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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Empire Annual for Girls, 1911, by
+Various, Edited by A. R. Buckland
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Empire Annual for Girls, 1911
+
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: A. R. Buckland
+
+Release Date: June 23, 2006  [eBook #18661]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMPIRE ANNUAL FOR GIRLS,
+1911***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Michael Ciesielski, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 18661-h.htm or 18661-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/6/6/18661/18661-h/18661-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/6/6/18661/18661-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+THE EMPIRE ANNUAL FOR GIRLS
+
+Edited by
+
+A. R. BUCKLAND, M.A.
+
+With Contributions by
+
+          LADY CATHERINE MILNES-GASKELL.
+          Mrs. CREIGHTON.
+          Mrs. MACQUOID.
+          Mrs. BALFOUR MURPHY.
+          Mrs. G. de HORNE VAIZEY.
+          A. R. BUCKLAND.
+          FRANK ELIAS.
+          AGNES GIBERNE.
+          SOMERVILLE GIBNEY.
+          EDITH C. KENYON.
+          M. E. LONGMORE.
+          MAUD MADDICK.
+          M. B. MANWELL.
+          FLORENCE MOON.
+          E. B. MOORE.
+          MADELINE OYLER.
+          HENRY WILLIAMS.
+          Etc., etc.
+
+With Coloured Plates and Sixteen Black and White Illustrations.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+London:
+4 Bouverie Street, E.C.
+1911.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
+384 pp. demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with Coloured Plates and
+16 Black and White Illustrations.
+
+THE EMPIRE ANNUAL FOR BOYS
+
+Edited by A. R. BUCKLAND, M.A.
+
+With contributions by MORLEY ADAMS, W. GRINTON
+BERRY, TOM BEVAN, A. W. COOPER, W. S. DOUGLAS,
+FRANK ELIAS, LAURENCE M. GIBSON, W. J.
+GORDON, F. M. HOLMES, RAMSAY GUTHRIE,
+C. H. IRWIN, J. B. KNOWLTON, W. C.
+METCALFE, A. J. H. MOULE, ERNEST
+PROTHEROE, GORDON STABLES,
+C. E. TYNDALE-BISCOE,
+ETC., ETC.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+[Illustration: RACE FOR LIFE. _See page 72_]
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                        PAGE
+THE CHRISTMAS CHILD
+                         MRS. G. DE HORNE VAIZEY           9
+  _The story of a happy thought, a strange discovery,
+  and a deed of love_
+
+
+ANNA                                                      22
+                                     MRS. MACQUOID
+  _A girl's adventure for a father's sake_
+
+
+TO GIRLS OF THE EMPIRE                                    39
+                                     MRS. CREIGHTON
+  _Words of encouragement and stimulus to the daughters
+  of the Nation_
+
+
+MY DANGEROUS MANIAC                                       45
+                                    LESLIE M. OYLER
+  _The singular adventure of two young people_
+
+
+JIM RATTRAY, TROOPER                                      52
+                                   KELSO B. JOHNSON
+  _A story of the North-West Mounted Police_
+
+
+MARY'S STEPPING ASIDE                                     59
+                                    EDITH C. KENYON
+  _Self-sacrifice bringing in the end its own reward_
+
+
+A RACE FOR LIFE                                           66
+                                   LUCIE E. JACKSON
+  _A frontier incident from the Far West_
+
+WHICH OF THE TWO?                                         74
+                                      AGNES GIBERNE
+  _A question of duty or inclination_
+
+
+A CHRISTMAS WITH AUSTRALIAN BLACKS                        89
+                                       J. S. PONDER
+  _An unusual but interesting Christmas party described_
+
+
+MY MISTRESS ELIZABETH                                     96
+                                       ANNIE ARMITT
+  _A story of self-sacrifice and treachery in Sedgemoor days_
+
+
+GIRL LIFE IN CANADA                                      114
+                                       JANEY CANUCK
+  _Girl life described by a resident in Alberta_
+
+
+SUCH A TREASURE!                                         120
+                                    EILEEN O'CONNOR
+  _How a New Zealand girl found her true calling_
+
+
+ROSETTE IN PERIL                                         131
+                                          M. LEFUSE
+  _A girl's strange adventures in the war of La Vend�e_
+
+
+GOLF FOR GIRLS                                           143
+                                      AN OLD STAGER
+  _Some practical advice to beginners and others_
+
+
+SUNNY MISS MARTIN                                        148
+                                  SOMERVILLE GIBNEY
+  _A story of misunderstanding, patience, and reconciliation_
+
+
+WHILST WAITING FOR THE MOTOR                             160
+                                     MADELINE OYLER
+  _A warning to juvenile offenders_
+
+
+THE GRUMPY MAN                                           165
+                                  MRS. HARTLEY PERKS
+  _A child's intervention and its results_
+
+DOGS WE HAVE KNOWN                                       183
+                       LADY CATHERINE MILNES-GASKELL
+  _True stories of dog life_
+
+
+DAFT BESS                                                197
+                                   KATE BURNLEY BENT
+  _A tale of the Cornish Coast_
+
+
+A SPRINGTIME DUET                                        203
+                                         MARY LESLIE
+  _A domestic chant for spring-cleaning days._
+
+
+OUT OF DEADLY PERIL                                      204
+                                   K. BALFOUR MURPHY
+  _A skating episode in Canada_
+
+
+THE PEARL-RIMMED LOCKET                                  211
+                                       M. B. MANWELL
+  _The detection of a strange offender_
+
+
+REMBRANDT'S SISTER                                       221
+                                      HENRY WILLIAMS
+  _A record of affection and self-sacrifice_
+
+
+HEPSIE'S XMAS VISIT                                      230
+                                        MAUD MADDICK
+  _A child's misdeed and its unexpected results_
+
+
+OUR AFRICAN DRIVER                                       238
+                                    J. H. SPETTIGUE
+  _A glimpse of South African life_
+
+
+CLAUDIA'S PLACE                                          247
+                                     A. R. BUCKLAND
+  _How Claudia changed her views_
+
+
+FAMOUS WOMEN PIONEERS                                    260
+                                        FRANK ELIAS
+  _Some of the women who have helped to open up new lands_
+
+POOR JANE'S BROTHER                                      266
+                                            M. LING
+  _The strange adventures of two little people_
+
+
+THE SUGAR-CREEK HIGHWAYMAN                               285
+                                     ADELA E. ORPEN
+  _An alarm and a discovery_
+
+
+DOROTHY'S DAY                                            294
+                                     M. E. LONGMORE
+  _A day beginning in sorrow and ending in joy_
+
+
+A STRANGE MOOSE HUNT                                     310
+                                  H. WILLIAM DAWSON
+  _A hunt that nearly ended in a tragedy_
+
+
+A GIRL'S PATIENCE                                        317
+                                       C. J. BLAKE
+  _A difficult part well played_
+
+
+THE TASMANIAN SISTERS                                    342
+                                       E. B. MOORE
+  _A story of loving service and changed lives_
+
+
+THE QUEEN OF CONNEMARA                                   362
+                                     FLORENCE MOON
+  _An Irish girl's awakening_
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+IN COLOUR
+
+ROSALIND'S RACE FOR LIFE                               _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                        _Facing Page_
+
+"THE SON OF MAN CAME NOT TO BE MINISTERED UNTO, BUT TO MINISTER"  44
+
+"YOUR SISTER IS COMING?" HE SAID                                  80
+
+MRS. MEADOWS' BROTHER ARRIVED                                    130
+
+AT THE SHOW                                                      184
+
+"DO FORGIVE ME, MOTHER DARLING!"                                 232
+
+HER HOSTESS HAD BEEN FEEDING THE PEACOCKS                        308
+
+
+IN BLACK AND WHITE
+
+"I SHAN'T PLAY IF YOU FELLOWS ARE SO ROUGH!"                      38
+
+GERALD LOOKS PUZZLED                                              46
+
+IT WAS UNDER A NOBLE TREE THAT MAX ASKED MARY TO MARRY HIM        64
+
+"GALLANTS LOUNGING IN THE PARK"                                   98
+
+LOOKING AT HIM, I SAW THAT HE WAS HAGGARD AND STRANGE            106
+
+GOLF FOR GIRLS--A BREEZY MORNING                                 144
+
+SELINA MARTYN GAVE HER ANSWER                                    158
+
+"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE COME ABOUT THE GAS BILL"                       170
+
+THE ROCK SHE CLUNG TO GAVE WAY                                   200
+
+SPRING CLEANING                                                  203
+
+HORRIBLE DREAMS OF MONSTERS AND DEMONS                           216
+
+HER VERY YOUTH PLEADED FOR HER                                   249
+
+BARBARA'S VISIT                                                  268
+
+"AS HE KISSED HIS FIRSTBORN UNDER THE MISTLETOE"                 340
+
+"NOW I AM GOING TO FAN YOU," SHE SAID                            348
+
+EILY STOOD A FORLORN, DESOLATE FIGURE ON EUSTON PLATFORM         366
+
+
+
+
+INDEX TO AUTHORS
+
+
+                                              PAGE
+          ARMITT, ANNIE                         96
+          BENT, KATE BURNLEY                   197
+          BLAKE, C. J.                         317
+          BUCKLAND, A. R.                      247
+          CANUCK, JANEY                        114
+          CREIGHTON, MRS.                       39
+          DAWSON, H. WILLIAM                   310
+          ELIAS, FRANK                         260
+          GIBERNE, AGNES                        74
+          GIBNEY, SOMERVILLE                   148
+          JACKSON, LUCIE E.                     66
+          JOHNSON, KELSO B.                     52
+          KENYON, EDITH C.                      59
+          LEFUSE, M.                           131
+          LESLIE, MARY                         203
+          LING, M.                             266
+          LONGMORE, M. E.                      294
+          MACQUOID, MRS.                        22
+          MADDICK, MAUD                        230
+          MANWELL, M. B.                       211
+          MILNES-GASKELL, LADY CATHERINE       183
+          MOON, FLORENCE                       362
+          MOORE, E. B.                         342
+          MURPHY, K. BALFOUR                   204
+          O'CONNOR, EILEEN                     120
+          OLD STAGER, AN                       143
+          OYLER, LESLIE M.                      45
+          OYLER, MADELINE                      160
+          ORPEN, ADELA E.                      285
+          PERKS, MRS. HARTLEY                  165
+          PONDER, J. S.                         89
+          SPETTIGUE, J. H.                     238
+          VAIZEY, MRS. G. DE HORNE               9
+          WILLIAMS, HENRY                      221
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A happy thought, a cross-country journey, a strange
+discovery, another happy thought, and many still happier thoughts
+hereafter!]
+
+The Christmas Child
+
+BY
+
+MRS. G. DE HORNE VAIZEY
+
+
+Jack said: "Nonsense! We are all grown up now. Let Christmas alone. Take
+no notice of it; treat it as if it were an ordinary day."
+
+Margaret said: "The servants have all begged for leave. Most of their
+mothers are dying, and if they are not, it's a sister who is going to be
+married. Really, it's a servants' ball which the Squire is giving in the
+village hall. Mean, I call it, to decoy one's maids just when one needs
+them most!"
+
+Tom said: "Beastly jolly dull show anyhow, to spend the day alone with
+your brothers and sisters. Better chuck it at once!"
+
+Peg said firmly and with emphasis: "_Heathen!_ Miserable, cold-blooded,
+materially-minded _frogs_! Where's your Christmas spirit, I should like
+to know? . . . If you have none for yourselves, think of other people.
+Think of _me_! I love my Christmas, and I'm not going to give it up for
+you or any one else. My very first Christmas at home as a growed-up
+lady, and you want to diddle me out of it. . . . Go to! Likewise, avaunt!
+Now by my halidom, good sirs, you know not with whom you have to deal.
+'Tis my royal pleasure the revels proceed!"
+
+Jack grimaced eloquently at Margaret, who grimaced back.
+
+"With all the pleasure in the world," he said suavely. "Show me a revel,
+and I'll revel with the best. I like revels. What I do _not_ like is to
+stodge at home eating an indigestible meal, and pretending that I'm full
+of glee, when in reality I'm bored to death. If you could suggest a
+change. . . ."
+
+Margaret sighed; Tom sniffed; Peg pursed up her lips and thought.
+Presently her eyes brightened. "Of course," she remarked tentatively,
+"there are the Revells!"
+
+Jack flushed and bit his lips.
+
+"Quite so! There are. Fifty miles away, and not a spare bed in the
+house. Lot of good they are to us, to be sure! Were you going to suggest
+that we dropped in for a quiet call? Silly nonsense, to talk of a thing
+like that."
+
+Jack was quite testy and huffed, for the suggestion touched a tender
+point. The Revells were the friends _par excellence_ of the family of
+which he was the youthful head. It seemed, indeed, as if the two
+households had been specially manufactured so that each should fit the
+wants of the other. Jack was very certain that, in any case, Myra Revell
+supplied all that _he_ lacked, and the very thought of spending
+Christmas Day in her company sent a pang of longing through his heart.
+Margaret cherished a romantic admiration for Mrs. Revell, who was still
+a girl at heart despite the presence of a grown-up family. Dennis was at
+Marlborough with Tom; while Pat or Patricia was Peg's bosom chum.
+
+What could you wish for more? A Christmas spent with the Revells would
+be a pure delight; but alas! fifty miles of some of the wildest and
+bleakest country in England stretched between the two homes, which,
+being on different lines of railway, were inaccessible by the ordinary
+route. Moreover, the Revells were, as they themselves cheerfully
+declared, "reduced paupers," and inhabited a picturesquely dilapidated
+old farmhouse, and the problem, "_Where do they all sleep?_" was as
+engrossing as a jig-saw puzzle to their inquisitive friends. Impossible
+that even a cat could be invited to swing itself within those crowded
+portals; equally impossible to attempt to separate such an affectionate
+family at Christmas-time of all seasons of the year.
+
+[Sidenote: Peg Startles Everybody]
+
+And yet here was Peg deliberately raking up the painful topic; and after
+the other members of the family had duly reproached and abused, ready to
+level another bolt at their heads.
+
+"S--uppose we went a burst--hired a car, drove over early in the
+morning, and marched into church before their very eyes!"
+
+Silence! Sparkling eyes; alert, thoughtful gaze. Could they? Should
+they? Would it be right? A motor for the day meant an expenditure of
+four or five pounds, and though the exchequer was in a fairly prosperous
+condition, five-pound notes could not be treated with indifference.
+Still, in each mind ran the echo of Peg's words. It was Christmas-time.
+Why should they not, just for once, give themselves a treat--themselves,
+and their dear friends into the bargain?
+
+The sparkle deepened; a flash passed from eye to eye, a flash of
+determination! Without a word of dissent or discussion the proposal was
+seconded, and carried through.
+
+"Fifty miles! We can't go above twenty-five an hour through those bad
+roads. We shall have to be off by nine, if we want to be in time for
+church. What _will_ they think when they see us marching in?"
+
+"No, no, we mustn't do that. Mrs. Revell would be in a fever the whole
+time, asking herself, '_Will the pudding go round?_' It really wouldn't
+be kind," pleaded Margaret earnestly, and her hearers chuckled
+reminiscently. Mrs. Revell was a darling, but she was also an
+appallingly bad housekeeper. Living two miles from the nearest shop, she
+yet appeared constitutionally incapable of "thinking ahead"; and it was
+a common experience to behold at the afternoon meal different members of
+the family partaking respectively of tea, coffee, and cocoa, there being
+insufficient of any one beverage to go round.
+
+Margaret's sympathies went out involuntarily towards her friend, but her
+listeners, it is to be feared, were concerned entirely for themselves.
+It might be the custom to abuse the orthodox Christmas dinner, but since
+it _was_ a national custom which one did not care to break, it behoved
+one to have as good a specimen as possible, and the prospect of short
+commons, and indifferent short commons at that, was not attractive.
+_Who_ could be sure that the turkey might not arrive at the table singed
+and charred, and the pudding in a condition of _soup_?
+
+Schoolboy Tom was quick with a suggestion.
+
+"I say--tell you what! Do the surprise-party business, and take a hamper
+with us. . . . Only decent thing to do, when you march in four strong to
+another person's feed. Dennis would love a hamper----"
+
+"Ha! Good! Fine idea! So we will! A real old-fashioned hamper, full of
+all the good things they are least likely to have. Game pie----"
+
+"Tongue--one of those big, shiny fellows, with scriggles of sugar down
+his back----"
+
+"Ice-pudding in a tin----"
+
+"Fancy creams----"
+
+"French fruits----"
+
+"Crackers! Handsome ones, with things inside that are worth having----"
+
+"Bon-bons----"
+
+Each one had a fresh suggestion to make, and Margaret scribbled them all
+down on the ivory tablet which hung from her waist, and promptly
+adjourned into the kitchen to give the necessary orders, and to rejoice
+the hearts of her handmaidens by granting a day's leave all round.
+
+On further consideration it was decided to attend early service at
+home, and to start off on the day's expedition at eleven o'clock,
+arriving at the Revell homestead about one, by which time it was
+calculated that the family would have returned from church, and would be
+hanging aimlessly about the garden, in the very mood of all others to
+welcome an unexpected excitement.
+
+Christmas Day broke clear and bright. Punctual to the minute the motor
+came puffing along, the youthful-looking chauffeur drawing up before the
+door with an air of conscious complaisance.
+
+Despite his very professional attire--perhaps, indeed, because of it--so
+very youthful did he appear, that Jack was visited by a qualm.
+
+"Er--er--are you going to drive us all the way?" he inquired anxiously.
+"When I engaged the car, I saw . . . I thought I had arranged with----"
+
+"My father, sir. It was my father you saw. Father said, being Christmas
+Day, he didn't care to turn out, so he sent me----"
+
+"You are a qualified driver--quite capable . . . ?"
+
+[Sidenote: A Good Start]
+
+The lad smiled, a smile of ineffable calm. His eyelids drooped, the
+corners of his mouth twitched and were still. He replied with two words
+only, an unadorned "Yes, sir," but there was a colossal, a Napoleonic
+confidence in his manner, which proved quite embarrassing to his
+hearers. Margaret pinched Jack's arm as a protest against further
+questionings; Jack murmured something extraordinarily like an apology;
+then they all tumbled into the car, tucked the rugs round their knees,
+turned up the collars of their coats, and sailed off on the smooth,
+swift voyage through the wintry air.
+
+For the first hour all went without a hitch. The youthful chauffeur
+drove smoothly and well; he had not much knowledge of the countryside;
+but as Jack knew every turn by heart, having frequently bicycled over
+the route, no delay was caused, and a merrier party of Christmas
+revellers could not have been found than the four occupants of the
+tonneau. They sang, they laughed, they told stories, and asked riddles;
+they ate sandwiches out of a tin, and drank hot coffee out of a thermos
+flask, and congratulated themselves, not once, but a dozen times, over
+their own ingenuity in hitting upon such a delightful variation to the
+usual Christmas programme.
+
+More than half the distance had been accomplished; the worst part of the
+road had been reached, and the car was beginning to bump and jerk in a
+somewhat uncomfortable fashion. Jack frowned, and looked at the slight
+figure of the chauffeur with a returning doubt.
+
+"He's all right on smooth roads, but this part needs a lot of driving.
+Another time----" He set his lips, and mentally rehearsed the complaints
+which he would make to "my father" when he paid the bill. Margaret gave
+a squeal, and looked doubtfully over the side.
+
+"I--I suppose it's all right! What would happen if he lost control, and
+we slipped back all the way downhill?"
+
+"It isn't a question of control. It's a question of the strength of the
+car. It's powerful enough for worse hills than this."
+
+"What's that funny noise? It didn't sound like that before. Kind of a
+clickety-clack. . . . Don't you hear it?"
+
+"No. Of course not. Don't be stupid and imagine things that don't
+exist. . . . What's the difference between----"
+
+Jack nobly tried to distract attention from the car, but before another
+mile had been traversed, the clickety-clack noise grew too loud to be
+ignored, the car drew up with a jerk, and the chauffeur leaped out.
+
+"I must just see----" he murmured vaguely; vaguely also he seemed to
+grope at the machinery of the car, while the four occupants of the
+tonneau hung over the doors watching his progress; then once more
+springing to his seat, he started the car, and they went bumping
+unevenly along the road. No more singing now; no more laughing and
+telling of tales; deep in each breast lay the presage of coming ill;
+four pairs of eyes scanned the dreary waste of surrounding country,
+while four brains busily counted up the number of miles which still lay
+between them and their destination. Twenty miles at least, and not a
+house in sight except one dreary stone edifice standing back from the
+road, behind a mass of evergreen trees.
+
+"This fellow is no good for rough roads. He would wear out a car in no
+time, to say nothing of the passengers. Can't think why we haven't had a
+puncture before now!" said Jack gloomily; whereupon Margaret called him
+sharply to order.
+
+"Don't say such things . . . don't think them. It's very wrong. You ought
+always to expect the best----"
+
+"Don't suppose my thinking is going to have any effect on rubber, do
+you?" Jack's tone was decidedly snappy. He was a lover, and it tortured
+him to think that an accident to the car might delay his meeting with
+his love. He had never spent a Christmas Day with Myra before; surely on
+this day of days she would be kinder, sweeter, relax a little of her
+proud restraint. Perhaps there would be mistletoe. . . . Suppose he found
+himself alone with Myra beneath the mistletoe bough? Suppose he kissed
+her? Suppose she turned upon him with her dignified little air and
+reproached him, saying he had no right? Suppose he said, "_Myra! will
+you give me the right?_" . . .
+
+No wonder that the car seemed slow to the lover's mind; no wonder that
+every fresh jerk and strain deepened the frown on his brow. The road was
+strewn with rough, sharp stones; but in another mile or two they would
+be on a smooth high-road once more. If only they could last out those
+few miles!
+
+[Sidenote: A Puncture]
+
+Bang! A sharp, pistol-like noise rent the air, a noise which told its
+own tale to the listening ears. A tyre had punctured, and a dreary
+half-hour's delay must be faced while the youthful chauffeur repaired
+the damage. The passengers leaped to the ground, and exhausted
+themselves in lamentations. They were already behind time, and this new
+delay would make them later than ever. . . . Suddenly they became aware
+that they were cold and tired--shivering with cold. Peg looked down at
+her boots, and supposed that there were feet inside, but as a matter of
+sensation it was really impossible to say. Margaret's nose was a cheery
+plaid--blue patches neatly veined with red. Jack looked from one to the
+other and forgot his own impatience in anxiety for their welfare.
+
+"Girls, you look frozen! Cut away up to that house, and ask them to let
+you sit by the fire for half an hour. Much better than hanging about
+here. I'll come for you when we are ready."
+
+The girls glanced doubtfully at the squat, white house, which in truth
+looked the reverse of hospitable; but the prospect of a fire being
+all-powerful at the moment, they turned obediently, and made their way
+up a worn gravel path, leading to the shabbiest of painted doors.
+
+Margaret knocked; Peg rapped; then Margaret knocked again; but nobody
+came, and not a sound broke the stillness within. The girls shivered and
+told each other disconsolately there was no one to come. Who _would_
+live in such a dreary house, in such a dreary, solitary waste, if it
+were possible to live anywhere else? Then they strolled round the corner
+of the house, and caught the cheerful glow of firelight, which settled
+the question, once for all.
+
+"Let's try the back door!" said Margaret, and the back door being found,
+they knocked again, but knocked in vain. Then Peg gave an impatient
+shake to the handle, and lo and behold! it turned in her hand, and swung
+slowly open on its hinges, showing a glimpse of a trim little kitchen,
+and beyond that a narrow passage leading to the front door.
+
+"Is any one there? Is any one there?" chanted Margaret loudly. She took
+a hesitating step into the passage--took two; repeated the cry in an
+even higher key; but still no answer came, still the same uncanny
+silence brooded over all.
+
+The girls stood still, and gazed in each other's eyes; in each face were
+reflected the same emotions--curiosity, interest, a tinge of fear.
+
+What could it mean? Could there be some one within these silent walls
+who was _ill_, helpless, in need of aid?
+
+"I think," declared Margaret firmly, "that it is our duty to look. . . ."
+In after days she always absolved herself from any charge of curiosity
+in this decision, and declared that her action was dictated solely by a
+feeling of duty; but her hearers had their doubts. Be that as it might,
+the decision fell in well with Peg's wishes, and the two girls walked
+slowly down the passage, repeating from time to time the cry "Is any one
+there?" the while their eyes busily scanned all they could see, and drew
+Sherlock Holmes conclusions therefrom.
+
+[Sidenote: What the Girls found]
+
+The house belonged to a couple who had a great many children and very
+little money. There was a cupboard beneath the stairs filled with shabby
+little boots; there was a hat-rack in the hall covered with shabby
+little caps. They were people of education and culture, for there were
+books in profusion, and the few pictures on the walls showed an artistic
+taste; they were tidy people also, for everything was in order, and a
+peep into the firelit room on the right showed the table set ready for
+the Christmas meal. It was like wandering through the enchanted empty
+palaces of the dear old fairy-tales, except that it was not a palace at
+all, and the banquet spread out on the darned white cloth was of so
+meagre a description, that at the sight the beholders flushed with a
+shamed surprise.
+
+That Christmas table--should they ever forget it? If they lived to be a
+hundred years old should they ever again behold a feast so poor in
+material goods, so rich in beauty of thought? For it would appear that
+though money was wanting, there was no lack of love and poetry in this
+lonely home. The table was decked with great bunches of holly, and
+before every seat a little card bore the name of a member of the family,
+printed on a card, which had been further embellished by a flower or
+spray, painted by an artist whose taste was in advance of his
+skill--"Father," "Mother," "Amy," "Fred," "Norton," "Mary," "Teddums,"
+"May." Eight names in all, but nine chairs, and the ninth no ordinary,
+cane-seated chair like the rest, but a beautiful, high-backed,
+carved-oak erection, ecclesiastical in design, which looked strangely
+out of place in the bare room.
+
+There was no card before this ninth chair, but on the uncushioned seat
+lay a square piece of cardboard, bordered with a painted wreath of
+holly, inscribed on which were four short words.
+
+Margaret and Peg read them with a sudden shortening of the breath and
+smarting of the eyes:
+
+"_For the Christ Child!_"
+
+"Ah-h!" Margaret's hand stretched out, seized Peg's, and held it fast.
+In the rush and bustle of the morning it had been hard to realise the
+meaning of the day: now, for the first time, the spirit of Christmas
+flooded her heart, filled it with love, with a longing to help and to
+serve.
+
+"Peg! Peg!" she cried breathlessly. "How beautiful of them! They have so
+little themselves, but they have remembered the old custom, the sweet
+old custom, and made _Him_ welcome. . . ." Her eyes roamed to the window,
+and lit with sudden inspiration. She lifted her hand and pointed to a
+distant steeple rising above the trees. "They have all gone off to
+church--father and mother, and Amy and Fred--all the family together!
+That's why the house is empty. And dinner is waiting for their return!"
+
+She turned again to the table, her housekeeper's eye taking in at a
+flash the paucity of its furnishings. "Peg! can this be _all_? _All_
+that they have to eat . . . ? Let us look in the kitchen. . . . I must
+make quite sure. . . ."
+
+There was no feeling of embarrassment, no consciousness of impertinent
+curiosity, in the girls' minds as they investigated the contents of
+kitchen and larder. At that moment the house seemed their own, its
+people their people; they were just two more members of a big family,
+whose duty it was to look after the interests of their brothers and
+sisters while they were away; and when evidences of poverty and
+emptiness met them on every side, the two pairs of eyes met with a
+mutual impulse, so strong that it needed not to be put into words.
+
+In another moment they had left the house behind and were running
+swiftly across the meadow towards the car. The chauffeur was busily
+engaged on the tyre, Jack and Tom helping, or hindering as the case
+might be. The hamper lay on the ground where it had been placed for
+greater security during the repairs. The girls nipped it up by its
+handles, and ran off again, regardless of protests and inquiries.
+
+It was very heavy, delightfully heavy: the bearers rejoiced in its
+weight, wished it had been three times as heavy; the aching of their
+arms was a positive joy to them as they bore their burden into the
+little dining-room, and laid it down upon the floor.
+
+[Sidenote: What shall we do with it?]
+
+"Now! What shall we do now? Shall we lay out the things and make a
+display on the table, or shall we put the pie in the oven beside that
+tiny ghost of a joint, and the pudding in a pan beside the potatoes?
+Which do you think would be best?"
+
+But Margaret shook her head.
+
+"Neither! Oh! don't you see, both ways would look too human, too
+material. They would show too plainly that strangers had been in, and
+had interfered. I want it to look like a Christmas miracle . . . as if it
+had come straight. . . . We'll lay the basket just as it is, on the Christ
+Child's chair. . . ."
+
+Peg nodded. She was an understanding Peg, and she rose at once to the
+poetry of the idea. Gently, reverently, the girls lifted the basket
+which was to have furnished their own repast, laid it on the carved-oak
+chair, and laid on its lid the painted card; then for a moment they
+stood side by side, gazing round the room, seeing in imagination the
+scene which would follow the return of the family from church . . . the
+incredulity, the amaze, the blind mystification, the joy. . . . Peg beamed
+in anticipation of the delight of the youngsters; Margaret had the
+strangest, eeriest feeling of looking straight into a sweet, worn face;
+of feeling the clasp of work-worn hands. It was imagination, she told
+herself, simple imagination, yet the face was alive. . . . Its features
+seemed more distinct than many which she knew in the flesh. She shivered
+slightly, and drew her sister from the room.
+
+"Now, Peg, to cover up our tracks; to leave everything as we found it!
+This door was shut. . . . Have we moved anything from its place, left
+any footmarks on the floor? Be careful, dear, be careful! . . . Push
+that chair into place. . . ."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The tyre was repaired. The chauffeur was straightening his back after
+the long stoop. Jack and Tom were indignantly demanding what had been
+done with the hamper. Being hungry and unromantic, it took some little
+time to convince them that there had been no choice in the matter, and
+that the large family had a right to their luxuries which was not to be
+gainsaid. They had not seen the pitiful emptiness of the Christmas
+table; they had not seen the chair set ready for the Christ Child. The
+girls realised as much and dealt gently with them, and in the outcome no
+one felt the poorer; for the welcome bestowed upon the surprise party
+was untinged by any shadow of embarrassment, and they sat around a
+festal board, happy to feel that their presence was hailed as the
+culminating joy of the day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was evening when the car again approached the lonely house, and
+Margaret, speaking down the connecting tube, directed the chauffeur to
+drive at his slowest speed for the next quarter of a mile.
+
+Jack was lying back in his corner, absorbed in happy dreams. Never so
+long as he lived could he forget this Christmas Day, which had seen the
+fulfilment of his hopes in Myra's sweetness, Myra's troth. Tom was fast
+asleep, dreaming of "dorm." suppers, and other escapades of the last
+term. The two sisters were as much alone as if the only occupants of the
+car.
+
+They craned forward, eager for the first glimpse of the house, and
+caught sight of a beam of light athwart the darkness of the night.
+
+The house was all black save for one window, but that was as a
+lighthouse in a waste, for the curtains were undrawn, and fire and lamp
+sent out a rosy glow which seemed the embodiment of cheer.
+
+Against the white background of the wall a group of figures could be
+seen standing together beneath the lamp; the strains of a harmonium
+floated sweetly on the night air, a chorus of glad young voices singing
+the well-known words:
+
+          "The King of Love my Shepherd is!"
+
+With a common impulse the two girls waved their hands from the window as
+the car plunged forward.
+
+"Good-night, little sisters!"
+
+"Good-night, little brothers!"
+
+[Sidenote: How He comes]
+
+"Sleep well, little people. The Christ Child is with you. You asked Him,
+and He came----"
+
+"And the wonderful thing," said Peg, "the most wonderful thing is, that
+He came _through us_!"
+
+"But that," answered Margaret thoughtfully, "is just how He always
+_does_ come."
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: The story of a girl's adventure for a father's sake that may
+help girls who are at all like Anna.]
+
+Anna
+
+BY
+
+KATHARINE S. MACQUOID
+
+
+Three thousand feet up the side of a Swiss mountain a lateral valley
+strikes off in the direction of the heights that border the course of
+the Rhine on its way from Coire to Sargans. The closely-cropped,
+velvet-smooth turf, the abundant woods, sometimes of pine-trees and
+sometimes of beech and chestnut, give a smiling, park-like aspect to the
+broad green track, and suggest ideas of peace and plenty.
+
+As the path gradually ascends on its way to Fadara the wealth of wild
+flowers increases, and adds to the beauty of the scene.
+
+A few brown cow-stables are dotted about the flower-sprinkled meadows; a
+brook runs diagonally across the path, and some freshly-laid planks show
+that inhabitants are not far off; but there is not a living creature in
+sight. The grasshoppers keep up their perpetual chirrup, and if one
+looks among the flowers one can see the gleam of their scarlet wings as
+they jump; for the rest, the flowers and the birds have it all to
+themselves, and they sing their hymns and offer their incense in
+undisturbed solitude.
+
+When one has crossed the brook and climbed an upward slope into the
+meadow beyond it, one enters a thick fir-wood full of fragrant shadow;
+at the end is a bank, green and high, crowned by a hedge, and all at
+once the quiet of the place has fled.
+
+Such a variety of sounds come down the green bank! A cock is crowing
+loudly, and there is the bleat of a young calf; pigs are squeaking one
+against another, and in the midst of the din a dog begins to bark. At
+the farther corner, where the hedge retreats from its encroachments on
+the meadow, a grey house comes into view, with a signboard across its
+upper part announcing that here the tired traveller may get dinner and a
+bed.
+
+Before the cock has done crowing--and really he goes on so long that it
+is a wonder he is not hoarse--another voice mingles with the rest.
+
+It is a woman's voice, and, although neither hoarse nor shrill, it is no
+more musical than the crow of the other biped, who struts about on his
+widely-spread toes in the yard, to which Christina Fasch has come to
+feed the pigs. There are five of them, pink-nosed and yellow-coated, and
+they keep up a grunting and snarling chorus within their wooden
+enclosure, each struggling to oust a neighbour from his place near the
+trough while they all greedily await their food.
+
+[Sidenote: "Come, Anna!"]
+
+"Come, Anna, come," says the hard voice; "what a slow coach you are! I
+would do a thing three times over while you are thinking about it!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The farmyard was bordered by the tall hedge, and lay between it and the
+inn. The cow-house, on one side, was separated from the pigstyes by a
+big stack of yellow logs, and the farther corner of the inn was flanked
+by another stack of split wood, fronted by a pile of brushwood; above
+was a wooden balcony that ran also along the house-front, and was
+sheltered by the far-projecting eaves of the shingled roof.
+
+Only the upper part of the inn was built of logs, the rest was brick and
+plaster. The house looked neatly kept, the yard was less full of the
+stray wood and litter that is so usual in a Swiss farmyard, but there
+was a dull, severe air about the place. There was not a flower or a
+plant, either in the balcony or on the broad wooden shelves below the
+windows--not so much as a carnation or a marigold in the vegetable plot
+behind the house.
+
+A shed stood in the corner of this plot, and at the sound of Christina's
+call a girl came out of the shed; she was young and tall and
+strong-looking, but she did not beautify the scene.
+
+To begin with, she stooped; her rough, tangled hair covered her forehead
+and partly hid her eyes; her skin was red and tanned with exposure, and
+her rather wide lips drooped at the corners with an expression of misery
+that was almost grotesque. She carried a pail in each hand.
+
+"Do be quick!" Christina spoke impatiently as she saw her niece appear
+beyond the wood-stack.
+
+Anna started at the harsh voice as if a lash had fallen on her back; the
+pig's food splashed over her gown and filled her heavy leather shoes.
+
+"I had better have done it myself," cried her aunt. "See, unhappy child,
+you have wasted food and time also! Now you must go and clean your shoes
+and stockings; your gown and apron are only fit for the wash-tub! Ah!"
+
+She gave a deep sigh as she took up first one pail and then the other
+and emptied the wash into the pig-trough without spilling a drop by the
+way. Anna stood watching her admiringly.
+
+"Well!" Christina turned round on her. "I ask myself, what is the use of
+you, child? You are fifteen, and so far it seems to me that you are here
+only to make work for others! When do you mean to do things as other
+people do them? I ask myself, what would become of you if your father
+were a poor man, and you had to earn your living?"
+
+Anna had stooped yet more forward; she seemed to crouch as if she
+wanted to get out of sight. Christina suddenly stopped and looked at her
+for an answer. Anna fingered her splashed apron; she tried to speak, but
+a lump rose in her throat, and she could not see for the hot tears that
+would, against her will, rush to her eyes.
+
+"I shall never do anything well," she said at last, and the misery in
+her voice touched her aunt. "I used not to believe you, aunt, but now I
+see that you are right. I can never be needful to any one." Then she
+went on bitterly: "It would have been better if father had taken me up
+to the lake on Scesaplana when I was a baby and drowned me there as he
+drowned the puppies in the wash-tub."
+
+Christina looked shocked; there was a frown on her heavy face, which was
+usually as expressionless as if it had been carved in wood.
+
+[Sidenote: "Go, you unlucky child!"]
+
+"Fie!" she said. "Think of Gretchen's mother, old Barbara; she does not
+complain of the go�tre; though she has to bear it under her chin, she
+tries to keep it out of sight. I wish you would do the same with your
+clumsiness. There, go and change your clothes, go, you unlucky child,
+go!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+You are perhaps wondering how it comes to pass that an inn can exist
+placed alone in the midst of green pasture-land, and only approached by
+a simple foot track, which more than once leads the wayfarer across mere
+plank bridges, and which passes, only at long intervals, small groups of
+cottages that call themselves villages. You naturally wonder how the
+guests at this lonely inn fare with regard to provisions. It is true
+that milk is sent down every day from the cows on the green Alps higher
+up the mountain, and that the farm boasts of plenty of ducks and fowls,
+of eggs and honey. There are a few sheep and goats, too; we have seen
+that there are pigs. Fr�ulein Christina Fasch makes good bread, and she
+is famous for her delicate puddings and sauces; the puzzle is, whence
+come the groceries, and the extras, and the wines that are consumed in
+the inn?
+
+A mile or so beyond, on a lower spur of the mountain ridge that
+overlooks the Rhine, a gap comes in the hedge that screens an almost
+precipitous descent into the broad, flat valley. The descent looks more
+perilous than it is, for constant use has worn the slender track into a
+series of rough steps, which lead to the vine-clad knoll on which is
+situated Malans, and at Malans George Fasch, the landlord of our inn,
+can purchase all he needs, for it is near a station on the railway line
+between Zurich and Coire and close to the busy town of Mayenfeld in the
+valley below.
+
+Just now there are no visitors at the inn, so the landlord only makes
+his toilsome journey once a fortnight; but when there is a family in the
+house he visits the valley more frequently, for he cannot bring very
+large stores with him, although he does not spare himself fatigue, and
+he mounts the natural ladder with surprising rapidity, considering the
+load he carries strapped to his shoulders.
+
+The great joy of Anna was to meet her father at the top of the pass, and
+persuade him to lighten his burden by giving her some of it to carry;
+and to-day, when she had washed her face and hands, and had changed her
+clothes, she wished that he had gone to Malans; his coming back would
+have helped her to forget her disaster. Her aunt's words clung to the
+girl like burs; and now, as they rang in her ears again, she went into
+the wood to have her cry out, unobserved.
+
+She stood leaning against a tree; and, as the tears rolled over her
+face, she turned and hid it against the rough red bark of the pine. She
+was crying for the loss of the dear, gentle mother who had always helped
+her. Her mother had so screened her awkwardness from public notice that
+Anna had scarcely been aware of it. Her Aunt Christina had said, when
+she was summoned four years ago to manage her brother's household,
+"Your wife has ruined Anna, brother. I shall have hard work to improve
+her."
+
+Anna was not crying now about her aunt's constant fault-finding; there
+was something in her grief more bitter even than the tears she shed for
+her mother; it seemed to the girl that day by day she was becoming more
+and more clumsy and stupid; she broke the crockery, and even the
+furniture; she spoiled her frocks; and, worst of all, she had more than
+once met her father's kind blue eyes fixed on her with a look of sadness
+that went to her heart. Did he, too, think that she would never be
+useful to herself or to any one?
+
+At this thought her tears came more freely, and she pressed her hot face
+against the tree.
+
+"I wonder why I was made!" she sobbed.
+
+There came a sharp crackling sound, as the twigs and pine-needles
+snapped under a heavy tread.
+
+Anna caught up her white apron and vigorously rubbed her eyes; then she
+hurried out to the path from her shelter among the trees.
+
+In another minute her arms were round her father, and she was kissing
+him on both cheeks.
+
+[Sidenote: A Startling Face]
+
+George Fasch kissed her and patted her shoulder; then a suppressed sob
+caught his ear. He held Anna away from him, and looked at her face.
+
+It was red and green in streaks, and her eyes were red and inflamed. The
+father was startled by her appearance.
+
+"What is the matter, dear child?" he said. "You are ill."
+
+Then his eyes fell on her apron. Its crumpled state, and the red and
+green smears on it, showed the use to which it had been put, and he
+began to guess what had happened.
+
+Anna hung her head.
+
+"I was crying and I leaned against a tree. Oh, dear, it was a clean
+apron! Aunt will be vexed."
+
+Her father sighed, but he pitied her confusion.
+
+"Why did you cry, my child?" he said, half-tenderly, half in rebuke.
+"Aunt Christina means well, though she speaks abruptly."
+
+He only provoked fresh tears, but Anna tried so hard to keep them back
+that she was soon calm again.
+
+"I am not vexed with Aunt Christina for scolding me," she said; "I
+deserved it; I am sorry for myself."
+
+"Well, well," he said cheerfully, "we cannot expect old heads on young
+shoulders." His honest, sunburned face was slightly troubled as he
+looked at her. "You will have to brush up a bit, you know, when
+Christina goes to Zurich. You are going to be left in charge of the
+house for a week or so."
+
+Anna pressed her hands nervously together. She felt that the house would
+suffer greatly under her guidance; but then, she should have her father
+all to herself in her aunt's absence, and she should be freed from those
+scathing rebukes which made her feel all the more clumsy and helpless
+when they were uttered in her father's presence.
+
+George Fasch, however, had of late become very much aware of his
+daughter's awkwardness, and secretly he was troubled by the prospect of
+her aunt's absence. He was a kind man and an affectionate father, but he
+objected to Gretchen's unaided cookery, and he had therefore resolved to
+transact some long-deferred business in Zurich during his sister's stay
+there. This would lessen the number of his badly-cooked dinners at home.
+
+"I shall start with Christina," he said--"some one must go with her to
+Pardisla; and next day I shall come home by Malans, so you will have to
+meet me on Wednesday evening at the old place, eh, Anna?"
+
+She nodded and smiled, but she felt a little disappointed. She
+reflected, however, that she should have her father alone for some days
+after his return.
+
+Christina was surprised to see how cheerful the girl looked when she
+came indoors.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Rain fell incessantly for several days, and even when it ceased masses
+of white vapour rose up from the neighbouring valleys and blotted out
+everything. The vapour had lifted, however, when Fasch and his sister
+started on their expedition, and Anna, tired of her week's seclusion,
+set out on a ramble. A strange new feeling came over the girl as soon as
+she lost sight of her aunt's straight figure. She was free, there would
+be no one to scold her or to make her feel awkward; she vaulted with
+delight, and with an ease that surprised her, over the fence that parted
+the two meadows; she looked down at her skirt, and she saw with relief
+that she had not much frayed it, yet she knew there were thorns, for
+there had been an abundance of wild roses in the hedge.
+
+A lark was singing blithely overhead, and the grasshoppers filled the
+air with joyful chirpings. Anna's face beamed with content.
+
+"If life could be always like to-day!" she thought, "oh, how nice it
+would be!"
+
+[Sidenote: In the Marsh]
+
+Presently she reached the meadow with the brook running across it, and
+she gave a cry of delight; down in the marsh into which the brook ran
+across the sloping field she saw a mass of bright dark-blue. These were
+gentian-flowers, opening blue and green blossoms to the sunshine, and in
+front of them the meadow itself was white with a sprinkling of grass of
+Parnassus.
+
+Anna had a passionate love of flowers, and, utterly heedless of all but
+the joy of seeing them, she ran down the slope, and only stopped when
+she found herself ankle-deep in the marsh below, in which the gentian
+grew.
+
+This sobered her excitement. She pulled out one foot, and was shocked to
+find that she had left her shoe behind in the black slime; she was
+conscious, too, that her other foot was sinking deeper and deeper in the
+treacherous marsh. There was nothing to hold by, there was not even an
+osier near at hand; behind the gentian rose a thicket of rosy-blossomed
+willow-herb, and here and there was a creamy tassel of meadowsweet, but
+even these were some feet beyond her grasp.
+
+Anna looked round her in despair. From the next field came a clicking
+sound, and as she listened she guessed that old Andreas was busy mowing.
+
+He was old, but he was not deaf, and she could easily make him hear a
+cry for help; but she was afraid of Andreas. He kept the hotel garden in
+order, and if he found footmarks on the vegetable plots, or if anything
+went wrong with the plants, he always laid the blame on Anna; he was as
+neat as he was captious, and the girl shrank from letting him see the
+plight she was in.
+
+She stooped down and felt for her shoe, and as she recovered it she
+nearly fell full length into the bog; the struggle to keep her balance
+was fatal; her other foot sank several inches; it seemed to her that she
+must soon be sucked down by the horrible black water that spurted up
+from the marsh with her struggles.
+
+Without stopping to think, she cried out as loud as she could, "Help me,
+Andreas! Help! I am drowning!"
+
+At the cry the top of a straw hat appeared in sight, and its owner came
+up-hill--a small man, with twisted legs, in pale clay-coloured trousers,
+a black waistcoat, and brown linen shirtsleeves. His wrinkled face
+looked hot, and his hat was pushed to the back of his head. He took it
+off and wiped his face with his handkerchief while he looked round him.
+
+"Pouf!" He gave a grunt of displeasure. "So you are once more in
+mischief, are you? Ah, ah, ah! What, then, will the aunt, that ever to
+be respected Fr�ulein, say, when she hears of this?"
+
+He called this out as he came leisurely across the strip of meadow that
+separated him from Anna.
+
+She was in an agony of fear lest she should sink still farther in before
+he reached her; but she knew Andreas far too well to urge him even by a
+word to greater haste. So she stood shivering and pale with fear while
+she clasped her bog-stained shoe close to her.
+
+Andreas had brought a stake with him, and he held this out to Anna, but
+when she tried to draw out her sinking foot she shook her head, it
+seemed to be stuck too fast in the bog.
+
+Andreas gave a growl of discontent, and then went slowly up to the plank
+bridge. With some effort he raised the smaller of the two planks and
+carried it to where Anna stood fixed like a statue among the flowering
+water-plants. Then he pushed the plank out till it rested on a hillock
+of rushes, while the other end remained on the meadow.
+
+"Ah!"--he drew a long breath--"see the trouble you give by your
+carelessness."
+
+He spoke vindictively, as if he would have liked to give her a good
+shaking; but Anna smiled at him, she was so thankful at the prospect of
+release.
+
+[Sidenote: Rescued]
+
+The mischievous little man kept her waiting some minutes. He pretended
+to test the safety of the plank by walking up and down it and trying it
+with his foot. At last, when the girl's heart had become sick with
+suspense, he suddenly stretched out both hands and pulled her on to the
+plank, then he pushed her along before him till she was on dry ground
+once more.
+
+"Oh, thank you, Andreas," she began, but he cut her thanks very short.
+
+"Go home at once and dry yourself," he said. "You are the plague of my
+life, and if I had been a wise man I should have left you in the marsh.
+Could not your senses tell you that all that rain meant danger in boggy
+places? There'll be mischief somewhere besides this; a landslip or two,
+more than likely. There, run home, child, or you'll get cold."
+
+He turned angrily away and went back to his work.
+
+Anna hurried to the narrowest part of the brook and jumped across it.
+She could not make herself in a worse plight than she was already; her
+skirts were dripping with the black and filthy water of the marsh.
+
+Heavy rain fell again during the night, and continued throughout the
+morning, but in the afternoon there was a glimpse of sunshine overhead.
+This soon drew the vapour up again from the valley, and white
+steam-clouds sailed slowly across the landscape.
+
+Gretchen had been very kind and compassionate about Anna's disaster; she
+made the girl go to bed for an hour or two, and gave her some hot broth,
+and Anna would have forgotten her trouble but for the certainty she felt
+that old Andreas would make as bad a story of it as he could to her Aunt
+Christina. But this morning the girl was looking forward to her father's
+home-coming, and she was in good spirits; she had tried to make herself
+extra neat, and to imitate as closely as she could her Aunt Christina's
+way of tidying the rooms; but one improvement suggested itself to Anna
+which would certainly not have occurred to her tidy aunt; if she had
+thought of it, she would have scouted the idea as useless, and a
+frivolous waste of time.
+
+Directly after the midday meal Anna went out to gather a wild-flower
+nosegay, to place in the sitting-room in honour of her father's return.
+It seemed to her the only means she had of showing him how glad she was
+to see him again.
+
+While she was busy gathering Andreas crossed the meadow; he did not see
+Anna stooping over the flowers, and she kept herself hidden; but the
+sight of him brought back a haunting fear. What was it? What had Andreas
+said that she had forgotten? He had said something which had startled
+her at the time, and which now came pressing urgently on her for
+remembrance, although she could not distinctly recall it.
+
+What was it? Anna stood asking herself; the flowers fell out of her hand
+on to the grass among their unplucked companions; she stood for some
+minutes absorbed in thought.
+
+Andreas had passed out of sight, and she could not venture to follow
+him, for she did not know what she wanted him to tell her.
+
+A raindrop fell on her hand, and she looked up. Yes, the rain had begun
+again. Anna gave a sudden start; she left the flowers and set off
+running towards the point at which she was accustomed to meet her
+father.
+
+With the raindrop the clue she had been seeking had come to her. Andreas
+had said there might very likely be landslips, and who could say that
+there might not have been one on the hillside above Malans? Anna had
+often heard her father say that, though he could climb the steep ascent
+with his burden, he should be sorry to have to go down with it. If the
+track had been partly carried away, he might begin to climb without any
+warning of the danger that lay before him. . . .
+
+Anna trembled and shivered as she thought of the danger. It would be
+growing dusk before her father began to climb, and who could say what
+might happen?
+
+She hurried on to the place at which she always met her father. When she
+had crossed the brook that parted the field with the gap from the field
+preceding it, Anna stood still in dismay. The hedge was gone, and so was
+a good strip of the field it had bordered.
+
+[Sidenote: A Landslip]
+
+There had already been a landslip.
+
+Anna had learned wisdom by her mischance yesterday, and she went on
+slowly and cautiously till she drew near the edge; then she knelt down
+on the grass, and, creeping along on her hands and knees, she peered
+over the broken, slippery edge. The landslip seemed to have reached
+midway down the cliff, but the rain had washed the earth and rubbish to
+one side.
+
+So far as Anna could make out, the way up, half-way, was as firm as
+ever; then there came a heap of debris from the fall of earth, and then
+the bare rock rose to the top, upright and dreadful.
+
+Anna's head turned dizzy as she looked down the precipice, and she
+forced herself to crawl backward from the crumbling edge only just in
+time, for it seemed to her that some mysterious power was beckoning her
+from below.
+
+When she got on her feet she stood and wondered what was to be done. How
+was she to warn her father of this danger?
+
+She looked at the sun; it was still high up in the sky, so she had some
+hours before her. There was no other way to Malans but this one, unless
+by going back half-way to Seewis, to where a path led down to Pardisla,
+and thence into the Landquart valley, where the high-road went on to
+Malans, past the corner where the Landquart falls into the Rhine. Anna
+had learned all this as a child from the big map which hung in the
+dining-room at the inn. But on the map it looked a long, long way to the
+Rhine valley, and she had heard her father tell her Aunt Christina that
+she must take the diligence at Pardisla; it would be too far, he said,
+to walk to Landquart, and Anna knew that Malans was farther still. She
+stood wondering what could be done.
+
+In these last four years she had become by degrees penetrated with a
+sense of her own utter uselessness, and she had gradually sunk into a
+melancholy condition. She did only what she was told to do, and she
+always expected to be told how to do it.
+
+Her first thought now was, how could she get help or advice? she knew
+only two people who could help her--Gretchen and Andreas. The last, she
+reflected, must be already at some distance. When she saw him, he was
+carrying a basket, and he had, no doubt, gone to Seewis, for it was
+market-day in that busy village. As to Gretchen, Anna felt puzzled.
+Gretchen never went from home; what could she know about time and the
+distance from the Rhine valley?
+
+Besides, while the girl stood thinking her sense of responsibility
+unfolded, the sense that comes to every rational creature in a moment
+that threatens danger to others; and she saw that by going back even to
+consult with Gretchen she must lose many precious minutes. There was no
+near road to the valley, but it would save a little to keep well behind
+the inn on her downward way to Pardisla.
+
+As Anna went along the day cleared again. The phantom-like mists drifted
+aside and showed on the opposite mountain's side brilliant green Alps in
+the fir-wood that reached almost to the top. The lark overhead sang
+louder, and the grasshopper's metallic chirp was incessant under foot.
+
+[Sidenote: Father must be Warned]
+
+Anna's heart became lighter as she hurried on; surely, she thought, she
+must reach Malans before her father had begun to climb the mountain. She
+knew that he would have left his knapsack at Mayenfeld, and that he must
+call there for it on his way home. Unless the landslip was quite recent
+it seemed to her possible that some one might be aware of what had
+happened, and might give her father warning; but Anna had seen that for
+a good way above Malans the upward path looked all right, and it was so
+perpendicular that she fancied the destruction of its upper portion
+might not have been at once discovered, especially if it had occurred at
+night. No, she was obliged to see that it was extremely doubtful whether
+her father would receive any warning unless she reached the foot of the
+descent before he did.
+
+So she went at her utmost speed down the steep stony track to Pardisla.
+New powers seemed to have come to her with the intensity of her
+suspense.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+George Fasch had every reason to be content with the way in which he had
+managed his business at Zurich; and yet, as he travelled back to
+Mayenfeld, he was in a desponding mood. All the way to Zurich his sister
+had talked about Anna. She said she had tried her utmost with the girl,
+and that she grew worse and worse.
+
+"She is reckless and thoroughly unreliable," she said, "and she gets
+more stupid every day. If you were wise you would put her into a
+reformatory."
+
+George Fasch shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"She is affectionate," he said bluntly, "and she is very unselfish. I
+should be sorry to send her from home."
+
+Christina held up her hands.
+
+"I call a girl selfish who gives so much trouble. Gretchen has to wash
+out three skirts a week for Anna. She is always spoiling her clothes. I,
+on the contrary, call her very selfish, brother."
+
+George Fasch shrugged his shoulders again; he remembered the red and
+green apron, and he supposed that Christina must be right; and now, as
+he travelled back alone, he asked himself what he must do. Certainly he
+saw no reason why he should place Anna in a reformatory--that would be,
+he thought, a sure way of making her unhappy, and perhaps even
+desperate; but Christina's words had shown him her unwillingness to be
+plagued with his daughter's ways, and he shrank from the idea of losing
+his useful housekeeper. He had been accustomed to depend on his sister
+for the management of the inn, and he felt that no paid housekeeper
+would be able to fill Christina's place. Besides, it would cost more
+money to pay a stranger.
+
+Yes, he must send Anna away, but he shrank from the idea. There was a
+timid, pathetic look in the girl's dark eyes that warned him against
+parting her from those she loved. After all, was she not very like her
+mother? and his sweet lost wife had often told George Fasch how dreamy
+and heedless and stupid she had been in childhood. He was sure that Anna
+would mend in time, if only he could hit on some middle course at
+present.
+
+The weather had been fine at Zurich; and he was surprised, when he
+quitted the train, to see the long wreaths of white vapour that floated
+along the valley and up the sides of the hill. It was clearer when he
+had crossed the river; but before he reached Malans evening was drawing
+in, and everything grew misty.
+
+He had made his purchases at Mayenfeld so as to avoid another stoppage;
+and, with his heavy load strapped on his back, he took a by-path that
+skirted Malans, and led him straight to the bottom of the descent
+without going through the village. There was a group of trees just at
+the foot of the path, which increased the gathering gloom.
+
+"My poor child will be tired of waiting," he thought, and he began to
+climb the steep ascent more rapidly than usual.
+
+All at once a faint cry reached him; he stopped and listened, but it did
+not come again.
+
+The way was very slippery, he thought; his feet seemed to be clogged
+with soft earth, and he stopped at last to breathe. Then he heard
+another cry, and the sound of footsteps behind him.
+
+Some one was following him up the dangerous ascent. And as his ears took
+in the sound he heard Anna's voice some way below.
+
+[Sidenote: "You cannot climb To-night!"]
+
+"Father! father! stop! stop!" she cried; "there is a landslip above; you
+cannot climb to-night."
+
+George Fasch stopped. He shut his eyes and opened them again. It seemed
+to him that he was dreaming. How came Anna to be at the foot of the pass
+if it was not possible to climb to the top of it?
+
+"What is it, Anna? Do you mean that I must come down again?" he said
+wonderingly.
+
+"Yes, yes; the path above is destroyed."
+
+And once more he wondered if all this could be real.
+
+"Father, can you come down with the pack, or will you unfasten it and
+leave it behind?"
+
+George Fasch thought a moment.
+
+"You must go down first," he said, "and keep on one side; the distance
+is short, and I think I can do it; but I may slip by the way."
+
+There were minutes of breathless suspense while Anna stood in the
+gathering darkness, and then the heavy footsteps ceased to descend, and
+she found herself suddenly hugged close in her father's arms.
+
+"My good girl," he said, "my good Anna, how did you come here?"
+
+Anna could not speak. She trembled like a leaf, and then she began to
+sob. The poor girl was completely exhausted by the terrible anxiety she
+had gone through, and by fatigue.
+
+"I thought I was too late," she sobbed; "it looked so dark. I feared you
+could not see; I cried out, but you did not answer. Oh, father!"--she
+caught at his arms--"if I had been really too late!"
+
+Her head sank on his shoulder.
+
+George Fasch patted her cheek. He was deeply moved, but he did not
+speak; he would hear by-and-by how it had all happened. Presently he
+said cheerfully:
+
+"Well, my girl, we must let Gretchen wonder what has happened to us
+to-night. You and I will get beds at Malans. My clever Anna has done
+enough for one day."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three years have passed since Anna's memorable journey. Her Aunt
+Christina has married, and she has gone to live in Zurich; Anna is now
+alone with her father and Gretchen. She has developed in all ways; that
+hurried journey to the foot of the mountain had been a mental tonic to
+the girl. She has learned to be self-reliant in a true way, and she has
+found out the truth of a very old proverb, which says, "No one knows
+what he can do till he tries."
+
+[Illustration: AT THE PICNIC: "I SHAN'T PLAY IF YOU FELLOWS ARE SO
+ROUGH!"]
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Mrs. Creighton (the widow of one of the most brilliant men
+who ever adorned the English episcopate) has herself been an ardent
+worker in literary and social fields. Her appeal to the girls of the
+Empire lays stress on the joy as well as the privilege of service.]
+
+To Girls of the Empire
+
+The Call to Service
+
+BY
+
+MRS. CREIGHTON
+
+
+There are those who speak of patriotism as selfish, and bid us cultivate
+a wider spirit, and think and work for the good of the whole world
+rather than for the good of our own country. It is true that there is a
+narrow and a selfish patriotism which blinds us to the good in other
+nations, which limits our aspirations and breeds a spirit of jealousy
+and self-assertion. The true patriotism leads us to love our country,
+and to work for it because we believe that God has given it a special
+mission, a special part to play in the development of His great purpose
+in the world, and that ours is the high privilege of helping it to
+fulfil that mission.
+
+At this moment there seems to come a special call to women to share in
+the work that we believe the British Empire is bidden to do for the good
+of the whole world. If we British people fail to rise to the great
+opportunity that lies before us, it will be because we love easy ways,
+and material comfort, and all the pleasant things that come to us so
+readily, because we have lost the spirit of enterprise, the capacity to
+do hard things, and are content with trying to get the best out of life
+for ourselves.
+
+We need to keep always a high ideal before us, and as civilisation
+increases and brings ever new possibilities of enjoyment, the
+maintenance of that high ideal becomes always more difficult. Nothing
+helps so much to keep us from low ideals as the conviction that life is
+a call from God to service, and that our truest happiness is to be found
+in using every gift, every capacity that we possess, for the good of
+others.
+
+Girls naturally look forward into life and wonder what it will bring
+them. Those will probably be the happiest who early in life are obliged
+or encouraged to prepare themselves for some definite work. But however
+this may be, they should all from the first realise the bigness of their
+position, and see themselves as citizens of a great country, with a
+great work to do for God in the world.
+
+It may be that they will be called to what seems the most natural work
+for women--to have homes of their own and to realise their citizenship
+as wives and mothers, doing surely the most important work that any
+citizen can fulfil. Or they may have either for a time or for life some
+definite work of their own to do. Everywhere the work of women is being
+increasingly called for in all departments of life, yet women do not
+always show the enterprise to embark on new lines or the energy to
+develop their capacities in such a way as to fit them to do the work
+that lies before them.
+
+It is so easy after schooldays are ended to enjoy all the pleasant
+things that lie around, to slip into what comes easiest, to wait for
+something to turn up, and so really to lose the fruits of past education
+because it is not carried into practice or used as a means for further
+development.
+
+This is the critical period of a girl's life. For a boy every one
+considers the choice of a definite profession imperative; for a girl,
+unless necessity compels it, the general idea is that it would be a pity
+for her to take to any work, let her at any rate wait a bit and enjoy
+herself, then probably something will turn up. This might be all very
+well if the waiting time were used for further education, for
+preparation for the work of life. But in too many cases studies begun at
+school are carried no further, habits of work are lost, and intellectual
+development comes to a standstill.
+
+We are seeing increasingly in every department of life how much depends
+upon the home and upon the training given by the mother, and yet it does
+not seem as if girls as a rule prepared themselves seriously for that
+high position. The mother should be the first, the chief religious
+teacher of her children, but most women are content to be vaguely
+religious themselves whilst hardly knowing what they themselves believe,
+and feeling perfectly incapable of teaching others.
+
+[Sidenote: How to Begin]
+
+Yet how are they to fulfil the call which will surely come to them to
+teach either their own children or those of others if they have not
+troubled to gain religious knowledge for themselves? The Bible, which
+becomes each day a more living book because of all the light thrown upon
+it by recent research, should be known and studied as the great central
+source of teaching on all that concerns the relations between God and
+man. But sometimes we are told that it is less well known now than
+formerly, when real knowledge of it was much more difficult.
+
+Women are said to be naturally more religious than men, but that natural
+religion will have all the stronger influence the more it is founded on
+knowledge, and so is able to stand alone, apart from the stimulus of
+beautiful services or inspiring preaching. Women who follow their
+husbands into the distant parts of the earth, and are called to be
+home-makers in new lands, may find themselves not only compelled to
+stand alone, but called upon to help to maintain the religious life in
+others. They will not be able to do this if, when they had the
+opportunity, they neglected to lay sure foundations for their own
+religious life.
+
+These thoughts may seem to lead us far away from the occupations and
+interests of girlhood; but they emphasise what is the important
+thing--the need to recognise the years of girlhood as years of
+preparation. This is not to take away from the joy of life. The more we
+learn to find joy in all the beauty of life, in books, in art, in
+nature, the more permanent sources of joy we are laying up for the
+future. We must not starve our natures; we should see that every part of
+ourselves is alive and vigorous.
+
+It is because so many women really hardly live at all that their lives
+seem so dull and colourless. They have never taken the trouble to
+develop great parts of themselves, and in consequence they do not notice
+all the beautiful and interesting things in the world around them. They
+have not learnt to use all their faculties, so they are unfit to do the
+work which they might do for the good of others.
+
+Many girls have dreams of the great things they would like to do. But
+they do not know how to begin, and so they are restless and
+discontented. The first thing to do is to train themselves, to do every
+little thing that comes along as well as they can, so as to fit
+themselves for the higher work that may come. It is worth while for them
+to go on with their studies, to train their minds to habits of accurate
+thought, to gain knowledge of all kinds, for all this may not only prove
+useful in the future, but will make them themselves better instruments
+for any work that may come to them to do. It is very worth while to
+learn to be punctual and orderly in little things, to gain business-like
+habits, even to keep accounts and to answer notes promptly--all these
+will be useful in the greater business of life. We must be tried in
+little things before we can be worthy to do big things.
+
+Meanwhile doors are always opening to us whilst we are young, only very
+often we do not think it worth while to go in at the open door because
+it strikes us as dull or unimportant and not the great opportunity that
+we hoped for. But those who go in at the door that opens, that take up
+the dull little job that offers, and do it as well as they can, will
+find, first that it is not so dull as they thought, and then that it
+leads on to something else, and new doors open, and interests grow
+wider, and more important work is offered. Those who will not go in, but
+choose to wait till some more interesting or inviting door opens, will
+find that opportunities grow fewer, that doors are closed instead of
+opened, and life grows narrower instead of wider.
+
+[Sidenote: All the Difference]
+
+It is of course the motive that inspires us that makes all the
+difference. To have once realised life, not as an opportunity for
+self-pleasing, but as an opportunity for service, makes us willing to do
+the small tasks gladly, that they may fit us for the higher tasks. It
+would seem as if to us now came with ever-increasing clearness the call
+to realise more truly throughout the world the great message that Christ
+proclaimed of the brotherhood of men. It is this sense of brotherhood
+that stirs us to make the conditions of life sweet and wholesome for
+every child in our own land, that rouses us to think of the needs of
+those who have never heard the Christian message of love. As we feel
+what it means to know God as our Father, we learn to see all men as our
+brothers, and hence to hear the call to serve them.
+
+It is not necessary to go far to answer this call; brothers and sisters
+who need our love and help are round our doors, even under our own roof
+at home; this sense of brotherhood must be felt with all those with whom
+we come in contact. To some may come the call to realise what it means
+to recognise our brotherhood with peoples of other race and other
+beliefs. Even within our own Empire there are, especially in India,
+countless multitudes waiting for the truth of the gospel to bring light
+and hope into their lives. Do we feel as we should the call that comes
+to us from our sisters the women of India? They are needing teachers,
+doctors, nurses, help that only other women can bring them. Is it not
+worth while for those who are looking out into life, wondering what it
+will mean to them, to consider whether the call may not come to them to
+give themselves to the service of their sisters in the East?
+
+But however this may be, make yourselves ready to hear whatever call may
+come. There is some service wanted from you; to give that service will
+be your greatest blessing, your deepest joy. Whether you are able to
+give that service worthily will depend upon the use you make of the time
+of waiting and preparation. It must be done, not for your own
+gratification, but because you are the followers of One who came, "not
+to be ministered unto, but to minister."
+
+[Illustration: "THE SON OF MAN CAME NOT TO BE MINISTERED UNTO, BUT TO
+MINISTER."]
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A very singular adventure befell two young people, who
+entertained a stranger unawares.]
+
+My Dangerous Maniac
+
+BY
+
+LESLIE M. OYLER
+
+
+It was a glorious July morning, the kind of morning that makes you feel
+how good it is to be alive and young--and, incidently, to hope that the
+tennis-courts won't be too dry.
+
+You see Gerald, my brother, and I were invited to an American tournament
+for that afternoon, which we were both awfully keen about; then mother
+and father were coming home in the evening, after having been away a
+fortnight, and, though on the whole I had got on quite nicely with the
+housekeeping, it _would_ be a relief to be able to consult mother again.
+Things have a knack of not going so smoothly when mothers are away, as I
+daresay you've noticed.
+
+I had been busy making strawberry jam, which had turned out very well,
+all except the last lot. Gerald called me to see his new ferret just
+after I had put the sugar in, and, by the time I got back, the jam had,
+most disagreeably, got burnt.
+
+That's just the way with cooking. You stand and watch a thing for ages,
+waiting for it to boil; but immediately you go out of the room it
+becomes hysterical and boils all over the stove; so it is borne in on
+me that you must "keep your eye on the ball," otherwise the saucepan,
+when cooking.
+
+However, when things are a success it feels quite worth the trouble.
+Gerald insisted on "helping" me once, rather against cook's wish, and
+made some really delicious meringues, only he _would_ eat them before
+they were properly baked!
+
+The gong rang, and I ran down to breakfast; Gerald was late, as usual,
+but he came at last.
+
+"Here's a letter from Jack," I remarked, passing it across; "see what he
+says."
+
+Jack was one of our oldest friends; he went to school with Gerald, and
+they were then both at Oxford together. He had always spent his holidays
+with us as he had no mother, and his father, who was a most brilliant
+scholar, lived in India, engaged in research work; but this vac. Mr.
+Marriott was in England, and Jack and he were coming to stay with us the
+following day.
+
+[Illustration: GERALD LOOKED PUZZLED.]
+
+Gerald read the letter through twice, and then looked puzzled.
+
+"Which day were they invited for, Margaret?" he asked.
+
+"To-morrow, of course, the 13th."
+
+"Well, they're coming this evening by the 7.2."
+
+I looked over his shoulder; it _was_ the 12th undoubtedly. "And mother
+and father aren't coming till the 9.30," I sighed; "I wish they were
+going to be here in time for dinner to entertain Mr. Marriott; he's sure
+to be eccentric--clever people always are."
+
+"Yes," agreed Gerald, "he'll talk miles above our heads; but never mind,
+there'll be old Jack."
+
+Cook and I next discussed the menu. I rather thought curry should figure
+in it, as Mr. Marriott came from India; but cook overruled me, saying it
+was "such nasty hot stuff for this weather, and English curry wouldn't
+be like Indian curry either."
+
+When everything was in readiness for our guests Gerald and I went to
+the Prescotts', who were giving the tournament.
+
+We had some splendid games, and Gerald was still playing in an exciting
+match when I found that the Marriotts' train was nearly due. Of course
+he couldn't leave off, so I said that I would meet them and take them
+home; we only lived about a quarter of a mile from the station, and
+generally walked.
+
+I couldn't find my racquet for some time, and consequently had a race
+with the train, which luckily ended in a dead heat, for I reached the
+platform just as it steamed in.
+
+The few passengers quickly dispersed, but there was no sign of Jack; a
+tall, elderly man, wrapped in a thick overcoat, in spite of the hot
+evening, stood forlornly alone. I was just wondering if he could be
+Jack's father when he came up to me and said, "Are you Margaret?"
+
+"Yes," I answered.
+
+"I have often heard my boy speak of you," he said, looking extremely
+miserable.
+
+[Sidenote: Jack does not Come]
+
+"But isn't he coming?" I cried.
+
+He replied "No" in such a hopeless voice and sighed so heavily that I
+was beginning to feel positively depressed, when he changed the subject
+by informing me that his bag had been left behind but was coming on by a
+later train, so, giving instructions for it to be sent up directly it
+arrived, I piloted him out of the station.
+
+I had expected him to be eccentric, but he certainly was the oddest man
+I had ever met; he seemed perfectly obsessed by the loss of his bag, and
+would talk of nothing else, though I was longing to know why Jack hadn't
+come. The absence of his dress clothes seemed to worry him intensely. In
+vain I told him that we need not change for dinner; he said he must, and
+wouldn't be comforted.
+
+"How is Jack?" I asked at last; "why didn't he come with you?"
+
+He looked at me for a moment with an expression of the deepest grief,
+and then said quietly, "Jack is dead."
+
+"_Dead?_" I almost shouted. "Jack dead! You can't mean it!"
+
+But he only repeated sadly, "Jack is dead," and walked on.
+
+It seemed incredible; Jack, whom we had seen a few weeks before so full
+of life and vigour, Jack, who had ridden with us, played tennis, and
+been the leading spirit at our rat hunts, it was too horrible to think
+of!
+
+I felt quite stunned, but the sight of the poor old man who had lost his
+only child roused me.
+
+"I am more sorry than I can say," I ventured; "it must be a terrible
+blow to you."
+
+"Thank you," he said; "you, who knew him well, can realise it more than
+any one; but it was all for the best--I felt that when I did it."
+
+"Did what?" I inquired, thinking that he was straying from the point.
+
+"When I shot him through the head," he replied laconically, as if it
+were the most natural thing in the world.
+
+If he had suddenly pointed a pistol at _my_ head I could not have been
+more astonished; I was absolutely petrified with horror, for the thought
+flashed into my brain that Jack's father must be mad!
+
+His peculiar expression had aroused my curiosity at the station, and his
+next remark confirmed my suspicion.
+
+"You see, he showed unmistakable symptoms of going mad----"
+
+(I had heard that madmen invariably think every one around them is mad,
+and that they themselves are sane.)
+
+"----so I felt it my duty to shoot him; it was all over in a moment."
+
+"Poor Jack!" I cried involuntarily.
+
+"Yes," he answered, "but I should do just the same again if the occasion
+arose."
+
+And he looked at me fixedly.
+
+I felt horribly frightened. Did he think I was mad? And I fell to
+wondering, when he put his hand in his pocket, whether he had the
+revolver there. We had reached our garden gate by this time, where, to
+my infinite relief, we were joined by Gerald, flushed and triumphant
+after winning his match.
+
+After an agonised aside "Don't ask about Jack," I murmured an
+introduction, and we all walked up to the house together. In the hall I
+managed to tell Gerald of our dreadful position, and implored him to
+humour the madman as much as possible until we could form some plan for
+his capture.
+
+"We'll give him dinner just as if nothing has happened, and after that
+I'll arrange something," said Gerald hopefully; "don't you worry."
+
+[Sidenote: A Knife Trick]
+
+Never shall I forget that dinner! We were on tenterhooks the whole time,
+and it made me shudder to see how Mr. Marriott caressed the knives. I
+could scarcely prevent myself screaming when he held one up, and,
+feeling the blade carefully with his finger, said:
+
+"I rather thought of doing this little trick to-night, if you would like
+it; it is very convincing and doesn't take long."
+
+I remembered his remark, "it was all over in a moment," and trembled;
+but Gerald tactfully drew his attention to something else, and dinner
+proceeded peaceably; but he had a horrible fondness for that knife, and,
+when dessert was put on the table, kept it in his hand, "to show us the
+trick afterwards."
+
+I stayed in the dining-room when we had finished; I couldn't bear to
+leave Gerald, and he and I exchanged apprehensive glances when Mr.
+Marriott refused to smoke, giving as his reason that he wanted a steady
+hand for his work later.
+
+He worried ceaselessly about his bag (I began to think the revolver must
+be there), and when, at last, it came he almost ran into the hall to
+open it.
+
+Then Gerald had a brilliant inspiration. Seizing the bag, he carried it
+up to his room, which was at the top of the house. Mr. Marriott eagerly
+followed, and when he was safely in we shut the door and bolted it
+securely on the outside.
+
+"That was a good move, Gerald," I cried, heaving a sigh of relief, "we
+can keep him there till mother and father come home; they can't be very
+long now; perhaps he won't notice he's locked in for some time."
+
+But unfortunately he _did_ notice, for very soon we heard him rattling
+the door handle, and when no one came (for we had had to explain matters
+to the maids, whereat they had all rushed, panic-stricken, to the
+servants' hall), he started banging and shouting louder than ever.
+
+It was an awful time for us; every minute I expected him to burst the
+door open and come tearing downstairs. Gerald wanted to go up and try to
+pacify him, but I told him I was too frightened to be left, which, I
+knew, was the only way of preventing him.
+
+We walked down the garden to see if mother and father were in sight, and
+then----
+
+"Awfully sorry we missed the train," said a cheerful voice, and _Jack_,
+followed by another figure, came through the gate!
+
+"You aren't dead then?" was all I could manage to gasp.
+
+"No, rather not! Very much alive. Here's the pater; but first, tell me,
+why should I be dead?"
+
+Gerald and I began to speak simultaneously, and in the midst of our
+explanations mother and father arrived, so we had to tell them all over
+again.
+
+"The question is, who _is_ your lunatic?" said father, "and----"
+
+But just at that moment we heard frantic shouts from Gerald's bedroom
+window, and found the sham Mr. Marriott leaning out of it in a state of
+frenzy.
+
+He was absolutely furious; but we gathered from his incoherent remarks
+that he was getting very late for a conjuring performance which he had
+promised to give at a friend's house. He vowed that there was some
+conspiracy to prevent him going there at all; first his bag was lost,
+then some one pretended to be his friend's daughter, whom he had never
+seen, and finally he was locked in a room with no means of escape!
+
+[Sidenote: Our Little Mistake]
+
+Then, and only then, did we realise our mistake! The others seemed to
+find it very amusing and shrieked with laughter, but the humour of it
+didn't strike Gerald and me any more than it did the irate conjuror, who
+was promptly released with profuse apologies, and sent in our car to his
+destination. It transpired that his conversation which had so alarmed me
+referred only to a favourite dog of his, and I, of course, had
+unconsciously misled Gerald.
+
+Mr. Marriott proved to be most interesting and amusing, anything but
+eccentric; but I shall _never_ hear the last of my mistake, and to this
+day he and Jack tease me unmercifully about my "dangerous maniac!"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A story of the Canadian North-West Mounted Police, founded on
+fact.]
+
+Jim Rattray, Trooper
+
+BY
+
+KELSO B. JOHNSON
+
+
+"Our Lady of the Snows" resents the title. It is so liable, she
+complains, to give strangers an utterly wrong idea of her climate. And
+yet, at times, when the blizzard piles the swirling snow over fence and
+hollow, until boundaries are lost, and the bewildered wayfarer knows not
+which way to turn, he is apt to think, if he is in a condition to think
+at all, that there is some justice in the description.
+
+But there was no sign of the stern side of nature as Jim Rattray made
+his way westward. The sun shone on the wide, rolling plains, the fresh
+green of the pasture lands, and the young wheat; the blue sky covered
+all with a dome of heaven's own blue, and Jim's heart rejoiced within
+him.
+
+A strapping young fellow was Jim, not long out from the Old Country--the
+sort of young fellow whose bright eyes and fresh open face do one good
+to look at. North-country farming in England was the life to which he
+had looked forward; vigorous sports and hard work in the keen air of the
+Cumberland fells had knit his frame and hardened his muscles; and his
+parents, as they noticed with pride their boy's sturdy limbs, and
+listened in wonder to the bits of learning he brought home from school,
+had looked forward half-unconsciously to the days when he in his turn
+would be master of the farm which Rattrays had held for generations.
+
+Bad days, however, had come for English farmers; the Cumbrian farm had
+to be given up, and Jim's father never recovered from the shock of
+having to leave it. Within a few years Jim was an orphan, alone in the
+world.
+
+[Sidenote: The Great New World]
+
+There was nothing to keep him in England; why should he not try his
+fortune in the great new world beyond the seas, which was crying out for
+stout hearts and hands to develop its treasures? He was young and
+strong: Canada was a land of great possibilities. There was room and a
+chance for all there. His life was before him--what might he not
+achieve!
+
+"What do you propose doing?" asked a fellow-voyager as they landed.
+
+"I really don't quite know," replied Jim. "As soon as possible I must
+get employment on a farm, I suppose, but I hardly know how to set about
+it."
+
+"There won't be much difficulty about that. All you have to do is to let
+it be known at the bureau that you want farm work, and you'll find
+plenty of farmers willing to take you--and glad to get you," he added,
+as his eyes roved over Jim's stalwart figure. "But have you thought of
+the police?"
+
+"The police? No--what have I done?"
+
+His friend laughed.
+
+"I mean the North-West Mounted Police. Why don't you try to join it? If
+they'll take you, you'll take to the life like a duck to water. You
+could join, if you liked, for a short term of years; you would roam
+about over hundreds of miles of country, and get a general knowledge of
+it such as you could hardly get otherwise; then, if you'd like to settle
+down to farming or ranching, the information you had picked up would be
+useful."
+
+Jim pondered over the advice, and finally resolved to follow it. He
+hoped to make his way in the world, and the more knowledge he could gain
+the better.
+
+A few days later saw him on his way westward, his heart bounding with
+the exhilarating beauty of the scene. Already the life at home seemed
+cramped; the wideness and freedom of this great new country intoxicated
+him.
+
+"Do we want a recruit? No, we don't!" said the sergeant at Regina, to
+whom Jim applied. "Stay a bit, though; you needn't be in such a hurry.
+Just out from the Old Country, I suppose. Do you know anything about
+horses? Can you ride?"
+
+"Yes," said Jim humbly.
+
+"Let's try you," and the sergeant led the way into the riding-school.
+"We call this one 'Brown Billy,'" he remarked, indicating a
+quiet-looking horse. "Think you can sit on him?"
+
+"I'll try," said Jim.
+
+Riding Brown Billy seemed ridiculously easy at first. Suddenly, however,
+without the slightest warning, Jim found himself gripping with his knees
+the sides of an animal that was dancing wildly on its hind legs.
+
+Jim caught a grin on the faces of the sergeant and some of the other
+bystanders, and setting his teeth he held on grimly. This was evidently
+a favourite trick of Brown Billy's, and the sergeant knew it. Well, they
+should see that British grit was not to be beaten.
+
+Seemingly conquered, Brown Billy dropped again on all-fours. Scarcely
+had Jim begun to congratulate himself on his victory when Billy's head
+went down between his forelegs, his hind-quarters rose, and Jim was
+neatly deposited on hands and knees a few feet ahead.
+
+The grins were noticeably broader as Jim rose, crimson with vexation.
+
+"Thought you could sit him, eh?" laughed the sergeant. "Well, you kept
+on longer than some I've seen, and you didn't try to hug him around the
+neck, either. You're not the first old Billy has played that trick on,
+by a long way. You'll make a rider yet! Come along and let us see what
+else you can do."
+
+[Sidenote: Enrolled]
+
+As a result of the searching examination Jim underwent he found himself
+enrolled as a recruit. He was glad to find that there were among his new
+companions others who had fallen victims to Brown Billy's wiles, and who
+in consequence thought none the worse of him for his adventure.
+
+Into the work that followed Jim threw himself with all his might. Never
+had instructors a more willing pupil, and it was a proud day for Jim
+when he was passed out of the training-school as a qualified trooper.
+
+Jim found himself one of an exceedingly small party located apparently a
+hundred miles from anywhere. Their nearest neighbours were a tribe of
+Indians, whose mixture of childishness and cunning shrewdness made them
+an interesting study. These gave little trouble; they had more or less
+accepted the fact that the white man was now in possession of the
+domains of their forefathers, and that their best course was to behave
+themselves. When the presence of the police was required, Jim was almost
+amused at the docility with which his directions were generally obeyed.
+
+He delighted in the life--the long rides, the occasional camping out on
+the plains far from any dwelling, the knowledge that he must rely upon
+himself. He felt more of a man; his powers of endurance increased until
+he took a positive pleasure in exercising them to their fullest possible
+extent. Meanwhile, nothing more exciting happened than the tracking and
+capture of an occasional horse-thief.
+
+Winter set in early and hard. Snow fell until it lay feet deep, and
+still the stormy winds brought more. One day the sergeant came in with a
+troubled face.
+
+"Wightman's horses have stampeded," he announced. "They'll be gone coons
+if they're not rounded up and brought in."
+
+"Let me go, sergeant!" said Jim.
+
+The sergeant shook his head. "It's no work for a young hand. The oldest
+might lose his bearings in weather like this."
+
+"Let me go, sergeant!" Jim repeated. "If those horses are to be brought
+in I can do it." There was a world of pleading in his tone, and the
+sergeant guessed the reason.
+
+"I meant no reflection on you, my lad," said he. "It's no weather for
+anybody to be out in. All the same, if those horses aren't to be a dead
+loss, somebody's got to round them up."
+
+Finally Jim got his way. In a temporary lull about midday he set out on
+his stout horse, well wrapped up in the thick woollen garments provided
+for such times as these, and determined to bring in those horses, or
+perish in the attempt.
+
+"They went off sou'-west," shouted the sergeant. "I should----" A
+furious blast as the gale recommenced carried away whatever else he
+might have said, and Jim was alone with his good horse on the prairie.
+
+There was no hesitancy in his mind. South-west he would push as hard as
+he could go. The animals had probably not gone far; he must soon come up
+with them, and the sooner the better.
+
+Gallantly his steed stepped out through the deepening snowdrifts. Fain
+would the sensible animal have turned and made his way back to his
+stable, but Jim's credit was at stake, and no turning back was allowed.
+Mile after mile was covered; where could those animals be in this storm?
+
+Ha! a sudden furious rush of wind brought Jim's horse nearly to its
+knees. How the gale roared, and how the snow drove in his face! Up and
+on again, south-west after those horses!
+
+But which _was_ the south-west? The daylight had completely faded; not a
+gleam showed where the sun had set. Jim felt for his pocket-compass; it
+was gone! The wind, blowing apparently from every quarter in
+succession, was no guide at all. Nothing was visible more than a yard
+away; nothing within that distance but driving snowflakes. Any tracks of
+the runaways would be covered up in a few moments; in any case there was
+no light to discern them.
+
+[Sidenote: Lost!]
+
+However, it was of no use to stand still. By pressing on he might
+overtake his quarry, and after fright had driven them away, instinct
+might lead them home. That was now the only chance of safety. Would he
+ever find them?
+
+Deeper and deeper sank his horse into the snow; harder and harder it
+became to raise its hoofs clear for the next step. Snorting with fear,
+and trembling in every limb, the gallant beast struggled on. He _must_
+go on! To stop would be fatal. Benumbed as he was by the intense cold,
+bewildered by the storm, with hand and voice Jim cheered on his steed,
+and nobly it responded.
+
+Suddenly it sank under him. A hollow, treacherously concealed by the
+snow, had received them both into its chilly depths.
+
+"Up again, old boy!" cried Jim, springing from the saddle, and tugging
+at the rein, sinking to the waist in the soft snow as he did so. "Now
+then, one more try!"
+
+The faithful horse struggled desperately to respond to the words. But
+its strength was spent; its utmost exertions would not suffice to
+extricate it. The soft snow gave way under its hoofs; deeper and deeper
+it sank. With a despairing scream it made a last futile effort, then it
+stretched its neck along the snow, and with a sob lay down to die.
+Further efforts to move it would be thrown away, and Jim knew it. In a
+few minutes it would be wrapped in its winding-sheet.
+
+With a lump in his throat Jim turned away--whither? His own powers had
+nearly ebbed out. Of what use was it to battle further against the gale,
+when he knew not in which direction to go?
+
+With a sharp setting of the teeth he set himself to stimulate into
+activity his benumbed faculties. Where was he? What was he doing there?
+Ah, yes, he was after those stampeded horses. Well, he would never come
+up with them now. He had done his best, and he had failed.
+
+Taking out his notebook, as well as his benumbed powers would let him,
+Jim scrawled a few words in the darkness. The powers of nature had been
+too strong for him. What was a man to set himself against that tempest?
+
+But stay! there was One stronger than the gale. Man was beyond hearing,
+but was not God everywhere? Now, if ever, was the time to call upon Him.
+
+No words would come but the familiar "Our Father," which Jim had said
+every night for longer than he could remember. He had no power to think
+out any other petition. "Our Father," he muttered drowsily, "which art
+in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done. . . ."
+
+The murmur ceased; the speaker was asleep.
+
+They found him a few days later, when the snow had ceased to fall, and
+the wind swept over the prairie, stripping off the deadly white
+covering, and leaving the khaki jacket a conspicuous object. The
+sergeant saw it, and pointed--he could not trust his voice to speak.
+Eagerly the little band bent over the body of their comrade.
+
+"Why, he's smiling! And see here! he's been writing something in his
+notebook. What is it?"
+
+Reverently they took the book from the brown hand, and the sergeant read
+the words aloud:
+
+"Lost, horse dead. Am trying to push on. Have done my best."
+
+"That he did. There was good stuff in him, lads, and perhaps he was
+wanted up aloft!"
+
+A solemn hush held the party. "'I did my best,'" said a trooper softly
+at length. "Ah, well, it'll be a good job for all of us, if when our
+time comes we can say that with as much truth as he!"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Mary sacrificed herself to help another. The renunciation in
+time brought reward.]
+
+Mary's Stepping Aside
+
+BY
+
+EDITH C. KENYON
+
+
+"How very foolish of you! So unbusinesslike!" cried Mrs. Croft angrily.
+
+"I could not do anything else, Hetty. Poor Ethel is worse off than we
+are. She has her widowed mother to help; they are all so poor, and it
+was such a struggle for Mrs. Forrest to pay that �160 for Ethel's two
+years' training in the Physical Culture College. You know, when Ethel
+and I entered for training, there was a good demand for teachers of
+physical culture, but now, alas! the supply exceeds the demand, and it
+has been such a great trouble to Ethel that she could not get a post,
+and begin to repay her mother for the outlay. She failed every time she
+tried to secure an appointment; the luck seemed always against her. And
+now she was next to me, and I had only to step aside to enable her to
+receive the appointment."
+
+"And you did so! That is just like you, Mary. You will never get on in
+the world. What will people say? They are already wondering why my
+clever sister is not more successful."
+
+"Does it really matter what people think?" questioned Mary, and there
+was a far-away look in her blue eyes, as she glanced through the window
+at the wide stretch of moorland to be seen from it.
+
+She had been to London to try to secure an appointment as teacher of
+physical culture at a large ladies' college. There were several
+applicants for the appointment, which was worth �100 a year and board
+and lodging, not bad for a commencement, and she was successful.
+
+The lady principal came out to tell her so, and mentioned that Ethel
+Forrest, her college friend, was the next to her, adding that the latter
+appeared to be a remarkably nice girl and very capable. In a moment, as
+Mary realised how terrible poor Ethel's disappointment would be, she
+resolved to step aside in order that her friend might have the
+appointment.
+
+The lady principal was surprised, and a little offended, but forthwith
+gave Ethel Forrest the post, and Mary was more than repaid by Ethel's
+unbounded gratitude.
+
+"I can't tell you what it is to me to obtain this good appointment," she
+said, when they came away together. "Poor mother will now cease to
+deplore the money she could so ill afford to spend on my training. You
+see, it seemed as if she had robbed the younger children for me, and
+that it was money thrown away when she could so ill spare it, but now I
+shall repay her as soon as possible out of my salary, and the children
+will have a chance."
+
+"Yes, I know. That is why I did it," Mary said. "And I am happy in your
+happiness, Ethel darling."
+
+"But I am afraid it is rather irksome for you, living so long with your
+sister and brother-in-law, although they are so well off," Ethel
+remarked, after a while.
+
+"That is a small matter in comparison," Mary said lightly. "And I am so
+happy about you, Ethel, your mother will be so pleased."
+
+It seemed to Mary afterwards, when she left Ethel and went by express to
+York, where she took a slow train to the little station on the moors
+near her sister's home, that her heart was as light and happy as if she
+had received a great gift instead of surrendering an advantage. Truly
+it is more blessed to give than to receive, for there is no joy so pure
+as "the joy of doing kindnesse."
+
+But on her arrival at the house which had been her home since her
+parents died, she found herself being severely blamed for what she had
+done.
+
+In vain Mary reminded her sister that she was not exactly poor, and
+certainly not dependent upon her. Their father had left a very moderate
+income to both his daughters, Hetty the elder, who had married Dr.
+Croft, a country practitioner, and Mary, who, as a sensible modern young
+woman, determined to have a vocation, and go in for the up-to-date work
+of teaching physical culture.
+
+Finding she could make no impression upon her sister, Mrs. Croft
+privately exhorted her husband to speak to Mary about the disputed
+point.
+
+That evening, therefore, after dinner, as they sat round the fire
+chatting, the doctor remarked: "But you know, Mary, it won't do to step
+aside for others to get before you in the battle of life. You owe a duty
+to yourself and--and your friends."
+
+"I am quite aware of that," Mary replied, "but this was such an
+exceptional case. Ethel Forrest is so poor, and----"
+
+[Sidenote: "Each for Himself!"]
+
+"Yes, yes. But, my dear girl, it is each for himself in this world."
+
+"Is it?" Mary asked, and again there was a wistful, far-away look in her
+blue eyes. With an effort, she pulled herself together, and went on
+softly: "Shall I tell you what I saw as I returned home across the moor
+from the station? The day was nearly over, and the clouds were gathering
+overhead. The wind was rising and falling as it swept across the
+moorland. The rich purple of the heather had gone, and was succeeded by
+dull brown--sometimes almost grey--each little floret of the ling, as
+Ruskin said, folding itself into a cross as it was dying. Poor little
+purply-pink petals! They had had their day, they had had their fill of
+sunshine, they had been breathed on by the soft breezes of a genial
+summer, and now all the brightness for them was over; they folded their
+petals, becoming just like a cross as they silently died away. You see,"
+she looked up with a smile, "even the heather knows that the way of
+self-sacrifice is the only way that is worth while."
+
+There was silence for a few minutes. The crimson light from the shaded
+candles fell softly on Mary's face, beautiful in its sincerity and sweet
+wistfulness.
+
+The doctor shook his head. "I should never have got on in life if I had
+acted in that way," he said.
+
+"You are quite too sentimental, Mary," remarked her sister harshly.
+"Why, the world would not go on if we all did as you do. All the same,"
+she added, almost grudgingly, "you are welcome to stay here till you get
+another appointment."
+
+Mary rose and kissed her. "You shan't regret it, Hetty," she said. "I
+will try to help you all I can while I stay, but I may soon get another
+appointment."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fifteen months afterwards there was great rejoicing in Mrs. Forrest's
+small and overcrowded house in Croydon, because her youngest brother had
+returned from New Zealand with quite a large fortune, which he declared
+gallantly that he was going to share with her.
+
+"Half shall be settled on you and your children, Margaret," he said, "as
+soon as the lawyers can fix it up. You will be able to send your boys to
+Oxford, and give your girls dowries. By the by, how is my old favourite
+Ethel? And what is she doing?"
+
+"She teaches physical culture in a large ladies' college in the West
+End. It is a good appointment. Her salary has been raised; it is now
+�130, with board and lodging."
+
+That did not seem much to the wealthy colonial, but he smiled. "And how
+did she get the post?" he said. "I remember in one of your letters you
+complained that her education had cost a lot, and that she was very
+unlucky about getting anything to do."
+
+[Sidenote: Uncle Max]
+
+"Yes, it was so, Max. But she owed her success at last to the kindness
+of a friend of hers, who won this appointment, and then stepped aside
+for her to have it."
+
+"Grand!" cried Max Vernon heartily. "What a good friend that was! It is
+a real pleasure to hear of such self-sacrifice in this hard, work-a-day
+world. I should like to know that young woman," he continued. "What is
+she doing now?"
+
+"I don't know," replied his sister. "But here comes Ethel. She will tell
+you."
+
+Ethel had come over from the college on purpose to see her uncle, and
+was delighted to welcome him home. He was not more than ten years older
+than herself, there being more than that between him and her mother. His
+success in New Zealand was partly owing to his charming personality,
+which caused him to win the love of his first employer, who adopted him
+as his son and heir some six years before he died, leaving all his money
+to him. Ethel had pleasant memories of her uncle's kindness to her when
+a child.
+
+When hearty greetings had been exchanged between the uncle and niece,
+Margaret Forrest said to her daughter: "I have been telling your uncle
+about your friend Mary Oliver's giving up that appointment for you, and
+he wants to know where she is now, and what she is doing."
+
+"Ah, poor Mary!" said Ethel ruefully. "I am really very troubled about
+her. Her sister and brother-in-law lost all their money through that
+recent bank failure, and Dr. Croft took it badly. His losses seemed to
+harden him. Declaring that he could not carry on his practice in the
+country without capital, he sold it and arranged to go to New Zealand,
+though his wife had fallen into ill-health and could not possibly
+accompany him. He went abroad, leaving her in London in wretched
+lodgings. Then Mary gave up her good situation as teacher of physical
+culture in a private school, and took a less remunerative appointment so
+that she might live with her poor sister, and look after her, especially
+at nights. I believe there is a lot of night nursing. It's awfully hard
+and wearing for Mary, but she does it all so willingly, I believe she
+positively enjoys it, though I cannot help being anxious lest her health
+should break down."
+
+"She must not be allowed to do double work like that," said the
+colonial. "No one can work by day and night as well without breaking
+down."
+
+"But what is she to do?" queried Ethel. "She is obliged to earn money
+for their maintenance."
+
+"We might put a little in her way," suggested Vernon.
+
+Ethel shook her head. "She is very sweet," she said, "but I fancy she
+would not like to accept money as a gift."
+
+Max Vernon assented. "Exactly," he said, "I know the sort. But she could
+not object to take it if it were her right."
+
+Margaret Forrest smiled, scenting a romance. "I will have her here to
+tea on her next half-holiday," she said; "then you will see her."
+
+But Vernon could not wait till then. He and Ethel made up a plan that
+they would go to Mrs. Croft's rooms that very evening, in order that he
+might personally thank Mary for her goodness to his niece.
+
+Mary thought she had never seen such a kind, strong face as his, when he
+stood before her expressing his gratitude for what she had done for
+Ethel, and also his sympathy with her troubles, of which Ethel had told
+him.
+
+That was the beginning, and afterwards he was often in her home,
+bringing gifts for the querulous invalid, and, better still, hope for
+the future of her husband, about whom he interested a friend of his, who
+was doing well out in New Zealand, and looking out for a partner with
+some knowledge of medicine.
+
+[Illustration: IT WAS UNDER A NOBLE TREE THAT MAX ASKED MARY TO MARRY
+HIM.]
+
+It was at a picnic, under a noble tree, that Max asked Mary to marry
+him, and learned to his great joy how fully his love was returned.
+
+Mary thought there was no one like him. So many had come to her for
+help, but only he came to give with both hands, esteeming all he gave as
+nothing if only he could win her smile and her approval.
+
+So it happened that by the time Mrs. Croft had so far recovered as to be
+able to join her husband, her departure was delayed one week, in order
+that she might be present at her sister's wedding.
+
+[Sidenote: Not so Foolish after all!]
+
+"After all, Mary," she said, when at last she was saying goodbye, "your
+happiness has come to you as a direct result of your kindness to Ethel
+Forrest in stepping aside for her to have that appointment. You were
+therefore not so foolish after all."
+
+Mary laughed joyously. "I never thought I was," she said. "There's an
+old-fashioned saying, you know, that 'it is more blessed to give than to
+receive.'"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: How a plucky girl averted a terrible danger from marauding
+Redskins.]
+
+A Race for Life
+
+BY
+
+LUCIE E. JACKSON
+
+
+The McArthurs were fortunate people. Everybody said that Mr. McArthur
+must have been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, for
+though he had come to Tulaska with barely a red cent in his pocket,
+everything he attempted succeeded. His land increased, his cattle
+increased, his home grew in proportion to his land, his wife was a
+perfect manager, and his only child was noted for her beauty and daring.
+
+A tall, graceful girl was Rosalind McArthur, with her mother's fine skin
+and Irish blue eyes, her father's strength of mind and fearless bearing.
+At nineteen years of age she could ride as straight as any man, could
+paddle her canoe as swiftly as any Indian, and could shoot as well as
+any settler in the land.
+
+Added to all this, McArthur was a good neighbour, a kind friend, a
+genial companion, and a succourer of those in need of help. Thus when it
+became reported that the Indians had been making a raid upon a small
+settlement on the borders, and it was likely their next incursion would
+be directed against McArthur's clearing, the owners of small holdings
+declared their intention to stand shoulder to shoulder, and fight, if
+need be, for their more prosperous neighbour.
+
+"I think it must have been a false report. Here have we been waiting,
+gun in hand, for the last two months, and not a sign of a Redskin's
+tomahawk have we seen," said Rosalind cheerfully, as she and her parents
+rose from their evening meal.
+
+"Thank God if it be so," returned her mother.
+
+"We'll not slacken our vigilance, however," was McArthur's answer.
+
+At that instant a rapping at the house door was heard, and McArthur
+rose.
+
+"It must be Frank Robertson. He'll probably want a shake-down, wife."
+
+"He can have it if he wants it," was Mrs. McArthur's cordial answer.
+
+"Many thanks, but he won't trespass on your hospitality," said the
+new-comer, a tall, handsome young settler, entering as he spoke. "No,
+McArthur, I cannot stay. I have come but for five minutes on my way back
+to the village."
+
+"You can at least sit down," said McArthur, pulling forward a chair.
+"What is the latest news?"
+
+"Nothing, beyond the report that the Indians appear to have shifted
+themselves elsewhere."
+
+"Well, that is news," said Rosalind, looking up with a smile.
+
+"You say, 'appear to have shifted themselves,'" said McArthur. "I shall
+still keep on the defensive. I wouldn't trust a Redskin for a good
+deal."
+
+"True enough," was the answer. "McArthur, whom could you send to the
+village for need at a critical time?"
+
+"I doubt if I could spare a man. Every hand would be wanted, every rifle
+needed, for I know not in what numbers the Redskins might come."
+
+[Sidenote: "I could go!"]
+
+"I could ride to the village," announced Rosalind calmly. "Golightly and
+I would cover the ground in no time."
+
+"You, my darling!" Mrs. McArthur ejaculated in horror.
+
+McArthur waved his daughter's words aside.
+
+"You do not know, my child, what danger you would court."
+
+"Of course, Miss McArthur is out of the question," said the young man,
+and smiled as Rosalind darted an indignant glance at him.
+
+"At any rate, I am at your service if you need me," he continued. "I
+trust I may not be called out for such a purpose, but if I am, I and my
+rifle are at your disposal."
+
+"Thanks, Robertson, you are a good fellow," returned McArthur heartily,
+grasping the young man's hand.
+
+In a few minutes he rose to go. Rosalind accompanied him to the house
+door.
+
+"Mr. Robertson," she said abruptly, as soon as they were out of hearing,
+"which would be the shortest cut to the village? By the woods or by the
+river?" He looked keenly at her.
+
+"You meant what you said just now?"
+
+"Of course I meant it. I--I would do anything to save my father's and
+mother's lives, and their property, which father has secured by dint of
+so much labour."
+
+He took her hand in his.
+
+"Rosalind," he said softly, "if anything happened to you, my life would
+be of no worth to me."
+
+She flushed all over her fair skin.
+
+"It is better to be prepared for an emergency," she answered gently,
+"and I do not think I would run such a great risk as you and my father
+think."
+
+"You do not know the Redskin," was the grave answer.
+
+"You heard my father say he couldn't spare a man. How much more use I
+would be if I brought help than stayed here and perhaps shot a couple of
+Indians, who might overpower us by their numbers. I was wondering if
+Golightly and the woods would be a shorter way than my canoe and the
+river?"
+
+He had both her hands in his, and was looking down into her eyes.
+
+"The woods and Golightly would be the swiftest way to communicate with
+us in the village."
+
+"Then if need be I shall do it."
+
+"Take the right-hand track straight through the wood, and God protect
+you, Rosalind. My house will be the first one you will come to. Let me
+be the first to spring to your aid. No man will step into the stirrup
+with greater alacrity than I. But, please God, there may be no need for
+you to go."
+
+He lifted her hands to his lips and was gone.
+
+Two days passed and nothing of moment happened. But on the evening of
+the third, two men in McArthur's employ entered the house breathless
+with excitement. Feathertop--an Indian chief noted for the number of
+scalps which adorned his person--had been seen in the vicinity of the
+small settlement.
+
+McArthur, with a grim fixedness of countenance, saw to the priming of
+his rifle for the fiftieth time; and Rosalind, with her father's
+courage, examined her own weapon, which she had resolved to take with
+her for safety if Golightly had to be requisitioned.
+
+"Rosalind, those chaps will be on us to-night or to-morrow morning."
+
+It was McArthur who spoke, and Rosalind knew that her own misgivings had
+taken root also within her father's mind.
+
+"Because of Feathertop?" she asked bravely.
+
+"Yes. He is never lurking about unless he means business."
+
+"Could David and Jim have been misinformed?"
+
+"I don't think so."
+
+"Then, father, I shall ride to the village."
+
+[Sidenote: Rosalind's Resolve]
+
+McArthur looked at his daughter. He saw her face, he saw her figure.
+Both were alive with determination and courage.
+
+"Rosalind, you will kill your mother if you attempt to do such a
+thing."
+
+"Don't tell her unless you are obliged. It is to save her that I do it.
+Give her a rifle--keep her employed--let her think I am with some of the
+neighbours. Father, we do not know if we shall be outnumbered. If we
+are, what will happen? All your cattle will go--your whole property will
+be ruined, and, worse than all put together, we shall probably lose our
+lives in a horrible manner."
+
+"I acknowledge all that you say, but one of the men must go. You with
+your rifle can take his place, and do just as much execution as he
+can----"
+
+David put his head in at the door.
+
+"We've brought all the live-stock as close to the house as possible. Jim
+has been stealing round the plantation by the river, and says he has
+distinctly seen three Redskins on the other side of the river. We must
+be prepared for an attack this evening."
+
+"David, can you get me Golightly without attracting attention? I am
+going to ride him at once to the village."
+
+"Mercy on us!" exclaimed David. "Is there no one but you to do that?"
+
+"No. You and all the rest must defend my father and mother. I shall keep
+on this side of the river, and will go through the wood. If I go at once
+I may prevent an attack. David, every minute is of value. Fetch me
+Golightly. Father, I am not of such importance as the men here, but I
+can ride, and I can defend myself with my rifle if need be."
+
+"Then God go with you, my child."
+
+Only McArthur, and David, and the moon saw Rosalind spring to her seat
+on Golightly's back. Only the moon saw her with flushed cheeks and
+beating heart riding for life through the trees of the forest. If only
+she could get clear of the first two or three miles, she was safe to
+reach her destination in time.
+
+The track was clearly discernible except when the swiftly-flying clouds
+obscured the moon's light. The soughing of the wind in the tree-tops,
+together with the soft springy turf, helped to somewhat deaden the
+sound of Golightly's hoofs. The good horse scented danger in the air and
+in the tone of his mistress's voice, and with true instinct galloped
+through the wood, conscious of the caressing finger-tips which ever and
+anon silently encouraged him.
+
+"Bang!"
+
+It was unexpected, and Golightly sprang into the air, only to gallop on
+again like lightning. Rosalind's heart was going pretty fast now. She
+could see two or three dark forms gliding serpent-like through the
+trees, but Golightly's rapid progress baulked their aim. Ah, there are
+some figures in advance of her! Courage, Rosalind, courage! Her rifle is
+ready.
+
+"Golightly, dear Golightly, save us both," she whispers. And Golightly
+tosses up his head with a little whinny of comprehension, and, bracing
+up every nerve, prepares for a rush through that ominous path blocked as
+it is by two dark figures.
+
+[Sidenote: Rosalind's Rifle speaks]
+
+"Bang!"
+
+It is Rosalind's rifle this time, and a scream, shrill and piercing,
+rends the air. One form drops like a stone right across the path. But
+there is another to dispose of. His rifle is raised. Either Golightly or
+his mistress will receive the contents of that barrel. But Rosalind's
+hand never wavers as she points at that upraised arm.
+
+"Bang!"
+
+"Bang!"
+
+The two shots resound almost simultaneously, but Rosalind's is first by
+half a second. Again a scream rends the air, and yet another, coming
+this time from the rear. Rosalind's palpitating heart prevents her from
+glancing about to learn the cause. She knows she has shot the Indian in
+the right arm, but she does not know, and will never know, that her
+opportune shot has saved herself and her steed from being fired at from
+behind as well as in front. For when the Indian's arm was struck, it
+directed the contents of his rifle away from the point he aimed at. He
+shot half a second after Rosalind's fire, and killed his chief
+Feathertop, who was lurking in the background, grinning horribly at his
+good fortune in taking aim at the back of the paleface and her flying
+steed.
+
+Over the body of the dead Indian Golightly springs, paying no heed to
+the savage Redskin who stands aside from the trampling hoofs with his
+right arm hanging broken at his side. He is helpless, but he may yet do
+damage to Rosalind's cause. She lifts her rifle in passing him, and aims
+once more at his retreating form. He springs into the air, and, without
+a groan or cry, meets his death.
+
+Rosalind has cleared her path from further danger. Ride swiftly though
+she does, no lurking forms are seen, no gliding figures block her way.
+But the danger she has gone through has taken all her strength from her.
+She leans her cheek on Golightly's sympathetic head and sobs out her
+gratitude to him.
+
+When a foam-flecked steed dashed up to the first house in the village
+there was great commotion. Frank Robertson, with his mother and sisters,
+rushed out to find a white-faced Rosalind, spent and nearly fainting,
+sitting limply on Golightly's back. She had no words to explain her
+presence. She could only look at them with lack-lustre eyes. But
+Golightly turned his head as the young man lifted her gently off, and
+his eloquent eyes said as plainly as any words could say--
+
+"Deal gently with her; she has gone through more than you will ever
+know, and has played her part bravely."
+
+His comfort was looked after in as great degree as was Rosalind's. For
+while Rosalind lay on a couch, faint but smiling, and listening to the
+praises which the women-folk showered upon her, Golightly was stabled
+and rubbed down by two of Robertson's hired men, and caressed and given
+a good feed of corn with as many admiring words thrown in as ever his
+mistress had.
+
+No time was lost in collecting a good body of mounted men, and away they
+rode with Frank Robertson at their head, arriving in good time to save
+McArthur's home and family from savage destruction by the Redskins.
+
+[Sidenote: Their Last Visit]
+
+With the knowledge that their chief Feathertop was killed, the Indians'
+enthusiasm cooled, and those who could saved their lives by flying to
+their homes in the mountains. McArthur was never again troubled by a
+visit from them, and lived to rejoice in the marriage of his brave
+daughter to Frank Robertson.
+
+The young couple settled within a couple of miles of McArthur's
+homestead, and as each anniversary of Rosalind's ride came round, it was
+a familiar sight to see old McArthur standing up amongst the great
+gathering of friends to praise the brave girl who jeopardised her life
+that moonlight night to save the lives and property of those dearest to
+her.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Mittie's love of self might have led on to a tragedy. Happily
+the issue was of quite another kind.]
+
+Which of the Two?
+
+BY
+
+AGNES GIBERNE
+
+
+"It's going to be a glorious day--just glorious! Joan, we must do
+something--not sit moping indoors from morning till night!"
+
+Mittie never did sit indoors from morning till night; but this was a
+figure of speech.
+
+"I'm all alive to be off--I don't care where. Oh, do think of a plan!
+It's the sort of weather that makes one frantic to be away--to have
+something happen. Don't you feel so?"
+
+She looked longingly through the bow-window, across the small, neat
+lawn, divided by low shrubs from a quiet road, not far beyond which lay
+the river. The sisters were at breakfast together in the morning-room,
+which was bathed in an early flood of sunshine.
+
+Three years before this date they had been left orphaned and destitute,
+and had come to their grandmother's home--a comfortable and charming
+little country house, and, in their circumstances, a very haven of
+refuge, but, still, a trifle dull for two young girls. Mittie often
+complained of its monotony. Joan, eighteen months the elder, realised
+how different their condition would have been had they not been welcomed
+here. But she, too, was conscious of dulness, for she was only
+eighteen.
+
+[Sidenote: "Think of Something!"]
+
+"Such sunshine! It's just _ordering_ us to be out. Joan, be sensible,
+and think of something we can do--something jolly, something new! Just
+for one day can't we leave everything and have a bit of fun? I'm aching
+for a little fun! Oh, do get out of the jog-trot for once! Don't be
+humdrum!"
+
+"Am I humdrum?" Joan asked. She was not usually counted so attractive as
+the fluffy-haired, lively Mittie, but she looked very pretty at this
+moment. The early post had come in; and as she read the one note which
+fell to her share a bright colour, not often seen there, flushed her
+cheeks, and a sweet half-glad half-anxious expression stole into her
+eyes.
+
+"Awfully humdrum, you dear old thing! You always were, you know. How is
+Grannie to-day?" Mittie seldom troubled herself to see the old lady
+before breakfast, but left such attentions to Joan.
+
+"She doesn't seem very well, and she is rather--depressed. I'm afraid we
+couldn't possibly both leave her for the whole day--could we?" There was
+a touch of troubled hesitation in the manner, and Joan sent a quick
+inquiring glance at the other's face.
+
+"No chance of that. We never do leave her for a whole day; and if we did
+we should never hear the end of it. But we might surely be off after
+breakfast, and take our lunch, and come back in time for tea. She might
+put up with that, I do think. Oh dear me! Why can't old people remember
+that once upon a time they were young, and didn't like to be tied up
+tight? But, I suppose, in those days nobody minded. I know I mind
+now--awfully! I'm just crazy to be off on a spree. What shall we do,
+Joan? Think of something."
+
+"Mittie, dear----"
+
+"That's right. You've got a notion. Have it out!"
+
+"It isn't--what you think. I have something else to say. A note has come
+from Mrs. Ferris."
+
+"Well--what then?"
+
+"She wants me--us--to go to her for the day."
+
+Mittie clapped her hands.
+
+"Us! Both of us, do you mean? How lovely! I didn't know she was aware of
+my existence. Oh, yes, of course, I've seen her lots of times, but she
+always seems to think I'm a child still. She never asked me there before
+for a whole day. How are we to go? Will she send for us?"
+
+"Yes, but--but, Mittie--we can't both leave Grannie all those hours. She
+would be so hurt."
+
+"So cross, you mean. You don't expect _me_ to stay behind, I hope!
+_Me_--to spend a long endless day here, poking in Grannie's bedroom, and
+picking up her stitches, and being scolded for every mortal thing I do
+and don't do, while you are off on a lovely jaunt! Not I! You're very
+much mistaken if that is what you expect. Will Mrs. Ferris send the
+carriage or the motor?"
+
+"She is sending the boat. And her son----"
+
+"What! is he going to row us? That nice fellow! He rows splendidly, I
+know. I shall get him to let me take an oar. It's as easy as anything,
+going down the stream. Oh, we must do it, Joan--we really, really
+_must_! Grannie will have to put up for once with being alone. Is he
+coming by himself?"
+
+"Yes--no--I mean, he will drop his sister Mary at The Laurels and come
+on for us, and then take her up as we go back."
+
+"The Laurels? Oh, just a few minutes off. Mary--she's the eldest. When
+does he come? Eleven o'clock! No time to waste. We must put on our new
+frocks. You had better tell Grannie at once that we are going. I shall
+keep out of her way. You'll manage her best."
+
+"But if she doesn't like to be left?"
+
+"Then she'll have to do without the liking! Yes, I know what you mean,
+Joan. You want me to stay here, and set you free. And I'm not going to
+do it. I simply won't--won't--won't! It's no earthly use your trying to
+make me. I'm asked too, and I mean to go."
+
+"Mittie, you've not seen the note yet. I think you ought to read it. She
+asks me first--and then she just says, would I like to bring----?"
+
+"It doesn't matter, and I don't want to see! It's enough that I'm
+invited." Mittie had a quick temper, apt to flare out suddenly. She
+jumped up, and flounced towards the door. "I shall get ready; and you'd
+better make haste, or you'll be late."
+
+"And if I find that I can't be spared as well as you?"
+
+Joan's eyes went to Mittie, with a look of grieved appeal. That look
+went home; and for a moment--only one moment--Mittie wavered. She knew
+how much more this meant to Joan than it could mean to herself. She knew
+that she had no right to put herself first, to snatch the joy from Joan.
+But the habit of self-indulgence was too strong.
+
+[Sidenote: "It is all Nonsense!"]
+
+"If you choose to stay at home, I shall go without you. It is all
+nonsense about 'can't'! You can go if you like."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Joan remained alone, thinking.
+
+What could she say? Mittie, the spoilt younger sister, always had had
+her own way, and always insisted on having it. She would insist now, and
+would have it, as usual.
+
+That Mittie would go was indeed a foregone conclusion, and Joan had
+known it from the first. The question was--could she go too? Would it be
+right to leave the old lady, depressed and suffering, all those
+hours--just for her own pleasure, even though it meant much more than
+mere pleasure?
+
+The girls owed a great deal to Mrs. Wills. She was not rich, though she
+had a comfortable little home; and when she took in the two
+granddaughters, it meant a heavy pull on her purse. It meant, also,
+parting with a valued companion--a paid companion--whom she had had for
+years, and on whom she very much depended. This necessary step was
+taken, with the understanding that the two girls would do all in their
+power to supply her place. And Joan had done her best. Mittie seldom
+gave any thought to the matter.
+
+In a general way, Joan would at once have agreed that Mittie should be
+the one to go, that she herself would be the one to stay behind.
+
+But this was no ordinary case. In the summer before she had seen a good
+deal of Fred Ferris. He had been at home for three months after an
+accident, which, for the time, disabled him from work; and he had been
+unmistakably attracted by Joan. Not only had he made many an opportunity
+to see her, but his mother had taken pains to bring the two together.
+She liked Joan, and made no secret of the fact. Mittie had often been
+left out of these arrangements, and had resented it.
+
+For a good while Fred Ferris had been away from home; but Joan knew that
+he was likely to come soon, and she built upon the hope. She had given
+her heart to Fred, and she indulged in many a secret dream for the
+future while pursuing her little round of daily duties, and bearing
+patiently with the spoilt and wayward Mittie.
+
+And now--this had come!--this intimation of Fred's arrival, and the
+chance of a long delightful day with him--a day on which so much might
+hang!
+
+And yet, if Mittie insisted on going, it would probably mean that she
+would have to give it up. That would be hard to bear--all the harder
+because Mittie knew at least something of the true state of affairs. She
+knew how persistently Fred Ferris had come after her sister, and she
+must at least conjecture a little of what her sister felt for Fred.
+Nobody knew all that Joan felt, except Joan herself; but Mittie had seen
+quite enough to have made her act kindly and unselfishly.
+
+Joan's hopes had grown faint when she left the breakfast-table and went
+upstairs.
+
+Mrs. Wills spent most of her time in her bedroom, sometimes hobbling
+across to a small sitting-room on the same floor. She was too infirm to
+come downstairs.
+
+"Eh? What is it? I don't understand!"
+
+The old lady was growing deaf, and when she objected to what was being
+said, she would become doubly deaf. Like her younger granddaughter, she
+had always been accustomed to getting her own way.
+
+[Sidenote: "Your Turn now!"]
+
+"You want to do--what?" as Joan tried to explain. "I wish you would
+speak more clearly, my dear, and not put your lips together when you
+talk. Mrs. Ferris! Yes, of course I know Mrs. Ferris. I knew her long
+before _you_ came here. She wants you for the day? Well, one of you can
+go, and the other must stay with me. You've got to take turns. That is
+only reasonable. Mittie went last time, so it is your turn now."
+
+But Mittie never cared about turns.
+
+"I suppose you couldn't for once--just once, Grannie, dear--spare us
+both together?"
+
+Joan said this with such a sinking of heart that, had the old lady known
+it, she would surely have yielded. A sick fear had come over the girl
+lest Fred might think that she was staying away on purpose--because she
+did not want to see him. But she only looked rather white, and smiled as
+usual.
+
+"Spare you both! What!--leave me alone the whole day, both of you!" The
+old lady was scandalised. "I didn't think before that you were a selfish
+girl, Joan. Well, well, never mind!--you're not generally, I know. But
+of course it is out of the question, so lame as I am--not able to get
+anything that I want. That wasn't in the bargain at all, when we settled
+that you should live with me."
+
+Joan knew that it was not. But it was very hard to bear!
+
+She went to Mittie, and made one more attempt in that direction, ending,
+as she expected, unsuccessfully.
+
+"It really is my turn, you know, Mittie, dear."
+
+"Your turn? What! because I went to that silly tea last week? As if the
+two things could be compared!"
+
+Mittie ran to the glass to inspect herself.
+
+"Why didn't you just tell Grannie that you meant to do it, instead of
+asking whether she could spare you? So absurd! She would have given in
+then."
+
+Joan might have answered, "Because I have some sense of duty!" But she
+said nothing--it was so useless.
+
+She debated whether to write a note for Mittie to take, and then decided
+that she would run down to the river-edge and would explain to Fred
+Ferris himself why she might not go, not implying any blame to her
+sister, but just saying that she could not leave her grandmother.
+
+The thought of this cheered her up, for surely he would understand.
+
+But a few minutes before the time fixed for his arrival a message
+summoned her to the old lady, and she found that for a good half-hour
+she would be unable to get away. All she could do was to rush to Mittie
+and to give a hurried message--which she felt far from certain would be
+correctly delivered.
+
+Then for a moment she stood outside Mrs. Wills's room, choking back the
+sobs which swelled in her throat, and feeling very sad and hopeless at
+the thought of all she would miss, still more at the thought that her
+absence might be misunderstood.
+
+From the window, as she attended to her grandmother's wants, she had a
+glimpse of Mittie, running gaily down the garden, in her pretty white
+frock, carrying an open Japanese parasol in one hand, while from the
+other dangled her hat and a small basket of flowers.
+
+"Oh, Mittie, I wouldn't have done it to you--if you had cared as I do!"
+she breathed.
+
+When Mittie reached the stream, Ferris had that moment arrived.
+
+He had made fast the painter, intending to run up to the house, and had
+stepped back into the boat to put the cushions right.
+
+A straight well-built young fellow, he looked eagerly up at the sound of
+steps; and when Mittie appeared alone, a momentary look of surprise
+came. But, of course Joan would follow!
+
+Mittie wore her prettiest expression. She dropped her hat into the boat,
+and he took her parasol, holding out a hand to help, as she evidently
+meant to occupy her seat without delay.
+
+[Illustration: "YOUR SISTER IS COMING?" HE SAID.]
+
+[Sidenote: "Your Sister is Coming?"]
+
+"Your sister is coming?" he said.
+
+"She doesn't like to leave Grannie. So you'll have to do with me alone,"
+smiled Mittie. "Such a pity, this splendid day! I did my best to
+persuade her--but she wouldn't be persuaded."
+
+There was an abrupt pause. Even Mittie's self-complacency could not veil
+from her his changed face, his blank disappointment.
+
+In that moment she very fully realised the truth that Joan, and not
+herself, was the one really wanted. But she smiled on resolutely,
+careless of what Fred might think about Joan's motives, and bent on
+making a good impression.
+
+"It's the first time I've been to your house--oh, for months and months!
+I'm _so_ looking forward to a whole day there. And being rowed down the
+river is so awfully delightful. I did try my hardest to get Joan to
+come, too; but she simply wouldn't, and she asked me to explain."
+
+This only made matters worse. Fred could hardly avoid believing that
+Joan's absence was due to a wish to avoid him. In Mittie's mind lay a
+scarcely acknowledged fear that, if she were more explicit, Fred might
+insist on seeing Joan; and, in that event, that she might herself be in
+the end the one left behind. She was determined to have her day of fun.
+
+Ferris had grown suddenly grave. He made Mittie comfortable in her seat,
+cast loose, and took the oars; but he seemed to have little to say.
+
+Almost in complete silence they went to The Laurels. Mittie's repeated
+attempts at conversation died, each in succession, a natural death.
+
+When Mary Ferris appeared, surprise was again shown at the sight of
+Mittie alone. Mary Ferris did not take it so quietly as her brother had
+done. She was naturally blunt, and she put one or two awkward questions
+which Mittie found it not easy to evade.
+
+The hour on that lovely river, to which she had looked forward as
+delightful, proved dull.
+
+Fred Ferris had nothing to say; he could not get over this seeming snub
+from Joan. He attended silently to his oars, and somehow Mittie had not
+courage to suggest that she would very much like to handle one of them.
+Mary was politely kind, and talked in an intermittent fashion; but the
+"fun" on which Mittie had counted was non-existent.
+
+When they reached the landing-place and stepped out Mrs. Ferris stood on
+the bank, awaiting them. And Mrs. Ferris, though able, when she chose,
+to make herself extremely charming, was a very outspoken lady.
+
+There was no mistake about her astonishment. Her eyebrows went up, and
+her eyes ran questioningly over the white-frocked figure.
+
+"What, only Mittie! How is this? Where is Joan?"
+
+Mittie felt rather small, but she was not going to admit that she had
+been in the wrong.
+
+"Joan wouldn't come," she said, smiling.
+
+"Is she not well?"
+
+"Oh yes; quite well. I did try to persuade her--but she wouldn't."
+
+The mother and daughter exchanged glances. Fred was already walking
+away, and Mary remarked:
+
+"Joan always thinks first of other people. I dare say she felt that she
+could not leave Mrs. Wills."
+
+Mittie, conscious of implied blame, grew pink and eager to defend
+herself.
+
+"She could have come--perfectly well! There wasn't the _least_ reason
+why she shouldn't. Grannie was all right. Joan simply--simply wouldn't!"
+Mittie stopped, knowing that she had conveyed a false impression, but
+pride withheld her from modifying the words. "I told her she might--just
+as well."
+
+Mrs. Ferris began to move towards the house. "It is a great pity," she
+said. "We all counted on having Joan. However, it cannot be helped now.
+I hope you will enjoy yourself, my dear. Mary will show you over the
+garden and the house."
+
+To Mary she added: "The old castle must wait for another time, I
+think--when Joan is here."
+
+Mittie cast a questioning look, and Mary said, in explanation: "Only an
+old ruin a few miles off. We meant to have an excursion there this
+afternoon."
+
+Mittie loved excursions, and could not resist saying so. No notice was
+taken of this appeal; but somewhat later she overheard a murmured remark
+from Mrs. Ferris to Mary.
+
+[Sidenote: "Certainly not--now!"]
+
+"No, certainly not--now. Fred will not care to go. He is very much
+disappointed, poor boy! If only one could be sure that it means
+nothing!" But Mittie was not meant to hear this.
+
+They were very kind to her, and she really had nothing to complain of on
+the score of inattention. Mary, who happened to be the only daughter at
+home, took her in charge and put her through a steady course of gardens,
+glasshouses, family pets, and old furniture--for none of which Mittie
+cared a rap. What she had wanted was a gay young party, plenty of fun
+and merriment, and for herself abundance of admiration.
+
+But Fred made himself scarce, only appearing at luncheon and vanishing
+afterwards; and Mrs. Ferris was occupied elsewhere most of the time;
+while between Mary and herself there was absolutely nothing in common.
+Mary, though only the senior by two or three years, was not only
+clever, but very intelligent and well read, and she had plenty of
+conversation. But the subjects for which she cared, though they would
+have delighted Joan, were utter tedium to Mittie's empty little head.
+
+Before an hour had passed, Mary's boredom was only less pronounced than
+Mittie's own.
+
+It was so tiresome, so stupid of Joan not to come! Mittie complained
+bitterly to herself of this. If Joan had come too, all would have gone
+well. She could not help seeing that she had not been meant to come
+without Joan, still less instead of Joan.
+
+With all her assurance, this realisation that she was not wanted and
+that everybody was regretting Joan's absence made her horribly
+uncomfortable.
+
+When left alone for a few minutes, early in the afternoon, she tugged
+angrily at her gloves, and muttered: "I wish I wasn't here. I wish I had
+left it to Joan. I think they are all most awfully frumpish and stupid,
+and I can't imagine what makes Joan so fond of them!"
+
+But she did not yet blame herself.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Five o'clock was the time fixed for return. Had Joan come it would have
+been much later.
+
+At tea-time Fred turned up, and it appeared that he meant to get off the
+return-row up the river. He had engaged a boatman to do it in his stead.
+Mary would still go, and though Mittie proudly said it did not matter,
+she wouldn't in the least mind being alone, Mary only smiled and held to
+her intention.
+
+But long before this stage of proceedings everybody was tired--Mary and
+Mittie especially, the one of entertaining, the other of being
+entertained.
+
+Mary had tried every imaginable thing she could think of to amuse the
+young guest, and every possible subject for talk. They seemed to have
+arrived at the end of everything, and it took all Mittie's energies to
+keep down, in a measure, her recurring yawns. Mary did her best, but
+she found Mittie far from interesting.
+
+When at length they started for the riverside, Fred went with the two
+girls to see them off; and Mittie felt like a prisoner about to be
+released.
+
+She was so eager to escape that she ran ahead of her companions towards
+the landing-place, and Mary dryly remarked in an undertone: "Mittie has
+had about enough of us, I think. How different she is from Joan! One
+would hardly take them for sisters."
+
+Fred was too downhearted to answer. He had felt all day terribly
+hopeless.
+
+Suddenly he started forward. "I say!--wait a moment!" he called.
+
+A slight turn had brought them in full view of the small boat floating
+close under the bank, roped loosely to the shore, and of Mittie standing
+above, poised as for a spring. She was light and active, and fond of
+jumping. At the moment of Fred's shout she was in the very act. No
+boatman was within sight.
+
+Perhaps the abrupt call startled her; perhaps in any case she would have
+miscalculated her distance. She was very self-confident, and had had
+little to do with boating.
+
+[Sidenote: An Upset]
+
+One way or another, instead of alighting neatly in the boat, as she
+meant to do, she came with both feet upon the gunwale and capsized the
+craft.
+
+There was a loud terrified shriek, a great splash, and Mittie had
+disappeared.
+
+"Fred! Fred!" screamed Mary.
+
+Fred cleared the space in a few leaps, and was down the bank by the time
+that Mittie rose, some yards off, floating down the stream, with hands
+flung wildly out. Another leap carried him into the water.
+
+He had thrown off his coat as he rushed to the rescue; and soon he had
+her in his grip, holding her off as she frantically clutched at him, and
+paddling back with one hand.
+
+He was obliged to land lower down, and Mary was there before him.
+Between them they pulled Mittie out, a wet, frightened, miserable
+object, her breath in helpless gasps and sobs, and one cheek bleeding
+freely from striking the rowlock.
+
+"Oh, Mittie! why did you do it?" Mary asked in distress--a rather
+inopportune question in the circumstances. "We must get her home at
+once, Fred, and put her to bed."
+
+They had almost to carry her up the bank, for all the starch and
+confidence were gone out of her; and she was supremely ashamed, besides
+being overwhelmed with the fright and the shock.
+
+On reaching the house Fred went off to change his own soaking garments,
+and Mittie was promptly put to bed, with a hot bottle at her feet and a
+hot drink to counteract the effects of the chill.
+
+She submitted with unwonted meekness; but her one cry was for her
+sister.
+
+"I want Joan! Oh, do fetch Joan!" she entreated. "My face hurts so
+awfully; and I feel so bad all over. I know I'm going to die! Oh, please
+send for Joan!"
+
+"I don't think there is the smallest probability of that, my dear," Mrs.
+Ferris said, with rather dry composure, as she sat by the bed. "If Fred
+had not been at hand you would have been in danger, certainly. But, as
+things are, it is simply a matter of keeping you warm for a few hours.
+Your face will be painful, I am afraid, for some days; but happily it is
+only a bad bruise."
+
+"I thought I could manage the jump so nicely," sighed Mittie.
+
+"It was a pity you tried. Now, Mittie, I am going to ask you a question,
+and I want a clear answer. Will you tell me frankly--did Joan _wish_ to
+stay at home to-day, and to send you in her stead?"
+
+Mittie was so subdued that she had no spirit for a fight. "No," came in
+a whisper. "I--she--she wanted awfully to come. And I--wouldn't stay at
+home. And Grannie didn't like to spare us both."
+
+"Ah, I see!" Mrs. Ferris laid a kind hand on Mittie. "I am glad you have
+told me; and you are sorry now, of course. That will make all the
+difference. Now I am going to send Fred to tell your sister what has
+happened, and to say that you will be here till to-morrow."
+
+"Couldn't he bring Joan? I do want her so!"
+
+"I'm not sure that that will be possible."
+
+But to Fred, when retailing what had passed, she added: "You had better
+motor over. And if you can persuade Joan to come, so much the better--to
+sleep, if possible; if not, we can send her home later."
+
+Fred was off like a shot. The motor run was a very short affair compared
+with going by boat. On arrival, he found the front door of Mrs. Wills's
+house open; and he caught a glimpse of a brown head within the
+bow-window of the breakfast-room.
+
+If he could only find Joan alone! He ventured to walk in without
+ringing.
+
+Alone, indeed, Joan was, trying to darn a pair of stockings, and finding
+the task difficult. It had been such a long, long day--longer even for
+her than for Mittie.
+
+[Sidenote: "Fred!"]
+
+"Come in," she said, in answer to a light tap. And the last face that
+she expected to see appeared. "_Fred!_" broke from her. "Mr. Ferris!"
+
+"No, please--I like 'Fred' best!" He came close, noting with joy how her
+face had in an instant parted with its gravity. "Why did you not come to
+us to-day?" he asked earnestly.
+
+"I couldn't."
+
+"Not--because you wanted to stay away?"
+
+"Oh no!"
+
+"Could not your sister have been the one at home?"
+
+Joan spoke gently. "You see, Mittie has never before spent a day at your
+house. She wanted it so much."
+
+"And you--did you want it, too--ever so little? Would you have cared to
+come, Joan?"
+
+Joan only smiled. She felt happy beyond words.
+
+"I've got to take you there now, if you'll come. For the night,
+perhaps--or at least for the evening. Mittie has had a wetting"--he
+called the younger girl by her name half-unconsciously--"and they have
+put her to bed for fear of a chill. And she wants you."
+
+Naturally Joan was a good deal concerned, though Fred made little of the
+accident. He explained more fully, and an appeal to the old lady brought
+permission.
+
+"Not for the night, child--I can't spare you for that, but for the
+evening. Silly little goose Mittie is!"
+
+And Fred, with delight, carried Joan off.
+
+"So Mrs. Wills can't do without you, even for one night," he said, when
+they were spinning along the high road, he and she behind and the
+chauffeur in front. He laughed, and bent to look into her eyes. "Joan,
+what is to happen when she _has_ to do without you altogether?"
+
+"Oh, I suppose--she might manage as she used to do before we came." Joan
+said this involuntarily; and then she understood. Her colour went up.
+
+"I don't think _I_ can manage very much longer without you--my Joan!"
+murmured Fred. "If you'll have me, darling."
+
+And she only said, "Oh, Fred!"
+
+But he understood.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Here is a story of an out-of-the-way Christmas entertainment
+got up for a girl's pleasure.]
+
+A Christmas with Australian Blacks
+
+BY
+
+J. S. PONDER
+
+
+"I say, Dora, can't we get up some special excitement for sister Maggie,
+seeing she is to be here for Christmas? I fancy she will, in her home
+inexperience, expect a rather jolly time spending Christmas in this
+forsaken spot. I am afraid that my letters home, in which I coloured
+things up a bit, are to blame for that," my husband added ruefully.
+
+"What can we do, Jack?" I asked. "I can invite the Dunbars, the Connors
+and the Sutherlands over for a dance, and you can arrange for a
+kangaroo-hunt the following day. That is the usual thing when special
+visitors come, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes," he moodily replied, "that about exhausts our programme. Nothing
+very exciting in that. I say, how would it do to take the fangs out of a
+couple of black snakes and put them in her bedroom, so as to give her
+the material of a thrilling adventure to narrate when she goes back to
+England?"
+
+"That would never do," I protested, "you might frighten her out of her
+wits. Remember she is not strong, and spare her everything except very
+innocent adventures. Besides, snakes are such loathsome beasts."
+
+"How would it do, then, to give a big Christmas feast to the blacks?" he
+hazarded.
+
+"Do you think she would like that?" I asked doubtfully. "Remember how
+awfully dirty and savage-looking they are."
+
+"Oh, we would try and get them to clean up a bit, and come somewhat
+presentable," he cheerfully replied. "And, Dora," he continued, "I think
+the idea is a good one. Sister Maggie is the Hon. Secretary or something
+of the Missionary Society connected with her Church, and in the thick of
+all the 'soup and blanket clubs' of the district. She will just revel at
+the chance of administering to the needs of genuine savages."
+
+"If you think so, you had better try and get the feast up," I resignedly
+replied; "but I do wish our savages were a little less filthy."
+
+Such was the origin of our Christmas feast to the blacks last year, of
+which I am about to tell you.
+
+My husband, John MacKenzie, was the manager and part proprietor of a
+large sheep-station in the Murchison district of Western Australia, and
+sister Maggie was his favourite sister. A severe attack of pneumonia had
+left her so weak that the doctors advised a sea voyage to Australia, to
+recuperate her strength--a proposition which she hailed with delight, as
+it would give her the opportunity of seeing her brother in his West
+Australian home. My husband, of course, was delighted at the prospect of
+seeing her again, while I too welcomed the idea of meeting my Scottish
+sister-in-law, with whom I had much charming correspondence, but had
+never met face to face.
+
+As the above conversation shows, my husband's chief care was to make his
+sister's visit bright and enjoyable--no easy task in the lonely
+back-blocks where our station was, and where the dreary loneliness and
+deadly monotony of the West Australian bush reaches its climax. Miles
+upon miles of uninteresting plains, covered with the usual gums and
+undergrowth, surrounded us on all sides; beautiful, indeed, in early
+spring, when the wealth of West Australian wild flowers--unsurpassed for
+loveliness by those of any other country--enriched the land, but at
+other times painfully unattractive and monotonous.
+
+Except kangaroos, snakes, and lizards, animal life was a-wanting. Bird
+and insect life, too, was hardly to be seen, and owing to the absence of
+rivers and lakes, aquatic life was unknown.
+
+The silent loneliness of the bush is so oppressive and depressing that
+men new to such conditions have gone mad under it when living alone, and
+others almost lose their power of intelligent speech.
+
+Such were hardly the most cheerful surroundings for a young convalescent
+girl, and so I fully shared Jack's anxiety as to how to provide healthy
+excitement during his sister's stay.
+
+Preparations for the blacks' Christmas feast were at once proceeded
+with. A camp of aboriginals living by a small lakelet eighteen miles off
+was visited, and the natives there were informed of a great feast that
+was to be given thirty days later, and were told to tell other blacks to
+come too, with their wives and piccaninnies.
+
+[Sidenote: A large order]
+
+Orders were sent to the nearest town, fifty-three miles off, for six
+cases of oranges, a gross of gingerbeer, and all the dolls, penknives
+and tin trumpets in stock; also (for Jack got wildly extravagant over
+his project) for fifty cotton shirts, and as many pink dresses of the
+readymade kind that are sold in Australian stores. These all came about
+a fortnight before Christmas, and at the same time our expected visitor
+arrived.
+
+She at once got wildly enthusiastic when my husband told her of his
+plan, and threw herself into the preparations with refreshing energy.
+
+She and I, and the native servants we had, toiled early and late,
+working like galley-slaves making bread-stuffs for the feast. Knowing
+whom I had to provide for, I confined myself to making that Australian
+standby--damper, and simple cakes, but Maggie produced a wonderfully
+elaborate and rich bun for their delectation, which she called a
+"Selkirk bannock," and which I privately thought far too good for them.
+
+Well, the day came. Such a Christmas as you can only see and feel in
+Australia; the sky cloudless, the atmosphere breezeless, the temperature
+one hundred and seven degrees in the shade. With it came the aboriginals
+in great number, accompanied, as they always are, by crowds of
+repulsive-looking mongrel dogs.
+
+Maggie was greatly excited, and not a little indignant, at seeing many
+of the gins carrying their dogs in their arms, and letting their infants
+toddle along on trembling legs hardly strong enough to support their
+little bodies, and much astonished when, on her proposing to send all
+their dogs away, I told her that this would result in the failure of the
+intended feast, as they would sooner forsake their children than their
+mongrels, and if the dogs were driven away, every native would
+indignantly accompany them.
+
+Maggie, with a sigh and a curious look on her face that told of the
+disillusioning of sundry preconceived English ideas regarding the noble
+savages, turned to look at Jack, and her lips soon twitched with
+merriment as she listened to him masterfully arranging the day's
+campaign.
+
+[Sidenote: A Magnificent Bribe]
+
+Marshalling the blacks before him like a company of soldiers--the women,
+thanks to my prudent instructions, being more or less decently dressed,
+the men considerably less decently, and the younger children of both
+sexes being elegantly clad in Nature's undress uniform--Jack vigorously
+addressed his listeners thus: "Big feast made ready for plenty
+black-fellow to-day, but black-fellow must make clean himself before
+feast." (Grunts of disapprobation from the men, and a perfect babel of
+angry protestation from the women here interrupted the speaker, who
+proceeded, oblivious of the disapproval of his audience.) "Black-fellow
+all come with me for washee; lubras and piccaninnies (_i.e._, women and
+children) all go with white women for washee." (Continued grumbles of
+discontent.) "Clean black-fellow," continued Jack, "get new shirtee,
+clean lubra new gowna." Then, seeing that even this magnificent bribe
+failed to reconcile the natives to the idea of soap and water, Jack, to
+the amusement of Maggie and myself, settled matters by shouting out the
+ultimatum: "No washee--no shirtee, no shirtee--no feastee," and stalked
+away, followed submissively by the aboriginal lords of creation.
+
+The men, indeed, and, in a lesser degree, the children, showed
+themselves amenable to reason that day, and were not wanting in
+gratitude; but in spite of Maggie's care and mine, the gins (the gentler
+sex) worthily deserved the expressive description: "Manners none,
+customs beastly."
+
+They were repulsive and dirty in the extreme. They gloried in their
+dirt, and clung to it with a closer affection than they did to womanly
+modesty--this last virtue was unknown.
+
+We, on civilising thoughts intent, had provided a number of large tubs
+and soap, and brushes galore for the Augean task, but though we got the
+women to the water, we were helpless to make them clean.
+
+Their declaration of independence was out at once--"Is thy servant a dog
+that I should do this thing?" Wash and be clean! Why, it was contrary to
+all the time-honoured filthy habits of the noble self-respecting race of
+Australian gins, and "they would have none of it." At last, in despair,
+and largely humiliated at the way in which savage womanhood had worsted
+civilised, Maggie and I betook ourselves to the long tables where the
+feast was being spread, and waited the arrival of the leader of the
+other sex, whose success, evidenced by sounds coming from afar, made me
+seriously doubt my right to be called his "better half."
+
+After a final appeal to my hard-hearted lord and master to be spared the
+indignity of the wash-tub, the native men had bowed to the inevitable.
+
+Each man heroically lent himself to the task, and diligently helped his
+neighbours to reach the required standard of excellence.
+
+Finally all save one stubborn aboriginal protestant emerged from the
+tub, like the immortal Tom Sawyer, "a man and a brother."
+
+Well, the feast was a great success. The corned and tinned meat,
+oranges, tomatoes, cakes and gingerbeer provided were largely consumed.
+The eatables, indeed, met the approval of the savages, for, like Oliver
+Twist, they asked for "more," until we who served them got rather
+leg-weary, and began to doubt whether, when night came, we would be able
+to say with any heartiness we had had "a merry Christmas."
+
+Clad in their clean shirts, and with faces shining with soap-polish, the
+men looked rather well, despite their repulsive and generally villainous
+features. But the women, wrinkled, filthy, quarrelsome and disgusting,
+they might have stood for incarnations of the witch-hags in _Macbeth_;
+and as we watched them guzzling down the food, and then turning their
+upper garments into impromptu bags to carry off what remained, it is
+hard to say whether the feeling of pity or disgust they raised was the
+stronger.
+
+After the feast, Jack, for Maggie's entertainment, tried to get up the
+blacks to engage in a corroboree, and give an exhibition of boomerang
+and spear-throwing; but the inner man had been too largely satisfied,
+and they declined violent exertion, so the toys were distributed and our
+guests dismissed.
+
+When she and I were dressing that evening for our own Christmas dinner,
+Maggie kept talking all the time of the strange experience she had
+passed through that day.
+
+[Sidenote: A Striking Picture]
+
+"I'll never forget it," she said. "Savages are so different from our
+English ideas of them. Did you notice the dogs? I counted nineteen go
+off with the first native that left. And the women! Weren't they
+horrors? I don't think I'll ever feel pride in my sex again. But above
+all, I'll never forget the way in which Jack drove from the table that
+native who hadn't a clean shirt on. It was a picture of Christ's parable
+of the 'Marriage Feast,'" she added softly.
+
+Before I could reply the gong, strengthened by Jack's imperative "Hurry
+up, I'm starving," summoned us to dinner.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A story of Sedgemoor times and of a woman who was both a
+saint and a heroine.]
+
+My Mistress Elizabeth
+
+BY
+
+ANNIE ARMITT
+
+
+I committed a great folly when I was young and ignorant; for I left my
+father's house and hid myself in London only that I might escape the
+match he desired to make for me. I knew nothing at that time of the
+dangers and sorrows of those who live in the world and are mixed in its
+affairs.
+
+Yet it was a time of public peril, and not a few who dwelt in the quiet
+corners of the earth found themselves embroiled suddenly in great
+matters of state. For when the Duke of Monmouth landed in Dorsetshire it
+was not the dwellers in great cities or the intriguers of the Court that
+followed him chiefly to their undoing; it was the peasant who left his
+plough and the cloth-worker his loom. Men who could neither read nor
+write were caught up by the cry of a Protestant leader, and went after
+him to their ruin.
+
+The prince to whose standard they flocked was, for all his sweet and
+taking manners, but a profligate at best; he had no true religion in his
+heart--nothing but a desire, indeed, for his own aggrandisement,
+whatever he might say to the unhappy maid that handed a Bible to him at
+Taunton. But of this the people were ignorant, and so it came to pass
+that they were led to destruction in a fruitless cause.
+
+[Sidenote: French Leave]
+
+But there were, besides the men that died nobly in a mistaken struggle
+for religious freedom, others that joined the army from mean and ignoble
+motives, and others again that had not the courage to go through with
+that which they had begun, but turned coward and traitor at the last.
+
+Of one of them I am now to write, and I will say of him no more evil
+than must be.
+
+How I, that had fled away from the part of the country where this
+trouble was, before its beginning, became mixed in it was strange
+enough.
+
+I had, as I said, run away to escape from the match that my father
+proposed for me; and yet it was not from any dislike of Tom Windham, the
+neighbour's son with whom I was to have mated, that I did this; but
+chiefly from a dislike that I had to settle in the place where I had
+been bred; for I thought myself weary of a country life and the little
+town whither we went to market; and I desired to see somewhat of life in
+a great city and the gaiety stirring there.
+
+There dwelt in London a cousin of my mother, whose husband was a mercer,
+and who had visited us a year before--when she was newly married--and
+pressed me to go back with her.
+
+"La!" she had said to me, "I know not how you endure this life, where
+there is nothing to do but to listen for the grass growing and the
+flowers opening. 'Twould drive me mad in a month."
+
+Then she told me of the joyous racket of a great city, and the gay shows
+and merry sports to be had there. But my father would not permit me to
+go with her.
+
+However, I resolved to ask no leave when the question of my marriage
+came on; and so, without more ado, I slipped away by the first occasion
+that came, when my friends were least suspecting it, and, leaving only
+a message writ on paper to bid them have no uneasiness, for I knew how
+to take care of myself, I contrived, after sundry adventures, to reach
+London.
+
+I arrived at an ill time, for there was sickness in the house of my
+cousin Alstree. However, she made me welcome as well as might be, and
+wrote to my father suddenly of my whereabouts. My father being sore
+displeased at the step I had taken, sent me word by the next messenger
+that came that way that I might even stay where I had put myself.
+
+So now I had all my desire, and should have been content; but matters
+did not turn out as I had expected. There might be much gaiety in the
+town; but I saw little of it. My cousin was occupied with her own
+concerns, having now a sickly baby to turn her mind from thoughts of her
+own diversion; her husband was a sour-tempered man; and the prentices
+that were in the house were ill-mannered and ill-bred.
+
+[Illustration: GALLANTS LOUNGING IN THE PARK.]
+
+There was in truth a Court no farther away than Whitehall. I saw
+gallants lounging and talking together in the Park, games on the Mall,
+and soldiers and horses in the streets and squares; but none of these
+had any concern with me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The news of the Duke's landing was brought to London while I was still
+at my cousin's, but it made the less stir in her household because of
+the sickness there; and presently a new and grievous trouble fell upon
+us. My cousin Alstree was stricken with the small-pox, and in five days
+she and her baby were both dead. The house seemed no longer a fit place
+for me, and her husband was as one distracted; yet I had nowhere else to
+go to.
+
+It was then that a woman whom I had seen before and liked little came to
+my assistance. Her name was Elizabeth Gaunt.
+
+She was an Anabaptist and, as I thought, fanatical. She spent her life
+in good works, and cared nothing for dress, or food, or pleasure. Her
+manner to me had been stern, and I thought her poor and of no account;
+for what money she had was given mostly to others. But when she knew of
+my trouble she offered me a place in her house, bargaining only that I
+should help her in the work of it.
+
+"My maid that I had has left me to be married," she said; "'twould be
+waste to hire another while you sit idle."
+
+I was in too evil a plight to be particular, so that I went with her
+willingly. And this I must confess, that the tasks she set me were
+irksome enough, but yet I was happier with her than I had been with my
+cousin Alstree, for I had the less time for evil and regretful thoughts.
+
+Now it befell that one night, when we were alone together, there came a
+knocking at the house door.
+
+[Sidenote: A Strange Visitor]
+
+I went to open it, and found a tall man standing on the threshold. I was
+used to those that came to seek charity, who were mostly women or
+children, the poor, the sick, or the old. But this man, as I saw by the
+light I carried with me, was sturdy and well built; moreover, the cloak
+that was wrapped about him was neither ragged or ill-made, only the hat
+that he had upon his head was crushed in the brim.
+
+He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, and this frightened me
+somewhat, for we were two lone women, and the terror of my country
+breeding clung to me. There was, it is true, nothing in the house worth
+stealing, but yet a stranger might not know this.
+
+"Doth Mrs. Gaunt still live in this house?" he asked. "Is she not a
+woman that is very, charitable and ready to help those that are in
+trouble?"
+
+I looked at him, wondering what his trouble might be, for he seemed
+well-to-do and comfortable, except for the hat-brim. Yet he spoke with
+urgency, and it flashed upon me that his need might not be for himself,
+but another.
+
+I was about to answer him when he, whose eye had left me to wander round
+the narrow passage where we were, caught sight of a rim of light under a
+doorway.
+
+"Is she in that chamber, and alone? What, then, are you afraid of?" he
+asked, with impatience. "Do you think I would hurt a good creature like
+that?"
+
+"You would be a cruel wretch, indeed, to do it," I answered, plucking up
+a little spirit, "for she lives only to show kindness to others."
+
+"So I have been told. 'Tis the same woman," and without more ado he
+stalked past me to the door of her room, where she sat reading a Bible
+as her custom was; so he opened it and went in.
+
+I stood without in the passage, trembling still a little, and uncertain
+of his purpose, yet remembering his words and the horror he had shown at
+the thought of doing any hurt to my mistress. I said to myself that he
+could not be a wicked man, and that there was nothing to fear. But,
+well-a-day, well-a-day, we know not what is before us, nor the evil that
+we shall do before we die. Of a surety the man that I let in that night
+had no thought of what he should do; yet he came in the end to do it,
+and even to justify the doing of it.
+
+I waited outside, as I have said, and the sound of voices came to me. I
+thought to myself once, "Shall I go nearer and listen?" though it was
+only for my mistress's sake that I considered it, being no eavesdropper.
+But I did not go, and in so abstaining I was kept safe in the greatest
+danger I have been in throughout my life. For if I had heard and known,
+my fate might have been like hers; and should I have had the strength to
+endure it?
+
+In a little time the door opened and she came out alone. Her face was
+paler even than ordinary, and she gave a start on seeing me stand there.
+
+"Child," she said, "have you heard what passed between us on the other
+side of that door?"
+
+I answered that I had not heard a word; and then she beckoned me to
+follow her into the kitchen.
+
+When we were alone there I put down my candle on the deal table, and
+stood still while she looked at me searchingly. I could see that there
+was more in her manner than I understood.
+
+"Child," she said, "I have had to trust you before when I have given
+help to those in trouble, and you have not been wanting in discretion;
+yet you are but a child to trust."
+
+"If you tell me nothing I can repeat nothing," I answered proudly.
+
+"Yet you know something already. Can you keep silent entirely and under
+all circumstances as to what has happened since you opened the street
+door?"
+
+"It is not my custom to gabble about your affairs."
+
+"Will you seek to learn no more and to understand no more?"
+
+"I desire to know nothing of the affairs of others, if they do not
+choose to tell me of their own free will."
+
+She looked at me and sighed a little, at the which I marvelled somewhat,
+for it was ever her custom to trust in God and so to go forward without
+question.
+
+"You are young and ill prepared for trial, yet you have wandered
+alone--silly lassie that you are--into a wilderness of wolves."
+
+"There is trouble everywhere," I answered.
+
+"And danger too," she said; "but there is trouble that we seek for
+ourselves, and trouble that God sends to us. You will do well, when you
+are safe at home, to wander no more. Now go to bed and rest."
+
+"Shall I not get a meal for your guest?" I asked; for I was well aware
+that the man had not yet left the house.
+
+[Sidenote: "Ask no Questions!"]
+
+"Do my bidding and ask no questions," she said, more sternly than was
+her custom. So I took my candle and went away silently, she following me
+to my chamber. When I was there she bid me pray to God for all who were
+in danger and distress, then I heard that she turned the key upon me on
+the outside and went away.
+
+I undressed with some sullenness, being ill-content at the mistrust she
+showed; but presently she came to the chamber herself, and prayed long
+before she lay down beside me.
+
+And now a strange time followed. I saw no more of that visitor that had
+come to the house lately, nor knew at what time he went away, or if he
+had attained the end he sought. My mistress busied me mostly in the
+lower part of the house, and went out very little herself, keeping on me
+all the while a strict guard and surveillance beyond her wont.
+
+But at last a charitable call came to her, which she never refused; and
+so she left me alone, with instructions to remain between the kitchen
+and the street-door, and by no means to leave the house or to hold
+discourse with any that came, more than need be.
+
+I sat alone in the kitchen, fretting a little against her injunctions,
+and calling to mind the merry evenings in the parlour at home, where I
+had sported and gossiped with my comrades. I loved not solitude, and
+sighed to think that I had now nothing to listen to but the great clock
+against the wall, nothing to speak to but the cat that purred at my
+feet.
+
+I was, however, presently to have company that I little expected. For,
+as I sat with my seam in my hand, I heard a step upon the stairs; and
+yet I had let none into the house, but esteemed myself alone there.
+
+It came from above, where was an upper chamber, and a loft little used.
+
+My heart beat quickly, so that I was afraid to go out into the passage,
+for there I must meet that which descended, man or spirit as it might
+be. I heard the foot on the lowest stair, and then it turned towards the
+little closet where my mistress often sat alone at her devotions.
+
+While it lingered there I wondered whether I should rush out into the
+street, and seek the help and company of some neighbour. But I
+remembered Mrs. Gaunt's injunction; and, moreover, another thought
+restrained me. It was that of the man that I had let into the house and
+never seen again. It might well be that he had never left the place, and
+that I should be betraying a secret by calling in a stranger to look at
+him.
+
+So I stood trembling by the deal table until the step sounded again and
+came on to the kitchen.
+
+[Sidenote: The Man Again]
+
+The door opened, and a man stood there. It was the same whom I had seen
+before.
+
+He looked round quickly, and gave me a courteous greeting; his manner
+was, indeed, pleasant enough, and there was nothing in his look to set a
+maid trembling at the sight of him.
+
+"I am in luck," he said, "for I heard Mrs. Gaunt go out some time since,
+and I am sick of that upper chamber where she keeps me shut up."
+
+"If she keeps you shut up, sir," I said, his manner giving me back all
+my self-possession, "sure she has some very good reason."
+
+"Do you know her reason?" he asked with abruptness.
+
+"No, nor seek to know it, unless she chooses to tell me. I did not even
+guess that she had you in hiding."
+
+"Mrs. Gaunt is careful, but I can trust the lips that now reprove me.
+They were made for better things than betraying a friend. I would
+willingly have some good advice from them, seeing that they speak wise
+words so readily." And so saying he sat down on the settle, and looked
+at me smiling.
+
+I was offended, and with reason, at the freedom of his speech; yet, his
+manner, was so much beyond anything I had been accustomed to for ease
+and pleasantness, that I soon forgave him, and when he encouraged me,
+began to prattle about my affairs, being only, with all my conceit, the
+silly lassie my mistress had called me.
+
+I talked of my home and my own kindred, and the friends I had had--which
+things had now all the charm of remoteness for me--and he listened with
+interest, catching up the names of places, and even of persons, as if
+they were not altogether strange to him, and asking me further of them.
+
+"What could make you leave so happy a home for such a dungeon as this?"
+he asked, looking round.
+
+Then I hung my head, and reddened foolishly, but he gave a loud laugh
+and said, "I can well understand. There was some country lout that your
+father would have wedded you to. That is the way with the prettiest
+maidens."
+
+"Tom Windham was no country lout," I answered proudly; upon which he
+leaned forward and asked, "What name was that you said? Windham? and
+from Westover? Is he a tall fellow with straw-coloured hair and a cut
+over his left eye?"
+
+"He got it in a good cause," I answered swiftly; "have you seen him?"
+
+"Yes, lately. It is the same. Lucky fellow! I would I were in his place
+now." And he fell straightway into a moody taking, looking down as if he
+had forgotten me.
+
+"Sir, do you say so?" I stammered foolishly, "when--when----"
+
+"When you have run away from him? Not for that, little maid;" and he
+broke again into a laugh that had mischief in it. "But because when we
+last met he was in luck and I out of it, yet we guessed it not at the
+time."
+
+"I am glad he is doing well," I said proudly.
+
+"Then should you be sorry for me that am in trouble," he answered. "For
+I have no home now, nor am like to have, but must go beyond seas and
+begin a new life as best I may."
+
+"I am indeed sorry, for it is sad to be alone. If Mrs. Gaunt had not
+been kind to me----"
+
+[Sidenote: Interrupted]
+
+"And to me," he interrupted, "we should never have met. She is a good
+woman, your mistress Gaunt."
+
+"Yet, I have heard that beyond seas there are many diversions," I
+answered, to turn the talk from myself, seeing that he was minded to be
+too familiar.
+
+"For those that start with good company and pleasant companions. If I
+had a pleasant companion, one that would smile upon me with bright eyes
+when I was sad, and scold me with her pretty lips when I went
+astray--for there is nothing like a pretty Puritan for keeping a
+careless man straight."
+
+"Oh, sir!" I cried, starting to my feet as he put his hand across the
+deal table to mine; and then the door opened and Elizabeth Gaunt came
+in.
+
+"Sir," she said, "you have committed a breach of hospitality in entering
+a chamber to which I have never invited you. Will you go back to your
+own?"
+
+He bowed with a courteous apology and muttered something about the
+temptation being too great. Then he left us alone.
+
+"Child," she said to me, "has that man told you anything of his own
+affairs?"
+
+"Only that he is in trouble, and must fly beyond seas."
+
+"Pray God he may go quickly," she said devoutly. "I fear he is no man to
+be trusted."
+
+"Yet you help him," I answered.
+
+"I help many that I could not trust," she said with quietness; "they
+have the more need of help." And in truth I know that much of her good
+work was among those evil-doers that others shrank from.
+
+"This man seems strong enough to help himself," I said.
+
+"Would that he may go quickly," was all her answer. "If the means could
+but be found!"
+
+Then she spoke to me with great urgency, commanding me to hold no
+discourse with him nor with any concerning him.
+
+I did my best to fulfil her bidding, yet it was difficult; for he was a
+man who knew the world and how to take his own way in it. He contrived
+more than once to see me, and to pay a kind of court to me, half in jest
+and half in earnest; so that I was sometimes flattered and sometimes
+angered, and sometimes frighted.
+
+Then other circumstances happened unexpectedly, for I had a visitor that
+I had never looked to see there.
+
+I kept indoors altogether, fearing to be questioned by the neighbours;
+but on a certain afternoon there came a knocking, and when I went to
+open Tom Windham walked in.
+
+I gave a cry of joy, because the sight of an old friend was pleasant in
+that strange place, and it was not immediately that I could recover
+myself and ask what his business was.
+
+"I came to seek you," he said, "for I had occasion to leave my own part
+of the country for the present."
+
+[Illustration: "LOOKING AT HIM, I SAW THAT HE WAS HAGGARD AND STRANGE."]
+
+Looking at him, I saw that he was haggard and strange, and had not the
+confidence that was his formerly.
+
+"There has been a rising there," I answered him, "and trouble among
+many?"
+
+"Much trouble," he said with gloom. Then he fell to telling me how such
+of the neighbours were dead, and others were in hiding, while there were
+still more that went about their work in fear for their lives, lest any
+should inform against them.
+
+"Your father's brother was taken on Sedgemoor with a pike in his hand,"
+he added, "and your father has been busy ever since, raising money to
+buy his pardon--for they say that money can do much."
+
+"That is ill news, indeed," I said.
+
+"I have come to London on my own affairs, and been to seek you at your
+cousin Alstree's. When I learnt of the trouble that had befallen I
+followed you to this house, and right glad I am that you are safe with
+so good a woman as Mrs. Gaunt."
+
+"But why should you be in London when the whole countryside at home is
+in gaol or in mourning? Have you no friend to help? Did you sneak away
+to be out of it all?" I asked with the silly petulance of a maid that
+knows nothing and will say anything.
+
+"Yes," he said, hanging his head like one ashamed, "I sneaked away to be
+out of it all."
+
+It vexed me to see him so, and I went on in a manner that it pleased me
+little afterwards to remember. "You, that talked so of the Protestant
+cause! you, that were ready to fight against Popery! you were not one of
+those that marched for Bristol or fought at Sedgemoor?"
+
+"No," he said, "I did neither of these things."
+
+"Yet you have run away from the sight of your neighbours' trouble--lest,
+I suppose, you should anyways be involved in it. Well, 'twas a man's
+part!"
+
+He was about to answer me when we both started to hear a sound in the
+house. There was a foot on the stairs that I knew well. Tom turned aside
+and listened, for we had now withdrawn to the kitchen.
+
+"That is a man's tread," he said; "I thought you lived alone with Mrs.
+Elizabeth Gaunt."
+
+"Mrs. Gaunt spends her life in good works," I answered, "and shows
+kindness to others beside me."
+
+I raised my voice in hopes that the man might hear me and come no
+nearer, but the stupid fellow had waxed so confident that he came right
+in and stood amazed.
+
+[Sidenote: "You!"]
+
+"You!" he said; and Tom answered, "You!"
+
+So they stood and glared at one another.
+
+"I thought you were in a safe place," said Tom, swinging round to me.
+
+"She is in no danger from me," said the man.
+
+"Are you so foolish as to think so?" asked Tom.
+
+"If you keep your mouth shut she is in no danger," was the answer.
+
+"That may be," said Tom. Yet he turned to me and said, "You must come
+away from here."
+
+"I have nowhere to go to--and I will not leave Mrs. Gaunt."
+
+"I am myself going away," the man said.
+
+"How soon?"
+
+"To-night maybe; to-morrow night at farthest."
+
+"'Tis a great danger," said Tom, "and I thought you so safe." Again he
+spoke to me.
+
+"Is there danger from _you_?" the man asked.
+
+"Do you take me for a scoundrel?" was the wrathful reply.
+
+"A man will do much to keep his skin whole."
+
+"There are some things no man will do that is a man and no worse."
+
+"Truly you might have easily been in my place; and you would not inform
+against a comrade?"
+
+"I should be a black traitor to do it."
+
+Yet there was a blacker treachery possible, such as we none of us
+conceived the very nature of, not even the man that had the heart to
+harbour it afterwards.
+
+Tom would not leave me until Mrs. Gaunt came in, and then they had a
+private talk together. She begged him to come to the house no more at
+present, because of the suspicions that even so innocent a visitor might
+bring upon it at that time of public disquiet.
+
+"I shall contrive to get word to her father that he would do well to
+come and fetch her," he said, in my hearing, and she answered that he
+could not contrive a better thing.
+
+The man that, as I now understood, we had in hiding went out that night
+after it was dark, but he came back again; and he did so on the night
+that followed. Mrs. Gaunt, perceiving that she could not altogether keep
+him from my company, and that the hope of his safe departure grew less,
+began to show great uneasiness.
+
+"I see not how I am to get away," the man said gloomily when he found
+occasion for a word with me; "and the danger increases each day. Yet
+there is one way--one way."
+
+"Why not take it and go?" I asked lightly.
+
+"I may take it yet. A man has but one life." He spoke savagely and
+morosely; for his manner was now altered, and he paid me no more
+compliments.
+
+There came a night on which he went out and came back no more.
+
+"I trust in God," said Mrs. Gaunt, who used this word always in
+reverence and not lightly, "that he has made his escape and not fallen
+into the hands of his enemies."
+
+The house seemed lighter because he was gone, and we went about our work
+cheerfully. Later, when some strange men came to the door--as I, looking
+through an upper window, could see--Mrs. Gaunt opened to them smiling,
+for the place was now ready to be searched, and there was none to give
+any evidence who the man was that had lately hidden there.
+
+[Sidenote: Arrested]
+
+But there was no search. The men had come for Elizabeth Gaunt herself,
+and they told her, in my hearing, that she was accused of having given
+shelter to one of Monmouth's men, and the punishment of this crime was
+death.
+
+It did not seem to me at first possible that such a woman as Elizabeth
+Gaunt, that had never concerned herself with plots or politics, but
+spent her life wholly in good works, should be taken up as a public
+enemy and so treated only because she had given shelter to a man that
+had fled for his life. Yet this was, as I now learnt, the law. But there
+still seemed no possibility of any conviction, for who was there to give
+witness against her of the chief fact, namely, that she had known the
+man she sheltered to be one that had fought against the King? Her house
+was open always to those that were in trouble or danger, and no question
+asked. There were none of her neighbours that would have spied upon her,
+seeing that she had the reputation of a saint among them; and none to
+whom she had given her confidence. She had withheld it even from me, nor
+could I certainly say that she had the knowledge that was charged
+against her. For Windham was out of the way now--on my business, as I
+afterwards discovered; and if he had been nigh at hand he would have had
+more wisdom than to show himself at this juncture.
+
+When I was taken before the judge, and, terrified as I was, questioned
+with so much roughness that I suspected a desire to fright me further,
+so that I might say whatever they that questioned me desired, even then
+they could, happily, discover nothing that told against my mistress,
+because I knew nothing.
+
+In spite of all my confusion and distress, I uttered no word that could
+be used against Elizabeth Gaunt.
+
+I saw now her wise and kind care of me, in that she had not put me into
+the danger she was in herself. It seemed too that she must escape,
+seeing that there was none to give witness against her.
+
+And then the truth came out, that the villain himself, tempted by the
+offer of the King to pardon those rebels that should betray their
+entertainers, had gone of his own accord and bought his safety at the
+cost of her life that had sheltered and fed him.
+
+When the time came that he must give his evidence, the villain stepped
+forward with a swaggering impudence that ill-concealed his secret shame,
+and swore not only that Elizabeth Gaunt had given him shelter, but
+moreover that she had done it knowing who he was and where he came from.
+And so she was condemned to death, and, in the strange cruelty of the
+law, because she was a woman and adjudged guilty of treason, she must be
+burnt alive.
+
+She had no great friends to help her, no money with which to bribe the
+wicked court; yet I could not believe that a King who called himself a
+Christian--though of that cruel religion that has since hunted so many
+thousands of the best men out of France, or tortured them in their homes
+there--could abide to let a woman die, only because she had been
+merciful to a man that was his enemy. I went about like one distracted,
+seeking help where there was no help, and it was only when I went to the
+gaol and saw Elizabeth herself--which I was permitted to do for a
+farewell--that I found any comfort.
+
+"We must all die one day," she said, "and why not now, in a good cause?"
+
+"Is it a good cause," I cried, "to die for one that is a coward, a
+villain, a traitor?"
+
+"Nay," she answered, "you mistake. I die for the cause of charity. I die
+to fulfil my Master's command of kindness and mercy."
+
+"But the man was unworthy," I repeated.
+
+"What of that? The love is worthy that would have helped him; the
+charity is worthy that would have served him. Gladly do I die for having
+lived in love and charity. They are the courts of God's holy house. They
+are filled full of peace and joy. In their peace and joy may I abide
+until God receives me, unworthy, into His inner temple."
+
+"But the horror of the death! Oh, how can you bear it?"
+
+"God will show me how when the time comes," she said, with the
+simplicity of a perfect faith.
+
+[Sidenote: Death by Fire]
+
+And of a truth He did show her; for they that stood by her at the last
+testified how her high courage did not fail; no, nor her joy either; for
+she laid the straw about her cheerfully for her burning, and thanked God
+that she was permitted to die in this cruel manner for a religion that
+was all love.
+
+I could not endure to watch that which she could suffer joyfully, but at
+first I remained in the outskirts of the crowd. When I pressed forward
+after and saw her bound there--she that had sat at meals with me and
+lain in my bed at night--and that they were about to put a torch to the
+faggots and kindle them, I fell back in a swoon. Some that were merciful
+pulled me out of the throng, and cast water upon me; and William Penn
+the Quaker, that stood by (whom I knew by sight--and a strange show this
+was that he had come with the rest to look upon), spoke to me kindly,
+and bid me away to my home, seeing that I had no courage for such
+dreadful sights.
+
+So I hurried away, ashamed of my own cowardice, and weeping sorely,
+leaving behind me the tumult of the crowd, and smelling in the air the
+smoke of the kindled faggots. I put my fingers in my ears and ran back
+to the empty house: there to fall on my knees, to pray to God for mercy
+for myself, and to cry aloud against the cruelty of men.
+
+Then there happened a thing which I remember even now with shame.
+
+The man who had betrayed my mistress came disguised (for he was now at
+liberty to fly from the anger of the populace and the horror of his
+friends) and he begged me to go with him and to share his fortunes,
+telling me that he feared solitude above everything, and crying to me to
+help him against his own dreadful thoughts.
+
+I answered him with horror and indignation; but he said I should rather
+pity him, seeing that many another man would have acted so in his place;
+and others might have been in his place easily enough.
+
+"For," said he, "your friend Windham was among those that came to take
+service under the Duke and had to be sent away because there were no
+more arms. He was sorely disappointed that he could not join us."
+
+"Then," said I suddenly, "this was doubtless the reason why he fled the
+country--lest any should inform against him."
+
+"That is so," he answered; "and a narrow escape he has had; for if he
+had fought as he desired he might well have been in my place this day."
+
+"In Elizabeth Gaunt's rather!" I answered. "He would himself have died
+at the stake before he could have been brought to betray the woman that
+had helped him."
+
+"You had a poorer opinion of him a short while ago."
+
+"I knew not the world. I knew not men. I knew not _you_. Go! Go! Take
+away your miserable life--for which two good and useful lives have been
+given--and make what you can of it. I would--coward as I am--go back to
+my mistress and die with her rather than have any share in it!"
+
+He tarried no more, and I was left alone. Not a creature came near me.
+It may be that my neighbours had seen him enter, and thought of me with
+horror as a condoner of his crime; it may be that they were afraid to
+meddle with a house that had fallen into so terrible a trouble; or that
+the frightful hurricane that burst forth and raged that day (as if to
+show that God's anger was aroused and His justice, though delayed, not
+forgotten) kept them trembling in their houses.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Sidenote: A Knocking at Nightfall]
+
+What would have befallen me if I had been left long alone in that great
+and evil city I know not, for I had no wits left to make any plans for
+myself. At nightfall, however, there came once more a knocking, and when
+I opened the door my father stood on the threshold. There seemed no
+strangeness in his presence, and I fell into his arms weeping, so that
+he, seeing how grievous had been my punishment, forbore to make any
+reproach.
+
+The next day began our journey home, and I have never since returned to
+London; but when I got back to the place I had so foolishly left I found
+it sadder than before. Many friends were gone away or dead. Some honest
+lads, with whom I had jested at fair-times, hung withering on the
+ghastly gallows by the wayside; others lay in unknown graves; others
+languished in gaol or on board ship. My father's own brother, though his
+life was spared, had been sent away to the plantations to be sold, and
+to work as a slave.
+
+It was some time before Tom Windham--that had, at considerable risk to
+himself, sent my father to fetch me--ventured to settle again in his old
+place; and for a long time after that he was shy of addressing me.
+
+But I was changed now as much as he was. I had seen what the world was,
+and knew the value of an honest love in it. So that, in the end, we came
+to an understanding, and have been married these many years.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: What is girl life like in newer Canada--in lands to which so
+many of our brothers are going just now? This article--written in the
+Far North-West--supplies the answer.]
+
+Girl Life in Canada
+
+BY
+
+JANEY CANUCK
+
+
+If you leave out France, Canada is as large as all Europe; which means
+that the girls of our Dominion live under climatic, domestic, and social
+conditions that are many and varied. It is of the girls in the newer
+provinces I shall write--those provinces known as "North-West
+Canada"--who reside in the country adjacent to some town or village.
+
+It is true that many girls who come here with their fathers and mothers
+often live a long distance from a town or even a railroad.
+
+Where I live at Edmonton, the capital of the Province of Alberta, almost
+every day in the late winter we see girls starting off to the Peach
+River district, which lies to the north several hundred miles from a
+railroad.
+
+[Sidenote: A Travelling House]
+
+How do they travel? You could never guess, so I may as well tell you.
+They travel in a house--a one-roomed house. It is built on a sled and
+furnished with a stove, a table that folds against the wall, a cupboard
+for food and dishes, nails for clothing, and a box for toilet
+accessories. Every available inch is stored with supplies, so that
+every one must perforce sleep on the floor. This family bed is, however,
+by no means uncomfortable, for the "soft side of the board" is piled
+high with fur rugs and four-point blankets. (Yes, if you remind me I'll
+tell you by and by what a "four-point" blanket is.)
+
+The entrance to the house is from the back, and the window is in front,
+through a slide in which the lines extend to the heads of the horses or
+the awkward, stumbling oxen.
+
+You must not despise the oxen, or say, "A pretty, team for a Canadian
+girl!" for, indeed, they are most reliable animals, and not nearly so
+delicate as horses, nor so hard to feed--and they never, never run away.
+Besides--and here's the rub--you can always eat the oxen should you ever
+want to, and popular prejudice does not run in favour of horseflesh.
+
+Oh, yes! I said I would tell you about "four-point" blankets. They are
+the blankets that have been manufactured for nearly three hundred years
+by "the Honourable Company of Gentlemen Adventurers of England trading
+into Hudson's Bay," known for the sake of conciseness as the "H.B.
+Company." These blankets are claimed to be the best in the world, and
+weigh from eight to ten pounds. The Indians, traders, trappers, boatmen,
+and pioneers in the North use no others. They are called "four-point"
+because of four black stripes at one corner. There are lighter blankets
+of three and a half points, which points are indicated in the same way.
+By these marks an Indian knows exactly what value he is getting in
+exchange for his precious peltry.
+
+After travelling for three or four weeks in this gipsy fashion, mayhap
+getting a peep at a moose, a wolf, or even a bear (to say nothing of
+such inconsequential fry as ermine, mink, beaver, and otter), the family
+arrive at their holding of 160 acres.
+
+It does not look very pleasant, this holding. The snow is just melting,
+and the landscape is dreary enough on every side, for as yet Spring has
+not even suggested that green is the colour you may expect to see in
+Nature's fashion-plate. Not she!
+
+But here's the point. Look you here! the house is already built for
+occupancy, and has only to be moved from the sled to the ground. There
+is no occasion for a plumber or gasfitter either, and as for water and
+fuel, they are everywhere to be had for the taking.
+
+Presently other rooms will be added of lumber or logs, and a cellar
+excavated. But who worries about these things when they have just become
+possessors of 160 statute acres of land that have to be prepared for
+grain and garden stuff? Who, indeed?
+
+Here is where the girl comes in. She must learn to bake bread and cakes,
+how to dress game and fish, and how to make bacon appetising twice a
+day. She must "set" the hens so that there may be "broilers" against
+Thanksgiving Day, and eggs all the year round. She has to sow the
+lettuces, radishes, and onions for succulent salads; and always she must
+supply sunshine and music, indoors and out, for dad and mother and the
+boys.
+
+Perhaps you think she is not happy, but you are sadly mistaken. She is
+busy all day and sleepy all night. She knows that after a while a
+railroad is coming in here, and there will be work and money for men and
+teams, which means the establishment of a town near by, where you may
+purchase all kinds of household comforts and conveniences, to say
+nothing of pretty blouses, hats, and other "fixings." Oh, she knows it,
+the minx! She is the kind of a girl Charles Wagner describes as putting
+"witchery into a ribbon and genius into a stew."
+
+But let us take a look at the girl who lives in the more settled parts
+of the country, near a town.
+
+If she be ambitious, or anxious to help the home-folk, she will want to
+become a teacher, a bookkeeper, Civil Service employee, or a
+stenographer. To accomplish this end, she drives to town every day to
+attend the High School or Business College. Or perhaps she may move
+into town for the school terms.
+
+Of all these occupations, that of the teacher is most popular. Teachers,
+in these new provinces, are in great demand, for the supply is entirely
+inadequate. As a result, they are especially well paid.
+
+If the teacher is hard to get, she is also hard to hold; for the
+bachelor population being largely in the majority, there are many
+flattering inducements of a matrimonial character held out to the girl
+teacher to settle down permanently with a young farmer, doctor, real
+estate agent, lawyer, or merchant. You could never believe what
+inducements these sly fellows hold out. Never!
+
+In town our girls find many diversions. She may skate, ride, play golf,
+basket-ball, or tennis, according as her purse or preference may
+dictate.
+
+If there be no municipal public library, or reading-room in connection
+with the Young Women's Christian Association, she may borrow books from
+a stationer's lending-library for a nominal sum, so that none of her
+hours need be unoccupied or unprofitable.
+
+[Sidenote: Young Men and Maidens]
+
+In Canadian towns and villages the Church-life is of such a nature that
+every opportunity is given young girls to become acquainted with others
+of their own age. There are literary, temperance, missionary, and social
+clubs in connection with them, some one of which meets almost every
+night. In the winter the clubs have sleigh-rides and suppers, and in the
+summer lawn-socials and picnics much as they do in England, or in any
+part of the British Isles.
+
+Compared with girls in the older countries, it is my opinion that the
+Canadian lassie of the North-West Provinces has a keener eye to the
+material side of life. This is only a natural outcome of the commercial
+atmosphere in which she lives.
+
+She sees her father, or her friends, buying lots in some new town site,
+or in a new subdivision of some city, and, with an eye to the main
+chance, she desires to follow their example. These lots can be
+purchased at from �10 to �100, and by holding them for from one to five
+years they double or treble in value as the places become populated.
+
+As a result, nearly all the girls employed in Government offices, or as
+secretaries, teachers, or other positions where the salaries are fairly
+generous, manage to save enough money to purchase some lots to hold
+against a rise. After investing and reinvesting several times, our girl
+soon has a financial status of her own and secures a competency. She has
+no time for nervous prostration or moods, but is alert and wideawake all
+the time.
+
+Does she marry? Oh, yes! But owing to her financial independence,
+marriage is in no sense of the word a "Hobson's choice," but is
+generally guided entirely by heart and conscience, as, indeed, it always
+should be.
+
+Some of the girls who come from Europe or the British Isles save their
+dollars to enable the rest of the family to come out to Canada.
+
+"Wee Maggie," a waitress in a Winnipeg restaurant, told me the other day
+that in three years she had saved enough to bring her aged father and
+mother over from Scotland and to furnish a home for them.
+
+Still other girls engage in fruit-farming in British Columbia, or in
+poultry-raising; but these are undertakings that require some capital to
+start with.
+
+An increasingly large number of Canadian girls are taking University
+courses, or courses in technical colleges and musical conservatoires,
+with the idea of fitting themselves as High School teachers or for the
+medical profession.
+
+In speaking of the girls of Western Canada, one must not overlook the
+Swedish, Russian, Italian, Galician, and other Europeans who have made
+their home in the Dominion.
+
+The Handicrafts Guild is helping these girls to support themselves by
+basketry, weaving, lace and bead making, pottery, and needlework
+generally. Prizes are offered annually in the different centres for the
+best work, and all articles submitted are afterwards placed on sale in
+one of their work depositories. This association is doing a splendid
+work, in that they are making the arts both honourable and profitable.
+
+While this article has chiefly concerned itself with the domestic and
+peaceful pursuits of our Canadian girls, it must not be forgotten that
+in times of stress they have shown themselves to be heroines who have
+always been equal to their occasions.
+
+Our favourite heroine is, perhaps, Madeleine de Verch�res, who, in the
+early days when the Indians were an ever-present menace to the settlers
+on the St. Lawrence River, successfully defended her father's seignory
+against a band of savage Iroquois.
+
+Her father had left an old man of eighty, two soldiers, and Madeleine
+and her two little brothers to guard the fort during his absence in
+Quebec.
+
+[Sidenote: A Girl Captain]
+
+One day a host of Indians attacked them so suddenly they had hardly time
+to barricade the windows and doors. The fight was so fierce the soldiers
+considered it useless to continue it, but Madeleine ordered them to
+their posts, and for a week, night and day, kept them there. She taught
+her little brothers how to load and fire the guns so rapidly that the
+Indians were deceived and thought the fort well garrisoned.
+
+When a reinforcement came to her relief, it was a terribly exhausted
+little girl that stepped out to welcome them at the head of the
+defenders--Captain Madeleine Verch�res, aged fourteen!
+
+Yes, we like to tell this story of Madeleine over and over.
+
+We like to paint pictures of her, too, and to mould her figure in
+bronze; for we know right well that she is a type of the strong, brave,
+resourceful lassies who in all ranks of our national life, may ever be
+counted upon to stand to their posts, be the end what it may.
+
+Gentlemen, hats off! The Canadian girl!
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Evelyne resented the summons to rejoin her father in New
+Zealand. Yet she came to see that the call to service was a call to true
+happiness.]
+
+"Such a Treasure!"
+
+BY
+
+EILEEN O'CONNELL
+
+
+"Evelyne, come to my room before you go to your singing lesson. I have
+had a most important letter from your father; the New Zealand mail came
+in this morning."
+
+"Can I come now, Aunt Mary?" replied a clear voice, its owner appearing
+suddenly at the head of the stairs pinning on to a mass of sunny hair a
+very large hat. "I want to go early, for if I arrive first, I often get
+more than my regular time, and you know how greedy I am for new songs."
+
+Mrs. Trevor did not reply; she walked slowly into her morning-room and
+stood at the window looking perplexed and serious, thinking nothing
+about her niece's lessons, and looking at, without seeing, the midsummer
+beauty of her garden. A few minutes later the door opened, and she
+turned to the young girl, who with a song on her lips danced merrily
+into the room.
+
+At the sight of Mrs. Trevor's face she stopped suddenly, exclaiming,
+"Something is wrong! What has happened?"
+
+"You are right, Eva, something has happened--something, my child, that
+will affect your whole life." With a falter in her voice the woman
+continued, "You are to leave me, Evelyne, and go out to New Zealand. You
+are needed in your father's house."
+
+[Sidenote: "I Refuse to Go!"]
+
+"To New Zealand?--I refuse to go."
+
+"You have no choice in the matter, dearest. Your mother has become a
+confirmed invalid, and is incapable of looking after the children and
+the house. Your father has naturally thought of you."
+
+"As a kind of servant to a heap of noisy boys, half of whom I never have
+seen even. I daresay it would be very convenient and very cheap to have
+me. However, I shall not go to that outlandish place they live at in New
+Zealand, and you must tell father so."
+
+"But I cannot, Evie. There is no choice about it. Your parents have the
+first claim on you, remember."
+
+"I deny that," said the girl passionately; "they cared so little about
+me that they were ready to give me to you and go to New Zealand without
+me; that fact, I think, ends their claims. And Auntie, having lived here
+for eight years, and being in every way happy, and with so much before
+me to make life worth living, how can they be so selfish as to wish to
+ruin my prospects and make me miserable?"
+
+"Eva, Eva, don't jump to conclusions! Instead of believing that the
+worst motives compelled your father's decision, think it just possible
+that they were the highest. Put yourself out of the question for the
+moment and face facts. Your parents were _not_ willing to part with you;
+believe me, it was a bitter wrench to both to leave you behind. But
+settling up country in the colony was not an easy matter for my brother
+with his delicate wife and four children. Marjory was older than you, so
+of course more able to help with the boys, and knowing that his expenses
+would be very heavy and his means small, I offered to adopt you; for
+your sake, more than other considerations, I think, my offer was
+accepted. Since Marjory's death your mother has practically been alone,
+for servants are scarce and very expensive. Now, poor soul, her
+strength is at an end; she has developed an illness that involves the
+greatest care and rest. You see, darling, that this is no case for
+hesitation. The call comes to you, and you must answer and do your duty
+faithfully."
+
+The girl buried her face in the sofa cushions, her hat lay on the floor.
+
+"I hate children--especially boys," she said sullenly when she spoke.
+"Surely in eight years a doctor ought to be able to make enough to pay a
+housekeeper, if his wife can't look after his house."
+
+"You don't understand how hard life is sometimes, or I think you would
+be readier to take up part of a burden that is dragging down a good and
+brave man."
+
+"To live in an uncivilised country, where probably the people won't
+speak my own language----"
+
+"Don't betray such absurd ignorance, Eva," replied Mrs. Trevor; "you
+must know that New Zealand is a British colony, inhabited mainly by our
+own people, who are as well educated and as well mannered as ourselves."
+
+"And just when I was getting on so well with my singing! Mr. James said
+my voice would soon fill a concert hall, and all my hopes of writing and
+becoming a known author--everything dashed to the ground--every longing
+nipped in the bud! Oh! it is cruel, cruel!"
+
+"I knew, dear child, that the blow would be severe; don't imagine that
+it will be easy for me to give you up. But knowing what lies before us,
+the thing to do is to prize every hour we are together, and then with
+courage go forward to meet the unknown future. The boys are growing
+up----"
+
+"Hobbledehoys, you may be sure."
+
+Mrs. Trevor smiled, but said nothing. "And in addition to them, there is
+the baby sister you have never seen."
+
+"And never wish to," added Eva ungraciously.
+
+"We shall have much to think of, and when once you have become used to
+the idea, I should strongly advise you to settle to some practical work
+that will help when you are forced to depend on yourself."
+
+Eva did not reply. Mentally she was protesting or blankly refusing to
+give up her life of ease, of pleasures, and congenial study in exchange
+for the one offered her in the colony.
+
+"Friends of your father are now home and expect to return in September;
+so, having arranged for you to accompany them, we must regard their
+arrangements as time limit. It is always best to know the worst, though,
+believe me, anticipation is often worse than realisation."
+
+The sword had fallen, cutting off, as Evelyne Riley was fully convinced,
+every possibility of happiness on earth so far as she was concerned.
+Time seemed to fly on fairy wings; Mrs. Trevor made all necessary
+preparations, and before Evelyne realised that her farewell to England
+must be made, she stood on the deck of the outgoing steamer "Waimato" at
+the side of a stranger, waving her hand forlornly to the woman whose
+heart was sore at parting with one she had learned to look upon as her
+own child.
+
+[Sidenote: In New Zealand]
+
+Six weeks later, Eva landed at Wellington. The voyage had not interested
+her much, and she was glad to end it. She had read somewhere that it was
+usual to wear old clothes on board, but for landing to choose smart and
+becoming ones, and Eva had bestowed quite some thought on the subject.
+Her dark serge lay at the bottom of her trunk, and for the important
+occasion she decided on her most cherished frock and the new hat, which
+in Richmond she had worn on high-days and holidays. Certainly she looked
+very attractive. Almost sixteen, tall and very fair, Eva was a beautiful
+girl, and as the eyes of Dr. Riley fell on her, he wondered in amazement
+at the change that had taken place in the pale, slight child he had left
+with his sister. Could this really be Evelyne? If so, how was she going
+to suit in the simple surroundings to which she was going? He gazed in
+dismay at the expensive clothes and fashionable style of one who soon
+would need to patch and darn, to bake and cook, run the house on
+practical lines, and care for children.
+
+Somewhat nervous and much excited, Eva allowed herself to be kissed and
+caressed, asking after her mother in a constrained fashion, for, try as
+she would, she bore a grudge against one who was the cause of her
+changed life.
+
+A shadow overcast the doctor's face as he replied, "Your dear mother
+will not welcome you at our home as we had hoped. She lies very ill in a
+hospital at present, awaiting a severe operation, the success of which
+may save her life--God grant it may--but the boys and Babs are wild with
+excitement and longing to see you. We ought to reach 'Aroha' before they
+are in bed. It is only nine o'clock, and we can go part of the way by
+train; then we shall have a long buggy drive through the bush."
+
+That day Eva never forgot. Travelling with one who was practically a
+stranger to her and yet her nearest relative, the girl felt embarrassed.
+She wanted to hear about her future surroundings and ask questions about
+the children, but she found it hard to disguise her disappointment in
+having to leave her old home and to pretend enthusiasm about her
+brothers and sister; she feared that her father would read her thoughts
+and be hurt and offended, so relapsed into silence. Once they left the
+railway they said goodbye to civilisation, Eva felt positive.
+
+The country was at its loveliest; the early summer brought a beauty of
+its own. Rains had washed every leaf and refreshed each growing thing.
+Great trees, veritable giants, reared their heads proudly towards the
+sky, bushes were in full leaf, the ground on either side of the road was
+carpeted with thick moss that had grown for long years without being
+disturbed. From out of a cloudless sky the sun shone brilliantly, and
+the travellers gladly exchanged the high-road for the shelter of the
+bush. The day was undoubtedly hot, and Eva in her holiday raiment felt
+oppressed and weary before the carriage came in sight of the first
+houses that comprised the growing little township in which her father
+held an important position as medical man.
+
+The style of house brought a curve of contempt to the girl's lips, but
+she offered no opinions. Suddenly, without a remark, her father checked
+the horses, as a small group came to a halt in the middle of the road
+and began waving their hats and shouting wildly.
+
+"There's a welcome for you, Eva!"
+
+"Who are they? I mean--how did those boys know I was coming?"
+
+"They are your brothers, dear; jolly little chaps every one of them,
+even though they are a bunch of rough robins."
+
+Eva shivered; her brothers--those raggety tags!
+
+They presented a picturesque though unkempt appearance. Jack was eating
+a slice of bread and jam; Dick had Babs--somewhat in a soiled condition
+from watering the garden--on his back; Charlie, the incorrigible, with a
+tear in his knickers and a brimless hat on the back of his curly head,
+was leaping about like an excited kangaroo.
+
+[Sidenote: "An Impossible Crowd!"]
+
+The doctor held out his arms to the three-year-old little girl, who
+looked shyly at the pretty lady and then promptly hid her face. Eva's
+heart sank; she knew she ought to say or do something, but no words of
+tenderness came to her lips. The child might be attractive if clean, but
+it looked neglected, while the boys were what she described as
+"hobbledehoys." "An impossible crowd," she decided with a shudder, and
+yet her life was to be spent in their midst.
+
+"Leave your sister in peace, you young rascals!" said the doctor; "she
+is tired. Dick, put on the kettle; Eva will be glad of some tea, I know.
+Welcome home, dear daughter. Mother and I have longed for you so often,
+and my hopes run high now that you have come. I trust you will be a
+second mother to the boys and Babs."
+
+"I will try," Eva replied in a low voice.
+
+Her father noticed her depression, so wisely said little more, but going
+out to see a patient, left her to settle into her new surroundings in
+her own fashion.
+
+Next morning Eva wakened early and looked out of her window, which was
+shaded by a climbing rose that trailed right across it. The house was
+boarded and shingled, one little piece of wood neatly overlapping the
+other; it was only two stories high, with deep eaves and a wide verandah
+all around it.
+
+Breakfast once over, Eva made a tour of the rooms, ending up in the
+kitchen, accompanied, of course, by all the boys and Babs at her heels.
+Uncertain what to do first, she was much astonished at a voice
+proceeding from the washhouse saying in familiar fashion, "Where on
+earth are you all?" There had been no knock at the door, no bell
+rung--what could it mean?
+
+Standing unconcernedly in the middle of the room unrolling an apron
+stood a little woman of about forty years.
+
+"Good day to you, Eva; hope you slept well after your journey. Come out
+of the pantry, Jack, or I'll be after you."
+
+"May I ask whom I am talking to?" asked Eva icily, much resenting being
+addressed as "Eva."
+
+"I am Mrs. Meadows, and thought I'd just run in and show you where
+things are. You'll feel kind of strange."
+
+"Of course it will take some time to get used to things, but I think I
+should prefer doing it in my own way, thank you."
+
+"Perhaps that would be best," replied Mrs. Meadows. "To-day is baking
+day; can you manage, do you think?"
+
+"I suppose I can order from the baker?"
+
+The woman smiled. "'Help yourself' is the motto of a young country, my
+dear; every one is her own cook and baker, too. Let me help you to-day,
+and by next week things will seem easier, and you will be settled and
+rested. Your mother is my friend; for her sake I'd like to stand by you.
+Will you tidy the rooms while I see to the kitchen?"
+
+Fairly beaten, Eva walked upstairs, hating the work, the house, and
+everything in general, and Mrs. Meadows, whom she considered forward, in
+particular.
+
+The next three days were trials in many ways to the doctor's household,
+himself included. The meals were irregular, the food badly cooked, but
+the man patiently made allowances, and was silent. It was a break in the
+monotony of "sweep and cook and wash up" when Sunday arrived and the
+family went to church. The tiny building was nearly filled, and many
+eyes were turned on the newcomer. But she noticed no one. The old
+familiar hymns brought tears to her eyes, and her thoughts stole away
+from her keeping to the dear land beyond the seas. However, she rallied
+and joined heartily in the last hymn, her voice ringing out above all
+others.
+
+When next she saw Mrs. Meadows the conversation turned to church and
+congregation. After telling her details she thought were interesting,
+Mrs. Meadows said, "You have a nice voice, Eva, but you mustn't strain
+it."
+
+[Sidenote: Eva's Top Notes]
+
+"Do you think I do?" she replied. "I was trained at the Guildhall
+School, and I suppose my master knew the limits of my voice. _He_
+approved of my top notes. Perhaps you don't know what the Guildhall
+School is, though," she added insolently.
+
+"On the contrary, my father was one of the professors until he died.
+Don't think that in New Zealand we are quite ignorant of the world,
+Eva."
+
+The conversation upset the girl sadly. She was vain of her voice and
+anxious to make the most of it. She went into the kitchen to make a pie,
+heedless that Jack had found a jar of raisins and was doing his best to
+empty it as fast as he could, and that Charlie was too quiet to be out
+of mischief. The paste was made according to her ability, certainly
+neither light nor digestible, and was ready for the oven, when suddenly
+a giggle behind her made her turn to behold that wretched boy Charlie
+dressed in her blue velvet dress, best hat, and parasol.
+
+"You wicked boy, how dare you?" she cried, stamping her foot, but the
+boy fled, leaving the skirt on the floor. Picking it up, she gave chase
+to recover the hat, and when at last she returned to her pie, she found
+that Jack had forestalled her and made cakes for himself out of it and a
+marble tart for her.
+
+Eva did not trust herself with the boys that morning; she literally
+hated them. Still, she must master herself before she could master them,
+and show once and for all that she was able to deal with the situation.
+Shutting herself into the parlour, she sat quiet, trying to think and
+plan, but in vain--she could not calm herself.
+
+She took up a book and attempted to read and forget her annoyances in
+losing herself in the story, but that, too, failed. Her trials were
+countless. Not sufficient were to be found in the house, but that
+interfering Mrs. Meadows must criticise her singing.
+
+She opened the piano, determined to listen to herself and judge what
+truth there was in the remark. She ran over a few scales, but was
+interrupted by a rough-looking man shouting, "Stop that noise, and come
+here! It'd be better if you looked after the bits of bairns than sit
+squealing there like a pig getting killed. Don't stare so daft; where's
+yer father?"
+
+Eva rose in anger, but going up to the man, words died on her lips--her
+heart seemed to stand still, for in his arms he held Babs, white and
+limp.
+
+"What has happened--is she dead?"
+
+"Don't know; get her to bed." But Eva's hands trembled too much to move
+them, so the old Scotch shepherd pushed her aside, muttering, "Yer
+feckless as yer bonny; get out of the way." Tenderly his rough hands
+cared for the little one, undressing and laying her in her bed.
+
+"She's always after the chickens and things on our place, and I think
+she's had a kick or a fall, for I found her lying in a paddock."
+
+"Where were you, Eva? Hadn't you missed Babs? I thought at any rate she
+would be safe with you," said her father.
+
+Eva's remorse was real. Her mother dying, perhaps, the children
+entrusted to her, and she--wrapped up in herself and her own
+grievances--what use was she in the world? But oh! if Babs were only
+spared how different she would be! If she died, Eva told herself, she
+would never be happy again.
+
+She went downstairs wretched and helpless, and once more found Jessie
+Meadows in possession of the kitchen. "How is Babs?"
+
+"Conscious, I think--but I don't know," and the girl buried her face and
+wept passionately.
+
+"There, there, Eva, we've all got to learn lessons, and some are mighty
+hard. Take life as you find it, and don't make trouble. The change was a
+big one, I know, but you'll find warm hearts and willing hands wherever
+men and women are. I just brought over a pie and a few cakes I found in
+my pantry----"
+
+"I can't accept them after being so rude."
+
+[Sidenote: A Short Memory]
+
+"Were you rude, dear? A short memory is an advantage sometimes. But
+we'll kiss and be friends, as the children say, and I will take turns
+with you in nursing Babs."
+
+What Eva would have done without the capable woman would be hard to say,
+for the child lay on the borders of the spirit land for weeks. When the
+crisis was past her first words were, "Evie, Evie!" and never before had
+Eva listened with such joy and thankfulness to her name. The child could
+not bear her out of sight; "pretty sister" was doctor, nurse, and mother
+in one. Unwearied in care, and patient with the whims of the little
+one, she was a treasure to her father, whose harassed face began to wear
+a happier expression.
+
+"I have great news to tell," he began one evening when, with Babs in his
+arms and the boys hanging around in their usual fashion, they were
+sitting together after tea.
+
+"Tell, tell!" shouted the audience; but the doctor shook his head, while
+his eyes rested on Eva.
+
+"Is it about mother?" she whispered, and he nodded.
+
+"Mother is well, and coming home."
+
+"Mother's coming back!" was echoed throughout the house to the
+accompaniment of a war dance of three excited kangaroos until sleep
+closed all eyes.
+
+[Illustration: MRS. MEADOWS' BROTHER ARRIVED.]
+
+The day of the arrival was memorable in many ways to the young girl. In
+the morning came an invitation to sing at a concert, an hour later Mrs.
+Meadows' brother arrived, laden with good things for the returning
+invalid, and with a letter from an editor in Wellington, which brought a
+flush of delighted surprise to Eva's face.
+
+Mrs. Meadows herself came over later.
+
+"The editor is a friend of mine, Eva," she said; "and in rescuing a
+story of yours from Jack, I found him a contributor. Not for what you
+have done, but for what I'm certain you can do if you will write of life
+and not sentimental rubbish. You are not offended, are you?"
+
+Eva's eyes glistened. "Offended with _you_--_you_ who have laden me with
+kindness, and helped me to find all that is worth having in life! I have
+learned now to see myself with other eyes than my own."
+
+Eva's doubts were set to rest once and for ever when she saw the frail
+mother she had really forgotten, and felt her arms around her as she
+said, "My daughter--thank Heaven for such a treasure!"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Rosette was a girl of singular resolution. Through what
+perils she passed unscathed this story will tell.]
+
+Rosette in Peril
+
+A Story of the War of La Vend�e
+
+BY
+
+M. LEFUSE
+
+
+A loud knocking sounded at the door.
+
+"Jean Paulet," cried a voice, "how much longer am I to stand and knock?
+Unbar the door!"
+
+"Why, it is Monsieur de Marigny!" exclaimed the farmer, and hurried to
+let his visitor in.
+
+"Ah, Jean Paulet! You are no braver than when I saw you last!" laughed
+the tall man who entered, wrapped in a great cloak that fell in many
+folds. "I see you have not joined those who fight for freedom, but have
+kept peacefully to your farm. 'Tis a comfortable thing to play the
+coward in these days! And I would that you would give a little of the
+comfort to this small comrade of mine." From beneath the shelter of his
+cloak a childish face peered out at the farmer and his wife.
+
+"Ah, Monsieur! that is certainly your little Rosette!" exclaimed Madame
+Paulet. "Yes, yes, I have heard of her--how you adopted the poor little
+one when her father was dead of a bullet and her mother of grief and
+exposure; and how, since, you have loved and cared for her and kept her
+ever at your side!"
+
+"Well, that is finished. We are on the eve of a great battle--God grant
+us victory!" he said reverently--"and I have brought the little one to
+you to pray you guard and shelter her till I return again. What, Jean
+Paulet! You hesitate? Before this war I was a good landlord to you. Will
+you refuse this favour to me now?" asked de Marigny, looking sternly
+down on the farmer from his great height.
+
+"I--I do not say that I refuse--but I am a poor defenceless man; 'tis a
+dangerous business to shelter rebels--ah, pardon! loyalists--in these
+times!" stammered Jean Paulet.
+
+"No more dangerous than serving both sides! Some among this republic's
+officers would give much to know who betrayed them, once, not long ago.
+You remember, farmer? What if _I_ told tales?" asked de Marigny grimly.
+
+"Eh! but you will not!" exclaimed the terrified man. "No, no! I am safe
+in your hands; you are a man of honour, Monsieur--and the child shall
+stay! Yes, yes; for your sake!"
+
+De Marigny caught up Rosette and kissed her. "Sweetheart, you must stay
+here in safety. What? You are 'not afraid to go'? No, but I am afraid to
+take you, little one. Ah, vex me not by crying; I will soon come to you
+again!" He took a step towards the farmer. "Jean Paulet, I leave my
+treasure in your hands. If aught evil happen to her, I think I should go
+mad with grief," he said slowly. "And a madman is dangerous, my friend;
+he is apt to be unreasonable, to disbelieve excuses, and to shoot those
+whom he fancies have betrayed him! So pray you that I find Rosette in
+safety when I come again. Farewell!"
+
+But before he disappeared into the night, he turned smiling to the
+child. "Farewell, little one. In the brighter days I will come for thee
+again. Forget me not!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Round Jean Paulet's door one bright afternoon clustered a troop of the
+republican soldiers, eyeing indolently the perspiring farmer as he ran
+to and fro with water for their horses, and sweetening his labours with
+scraps of the latest news.
+
+"H�, Paulet," suddenly asked the corporal, "hast heard anything of the
+rebel General Marigny?"
+
+"No!" replied the farmer hurriedly. "What should I hear? Is he still
+alive?"
+
+"Yes, curse him! So, too, is that wretched girl, daughter of a vile
+aristocrat, that he saved from starvation. Bah! as if starving was not
+too good a death for her! But there is a price set on Marigny, and a
+reward would be given for the child too. So some one will soon betray
+them, and then--why, we will see if they had not rather have starved!"
+he said ferociously.
+
+"I--I have heard this Marigny is a brave man," observed the farmer
+timidly.
+
+"That is why we want the child! There is nothing would humble him save
+perchance to find he could not save the child he loves from torture. Ha!
+ha! we shall have a merry time then!"
+
+"Doubtless this Marigny is no friend to the republic," said the farmer
+hesitatingly.
+
+The corporal laughed noisily as he gathered up his horse's reins. "Head
+and front of this insurrection--an accursed rebel! But he shall pay for
+it, he shall pay; and so will all those fools who have helped him!"
+
+And the little band of soldiers rode away, shouting and jesting, leaving
+Jean Paulet with a heart full of fear.
+
+With trembling fingers he pushed open the house door, and, stepping into
+the kitchen, found Rosette crouched beneath the open window. "Heard you
+what they said--that they are seeking for you?" he gasped.
+
+Rosette nodded. "They have done that this long time," she observed
+coolly.
+
+[Sidenote: "They must find You!"]
+
+"But--but--some time they must find you!" he stammered.
+
+Rosette laughed. "Perhaps--if I become as stupid a coward as Jean
+Paulet."
+
+The farmer frowned. "I am no coward--I am an experienced man. And I tell
+you--I, with the weight of forty years behind me--that they will find
+you some time."
+
+"And I tell you--I," mimicked Rosette saucily, "with the weight of my
+twelve years behind me--that I have lived through so many perils, I
+should be able to live through another!"
+
+"'Tis just that!" said the farmer angrily. "You have no prudence; you
+take too many risks; you expose yourself to fearful dangers." He
+shuddered.
+
+"What you fear is that I shall expose you," returned Rosette cheerfully.
+"H�, well! a man can but die once, Farmer Paulet."
+
+"That is just it!" exclaimed the farmer vivaciously. "If I had six lives
+I should not mind dying five times; but having only the one, I cannot
+afford to lose it! And, besides, I have my wife to think of."
+
+Rosette meditated a moment. "Better late than never, Farmer Paulet. I
+have heard tell you never thought of that before." The sharp little face
+softened. "She is a good woman, your wife!"
+
+"True, true! She is a good woman, and you would not care for her to be
+widowed. Consider if it would not be better if I placed you in safety
+elsewhere."
+
+"Jean Paulet! Jean Paulet!" mocked Rosette; "I doubt if I should do your
+wife a kindness if I saved your skin."
+
+Jean Paulet wagged a forefinger at her angrily. "You will come to a bad
+end with a tongue like that! If it were not for the respect I owe to
+Monsieur de Marigny----"
+
+"Marigny's pistol!" interrupted Rosette.
+
+"Ah, bah! What is to prevent my abandoning you?" asked the farmer
+furiously.
+
+Rosette swung her bare legs thoughtfully. "Papa Marigny is a man of his
+word--and you lack five of your half-dozen lives, Jean Paulet."
+
+"See you it is dangerous!" returned her protector desperately. "My wife
+she is not here to advise me; she is in the fields----"
+
+"I have noticed she works hard," murmured Rosette.
+
+[Sidenote: To the Uplands!]
+
+"And I will not keep you here. But for the respect I owe Monsieur de
+Marigny, I am willing to sacrifice something. I have a dozen of sheep in
+the field down there--ah! la, la! they represent a lifetime's savings,
+but I will sacrifice them for my safety--no, no; for Monsieur de
+Marigny, I mean!" he wailed. "You shall drive them to the uplands and
+stay there out of danger. I do not think you will meet with soldiers;
+but if you do, at the worst they will only take a sheep--ah! my sheep!"
+he broke off distressfully. "Now do not argue. Get you gone before my
+wife returns. See, I will put a little food in this handkerchief. There,
+you may tell Monsieur de Marigny I have been loyal to him. Go, go! and,
+above all, remember never to come near me again, or say those sheep are
+mine. You will be safe, quite safe."
+
+Rosette laughed. "You have a kind heart, Jean Paulet," she mocked. "But
+I think perhaps you are right. You are too much of a poltroon to be a
+safe comrade in adversity."
+
+She sprang from her chair and ran to the doorway. Then she looked back.
+"Hark you, Jean Paulet! This price upon my head--it is a fine price, h�?
+Well, I am little, but I have a tongue, and _I know what my papa de
+Marigny knows_. Ah! the fine tale to tell, if they catch us! Eh?
+Farewell."
+
+She ran lightly across the yard, pausing a moment when a yellow mongrel
+dog leaped up and licked her chin. "H�, Gegi, you love me better than
+your master does!" she said, stooping to pat his rough coat. "And you do
+not love your master any better than I do, eh? Why, then you had better
+keep sheep too! There is a brave idea. Come, Gegi, come!" And together
+they ran off through the sunshine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was very cold that autumn up on the higher lands, very cold and very
+lonely.
+
+Also several days had passed since Rosette had ventured down to the
+nearest friendly farm to seek for food, and her little store of
+provisions was nearly finished.
+
+"You and I must eat, Gegi. Stay with the sheep, little one, while I go
+and see if I can reach some house in safety." And, the yellow mongrel
+offering no objection, Rosette started.
+
+She was not the only person in La Vend�e who lacked food. Thousands of
+loyal peasants starved, and the republican soldiers themselves were not
+too plentifully supplied. Certainly they grumbled bitterly sometimes, as
+did that detachment of them who sheltered themselves from the keen wind
+under the thick hedge that divided the rough road leading to La
+Plasti�re from the fields.
+
+"Bah! we live like pigs in these days!" growled one of the men.
+
+"It is nothing," said another. "Think what we shall get at La Plasti�re!
+The village has a few fat farmers, who have escaped pillaging so far by
+the love they bore, as they said, to the good republic. But that is
+ended: once we have caught this rascal Marigny in their midst, we can
+swear they are not good republicans."
+
+"But," objected the first speaker, "they may say they knew nothing of
+this Marigny hiding in the ch�teau!"
+
+"They may say so--but we need not believe them!" returned his companion.
+
+"Ah, bah! I would believe or not believe anything, so long as it brought
+us a good meal! How long before we reach this village, comrade?"
+
+"Till nightfall. We would not have Marigny watch our coming. This time
+we will make sure of the scoundrel."
+
+Rosette, standing hidden behind the hedge, clenched her hands tightly at
+the word. She would have given much to have flung it back at the man,
+but prudence suggested it would be better to be discreet and help
+Marigny. She turned and ran along under the hedge, and away back to
+where she had left her little flock, her bare feet falling noiselessly
+on the damp ground.
+
+"Ah, Gegi!" she panted, flinging herself beside the yellow mongrel, "the
+soldiers are very near, and they are going to surprise my beloved papa
+de Marigny. What must we do, Gegi, you and I, to save him?"
+
+Gegi rolled sharply on to his back and lay staring up at the skies as if
+he was considering the question. Rosette rested her chin on her drawn-up
+knees and thought fiercely. She knew in what direction lay the ch�teau
+of La Plasti�re, and she knew that to reach it she must cross the
+countryside, and cross, too, in full view of the soldiers below; or
+else--and that was the shorter way--go along the road by which they
+encamped.
+
+Rosette frowned. If they spied her skulking in the distance, they would
+probably conclude she carried a message that might be valuable to them
+and pursue her. If she walked right through them? Bah! Would they know
+it was Rosette--Rosette, for whose capture a fine reward would be given?
+
+She did not look much like an aristocrat's child, she thought, glancing
+at her bare brown legs and feet, and her stained, torn blue frock. Her
+dark, matted curls were covered with a crimson woollen cap--her every
+garment would have been suitable for a peasant child's wear; and Rosette
+was conscious that her size was more like that of a child of seven than
+that of one of twelve. She had passed unknown through many
+soldiers--would these have a more certain knowledge of her?
+
+[Sidenote: "How am I to Settle it?"]
+
+"Oh, Gegi!" she sighed; "how am I to settle it?"
+
+Gegi wagged his tail rapidly and encouragingly, but offered no further
+help.
+
+If she went across country the way was longer far, and there was a big
+risk. If she went near those soldiers and was known, why, risk would
+become a certainty. That Death would stare into her face then, none
+knew better than Rosette; but Death was also very near Rosette's beloved
+de Marigny, the man who had cared for her and loved her with all the
+warmth of his big, generous heart.
+
+"Ah! if my papa de Marigny dies, I may as well die too, Gegi," she
+whispered wearily. The yellow mongrel cocked one ear with a rather
+doubtful expression. "Well, we must take the risk. If papa de Marigny is
+to live, you and I, Gegi, must take him warning!" Rosette cried,
+springing to her feet; and Gegi signified his entire approval in a
+couple of short barks. "I will take the sheep," his little mistress
+murmured; "'tis slower, but they will be so pleased to see them. Poor
+Jean Paulet!" she thought, with a faint smile.
+
+Gegi bounded lightly through a gap in the hedge, and dashed up to the
+soldiers inquisitively. With an oath, one of the men hurled a stone at
+him, which Gegi easily dodged, and another man stretched out his hand
+for his musket.
+
+"There are worse flavours than dog's meat," he observed coolly. "Come,
+little beast, you shall finish your life gloriously, nourishing soldiers
+of the republic!" He placed his gun in position.
+
+"H�! you leave my dog alone!" called Rosette sharply, as she stepped
+into the roadway. "He has the right to live," she added, as she moved
+jauntily up to them. Her pert little face showed nothing of the anguish
+in her heart.
+
+"Not if I want him for my supper," observed the soldier, grinning at his
+comrades, who changed their position to obtain a better view of the
+coming sport.
+
+"But you do not," corrected Rosette. "If you need to eat dog, search for
+the dog of an accursed fugitive!"
+
+The men laughed. "How do we know this is not one?" they asked.
+
+"I will show you. H�, Gegi!" she called, and the dog came and sat in
+front of her. "Listen, Gegi. Would you bark for a monarchy?" The yellow
+mongrel glanced round him indifferently. "Gegi!" his mistress called
+imperiously, "do you cheer for the glorious republic?" And for answer,
+Gegi flung up his head and barked.
+
+"You see?" asked Rosette, turning to the grinning man. "He is your
+brother, that little dog. And you may not eat your brother, you know,"
+she added gravely.
+
+[Sidenote: "Whose Sheep are those?"]
+
+"H�, by the Mass! whose sheep are those?" cried a soldier suddenly.
+
+"They are mine, or rather they are my master's; I am taking them back to
+the farm."
+
+"Why, then, we will spare you the trouble. I hope they, too, are not
+good republicans," he jested.
+
+"I have called them after your great leaders--but they do not always
+answer to their names," Rosette assured him seriously.
+
+"Then they are only worthy to be executed. Your knife, comrade," cried
+one of the men, jumping to his feet. "What, more of them! Six, seven,
+eight," he counted, as the sheep came through the gap. "Why, 'twill be
+quite a massacre of traitors."
+
+"Oh, please! you cannot eat them all! Leave me some, that I may drive
+back with me, else my master will beat me!" implored Rosette, beginning
+to fear that her chances of passing towards the far distant village were
+lessening.
+
+"Your master! Who is your master?"
+
+"He is a farmer down there," nodding vaguely as she spoke.
+
+"Hark you! Have you by any chance seen a man bigger than the average
+skulking thereabouts?"
+
+She shook her head. "There are few big men round here--none so fine as
+you!" she said prettily.
+
+The man gave a proud laugh. "Ah! we of Paris are a fine race."
+
+Rosette nodded. "My Master is a good republican. You will let me take
+him back the sheep," she coaxed.
+
+"Why, those that remain," the soldier replied, with a grin. "Sho! sho!
+Those that run you can follow. Ah, behold!" Rosette needed no second
+bidding, but started after the remnant of her little troop.
+
+"H�!" called one of the soldiers to his comrades--and the wind bore the
+words to Rosette--"you are fools to let that child pass! For aught we
+know, she may be spying for the rebels."
+
+As the men stared after her irresolute, Rosette slackened her pace,
+flung up her head, and in her clear childish treble began to sing that
+ferocious chant, then at the height of its popularity, which is now the
+national hymn of France. So singing, she walked steadily down the long
+road, hopeful that she might yet save the man who was a father to her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was almost dusk outside the desolate, half-ruined ch�teau of La
+Plasti�re. Within its walls the shadows of night were already thickly
+gathered--shadows so dark that a man might have lurked unseen in them.
+Some such thought came to Rosette as she stood hesitating in the great
+hall. How silent the place was! The only noises came from without--the
+wind sobbing strangely in the garden, the ghostly rustling of the
+leaves, the moan of the dark, swift river. Ah! there was something
+moving in the great hall! What was it? A rat dashed by, close to
+Rosette's feet; then the hall settled again into unbroken silence.
+
+The child's heart beat quickly. She hated, feared, the shadows and the
+quiet.
+
+Yet she must go forward; she dare not call aloud, and she must find de
+Marigny, if, indeed, he was still there.
+
+She groped her way to the broad stone stairs. How dark it was! She
+glanced up fearfully. Surely something up above her in the shadow on the
+stairway moved. She shrank back.
+
+"Coward! little coward!" she muttered. And to scare away her fear she
+began to sing softly, very softly, a tender little song de Marigny
+himself had taught to her.
+
+"Stay thy hand, man! It is Rosette!" cried a voice from above her,
+shattering the silence. And the shadow that had moved before moved
+again, and a man from crouching on the step rose suddenly in front of
+her.
+
+"Why did you not speak? I thought we were like to be discovered, and I
+had nearly killed you. Curse this dark!"
+
+"Hush!" whispered Rosette. "Hush! you are betrayed! The soldiers are
+coming. Oh, Papa de Marigny," she murmured, as he came down the
+stairway, "they are to be here at dusk. Is it too late? I tried to get
+here sooner, but--it was such a long road!" she ended, with a sob.
+
+De Marigny gathered her in his arms. "And such a little traveller! Never
+mind, sweetheart, we will cheat them yet," he said tenderly. "Warn the
+others, Lacroix!"
+
+[Sidenote: Flight]
+
+But Lacroix had done that already. The house was full now of stealthy
+sounds and moving shadows descending the great staircase. De Marigny,
+carrying Rosette, led the way across the garden behind the house,
+towards the river that cut the countryside in half. The stillness of the
+night was broken suddenly by the neighing of a not far distant horse.
+
+"The soldiers! the rebels, papa!" cried Rosette.
+
+De Marigny whispered softly to one of his companions, who ran swiftly
+away from him, and busied himself drawing from its hiding-place a small
+boat. They could hear the tramp of horses now, near, very near, and yet
+the men seated silent in the boat held tightly to the bank.
+
+Hark! The thud, thud of running footsteps came to Rosette, nearer,
+nearer, and the man for whom they waited sprang from the bank into their
+midst.
+
+A moment later they were caught by the swift current and carried out
+into the centre of the broad river.
+
+"Now, if my plan does not miscarry, we are safe!" cried de Marigny
+exultantly.
+
+"But, papa, dear one, they will follow us across the river and stop our
+landing!" cried Rosette anxiously.
+
+De Marigny chuckled. "Providentially the river flows too fast, little
+one, for man or horse to ford it. The bridge yonder in the field is the
+only way to cross the river for many miles. And I do not think they will
+try the bridge, for I was not so foolish as not to prepare for a
+surprise visit many days ago. Look, little one!" he added suddenly.
+
+Rosette held her breath as away up the river a great flame streamed up
+through the darkness, followed by a loud explosion, and she saw
+fragments of wood hurled like playthings high into the air. Some, as
+they fell again to earth, turned into blazing torches. For far around
+trees and hedges showed distinctly; the gleaming river, the garden, and
+the ch�teau stood out clear in the flaming light.
+
+Round the ch�teau tore two or three frightened, plunging horses, and the
+desperate gestures of their riders could easily be seen by Rosette for a
+moment before their craft was hidden by a turn in the river bank.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Monsieur de Marigny rejoined the loyalists across the river, and,
+animated by his presence, the struggle against the republic was resumed
+with great firmness.
+
+Whenever de Marigny rode among his peasant soldiers, he, their idol, was
+greeted with many a lively cheer, which yet grew louder and more joyful
+when he carried before him on his horse Rosette, the brave child who had
+saved their leader's life at the risk of her own.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A few plain hints to the teachable.]
+
+Golf for Girls
+
+BY
+
+AN OLD STAGER
+
+
+I veil my identity because I am not a girl--old or young. Being, indeed,
+a mere man, it becomes me to offer advice with modesty.
+
+And, of course, in the matter of golf, women--many of them no more than
+girls--play so well that men cannot affect any assurance of superiority.
+On my own course I sometimes come upon a middle-aged married couple
+playing with great contentment a friendly game. The wife always drives
+the longer ball, and upon most occasions manages to give her husband a
+few strokes and a beating.
+
+However, I did not start out to write a disquisition on women as
+golfers, but only to offer some hints on golf for girls.
+
+And first, as to making a start.
+
+The best way is the way that is not possible to everybody. No girl plays
+golf so naturally or so well as the girl who learned it young; who,
+armed with a light cleek or an iron, wandered around the links in
+company with her small brothers almost as soon as she was big enough to
+swing a club. Such a girl probably had the advantage of seeing the game
+played well by her elders, and she would readily learn to imitate their
+methods. Of course, very young learners may and do pick up bad habits;
+but a little good advice will soon correct these if the learner is at
+all keen on the game.
+
+A girl who grows up under these conditions--and many do in
+Scotland--does not need any hints from me. She starts under ideal
+conditions, and ought to make the most of them. Others begin at a later
+age, with fewer advantages, and perhaps without much help to be got at
+home.
+
+How, then, to begin. Be sure of one thing: you cannot learn to play golf
+out of your own head, or even by an intelligent study of books on the
+subject. For, if you try, you will do wrong and yet be unable to say
+_what_ you are doing wrong. In that you will not be peculiar. Many an
+experienced golfer will suddenly pick up a fault. After a few bad
+strokes he knows he is wrong somewhere, but may not be able to spot the
+particular defect. Perhaps a kindly disposed opponent--who knows his
+disposition, for not everybody will welcome or take advice--tells him;
+and then in a stroke or two he puts the thing right. So you need a
+teacher.
+
+Generally speaking, a professional is the best teacher, because he has
+had the most experience in instruction. But professionals vary greatly
+in teaching capacity, and cannot be expected in every case to take the
+same interest in a pupil's progress that a friend may. If you are to
+have the help of a relative or friend, try to get competent help. There
+_are_ well-meaning persons whose instruction had better be shunned as
+the plague.
+
+Let your teacher choose your clubs for you, and, in any case, do not
+make the mistake of fitting yourself up at first either with too many
+clubs or with clubs too heavy for you.
+
+[Illustration: A BREEZY MORNING]
+
+As to first steps in learning, I am disposed to think that an old-time
+method, by which young people learned first to use _one_ club with
+some skill and confidence before going on to another, was a good one. In
+that case they would begin with a cleek or an iron before using the
+driver.
+
+The learner should give great attention to some first principles. Let
+her note the _grip_ she is told to use. Very likely it will seem to her
+uncomfortable, and not at all the most convenient way of holding a club
+in order to hit a ball; but it is the result of much experience, and has
+not been arbitrarily chosen for her especial discomfort.
+
+In like manner the stance, or way of standing when making a stroke, must
+be noted carefully and copied exactly. In private practice defy the
+inward tempter which suggests that you can do much better in some other
+way. Don't, above all, allow yourself to think that you will hit the
+ball more surely if you stand farther behind it--not even if you have
+seen your brother tee a ball away to the left of his left foot and still
+get a long shot.
+
+[Sidenote: "Keep your Eye on the Ball"]
+
+Don't think that the perpetual injunction, "Keep your eye on the ball,"
+is an irritating formula with little reason behind it. It is, as a
+matter of fact, a law quite as much for your teacher as for yourself.
+And don't suppose that you _have_ kept your eye on the ball because you
+think you have. It is wonderful how easy it is to keep your eye
+glued--so to speak--to the ball until the very half-second when that
+duty is most important and then to lift the head, spoiling the shot. If
+you can persuade yourself to look at the ball all through the stroke,
+and to look at the spot where the ball was even after the ball is away,
+you will find that you not only hit the ball satisfactorily but that it
+flies straighter than you had hitherto found it willing to do. When you
+are getting on, and begin to have some satisfaction with yourself, then
+remember that this maxim still requires as close observance as ever. If
+you find yourself off your game--such as it is--ask yourself at once,
+"Am I keeping my eye on the ball?" And don't be in a hurry to assume
+that you were.
+
+Always bear in mind, too, that you want to hit the ball with a kind of
+combined motion, which is to include the swing of your body. You are not
+there to use your arms only. If you begin young, you will, I expect,
+find little difficulty in this. It is, to older players, quite amazing
+how readily a youngster will fall into a swing that is the embodiment of
+grace and ease.
+
+Putting is said by some to be not an art but an inspiration. Perhaps
+that is why ladies take so readily to it. On the green a girl is at no
+disadvantage with a boy. But remember that there is no ordinary stroke
+over which care pays so well as the putt; and that there is no stroke in
+which carelessness can be followed by such humiliating disaster. Don't
+think it superfluous to examine the line of a putt; and don't, on any
+account, suppose that, because the ball is near the hole, you are bound
+to run it down.
+
+Forgive me for offering a piece of advice which ought to be superfluous
+and is not. I have sometimes found ladies most culpably careless in the
+matter of divots. It is a fundamental rule that, if in playing you cut
+out a piece of turf, you or your caddy should replace it. Never, under
+any circumstances, neglect this rule or allow your caddy to neglect it.
+Nobody who consistently neglects this rule ought to be allowed on any
+course.
+
+A word as to clothing. I _have_ seen ladies playing in hats that rather
+suggested the comparative repose of a croquet lawn on a hot summer's
+day. But of course you only want good sense as your guide in this
+matter. Ease without eccentricity should be your aim. Remember, too,
+that whilst men like to play golf in old clothes, and often have a kind
+of superstitious regard for some disgracefully old and dirty jacket, a
+girl must not follow their example. Be sure, in any case, that your
+boots or shoes are strong and water-tight.
+
+[Sidenote: Keep your Heart up!]
+
+Finally, keep your heart up! Golf is a game of moods and vagaries. It is
+hard to say why one plays well one day and badly another; well, perhaps,
+when in bad health, and badly when as fit as possible; well, perhaps,
+when you have started expecting nothing, and badly when you have felt
+that you could hit the ball over the moon. Why one may play well for
+three weeks and then go to pieces; why one will go off a particular club
+and suddenly do wonders with a club neglected; why on certain days
+everything goes well--any likely putt running down, every ball kicking
+the right way, every weak shot near a hazard scrambling out of danger,
+every difficult shot coming off; and why on other days every shot that
+can go astray will go astray--these are mysteries which no man can
+fathom. But they add to the infinite variety of the game; only requiring
+that you should have inexhaustible patience and hope as part of your
+equipment. And patience is a womanly virtue.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A mere oversight nearly wrecked two lives. Happily the
+mistake was discovered before remedy had become impossible.]
+
+Sunny Miss Martyn
+
+A Christmas Story
+
+BY
+
+SOMERVILLE GIBNEY
+
+
+"Goodbye, Miss Martyn, and a merry Christmas to you!"
+
+"Goodbye, Miss Martyn; how glad you must be to get rid of us all! But I
+shall remember you on Christmas Day."
+
+"Goodbye, dear Miss Martyn; I hope you won't feel dull. We shall all
+think of you and wish you were with us, I know. A very happy Christmas
+to you."
+
+"The same to you, my dears, and many of them. Goodbye, goodbye; and,
+mind, no nonsense at the station. I look to you, Lesbia, to keep the
+others in order."
+
+"Trust me, Miss Martyn; we'll be very careful."
+
+"I really think I ought to have gone with you and seen you safely off,
+and----"
+
+"No, no, no--you may really trust us. We've all of us travelled before,
+and we will behave, honour bright!"
+
+[Sidenote: Off for the Holidays]
+
+And with a further chorus of farewells and Christmas wishes, the six or
+seven girls, varying in age from twelve to seventeen, who had been
+taking their places in the station 'bus, waved their hands and blew
+kisses through the windows as the door slammed, and it rolled down the
+drive of Seaton Lodge over the crisp, hard-frozen snow. And more and
+more indistinct grew the merry farewells, till the gate was reached, and
+the conveyance turning into the lane, the noisy occupants were hidden
+from sight and hearing to the kindly-faced, smiling lady, who, with a
+thick shawl wrapped about her shoulders, stood watching its departure on
+the hall steps.
+
+For some moments longer she remained silent, immovable, her eyes
+directed towards the distant gate. But her glance went far beyond. It
+had crossed the gulf of many years, and was searching the land of "Never
+More."
+
+At length the look on her face changed, and with a sigh she turned on
+her heel and re-entered the house.
+
+And how strangely silent it had suddenly become! It no longer rang with
+the joyous young voices that had echoed through it that morning,
+revelling in the freedom of the commencement of the Christmas holidays.
+
+Selina Martyn heaved another sigh; she missed her young charges; her
+resident French governess had left the previous day for her home at
+Neuilly; and now, with the exception of the servants, she had the house
+to herself, and she hated it.
+
+A feeling of depression was on her, but she fought against it; there was
+much to be done. Christmas would be on her in a couple of days, and no
+sooner would that be passed than the bills would pour in; and in order
+to satisfy them her own accounts must go out. Then there were all the
+rooms to be put straight, for schoolgirls are by no means the most tidy
+of beings. She had plenty of work before her, and she faced it.
+
+But evening came at last, and found her somewhat weary after her late
+dinner, and disinclined to do anything more, except sit in front of the
+blazing fire in her own little room and dream. Outside, the frost
+continued sharper than ever, and faintly there came to her ear the
+sounds of the distant bells practising for the coming festival, and once
+more for the second time that day her thoughts flew backwards over the
+mist of years.
+
+She was a lonely old woman, she told herself; and so she was, as far as
+relatives went, but miserable she was not. She was as bright and sunny
+as many of us, and a great deal more so than some. Her life had had its
+ups and downs, its bright and dark hours; but she had learnt to dwell on
+the former and put the latter in the background, hiding them under the
+mercies she had received; and so she became to be known in Stourton as
+"sunny Miss Martyn," and no name could have been more applicable.
+
+And as the flames roared up the chimney this winter night, she thought
+of the young hearts that had left her that morning and of their
+happiness that first night at home. She had known what that was herself.
+She had been a schoolgirl once--a schoolgirl in this very house, and had
+left it as they had left it that morning to return to a loving home. Her
+father had been well off in those days; she was his only child, and all
+he had to care for, her mother dying at her birth. They had been all in
+all to each other, and the days of her girlhood were the brightest of
+her life.
+
+He missed his "little sunbeam," as he called her, when she was away at
+Seaton Lodge--for it was called Seaton Lodge even then; but they made up
+for the separation when the holidays came and they were together once
+more, and more especially at Christmas-time, that season of parties and
+festivities. Mr. Martyn was a hospitable man, and his entertainments
+were many, and his neighbours and friends were not slow in returning
+his kindnesses; so that Christmas-time was a dream of excitement and
+delight as far as Selina was concerned.
+
+[Sidenote: A Bank Failure]
+
+But a break came to those happy times: a joint stock bank, in which Mr.
+Martyn had invested, failed, and he was ruined. The shock was more than
+his somewhat weak heart could stand, and it killed him.
+
+His daughter was just sixteen at the time, and the head pupil at Seaton
+Lodge. She was going to leave at the end of the half-year; but now all
+was changed. Instead of returning home to be mistress of her father's
+house, she would have to work for her living, and the opportunity for
+doing so came more quickly than she had dared to hope.
+
+With Miss Clayton, the mistress, she had been a favourite from the first
+day she had entered the school, and the former now made her the offer of
+remaining on as a pupil teacher. Without hesitation the girl accepted.
+She had no relatives; Seaton Lodge was her second home; she was loved
+there, and she would not be dependent; and from that hour never had she
+to regret her decision.
+
+When her father's affairs were settled up there remained but a few
+pounds a year for her, but these she was able to put by, for Miss
+Clayton was no niggard towards those that served her, and Selina
+received sufficient salary for clothes and pocket-money.
+
+After the first agony of the shock had passed away, her life was a happy
+if a quiet one. Her companions all loved her; she was to them a friend
+rather than a governess, and few were the holidays when she did not
+receive more than one invitation to spend part of them at the homes of
+some of her pupil friends.
+
+She had been a permanent resident at Seaton Lodge some three years when
+the romance of her life took place.
+
+Among the elder pupils at that time was Maude Elliott, whose father's
+house was not many miles distant from her friend's former home. She had
+taken a great fancy to Selina, and on several occasions had carried her
+off to spend a portion of the holidays with her, and it was at her home
+that she had made the acquaintance of Edgar Freeman, Maude's cousin. A
+young mining engineer, he had spent some years in Newfoundland, and had
+returned to complete his studies for his full diploma at the School of
+Mines, spending such time as he could spare at his uncle's house.
+
+Almost before she was aware of it, he had made a prisoner of the lonely
+little pupil-teacher's heart, and when she was convinced of the fact she
+fought against it, deeming herself a traitor to her friend, to whom she
+imagined he was attached, mistaking cousinly affection for something
+warmer.
+
+Then came that breaking-up for the Christmas holidays which she
+remembered so well, when she was to have followed Maude in a few days to
+her home, where she and Edgar would once more be together; and then the
+great disappointment when, two days before she was to have started, Miss
+Clayton was taken ill with pneumonia, and she had to stay and nurse her.
+
+How well she remembered that terrible time! It was the most dreary
+Christmas she had ever experienced--mild, dull, and sloppy, the rain
+falling by the hour, and fog blurring everything outside the house,
+while added to this was the anxiety she felt for the invalid.
+
+Christmas Day was the worst of the whole time; outside everything was
+wet and dripping, and even indoors the air felt raw and chilly,
+penetrating to the bones, and resulting in a continual state of shivers.
+There was no bright Christmas service for Selina that morning: she must
+remain at home and look after her charge, for, save the invalid, the
+servants and herself, the house was empty.
+
+But there was one glad moment for her--the arrival of the postman. He
+was late, of course, but when he did come he brought her a budget of
+letters and parcels that convinced her she was not forgotten by her
+absent schoolgirl friends. With a hasty glance over them, she put them
+on one side until after dinner, when, her patient having been seen to,
+she would have a certain amount of time to herself.
+
+But that one glance had been sufficient to bring a flush of pleasure to
+her cheeks, and to invest the gloomy day with a happiness that before
+was absent. She had recognised on one envelope an address in a bold,
+firm writing, very different from the neat, schoolgirl caligraphy of the
+rest; and when her hour of leisure arrived, and over a roaring fire she
+was able to examine her presents and letters, this one big envelope was
+reserved to the last.
+
+[Sidenote: Romance]
+
+Her fingers trembled as she opened the still damp covering, and saw a
+large card with a raised satin medallion in the centre, on which were
+printed two verses, the words of which caused the hot colour to remount
+to her cheeks, and her heart to redouble its beats.
+
+There was no mistaking the meaning of those lines; love breathed from
+every letter, and, with a hasty look round to make sure she was alone,
+the happy girl pressed the inanimate paper, satin, printer's ink, and
+colours to her lips as though in answer to the message it contained.
+
+The feeling of loneliness had vanished; there was some one who loved
+her, to whom she was dearer than all others, and the world looked
+different in consequence. It was a happy Christmas Day to her after all,
+in spite of her depressing surroundings; and Miss Clayton noticed the
+change in her young nurse, and in the evening, when thanking her for all
+she had done for her, hoped she had not found it "so very dull."
+
+That night Selina Martyn, foolish in her new-found happiness, placed the
+envelope, around which the damp still hung, beneath her pillow, and
+dreamed of the bright future she deemed in store for her.
+
+He would write to her, or perhaps come and see her; yes, he would come
+and see her, and let her hear from his own lips what his missive had so
+plainly hinted at. And in her happiness she waited. She waited, and
+waited till her heart grew sick with disappointed longing.
+
+The days passed, but never a word came from the one who had grown so
+dear to her, and as they passed the gladness faded from her face, and
+the light went out from her eyes.
+
+At last she could but feel that she had been mistaken. It was only a
+foolish joke that had meant nothing, and her heart grew hot within her.
+How could she have been so weak and silly as to have imagined such a
+thing? She put the envelope and its contents away, and, saddened and
+subdued, fought bravely to return to her former self.
+
+Miss Clayton made a slow recovery, and when convalescent went for a
+change to the sea, carrying off Selina with her, for she had noticed the
+change in the girl, and put it down to her labours in the sick-room.
+
+School-time commenced again, but without Maude Elliott as a pupil; she
+had gone to be "finished" to a school in Lausanne, and it was months
+before Selina received a letter from her, and then she only casually
+mentioned that her cousin Edgar had left them directly after Christmas
+for a good appointment in Brazil, where he expected to remain for some
+years.
+
+With that letter the last traces of Selina Martyn's romance ended. It
+had crossed her life like a shooting star, and had only left a
+remembrance behind.
+
+But that remembrance never entirely died; its sharp edge was dulled, and
+as the years went on--and in time she took Miss Clayton's place as the
+head of Seaton Lodge--she came to regard the unrequited bestowal of her
+young affections as an incident to be smiled over, without any
+vindictive feelings.
+
+And now, when the silver hairs were beginning to make their appearance
+among the ruddy gold, she would each Christmas take out from its
+hiding-place in the old-fashioned, brass-bound writing-desk the
+time-stained envelope, and compare the old-world design within with the
+modern and more florid cards, and in her heart of hearts she found more
+beauty in the simple wreath of holly with the couple of robins perched
+above and the bunch of mistletoe hanging below than in its more ornate
+followers of the present time.
+
+[Sidenote: Christmas Morning]
+
+It was Christmas morning--an ideal Christmas morning. The frost had been
+keen the previous night, and the branches of the trees had donned a
+sparkling white livery. The sun shone brightly, but there was little
+warmth in its rays, and the snow had crunched and chittered as "sunny
+Miss Martyn" had made her way over it to the church, smiling and sending
+bright glances to right and left of her, for there were few in Stourton
+with whom she was not acquainted. And now, her lunch over--she was going
+out to dinner that evening--she sat by the fire with a big pile of
+envelopes and parcels beside her. Her pupils never forgot her, and the
+day would have seemed incomplete to each one of them without a card
+despatched to Miss Martyn.
+
+Her bundle was a large one, and took some time to get through; and then
+the cards had all to be arranged on the mantelpiece. But at length her
+task was done, and as her custom was, she went to the brass-bound desk
+standing on a table in the corner, and, taking out the now worn
+envelope, resumed her seat by the fire.
+
+She had gazed on its contents on many a Christmas day before, but on
+this particular day--she never knew why--the memory of the sorrow it had
+caused her seemed keener, and she found the tears were gathering in her
+eyes, and that one of them had fallen on the edge of the satin medallion
+bearing the verses.
+
+With her handkerchief she wiped it away, but in doing so a fold of the
+cambric caught the filagree, and she learnt what she had never known
+before--that the medallion opened like a little door, and that below it
+a folded scrap of paper lay concealed.
+
+What could it mean?
+
+With fingers that trembled so much that they almost refused their task
+she took it out, unfolded it, and, spreading it flat, read the words
+that long years ago would have meant all the world to her.
+
+How cruel had Fate been to her to have hidden them for so long! But the
+thought only remained in her mind a moment, being blotted out by the
+remembrance that he was not heartless, as she had grown to believe.
+
+The faded lines before her laid a strong man's heart at her feet, and
+begged for her love in return, stating that he had been suddenly called
+to a distant post, and asking for an answer before he sailed. The writer
+felt he was presumptuous, but the exigencies of the case must be his
+excuse. If he had no reply he should know his pleading was in vain, and
+would trouble her no more; but if, on the other hand, she was not
+entirely indifferent to him, a line from her would bring him to her side
+to plead his cause in person. There was more in the letter, but this was
+its main purpose.
+
+And this was the end of if: two loving hearts divided and kept apart by
+a damp day and an accidental drop of gum.
+
+No wonder the tears flowed afresh, and "sunny Miss Martyn" belied her
+character.
+
+She was still bending over the sheet of paper spread out on her knee
+when, with a knock at the door, the servant entered, saying:
+
+"A gentleman to see you, Miss."
+
+Hastily brushing away the traces from her cheeks, Miss Martyn rose, to
+see a tall, grey-haired man standing in the doorway, regarding her with
+a bright smile on his face.
+
+She did not recognise him; he was a stranger to her, and yet----
+
+The next moment he strode forward with outstretched hand.
+
+"Selina Martyn, don't you know me? And you have altered so little!"
+
+A moment longer she stood in doubt, and then with a little gasp
+exclaimed:
+
+[Sidenote: "Edgar!"]
+
+"Edgar! Mr. Freeman--I--I didn't know you. You--you see, it is so long
+since--since I had that pleasure."
+
+And while she was speaking she was endeavouring with her foot to draw
+out of sight the paper that had fallen from her lap when she had risen.
+
+He noticed her apron, and with an "Excuse me" bent down, and, picking it
+up, laid it on the table. As he did so his eyes fell for a moment on the
+writing, and he started slightly, but did not refer to it.
+
+"Thank you," she said, and her cheeks had suddenly lost their colour,
+and her hand trembled as she indicated an armchair on the other side of
+the fireplace, saying, "Won't you sit down?"
+
+He did so, easily and naturally, as though paying an ordinary afternoon
+call.
+
+"Selina Martyn, you're looking remarkably well, and nearly as young as
+ever," he continued.
+
+She raised her eyes shyly, and smiled as she replied, "Do you really
+think so, Mr. Freeman?"
+
+"Call me Edgar, I like it better; and we've known each other long enough
+to account for your doing so." He did not give her a chance of
+objecting, but continued, "I only landed in England yesterday, and you
+are the first person I've called on. I got your address from my cousin,
+Mrs. Perry--Maud Elliott that was; she's living in Monte Video, you
+know; I saw her for a few hours as I passed through. Really, Selina,
+you're looking prettier than ever, I declare!"
+
+"You mustn't flatter an old woman, Mr. Freeman--well--Edgar, if you wish
+it. I don't think perhaps there is anything unmaidenly in my using your
+Christian name. We've known each other a great many years now, as you
+say."
+
+"We have indeed, my dear lady. And we might have known each other a
+great deal better if--if--well, if you had only seen your way to it. But
+there--that's all passed now. And yet----"
+
+"Yes, that's all passed now." And Selina gave a little sigh, yet loud
+enough for her visitor to hear it, and he moved his chair from the side
+to the front of the fire as she continued, "Do you know--Edgar--just
+before you came in I made a discovery--I found something that reached me
+a day or two before you sailed, and that I had never seen till half an
+hour ago," and she looked down at her fingers that were playing with the
+end of the delicate lace fichu she was wearing.
+
+A smile came over her visitor's face, but he only said:
+
+"'Pon my word, Selina, you're a very beautiful woman! I've carried your
+face in my memory all these years, but I see now how half-blind I must
+have been."
+
+"You mustn't talk nonsense to an old woman like me. I want to tell you
+something, and I don't know how to do it."
+
+"Don't try. Let me guess, and you tell me if I'm right."
+
+Miss Martyn did not answer in words, only bowed her head, and he
+continued, with a glance at the paper lying on the table:
+
+"You once received what you considered a very impertinent letter from
+me?"
+
+"I don't think impertinent is the right term," replied Selina, not
+raising her eyes.
+
+"Then, my dear lady, why did you not let me have an answer?"
+
+"Oh, Edgar, I only discovered it a few minutes before you came," and
+casting aside all reserve, she told him of the unfortunate combination
+of the damp Christmas morning and the drop of gum that had so
+disastrously separated them.
+
+Long before the recital was complete her visitor had shifted his
+chair again and again until it was close beside her own.
+
+"You poor, dear woman!" he exclaimed, as his arm stole quietly round her
+waist, and Miss Martyn suffered it to remain there.
+
+"Why did you hide your letter inside, Edgar?" she asked quietly.
+
+"I suppose because I didn't want to startle you, and thought you should
+see the verses first. May I see it now?" he continued. "It's so long
+since I wrote it, you see."
+
+"Yes, you may see it," replied Selina, without raising her eyes; "but
+it's all passed now," with another little sigh.
+
+His disengaged hand had secured the letter, and hastily glancing over
+the writing, he exclaimed with sudden fervour:
+
+[Sidenote: "I'm Waiting!"]
+
+"No, Selina! Every word I wrote then I mean to-day. When I left England
+years ago it was with your image in my heart, and with the determination
+that when I was rich I would come back and try my luck again. And in my
+heart you, and you alone, have reigned ever since. And when after long
+years I heard from my cousin that you might still be found at Seaton
+Lodge, you don't know what that meant to me. It made a boy of me again.
+It blotted out all the years that have divided us, and here I am waiting
+for my answer."
+
+"Oh, Edgar, we mustn't be silly. Remember, we're no longer boy and
+girl."
+
+"I remember nothing of the kind. All I remember is that it's Christmas
+Day, that I've asked you a question, and that I am waiting for the
+answer you would have given me years ago but for the damp and a drop of
+gum. You know what it would have been then; give me it now. Dearest, I'm
+waiting."
+
+And Selina Martyn gave her answer, an all-sufficient one to both.
+
+[Illustration: SELINA MARTYN GAVE HER ANSWER.]
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Young people, read and take warning by this awful example.]
+
+Whilst Waiting for the Motor
+
+BY
+
+MADELINE OYLER
+
+
+Her name was Isabel, and she really was a very nice, good little
+girl--when she remembered. But you can't always remember, you know; you
+wouldn't be a little girl if you could, and this happened on one of
+those days when she didn't remember.
+
+Of course Peter forgot too; but then you would expect him to, for he was
+only a boy, and boys, as I suppose you know, cannot use their brains in
+the way that girls can.
+
+The two had spent their morning in the usual way, had breakfast, fed the
+rabbits, said "Good-morning" to the horses, got mother a bunch of
+flowers from their own gardens (Isabel's turn this morning), seen daddy
+off, and then had lessons.
+
+You wouldn't have guessed for a moment that it was going to be a bad
+day; everything had gone well. Peter had actually remembered that Madrid
+was the capital of Spain, always a rather doubtful question with him;
+and Isabel had said her eight times with only two mistakes, and they
+were slight ones.
+
+So you may imagine they were feeling very happy and good, because it was
+a half-holiday, and, best of all, because Auntie May was coming over
+with her big motor at three o'clock, to take them back to tea with
+grandpapa.
+
+I should like you to understand that it was not just an ordinary tea,
+but a special one; for it was grandpapa's birthday, and, as perhaps you
+know, grandpapas don't often have birthday parties, so it was a great
+occasion.
+
+[Sidenote: Presents]
+
+It had taken a long time to choose his presents, but at last they were
+decided.
+
+Isabel had made him a blue silk shaving tidy, with "Shaving" worked in
+pink across it. The "h-a-v" of "Shaving" were rather smaller than the
+other letters, because, after she had drawn a large "S," she was afraid
+there would not be room for such big letters. Afterwards she found there
+was plenty of room, so she did "i-n-g" bigger to make up for it.
+
+After all, it really didn't matter unless you were _very_ particular;
+and of course you wouldn't see that the stitches showed rather badly on
+the inside unless you opened it. Besides, as grandpapa grew a beard, and
+didn't shave at all, he wouldn't want to look inside.
+
+Peter had bought a knife for him; being a boy, and therefore rather
+helpless, he was not able to make him anything. He did begin to carve
+grandpapa a wooden ship, although Isabel pointed out to him that
+grandpapa would never sail it; but Peter thought he might like to have
+it just to look at.
+
+However, just at an important part the wood split; so after all it had
+to be a knife, which of course is always useful.
+
+These presents were kept very secret; not even mother was allowed to
+know what they were.
+
+Three o'clock seemed such a long time coming--you know how slow it _can_
+be. But at half-past two nurse took them up to dress. Peter had a nice
+white serge suit, and nurse had put out a clean starched muslin for
+Isabel, but she (being rather a vain little girl) begged for her white
+silk.
+
+I ought to explain about this frock. One of her aunties sent it to her
+on her last birthday. It was quite the most beautiful little dress you
+ever saw--thick white silk embroidered with daisies. Isabel loved it
+dearly, but was only allowed to wear it on very great occasions.
+
+Well, when she asked if she might put it on, nurse said she thought it
+would be wiser not to. "You won't be able to run about and climb trees
+at your grandpapa's if you do, Miss Isabel."
+
+"But I shan't want to," replied Isabel, "for it is a grown-up party, and
+we shall only sit and talk."
+
+So after all she was allowed to wear it, and with that on and a
+beautiful new sash her Uncle Dick had just sent her from India, she felt
+a very smart little girl indeed.
+
+The shaving tidy she had done up in a parcel, and Peter had the knife in
+his pocket, so they were quite ready, and as they went down to the hall
+the clock struck three.
+
+Alas! there was no motor waiting; instead there was mother with a
+telegram in her hand saying that Auntie May couldn't come for them till
+four o'clock.
+
+What a disappointment! A whole hour longer to wait! What were they to do
+with themselves?
+
+Mother suggested that they should sit down quietly and read, but who can
+possibly sit and read when a big motor is coming soon to fetch them?
+
+So mother very kindly said they might go out in the garden.
+
+"Only remember," she said, "you are not to run about and get hot and
+untidy; and keep on the paths, don't go on the grass."
+
+So out they went, Isabel hugging her precious parcel. She was afraid to
+leave it in the hall lest mother should see it and guess by the shape
+what it was, which of course would spoil it all.
+
+They strolled round the garden, peeped at the rabbits and a brood of
+baby chickens just hatched, then wandered on down the drive.
+
+"Can't we play something?" suggested Isabel--"something quite clean and
+quiet with no running in it."
+
+Peter thought for some time, then he said: "I don't believe there are
+any games like that." Being a boy, you see, he couldn't think of one, so
+he said he didn't think there were any.
+
+[Sidenote: Follow-my-leader]
+
+"Yes, there are," said Isabel, "heaps of them, only I can't think of
+one. Oh, I know, follow my leader, walking, not running, and of course
+not on the grass. I'll be leader."
+
+So off they started, and great fun it was. Isabel led into such queer
+places--the potting-house, tool-shed, laundry, and even into the dairy
+once. Then it was Peter's turn, and he went through the chicken-run,
+stable-yard, and kitchen-garden, and then down the drive.
+
+When he got to the gate he hesitated, then started off down the road.
+
+"Ought we to go down here, do you think?" asked Isabel, plodding along
+behind him.
+
+"Oh, yes, it's all right," Peter said; "we're keeping off the grass and
+not running, and that's all mother told us," and on they went.
+
+After walking for a little way, Peter turned off down a side lane, a
+favourite walk of theirs in summer, and Isabel followed obediently.
+
+Unfortunately, for the last three days it had rained heavily, and the
+deep cart-ruts on both sides of the road were full of thick, muddy
+water.
+
+In trying to walk along the top of one of them, Peter's foot slipped,
+and, before he could prevent it, in it went, right over the top of his
+nice patent-leather shoe.
+
+Isabel, who was following close behind, intently copying her leader in
+all his movements, plopped hers in too.
+
+"Goodness, what a mess!" said Peter, surveying his muddy foot. "How
+awful it looks! I think I shall make the other one dirty too, then it
+won't look so bad."
+
+So in went each clean foot.
+
+And then it was, I am sorry to say, that Isabel forgot to be good. You
+remember I told you that she did sometimes?
+
+She said: "Now that our feet are dirty, let's paddle, they can't look
+worse, and it's such fun!" And as Peter thought so too, paddle they did,
+up and down the dirty, muddy cart-ruts.
+
+Presently Peter's white suit and even his clean tie were spotted with
+mud, and Isabel's beautiful little dress was soaked with muddy water all
+round the bottom, and, saddest of all, her new sash was dragging behind
+her in the water, quite spoilt; but they were so excited that they
+neither of them noticed how they were spoiling their clothes, or that
+the parcel with the shaving-tidy in it had been dropped and stamped down
+into the mud.
+
+They were in the middle of the fun when suddenly they heard in the
+distance the "toot-toot" of a motor-horn, and, looking at each other in
+dismay, they realised it must be Auntie May come to fetch them.
+
+"We shall have to change first," gasped Isabel, as they hurried along
+the road. "I'm afraid we look rather messy!"
+
+Peter said nothing; he was feeling too miserable.
+
+It was a sad sight that met nurse's horrified eyes as she hurried
+anxiously out through the gates in search of them, having hunted the
+garden in vain; and it was a very shamefaced little pair that hastened
+by the big motor at the front door and into the hall, where they found
+mother and Auntie May waiting.
+
+Isabel and Peter really did feel more sorry and ashamed than I can tell
+you, and, grievous though it be, mother and Auntie May went to tea with
+grandpapa, but Peter and Isabel went to bed!
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: The story of a hard heart, a little child, and a kind
+friend.]
+
+The Grumpy Man
+
+BY
+
+MRS. HARTLEY PERKS
+
+
+It was past nine on a winter's evening. Through the misty gloom a tenor
+voice rang clear and resonant. The singer stood on the edge of the
+pavement, guitar in hand, with upturned coat-collar, a wide-brimmed soft
+hat sheltering his face.
+
+          "I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
+             To pine on the stem:
+           Since the lovely are sleeping,
+             Go sleep thou with them.
+           Thus kindly I scatter
+             Thy leaves o'er the bed,
+           Where thy mates of the garden
+             Lie scentless and dead.
+
+           So soon may I follow
+             When friendships decay,
+           And from love's shining circle
+             The gems drop away.
+           When true hearts lie withered,
+             And fond ones are flown,
+           Oh! who would inhabit
+             This bleak world alone?"
+
+The well-placed voice and accent were those of an educated man. The
+words of the old song, delivered clearly with true musical feeling, were
+touched with a thrill of passion.
+
+The thread of the melody was abruptly cut off by a sudden mad clatter of
+hoofs. A carriage dashed wildly along and swerved round the corner. The
+singer dropped his instrument and sprang at the horse's bridle. A
+moment's struggle, and he fell by the curb-stone dazed and shaken, but
+the runaway was checked and the footman was down at his head, while the
+coachman tightened his rein.
+
+The singer struggled to his feet. The brougham window was lowered, and a
+clear-cut feminine face leaned forward.
+
+"Thank you very much," said a cool, level voice, in a tone suitable to
+the recovery of some fallen trifle.
+
+"Williamson"--to the coachman--"give this man half a crown, and drive
+on."
+
+While Williamson fumbled in his pocket for the money, the singer gave
+one glance at the proud, cold face framed by the carriage window, then
+turned hurriedly away.
+
+"Hey, David!" called the coachman to the groom. "Give her her head and
+jump up. She'll be all right now. Whoa--whoa, old girl. That chap's
+gone--half-crowns ain't seemingly in his line. Steady, old girl!" And
+the carriage disappeared into the night.
+
+The singer picked up his guitar and leant on the railings. He was shaken
+and faint. Something seemed amiss with his left hand. He laid his
+forehead against the cool iron and drew a deep breath, muttering--
+
+"It was she! When I heard her cold, cruel voice I thanked God I am as I
+am. Thank God for my child and a sacred memory----"
+
+"Are you hurt?" asked a friendly voice.
+
+The singer looked up to see a man standing hatless above him on the
+steps of the house. He strove to reply, but his tongue refused to act;
+he swayed while rolling waves of blackness encompassed him. He
+staggered blindly forward, then sank into darkness--and for him time was
+not.
+
+When consciousness returned his eyes opened upon a glint of firelight, a
+shaded lamp on a table by which sat a man with bent head writing. It was
+a fine head, large and massive, the hair full and crisp. A rugged hand
+grasped the pen with decision, and there was no hesitation in its rapid
+movement.
+
+The singer lay for a moment watching the bent head, when it suddenly
+turned, and a pair of remarkably keen grey eyes met his own.
+
+"Ah, you are better! That's right!" Rising, the writer went to a
+cupboard against the wall, whence he brought a decanter and glass.
+
+"I am a doctor," he said kindly. "Luckily I was handy, or you might have
+had a bad fall."
+
+The singer tried to rise.
+
+"Don't move for a few moments," continued the doctor, holding a glass to
+his lips. "Drink this, and you will soon be all right again."
+
+The singer drank, and after a pause glanced inquiringly at his left
+hand, which lay bound up at his side.
+
+"Only a sprain," said the doctor, answering his glance. "I saw how it
+happened. Scant thanks, eh?"
+
+The singer sat up and his eyes flashed.
+
+[Sidenote: "I want no Thanks!"]
+
+"I wanted no thanks from her," he muttered bitterly.
+
+"How is that?" questioned the doctor. "You knew the lady?"
+
+"Yes, I knew her. The evil she has brought me can never be blotted out
+by rivers of thanks!"
+
+The doctor's look questioned his sanity.
+
+"I fail to understand," he remarked simply.
+
+"My name is Waldron, Philip Waldron," went on the singer. "You have a
+right to my name."
+
+"Not connected with Waldron the great financier?" again questioned the
+doctor.
+
+"His son. There is no reason to hide the truth from you. You have been
+very kind--more than kind. I thank you."
+
+"But I understood Waldron had only one son, and he died some years
+ago--I attended him."
+
+"Waldron had two sons, Lucien and Philip. I am Philip."
+
+"But----"
+
+"I can well understand your surprise. My father gave me scant
+thought--his soul was bound up in my elder brother."
+
+"But why this masquerade?"
+
+"It is no masquerade," returned the singer sadly. "I sing to eke out my
+small salary as clerk in a city firm. My abilities in that way do not
+command a high figure," he added, with a bitter laugh.
+
+"Then your father----?"
+
+"Sent me adrift because I refused to marry that woman whose carriage I
+stopped to-night."
+
+The doctor made an expression of surprise.
+
+"Yes, it seems strange I should come across her in that fashion, doesn't
+it? The sight of her has touched old sores."
+
+Philip Waldron's eyes gleamed as he fixed them on the doctor's face.
+
+"I will tell you something of my story--if you wish it."
+
+"Say on."
+
+"As a young man at home I was greatly under my father's influence.
+Perhaps because of his indifference I was the more anxious to please
+him. At all events, urged by him, but with secret reluctance, I proposed
+and was accepted by that lady whose carriage I stopped to-night. She was
+rich, beautiful, but I did not love her. I know my conduct was weak, it
+was ignoble--but I did her no wrong. For me she had not one spark of
+affection. My prospective wealth was the bait."
+
+Waldron paused, and drew his hand across his eyes. "Then--then I met the
+girl who in the end became my wife. That she was poor was an
+insurmountable barrier in my father's eyes. I sought freedom from my
+hateful engagement in vain. I need not trouble you with all the story.
+Suffice it that I left home and married the woman I loved. My father's
+anger was overwhelming. We were never forgiven. When my brother died I
+hoped for some sign from my father, but he made none. And now my wife
+also is dead."
+
+"And you are alone in the world?" asked the doctor, who had followed his
+story with interest.
+
+Philip Waldron's face lit up with a rarely winning smile.
+
+"No," he said, "I have a little girl." Then the smile faded, as he
+added, "She is a cripple."
+
+"And have you never appealed to your father?"
+
+[Sidenote: Unopened Letters]
+
+"While my wife lived--many times. For her sake I threw pride aside, but
+my letters were always returned unopened."
+
+The doctor sat silent for some time. Then steadfastly regarding the
+young man, he said--
+
+"My name is Norman. I have known and attended your father now for a good
+many years. I was at your brother's death-bed. I never heard him mention
+a second son."
+
+Philip sighed. "No, I suppose not. I am as dead to him now."
+
+"You are indifferent?"
+
+"Pardon me; not indifferent, only hopeless. Had there been any chance
+for me, it came when my brother died."
+
+"For the sake of your child will you not appeal once more?"
+
+Philip's face softened. "For my child I would do much. Thank God,"
+glancing at his left hand, "my right is uninjured. My city work is safe.
+Singing is not my profession, you know," he added, with a dreary smile.
+"I only sing to buy luxuries for my lame little one."
+
+Rising, he held out his hand.
+
+"You have been a true Samaritan, Dr. Norman. I sincerely thank you."
+
+The doctor took the outstretched hand.
+
+"May I help you further?" he asked.
+
+"I don't see well how you can, but I will take the will for the deed."
+
+"But you do not forbid me to try?"
+
+Philip shook his head despondingly. "You may try, certainly. Matters
+cannot be worse than they are; only you will waste valuable time."
+
+"Let me be judge of that. May I come to see you?"
+
+Philip hesitated; then, when urged, gave his address, but in a manner
+indicating that he never expected it to be used.
+
+Dr. Norman, however, was a man of his word. A few days after that chance
+meeting found him toiling up the steep stairs of block C in Dalmatian
+Buildings, Marylebone, having ascertained below that the Waldrons' rooms
+were on the top floor.
+
+"There had need be good air when one gets to the surface here," groaned
+the doctor, when he reached the top, and paused to recover breath before
+knocking.
+
+Sounds came from within--a light, childish laugh, a patter of talk. In
+response to his knock, a step accompanied by the tap-tap of a crutch
+came across the wooden floor. After some hesitation the door was opened
+by a pale, brown-eyed child of about seven. A holland pinafore reached
+to her feet, the right side hitched up by the crutch under that arm, on
+which she leant heavily. Dark, wavy hair fell over her shoulders,
+framing a pale, oval face, out of which shone a pair of bright,
+wide-open eyes.
+
+She remained in the doorway looking up at the doctor.
+
+[Illustration: "I SUPPOSE YOU'VE COME ABOUT THE GAS BILL."]
+
+"I suppose you've come about the gas bill," she said at length, with an
+old-womanish air, "but it's no use. Father is out, and I have only
+sixpence. It's my own, but you can have it if you promise to take care
+of it."
+
+"I'm a doctor, and a friend of your father's," replied Norman, with a
+reassuring smile.
+
+The child at once moved aside.
+
+[Sidenote: A Real Live Visitor]
+
+"Please come in. I've just been playing with my dolls for visitors, but
+it will be much nicer to have a real live one."
+
+The room the doctor entered was small, but cheerful; the floor
+uncarpeted, but clean, and the window framed a patch of sky over the
+chimney-pots below. A table stood near the window, by it two chairs on
+which lay two dolls.
+
+"Come to the window," requested the child, tap-tapping over the floor.
+"Lucretia and Flora, rise at once to greet a stranger," she cried
+reproachfully to the dolls, lifting them as she spoke.
+
+She stood waiting until Dr. Norman was seated, then drew a chair facing
+him and sat down. Her keen, intelligent glance searched him over, then
+dwelt upon his face.
+
+"Are you a good doctor?" she asked.
+
+"Why do you want to know?"
+
+"Because father says doctors are good, and I wondered if you were. You
+must not mind my dollies being rather rude. It is difficult to teach
+them manners so high up."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Well, you see, they have no society but my own, because they have to be
+in bed before father comes home."
+
+"And do you never go out?"
+
+"Sometimes on Sundays father carries me downstairs, and when we can
+afford it he hires a cab to take me to the Park. But, you see, we can't
+always afford it," with a wise shake of the head.
+
+"Poor child!"
+
+"Why do you say 'poor child' in that voice? I'm not a poor child. I got
+broken--yes--and was badly mended, dad says, but I'm not a 'poor child.'
+Poor childs have no dolls, and no funny insides like me."
+
+The doctor smiled. "What sort of inside is that?"
+
+"Well, you see, I have no outside little friends, and so my friends live
+inside me. I make new ones now and then, when the old ones get dull, but
+I like the old ones best myself."
+
+At that moment a step sounded on the stairs; the child's face lit up
+with a look which made her beautiful.
+
+"That's father!" she exclaimed, and starting up, hastened as fast as her
+crutch would permit to the door.
+
+Waldron stooped to kiss tenderly the sweet, welcoming face held up to
+his, then he grasped Dr. Norman's hand.
+
+"So, doctor, you are true," he said with feeling. "You do not promise
+and forget."
+
+"I am the slower to promise," returned Dr. Norman. "I have just been
+making acquaintance with your little maid."
+
+"My little Sophy!"
+
+"Yes, father?"
+
+Waldron passed a caressing hand over the child's head.
+
+"We two want to talk, dear, so you must go into your own little room."
+
+"Yes, father; but I will bid goodbye to this doctor first," she said,
+with a quaint air, offering Dr. Norman a thin little hand.
+
+As the door closed upon her Waldron remarked rather bitterly, "You see I
+told the truth."
+
+"My dear fellow," cried the doctor, "I did not doubt you for a moment! I
+came this afternoon to tell you I have seen your father--he sent for me.
+He is not well. He seems troubled more than his illness warrants. Can it
+be that under that callous manner he hides regret for the past?"
+
+Philip sighed.
+
+"You must be ever present to his memory," went on the doctor. "It might
+be possible to touch his feelings."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Through your child--nay, hear me out. No harm shall come to her; I
+would not propose it did I believe such a thing possible."
+
+"But it might mean separation. No, doctor, let us struggle along--she at
+least is happy."
+
+"For the present, yes, but for how long? She will not always remain a
+child. Have you had a good medical opinion in regard to her lameness?"
+
+"The best I could afford at the time."
+
+"And----?"
+
+"It was unfavourable to trying any remedy; but that was not long after
+her mother's death."
+
+"May I examine her?"
+
+Waldron's glad eagerness was eloquent of thanks.
+
+When Dr. Norman left those upper rooms there was a light long absent on
+Philip's face as he drew his lame child within his arms.
+
+[Sidenote: Sophy takes a Drive]
+
+In a few days the doctor called again at Dalmatian Buildings, and
+carried Sophy off in his carriage, the child all excitement at the
+change and novelty.
+
+After a short drive Dr. Norman said, "Now, Sophy, I have a rather
+serious case on hand, and I am going to leave you for a little at a
+friend's, and call for you again later. You won't mind?"
+
+"I think not. I shall be better able to tell you after I have been."
+
+The doctor laughed.
+
+"You see," went on Sophy, with a wise nod of her little head, "you can't
+tell how you will like things until you try them--now, can you?"
+
+"No, certainly not. So you can tell me how you get on as I drive you
+home."
+
+"Is this your serious case or mine?" asked Sophy anxiously, as the
+carriage drew up at a large house in a West-End square.
+
+"This is where I hope to leave you," returned the doctor, smiling. "But
+you must wait until I find if it be convenient for me to do so."
+
+Dr. Norman was shown into the library, where by the fire in an arm-chair
+sat an old man, one foot supported on a stool before him. His face was
+drawn and pinched, and his temper none of the sweetest, to judge by the
+curt response he made to the doctor's greeting.
+
+"You are late this morning," was his sole remark.
+
+"I may be slightly--but you are fast becoming independent of my care."
+
+An unamiable grunt was the old man's reply.
+
+When a few medical questions had been put and answered, Dr. Norman
+placed himself on the hearthrug, looking down at his patient as he drew
+on his gloves.
+
+"You are much better," he said cheerfully.
+
+"Oh, you think so, do you? Well, I don't."
+
+"Yes, I think so. I should like to prescribe you change of scene, Mr.
+Waldron."
+
+"Want to be rid of me, I suppose. Well, I'm not going!"
+
+"Change of thought might do equally well."
+
+"I'm likely to get it, chained here by the leg, ain't I?"
+
+"Well, change of thought comes by association, and is quite available;
+in fact, at the present moment I have in my carriage a small person who
+has given me much change of thought this morning."
+
+"I can't see what good your change of thought will do me!" growled Mr.
+Waldron.
+
+Dr. Norman regarded him speculatively.
+
+"I wonder if you would do me a favour. I have rather a serious case on
+the other side of the square, will take me about half an hour; might I
+leave my small friend here for that time?"
+
+"What! in this room?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Nonsense! You don't mean to bring a child in here!"
+
+"Again I say, why not? She will amuse and interest you."
+
+"Well, of all the----"
+
+"Don't excite yourself, Mr. Waldron. You know how bad that is for you."
+
+"You are giving me some change of thought with a vengeance, doctor! Why
+should you bring a nasty brat to disturb me?"
+
+[Sidenote: Some Amusement]
+
+"I only offered you some amusement----"
+
+"Amusement be hanged! You know I hate children."
+
+"I know you say so."
+
+Mr. Waldron growled.
+
+"She is not so very small," went on the doctor--"about seven or eight, I
+think."
+
+"Humph! Young enough to be a nuisance! A girl, eh?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Girls are not so bad as boys," he admitted.
+
+"No, so some people think--good-morning." Dr. Norman went towards the
+door.
+
+"A girl, you say?" growled old Mr. Waldron again.
+
+"Yes; good-morning."
+
+"I say, don't be in such a hurry!"
+
+"I really cannot stay longer at present; goodbye."
+
+Dr. Norman opened the door and stood within it. Old Mr. Waldron fidgeted
+in his chair, muttering--
+
+"Horrid child! Hate children! Perfect nuisance!"
+
+The doctor partly closed the door.
+
+"I say, have you gone?" cried the old man, glancing round. "Dr. Norman,"
+he called suddenly, "you can bring that brat in if it will be any
+pleasure to you, and if you find me dead in half an hour my death will
+lie at your door!"
+
+The doctor at once accepted this grudging concession, and hastening to
+the carriage, brought Sophy back in his arms.
+
+"What the----" called out old Mr. Waldron when he saw the child. "Is she
+ill?"
+
+"Oh, no, only lame," replied the doctor, as he placed his burden in a
+chair opposite to the old man.
+
+"Now, Sophy," he admonished, "you will be a pleasant companion to this
+gentleman until my return."
+
+Sophy eyed her neighbour doubtfully.
+
+"I'll try to," she replied, and so the doctor left them.
+
+For some time this strangely assorted pair eyed each other in silence.
+At length Sophy's gaze rested on the old man's foot where it lay in its
+large slipper on the stool before him.
+
+"I see you are broken too," she said in a sympathetic voice. "It isn't
+really pleasant to be broken, is it, although we try to pretend we don't
+care, don't we?"
+
+"No, it isn't exactly pleasant," replied Mr. Waldron, and a half-smile
+flickered over his face. "How did you get broken?"
+
+"Somebody let me fall, father says, and afterwards I was only
+half-mended. It is horrid to be only a half-mended thing--but some
+people are so stupid, you know."
+
+Mr. Waldron grunted.
+
+"Does it hurt you to speak that you make that funny noise?" asked Sophy
+curiously.
+
+"I'm an old man, and I do as I like."
+
+"Oh! When I'm an old woman may I do as I like?"
+
+"I suppose so," grudgingly.
+
+"Then I shall be an awfully nice old woman; I shouldn't like to be cross
+and ugly. I don't like ugly people, and there are so many going about
+loose. I am always so glad I like my father's face."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I have to see it every, every day. Have you anybody whose face
+you like?"
+
+"No; I haven't."
+
+"What a pity! I wonder if you like mine--or perhaps you would like
+father's. It does seem a shame you shouldn't have somebody."
+
+"I do very well without."
+
+"Oh no, I'm sure you don't," replied Sophy with deep concern. "You may
+do somehow, but you can't do well."
+
+"What's your father like?" asked Mr. Waldron, amused in spite of
+himself.
+
+"My father's like a song," returned Sophy, as though she had given the
+subject much reflection.
+
+"A song! How's that?"
+
+"Sometimes he is gay--full of jokes and laughter, sometimes he is sad,
+and I cry softly to myself in bed; but he is always beautiful, you
+know--like a song."
+
+"And your mother?"
+
+[Sidenote: "It is Lonely Sometimes"]
+
+"I haven't got a mother," replied Sophy sadly. "That's where I'm only
+half like other little girls. My mother was frightened, and so was the
+little brother who was coming to play with me. They were both
+frightened, and so they ran away back again to God. I wish they had
+stayed--it is lonely sometimes."
+
+"But you have your father."
+
+"Yes, only father is away all day, and I sit such a lot at our window."
+
+"But you have no pain, have you?" Mr. Waldron questioned with interest.
+
+"No," answered Sophy, sighing faintly. "Only a pain in my little mind."
+
+"Ah! my pain is in my toe, and I expect hurts a deal more than yours.
+What's your father about that he leaves you alone and doesn't have you
+seen to, eh?"
+
+Sophy's face blazed. "How dare you speak in that voice of my father!"
+she cried. "He is the kindest and best, and works for me until he is
+quite thin and pale. Do you work for anybody? I don't think you do," she
+added scornfully, "you look too fat!"
+
+"You haven't much respect for grey hairs, young lady."
+
+"Grey hairs, why?" asked Sophy, still ruffled.
+
+Mr. Waldron took refuge in platitudes.
+
+"I have always been taught that the young should respect age, of which
+grey hair is an emblem."
+
+"How funny!" said Sophy, leaning forward to look more closely at her
+companion. "To think of so much meaning in those tufts behind your ears!
+I always thought what was inside mattered--not the outside. How much
+silly people must long to have grey hairs, that they may be respected. I
+must ask father if that is true."
+
+"I suppose you respect your father?" said Mr. Waldron severely.
+
+"Oh, no," replied Sophy. "I only _love_ him. I think the feeling I have
+for the gas man must be respect. Yes, I think it must be, there is
+something so disagreeable about it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, you see, he so often comes when father is out and asks for money,
+just as if money grew on our floor, then he looks at me and goes away
+grumbling. I think it must be respect I feel when I see his back going
+downstairs."
+
+Mr. Waldron laughed. "You are a queer little girl!" he said.
+
+"Yes, I suppose I am," answered Sophy resignedly. "Only I hope I'm not
+unpleasant."
+
+When Dr. Norman returned he found the child and his patient on the best
+of terms. After placing Sophy in the carriage, he came back at Mr.
+Waldron's request for a few words.
+
+"That's a funny child," began the old man, glancing up at the doctor.
+"She actually made me laugh! What are you going to do with her?"
+
+"Take her home."
+
+"Humph! I suppose I couldn't--couldn't----?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Buy her?"
+
+"Good gracious, Mr. Waldron! We are in the twentieth century!"
+
+"Pity, isn't it! But there are many ways of buying without paying cash.
+See what you can do. She amuses me. I'll come down handsomely for her."
+
+"Well, you must let me think it over," replied the doctor in his most
+serious manner, but he smiled as he shut the library door.
+
+An evening shortly afterwards Dr. Norman again called on old Mr.
+Waldron. He found his patient much better, and seated at his
+writing-table, from which he glanced up quite briskly to inquire--
+
+"Well, have you brought our queer little friend again?"
+
+"Not this time, but I have come to know if you will help me."
+
+"Got some interesting boy up your sleeve this time, have you?"
+
+"No, only the same girl. I want to cure her lameness."
+
+"Is that possible?"
+
+"I believe quite possible, but it will mean an operation and probably a
+slow recovery."
+
+"You don't want me to operate, I suppose?"
+
+The doctor smiled. "Only as friend and helper. I will do the deed
+myself."
+
+Old Mr. Waldron growled. "Flaunting your good deeds to draw this badger,
+eh? Well, where do I come in?"
+
+[Sidenote: Dr. Norman's Proposal]
+
+"Let me bring the child here. Let her be cared for under your roof. Her
+father is poor--he cannot afford nurses and the paraphernalia of a
+sick-room."
+
+"So I am to turn my house into a hospital for the sick brat of nobody
+knows who--a likely tale! Why, I haven't even heard the father's name!"
+
+"He is my friend, let that suffice."
+
+"It doesn't suffice!" roared the old man, working himself into a rage.
+"I call it pretty cool that you should come here and foist your charity
+brats on me!"
+
+Dr. Norman took up his hat.
+
+"You requested me to see if the father would allow you to adopt the
+child----"
+
+"Adopt; did I say adopt?"
+
+"No; you used a stronger term--'buy,' I think it was."
+
+Old Mr. Waldron grunted. "I said nothing about nurses and carving up
+legs."
+
+"No, these are only incidents by the way. Well, good-evening." Dr.
+Norman opened the door.
+
+"Why are you in such haste?" demanded Mr. Waldron.
+
+"I have people waiting for me," returned the doctor curtly. "I am only
+wasting time here. Good-night."
+
+He went outside, but ere his hand left the door a call from within
+reached him.
+
+"Come back, you old touch-flint!" cried Mr. Waldron. "You are trying to
+force my hand--I know you! Well, I'll yield. Let that uncommonly queer
+child come here; only remember I am to have no trouble, no annoyance.
+Make your own arrangements--but don't bother me!"
+
+So it came to pass that little Sophy Waldron was received into her
+grandfather's house all unknowing that it was her grandfather's.
+
+He saw her for a few moments on the day of her arrival.
+
+"I hear you are going to be made strong and well," was the old man's
+greeting.
+
+"Yes," returned Sophy, with a wise look. "They are going to try and mend
+me straight. I hope they won't make a mistake this time. Mistakes are so
+vexatious."
+
+"When you are well would you like to live with me? I want a little girl
+about the house."
+
+"What for? You have lots and lots of people to do things for you."
+
+Mr. Waldron sighed. "I would like somebody to do things without being
+paid for their work."
+
+"Oh, I understand," replied Sophy. "Well, I'll see how my leg turns out,
+and if father thinks you a nice old man--of course it will all depend on
+father."
+
+"Confound it! I forgot the father!"
+
+"You mustn't say naughty words, Mr. Sir," remonstrated Sophy, shaking a
+forefinger at him. "And you mustn't speak horrid of my father; I love
+him."
+
+[Sidenote: "Could you Love me?"]
+
+Old Mr. Waldron regarded her wistfully. "Do you think you could love me,
+Sophy?"
+
+The child eyed him critically.
+
+"I like you in bits," she replied. "But perhaps the good bits may
+spread, then I should like you very much."
+
+Just then the doctor came to take her to the room prepared, where a
+pleasant-faced nurse was in waiting.
+
+Some hours afterwards, when Dr. Norman's task was done, and poor little
+Sophy lay white but peaceful on her bed, she looked up at the nurse,
+saying with a whimsical smile--
+
+"I should like to see the grumpy man."
+
+"And so you shall, my dear," was the nurse's hasty assurance. "Whoever
+can that be?" she muttered under her breath.
+
+"Why, the grumpy man downstairs," reiterated Sophy.
+
+"Would it be right?" questioned her father, who knelt by the bed,
+holding a small hand clasped firmly in his own.
+
+"I'll see what the doctor says," replied the nurse, retiring into the
+adjoining room.
+
+She speedily returned to say that Dr. Norman would go down himself to
+bring up old Mr. Waldron.
+
+Sophy turned a pale face contentedly to her father.
+
+"Dear dadums," she whispered, "now you will see my friend. He is not
+such a bad old man, though he does grunt sometimes."
+
+For answer Philip Waldron bowed his head upon the hand he held, and
+waited.
+
+Soon steps and voices were heard outside.
+
+"Is this the room? A terrible way up! Why didn't you put her a floor
+lower? Quieter?--oh, well, have your own way!"
+
+The doctor and Mr. Waldron entered. In the half-light of the room the
+little figure on the bed was dimly visible. Both men paused while the
+doctor laid a professional hand on the child's pulse.
+
+"She is all right," he remarked reassuringly.
+
+"So you wanted to see me," began Mr. Waldron, looking down at the small
+head where it lay on the pillow. "How pale she is!" he ejaculated to
+himself. "I hope they have treated her properly!"
+
+"Quite properly, thank you," replied Sophy, answering his half-whisper.
+"I wanted you to see my daddy."
+
+Mr. Waldron noticed for the first time the bowed head on the other side
+of the bed.
+
+"Yes," continued Sophy, following his glance. "This is my daddy, and he
+wants to help me say 'Thank you.' For Dr. Norman has told me how kind
+you are, if you are sometimes grumpy."
+
+Philip Waldron slowly raised his head and stood up, facing his father
+across the bed.
+
+"Philip!"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Is it possible?"
+
+"I did not intend you should find me here," said Philip, his voice
+hoarse with emotion, "but it was her wish to see you; and I--I can go
+away."
+
+He moved as if to leave the room.
+
+"Stay!" came a peremptory command. "I--I have forgiven you long ago, my
+son; only pride and self-will stood in the way. For her sake, Philip!"
+
+And the old man stretched a trembling hand across the child.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Some true dog-stories for all who love dogs.]
+
+Dogs We Have Known
+
+BY
+
+LADY CATHERINE MILNES-GASKELL
+
+
+Some years ago I was the guest of my friends Colonel and Mrs. Hamilton.
+Besides myself, there was a large Christmas party of friends and
+children staying in the house. One evening in the drawing-room we all
+joined in the children's play.
+
+"What would you say," interposed Mr. Hillary, one of the guests, and he
+addressed the children, "if we were all in turn to tell you stories of
+all the dogs we have known?"
+
+A little buzz of applause met this proposal, and our hostess, being
+pressed to tell the first tale, began by saying, "Well, then, I will
+tell you how I found my little terrier 'Snap.'"
+
+"One day, about two years ago, I was driving into Charleston, which, as
+you know, is about two miles off. A little distance from the park gates
+I noticed that my pony carriage was followed by a little white dog--or
+at least by a little dog that had once been white. It ran along through
+the black mud of the roads, but nothing seemed to discourage it. On it
+came, keeping up some ten yards behind my carriage.
+
+"At first I thought we only happened both of us to be going in the same
+direction, and that it was merely hurrying home; but I was soon
+undeceived, for to my surprise the little dog followed me first into one
+shop and then into another.
+
+"Finally I got out again and went into the last. On returning to the
+ponies I was astonished to find that the poor little wanderer had jumped
+into the carriage, and ensconced herself comfortably amongst the
+cushions."
+
+"'The brute won't let me take it out,' said Dick, my diminutive groom;
+'it growls if I only touch it, something terrible.'
+
+"'Oh, leave it, then,' I replied, and Snap, as I afterwards christened
+her, drove back with me, sitting up proudly by my side.
+
+"The next day I went out for a long ride. Without any encouragement on
+my part, the little terrier insisted upon following my horse. I think we
+must have gone over a distance of some twenty-four miles, through woods,
+over fields, and along the high-roads, but never once had I to call or
+whistle to bring her to my side. My little friend was always just behind
+me.
+
+"'She be determined to earn herself a good home,' said our old coachman,
+when I returned in the afternoon and he saw the little dog still
+following faithfully behind me. I asked him to catch and feed her, but
+Snap would not trust herself to his care. She showed her teeth and
+growled furiously when he approached her.
+
+"'More temper than dawg,' murmured our old retainer as he relinquished
+his pursuit of her. 'Cum, lassie, I'll do thee no harm;' but the terrier
+was not to be caught by his blandishments, and I had to catch her myself
+and feed her. To me she came at once, looking at me with her earnest,
+wistful eyes, and placing complete trust in me immediately.
+
+"One of my friends says, 'Snap is redeemed by her many vices.' What made
+her confidence in me from the very first most remarkable was her general
+dislike to all strangers. She hates nearly every one. 'Snap spakes to
+us all about place,' is said of her by our old gardener.
+
+"Obviously, I am sorry to say, her former master must have been opposed
+to law and order, for of all human beings she most hates policemen!
+
+[Sidenote: Only Just in Time!]
+
+"She also entertains a strong dislike to ministers of all denominations.
+Last year when a high dignitary of the Church came to call upon me,
+imagine my dismay when I saw during our interview Snap, with evil
+designs, crawling under the furniture to nip his lordship's legs. I was
+only just in time to prevent the catastrophe!
+
+"The 'nasty sneak,' as my nephew Harry called her when he heard the
+story, was almost able before I could stop her to fulfil her wicked
+intentions. Happily, his lordship was unconscious of her inhospitable
+purpose, and when I caught her up only said: 'Poor little dog! don't
+trouble, Mrs. Hamilton, I am not at all nervous about dogs.'
+
+[Illustration: AT THE SHOW.]
+
+"Another time I remember taking Snap to a meeting got up to further the
+interests of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
+
+"All went well till a clergyman rose and addressed the meeting, when
+Snap jumped up also, barking ferociously, and tried to bite him. She was
+carried out struggling and yelping with rage.
+
+"'Yon tyke can't do with a parson,' is the dictum of the villagers when
+they see her go by with me. Snap is very faithful, very crotchety,
+distrusting nearly everybody, greeting every fresh acquaintance with
+marked suspicion, and going through life with a most exalted and
+ridiculous notion of her own importance, and also of that of her master
+and mistress."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Snap's dislike to the clergy reminds me," said Colonel Hamilton, "of a
+story I heard the other day from my friend Gordon, the artist: You must
+know that last year the county gave old Vaughan of Marshford Grange, for
+his services as M.F.H., a testimonial. 'Old V.,' as he is known, has
+the hereditary temper of all the Vaughans--in fact, might vie with 'Our
+Davey' of Indian fame. Gordon, as you know, was selected by the Hunt
+Committee to paint the picture, and he went to stay at the Grange.
+
+"The day after his arrival he went down to breakfast, but found nobody
+there but the old squire seated at his table, and by him a favourite
+large lean white bull terrier.
+
+"'Bob,' he declared, looked at him out of the corner of his evil eye,
+and therefore it was with some trepidation that he approached the table.
+
+"'Swear, man, swear, or say something that he'll take for swearing,'
+exclaimed his host. 'If Bob takes you for a parson he'll bite you.' The
+explanation of this supposed hostility on Bob's part to the clergy
+consisted in the known and open warfare that existed between Vaughan and
+his parson.
+
+"Some forty years before, the Squire had given his best living to his
+best college friend, and ever since there had been internecine war as a
+consequence.
+
+"Poor Gordon was that curious anomaly, an artist combined with the pink
+of spinsterly propriety; and he could see no humour in the incident, but
+always declared that he felt nervous during his visit at the Grange lest
+Bob's punishing jaws should mistake his antecedents and profession.
+
+"But now, Lady Constance, it is your turn, as the children say."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I have a very clever old dog at home," said Lady Constance, turning to
+the children, "called 'Sloe.' She was, in her youth and prime, a most
+valuable retriever, but now is grown too old to do much but sleep in the
+sunshine. Eddie and Molly were given some time ago two pretty young
+white rabbits. They looked like balls of white fluff, and were the
+prettiest toy-like pets you can imagine. One night, unfortunately, they
+escaped from their protecting hutch.
+
+"Sloe is one of those dogs that cannot resist temptation, and although
+she has often been whipped and scolded for massacring rabbits, never
+listens to the voice of conscience. In fact, she hardly seems as if she
+could help doing so, and appears to think, like the naughty boy of the
+story, that, in spite of the beating, the fun was too great to forgo.
+
+[Sidenote: Sloe and Duchess]
+
+"Sloe is always loose, but has a kennel to sleep in at nights in the
+stable-yard. Opposite to her kennel is chained another dog--a
+retriever--'Duchess' by name, a lovely dog of a soft flaxen colour. This
+dog on this occasion, it so happened, had not yet been unchained.
+
+"Sloe disappeared amongst the shrubberies, and found there her innocent
+victims. The poor little things were soon caught, and breathed their
+last in her ferocious jaws. When Sloe had killed them she did not care
+to eat them, and, strange to say, she determined not to bury them, but
+resolved that it should appear that the murder had been committed by her
+companion, and that Duchess should bear the blame.
+
+"It is said that she is jealous of her companion sharing the favour of
+her master, and so decided upon doing her a bad turn.
+
+"Prompted probably by this evil thought, she carried her victims one
+after the other into Duchess's kennel and left them there. The coachman,
+who was up betimes cleaning his harness, saw her do this. After which
+the old sly-boots retired to her own lair and went to sleep as if
+nothing had happened."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Did you ever owe your life to a dog?" inquired Colonel Hamilton,
+turning to Lady Constance.
+
+"Oh, yes, I did once," was her reply.
+
+"Some years ago I was given a large dog--half bloodhound and half
+mastiff. To women and children he was very gentle, but he had an
+inveterate dislike to all men. There was nothing he would not allow a
+baby to do to him. It might claw his eyes, sit on his back, tap his
+nose, scream in his ears, and pull his hair; and 'George,' for such was
+his name, would sit and look at me with a sort of broad good-natured
+smile.
+
+"One year we all went up to a shooting-lodge in Perthshire. In the
+paddock before the house there was a bull. I complained of our
+neighbour, for I thought he had an evil eye, and might some day do the
+children some mischief.
+
+"Our landlord, however, would not listen to my complaints.
+
+"'Dinna ye fash yersel,' Geordie,' he said to his herdsman, 'or take
+notice of what the women-folk say. It is a douce baistie, and he'll nae
+harm bairns nor doggies.'
+
+"In spite of this, one afternoon I had occasion to cross the meadow,
+when suddenly I turned round and saw the bull running behind me. He
+bellowed fiercely as he advanced.
+
+"Happily, when he charged I was able to spring aside, and so he passed
+me. But I saw that the wall at the end of the field was several hundreds
+yards off, and I felt, if the bull turned again to pursue me, my life
+would not be worth much.
+
+"Then I saw my faithful George standing sullenly beside me, all his
+'hackles' up, and waiting for the enemy with an ominous growl.
+
+"The bull again turned, but my dog met him, and something of the
+inherited mastiff love of feats in the bull-ring must have awoke within
+him, for when the bull came after me the old dog flew at his nose,
+courageously worried him, and fairly ended by routing him. In the
+meantime I slipped over the loose stone wall, and ran and opened the
+gate at the bottom of the field, through which trotted a few minutes
+later my protector.
+
+"I told my story when I returned to the house, and the keeper promised
+me that he would speak to the bailiff at our landlord's farm and have
+the bull taken away on the following day.
+
+"Now, the grass of the paddock being particularly tender and sweet, it
+was the custom for the 'hill ponies' to graze at night in company with
+the cows and the bull. The horses and cattle had hitherto done so,
+without causing any damage to each other; but the morning after my
+adventure one of the ponies was found gored to death, and an old
+cart-mare who had been running there with a foal was discovered to be so
+terribly injured that she had to be shot. It was noticed that the bull's
+horns were crimson with blood, so there could be no doubt who was the
+delinquent.
+
+"'The more you know of a bull, the less faith you can put in one,' said
+our old cowherd to me one day when I recounted to him in Yorkshire my
+escape; 'and, saving your ladyship's presence,' he added, 'bulls are as
+given to tantrums as young females.'
+
+[Sidenote: George's Tricks]
+
+"When George was young we tried to teach him some tricks," continued
+Lady Constance, "but, like a village boy, he 'was hard to learn;' and
+the only accomplishment he ever acquired was, during meals, to stand up
+and plant his front paws upon our shoulders, look over into our plates,
+and receive as a reward some tit-bit. Sometimes he would do this without
+any warning, and he seemed to derive a malicious pleasure in performing
+these antics upon the shoulders of some nervous lady, or upon some guest
+who did not share with us our canine love."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It had now come to my turn to contribute a story, and in answer to the
+children's appeal I told them that I would tell them all that I could
+remember of my old favourite mastiff, "Rory Bean," so-called after the
+Laird of Dumbiedike's pony in the "Heart of Midlothian."
+
+"Rory was a very large fawn mastiff, with the orthodox black mask. I
+remember my little girl, when she was younger, having once been told
+that she must not go downstairs to her godmamma with a dirty face,
+resolved that if this was the case Rory must have a clean face too.
+
+"So the next day, on entering the nursery, I found she had got some soap
+and water in a basin, and beside her I saw the great kindly beast,
+sitting up on her haunches, patiently waiting whilst her face was being
+washed; but in spite of all the child's efforts the nose remained as
+black as ever. My little girl's verdict, 'that mastiffs is the best
+nursery dogs,' was for a long time a joke amongst our friends.
+
+"For several years we took Rory up to London, but her stay there was
+always rather a sad one, for when out walking the crossings in the
+streets were a great source of terror to her. No maiden-aunt could have
+been more timid. She would never go over by herself, but would either
+bound forward violently or else hang back, and nearly pull over her
+guide. She had also a spinsterly objection to hansoms, and never would
+consent to be driven in one. On the other hand, she delighted in a drive
+in a 'growler,' and, if the driver were cleaning out his carriage, would
+often jump in and refuse to be taken out.
+
+"When Rory followed us in London she had a foolish habit of wishing to
+seem independent of all restraint, and of desiring to appear 'a
+gentleman at large.'
+
+"On one unfortunate occasion, whilst indulging in this propensity, she
+was knocked over by a hansom--not badly hurt, but terribly overcome by a
+sense of the wickedness of the world, where such things could be
+possible.
+
+"The accident happened in Dover Street. Rory had strayed into the gutter
+after some tempting morsel she had espied there, and a dashing hansom
+had bowled her over. She lay yelping and howling and pitying herself
+intensely. My companion and I succeeded in dragging her into a baker's
+shop, where she was shown every kindness and consideration, and then we
+drove home in a four-wheeler. Rory was not much hurt, but for many days
+could hardly be induced to walk in the streets again. She seemed to be
+permeated with a sense of the instability and uncertainty of all things,
+and never appeared able to recover from her surprise that she, 'Rory
+Bean,' a mastiff of most ancient lineage and of the bluest blood, should
+not be able to walk about in safety wherever she pleased--even in the
+streets of the metropolis.
+
+[Sidenote: Lost in London]
+
+"I recollect we once lost her in London. She made her escape out of the
+house whilst we had gone for a ride in the park. When we returned from
+our ride, instead of hearing her joyous bark of welcome, and seeing her
+flop down in her excitement the last four steps of the staircase, as was
+her wont, we were met instead by the anxious face of the butler, who
+told us Rory had run out and could not be found.
+
+"Fortunately, we were not dining out that night, and so, as quickly as
+possible, we sallied forth in different directions to find her. The
+police were communicated with, and a letter duly written to the manager
+of the Dogs' Home at Battersea, whilst my husband and I spent the
+evening in wandering from police-station to police-station, giving
+descriptions of the missing favourite.
+
+"Large fawn mastiff, answers to the name of 'Rory Bean,' black face and
+perfectly gentle. I got quite wearied out in giving over and over again
+the same account. However, to cut a long story short, she was at last
+discovered by the butler, who heard her frantic baying a mile off in the
+centre of Hyde Park, and brought her back, and so ended Rory Bean's last
+season in London.
+
+"A few days before this escapade I took out Rory in one of the few
+squares where dogs are still allowed to accompany their masters. Bean
+had a na�ve way, when bored, of inviting you or any casual passer-by
+that she might chance to see, to a good game of romps with her. Her
+method was very simple. She would run round barking, but her voice was
+very deep, as of a voice in some subterranean cavern; and with strangers
+this did not invariably awaken on their side a joyous reciprocity.
+Somehow, big dogs always ignore their size.
+
+"They have a confirmed habit of creeping under tiny tables, and hanker
+after squeezing themselves through impossible gaps. Being, as a rule,
+quite innocent of all desire to injure any member of the human race,
+they cannot realise that it is possible that they in their turn can
+frighten anybody.
+
+"I remember on this particular occasion that I was interested in my
+book, and that when Rory had barked round me I had refused to play with
+her. For some time she had lain down quietly beside me, when suddenly an
+old gentleman came into view. He held in his hand a stick, with which he
+meditatively struck the pebbles of the pathway as he walked along.
+
+"At the sight of him Rory jumped up. She could not resist this
+particular action on his part, which she considered a special invitation
+to come and join in a good romp. To my consternation, before I could
+prevent her, I saw her barking and jumping round the poor frightened old
+gentleman, in good-natured but ominous-looking play.
+
+"Seeing that he was really alarmed, I rushed off to his rescue, seized
+my dog and apologised. Wishing at the same time to say something that
+might somewhat condone her conduct, I said: 'I am very sorry, sir, but
+you see she is only a puppy,' and pointed to Rory.
+
+"This was not quite a correct statement, as my four-footed friend was at
+that time about two years old, and measured nearly thirty inches from
+the shoulder, but, as the old man seemed really frightened and muttered
+two ugly words in connection with each other, 'Hydrophobia' and
+'Police,' I was determined to do all I could to reassure him and smooth
+down his ruffled plumes.
+
+"However, my elderly acquaintance would not be comforted, and I heard
+him muttering to himself as he retired from the square, 'Puppy indeed!
+Puppy indeed!'
+
+"Bean's death was very sad. Two years ago we left her in Yorkshire
+whilst we went to London. We heard of her continually whilst we were
+away, and she seemed very flourishing although growing old, till one day
+I got a letter to say that the old dog was suddenly taken very ill and
+could hardly move. The servants had taken her to a loose box, given her
+a good clean bed of straw, and were feeding her with such delicacies as
+she could be prevailed upon to take.
+
+[Sidenote: Rory's Last Welcome]
+
+"I had a sad journey home, thinking of the sufferings of my trusty old
+friend. I shall never forget her joy at seeing me once more. The poor
+faithful creature could not walk, but crawled along upon her stomach to
+meet me when I entered the loose box, filling the place with her cries
+of joy. She covered my hands with kisses, and then laid her head upon my
+knees whilst I sat down beside her. She whined with a sort of
+half-sorrow, half-pleasure--the first that she could not get up and show
+me round the gardens as was her wont, the second that she was happy to
+be thus resting in the presence of her beloved mistress. Around her lay
+a variety of choice foods and tit-bits, but she was in too great pain to
+feed except from my hands.
+
+"Poor dear Bean! she looked at me out of her great solemn eyes. Those
+dear loving eyes; with only one expression shining in them--a daily,
+hourly love--a love in spite of all things--a love invincible.
+
+"During those last few days of her life Rory could not bear to be left
+alone. Her eyes followed me tenderly round and round the stables
+wherever I went. Although constantly in great pain, I shall never forget
+her patience and her pathetic conviction that I could always do her some
+good, and she believed in the miracle which I, alas! had no power to
+perform. The veterinary surgeon who attended her said she was suffering
+from sudden paralysis of the spine, and that she was incurable. This
+disease, it appears, is not very rare amongst old dogs who have lived,
+not always wisely, but too well."
+
+"Do tell us about some other dogs," cry the children as I cease
+speaking. I search my memory, and then turn to the group of little faces
+that are waiting expectantly for me to begin, and continue:
+
+"Amongst the various breeds of dogs that I have come across personally,
+I know of none more faithful than the little fox-terrier is to his first
+devotion. He is a perfect little bantam-cock to fight, and never so
+happy as when he is in a row. 'The most unredeemed thing in nature,' was
+a true remark I once heard made of one; and yet there is no dog more
+devoted to his master, or more gentle to the children of his own
+household.
+
+"I remember a little white terrier of my mother's, a celebrated
+prize-winner, and of the old Eggesford breed, called 'Spite.' Before I
+married she was my special dog, and used to sleep in my room. For years
+afterwards, although a general pet, whenever I returned to my old home
+she would prefer me to every one else, and, when old and blind, would
+toddle up the polished oak staircase to my room, in spite of being
+terribly afraid of slipping through the carved bannisters. She never
+forgot me or wavered when I was with her in giving me the first place in
+her affections.
+
+"I have heard that the first of this noted strain was given many years
+ago to my father as a boy by 'Parson Jack.' It seems that the terriers
+of Parson Russell were noted in the days when the manners and customs of
+the parsons of the West were 'wild and furious.'
+
+"A parson of the 'Parson Froude' type called upon him one evening in the
+dusk, to say that he had brought his terrier to fight 'Parson Jack's' in
+a match.
+
+"My father's old friend, as I have often heard him tell the story to my
+mother, sent down word that he would not fight his dog because he
+'looked upon dog-fights as beastly sights,' but if his brother clergyman
+would come upstairs, they would clear the tables, and he would take his
+jacket off, and they would have some rounds, and see which was the best
+man, and he who won should keep the other's dog.
+
+[Sidenote: "Parson Jack"]
+
+"When the fight was fought and won, and when 'Parson Jack' came off
+victorious, he claimed the other terrier.
+
+"'And don't yu goe for to think, my dear,' he would add, turning to one
+of us children, as he ended the story, and speaking in broad Devonshire,
+as he often did when his heart kindled at the memory of the county in
+the old days--'don't yu goe for tu think as my having a set-tu zhocked
+the people in my parish. My vulk were only plazed to think as parsan was
+the best man of the tu, and if a parsan could stand up like a man in a
+round in they days, er was all the more likely to zuit 'em in the pulpit
+on Zundays.'
+
+"Once every year 'Parson Jack' used to come and dine and sleep at my old
+home to keep his birthday, in company with my father and mother. At such
+times we as children used to come down to dessert to hear him tell
+stories in his racy way of Katerfelto, of long gallops over Exmoor after
+the stag, or of hard runs after the little 'red rover' with Mr.
+Fellowes' hounds."
+
+"What dogs have you now?" inquired Mrs. Hamilton.
+
+"Amongst others, a large St. Bernard," is my reply--"Bathsheba, so
+called after Mr. Hardy's heroine. Not that she has any of that young
+lady's delicate changes and complications of character, nor is she even
+'almighty womanish.'
+
+"Our Bathsheba is of an inexhaustible good temper, stupid, and
+wonderfully stolid and gentle. She is never crusty, and is the untiring
+playmate of any child. The 'Lubber fiend' we call her sometimes in fun,
+for she seems to extend over acres of carpet when she takes a siesta in
+the drawing-room.
+
+"'Has she a soul?' inquired a friend who admired the great gentle
+creature. 'I fear not,' was my reply; 'only a stomach.'
+
+"Besides Bathsheba, we have a large retriever called 'Frolic.' He and
+Bath are given sometimes to running after people who go to the back
+door; they never bite, but growl, and bark if it is a complete
+stranger.
+
+"On one occasion, an Irishman who had been employed to do some draining
+met with this hostile reception. ''Tis gude house-dogs,' said my
+guardian of the poultry grimly.
+
+"On hearing that the Irishman had been frightened, I sought him,
+expressed to him my regrets, and said that, though big, the dogs were
+quite harmless. With ready wit he retorted: 'Begorra, it isn't dogs that
+I am afraid of, but your ladyship keeps lions.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Just one more story," cry the children as I cease speaking, and Mrs.
+Hamilton points to the clock, as their bedtime is long past. After a few
+minutes' pause, I continue:
+
+"The other day I was told of a little girl who attended a distribution
+of prizes given by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
+
+"She had won, you must know, a book as a reward for writing the best
+essay on the subject given, and, with the other successful children, was
+undergoing a _viv� voce_ examination.
+
+"'Well, my dear,' said the gentleman who had given away the prizes, 'can
+you tell me why it is cruel to dock horses' tails and trim dogs' ears?'
+'Because,' answered the little girl, 'what God has joined together let
+no man put asunder.'"
+
+An explosion of childish laughter follows my story, and then the little
+ones troop up in silence to bed. I sit on, quietly looking into the
+fire, and as I sit so the voices of my friends seem to grow distant, and
+I fall into a reverie.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A Cornish story of a girl's sorrow.]
+
+Daft Bess
+
+BY
+
+KATE BURNLEY BELT
+
+Up and down the little pier they paced in quarter-deck fashion, each
+with his hands tucked deep down in the pockets of his sea-blanket coat,
+and his oilskin cap pulled well over his ears.
+
+They were very silent in their walk, these three old men, who had
+watched the breakers come and go at Trewithen for over sixty years, and
+handled the ropes when danger threatened. Trewithen Cove had sheltered
+many a storm-driven ship within their memories, and there were
+grave-mounds in the churchyard on the cliff still unclaimed and unknown
+that had been built up by their hands.
+
+Up and down, to and fro they went in the face of the flying spray, in
+spite of the deepening mist that was creeping up over the darkening sea.
+
+Benjamin Blake--once the handiest craftsman in the cove--was the first
+to break the silence.
+
+"'Tis a sa-ad night at sea, mates!" he shouted, and the roar of the
+waves nearly drowned the sound of his voice.
+
+"Iss, tu be zure, Benjamin Blake!" shouted Tom Pemberthy in answer, "an'
+'twill be a ba-ad job fer more'n wan boat, I reckin, 'gainst marnin'!"
+
+Then Joe Clatworthy, whose opinions were valued highly in the settlement
+of all village disputes, so that he had earned for himself the nickname
+of "Clacking Joe," stood still as they once more turned their backs on
+the threatening sea, and said his say.
+
+"A tell ee wot 'twill be, mates," he said solemnly and slowly. "You mark
+my wurrds ef it dawn't cum truthy too,--there'll be terble loss uv
+li-ife out there tu-night," and he waved his hand towards the blackening
+sea, "an' us'll hev tu dig a fuu more graves, I reckin', cum marnin'!"
+
+"The Lard hev murcy!" said Benjamin Blake, and the three resumed their
+walk again.
+
+Half an hour afterwards they were making their way along the one little
+street of which Trewithen boasted to their homes; for a storm--the
+roughest they had known for years--had burst overhead, and a man's life
+is a frail thing in the teeth of a gale.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the top of the cliff and beyond Trewithen churchyard by the length of
+a field there stood a tiny cottage, in which lived Jacob Tresidder,
+fisherman, and his daughter Bess.
+
+"Daft Bess" the children called her as they played with her on the
+sands, though she was a woman grown, and had hair that was streaked with
+white.
+
+She was sitting now by the dying fire in the little kitchen listening to
+the storm without; the hands of the grandfather clock were nearing the
+midnight hour, and Jacob Tresidder lay in a sound sleep upstairs hearing
+nought. She was of the type of fisher-maid common to the depths of
+Cornwall. The soft rich colouring of her skin reminded one more of the
+sunny south, and her big brown eyes had always a glow in them.
+
+To-night they were more luminous than ever as she sat by the fire
+watching the sparks flicker and die, as if the dawn of some hidden
+knowledge were being borne to them on the breath of the storm. The roar
+of the sea as it dashed up the face of the cliff seemed to soothe her,
+and she would smile and turn her ear to catch the sound of its breaking
+on the beach below.
+
+And yet, seven years before, "Daft Bess" had been the brightest and
+prettiest girl in Trewithen, and the admiration of every lad in the
+country round! And Big Ben Martyn, who had a boat of his own, had been
+the pride of every girl! But he only cared for Bess and she for him. All
+their lives they had been together and loved,--and a simple, truthful
+love can only produce its own affinity, though in its travail it pass
+through pain and suffering, and, maybe, the laying down of life!
+
+Ben Martyn was twenty-five, and his own master, when he asked Bess, who
+had just turned twenty, to be his wife.
+
+"The cottage be waitin', Bess, my gurrl!" he whispered as they sat on
+the cliff in the summer night; she knitting as usual, and he watching
+the needles dart in and out. They were very silent in their love, these
+two, who had been lovers ever since they could paddle.
+
+"'Tis so lawnly betimes!" he pleaded.
+
+And Bess set his longing heart at rest.
+
+"So soon as vather can spare I, Ben," she said; and she laid her
+knitting on the rock beside them, and drew his sea-tanned face close
+down beside her own. "Ee dawn't seek fer I more'n I seek fer ee, deary!"
+and kissed him.
+
+Thus they plighted their troth.
+
+[Sidenote: One Dark Night]
+
+Then came the winter and the hard work. And one dark stormy night, when
+the waves rose and fought till they nearly swept Trewithen out of sight,
+Ben Martyn was drowned.
+
+He had been trying to run his boat into the shelter of the cove and
+failed, and in the morning his battered body lay high and dry on the
+quiet beach among the wreckage.
+
+For weeks Bess lay in a high fever; and then, when the strain was
+greater than her tortured mind could bear, and she had screamed loud and
+long, something snapped in her brain and gave relief. But it left her
+without a memory, and with the ways and speech of a little child.
+
+Her mind was a blank! She played with the seaweed and smiled, till the
+women's hearts were like to break for her, and the words stuck in the
+men's throats as they looked at her and talked.
+
+"She be mazed, poor maid!" they said gently lest she should hear them.
+"'Twould break Ben's heart ef ee knawed 'ur was so!"
+
+That was seven long years ago. And to-night Bess seemed loth to leave
+the fire, but sat hugging her knees in a restless fashion, and staring
+at the blackening embers in a puzzled way. A tremendous blast struck the
+cottage, and nearly shook the kitchen window out of its fastenings. The
+wind came shrieking through the holes in the shutter like a revengeful
+demon, and retreated again with a melancholy groan.
+
+It pleased Bess, and she hugged her knees the tighter, and turned her
+head and waited for the next loud roar. It came, and then another, and
+another, till it seemed almost impossible for the little cottage to hold
+out against its fury!
+
+Then "Daft Bess" sprang from her seat with a cry of gladness, and ran
+out into the night!
+
+Along the path of the cliff she ran as fast as her bare feet would carry
+her, struggling and buffeting with the wind and spray till she reached
+the "cutting" down to the beach.
+
+It was only a broken track where the rocks sloped and jagged a little,
+and not too safe at the best of times. She tried to get a foothold, but
+the wind was too strong, and she was driven back again and again. Then
+it lulled a little, and she began to descend.
+
+Half-way down there was an ugly turn in the path, and she waited for a
+gust to pass before taking it. The wind was stronger than ever out here
+on the front of the cliff, but she held tight to the jagged rock
+above.
+
+Round it swept, tearing loose bits of rock and soil from every corner,
+till her face was cut by the sharpness of the flints!
+
+[Illustration: THE ROCK SHE CLUNG TO GAVE WAY.]
+
+Close against the cliff it blew until she was almost breathless, when
+the rock she clung to gave way, and she fell down and down!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jacob Tressider was awake. He had heard a noise like the breaking of
+delf in the kitchen below, and he wondered if Bess had heard it too. He
+got out of bed and dressed himself, and then came down the ladder which
+did service for a staircase to see what was amiss. The flags in the
+kitchen were strewn with broken plates, and the front kitchen door swung
+loosely on its hinges.
+
+[Sidenote: No Answer!]
+
+He called Bess, but there was no answer! He went into her room, the bed
+was untouched since day! Then he pulled on his great sea-boots and cap
+and went out to look for her.
+
+The day was dawning when they brought her in and laid her on the bed of
+her little room more dead than alive. She was soaked through and
+through, and the seaweed still clung about her hair. Jacob Tresidder
+stood watching her like a man in a dream as she lay there white and
+silent.
+
+"Us be mighty sore fer ee, so us be!" said old Benjamin Blake, who had
+helped to bring her home. "But teddin fer yew nor I, Jacob, tu go
+fornenst His will." And he went out crying like a child.
+
+There was a slight movement of the quiet figure on the coverlid, and
+Jacob Tresidder's heart stopped beating for a moment as he watched his
+daughter's brown eyes open once more! They wandered wonderingly to where
+he was, and rested there, and a faint smile crossed the dying lips.
+
+Then he bowed his head between his hands as he knelt beside her, for he
+knew that God had given her back her memory again; and his sobs were
+the sobs of a thankful heart.
+
+"Vather!" she whispered, and with an effort she stretched the hand
+nearest to him and touched his sleeve. "'Tis--all right--now--I be
+gwine--tu--Ben."
+
+The dying eyes glowed with love; then with a restful sigh the life
+passed out.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They had battened down the last spadeful of new-dug earth, and once
+again there was a storm-bred mound in Trewithen churchyard.
+
+The three old comrades stood together in silence looking down on it,
+making little or no attempt to hide the sorrow that was theirs.
+
+Then Tom Pemberthy said, drawing his hand across his tear-dimmed eyes:
+"Us'll miss ur simple wa-ays, sure 'nuff!"
+
+But it was given to "Clacking Joe" to speak the final words ere they
+turned their faces homewards.
+
+"'Twas awnly right that we laid ur 'longside o' Ben! When ur was a
+little chile ur shrimped with 'n! an' when ur was a gert maiden ur
+walked out with 'n! Please God, ur'll be the furrst tu spake tu 'n--cum
+the aftermath!"
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: SPRING CLEANING.]
+
+[Sidenote: A seasonable chant, possibly useful for recitation purposes.]
+
+A Spring-time Duet
+
+BY
+
+MARY LESLIE
+
+
+          _1st Maiden._ "Oh, Spring is here, the golden sun
+                              Has routed Winter's gloom!"
+
+          _2nd Maiden._ "Good gracious! Jane has not _begun_
+                              To scrub the dining-room!"
+
+
+          _1st Maiden._ "And now the first sweet buds appear,
+                              Symbolic of new hope."
+
+          _2nd Maiden._ "I didn't say 'carbolic,' dear,
+                              I want the _yellow_ soap."
+
+
+          _1st Maiden._ "Like nectar is the morning dew,
+                              Its purity divine
+                             Refreshes all the earth anew."
+
+          _2nd Maiden._ "Ah! here's the turpentine."
+
+
+          _1st Maiden._ "And crystal webs shine bright, as though
+                              Spun on some fairy loom."
+
+          _2nd Maiden._ "A spider's web? I didn't know;
+                              I'll run and fetch the broom!"
+
+
+          _1st Maiden._ "Blooms Nature scatters, fresh and free,
+                              From out her treasure-house."
+
+          _2nd Maiden._ "I'll dust this cupboard thoroughly."
+
+          _Both together._ "Oh, horrors! There's a _mouse_!"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A Canadian boy and girl together were at one moment as happy
+as youth and health could make them, and at the next in imminent danger
+of their lives.]
+
+Out of Deadly Peril
+
+BY
+
+K. BALFOUR MURPHY
+
+
+What on earth had happened to Gladys Merritt?
+
+In the course of a few short weeks the girl was transformed from the
+merriest, most light-hearted creature into one often thoughtful, silent,
+and serious. The question then was, Why had she suddenly changed
+completely? Many guessed, but only two knew the real reason.
+
+Barrie, where Judge Merritt lived, lies at the head of lovely little
+Lake Simcoe, in Western Ontario, Canada. In summer the lake is blue as
+the heavens above, the borders of it are fringed with larch and maple
+that grow right down to the rippling edge and bow to their own
+reflections in the clear waters beneath, while on its glassy surface can
+be seen daily numbers of boats and launches, the whole scene animated by
+merry voices of happy folks, with picnic baskets, bound for the woods,
+or others merely seeking relief from the intense heat on shore. Work is
+finished early in the day in the Colonies, and when school is over and
+the scorching sun begins slowly to sink to rest, social life begins.
+
+But in Canada winter is long and extremely cold. With the fall of the
+beautiful tinted leaves that have changed from green to wonderful shades
+of red, purple, and yellow, Canadians know that summer is gone and that
+frost and snow may come any day, and once come will stay, though an
+unwelcome guest, for at least seven or eight months.
+
+Now the young folks in Barrie relished this long spell of cold--to them
+no part of the year was quite so delightful as winter. What could
+compare with a long sleigh drive over firm thick snow, tucked in with
+soft warm furs and muffled up to the eyes--or tobogganing in the
+moonlight down a long hill--or skimming over clear, smooth ice--or
+candy-making parties--or dances, or a dozen other delights? What indeed?
+On every occasion Gladys seemed to be the centre figure; she was the
+life and soul of every party.
+
+[Sidenote: The "Bunch"]
+
+She was an only child of wealthy parents. Her home was beautiful, her
+father indulgent, her mother like a sister to her; she was a favourite
+everywhere, loved alike by rich and poor. Together with two intimate
+friends and schoolfellows, the girls were commonly known as the "Buds,"
+and they, with half a dozen boys, were called the "Bunch" throughout the
+town. They admitted no outsider to their circle. They danced together at
+parties, boated, picniced, skated, sometimes worked together. There was
+an invisible bond that drew the group near each other, a feeling of
+sympathy and good fellowship, for the "Bunch" was simply a
+whole-hearted, happy crowd of boys and girls about sixteen to nineteen
+years of age.
+
+Winter was at its height. Christmas with all its joys was past, church
+decorations had surpassed the usual standard of beauty, holidays were in
+full swing, and the "Buds" were in great demand. The cold had for five
+weeks been intense, and the barometer on the last day of January sank to
+fifteen below zero. Snow had fallen but little, and the ring of merry,
+tinkling sleigh bells was almost an unknown sound. Tobogganing of
+course was impossible. But as Gladys philosophically remarked one day,
+"Where could you find such skating as in Barrie?"
+
+Great excitement prevailed when the moon was full, for the lake, some
+nine miles in length, was frozen from end to end, with an average
+thickness of three feet, and to the delight of skaters, was entirely
+snow free. Of course parties were the order of the day. Such a chance to
+command a magnificent icefield might not occur again for a long, long
+time.
+
+The "Bunch" instantly decided on a party of their own, and chose a
+glorious night for the expedition. It consisted of the "Buds" and three
+boys. For some time all went well, but Gladys's skate needed tightening,
+and before it was satisfactorily done, the other four were far away, and
+Harry Elliott was left as sole protector to the girl.
+
+Their conversation was mainly about school concerns. The boy was in a
+bank, the girl in her last term at the High School.
+
+"If only I could work at something after I'm finished! What shall I do
+with my life when I have no more lessons? I think everybody should do
+something; I shall soon be tired of lazing through the days."
+
+"Your pater would never let you do anything for money, he is so rich."
+
+"But simply to have a lot of money won't satisfy me, although I'd like
+to earn some. To be a teacher would suit me best, and keep my mind from
+rusting."
+
+"You are awfully clever, you know. I never cared for books and never
+worked till one day--a day I shall never forget."
+
+"What was it about, Harry? Tell me."
+
+The two had chattered about their own concerns without noticing that the
+rest of the "Bunch" had kept to the left side of the lake while they had
+skated straight forward ignoring the deep bay, and were now nearing the
+right shore. The ice was smooth as glass, each was an accomplished
+skater, and together they had made a brilliant run without a pause after
+the tightening of the screw. Now, hot and breathless, they paused for a
+few moments, and only then realised that they were about three miles
+distant from the rest of the party. Harry drew off his thick woollen
+mittens and unloosened his muffler, as together they stood looking at
+the glistening landscape around them.
+
+"I think we ought to turn; we are a long way from home."
+
+"Just let us touch shore first and get to the 'Black Stone'; that would
+be a record spin."
+
+"All right, then, come along, and tell me what happened that day. You
+know."
+
+Hand-in-hand the two started off once more in the direction of the
+"Black Stone." Far and wide there was not a human being visible. Not a
+sound except the swish, swish of their skates and their own voices fell
+on the clear, still air of the glorious night.
+
+[Sidenote: Harry's Story]
+
+"I never was clever," began Harry, "and am not now. I used to be quite
+satisfied that kings and other celebrated people really had lived and
+died without learning a whole rigmarole about their lives. Really it did
+not interest me a bit. Geography was the same, composition was worse,
+mathematics was worst. I seemed always to be in hot water at school.
+Then one day the old man (we always called Jackson Spencer that) said
+after class was over--and of course I hadn't answered once--'Elliott, go
+to my room and wait for me.' I tell you, Gladys, I shivered; I didn't
+know what I was in for. Old man walked right in and shut the door, after
+having left me alone about ten minutes, and just said, 'Come and sit
+down, boy, I want to say something to you.' You could have knocked me
+over I was so surprised. He then said: 'Look here, Elliott, you are not
+a bad chap, but do you know that you are as blind as an owl?' I rubbed
+my eyes and said, 'No, sir, I can see all right.'
+
+"'You must be very short-sighted, then.'
+
+"Of course I said nothing.
+
+"'Did you ever think why your father sent you to school?'
+
+"'No-o, sir.'
+
+"'I thought so, but I'm going to tell you. He is not a rich man, Harry,
+but he pays me to teach you all that will help you to rise above the
+level of an ignorant labourer. Culture and education are as necessary to
+a gentleman as bread is for food. I am doing my utmost, but I cannot
+pour instruction down your throat any more than you can make a horse
+drink by leading him to the trough. Now look here, boy, with all your
+faults you are no coward; haven't you the pluck to get to know yourself
+and stop being a shirker? Think what that means! A fellow never to be
+trusted, a lazy, good-for-nothing, cowardly loafer. Remember, if you
+don't work, you are taking your father's money under false pretences,
+which is only another word for dishonesty. Think about what I've said;
+turn over a page and start a new chapter. You can go, and mind--I trust
+you.'"
+
+"What a splendid old boy!" exclaimed Gladys. "What did you do?"
+
+"Do! I worked like a beaver for the balance of school life, I'd so much
+to make good. We shall touch the 'Stone' in a couple of----"
+
+The sentence was never finished, for without warning, out of sight of a
+helping hand, Gladys and Harry skated right through a large hole, left
+by an ice-cutter without being marked by boughs, into ten feet of
+freezing water.
+
+The shock was tremendous, but being fine swimmers they naturally struck
+out, trying to grasp the slippery ice.
+
+To his horror Harry knew that his gloves were in his pocket, and now,
+try as he would, his hands would not grip the ice. Gladys had been
+entrusted to his care: not only would his life be the price of having
+separated from the "Bunch," but infinitely worse, she must share the
+same fate.
+
+Despair lent him strength to support the girl with his left arm while he
+tried to swing his right leg over and dig the heel of his skate into the
+ice.
+
+But all in vain, he tried and tried again. Numbed with cold, he felt
+himself growing weaker and he knew that the end could not be far off
+should the next attempt fail.
+
+One more struggle--one last effort--and the skate, thank Heaven, had
+caught! Then came the last act. Clenching his teeth and wildly imploring
+help from on high, Harry gathered together his last remnant of strength,
+and swung the girl on to the ice--Gladys was saved!
+
+The boy's heart beat, his panting breath seemed to suffocate him, the
+strain had been so fearful; now he could do no more, he seemed to make
+no effort to save himself.
+
+"Harry! Harry!" cried Gladys; "you must try more! I'm all right and can
+help you--see, I am here close by!" she cried, frantic with terror. "It
+will be all right directly," she added bravely as she lay flat down and
+crept up to the edge of the ice.
+
+The boy heard her encouraging words, but still made no progress.
+
+"You are not doing your best, Harry! Think of me, if not of yourself.
+Remember, I am alone and so frightened. Oh! do be quick. Here, take hold
+of my hands."
+
+This time her words went home, and the boy, half-paralysed with cold and
+completely worn out, remembered his responsibility.
+
+"Come along, Harry--hold hard! Yes, I can bear the weight!" called out
+the courageous girl as she lay in her freezing garments on the ice, the
+strain of the lad's weight dragging her arms almost from their sockets.
+
+[Sidenote: Pluck Rewarded]
+
+At last their pluck was rewarded. Heaven was good to them, and Harry
+Elliott, trembling in every limb, his teeth chattering, his face pale as
+the moon, stood by Gladys on solid ice. There was no time to waste in
+words, the boy merely stretched out his hand to the exhausted girl and
+started across the lake to the nearest house.
+
+Not a word was spoken; they just sped onward, at first slowly and
+laboriously, until the blood began to circulate and progress became
+easier. When they reached the shore, they stood encased in solid ice,
+their wet clothes frozen stiff by the keen frost of the glorious night.
+
+Not for some days did Gladys betray any signs of the mental shock she
+had received. Anxious parents and a careful doctor kept her in bed for a
+week, while Harry occupied his usual place at the bank.
+
+It was during that week that the change in Gladys took place. She had
+plenty of time for thought. Recollections of her nearness to death, of
+her horror while under the ice, of her terror when saved, of seeing her
+brave rescuer sink, all these scenes made a deep and lasting impression
+on her, and she realised that life can never be made up of pleasures
+only.
+
+When she met the rest of the "Bunch," her quietness puzzled them, her
+determination to go no more on the ice distressed them. But in her own
+heart Gladys felt that she had gained by her approach to death, for in
+the deadly struggle she had been brought near to God. As for Harry
+Elliott, need I forecast the trend of the two lives that were so nearly
+taken away together?
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Mike, the old Raven, is the central figure of this story for
+younger girls.]
+
+The Pearl-rimmed Locket
+
+BY
+
+M. B. MANWELL
+
+
+March came in with a roar that year. The elms of Old Studley creaked and
+groaned loudly as the wild wind tossed them about like toys.
+
+"I'm frighted to go to bed," wailed little Jinty Ransom, burying her
+face in Mrs. Barbara's lap, when she had finished saying her prayers.
+
+"Ah, dear, 'taint for we to be frightened at anything God sends! Do'ent
+He hold the storms in the hollow of His hand? And thou, dear maid,
+what's wind and tempest that's only 'fulfilling His word' compared wi'
+life's storms that will gather over thy sunny head one day, sure as
+sure?" Mrs. Barbara, the professor's ancient housekeeper, laid her
+knotted hand on the golden curls on her lap.
+
+But "thou, dear maid" could not look ahead so far. It was more than
+enough for Jinty that Nature's waves and storms were passing over her at
+the moment.
+
+"Sit beside my bed, and talk me to sleep, please, Mrs. Barbara, dear!"
+entreated the little girl, clutching tightly at the old lady's skirts.
+
+So Mrs. Barbara seated herself, knitting in hand, by the little white
+bed, and Jinty listened to the stories she loved best of all, those of
+the days when her father was a little boy and played under the great
+elms of Old Studley with Mike, the ancient raven, that some people
+declared was a hundred years old at least. He was little more than a
+dream-father, for he had been for most of Jinty's little life away in
+far-off China in the diplomatic service. Her sweet, young, gentle mother
+Jinty did not remember at all, for she dwelt in a land that is
+far-and-away farther off than China, a land:
+
+          "Where loyal hearts and true
+             Stand ever in the light,
+           All rapture through and through
+             In God's most holy sight."
+
+"And, really and truly, Mrs. Barbara, was it the very same Mike and not
+another raven that pecked at father's little legs same's he pecks at
+mine?" Jinty inquired sleepily.
+
+"The very self-same. Thief that he is and was!" wrathfully said Mrs.
+Barbara, who detested the venerable raven, a bird that gave himself the
+airs of being one of the family of Old Studley, and stirred up more
+mischief than a dozen human boys even.
+
+"Why," grumbled on the old lady, "there's poor Sally Bent, the henwife,
+she's driven distracted with Mike's thievish tricks. This week only he
+stole seven eggs, three on 'em turkey's eggs no less. He set himself on
+the watch, he did, and as soon as an egg was laid he nipped it up warm,
+and away with it! If 'twasn't for master's anger I'd strangle that evil
+bird, I should. Why, bless her! The little maid's asleep, she is!"
+
+And Mrs. Barbara crept away to see after her other helpless charge, the
+good old professor who lived so far back in the musty-fusty past that he
+would never remember to feed his body, so busy was he in feasting his
+mind on the dead languages.
+
+Next morning the tearing winds had departed, the stately elms were
+motionless at rest, and the sun beat down with a fierce radiance, upon
+the red brick walls of Old Studley.
+
+Jinty Ransom leaned out of her latticed window and smiled contentedly
+back at the genial sun.
+
+"Ah, thou maid, come down and count over the crocus flowers!" called up
+Mrs. Barbara from the green lawn below. "I fear me that thief Mike has
+nipped off the heads of a few dozens, out o' pure wicked mischief."
+
+Presently Jinty was flashing like a sunbeam in and out of the old house.
+
+"I must go round and scold Mike, then I'll come, back for breakfast,
+Mrs. Barbara. Grandpapa's not down yet."
+
+[Sidenote: Mike on the War-path]
+
+But scolding's a game two can play at. Mike charged at Jinty with a
+volley of angry chatter and fierce flappings of his heavy black wings.
+It was no good trying to get in a word about the headless crocus plants
+or the seven stolen eggs.
+
+"Anybody would think that I was the thief who stole them, not you!"
+indignantly said Jinty. Then Mike craned suddenly forward to give the
+straight little legs a wicked nip, and Jinty fled with shrieks, to the
+proud ecstasy of the raven, who "hirpled" at her heels into the
+dining-room, into the learned presence of the old professor, by whom the
+mischievous Mike was welcomed as if he were a prince of the blood.
+
+The raven knew, none better, that he had the freedom of the city, and at
+once set to work to abuse it. A sorry breakfast-table it was in less
+than five minutes. Here and there over the white tablecloth Mike
+scuttled and scrambled. His beak plunged into the cream-jug, then deep
+into the butter, next aimed a dab at the marmalade, and then he uttered
+a wrathful shriek became the bacon was too hot for his taste.
+
+"My patience! Flesh and blood couldn't stand this!" Mrs. Barbara came
+in, her hands in the air.
+
+But the professor neither saw nor heard the old housekeeper's anger.
+
+"Wonderful, wonderful!" he was admiringly ejaculating. "Behold the
+amazing instinct implanted by nature. See how the feathered epicure
+picks and chooses his morning meal!"
+
+"If a 'feathered pickyer' means a black thief as ever was, sir, that
+bird's well named!" said the housekeeper wrathfully.
+
+At last Mike made his final choice, and, out of pure contrariness, it
+was the bowl of hot bread and milk prepared for Jinty's breakfast from
+which he flatly refused to be elbowed away.
+
+"My pretty! Has it snatched the very cup from thy lip!" Mrs. Barbara's
+indignation boiled over against the bold audacious tyrant so abetted by
+its master--and hers. "If I'd but my will o' thee, thou thief, I'd flog
+thee sore!" she added.
+
+          "Quoth the raven: never more!"
+
+solemnly edged in the professor, with a ponderous chuckle over his own
+aptitude which went unapplauded save by himself.
+
+"I want my breakfast, grandpapa," whimpered Jinty.
+
+It was all very funny indeed to witness Mike's reckless charge of
+destruction over the snowy tablecloth, but, when it came to his calm
+appropriation of her own breakfast, why, as Mrs. Barbara said, "Flesh
+and blood couldn't stand it."
+
+"Have a cup of black coffee and some omelette, dearling!" said the
+professor, who would not have called anybody "darling" for the world.
+Then the reckless old gentleman proceeded to placidly sort the letters
+lying on the breakfast-table, comfortably unconscious that little maids
+"cometh up" on different fare from that of tough old veterans.
+
+"Why, why! Here's a surprise for us all!" Pushing back his spectacles
+into the very roots of his white hair, the professor stared feebly round
+on the company, and twiddled in his fingers a sheet of thin foreign
+paper.
+
+"Yes, sir?" Mrs. Barbara turned to her master eagerly alert for the
+news, and Jinty wondered if it were to say the dream-father was coming
+home at last.
+
+But Mike, though some folk believe that ravens understand every word you
+say, continued to dip again and again into his stolen bread and milk
+with a lofty indifference. It might be an earthquake that had come to
+Old Studley for all he knew. What if it were? There would always be a
+ledge of rock somewhere about where he, Mike, could hold on in safety if
+the earth were topsy-turvy. Besides, he had now scooped up the last
+scrap of Jinty's breakfast, and it behoved him to be up and doing some
+mischief.
+
+His bold black eye caught a gleam of silver, an opportunity ready to his
+beak. It was a quaint little Norwegian silver salt-cellar in the form of
+a swan. Mike, with his head on one side, considered the feasibility of
+removing that ancient Norse relic quietly. Then, afraid perhaps of
+bringing about bad luck by spilling the salt, he gave up the idea and
+stole softly away, unnoticed by his betters, who seemed ridiculously
+occupied with a thin, rustling sheet of paper.
+
+But to this day Mrs. Barbara has never found the salt-spoon, a little
+silver oar, belonging to that Norse salt-cellar, and she never will,
+that's certain.
+
+"Extraordinary, most extraordinary!" the professor was repeating. Then,
+when Mrs. Barbara felt she could bear it no longer, he went on to read
+out the foreign letter.
+
+It was from his son, Jinty's father, and told how his life had been
+recently in grave peril. His house had been attacked by native rioters,
+and he would certainly have been murdered had it not been for the
+warning of a friendly Chinaman. Mr. Ransom escaped in the darkness, but
+the loyal native who had saved him, paid the cost with his own life. He
+was cruelly hacked to pieces for his so-called treachery. When the
+rioters were quelled by a British detachment, Mr. Ransom's first
+thought was for the family of his faithful friend. But it was too late.
+With the exception of one tiny girl all had been killed by the rioters.
+This forlorn little orphan was already on her way crossing the Pacific,
+for she was to be housed and educated at Old Studley with Mr. Ransom's
+own little daughter, and at his expense. Common gratitude could do no
+less.
+
+[Sidenote: Ah Lon]
+
+The letter went on to say that Ah Lon, the little Chinese maiden, was a
+well-brought-up child, her father belonging to the anti-foot-binding
+community which is fast making its way throughout China. She would
+therefore be no more trouble in the old home than a little English girl,
+than father's own Jinty, in fact.
+
+"Well, of course," said the Professor meditatively, "the heavy end of
+the beam will come upon you, my good Barbara. There's plenty of room in
+the old house for this young stranger, but she will be a great charge
+for you."
+
+"'Deed, sir, and it's a charge I never looked to have put upon me!"
+quavered the scandalised Mrs. Barbara, twisting the corner of her apron
+agitatedly. "A haythen Chinee under this respected roof where there's
+been none but Christian Ransoms for generations back!"
+
+"There, there!" said her master soothingly. "Your motherly heart would
+never turn away a poor orphan from our door!"
+
+But Mrs. Barbara sniffed herself out of the room, and it was weeks
+before she reconciled herself to the new and disagreeable prospect.
+
+Indeed, when poor, shivering Ah Lon arrived at Old Studley, the good
+woman nearly swooned at the spectacle of a little visitor arrayed in
+dark blue raiment consisting of a long, square-shaped jacket and full
+trousers, and a bare head stuck over with well-oiled queues of black
+hair.
+
+"I thought as Mr. William wrote it was a girl, sir!" she gasped faintly,
+with a shocked face.
+
+But the old professor was in ecstasies. All he could think of was the
+fact that under his roof was a being who could converse in pure Chinese;
+in truth, poor bewildered Ah Lon could not speak in anything else but
+her native tongue. He would have carried her off to his study and
+monopolised her, but Mrs. Barbara's sense of propriety was fired.
+
+"No, sir," she interposed firmly. "If that being's the girl Mr. William
+sent she's got to look as such in some of Miss Jinty's garments and
+immediately."
+
+So Ah Lon, trembling like a leaf, was carried off to be attired like a
+little English child.
+
+"But as for looking like one, that she never will!" Mrs. Barbara
+hopelessly regarded the strangely-wide little yellow face, the singular
+eyes narrow as slits, and the still more singular eyebrows.
+
+"Oh, never mind how she looks!" Jinty put her arms round the little
+yellow neck and lovingly kissed the stranger, who summarily shook her
+off. Perhaps Ah Lon was not accustomed to kisses at home.
+
+It was a rebuff, and Jinty got many another as the days went on. Do what
+she could to please and amuse the little foreigner, Ah Lon shrank from
+her persistently.
+
+[Illustration: HORRIBLE DREAMS OF MONSTERS AND DEMONS.]
+
+All Jinty's treasures, dolls and toys and keepsakes were exhibited, but
+Ah Lon turned away indifferently. The Chinese girl, in truth, was deadly
+home-sick, but she would have died rather than confess it, even to the
+professor, the only person who understood her speech. She detested the
+new, strange country, the queer, unknown food, the outlandish ways. Yet
+she was in many respects happier. Some of the old hardships of girl life
+in China were gone. Some old fears began to vanish, and her nights were
+no longer disturbed with horrible dreams of monsters and demons.
+
+But of all things in and about Old Studley Ah Lon most detested Mike the
+raven, and Mike seemed fully to return her dislike. He pecked viciously
+at the spindly Chinese legs and sent Ah Lon into convulsions of terror.
+
+"Ah well, bad as he is, Mike's British same's I am, and he do hate a
+foreigner!" said Mrs. Barbara appreciatively.
+
+Time went on and Jinty began to shoot up; she was growing quite tall,
+and Ah Lon also grew apace. But, still, though the little foreigner
+could now find her way about in the language of her new country, she
+shut her heart against kind little Jinty's advances.
+
+"She won't have anything to say to me!" complained Jinty, "she won't
+make friends, Mrs. Barbara! The only thing she will look at is my pearl
+locket, she likes that!"
+
+Indeed Ah Lon seemed never tired of gazing at the pearl-rimmed locket
+which hung by a slender little chain round Jinty's neck, and contained
+the miniature of her pretty young mother so long dead. The little
+Chinese never tired of stroking the sweet face looking out from the rim
+of pearls.
+
+"Do you say prayers to it?" she asked, in her stammering English.
+
+"Prayers, no!" Jinty was shocked. "I only pray to our Father and to the
+good Jesus. Why, you wouldn't pray to a picture?"
+
+Ah Lon was silent. So perhaps she had been praying to the sweet painted
+face already, who could say?
+
+It was soon after this talk that the two little girls sat in the study
+one morning. Ah Lon was at the table by the side of the professor, an
+open atlas between them and the old gentleman in his element.
+
+But Jinty sat apart, strangely quiet.
+
+Ah Lon, watching out of her slits of eyes, had never seen Jinty so dull
+and silent. And all that summer day it was the same.
+
+"What's amiss with my dear maid?" anxiously asked Mrs. Barbara, when
+bed-time came.
+
+Then it all came out.
+
+"I've lost my pearl-rimmed locket!" sobbed Jinty. "Ah Lon asked to look
+at it this morning the first thing; she always does, you know. And I
+took it off, and then Mike pecked my legs and Ah Lon's so hard that we
+both ran away screaming, and I must have dropped the locket--and it's
+gone!"
+
+"Gone! That can't be! Unless--unless----" Mrs. Barbara hesitated, and
+Jinty knew they were thinking the same thing. "Have you told Ah Lon,
+deary?"
+
+"I did this afternoon, and she cried. I never saw her cry before!"
+
+"Ah, jes' so! You can't trust they foreigners. But I'll sift this
+business, I shall!" vigorously said Mrs. Barbara.
+
+But for days the disappearance of the locket was a mystery. In Mrs.
+Barbara's mind there was no doubt that Ah Lon had taken the coveted
+picture and concealed it in safe hiding. Jinty almost thought so too,
+and a gloom crept over Old Studley. "I dursn't tell the master, he's
+that wrapped up in the wicked little yellow-faced creature. I'll step
+over to the parson and tell he," Mrs. Barbara decided, and arraying
+herself in her Sunday best, she sallied forth to the vicarage.
+
+As she crossed the little common shouts and laughter and angry chatter
+fell on her ear.
+
+A group of schoolboys, the parson's four little sons, were closing in
+round a dark object.
+
+"Why, if that isn't our Mike! I never knew the bird to go outside of Old
+Studley before. What----"
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Barbara, do come along here!" Reggie, the eldest of the four,
+turned his head and beckoned her.
+
+[Sidenote: Mike's Mishap]
+
+"Here's a nice go! We've run your Mike in, and see his fury, do! Our
+Tommy was looking for birds' eggs in the Old Studley hedge, and he saw a
+shine of gold and pulled out this! And Mike chased him, madly pecking
+his legs, out here to the common. And now he's fit to fly at me because
+I've got his stolen goods. Look, do!"
+
+Reggie doubled up with yells of laughter, and Mike, in a storm of fury,
+shrieked himself hoarse.
+
+But Mrs. Barbara stood dumb.
+
+In a flash the truth had come to her.
+
+Mike, not poor Ah Lon, was the thief. She tingled all over with
+remorseful shame as she crept home with the locket in her hand.
+
+"Oh, and we thought you had stolen it, Ah Lon dear!" Jinty confessed,
+with wild weeping; but Ah Lon was placidly smoothing the precious little
+picture. It was enough for her that it had come back. "Grandpapa must
+know; he must be told!" went on Jinty, determined not to spare herself.
+
+When the professor heard the whole story he was very quiet indeed. But a
+few days after he went up to London on a little visit, and when he
+returned he called Jinty into the study.
+
+"This," he said, opening a case, "will perhaps make up to the friendless
+little stranger for your unjust suspicions!" He handed Jinty a
+pearl-edged locket with a painting of a Chinese lady's head. "Chinese
+faces are so similar that it may serve as a remembrance of her own
+mother. And this, Jinty dearling, will keep alive in your memory one of
+our Lord's behests!" From another case came a dainty silver bangle
+inside of which Jinty read, with misty eyes, the engraved words: _Judge
+not!_
+
+But already their meaning was engraved on her heart; and--as time won Ah
+Lon's shy affections--she and the little Chinese stranger grew to be as
+true sisters under the roof of Old Studley.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: The artistic life sometimes leaves those who follow it
+largely dependent upon the stimulus and the aid which the devotion of
+others may supply. Rembrandt was a case in point, and the story of his
+sister's life is worth recalling.]
+
+Rembrandt's Sister
+
+A Noble Life Recalled
+
+BY
+
+HENRY WILLIAMS
+
+
+The first glimpse we get of the noble woman who is the subject of this
+sketch gives us the key to her whole character. Her brother, the famous
+Paul Rembrandt, had come home from school in disgrace, and it is as his
+defender that Louise Gerretz first shows herself to the world. Her
+tender, sympathetic heart could find excuse for a brother who would not
+learn Latin because even as a child his heart was set upon becoming a
+painter. We know how he succeeded, but it is not always one's early
+desires are fulfilled so completely as they were in Paul's case.
+
+It was in the evening of the very same day on which Louise championed
+her brother's cause that we find her almost heart-broken, yet bravely
+hiding her own grief and comforting her younger sisters and brothers in
+a terrible affliction, the most terrible that can overtake a family of
+young children. This was the sudden death of the beloved mother, who had
+been an invalid for some time. The father was a drunken sot, who had
+fallen into heavy slumber even while his dying wife was uttering her
+last request to him on earth; this was that he would make an artist of
+the young Paul, instead of a lawyer, as was his intention.
+
+The next day, while preparations were going on for the funeral, the
+brutal husband sought refuge from remorse in the bottle, so that for the
+most part of the day he was hopelessly drunk. In this emergency Louise
+(who was only fifteen) took the direction of affairs into her own hands.
+The little ones had been crying all day for their mother, and would not
+be even separated from the corpse. They were inconsolable, and at last
+the youngest sobbed out, "Who will be our mother now?"
+
+At this question Louise arose, and said, with deep and solemn
+earnestness, "I will!"
+
+There was something in her manner which struck the children with wonder.
+Their tears ceased immediately. It seemed as if an angel stood beside
+Louise, and said, "Behold your mother!"
+
+"Do you not wish me for your mother?" she repeated.
+
+The little ones ran into her embrace. She folded her arms around them,
+and all wept together.
+
+She had conquered the children with love, and they were no more trouble
+to her. They all gladly gave the promise to look up to and obey her in
+everything.
+
+But a harder task was before her. Strangers were present who must soon
+find out that her father was intoxicated, on this day of all others, if
+she did not get him out of the way. She succeeded at last, after
+infinite pains, and that so well that no one knew the state he was in,
+and thus he was saved from the open disgrace that would surely have
+followed him had it got about.
+
+The sad duties of the funeral over, Louise Gerretz braced herself to the
+task of looking after the numerous household affairs. Nor was this all
+she had to do, for her father carried on the business of a miller, and
+because of his drunken habits his daughter had the workpeople to look
+after, and also the shop to attend to. But she was sustained by the
+thought that her sainted mother was looking on her from heaven, and this
+helped her to bear up during the trying times that followed.
+
+She now determined that, if it were possible, her brother Paul--who,
+afterwards following the usual custom amongst painters of the time,
+changed his name to Rembrandt--should have every opportunity afforded
+him of following his natural bent.
+
+[Sidenote: "I will be a Painter!"]
+
+But no sooner was the subject broached to M. Gerretz than his anger
+blazed forth, and though Louise withstood him for some time, she felt
+her cherished plans would receive no consideration whatever from a
+father who was three-parts of his time crazed with drink. Little Paul,
+who was present, seeing that the appeal would probably end in failure,
+exclaimed, with determined voice, "I will be a painter!"
+
+A blow aimed at him was his father's reply. The blow missed its mark,
+but struck the sister-mother to the earth. Heedless of his own danger,
+Paul raised his sister's head, and bathed it tenderly until she came to
+herself again. Even the brutish Gerretz was somewhat shocked by what he
+had done, yet seizing what he thought an advantage, he cried, "Hark ye,
+young rascal! You mind not blows any more than my plain orders; but your
+sister helps you out in all your disobedience, and if you offend me I
+will punish her."
+
+The brutal threat had its desired effect, and young Paul returned to
+those studies which were intended to make a lawyer of him.
+
+Every spare moment, however, he spent in his favourite pursuit. His
+materials were of the roughest: a charred stick, a lump of chalk, and a
+flour sack. Not very encouraging tools, one would think, and yet the
+genius that was within would not be hid. He produced from memory a
+portrait of his mother, that had such an effect upon the father that the
+latter, affected to tears by the sight of his dead wife's face,
+dismissed the boy with his blessing, and promised him he should be a
+painter after all.
+
+Great was Louise's joy; and then, like the loving, practical sister she
+was, she immediately set about the young artist's outfit. Nor did she
+pause until everything was in apple-pie order.
+
+Surely God was strengthening and comforting His own. Just consider; here
+was a young girl, now only sixteen years of age, who had the management
+of a miller's business, was a mother and sister in one to three young
+children, and, one is almost tempted to say, was also a tender, loving
+wife to a drunken, incapable father.
+
+The journey to Leyden, whither Paul was bound, was not without incident
+of a somewhat romantic kind. As the vehicle in which Louise and the
+future great painter sat neared Leyden, they came upon a man who lay
+insensible upon the road. The tender heart of the girl was touched, and
+she stopped and restored the man to consciousness, and then pressed
+further assistance upon him. The grateful recipient of her kindness,
+however, soon feeling strong enough, proceeded on his way alone.
+
+The scene had not passed without a witness, though, who proved to be
+none other than the eminent master-painter Van Zwanenburg, who joined
+himself to the little party. But his brow darkened when he learned the
+purport of the young traveller's journey, and he spoke no more for some
+time, for he was a misanthrope, and, consequently, took small share in
+the hopes and pleasures of others. Soon after, however, as they were
+passing a forge, young Paul stopped and clapped his hands with delight
+at the sight of the ruddy light cast on the faces of the workmen.
+
+"Canst thou sketch this scene?" asked Van Zwanenburg. Paul took a
+pencil, and in a few moments traced a sketch, imperfect, no doubt, but
+one in which the principal effects of light and shade especially were
+accurately produced.
+
+"Young girl," said the painter, "you need go no further. I am Van
+Zwanenburg, and I admit your brother from this minute to my studio."
+
+Further conversation ensued, and Van Zwanenburg soon learned the whole
+sorrowful tale, and also the courage and devotedness of this young
+foster-mother. He dismissed her with a blessing, misanthrope even as he
+was, and then carried Paul to his studio, lighter at heart for having
+done a kind action.
+
+Sorrowful, and yet with a glad heart, did Louise part from little Paul,
+and then turn homewards. Little did she dream of the great sorrow that
+was there awaiting her.
+
+[Sidenote: Lost in the Forest]
+
+Arriving at home in the dark, she was startled to find that no one
+answered her repeated knocking. Accompanied by an old servant, who had
+been with her in the journey, she was about to seek assistance from the
+neighbours, when lights were seen in the adjoining forest. She hastened
+towards these, and was dismayed to learn that the two children left at
+home had strayed away and got lost in the forest. M. Gerretz was amongst
+the searchers, nearly frantic. The men were about to give up the search
+when Louise, with a prayer for strength on her lips, appealed to them to
+try once more. She managed to regulate the search this time, sending the
+men off singly in different directions, so as to cover as much ground as
+possible. Then with her father she set out herself.
+
+It was morning when they returned. Gerretz, sober enough now, was
+bearing the insensible form of the brave girl in his arms. She
+recovered, but only to learn that one of the children had been brought
+in dead, while the other was nearly so. This sister thus brought so near
+to death's door was to prove a sore trial in the future to poor Louise.
+
+A hard life lay before Louise, and it was only by God's mercy that she
+was enabled to keep up under the manifold trials that all too thickly
+strewed her path. Her father, sobered for a time by the dreadful death
+of his child, through his own negligence, soon fell back into his evil
+ways, and became more incapable than ever. The business would have gone
+to the dogs had it not been for his heroic daughter, who not only looked
+after the household, but managed the mill and shop as well. All this was
+done in such a quiet, unostentatious manner that no one of their friends
+or customers but thought that the father was the chief manager.
+
+But Louise had other trials in store. Her sister Th�r�se was growing up
+into young womanhood, and rebelled against her gentle, loving authority.
+The father aided Th�r�se in the rebellion, as he thought Louise kept too
+tight a hold of the purse-strings. Between father and sister, poor
+Louise had a hard time of it; she even, at one time, was compelled to
+sell some valued trinkets to pay a bill that was due, because money she
+had put by for the purpose was squandered in drink and finery.
+
+The father died, and then after many years we see Louise Gerretz
+established in the house of Van Zwanenburg the artist, the same who had
+taken young Paul as a pupil. Both Louise and Paul were now his adopted
+children; nor was he without his reward. Under the beneficent rule of
+the gentle Louise things went so smoothly that the artist and his pupils
+blessed the day when she came amongst them.
+
+But before the advent of Louise, her brother Paul had imbibed a great
+share of his master's dark and gloomy nature, and, what was perhaps even
+worse, had already, young as he was, acquired the habit of looking at
+everything from a money-making standpoint.
+
+Another great sorrow was in store for Louise, though she came from the
+ordeal with flying colours, and once more the grand self-sacrificing
+nature of the young woman shone out conspicuous amidst its surroundings
+of sordid self-interest. It was in this way. The nephew of Van
+Zwanenburg, with the approval of his uncle, wooed and eventually
+obtained her consent to their marriage.
+
+On the death of the father, Th�r�se had been taken home by an aunt, who
+possessed considerable means, to Brussels. The aunt was now dead, and
+Th�r�se, who inherited some of her wealth, came to reside near her
+sister and brother. She was prepossessing and attractive, and very soon
+it became evident that the lover of Louise, whose name was Saturnin, had
+transferred his affection to the younger sister. Saturnin, to his
+credit, did try to overcome his passion for Th�r�se, but only found
+himself becoming more hopelessly in love with her handsome face and
+engaging ways. Van Zwanenburg stormed, and even forbade the young man
+his house.
+
+Louise herself seemed to be the only one who did not see how things were
+going. She was happy in her love, which, indeed, was only increased by
+the thought that her promised husband and her sister seemed to be on the
+best of terms.
+
+But one day she received a terrible awakening from her happy dreams. She
+heard two voices whispering, and, almost mechanically, stopped to
+listen. It was Saturnin and Th�r�se. "I will do my duty," Saturnin was
+saying; "I will wed Louise. I will try to hide from her that I have
+loved another, even though I die through it."
+
+Great was the grief of poor Louise, though, brave girl as she was, she
+strove to stifle her feelings, lest she should give pain to those she
+loved. A little later she sought Van Zwanenburg, and begged that he
+would restore Saturnin to favour, and consent to his marriage with
+Th�r�se. She was successful in her mission of love, though not at first.
+
+[Sidenote: A Terrible Blow]
+
+Hiding her almost broken heart, Louise now strove to find comfort in the
+thought that she had made others happy, though she had to admit it was
+at a terrible cost to herself.
+
+Her unselfishness had a great effect upon the old artist, whose
+admiration for his adopted daughter now knew no bounds. Through her he
+was restored to his faith in human nature, and he asked God to forgive
+him for ever doubting the existence of virtue.
+
+We cannot follow Louise Gerretz through the next twenty years. Suffice
+it to say that during that time Van Zwanenburg passed peacefully away,
+and that Paul Rembrandt, whose reputation was now well established, had
+married. The lonely sister tried to get on with Paul's wife, but after a
+few years she had sadly to seek a home of her own.
+
+At the end of the twenty years Louise one day received the following
+curt letter from her miserly brother:
+
+
+          "SISTER,--My wife is dead, my son is travelling, I
+          am alone.
+
+                                             "PAUL REMBRANDT."
+
+The devoted sister, still intent on making others happy, started at once
+to her brother, and until the day of his death she never left him. A
+great change had come over Rembrandt. He had become more morose and
+bitter than ever. Success had only seemed to harden his heart, until
+nothing but the chinking of gold had any effect upon it. He was
+immensely wealthy, but a miser. As the years passed the gloom settled
+deeper upon his soul, until finally he shut himself up in his dark
+studio, and would see no one but Jews and money-brokers. At times he
+would not let a picture go unless it had been covered with gold, as the
+price of it. With all this wealth, the house of the famous painter bore
+a poverty-stricken look, which was copied in the person of Rembrandt
+himself.
+
+Just before the end, when he felt himself seized by his death-sickness,
+Paul one day called his sister to his bedside, and, commanding her to
+raise a trapdoor in the floor of his bedroom, showed her his hoard of
+gold. He then begged, as his last request, that he should be buried
+privately, and that neither his son, nor indeed any one, should know
+that he died rich. Louise was to have everything, and the graceless son
+nothing.
+
+[Sidenote: Louise's Refusal]
+
+Great was his anger when his sister declared she should not keep the
+gold, but would take care that it passed into the hands of those who
+would know how to use it properly. Louise was firm, and Rembrandt was
+powerless to do more than toss about in his distress. But gradually,
+under the gentle admonitions of his sister, the artist's vision seemed
+to expand, and before his death he was enabled to see where and how he
+had made shipwreck of his happiness. Thanks to the ministrations of his
+sister, his end was a peaceful one, and he died blessing her for all her
+devotion to him.
+
+Louise's own useful and devoted life was now near its close.
+
+After winding up the affairs of her brother, she undertook to pay a
+visit to her sister, who had fallen ill. It was too much for the good
+old soul; she died on the journey.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Hepsie's misdeed led, when she understood it, to a bold act
+which had very gratifying results.]
+
+Hepsie's Christmas Visit
+
+BY
+
+MAUD MADDICK
+
+
+"I say, little mother," said Hepsie, as she tucked her hand under Mrs.
+Erldon's arm, and hurried her along the snowy path from the old church
+door, "I say--I've been thinking what a jolly and dear old world this
+is, and if only the people in it were a little bit nicer, why, there
+wouldn't be a thing to grumble at, would there?"
+
+Mrs. Erldon turned her rather sad, but sweet face towards her little
+daughter, and smiled at her.
+
+Somehow folks often _did_ smile at Hepsie. She was such a breezy brisk
+sort of child, and had a way of looking at life in general that was
+distinctly interesting.
+
+"Of course, dearie," she went on, in that protecting little manner
+Hepsie loved to adopt when talking to her beloved mother, "you can't
+imagine I am thinking of people like you. If every one were half--no--a
+quarter as delightful as _you_, the world would be charming. Oh dear no,
+I am not flattering at all, I am just speaking the truth; but there
+aren't many of your kind about, as I find out more and more every day."
+
+"My dearest of little girls," interrupted her mother, as they turned
+into Sunnycoombe Lane, where the snow lay crisply shining, and the trees
+were flecked with that dainty tracing of frozen white, "you look at me
+through glasses of love, and _they_ have a knack of painting a person as
+fair as you wish that one to be. Supposing you give the rest of the
+world a little of their benefit, Hepsie mine!"
+
+[Sidenote: An Unruly Member]
+
+Hepsie flung back her head, and laughed lightly. "Oh, you artful little
+mother! That's your gentle way of telling me, what, of course, I
+know--that I am a horrid girl for impatience and temper, when I get
+vexed; but you know, mother darling, I shall never be able to manage my
+tongue. It was born too long, and though on this very Christmas morning
+I have been making ever so many good resolutions to keep the tiresome
+thing in order--you mark my words, little mother, if it doesn't run off
+in some dreadful way directly it gets the chance--and then you'll be
+grieved--and I shall be sorry--and some one or other will be _in a
+rage_!"
+
+Mrs. Erldon drew in her lips. It was hard to keep from laughing at the
+comical look on the little girl's face, and certainly what she said was
+true. Some one was very often in a rage with Hepsie's tongue. It was a
+most outspoken and unruly member, and yet belonged to the best-hearted
+child in the whole of Sunnycoombe, and the favourite, too, in spite of
+her temper, which was so quickly over, and her repentance always so
+sincere and sweet.
+
+She was looking up into Mrs. Erldon's face now with great honest blue
+eyes in which a faint shadow could be seen.
+
+"I met my grandfather this morning," she said in a quick, rather nervous
+voice, "and I told him he was a wicked old man!"
+
+Her mother turned so white that Hepsie thought she was going to faint,
+and hung on to her arm in terror and remorse.
+
+"Don't look like that!" she burst forth desperately. "I know I ought to
+be shaken, and ought to be ashamed of myself--but it's no use--I'm not
+either one or the other, only I wish I hadn't done it now, because I've
+vexed you on Christmas morning!"
+
+Mrs. Erldon walked along, looking straight ahead.
+
+
+[Illustration: "DO FORGIVE ME, MOTHER DARLING!"]
+
+"I'd rather you did shake me," said Hepsie, in a quivering tone, "only
+you couldn't do such a thing, I know. You're too kind--and I'm always
+saying something I shouldn't. Do forgive me, mother darling! You can't
+think what a relief it was to me to speak like that to my grandfather,
+who thinks he's all the world, and something more, just because he's the
+Lord of the Manor and got a hateful heap of money, and it'll do him good
+(when he's got over his rage) to feel that there's his own little
+granddaughter who isn't afraid of him and tells him the truth----"
+
+"Hepsie!"
+
+Hepsie paused, and stared. Her gentle mother was gazing so strangely and
+sternly at her.
+
+"You are speaking of my father, Hepsie," she said quietly, but in a
+voice new to her child, though it was still gentle and low, "and in
+treating him with disrespect you have hurt me deeply."
+
+"Oh, but mother--darling, darling mother," cried the child, with tears
+springing to her beautiful eyes, "I wouldn't hurt you for a million
+wicked old grandfathers! I'd rather let him do anything he liked that
+was bad to me, but what I can't stand is his making you sad and unhappy,
+and making poor daddy go right away again to that far-away place in
+South Africa, which he never need have done if it hadn't been for being
+poor, though he must be finding money now, or he couldn't send you those
+lovely furs, and----"
+
+"Oh, Hepsie, Hepsie, that little tongue, how it gallops along! Be quiet
+at once, and listen to me! There, dear, I can't bear to see tears in
+your eyes on Christmas Day, and when you and I are just the two together
+on this day--your father so many, many miles distant from us, and
+poor grandfather nursing his anger all alone in the big old house."
+
+Her tone was full of a deep sorrow, and for once, young as she was,
+Hepsie understood that here was an emotion upon which she must not
+remark, though she muttered in her own heart:
+
+"All through his own wicked old temper."
+
+Mrs. Erldon took Hepsie's hand in her own as they walked towards the
+little home at the end of the long country lane.
+
+[Sidenote: Mrs. Erldon Explains]
+
+"I will not scold you, my darling," she said; "but in future never
+forget that God Himself commands that we shall honour our parents, and
+even if they grieve their children, Hepsie, that does not do away with
+children's duty, and a parent is a parent as long as life lasts--to be
+honoured and--loved! You are twelve years old, dear, and big enough now
+to understand how sad I am that my dear old father will not forgive me
+for marrying your father, and I think I had better explain things a
+little to you, Hepsie. There was some one--a rich cousin--whom my father
+had always hoped and wished that I should marry as soon as I was old
+enough; but when I was twenty-one, and was travelling with grandfather,
+you know, that is my own father--we made the acquaintance of a gentleman
+in South Africa--Alfred Erldon--who was of English parentage, but had
+lived out there all his life. Well, Hepsie, I need only say that this
+gentleman and I decided to marry against grandfather's desire. We were
+married in Johannesburg, to his great displeasure, so he refused to have
+anything to do with us, and returned to England, declaring he would
+never speak to me again.
+
+"I never thought that he really meant such a thing, he had always loved
+me so dearly, and I loved him so much. I wrote again and again, but
+there was no answer to any of my letters. Then, my darling, you were
+born, and soon after, the great South African War broke out, and your
+dear father made me leave Johannesburg and bring you to England. Of
+course, I came to the old home--Sunnycoombe--but only to find I was
+still unforgiven, for the letter I sent to say I was in the village was
+not answered either, humbly as I begged my father to see me. All the
+same, Hepsie, I have remained here at your father's wish, for he lost
+money, and had to 'trek north,' as they say, to a wild part of Rhodesia,
+where white women could not go."
+
+Mrs. Erldon's tears were nearly falling as she added: "Things have gone
+badly with him, and only once has he been able to come to England to
+spend a few months with us, as you remember, five years ago, but soon,
+now you are older, I shall go and face the life, however rough it may
+be. Now, no more talk, for here we are, darling, and, please God, this
+may be the last Christmas that we spend without daddy, in England or
+Africa, as it may be."
+
+"And I won't grieve you again to-day, darling little mother," whispered
+Hepsie, quite sobered at the thought of mother without either her daddy
+or Hepsie's on Christmas Day again, and no letter from Africa by the
+usual mail.
+
+[Sidenote: An Afternoon Call]
+
+It was a glorious afternoon, and when Mrs. Erldon settled down for a
+rest, Hepsie asked if she might go out for a run, to which her mother at
+once agreed. In this quiet little peaceful spot in Somersetshire there
+was no reason why a girl of Hepsie's age should not run about freely,
+and so, warmly wrapped up, the child trotted off--but any one watching
+her small determined face would have seen that this was not an ordinary
+walk upon her part.
+
+She left the old lane and turned towards a different part of
+Sunnycoombe. She approached the big Manor House through its wide gates,
+and along broad paths of well-trimmed trees. As she did so Hepsie
+breathed a little more quickly than usual, while a brilliant colour
+stole into her fair young cheeks.
+
+"When one does wrong," she murmured determinedly, "there is only one
+thing to follow--and that is to put the wrong right, if one can. I spoke
+rudely to my darling little mother's own father, and though he's a
+terrible old man, he's got to have an apology, which is a wretched thing
+to have to give; and he's got to hear that his daughter never would and
+never did teach her little girl to be rude, no, not even to a
+cantankerous old grandfather, who won't speak to a lovely sweet woman
+like my mother."
+
+She reached the porch, and pulled fiercely at the old-fashioned bell,
+then fairly jumped at the loud clanging noise that woke the silence of
+the quiet afternoon.
+
+The door opened so suddenly that Hepsie was quite confused, and for the
+moment took the stately old butler for her grandfather himself, offered
+her hand, and then turned crimson.
+
+"Good gracious me!" she said in her brisk voice. "Do you stand behind
+the door all day? You made me jump so that I don't know what I am
+saying, but--well--I must see my grandfather at once, please."
+
+Every one in the village knew all about the child and who she was, and
+the man was more than surprised at seeing her dare to come there, and he
+also felt very nervous.
+
+"You run away, miss," he said in a confidential whisper, "an' more's the
+shame I should have to say so, but, bless your heart, the master
+wouldn't see you, and it's more than I dare to tell him you're wanting."
+
+"You need not trouble," Hepsie said; "if I had not made a big resolution
+to look after my tongue, I should say more than you would enjoy
+hearing--talking to a lady (who comes to visit your master on Christmas
+Day) like you are doing to me; not that you may not mean kindly, now I
+come to think of it, but meaning goes for nothing, my good man, if you
+do a wrong thing, and you can't tell me that you are the one to decide
+whom your master will see or not." She waited to take a breath, while
+the man rubbed his white hair in great perplexity, and feeling rather
+breathless himself; but Hepsie calmly walked by him, and before he
+could recover from the shock, he saw her disappear into the dining-room!
+
+Hepsie never forgot that moment.
+
+Seated at a long table was a solitary and lonely-looking figure,
+supporting one thin old cheek on his hand as he rested his elbow on the
+table and seemed to be gazing far away into space. She did not know that
+he was rather deaf, and had not heard her enter, and she stood and
+looked at him, with her heart aching in a funny sort of way, she
+thought, for the sake of a wicked old man.
+
+She stared and stared, and the more she stared, the bigger a lump in her
+throat seemed to become. The room was so quiet and he sat so still, and
+something in his face brought that of her mother to her mind.
+
+At last she walked right up to him, and, feeling if she did not get out
+the words quickly she never would, Hepsie stretched out her hand and
+said: "When I stopped you in the lane to-day, I didn't know how much
+mother still loved you, and I forgot all about honouring parents,
+however unkind they seem, or I shouldn't have told you what I did,
+however true it was, for I hurt mother shockingly, as any one could see,
+and I've promised to look after my tongue much better, and so I just
+rushed up here to say--what I have said--and--and--please that's all,
+except----"
+
+She gulped and choked, her small quivering and scarlet face with the
+pitiful eyes gazing down into his--and the years rolled away in the old
+man's sight, and his daughter was back at his side again. What was she
+saying in that pleading voice, as she knelt and clasped his shaking
+hand?
+
+"Except--except--I'm sorry, I am! Oh--I didn't think how sad you were,
+and can't you love me just a bit?"
+
+And what were Hepsie's feelings then when the old man rose, and seizing
+her in his arms, cried brokenly:
+
+"Oh, child, if only your mother had said the same--only just once in the
+midst of my anger--but she passed her father by, she passed him by! And
+never a word in all these years of my loneliness and pain! My heart is
+breaking, for all its pride!"
+
+"She wrote again and again," declared Hepsie, and he started, and such a
+frown came then, that she was quite frightened, though she repeated,
+"Indeed she did, and she loves you still."
+
+"Then," said he, "they never reached me! Some one has come between us.
+But never mind that now. I must go to your mother. Come," he added, "I
+must fetch my girl back to her home again, until her husband claims her
+from me."
+
+[Sidenote: A Surprise]
+
+But when the two reached the little house in the lane a surprise awaited
+them. They found Mrs. Erldon in her husband's arms. He had returned
+unexpectedly, having, as a successful prospector for gold, done well
+enough to return home at once to fetch his wife and child.
+
+No words could describe the joy in his wife's heart when her father took
+their hands and asked their forgiveness for years of estrangement, and
+told the tale of the intercepted letters, which he might never have
+discovered had it not been for little Hepsie's Christmas visit of peace
+and goodwill.
+
+Hepsie is learning to control that little tongue of hers now, and she
+has, framed in her room, a verse that mother wrote for Hepsie
+especially:
+
+          Take heed of the words that hastily fly,
+          Lest sorrow should weep for them by and by,
+          And the lips that have spoken vainly yearn,
+          Sighing for words that can never return!
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A glimpse of South African travel, with some of the humours
+of the road.]
+
+Our African Driver
+
+BY
+
+J. H. SPETTIGUE
+
+
+"Here comes the wagon to be packed!" called the children, as with a
+creak and groan of wheels, and shouts from the Kafirs, it was brought
+lumbering to the door.
+
+"The vor-chiest is ready, Lang-Jan," said Mrs. Gilbert, coming to the
+door. "Everything that can, had better be put in place to-night."
+
+"Ja, Meeses," agreed Jan. "It's a long trek from this here place to the
+town in one day, and I will start early, while the stars are still out."
+Lang-Jan was our driver, so called to distinguish him from the numerous
+other Jans about the place.
+
+The distinction was appropriate, for he looked very tall and slim,
+though it might be the contrast with his wife's massive build that gave
+him a false presentment. He was more proud of her bulk than of his own
+height, and used to jeer at his Hottentot leader for the scraggy
+appearance of _his_ weaker half, possibly with the kindly intention of
+reducing the number, or severity, of the poor creature's beatings.
+
+I do not believe Jan ever beat his wife, though I think she was as lazy
+a woman as could be found. Perhaps he got most of his rations provided
+from the house, and was not dependent on her for his comfort.
+
+However, he seemed to me to have a Mark Tapley temper; the more
+unendurable the weather got, the cheerier he grew with his guttural and
+yet limpid cries to the oxen, and his brisk steps by their side.
+
+There was one thing, however, he could not see in patience--an amateur
+who had borrowed his whip with the proud intention of "helping to drive"
+letting the end of four yards of lash draggle over the dewy karoo,
+thereby making it limp and reducing its power to clack in the approved
+fashion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Sidenote: An Early Start]
+
+"We had better sleep in the wagon, then we shall not be disturbed so
+early," cried one of the children; but we older people preferred the
+idea of half a night's rest indoors to lying awake on the cartels in the
+wagon listening to the tossings and complaints of others.
+
+We had been staying by the sea, and were now to journey homewards. Long
+before daylight, the noise of the oxen and clank of trek-chain told that
+inspanning was begun, and those of us who were to form the wagon party
+sprang out of bed and made a hurried toilet, while the Kafir women
+carried off the feather-beds and blankets, to stow in their allotted
+places in the wagon.
+
+Mr. Gilbert and his wife, with the younger children, were to follow in a
+four-horse Cape-cart.
+
+"Isn't it too dark to be trekking?" he called from his window.
+
+"The roads is good down here," said Jan. "I can see enough"; and he
+hurried his leader, and got us under way without more ado.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We had the front curtain of the tent rolled up, and sat about on the
+boxes in silence for some time, listening to the plash of the sea upon
+the beach, every minute somebody giving a yawn.
+
+"I cannot think why Lang-Jan is hurrying on so," said Constance at
+last, "unless he thinks it will be a very hot day again. The oxen gave
+out as we were coming down, and we had to outspan about five miles off."
+
+"I _was_ cross," said a younger sister.
+
+"You need not tell us that. We have not forgotten," laughed another.
+
+"Well, I thought I could hear the sea, and I had been meaning to run
+down and have a bathe directly we stopped. It was enough to make one
+cross. And then that stupid old Kafir and Jan over the outspan money,
+and our none of us being able to find any change. I believe Jan was glad
+we couldn't pay."
+
+"Jan resents having to pay outspan money: he will wriggle out of it if
+he can," said Constance.
+
+We had gone the first three or four miles with plenty of noise, clack of
+whip and shout at team, but this gradually subsided, and with a warning
+to April, the leader, to have the oxen well in the middle of the road
+and to keep right on, Jan sank into such silence as was possible.
+
+Constance rose, and began to fumble for her purse.
+
+We heard a stealthy order to April to run, and the whip sounded again
+about one ox and another, while we were tipped about in all directions
+as the team suddenly put on a tremendous spurt.
+
+In the dim light we could see the outlines of a hut close by the road,
+and a Kafir sprang out of the doorway towards us shouting for his money.
+Jan took no notice, but whipped and shouted and trotted along as if his
+were the only voice upraised.
+
+"Stop, Jan, stop!" called Constance.
+
+But Jan was suddenly deaf. The other man was not, however, and he ran
+along after us, followed by a string of undressed children, shouting and
+gesticulating wildly.
+
+"Jan, I insist upon stopping," called Constance. "April, stop the oxen."
+
+In spite of all the noise Jan was making, April could not fail to hear
+the indignant cry of his young mistress, and presently the wagon was
+halted. Jan hastily popped the whip into the wagon and turned back to
+confront his enemy.
+
+"What do you mean by stopping a wagon in the road like this? Outspan
+money? We have not outspanned and are not going to on your starved old
+veldt."
+
+"Jan, Jan, you know very well we are owing him two shillings from the
+last time we passed," said Constance.
+
+The stranger Kafir tried to get to the wagon, but Jan barred the
+passage. He changed his tactics. "Come, let's fight for it," he cried,
+casting his hat and scarlet head-handkerchief into the karoo out of the
+way.
+
+This offer was declined without thanks. "I shan't fight. The money is
+mine," protested the other, encouraged by finding his demand was allowed
+by the ladies.
+
+"April, leave the oxen and come here," called Constance. "Give this
+money to him."
+
+[Sidenote: Jan's Principles]
+
+This was done at last, to Jan's grief. "Ah, Mees Constance! Why didn't
+you let me fight him? he was only a little thieving Fingo dog! I didn't
+outspan in sight of his old hut, and he must have come sneaking around
+and seen us, and never said he would have money till it was too late."
+
+"Well, Jan, and why should our oxen eat up the grass and drink out of
+the dam without our paying?" asked Constance; but Jan only muttered,
+"Thief! Dog!" and got away from the scene of his defeat with speed.
+
+"That was why we were obliged to start in the middle of the night: Jan
+wanted to slip by here before the wagon could be recognised," said
+Constance. Jan had made a stand for his principles, though his
+mistress's perverted sense of justice had prevented his being able to
+carry them out. By the time we stopped for breakfast he had quite
+recovered his spirits; and when he found he had got his party well away
+from the place without another hateful demand, he seemed to have
+forgotten his hard fate in the early morning. When we reached the town
+we lost sight of Jan and his wagon for a couple of days, and took up our
+abode at an hotel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A change had taken place in our party when we collected for the second
+and longer part of our journey. Mr. Gilbert had gone home with some of
+the younger ones the day before, while his wife had stayed in town to
+take the rest of us to a ball.
+
+We were all tired as we reached the wagon, with our minds running on the
+purchases we had made, and lingering regretfully on some we had not.
+
+Lang-Jan and April hurried off to fetch the oxen as soon as we appeared;
+and Mrs. Gilbert began to go through the stores.
+
+"Those two Kafirs have eaten up our butter!" she exclaimed indignantly.
+"I saw what was left when you came, and thought it might not be quite
+enough. It is lucky I did, and have bought some more, or we should have
+had none at all. I cannot let such a thing as their taking our
+provisions pass without notice.--Jan," she said, when he returned, "you
+have taken my butter."
+
+"Oh, Meeses!" exclaimed Jan, as if such a thing was quite out of the
+question, "not me. It must ha' bin April."
+
+"No, Meeses--not me, Jan," said April.
+
+"It was both of you, I have no doubt," said Mrs. Gilbert severely.
+
+"Oh, Meeses, April, April!" cried Jan, shaking his head.
+
+"No, it was Jan," protested the leader, again.
+
+Jan burst into a roar of laughter, like a naughty child owning up. "Oh!
+ja, Meeses! It was me. I looked at that tin of butter and then I said to
+April, 'I must have some of that lovely butter, whatever comes of it,'
+and then between us, it's all gone."
+
+It seemed impossible to deal with the offence gravely after that. "I
+shall know I must not leave any in the wagon another time," said the
+mistress; and we scrambled into our places to be out of the way while
+the work of inspanning went on.
+
+[Sidenote: A Fiery Day]
+
+The morning turned into a fiery day. The air shimmered blindingly above
+the veldt, and the white road, inches deep in dust, trailed ahead like
+an endless serpent. We panted and gasped under the shelter of the tent;
+April abandoned his post and climbed up in the back compartment of the
+wagon, but Jan grew more and more lively.
+
+He tightened his waist-belt and ran by the side of his team, encouraging
+them by voice and example.
+
+He wore an old soft felt hat, with a perfectly abject brim, above his
+scarlet handkerchief, and every quarter of a mile he would take it off
+and put the ostrich feather that adorned one side straight up, and
+attempt to pinch the limp brim into shape.
+
+In spite of his cheerful snatches of song, and his encouraging cries,
+the poor beasts showed more and more signs of distress, till at last Jan
+turned to Mrs. Gilbert and said, "The poor oxen is just done up. We must
+outspan till it gets cooler."
+
+"What, outspan in this pitiless place, with not a house, or a tree, or
+water to be got at!" cried one of the girls.
+
+"There is a water-hole down there," said Jan, pointing to a dip in the
+ground not far off.
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Gilbert, "I have been down there on horseback."
+
+The wagon was drawn off the road, and the weary oxen let loose, while we
+stretched ourselves on the cartels, but found the heat too great to let
+us recover any of our lost sleep.
+
+After a time some of us, thinking any change must be for the better,
+dragged ourselves out into the glare, and went to look at the pool of
+water. But though a few prickly pears and mimosa bushes grew around, it
+was not an inviting spot to rest in, and we laboured back across the
+scorching ground to the wagon, our only benefit being more thankfulness
+for its shelter.
+
+April had gone off to see that the oxen did not wander too far. Jan
+lighted a fire, made coffee for us, and broiled some meat and green
+mealie cobs.
+
+We felt better after our meal, though we had not been hungry for it.
+Then, to my surprise, Jan settled down to enjoy his share, as close to
+the fire as he could. I do not know if the burning scrub made a little
+motion in the air, or if Jan, by roasting one half of his body, felt the
+other cooler by contrast.
+
+Presently I saw, coming slowly across the veldt, a white-haired Kafir,
+carrying a weakly lamb in his arms. He made straight for Jan and sat
+down beside him.
+
+Constance, who was looking out too, roused herself and gave a little
+laugh. "Caught," she said, and I knew what she meant.
+
+At first the palaver seemed amiable enough, and we saw Jan even go the
+length of making a present of grilled mutton--chiefly bone, but not all.
+
+"An attempt at bribery," murmured Constance.
+
+In about half an hour we heard the inevitable demand. One might have
+thought Jan had never heard of outspan money, instead of its being a
+familiar and heating subject with him. When at last the claim was made
+clear to him, he asked the name of the Baas, and expressed the greatest
+surprise that any man could be so mean as to ask for money, just because
+poor souls had to wait by the road till it got cool, when it was too hot
+even for the oxen to eat anything.
+
+The explanation that the place was such a convenient distance from town,
+that if nothing was charged the Baas would have nothing left for his own
+flocks and herds, was badly received, as was also the reminder that if
+it was too hot for the oxen to eat much, they would drink all the same.
+The two argued for an hour, Jan emphatic and expostulating, the old
+Kafir calm, feeling both right and law were on his side.
+
+[Sidenote: "We shan't Pay"]
+
+At length, Jan surprised us by announcing, "We shan't pay. Your Baas
+won't expect money from me anyhow, if he does from other people."
+
+"Why not?" exclaimed the other in surprise, for Jan spoke with
+conviction.
+
+"My Baas' wife is cousin to your Baas' wife, so of course we're free on
+his veldt."
+
+We laughed, but the collector remarked that he would go and inquire. So
+he marched up to the wagon, followed closely by Lang-Jan, in fear of
+treachery, and asked Mrs. Gilbert if it was true, and being informed
+that the ladies were related, he retired at once, and Jan triumphantly
+accompanied him back to the fire.
+
+I thought Jan would be happy now the wicked had ceased from troubling,
+but the storm had its after-roll. He now expressed indignation that two
+shillings had been demanded. If such an iniquitous claim was made at
+all, one shilling was all that should be asked for.
+
+They harried this point till the stranger asked Jan what odds it was to
+him--he did not pay the money.
+
+"Don't I pay the money?" cried Jan. "Isn't it taken out of my very
+hand?"
+
+"Oh, ja! But it comes out of the Baas' pocket."
+
+"It comes out of my very hand," reiterated Jan, springing up; and
+fetching his whip, he gave three tremendous clacks with it, the signal
+to April, that could be heard a mile away in the still air, to bring
+back the oxen; and the baffled enemy picked up his lamb and retired from
+action.
+
+Jan was jubilant, and cheerfully agreed to Mrs. Gilbert's suggestions as
+to the best camping-place for the night.
+
+But I think his triumph was demoralising for him. As evening settled
+down and we were getting towards our resting-place, we passed by a rare
+thing--a long wooden fence; and we soon saw that Jan and April were
+freely helping themselves to the dry wood, and stowing it at the sides
+of the wagon to save themselves the trouble of collecting any later.
+
+"Jan," called his mistress, "you must not steal that wood. The man it
+belongs to told the Baas he lost so much that he should put somebody to
+watch, and have any one who was caught taken before Mr. Huntly."
+
+"April," shouted Jan, laughing, "look out for old Huntly. The Meeses
+says we must stop it."
+
+Later, when we had outspanned for the night, and they had broiled our
+sausages, and made the coffee with chuckling anticipation of remainders,
+they made such a fire as scared Mrs. Gilbert, lest they should set the
+dry karoo around alight.
+
+"Here, April, we must beat it down a bit. The Meeses is feared we shall
+set the moon afire," laughed Jan, laying about him with a will, as the
+flames leaped heavenward.
+
+The next morning he had to cross a river, and pay toll at the bridge.
+Why Lang-Jan never objected to that, I do not know, but he came quite
+meekly for the money. His mistress had not the exact sum, and Jan was
+some time inside the toll-house, which was also a store.
+
+On emerging, he shouted and whipped up his oxen, and off we lumbered.
+
+When we came to a hill, and our pace was sufficiently slackened for
+speech, Mrs. Gilbert called to him, "Jan, where is my change?"
+
+"Oh, Meeses!" exclaimed Jan, quite unabashed; "I took the change in
+tobacco!"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Many girls long for an opportunity to "do something." That
+was Claudia's way. And, after all, there _was_ an opportunity. Where?]
+
+Claudia's Place
+
+BY
+
+A. R. BUCKLAND
+
+
+"What I feel," said Claudia Haberton, sitting up with a movement of
+indignation, "is the miserable lack of purpose in one's life."
+
+"Nothing to do?" said Mary Windsor.
+
+"To do! Yes, of a kind; common, insignificant work about which it is
+impossible to feel any enthusiasm."
+
+"'The trivial round'?"
+
+"Trivial enough. A thousand could do it as well or better than I can. I
+want more--to feel that I am in my place, and doing the very thing for
+which I am fitted."
+
+"Sure your liver is all right?"
+
+"There you go; just like the others. One can't express a wish to be of
+more use in the world without people muttering about discontent, and
+telling you you are out of sorts."
+
+"Well, I had better go before I say worse." And Mary went.
+
+Perhaps it was as well; for Claudia's aspirations were so often
+expressed in terms like these that she began to bore her friends. One,
+in a moment of exasperation, had advised her to go out as a nursery
+governess. "You would," she said, "have a wonderful opportunity of
+showing what is in you, and if you really succeed, you might make at
+least one mother happy." But Claudia put the idea aside with scorn.
+
+Another said it all came of being surrounded with comfort, and that if
+Claudia had been poorer, she would have been troubled with no such
+yearnings; the actual anxieties of life would have filled the vacuum.
+That, too, brought a cloud over their friendship. And the problem
+remained unsolved.
+
+Mr. Haberton, immersed in affairs, had little time to consider his
+daughter's whims. Mrs. Haberton, long an invalid, was too much occupied
+in battling with her own ailments, and bearing the pain which was her
+daily lot, to feel acute sympathy with Claudia's woes.
+
+"My dear," she said one day, when her daughter had been more than
+commonly eloquent upon the want of purpose in her life, "why don't you
+think of some occupation?"
+
+"But what occupation?" said Claudia. "Here I am at home, with everything
+around me, and no wants to supply----"
+
+"That is something," put in Mrs. Haberton.
+
+"Oh, yes, people always tell you that; but after all, wouldn't it be
+better to have life to face, and to----"
+
+"Poor dear!" said Mrs. Haberton, stroking her daughter's cheek with a
+thin hand.
+
+"Please don't, mamma," said Claudia; "you know how I dislike being
+petted like a child."
+
+"My dear," said Mrs. Haberton, "I feel my pain again; do give me my
+medicine."
+
+She had asked for it a quarter of an hour before, but Claudia had
+forgotten so trivial a matter in the statement of her own woes. Now she
+looked keenly at her mother to see if this request was but an attempt to
+create a diversion. But the drawn look was sufficient. She hastily
+measured out the medicine, and as hastily left the room saying, "I
+will send Pinsett to you at once."
+
+Pinsett was Mrs. Haberton's maid, who was speedily upon the spot to deal
+with the invalid.
+
+But Claudia had withdrawn to her own room, where she was soon deep in a
+pamphlet upon the social position of Woman, her true Rights in the
+World, and the noble opportunities for Serving Mankind outside the home.
+
+[Sidenote: Wanted--a Career]
+
+"Ah," said Claudia to herself, "if I could only find some occupation
+which would give a purpose to existence--something which would make me
+really useful!"
+
+After all, was there any reason why she should not? There was Eroica
+Baldwin, who had become a hospital nurse, and wore the neatest possible
+costume with quite inimitable grace. It might be worth while asking her
+a few questions. It was true she had never much cared for Eroica; she
+was so tall and strong, so absurdly healthy, and so intolerant of one's
+aspirations. Still, her experience might be of use.
+
+There was Babette Irving--a foolish name, but it was her parents' fault;
+they had apparently thought she would always remain an infant in arms.
+Her father had married again, and Babette was keeping house with another
+woman of talent.
+
+[Illustration: HER VERY YOUTH PLEADED FOR HER.]
+
+Babette had taken to the pen. Her very youth at first pleaded for her
+with editors, and she got some work. Then more came; but never quite
+enough. Now she wrote stories for children and for the "young person,"
+conducted a "Children's Column" in a weekly paper, supplied "Answers to
+Correspondents" upon a startling variety of absurd questions, and just
+contrived to live thereby.
+
+Babette's friend had been reared in the lap of luxury until a woeful
+year in the City made her father a bankrupt, and sent her to earn her
+living as a teacher of singing. They ought to have some advice to give.
+
+Then there was Sarah Griffin--"plain Sarah," as some of the unkind had
+chosen to call her at school. She was one of nine girls, and when her
+father died suddenly, and was found to have made but poor provision for
+his family, she had been thankful to find a place in a shop where an
+association of ladies endeavoured to get a sale for the work of
+"distressed gentlewomen."
+
+She also ought to know something of the world. Perhaps, she, too, could
+offer some suggestion as to how the life of a poor aimless thing like
+Claudia Haberton might be animated by a purpose.
+
+But they all lived in London, the very place, as Claudia felt, where
+women of spirit and of "views" should be. If she could but have a few
+hours of chat with each! And, after all, no doubt, this could be
+arranged. It was but a little time since Aunt Jane and Aunt Ruth had
+asked when she was going to cheer them with another visit. Might not
+their invitation give her just the opportunity she sought?
+
+Claudia reflected. She had not in the past cared much for her aunts'
+household. The elderly maiden ladies were "the dearest creatures," she
+told herself; but they were not interesting. Aunt Jane was always
+engaged in knitting with red wool, any fragments of attention which
+could be given from that task being devoted to Molossus, the toy
+terrier, who almost dwelt in her lap. Aunt Ruth was equally devoted in
+the matter of embroidery, and in the watchful eye she kept upon the
+movements of Scipio, a Persian cat of lofty lineage and austere mien.
+
+Their other interests were few, and were mainly centred upon their
+pensioners amongst the poor. Their friends were of their own generation.
+Thus in the past Claudia had not felt any eager yearning for the house
+in St. John's Wood, where the sisters dwelt at peace. But it was
+otherwise now, because Claudia had new designs upon London.
+
+She confided to her mother her readiness to accept the recent
+invitation.
+
+"Go, my dear, by all means," said the invalid; "I am sure you must want
+a change, especially after so many weeks of looking after me."
+
+"Pinsett," said Claudia, salving her own conscience, "is so very careful
+and efficient."
+
+"And so good," added Mrs. Haberton; "you may be sure I shall be safe in
+her hands."
+
+For the moment Claudia was sensible of a little pang. Ought she to be so
+readily dispensed with? Were her services a quantity which could be
+neglected?
+
+But, after all, this was nothing. She did not neglect her mother; that
+was out of the question.
+
+[Sidenote: Up to Town]
+
+So it was agreed that Claudia should go. Aunt Jane wrote a letter
+expressing her joy at the prospect, and Aunt Ruth added a postscript
+which was as long as the letter, confirming all that her sister had
+said.
+
+So Claudia went up to town, and was received with open arms by her
+aunts.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The placid household at St. John's Wood was all the brighter for
+Claudia's presence; but she could not suffer herself to remain for more
+than a day or two in the light of an ordinary visitor.
+
+"I came this time, you know," she early explained to Aunt Jane, "on a
+voyage of exploration."
+
+"Of what, my dear?" said Aunt Jane, to whom great London was still a
+fearsome place, full of grievous peril.
+
+"Of exploration, you know. I am going to look up a few old friends, and
+see how they live. They are working women, who----"
+
+"But," said Aunt Jane, "do you think you ought to go amongst the poor
+alone?"
+
+"Oh, they aren't poor in that sense, auntie; they are just single women,
+old acquaintances of mine--schoolfellows indeed--who have to work for
+their living. I want to see them again, and find out how they get on,
+whether they have found their place in life, and are happy."
+
+Aunt Jane was not wholly satisfied; but Claudia was not in her teens,
+nor was she a stranger to London. So the scheme was passed, and all the
+more readily because Claudia explained that she did not mean to make her
+calls at random.
+
+Her first voyage was to the flat in which Babette Irving and her friend
+lived. It was in Bloomsbury, and not in a pile of new buildings. In
+old-fashioned phraseology, Miss Irving and her friend would have been
+said to have taken "unfurnished apartments," into which they had moved
+their own possessions. It was a dull house in a dull side street.
+
+Babette said that Lord Macaulay in his younger days was a familiar
+figure in their region, since Zachary Macaulay had lived in a house hard
+by. That was interesting, but did not compensate for the dinginess of
+the surroundings.
+
+Babette herself looked older.
+
+"Worry, my dear, worry," was the only explanation she offered of the
+fact. It seemed ample.
+
+Her room was not decked out with all the prettiness Claudia, with a
+remembrance of other days, had looked for. Babette seemed to make the
+floor her waste-paper basket; and there was a shocking contempt for
+appearance in the way books and papers littered chairs and tables. Nor
+did Babette talk with enthusiasm of her work.
+
+"Enjoy it?" she said, in answer to a question. "I sometimes wish I might
+never see pen, ink, and paper again. That is why I am overdone. But I am
+ashamed to say it; for I magnify my office as a working woman, and am
+thankful to be independent."
+
+"But I thought literary people had such a pleasure in their gift," said
+Claudia.
+
+"Very likely--those eminent persons who tell the interviewers they never
+write more than five hundred words a day. But I am only a hewer of wood
+and a drawer of water, so to speak."
+
+"But the thought of being useful!"
+
+"Yes, and the thought----but here is Susie."
+
+Susie was the friend who taught singing. Claudia thought she had never
+seen a woman look more exhausted; but Claudia knew so little of life.
+
+"You have had a long day, my dear," said Babette, as Susie threw herself
+into a chair; "it is your journey to the poles, isn't it?"
+
+"To the poles?" said Claudia.
+
+"Yes; this is the day she has to be at a Hampstead school from 9.30 till
+12.30, and at a Balham school from 2.30 till 4. It's rather a drive to
+do it, since they are as far as the poles asunder."
+
+"Still," said Claudia, "railway travelling must rest you."
+
+"Not very much," said Susie, "when you travel third class and the trains
+are crowded."
+
+"But it must be so nice to feel that you are really filling a useful
+position in the world."
+
+"I don't know that I am," said Susie, rather wearily. "A good many of my
+pupils have no ear, and had far better be employed at something else."
+
+"But your art!"
+
+"I am afraid few of them think much about that, and what I have to do is
+to see that the parents are well enough pleased to keep their girls on
+at singing. I do my best for them; but one gets tired."
+
+[Sidenote: Another Surprise]
+
+Claudia did not reply. This seemed a sadly mercenary view of work, and a
+little shocked her. But then Claudia had not to earn her own living.
+
+Claudia's inquiries of Sarah Griffin were scarcely more cheerful. Sarah
+was at the shop from 8.30 until 7, and was unable, therefore, to see her
+friend during the day. Aunt Jane and Aunt Ruth insisted that Sarah
+should spend the evening at St. John's Wood, and promised that she
+should leave early in the morning.
+
+She came. Again Claudia marvelled at the change in her friend. Already
+she seemed ten years older than her age; her clothes, if neat, cried
+aloud of a narrow purse. She had lost a good deal of the brightness
+which once marked her, and had gathered instead a patient, worn look
+which had a pathos of its own.
+
+Sarah did not announce her poverty, but under the sympathetic hands of
+Aunt Ruth and Aunt Jane she in time poured out the history of her daily
+life.
+
+She was thankful to be in work, even though it was poorly paid. When
+first in search of occupation, she had spent three weary weeks in going
+from one house of business to another. In some she was treated
+courteously, in a few kindly, in many coarsely, in some insultingly. But
+that was nothing; Sarah knew of girls, far more tenderly reared than she
+had been, whose experiences had been even sadder.
+
+But Claudia hoped that now Sarah really was at work she was comfortable.
+
+Sarah smiled a little wintry smile. Yes, she was comfortable, and very
+thankful to be at work.
+
+Aunt Jane with many apologies wanted more detail.
+
+Then it appeared that Sarah was living on 15s. a week. She lived at a
+home for young women in business; she fed chiefly on bread and butter.
+Her clothes depended upon occasional gifts from friends.
+
+Claudia began to condemn the world for its hardness.
+
+"But I am not clever," said Sarah; "I can do nothing in particular, and
+there are so many of us wanting work."
+
+"And do all these people really need it?"
+
+"Yes; and we all think it hard when girls come and, for the mere
+pleasure of doing something, take such work at a lower wage than those
+can take who must live."
+
+"But look at me," said Claudia; "I don't want the money, but I want the
+occupation; I want to feel I have some definite duties, and some place
+of my own in the world."
+
+Sarah looked a little puzzled. Then she said, "Perhaps Mrs. Warwick
+could help you."
+
+"Who is Mrs. Warwick?"
+
+"Mrs. Warwick is the presiding genius of a ladies' club to which some of
+my friends go. I daresay one of them will be very glad to take us
+there."
+
+So they agreed to go. Claudia felt, it must be owned, a little
+disappointed at what she had heard from her friends, but was inclined to
+believe that between the old life at home and the drudgery for the bare
+means of existence there still lay many things which she could do. She
+revolved the subject in the course of a morning walk on the day they
+were to visit the club, and returned to the shelter of her aunts' home
+with something of her old confidence restored.
+
+Despite their goodness--Claudia could not question that--how poor, she
+thought, looked their simple ways! Aunt Jane sat, as aforetime, at one
+side of the fireplace, Aunt Ruth at the other. Aunt Jane was knitting
+with red wool, as she had always knitted since Claudia had known her.
+Aunt Ruth, with an equal devotion to habit, was working her way through
+a piece of embroidery. Molossus, the toy terrier, was asleep in Aunt
+Jane's lap; Scipio reposed luxuriously at Aunt Ruth's feet.
+
+[Sidenote: Mild Excitement]
+
+It was a peaceful scene; yet it had its mild excitements. The two aunts
+began at once to explain.
+
+"We are so glad you are come in," said Aunt Jane.
+
+"Because old Rooker has been," said Aunt Ruth.
+
+"And with such good news! He has heard from his boy----"
+
+"His boy, you know, who ran away," continued Aunt Ruth.
+
+"He is coming home in a month or two, just to see his father, and is
+then going back again----"
+
+"Back again to America, you know----"
+
+"Where he is doing well----"
+
+"And he sends his father five pounds----"
+
+"And now the old man says he will not need our half-a-crown a week any
+longer----"
+
+"So we can give it to old Mrs. Wimple, his neighbour----"
+
+"A great sufferer, you know, and oh, so patient."
+
+"Really!" said Claudia, a little confused by this antiphonal kind of
+narrative.
+
+"Yes," continued Aunt Jane, "and I see a letter has come in for
+you--from home, I think. So this has been quite an eventful morning."
+
+Claudia took the letter and went up to her own room, reflecting a little
+ungratefully upon the contentment which reigned below.
+
+She opened her letter. It was, she saw, from her mother, written,
+apparently, at two or three sittings, for the last sheet contained a
+most voluminous postscript. She read the opening page of salutation, and
+then laid it down to prepare for luncheon. Musing as she went about her
+room, time slipped away, and the gong was rumbling out its call before
+she was quite ready to go down.
+
+She hurried away, and the letter was left unfinished. It caught her eye
+in the afternoon; but again Claudia was hurried, and resolved that it
+could very well wait until she returned at night.
+
+The club was amusing. Mrs. Warwick, its leading spirit, pleasantly
+mingled a certain motherly sympathy with an unconventional habit of
+manner and speech. There was an address or lecture during the evening by
+a middle-aged woman of great fluency, who rather astounded Claudia by
+the freest possible assumption, and by the most sweeping criticism of
+the established order of things as it affected women. The general
+conversation of the members seemed, however, no less frivolous, though
+much less restrained, than she had heard in drawing-rooms at home.
+
+She parted from Sarah Griffin at the door of the club, and drove to St.
+John's Wood in a hansom. The repose of the house had not been stirred in
+her absence. Aunt Jane, Aunt Ruth, Molossus, and Scipio, all were in
+their accustomed places.
+
+"And here is another letter for you, my dear," said Aunt Jane. "I hope
+the other brought good news?"
+
+Claudia blushed a healthy, honest, old-fashioned blush. She had
+forgotten that letter. Its opening page or so had alone been glanced
+at.
+
+Aunt Jane looked astonished at the confession, but with her placid
+good-nature added: "Of course, my dear, it was the little excitement of
+this evening."
+
+"So natural to young heads," said Aunt Ruth, with a shake of her curls.
+
+But Claudia was ashamed of herself, and ran upstairs for the first
+letter.
+
+[Sidenote: Startling News]
+
+A hasty glance showed her that, whilst it began in ordinary gossip, the
+long postscript dealt with a more serious subject. Mr. Haberton was ill;
+he had driven home late at night from a distance, and had taken a chill.
+Mrs. Haberton hoped it would pass off; Claudia was not to feel alarmed;
+Pinsett had again proved herself invaluable, and between them they could
+nurse the patient comfortably.
+
+Claudia hastened to the second letter. Her fears were justified. Her
+father was worse; pneumonia had set in; the doctor was anxious; they
+were trying to secure a trained nurse; perhaps Claudia would like to
+return as soon as she got the letter.
+
+"When did this come?" asked Claudia eagerly.
+
+"A very few moments after you left," said Aunt Jane. "Of course, if you
+had been here, you might just have caught the eight o'clock train--very
+late, my dear, for you to go by, but with your father so ill----" And
+Aunt Jane wiped a tear away.
+
+Claudia also wept.
+
+"Can nothing be done to-night?" she presently cried. "_Must_ I wait till
+to-morrow? He may be----" But she did not like to finish the sentence.
+
+Aunt Ruth had risen to the occasion; she was already adjusting her
+spectacles with trembling hands in order to explore the _A B C
+Timetable_. A very brief examination of the book showed that Claudia
+could not get home that night. They could only wait until morning.
+
+Claudia spent a sleepless night. She had come up to London to find a
+mission in life. The first great sorrow had fallen upon her home in her
+absence, and by an inexcusable preoccupation she had perhaps made it
+impossible to reach home before her father's death.
+
+She knew that pneumonia often claimed its victims swiftly; she might
+reach home too late.
+
+Her father had been good to her in his own rather stern way. He was not
+a small, weak, or peevish character. To have helped him in sickness
+would have seemed a pleasant duty even to Claudia, who had contrived to
+overlook her mother's frail health. And others were serving him--that
+weak mother; Pinsett, too; and perhaps a hired nurse. It was unbearable.
+
+"My dear," said Aunt Jane, as Claudia wept aloud, "we are in our
+heavenly Father's hands; let us ask Him to keep your dear father at
+least until you see him."
+
+So those two old maids with difficulty adjusted their stiff knees to
+kneeling, and, as Aunt Jane lifted her quavering voice in a few
+sentences of simple prayer, she laid a trembling hand protectingly on
+Claudia.
+
+Would that night never go? Its hours to Claudia seemed weeks. The shock
+of an impending loss would of itself have been hard enough to bear; but
+to remember that by her own indifference to home she had perhaps missed
+seeing her father again alive--that was worse than all.
+
+And then, as she thought of the sick-room, she remembered her mother.
+How had she contrived for years not to see that in the daily care of
+that patient woman there lay the first call for a dutiful daughter?
+
+It was noble to work; and there _was_ a work for every one to do.
+
+But why had she foolishly gone afield to look for occupation and a place
+in life, when an obvious duty and a post she alone could best fill lay
+at home? If God would only give her time to amend!
+
+It was a limp, tear-stained, and humbled Claudia who reached home by the
+first train the next morning.
+
+Her father was alive--that was granted to her. Her mother had borne up
+bravely, but the struggle was obvious.
+
+A nurse was in possession of the sick-chamber, and Claudia could only
+look on where often she fain would have been the chief worker.
+
+But the room for amendment was provided. Mr. Haberton recovered very
+slowly, and was warned always to use the utmost care. Mrs. Haberton,
+when the worst of her husband's illness was over, showed signs of
+collapse herself.
+
+[Sidenote: A New Ministry]
+
+Claudia gave herself up to a new ministry. Her mother no longer called
+for Pinsett; Mr. Haberton found an admirable successor to his trained
+nurse.
+
+Claudia had found her place, and in gratitude to God resolved to give
+the fullest obedience to the ancient precept: "If any have children . . .
+let them learn first to show piety at home, and to requite their
+parents."
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Women explorers have been the helpers of men, and spurred
+them on towards their goals. Some such workers are here recalled.]
+
+Famous Women Pioneers
+
+BY
+
+FRANK ELIAS
+
+
+A great deal has been said and written about the men who, in times past,
+opened up vast tracts of the unknown, and, by so doing, prepared new
+homes for their countrymen from England. Park and Livingstone, Raleigh
+and Flinders--the names of these and many more are remembered with
+gratitude wherever the English tongue is spoken.
+
+Less often perhaps do we remember that there have been not only
+strong-willed and adventurous men but brave and enduring women who have
+gone where scarcely any white folks went before them, and who, while
+doing so, bore without complaint hardships no less severe than those
+endured by male pioneers.
+
+To the shores of Cape Cod there came, on November 11, 1620, a little
+leaky ship, torn by North Atlantic gales and with sides shattered by
+North Atlantic rollers. Standing shivering upon her decks stood groups
+of men and women, plainly not sailor-folk, worn by a long voyage, and
+waiting to step upon a shore of which they knew no more than that it was
+inhabited by unmerciful savages and overlaid by dense forests. The
+first must be conciliated, and the second, to some extent at least,
+cleared away before there could be any hope of settlement.
+
+What pictures of happy homes in the Old Country, with their green little
+gardens and honeysuckle creepers, rose up in the memory of those
+delicate women as they eyed the bleak, unfriendly shore! Yet, though the
+cold bit them and the unknown yawned before, they did not flinch, but
+waited for the solemn moment of landing.
+
+[Sidenote: The "Mayflower"]
+
+Perhaps a little of what they did that day they knew. Yet could they, we
+wonder, have realised that in quitting England with their husbands and
+fathers in order, with them, to worship God according to the manner
+bidden by their conscience, they were giving themselves a name glorious
+among women? Or that, because of them and theirs, the name of the little
+tattered, battered ship they were soon to leave, after weary months of
+danger from winds and seas, was to live as long as history. Thousands of
+great ships have gone out from England since the day on which the
+"Mayflower" sailed from Plymouth, yet which of them had a name like
+hers?
+
+Tried as the "Mayflower" women were, their trials were only beginning.
+Even while they waited for their husbands to find a place of settlement,
+one of their number, wife of William Bradford--a man later to be their
+governor--fell overboard and was drowned. When they did at last land
+they had to face, not only the terrors of a North American winter, but
+sickness brought on by the hard work and poor food following the effects
+of overcrowding on the voyage.
+
+Soon the death-rate in this small village amounted to as much as two to
+three persons a day. Wolves howled at night, Indians crept out to spy
+from behind trees, cruel winds shook their frail wooden houses and froze
+the dwellers in them, but the courage of the women pioneers of New
+England never faltered, and when, one by one, they died, worn out by
+hardship, they had done their noble part in building an altar to Him
+whom, in their own land, they had not been permitted to serve as they
+would.
+
+For many years the task of helping to found settlements was the only
+work done by women in the way of opening up new territory. In the
+seventeenth and eighteenth centuries most of our discoveries were still
+those of the mariner, who could scarcely take his wife to sea. But in
+the nineteenth came the rise of foreign missions, as well as the
+acknowledgment of the need of inland exploration, and in this work the
+explorer's wife often shared in the risks and adventures of her husband.
+
+When Robert Moffat began his missionary labours in South Africa in 1816,
+he had not only to preach the gospel to what were often bloodthirsty
+savages, but he had to plunge into the unknown. Three years later he
+married Mary Smith, who was henceforth to be his companion in all his
+journeys, and to face, with a courage not less than his own, the
+tropical heat, the poisonous insects, the savage beasts, the fierce
+natives of a territory untrod by the white man, and who had to do all
+this in a day before medicine had discovered cures for jungle-sickness
+and poisons, before invention had improved methods of travel, and before
+knowledge had been able to prepare maps or to write guides.
+
+It was the daughter of Mary Moffat who became the wife of the greatest
+of all explorers, David Livingstone, and who like her mother, was to set
+her foot where no white men or women had stood before.
+
+Their first home was at Mabotsa, about two hundred miles from what is
+now the city of Pretoria. But soon Livingstone began the series of
+journeys which was to make his name famous. With his wife he travelled
+in a roomy wagon, drawn by bullocks at a rate of about two miles an
+hour. But they often suffered intensely from the heat and the scarcity
+of water. Then the mosquitoes were always troublesome, and frequently
+even the slow progress they were making would be interrupted by the
+death of one of the bullocks, killed by the deadly tsetse. At other
+times they would halt before a dense bunch of trees, and would have to
+stop until a clearing had been cut through.
+
+Such was the life of Mrs. Livingstone during her first years in Africa.
+For a time, following this, she lived in England with her children, and
+had there to endure sufferings greater than any she had shared with her
+husband, for during most of her time at home Livingstone was cut off
+from the world in the middle of Africa. When he reached the coast once
+more she went back to him, unable to endure the separation longer.
+
+But, soon after landing, her health gave way. At the end of April her
+condition was hopeless; she lay upon "a rude bed formed of boxes, but
+covered with a soft mattress," and thus, her husband beside her, she
+died in the heart of the great continent for which she and those most
+dear to her had spent themselves.
+
+[Sidenote: Lady Baker]
+
+An even greater African explorer than Mrs. Livingstone was Lady Baker,
+wife of Sir Samuel Baker. She was a Hungarian, and married Baker in
+1860, when he had already done some colonisation work by settling a
+number of Englishmen in Ceylon. In the year following their marriage,
+the Bakers went to Egypt, determined to clear up that greatest of all
+mysteries to African explorers--the secret of the Nile sources. Arrived
+at Khartoum, they fitted out an expedition and set off up the river with
+twenty-nine camels.
+
+One day, as they pushed on slowly in that silent, burning land, they
+heard that white men were approaching; and sure enough, there soon
+appeared before them the figures of Speke and Grant, two well-known
+explorers who had gone out a year before and whom many feared to have
+been lost. These men had found the source of the Nile in the Victoria
+Nyanza. But they told the Bakers a wonderful story of how they had heard
+rumours from time to time of the existence of another lake into which
+the Nile was said to flow.
+
+The minds of Baker and his wife were fired to emulation. Parting from
+their newly-met countrymen, they pressed onwards and southwards. They
+had to go a long distance out of their way to avoid the slave-traders
+who were determined to wreck their plans if they could.
+
+"We have heard a good deal recently of lady travellers in Africa," said
+the _Times_ a long time afterwards, "but their work has been mere
+child's play compared with the trials which Lady Baker had to undergo in
+forcing her way into a region absolutely unknown and bristling with
+dangers of every kind."
+
+But after encountering many adventures, the determined traveller and his
+brave wife at last reached the top of a slope from which, on looking
+down, they saw a vast inland ocean. No eye of white man had ever beheld
+this lake before, and to Lady Baker, not less than to her husband,
+belongs the glory of the discovery of the lake which all the world knows
+to-day as the Albert Nyanza.
+
+"Thus," to quote an earlier passage in the same _Times_ article, "amid
+many hardships and at the frequent risk of death at the hands of Arab
+slavers and hostile chiefs, Baker and his wife forged one of the most
+important links in the course of one of the world's most famous rivers."
+
+After many further difficulties, the explorers found their way back to
+the coast, and thence to England. But their fame had gone before them,
+and everywhere they were welcomed. And though it was Baker who was
+awarded a gold medal by the Royal Geographical Society, all must have
+felt that the honour belonged, not less, to his courageous wife.
+
+[Sidenote: Mary Kingsley]
+
+It may be said that Lady Baker was not alone in her journeys. On the
+other hand, Mary Kingsley, another woman African traveller, led her own
+expeditions. Moreover, her travelling was often done through territory
+reeking with disease. At the age of twenty-nine she explored the Congo
+River, and visited Old Calabar, and in 1894 ascended the mountain of
+Mungo Mah Lobeh. After her return to England she lectured upon her
+adventures. One more journey, this time not of exploration, was she to
+make to the great African continent. In 1900 she volunteered as a nurse
+during the war, and went out to the Cape. Here she was employed to nurse
+sick Boer prisoners. But her work was done. Enteric fever struck her
+down and, before long, the traveller had set out upon her last journey.
+
+The names we have mentioned have been those of famous travellers--women
+whose work is part of the history of discovery. But there are hundreds
+of courageous women to-day, not perhaps engaged in exploration, but who,
+nevertheless, are living in remote stations in the heart of Africa, in
+the midst of the Australian "never-never," in the lonely islands of the
+Pacific--women whose husbands, whose fathers, whose brothers are
+carrying on the work of Empire, or the greater work of the gospel.
+
+Often one of these women is the only white person of her sex for
+hundreds of miles. Perhaps she is the first who has ever set foot in the
+region wherein she lives. Yet her courage does not fail. When, as
+sometimes she does, she writes a book describing her adventures, it is
+sure to be full of high spirits and amusing descriptions of the
+primitive methods of cooking and housekeeping to which she must submit.
+The other side of the picture, the loneliness, the intense heat or cold,
+the mosquitoes or other pests, the compulsion, through absence of
+assistance, to do what at home could be done by a servant--all this is
+absent.
+
+Women may have changed, but certainly woman in the difficult places of
+the Empire, whether she be missionary, squatter, or consul's wife, has
+lost nothing in courage, in perseverance, in cheerful or even smiling
+submission to hard conditions.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A rural story this--of adventurous youngsters and a pathetic
+figure that won their sympathy.]
+
+Poor Jane's Brother
+
+BY
+
+MARIE F. SALTON
+
+
+Ever since the twins could remember Poor Jane had lived in the village.
+In fact, she had lived there all her life, though one could not expect
+the twins to remember that, for they were very young indeed, and Poor
+Jane was quite old.
+
+Poor Jane did not dress like other folks. Her boots were so large and
+sloppy that her feet seemed to shake about in them, and she shuffled
+along the ground when she walked. These boots could never have been
+cleaned since Jane had had them, and the twins firmly believed that they
+always had been that queer dust-colour, until one day Nan told them that
+when they were quite new they were black and shiny like ordinary boots.
+
+Poor Jane always wore a brown, muddy, gingham skirt, frayed and
+tattered, and the torn pieces hung like a frill from her knees to the
+tops of her dust-coloured boots. Over her chest she wore a dark-grey
+woollen cross-over, and on her head was a dirty shawl, which hung down
+her back, and was pinned across her breast. Little straw-like wisps of
+straight brown hair stuck out from under the shawl over her forehead
+and ears. Her face was dried up and shrivelled, and her cheek-bones were
+so sharp that they tried to prick through the skin.
+
+Poor Jane did not often wash, so her wrinkles, and what Dumpty called
+her "laughing lines," were marked quite black with dirt. Her lips were
+not rosy and fresh like mummie's or Dumpty's, but they were of a
+purple-grey colour, and when she opened her mouth, instead of a row of
+pearly white teeth showing, there was only one very large yellow tooth,
+which looked as if it could not stay much longer in the gum.
+
+The twins always thought that she must live on milk, as babies do before
+they have any teeth, but to their amazement they heard that last
+Christmas, at the Old People's Tea, Poor Jane had eaten two plates of
+salt beef.
+
+"Do you think she sucked it?" Dumpty asked her brother that evening when
+nurse was safely out of the way. Humpty asked daddy the next day at
+lunch how old people managed to eat when they had only one tooth.
+
+[Sidenote: Humpty's Experiment]
+
+Daddy said they "chewed," and showed Humpty how it was done, and there
+was a scene that afternoon in the nursery at tea, when Humpty practised
+"chewing" his bread and honey. And in the end Dumpty went down alone to
+the drawing-room for games that evening, with this message from Nan:
+"Master Humphrey has behaved badly at the tea-table, and been sent to
+bed."
+
+[Illustration: BARBARA'S VISIT.]
+
+But although the children met Poor Jane every time that they went into
+the village they had never once spoken to her. That was because she was
+not one of nurse's friends, like old Mrs. Jenks, whom Barbara, the
+twins' elder sister, visited every week with flowers or fruit or other
+good things. Nan considered that Poor Jane was too dirty for one of her
+friends.
+
+Poor Jane was so interesting because she had so much to say to herself,
+and, as daddy said, "gibbered like a monkey" when she walked alone.
+
+All day long she would wander up and down the village street, and when
+the children came out of school and the boys began to tease, she would
+curl her long black-nailed fingers--which were so like birds' claws--at
+her persecutors, and would run towards them as if she meant to scratch
+out their eyes.
+
+Early last spring the twins met with their first real adventure. They
+had had lots of little adventures before, such as the time when Humpty
+fell into the pond at his cousins' and was nearly drowned, and when
+Dumpty had a tooth drawn, and because she was brave and did not make a
+fuss, daddy and mummie each presented her with a shilling, and even the
+dentist gave her a penny and a ride in his chair.
+
+But this time it was a real adventure because every one--twins
+included--was frightened.
+
+The twins had just recovered from bad colds in their heads, which they
+had passed on to all the grown-ups in the house, and a cold in the head
+makes grown-ups particularly cross, so the twins found.
+
+Mum came up to the nursery with a very hoarse voice and streaming eyes,
+but when she saw Nan she forgot about her own cold, and said that Nan
+must go to bed at once, and have something warm to drink, and put a nice
+hot-water bottle between the sheets. For a long time Nan said that
+nothing would make her go to bed, but at last mum, who is very sweet,
+and of whom Nan is really quite afraid, persuaded her to lie down, and
+herself brought up a dose of quinine.
+
+It had rained all the morning, but the sun was shining so brightly now
+that the twins stood looking longingly out of the nursery window, while
+mummie helped Nan into bed.
+
+"Can we go out, mum?" asked Humpty.
+
+"There is no one to take you out, darling," said mummie thoughtfully;
+"but it is so nice and sunny now that I think you ought to go. It is too
+wet to play in the garden, and if you go alone you must promise to
+walk along the road to the end of the village, and straight back again.
+Now, remember to walk where it is clean and dry, and keep moving, and do
+not stop to play with the puddles, and when you come in you shall have
+tea with me."
+
+"Hooray!" shouted the children; "two treats in one afternoon!"
+
+It did not take the twins long to get ready for their walk that
+afternoon. They were so excited, for they had never been out alone for a
+walk before, though, of course, they used to play by themselves in the
+garden.
+
+Each was inwardly hoping that they might meet Poor Jane, and so they
+did. As they came out of the drive gate they saw Poor Jane shuffling
+quickly up the road.
+
+"Let's walk slowly," whispered Dumpty, quivering with excitement, "and
+perhaps she will catch us up."
+
+In a few minutes the old woman had overtaken them.
+
+[Sidenote: Jane's New Gloves]
+
+All Nurse's injunctions were forgotten. The children stood still and
+stared, for Poor Jane was wearing a pair of brand new, red woollen
+gloves! Poor Jane saw them looking, and she crossed from the other side
+of the road and came near the children. Dumpty gave a little scream of
+terror, but Humpty caught her by the hand, so that she could not run
+away.
+
+"Good afternoon," he said; "what nice red gloves you have!"
+
+The old woman looked at her hands with great pride. "Beautiful red
+gloves," she said, spreading out her fingers. "I had the chilblains bad,
+so Mrs. Duke gave 'em to me. Beautiful red gloves!" She began cackling
+to herself, staring hard at the children as she did so. She had brown,
+staring eyes that looked very large and fierce in her thin face.
+
+"Where's your nuss?" she asked, beginning to walk along by the side of
+the children.
+
+"Our what?" asked Dumpty, puzzled.
+
+"She means nurse," said Humpty, with great emphasis. "Nan is ill with a
+cold in her head," he explained, "and mum has just made her go to bed
+and drink hot milk."
+
+"I often see ye passin'," said Poor Jane conversationally.
+
+"Yes," said Humpty, who was still holding his sister's hand tight, "we
+often come this way for a walk, and we always see you."
+
+"You always walk this way, don't you?" said Dumpty bravely, though she
+still trembled with fright.
+
+"Yes, I allus come along 'ere, every day, wet or fine."
+
+"Why?" asked Humpty, who had an inquiring mind.
+
+Then the old woman seized him by the arm. Humpty turned white with
+terror, but his courage did not forsake him.
+
+"Why?" he repeated boldly.
+
+The old woman pinched his arm.
+
+"Don't you know why I come here?" she asked, her voice getting shriller
+and shriller; "don't you know why I walk up and down this road every
+day, fine or wet, through snow and hail?" She lowered her voice
+mysteriously, and clutched hold of Dumpty, who could not help shrieking.
+"You're a lucky little miss; you keep your brother as long as you can.
+Ah! my poor brother, my poor brother!"
+
+"Is your brother dead?" asked Dumpty sympathetically. She was not so
+frightened now, for although the old woman still held her pretty tight
+she did not look as if she meant to hurt them.
+
+"No, he is alive! He is alive! They tell me he is dead, but I know
+better. A circus came to Woodstead" (the little shopping-town two miles
+from the village), "and he joined that--he had to go; the circus
+people--they was gipsies most of 'em--forced him--and he 'ad to go; 'e
+is a clown now."
+
+"A clown!" cried the twins.
+
+"Yus, and they won't let 'im come back to his poor old Jane. They're a
+keepin' us apart, they're a keepin' us apart!" And her voice died away
+in a wail. She stopped in the middle of the road.
+
+"Poor Jane!" whispered Dumpty; "poor Jane! I am so sorry"; but Jane took
+no more notice of them, but went on murmuring to herself, "Keepin' us
+apart--keepin' us apart."
+
+"Come on, Dump," said Humpty at last; "it's no good staying, she doesn't
+seem to want us." Dumpty joined him, and there were tears in her eyes.
+What Poor Jane had said was so very, very sad. The twins had so much to
+think about now that they talked very little during their walk, but when
+they did, it was all about Poor Jane and her brother, who was the clown
+in a circus.
+
+When they got home the children had tea and games downstairs, and
+altogether it was great fun, but they did not mention their meeting with
+Poor Jane. That was their secret.
+
+For days afterwards they talked it over and wondered whether Jane would
+speak to them the next time they met on the road, but when they went
+down the village again with nurse the old woman passed them by without a
+sign of recognition.
+
+Three months passed and June had come, and one day Nan and the children
+went down to the village shop to buy slate-pencils.
+
+[Sidenote: Mrs. Moses' Question]
+
+"Are you taking the children to the circus?" asked Mrs. Moses, the
+shopwoman.
+
+The twins pricked up their ears.
+
+"When is it?" asked Nan.
+
+"To-morrow, at Woodstead," answered Mrs. Moses; and she showed the
+children two large bills with pictures on them, of a beautiful young
+lady with yellow hair, who was walking on a tight-rope, a dark lady
+balancing herself on a golden globe, a young man riding, bare-back, on a
+fierce white horse, and a lion jumping through flames of fire, while in
+the corner was the picture of a clown grinning through a hoop.
+
+"Oh, Nan!" said Humpty, when they were outside, "can we go?"
+
+"I shall ask mummie when we get home what she thinks about it," said
+nurse, "but you are not to be disappointed or cross if she won't let
+you."
+
+That evening when mummie came up to bid good-night to the twins in bed
+they were told that they might go. Nurse had been promised to-morrow
+off, so that she might have tea with her sister, who lived at Woodstead,
+but she had very kindly said that she would be quite willing to take the
+twins with her, and put them into seats in the circus, and then she
+would come for them at the end of the performance.
+
+The twins were delighted, and almost too excited to speak. After mummie
+had gone they lay awake thinking.
+
+"Humpty," said Dumpty presently, "what are you thinking about?"
+
+"The circus," answered Humpty promptly.
+
+"And I," said Dumpty pensively--"I have been thinking about Poor Jane."
+
+"I have been thinking about her lots too," said Humpty.
+
+"And oh, Humpty! supposing the clown should be her brother, what should
+we do?"
+
+"We should bring him back to Poor Jane of course," said Humpty.
+
+"But how shall we know whether he is her brother?"
+
+"He will look like her, of course, stupid," replied Humpty, a little
+crossly, for he was beginning to feel sleepy.
+
+[Sidenote: At the Circus]
+
+They had an early dinner next day, and then Edward brought the pony
+round to the door, and they set off for Woodstead. Nurse was looking
+very smart in a black bonnet and silk mantle, and the children felt
+almost as if she were a stranger. Soon they came to a large meadow,
+where stood a great tent with steps leading up to it, and a man stood on
+the top of the steps beating a drum and crying, "Children half-price!
+Walk up! Walk up!"
+
+There was a nice man inside, who led the children past rows of bare
+seats, raised one above the other, till he came to a part which was
+curtained off from the rest. He drew the curtain to one side to let the
+children pass in, and they saw four rows of comfortable seats with
+backs, covered with scarlet cloth.
+
+"Yes, these will do nicely," said Nan; "and now, children, you must sit
+here quietly till the circus is over, and I shall come and fetch you at
+half-past four."
+
+The children now had time to look about. A large plot of grass had been
+encircled with a low wooden fence, hung with more red cloth. Inside this
+ring some of the grass had been taken up, so that there was a narrow
+path where the horses would canter right round the ring. Quite close to
+the children was an elegant carriage--wagon-shaped--where the musicians
+sat, and made a great noise with their instruments. One of the men
+played the drum and cymbals at the same time. On their right the tent
+was open and led out on to the meadow, and this was the entrance for the
+horses and performers.
+
+After playing the same tune through seven times, the band changed its
+music and began a quick, lively air, and in came trotting, mounted on a
+black horse with a white nose, a rather elderly lady with golden hair.
+She did not sit on an ordinary saddle, but on what appeared to be an
+oval tea-tray covered with blue satin. Behind her followed a serious,
+dignified gentleman, who was busily cracking a long whip. His name, the
+twins soon learned, was Mr. Brooks, for so all the performers addressed
+him.
+
+The lady rode twice round the ring, and on dismounting kissed her hands
+to the audience in a friendly manner.
+
+"I want to introduce to you, ladies and gentlemen, my wonderful
+performing horse Diamond. Diamond, make your bow."
+
+Whereupon Diamond--with some difficulty--bent his knees, and thrust his
+head down to the ground.
+
+The twins were enchanted.
+
+But this was by no means the best of Diamond's accomplishments. By
+looking at a watch he could tell the time, and explained to the audience
+that it was now seventeen minutes past three, by pawing on a plank of
+wood with his hoof three times, and then, after a moment's pause,
+seventeen times. He could shake his head wisely to mean "yes" or "no";
+he could find the lady's pocket-handkerchief amongst the audience, and,
+finally, he refused to leave the ring without his mistress, and when she
+showed no sign of accompanying him, he trotted behind her, and pushed
+her out with his soft white nose.
+
+Next an acrobat came somersaulting in. He did all sorts of strange
+things, such as balancing himself upside down on the broad shoulders of
+Mr. Brooks, and tying himself into a kind of knot and so entangling his
+limbs that it became impossible to tell the legs from the arms.
+
+After he had gone there was a long pause, and then came tottering in,
+with slow and painful footsteps, an old, old man. He was dressed in a
+dirty black suit, and wore an old battered bowler. His clothes were
+almost in rags, and he had muffled up his face with a long black
+comforter.
+
+A strange hush came over the audience as he sat down in the ring to
+rest, only Humpty and Dumpty leaned forward eagerly to watch. "It is
+Poor Jane's brother," said Humpty very loudly.
+
+Mr. Brooks went up to the tired old man. "I am afraid you are very
+tired, my good man," he said kindly.
+
+"Very tired, very tired indeed, Mr. Brooks," sighed Poor Jane's brother.
+
+"Mr. Brooks!" cried the owner of that name, "how, sir, do you know that
+my name is Brooks?" And then a wonderful thing happened. The old man
+sprang to his feet, his rags dropped from him, he tore off the black
+comforter, and behold! he was a clown with a large red nose, who cried,
+"Here we are again!"
+
+How the children laughed and clapped, and how pleased the twins were to
+have discovered Poor Jane's brother!
+
+Oh, the things that clown did! The familiar way in which he spoke to Mr.
+Brooks! The practical jokes that he played on him! Then in trotted old
+Diamond to join in the fun, and here was a chance for the clown to take
+a lesson in riding. He mounted by climbing up the tail, and then he rode
+sitting with his back to the horse's head. He tried standing upright
+whilst Diamond was galloping, but could not keep his balance, and fell
+forward with his arms clasped tightly round the animal's neck. In the
+end Diamond, growing tired of his antics, pitched him over his head, but
+the clown did not seem to mind, for before he had reached the ground he
+turned an immense somersault--then another--and the third carried him
+right through the entrance back into the meadow where the caravans were
+standing.
+
+"Humpty," asked Dumpty, "what are we to do?"
+
+[Sidenote: To the Rescue!]
+
+"We must go at once and rescue him," answered the boy.
+
+The twins slipped from their seats, and crept to the back of the tent.
+
+"I think we can squeeze under this," said Humpty, as he began wriggling
+under the awning. He then helped Dumpty, who was rather fat, and showed
+signs of getting stuck.
+
+"How cool it is outside!" remarked Dumpty, who had found it hot and
+stifling under the tent. "I would like to know what is going on,
+wouldn't you?" she added, as a peal of merry laughter came from the
+tent.
+
+"We will go back presently," said Humpty; "but we must first find Poor
+Jane's brother."
+
+There were two or three small tents, and one large one, in which the
+horses were stabled. Dumpty longed to stop and talk to a dear little
+piebald pony, but Humpty carried her on till they came to the caravans.
+
+Four or five men were lying face downwards on the grass--worn out and
+tired. Before the steps of one caravan a group of children were playing,
+whilst one woman in a red shawl sat on the steps smoking a clay pipe,
+and holding a dirty-looking baby in her arms.
+
+The twins stole round the caravan, taking good care not to be seen.
+There was as yet no sign of the clown.
+
+At last they found a smaller caravan which stood apart from the others,
+and the door was ajar. "Perhaps he is in there," suggested Humpty. "I am
+going to see." And he ran up the steps and peeped inside.
+
+"Oh, do come, Dumpty!" he cried; "it is awfully interesting."
+
+Dumpty tumbled up the steps.
+
+"Oh, Humpty!" she said, "how lovely!"
+
+It really was a very nice caravan, and spotlessly clean. There were dear
+little red curtains in front of the window and a red mat on the floor.
+All over the wall hung baskets made in pretty green and blue straw of
+all shapes and sizes. On the chair lay a bundle of peacock's feathers.
+
+"These are like what the gipsies sell," remarked Dumpty. A gipsy's
+basket was lying on the floor, in which were tin utensils for cooking,
+and two or three saucepans. Bootlaces had been wound round the handle.
+
+The twins were fascinated, and turned everything over with great
+interest. They found a large cupboard, too, containing all sorts of
+beautiful clothes--lovely velvet dresses, and robes of gold and silver.
+
+"How dark it is getting!" said Humpty presently; "why did you shut the
+door?"
+
+"I didn't shut the door," answered Dumpty; "I spect the wind did."
+
+They took a long time in exploring the cupboard. Suddenly Humpty cried,
+"We have forgotten Poor Jane's brother!"
+
+They made a rush for the door.
+
+"Here, Humpty, will you open it? This handle is stiff."
+
+Humpty pulled and struggled with the handle until he was red in the
+face.
+
+"I can't get it open," he said at last.
+
+"Let me try again," said Dumpty, and she pushed and struggled, but to no
+purpose.
+
+For a long time she and Humpty tried alternately to open the door, but
+nothing that they could do was of any avail.
+
+[Sidenote: Locked in]
+
+"I think it is locked," said Humpty at last, sitting down despondently.
+He was panting breathlessly, and began to swing his legs.
+
+Dumpty's eyes grew wide with terror, her lips trembled.
+
+"Have they locked us in on purpose?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," said Humpty, "the circus people have locked us in, and they won't
+unlock the door until they have left Woodstead."
+
+"And then?" asked Dumpty.
+
+"Then they will keep us, and never let us come home again--like they did
+to Poor Jane's brother, and I shall be a bare-back rider, and you will
+wear the blue velvet gown, and ride in the processions on the piebald
+pony."
+
+"And we shall never see mummie or daddy again--or Nan--or Poor Jane,"
+said Dumpty, beginning to cry.
+
+"No, we shall never see them again," answered Humpty, swallowing hard to
+keep himself from crying.
+
+Dumpty was crying bitterly now, and the loud sobs shook her small body.
+Humpty looked dismally at his surroundings, and continued to swing his
+legs.
+
+"Give over!" he said to Dumpty, after one of her loudest sobs; "it will
+never do for them to see that you've been crying, or they will be just
+furious."
+
+After a time Dumpty dried her eyes, and went to the window, and drew
+back the curtains.
+
+"It's getting dark," she said.
+
+Humpty began to whistle. Suddenly he stopped.
+
+"I am getting awful hungry," he remarked.
+
+"We shan't have nuffin' to eat until the morning," said Dumpty.
+
+"Humpty," she continued, "would it be any good if we screamed and banged
+the door?"
+
+"No," said the boy; "if they heard us trying to give the alarm, they
+would be very angry, and perhaps they wouldn't give us anything to eat
+for days--not until we were nearly dead."
+
+"I think we had better go to sleep," said Dumpty, yawning, and began
+saying her prayers.
+
+In a few minutes both children were lying fast asleep on the floor of
+the caravan.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"My eye! jest look 'ere, Bill!"
+
+"Well, I'm blowed!" said Bill, gaping open-mouthed at the sight of the
+two children asleep in the caravan.
+
+"'Ow in the world did they get 'ere?" continued the woman who had first
+found them. "Wike up! wike hup!" she cried, giving them each a violent
+shaking.
+
+Humpty began to open his eyes. He stared in astonishment at the people
+round him.
+
+"Are you the circus people?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, and who are you, we're wanting to know, and 'ow did you come
+'ere?"
+
+By this time Dumpty was awake. On seeing the strange faces, she
+immediately began to cry.
+
+"Don't 'e cry, dear," said the woman; "there's no call to be afraid."
+
+But Dumpty still cried.
+
+"Why did you lock us in?" asked Humpty defiantly.
+
+"I believe they think as 'ow we locked 'em in for the purpose," laughed
+the woman, and then she explained to them what had happened, how they
+always kept this caravan locked, for they did not use it for sleeping or
+living in, but filled it with baskets and tins, which they sold as they
+travelled through the villages. She told the twins, too, that three
+policemen were out searching for them everywhere, and had come to make
+inquiries of her husband, and of the man who sold the tickets, but they
+could tell them nothing. And in their turn the twins had to explain how
+it was that they had found their way into the caravan.
+
+[Sidenote: An Early Breakfast]
+
+It was just three o'clock now, and the men were all at work, for by four
+o'clock they must be on the way to the next town, where they were
+"billed" to give a performance that very afternoon.
+
+"And now," said the woman, "you must 'ave a bite of breakfast, and then
+Bill shall tike you 'ome. What'll your ma and pa say when they see you?
+they'll be mighty pleased, I guess."
+
+The twins had never been up so early in the morning before. They felt
+ill and stiff all over from sleeping on the hard floor, and they were
+very hungry, and cold too, for the morning air seemed chill and biting.
+
+The women had made a fire of sticks, and a great black kettle was
+hanging over it. The water was boiling and bubbling.
+
+Soon the men left their work and came to join in the meal. They all sat
+round the fire on the wet grass, and shared the large, thick mugs of tea
+and sugar, and stared at the little strangers.
+
+All the children were up, too, and rubbed their eyes and tried hard not
+to look sleepy, but the little ones were cross and peevish. Each child
+had a large slice of bread, and a piece of cold pork, and even the
+little, sore-eyed baby held a crust of bread and a piece of pork in his
+hand, which he tried to stuff into his mouth.
+
+The twins, because they were the guests, were given each a hard-boiled
+egg. Dumpty was getting over her shyness now, and tried to behave as
+mummie does when she is out to tea. "Eggs are very dear now," she
+announced gravely, during a lull in the conversation; "how much do you
+pay for yours?" How the men and women laughed! It seemed as if Bill
+would never stop chuckling, and repeating to himself, "Pay for our eggs!
+That's a good un"; and every time that he said "Pay for our eggs!" he
+gave his leg a loud slap with his hand. When breakfast was over--and you
+may be sure that the twins ate a good one, although they did not much
+like the strong tea, without any milk--the woman said it was time for
+them to be starting home.
+
+"Please," begged Dumpty, summoning all her courage--"please, may the
+piebald pony take us?" and in a few minutes Bill drove it up, harnessed
+to an old rickety cart, and the two children were packed in.
+
+Just as they were starting Dumpty said, with a sigh, to the kind gipsy
+woman, "Thank you very, very much, and will you, please, tell the clown
+how sorry I am that I have not seen him to speak to?"
+
+"'Ere I am, young mon--'ere I am!"
+
+It was Bill who spoke. The twins could not believe their ears.
+
+"Are you the clown?" said Dumpty in an awestruck voice; "are you really
+and truly the clown?"
+
+Bill jerked the reins, and the piebald pony set off at a weary trot.
+"Yes, missie, I am the clown," he said.
+
+"Where's your nose?" asked Humpty suspiciously.
+
+"One's on my face--t'other's in the dressing-up box," answered the man,
+with a shout of laughter.
+
+"Then you're not Poor Jane's brother?" said Dumpty.
+
+"Don't know nuffun about Poor Jine--we've got only one Jine here, and
+that's the monkey, and she ain't my sister, leastways it's to be hoped
+as she in't."
+
+But although it was disappointing to find that the clever clown was only
+Bill all the time, the twins enjoyed their drive home, for Bill told
+them many wonderful tales of his life in the ring, and of the animals
+which he had trained.
+
+Soon they came to the village, which looked so strange and quiet by the
+early morning light, with the cottage-doors all shut, and the windows
+closed and the blinds drawn. Humpty jumped down to open the gate leading
+up the drive, and there on the doorstep were mummie and daddy, looking
+so white and ill, who had come out of the house at the sound of the
+wheels on the gravel to greet them.
+
+[Sidenote: Home Again]
+
+The twins were hurried indoors and taken up to the nursery, and Nan
+cried when she saw them and forgot to scold. From the window they
+watched mum and daddy thanking Bill, and giving him some money, and they
+waved "goodbye" to him, and he flourished his whip in return, gave
+another tug at the reins, and the old piebald pony cantered bravely down
+the drive, and they saw them no more.
+
+The twins were not allowed to see their mother, for Nan said that she
+was feeling ill with a dreadful headache, and it was all on account of
+their "goings-on"; and after Nan had stopped crying, she began to scold,
+and was very cross all day.
+
+That evening when the twins were in bed mummie came to tuck them up. But
+instead of saying "Good-night," and then going out as she generally did,
+she stayed for a long, long time and talked.
+
+She told them that it was very wrong to have disobeyed nurse, who had
+told them to stay in the seats and not to go away.
+
+"But," cried Humpty, "we had to try to rescue Poor Jane's brother!"
+
+"Poor Jane's brother!" repeated mummie, looking puzzled. And then the
+twins explained.
+
+Mummie sat silent for a long time.
+
+"Remember, children," she said at last, "never do evil that good may
+come--I can't expect you to understand that--but I can tell you a little
+story."
+
+"A story!" cried the twins. "Hooray!"
+
+"Once upon a time a town was besieged. It was night, and only the
+sentinels on the walls were left on guard, and told to give the alarm by
+clanging a large bell, should the enemy force an attack. There was one
+sentinel who had never done this work before, and he was given the least
+important tower to guard. During the night a loud bell clanged out, and
+a soldier came running along the wall to speak to the new sentinel. 'Do
+come,' he said, 'we want as many helpers as we can get at once, and
+there will be plenty of fighting.' The young sentinel longed to go with
+him, and join the fight, but he remembered his duty in time.
+
+"'I cannot leave this tower,' he said; 'I have had orders to stay and
+give the alarm should the enemy appear, and the town trusts me to do
+so.'
+
+"'I believe that you are afraid,' said the soldier as he hurried away.
+
+"And this was the hardest of all, and the sentinel longed to join in the
+fighting to show that he, too, was no coward, but could fight like a
+man.
+
+"He stood there, listening to the noise in the distance, to the shouts
+of the enemy, and the screams of those who were struck down. And as he
+looked below the walls into the valley beyond he thought that he could
+distinguish men moving, and while he watched he saw a number of soldiers
+creeping up to the walls, and one man had even placed his foot on the
+steps that led up to his tower. Quick as thought, the sentinel seized
+the rope of the large bell that hung over his head and clanged it again
+and again.
+
+"In a few minutes the troops were assembled, and, making their way down
+the steep steps, they charged at the enemy, and followed them into the
+valley.
+
+"Late on the following evening the soldiers returned, but not all, for
+many were killed--and they brought back news of a great victory. The
+enemy was routed and the town saved. So you see, children," said mother
+gravely, "how much better it is to do what is right. If that young
+sentinel had left his post, even though it were to help the men in the
+other tower, the enemy would have climbed up those steps and got into
+the town. You must try to remember this always. You should have obeyed
+nurse, and remembered that she was trusting you to do what she had said.
+It was a kind thought of yours to try to rescue Poor Jane's brother, but
+obedience to nurse should have come first."
+
+[Sidenote: Jane's Delusion]
+
+"But we forgot, mummie," said Humpty.
+
+"What would have happened if the sentinel had forgotten that he was
+trusted to do his duty, and stay in the tower?"
+
+Humpty was silent.
+
+"And now," said mummie cheerfully, "we will forget all about the
+terrible fright you have given us, and you must try to remember what I
+have said. I want to know all about Poor Jane's brother," she continued,
+smiling; "is it some one you have been imagining about?"
+
+"Oh, no!" cried the twins at once. And then they told her of the
+conversation which they had had with Poor Jane, and of what she had said
+about her brother.
+
+"But Poor Jane has no brother," said mummie; "he died long ago. Jane's
+mind has never grown up. One day, when she was a girl, her mother took
+her to a circus at Woodstead, and when they came home, after it was
+over, they were told the sad news that Jane's brother had fallen from
+the top of a wagon of hay on to his head. He died a few hours later. But
+Jane could not understand death--she only knew that Harry had gone away
+from them, and she believed that the circus people had stolen him from
+the village and made him a clown. Ever since that sad day Jane has gone
+up and down the village to look for him, hoping that he will come back."
+
+"And will Poor Jane never see him again?" asked Dumpty.
+
+"Yes," answered mummie, with her sweetest smile--"yes, darlings, one day
+she may!"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: An Englishwoman's adventure in Arkansas, issuing in a great
+surprise to all concerned.]
+
+The Sugar Creek Highwayman
+
+BY
+
+ADELA E. ORPEN
+
+
+When Mrs. Boyd returned from Arkansas, I, having myself spent a very
+uneventful summer at home, with only the slight excitement of a month at
+Margate, was most anxious to hear an account of her adventures. That she
+had had adventures out there on those wild plains of course I felt
+certain. It would be manifestly preposterous to go to Arkansas for three
+months, and come back without an adventure.
+
+So, on the first day when Mrs. Boyd was to be "at home" after her
+return, I went to see her; and I found, already assembled in her cosy
+drawing-room, several other friends, impelled there, like myself, by
+curiosity to hear what she had to say, as well as by a desire to welcome
+her back.
+
+"I was just asking Mrs. Boyd what she thought the most singular thing in
+America," said Miss Bascombe, by way of putting me _au courant_ with the
+conversation after my greeting was over with our hostess.
+
+"And I," replied Mrs. Boyd, "was just going to say I really did not know
+what was the one most curious thing in America, where most things seem
+curious, being different from here, you know. I suppose it is their
+strange whining speech which most strikes one at the outset. It is
+strong in New York, certainly, but when you get out West it is simply
+amazing. But then they thought my speech as curious as I did theirs. A
+good woman in Arkansas said I talked 'mighty crabbed like.' But a man
+who travelled in the next seat to me, across Southern Illinois, after
+talking with me for a long time, said, 'Wal, now, you dew talk purty
+tol'eble square for an Englishwoman. You h'aint said 'Hingland' nor
+'Hameriky' onst since you sot there as I knows on!'"
+
+Mrs. Boyd put on so droll a twang, and gave her words such a curious,
+downward jerk in speaking, that we all laughed, and felt we had a pretty
+fair idea of how the Illinois people talk at all events.
+
+"Everybody is very friendly," continued Mrs. Boyd, "no matter what may
+be their station in life, nor what you may suppose to be yours. I
+remember in Cincinnati, where I stopped for a couple of days, the porter
+who got out my box for me saw it had some London and Liverpool labels on
+it, whereupon he said, with a pleasant smile, 'Wal, how's Eur�pe gettin'
+on, anyhow?' Fancy a Cannon Street porter making such a remark to a
+passenger! But it was quite simply said, without the faintest idea of
+impertinence. In fact, it is almost impossible to say that anybody is
+impertinent where you are all so absolutely on an equality."
+
+Now all this was interesting enough, no doubt, but what I wanted to hear
+about was something more startling. I could not really give up all at
+once the idea of an adventure in the West, so I said, "But didn't
+anything wonderful happen to you, Mrs. Boyd?"
+
+"No, I can't say there did," replied the lady, slightly surprised, I
+could see, by my question.
+
+Then, rallying my geography with an effort, I asked, "Weren't you
+carried off by the Indians, or swept away by a flood?"
+
+"No, I was many hundred miles away from the Indian Reservation, and did
+not see a single Red man," replied Mrs. Boyd; "and as for floods--well,
+my dear, I could tell you the ridiculous straits we were put to for want
+of water, but I can't even imagine a flood on those parched and dried-up
+plains."
+
+[Sidenote: An Adventure]
+
+"Well," said I, in an aggrieved voice, "I think you might have come back
+with at least one adventure after being away for three months."
+
+"An adventure!" exclaimed Mrs. Boyd, in astonishment, and then a flash
+of recollection passed over her countenance, and she continued, "Oh,
+yes, I did have one; I had an adventure with an highwayman."
+
+"Oh!" cried all the ladies, in a delighted chorus.
+
+"See there, now!" said Miss Bascombe, as if appropriating to herself the
+credit of the impending narrative.
+
+"I knew it!" said I, with triumph, conscious that to me was due the
+glory of unearthing the tale.
+
+"I'll tell it to you, if you like," said Mrs. Boyd.
+
+"Oh, pray do; we are dying to hear about it!" said Miss Bascombe. "A
+highwayman above all! How delicious!"
+
+"Was he handsome?" asked one of the ladies, foolishly, as if that had
+anything to say to it.
+
+"Wait," said Mrs. Boyd, who assumed a grave expression of countenance,
+which we felt to be due to the recollection of the danger she had run.
+We also looked serious, as in politeness bound, and sat in eager
+expectation of her story.
+
+"One day we were all invited to spend the whole afternoon at a
+neighbour's house. We were to go early for dinner at half-past twelve,
+stay until tea at five, and then drive home in the evening. The
+neighbour lived twelve miles away, but as there was to be a moon we
+anticipated no difficulty in driving home over the prairie. You see, as
+a rule, people are not out after dark in those wild regions; they get up
+very early, work hard all day, and are quite ready to go to bed soon
+after sunset. Anyway, there is no twilight; the sun sets, and it is dark
+almost immediately. When the day came, Emily (my sister, you know, with
+whom I was staying) wasn't able to go because the baby was not at all
+well, and she could not leave him for so long a time. So my
+brother-in-law and I set off alone, promising to come home early. I
+enjoyed the drive over the prairie very much, and we got to our
+destination about midday. Then we had dinner, a regular out-West dinner,
+all on the table together, everything very good and very plentiful. We
+dined in the kitchen, of course, and after dinner I helped Mrs. Hewstead
+to wash up the dishes, and then we went out and sat on the north side of
+the house in the shade and gossiped, while the men went and inspected
+some steam-ploughs and corn-planters, and what not. Then at five o'clock
+we had supper. Dear me! when I think of that square meal, and then look
+at this table, I certainly realise there is a world of difference
+between England and Arkansas."
+
+"Why," said Miss Bascombe, "don't they have tea in America?"
+
+"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Boyd, "we had tea and coffee, any number of
+cakes and pies, and the coloured man brought up a wheelbarrowful of
+water-melons and piled them on the floor, and we ate them all!"
+
+"Dear me," I remarked, "what a very extraordinary repast! I think you
+must have felt rather uncomfortable after such a gorge."
+
+"Oh dear, no," returned Mrs. Boyd, smiling; "one can eat simply an
+unlimited quantity of water-melons on those thirsty plains. The water is
+always sickeningly warm in the summer-time, so that any substitute for
+it is eagerly welcomed."
+
+Mrs. Boyd, lost in the recollections of the appetising water-melons, was
+clearly forgetting the great point of her story, so I ventured to
+suggest it by remarking: "And the highwayman?"
+
+"I am coming to that directly," said Mrs. Boyd.
+
+"Well, we started home just before sundown; and as it was very hot, we
+could not drive fast. Indeed, the horses were in a sheet of lather
+almost immediately, and the air seemed fairly thick with the heat-rays,
+and absolutely breathless. Just as we got to the bluff overlooking the
+Big Sugar Creek, the sun set.
+
+[Sidenote: A Dangerous District]
+
+"'I wish we were on the other side of the creek, I know,' said my
+brother-in-law.
+
+"'Why so?' said I; 'this part of the country is perfectly safe, is it
+not?'
+
+"'Yes,' he replied, 'it is pretty safe now, but there are always some
+rough customers about the bush, and there have been one or two shootings
+on the Big Sugar. Orlando Morse saw a man on horseback one night just
+after he had crossed the ford, waiting for him by the side of the road
+under the trees. But Orlando is an old frontier-man, so he is pretty
+quick with his trigger. He fired twice at the man, after challenging;
+whereupon the scoundrel vanished rapidly, and Orlando got safe home.'
+
+"I felt very uncomfortable at this, as you may imagine; still, as I knew
+my brother-in-law had a very poor opinion of the nerves of Englishwomen,
+I made an effort to say, as lightly as I could: 'What a very
+extraordinary country, to be sure! And do you always shoot anybody you
+may happen to see standing by the roadside of a summer's evening?'
+
+"'Oh no,' laughed Louis; 'we're not quite so savage as that. But you may
+fire at any suspicious body or thing, after due challenge, if the answer
+is not satisfactory. That's the rule of the road.'
+
+"After that I began to peer about in the gloom, rather anxiously trying
+to see if I could discover any suspicious body or thing, but I could
+make out nothing on account of the gloom, made more complete by the
+surrounding trees. Besides, we were going down hill very fast; we were,
+in fact, descending the steep bank of the first creek; then there was a
+bit of level in the wooded valley, then another stream, the South Fork
+it was called, then another steep climb, and we would once more be on
+the high and open prairie.
+
+"'Now, then, hold on tight!' said my brother-in-law, as he clutched the
+reins in both hands, braced his feet against the dashboard, and leaned
+far back in his seat. The horses seemed literally to disappear beneath
+our feet; the wagon went down head foremost with a lunge, there was a
+sudden jerk and great splashing and snorting, followed by a complete
+cessation of noise from the wheels, and a gentle swaying to and fro of
+the wagon. We were crossing the ford with the water breast high on the
+horses.
+
+"'I'm always glad when that ford is behind me,' said Louis to me, when
+we were again driving on quietly through the valley.
+
+"'Why?' said I; 'for there's another ford in front of us still.'
+
+"'Oh, the South Fork is nothing, but the Big Sugar is treacherous. I've
+known it rise twenty feet in two hours, and once I was water-bound on
+the other side for eleven days, unable to ford it. Emily would have gone
+out of her mind with anxiety, for the country was very disturbed at the
+time, only one of our neighbours, who saw me camping there, rode down to
+the house, and told her where I was, but, all the same----Hold! what's
+that?'
+
+"I didn't scream; I couldn't, for my heart almost stopped beating with
+terror.
+
+"'Take the reins,' said Louis, in a quick whisper.
+
+"I took hold of them as firmly as I could, but a pair of kittens could
+have run away with us, my hands trembled so. Louis got out his revolver;
+I heard click, click, click, in his hand, and then in the faint light I
+saw the gleam of steel.
+
+"'Halt! Who goes there?' called Louis, in a voice of thunder. I never
+heard his soldier-voice before, for ordinarily he speaks in a melodious
+baritone; and I then quite understood what Emily meant when she told me
+how his voice was heard above the din of battle, cheering his men on for
+the last charge at Gettysburg. I strained my eyes to see what it was,
+and there in front of us, not fifteen yards away, on the side of the
+road, I saw a man seated on horseback standing motionless, his right arm
+stretching forward, aiming straight towards us.
+
+[Sidenote: Two Pistol-shots]
+
+"Two livid tongues of flame darted from beside me--two quick reports of
+pistol-shots rang on the night air, then all was still. I felt the
+horses quiver, for the motion was communicated to me by the reins I held
+in my hands, but they were admirably trained animals, and did not move
+to the right or the left, only the younger one, a bay filly, snorted
+loudly. Louis sat silent and motionless, his revolver still pointing at
+the highwayman.
+
+"I scarcely breathed, but in all my life I never thought with such
+lightning rapidity. My whole household over here was distinct before me,
+with my husband and the children, and what they would do on getting the
+cablegram saying 'waylaid and murdered.'
+
+"I thought of a myriad things. I remember, amongst others, that it
+worried me to think that an over-charge of five shillings from Perkins
+for fowl, which my husband had just written to ask about, would now be
+paid because I could never explain that the pair of chickens had been
+returned. All this time--only a moment or two, you know--I was expecting
+instant death, while Louis and the horses remained motionless.
+
+"The smoke from the revolver slowly cleared away; a bat, startled by the
+noise, flapped against my face, and we saw the highwayman seated on his
+horse, standing immovable where he was, his right arm stretching out
+towards us with the same deadly aim.
+
+"'If that man is mortal, he should have dropped,' said Louis softly.
+'Both bullets struck him.'
+
+"We waited a moment longer. The figure remained as before.
+
+"'I must reconnoitre,' said Louis; 'I don't understand his tactics.'
+And, to my dismay, he prepared to get out of the wagon.
+
+"'Are you going away?' I asked breathlessly.
+
+"'Yes; sit still--the horses won't stir. I'm going to open fire at close
+quarters.'
+
+"I thought Louis's attempt at jocularity most ill-timed, but I said
+nothing. It seemed to me an immense time that he was gone, but he
+declares that it was not more than a minute and a quarter. Then I heard
+him laugh quietly to himself.
+
+"'All right, come on,' he said to me. 'Gee, whoa, haw, get up, girlies,'
+he said to the horses, and those sagacious beasts immediately walked
+straight towards the spot whence his voice came, without paying the
+least attention to me, who was holding the reins so tight, as I thought.
+
+"'Well, Milly, I suppose you'll never stop laughing,' was the first
+thing he said to me when the horses came to a standstill, with their
+noses almost in his beard.
+
+"'I never felt less like laughing,' I replied, hardly daring to believe
+that the peril was past and that I was still alive.
+
+"'Our highwayman is an old stump, don't you see?' exclaimed Louis. I
+looked again and saw that what he said was true; a gnarled tree stump,
+some twisted branches, a deceiving white vapour, and perhaps, too, our
+own vivid imaginations, these were the elements which had given birth to
+our highwayman.
+
+"'I never was more taken in,' said Louis, as he resumed his seat beside
+me. 'It was the dead image of a man on horseback holding out a pistol.
+I'll come down here to-morrow and examine the place, to find out how I
+could have been so silly, but in the daylight, of course, it will look
+quite different. I shan't ever dare to tell the story, however, for
+they'll laugh at me from the Red River to the Mississippi, and say I'm
+getting to be an old fool, and ought to have somebody to look after me!'
+
+"I saw that Louis was ashamed of the mistake he had made, but I was so
+thankful to be safe that I paid little heed to what he said. The next
+day he rode down to the Big Sugar Creek, sure enough, to identify the
+slain, as he said. When he came back, a couple of hours later, he was in
+high good-humour.
+
+"'I shall not be afraid to tell the story against myself now,' he said.
+'What do you think I found in the stump?'
+
+"'What did you find?' asked I, full of interest in this, the only
+highwayman I ever met.
+
+[Sidenote: The Last Laugh]
+
+"'_Sixteen bullet-holes!_ You see, there have been other fools as great
+as myself, but they were ashamed of their folly and kept it dark. I
+shall tell mine abroad and have the last laugh at all events.'"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Dorothy played a highly important part at a critical period
+in the life of her father. She begins in disgrace and ends in triumph.]
+
+Dorothy's Day
+
+BY
+
+M. E. LONGMORE
+
+
+"My costume!" said Dorothy Graham, jumping up from the breakfast-table.
+
+"You need not smash _all_ the china!" observed Dick.
+
+"The parcels post never comes so early," murmured Dorothy's mother. "How
+impulsive that child is!"
+
+In a few minutes Dorothy came back with a crestfallen air and laid a
+brown, uninteresting-looking envelope by her mother's plate.
+
+"I might have known he never comes so early, except with letters," she
+remarked, sitting down again.
+
+"Of course you might," said Dick, clearing the bacon dish, "but you
+never know anything worth knowing."
+
+"Don't tease her," said Mrs. Graham kindly; "it is not often she gets a
+new frock."
+
+"A _costume_," corrected Dick, imitating Dorothy's voice. "A _real_
+tailor one--made in Bond Street!"
+
+Mr. Graham rustled his newspaper, and Dick succumbed.
+
+"Why, Dorothy!" Mrs. Graham was looking at her letter. "Dear me!" She
+ran her eyes quickly through its contents. "I'm afraid that costume
+won't come to-day. They've had a fire."
+
+[Sidenote: A Fire in Bond Street]
+
+"'Prescott's, Bond Street,'" said Mr. Graham, reading from a paragraph
+in the morning paper. "Here it is: 'A fire occurred yesterday afternoon
+in the ladies' tailoring department. The stock-room was gutted, but
+fortunately the assistants escaped without injury.'"
+
+Dorothy, with a very long face, was reading over her mother's shoulder:
+
+"In consequence of a fire in the tailoring department Messrs. Prescott
+beg to inform their customers that some delay will be caused in getting
+out this week's orders. Business will, however, be continued as usual,
+and it will greatly facilitate matters if ladies having costumes now in
+hand will repeat the order by wire or telephone to avoid mistakes."
+
+"It's very smart of them to have got that notice here so soon," said Mr.
+Graham.
+
+"Mother," said Dorothy, swallowing very hard, "do you think it is burnt?
+After being fitted and all!"
+
+"It is a disappointment," said her mother kindly, "but they'll make you
+another."
+
+"It's a _shame_!" burst out Dorothy, with very hot cheeks. "These sort
+of things always happen to _me_! Can't we go to Chelmsford and get one
+ready-made?"
+
+"That's a girl all over!" exclaimed Dick. "Now the man's down, let's
+kick him!"
+
+Mr. Graham turned his head with a sharp look at Dick, who immediately,
+getting very red, pretended to be picking up something under the table.
+
+"I didn't say _anything_ about _any_ man!" said Dorothy, appealing all
+round. "Mother, can't I have a costume from Chelmsford?"
+
+"No, dear," said Mrs. Graham coldly; "this one is ordered."
+
+"Dick is right, Dolly," said her father. "Don't you see it is the people
+who have had the _fire_ we should pity? And is it not bad enough to have
+their place burnt, without losing their customers?"
+
+Dorothy sulked. She thought every one was very unkind, and it seemed the
+last straw when father took Dick's part against her.
+
+It was time for Mr. Graham to go to town. He had eaten scarcely any
+breakfast, and Mrs. Graham, who had been anxiously watching him, had
+eaten none at all, but things of this sort children don't often notice.
+
+When he passed his little girl's chair, he put his hand kindly on her
+shoulder, and the tears that had been so near welled into her eyes.
+
+"Poor Dolly!" Mr. Graham said presently, as he reached for his hat,
+"everything seems of a piece." And he gave a great sigh.
+
+Mrs. Graham always went as far as the gate with him, and he thought they
+were alone in the hall, but Dick had followed them to the dining-room
+door. It was holiday-time, yet Dick was going to Chelmsford for an
+examination. He had come out intending to ask his father before he went
+to London for half a crown. Dick was just at the age when schoolboys try
+to appear exactly the reverse from what they are. He squabbled
+constantly with Dorothy, though he loved her very much, and now, when he
+heard his father sigh, he put his hands in his pockets as if he didn't
+care about anything, and went upstairs whistling.
+
+When Dick got to his room, he took a money-box from the mantelpiece and
+smashed it open with the poker. He had been saving up for a new bat, and
+the box contained seven shillings. He put the money in his pocket and
+ran down again in a great hurry.
+
+"Dick! Dick!" exclaimed his mother, catching him. "Come here! Let me
+brush your collar. How rough your hair is! Dick, you must have a new
+hat! You can't go into the hall with that one."
+
+"All serene, mother," said the boy, submitting impatiently to be
+overhauled. "I can buy a new hat and pitch the old one away."
+
+"How grandly some people talk!" said his mother, pinching his ear. "As
+if the world belonged to them. Well, never mind, dear boy! If you get on
+well and _pass_, no one will remember your hat was shabby. Have you got
+your fare?"
+
+[Sidenote: A Telegram]
+
+"Oh, mother, how you _do_ worry!" exclaimed Dick, wrenching himself
+away; "I've got lots of money--_heaps_!"
+
+He ran across the lawn, and just because he knew she was watching,
+jumped right over the azalea-bushes and wire fence instead of going out
+at the gate, and yet the tired look went out of Mrs. Graham's eyes, and
+a smile crept round her mouth as she watched him.
+
+Dorothy, standing at the dining-room window, saw him go too, and thought
+how horrid it was of Dick to look so glad when she was so unhappy.
+
+"Boys are always like that," she thought. "They don't care a bit about
+any one but themselves."
+
+Mrs. Graham came back into the room holding a telegram in her hand which
+she tore open quickly. Her face went red and then rather white.
+
+"What is it, mother?" said Dorothy eagerly. "Have they arrived?"
+
+"They have been in London two days," said Mrs. Graham, with a curious
+catch in her breath, and she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.
+"They want me up for a day's shopping. If I had known, I could have gone
+with father."
+
+Dorothy stood staring at her mother with wide-open eyes. Half a dozen
+castles in the air seemed tumbling about her head at the same time.
+
+They were expecting her mother's cousins over from America. Dorothy had
+been chattering about them to the girls at school all the term, and it
+was in honour of these very cousins she was having her first Bond Street
+costume. Her mother had not said that was the reason, but Dorothy knew
+it. She had a _sweet_, really _big_ hat too, with tiny rosebuds, and new
+gloves and boots. As a rule her mother was not particular about getting
+everything new at the same time, but she had taken enough pains this
+time to please Dorothy herself.
+
+"They do dress children so at Boston," Dorothy had overheard her mother
+say to Mr. Graham, as a sort of excuse. "I should like Dollie to look
+nice."
+
+And from that one sentence Dorothy had conjured up all sorts of things
+about these wonderful cousins. Of course she thought they were coming to
+stay with them. She expected there would be girls of her own age, and
+that they would be so charmed with their English cousin that they would
+invite her to go back to Boston with them. She had talked about them,
+and thought about them so much that she imagined her mother had _told_
+her all this, but really Mrs. Graham, who talked very little, didn't
+know much about her cousins herself, so she could not have given her
+little daughter all this information if she had been inclined to.
+
+And now it all seemed so _tame_. First no costume, then an ordinary wire
+to ask mother to go up for a day's shopping. They might have come from
+Surrey instead of America. And two whole days before they wired at all.
+
+Perhaps Mrs. Graham was thinking something of the kind too, for she
+stood biting her lip, with the colour going and coming in pretty blushes
+on her cheek, as if she could not make up her mind.
+
+She was just "mother" to Dorothy, but to other people Mrs. Graham was
+both pretty and sweet.
+
+"I _must_ go," she said at length, "and there is scarcely time to get
+ready."
+
+"Oh, _mother_!" cried Dorothy, "can't I come too?"
+
+Mrs. Graham still seemed to be considering something else, and she
+merely answered, "No, dear," and went quickly upstairs.
+
+Dorothy sank down on the sofa in a terribly injured mood. Nobody seemed
+to be thinking of _her_ at all. And before she had got over the first
+brunt of this discovery her mother was back again ready to go, with her
+purse-bag and gloves in her hand.
+
+[Sidenote: Left in Charge]
+
+"Dorothy," she said, arranging her hat before the mirror of the
+overmantel, "you may choose any pudding you like, tell cook. Here are
+the keys"--she paused to throw a small bunch in Dorothy's lap. "Get out
+anything they want. And Dick won't be in till half-past one, tell her.
+And Dollie"--there was again that queer little catch in her voice--"it
+is possible Miss Addiscombe may call this afternoon. I have told Louisa
+to show her right into the drawing-room without telling her I am out,
+and come and find you. I want you to be very nice to her, and explain
+about the Merediths. Tell her I was obliged to go because they only gave
+me the place of meeting, and I have not their address. I shall be home
+as soon as possible, between four and five at latest, so do your best to
+keep her till I come back."
+
+"Did you say Miss _Addiscombe_, mother?" said Dorothy dismally, yet a
+little comforted by having the keys, and with the thought of choosing
+the pudding, "I don't think _she's_ likely to call."
+
+"I said Miss Addiscombe," Mrs. Graham answered decidedly. "Do you
+understand what I wish you to do, Dollie?"
+
+"Yes, mother," said Dorothy, subdued but mutinous.
+
+Then she ran after her to the hall door.
+
+"Mayn't I ask some one to spend the day, mother?" she called, but Mrs.
+Graham was almost at the gate, nearly running to be in time for her
+train, and did not hear her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Graham came home looking very white and tired. "Did Miss Addiscombe
+call?" were the first words she said.
+
+Louisa, who was bringing in the tea, looked meaningly at Dorothy, and
+went out without speaking.
+
+"Oh, mother!" said Dorothy, "I am so sorry, I had been in all day, and
+Helen Jones just asked me to come to the post with her, and when I came
+back there was a motor at the door, and----"
+
+"She _came_!" exclaimed Mrs. Graham. "And you did not give her my
+message! Oh, Dorothy!"
+
+Her tone was almost like a cry of pain. Dorothy was startled. "She
+wouldn't wait, mother, and--and of course it _was_ strange she came
+to-day when she hasn't called for ages and ages! I didn't think she
+would, or I wouldn't have gone," she explained.
+
+Mrs. Graham did not argue the point. She lay down on the sofa and closed
+her eyes. Dorothy longed to ask her about the American cousins, but did
+not dare. Presently she poured out a cup of tea and brought it to her
+mother.
+
+"If you take some tea you will feel better, mother," she said softly.
+
+"If I had asked Dick to do something for me he would have done it,
+Dorothy," said Mrs. Graham bitterly, and without seeming to notice the
+tea she got up and gathered her things together. "I have a headache,"
+she said. "I am not coming down again. Father will not be home to-night,
+so you can tell Louisa there will be no need to lay the cloth for
+dinner. I don't wish any one to come near me." And she went out of the
+room.
+
+Poor Dorothy felt dreadfully uncomfortable and crestfallen. She had been
+alone all day, and it did seem such a little thing to go to the post
+with Helen Jones, who knew all about her costume, and quite agreed with
+her that it was a 'horrid shame' for people to be so careless as to have
+_fires_, when they had the charge of other people's things.
+
+Louisa had scolded her, and been very cross when she came in, but
+Dorothy really saw no reason why it mattered very much what Miss
+Addiscombe thought. It wasn't like mother to mind anything like that so
+much.
+
+Dick came in about half an hour later. He had been home to dinner, and
+had gone out again to a cricket match.
+
+"Mother has gone to bed," said Dorothy rather importantly. "She doesn't
+want to be disturbed, and you are not to go to her. She's got a
+headache, and father isn't coming home."
+
+[Sidenote: Dick's Strange Silence]
+
+Dick looked at her very hard, and without speaking went straight
+upstairs, listened a little, and opened his mother's door. "He _is_ a
+tiresome boy!" thought Dorothy; "now mother will think I never told
+him."
+
+Louisa brought in a poached egg, and some baked apples as he came down
+again.
+
+"Cook says it's so late, you had better make it your supper, sir," she
+said.
+
+"Mother wants a hot-water bottle," answered Dick; "she's as cold as ice.
+I think you or cook had better go up and see about her. Perhaps she'd
+better have a fire."
+
+"A fire in August! Oh, Dick, how _ridiculous_!" exclaimed Dorothy.
+
+"All right, sir," said Louisa, taking the indiarubber bottle he had
+brought down; "don't you worry."
+
+Dick took a book, and planting his elbows on the table, seemed to be
+reading; in reality he was blinking his eyelashes very hard, to keep
+back tears.
+
+Dorothy thought the whole world was going mad. As far as she knew the
+only trouble in it was her own.
+
+"Aren't you going to take any supper, Dick?" she said plaintively.
+
+Dick pushed the egg and apples away, and cutting himself a hunch of
+bread, went out of the room without speaking.
+
+"Every one is very polite to-night," thought Dorothy. However, she sat
+down, ate Dick's egg and helped herself to apples with plenty of sugar,
+and felt a little comforted.
+
+At eight o'clock she went up to bed, glad the tiresome, miserable day
+was at an end. She trod very softly, but her mother heard her and called
+her in.
+
+Dorothy was glad, for she spoke in her natural voice and not at all as
+if she were angry.
+
+She was still dressed and lying on the bed, but her hand, which had
+frightened Dick by being so cold, was now burning.
+
+"I spoke hastily to you, Dollie," she said. "You didn't know how
+important it was. I am going to tell you now, dear, for it may be a
+lesson to you."
+
+Dorothy stood awkwardly by the bed; she didn't like her mother to
+apologise, and she didn't want the lecture which she imagined was
+coming.
+
+"Father," said Mrs. Graham, "is in a very bad way indeed. I can't
+explain to you all about it because you would not understand, but a
+friend he trusted very much has failed him, and another friend has been
+spreading false rumours about his business. If he doesn't get enough
+money to pay his creditors by Saturday he must go bankrupt. Miss
+Addiscombe was a friend of his long ago. She has not been kind to him
+lately, and she has always been rude to me. I didn't tell father because
+I knew he would not let me, but I wrote and told her just how it was,
+and asked her to let bygones be bygones. I was hoping so much she would
+come, and if she came she would have lent him the money. She has so much
+it would mean nothing to her. Then I was disappointed in London. I
+thought Mr. Meredith would have been there--he is rich too--and my
+cousin, but he is not over at all: just his wife and daughter, and they
+are rushing through London. They were so busy we had scarcely time to
+speak. I half wonder they remembered my existence."
+
+"Oh, mother!" protested Dorothy; and then with great effort: "You could
+go over to-morrow to Miss Addiscombe, or write, mother; she would
+understand."
+
+"No, dear. It is no use thinking of it. To offend her once is to offend
+her always. Besides, I am tired out, and there are only two more days. I
+have told you because I didn't want it to all come quite suddenly, and
+you are so wrapt up in yourself, Dollie, you don't notice the way Dick
+does. If you had told me he had _passed_, Dorothy, when I came in, I
+should not have felt quite so bad."
+
+"But I didn't know, mother," said Dorothy. "Dick didn't tell me. _Has_
+he passed?"
+
+"Whose fault was it, Dollie? He came home to dinner and found you all
+alone. Did you _ask_ him how he had got on?"
+
+Dorothy hung her head. Mrs. Graham kissed her. "Well, go to bed and pray
+for dear father," she said. "It is worse for him than for any of us."
+
+Dorothy felt as if she were choking. When she got to the door she stood
+hesitating with her hand on the handle.
+
+"I have a hundred pounds in the Bank, mother, that grandma left me.
+Father can have that if it would be any use." She had made the offer
+with an effort, for Dorothy liked to have a hundred pounds of her own.
+What little girl would not? But her mother answered peevishly: "It would
+be no more use than if you offered him a halfpenny. Don't be foolish."
+
+Dick's door was open and Dorothy went in.
+
+"Isn't it dreadful, Dick!" she said. "What is _bankrupt_? How much money
+does father want?"
+
+"About fifteen hundred," said Dick savagely. "It's all that old
+Pemberton backing out of it. Father wanted to get his patents to
+Brussels, and he's got medals for them all, but it cost a lot of money
+and now they are not bought. So the business will go to smash, and he'll
+lose the patents besides, that's the worst of it!"
+
+"Dick," said Dorothy wistfully, "don't you think it would be better if
+father attended to his proper business and stopped inventing things when
+it costs so much?"
+
+Dick sprang up with blazing eyes.
+
+"You little brute!" he said, "go out of my room. No, I don't. Father's
+the cleverest and best man in the world. He can't help being a genius!"
+
+[Sidenote: The Last Straw]
+
+This was Dorothy's last straw; she went away and threw herself, dressed,
+on her bed, sobbing as if her heart would break. And only this morning
+she thought she was miserable because her new dress had not come.
+
+Dorothy cried till she could cry no longer, and then she got up and
+slowly undressed. The house was very still. A clock somewhere was
+striking ten, and it seemed to Dorothy as if it were the middle of the
+night. She was cold now as her mother had been, but no one was likely to
+come to her. She felt alone and frightened, and as if a wall had
+descended between her and Dick, and her mother and father. Among all the
+other puzzling and dreadful things, nothing seemed so strange to Dorothy
+as that Dick showed better than herself. He had gone up to mother when
+he was told not, and yet it was _right_ (even Dorothy could understand
+that) for him to disobey her, and _she_ had just gone to the post, and
+all this dreadful thing would come of it. Dorothy had always thought
+Dick was such a bad boy and she was so good, and now it seemed all the
+other way. She was _father's_ girl, too, and father was always down on
+Dick, yet--her eyes filled when she thought of it--Dick was loyal, and
+had called her a little brute, and mother said it was worst of all for
+father.
+
+She knelt down by her bed. Until to-night Dorothy had never really felt
+she needed Jesus as a friend, though she sometimes thought she loved
+Him. Now it seemed as if she _must_ tell some one, and she wanted Him
+very, very badly. So she knelt and prayed, and though she cried nearly
+all the time she felt much happier when she got up.
+
+"I am so selfish. I am so sorry. Please help me!" was the burden of poor
+Dollie's prayer, but she got into bed feeling as if Jesus had
+understood, and fell asleep quite calmly.
+
+In the morning Dorothy awoke early. It was scarcely light. It was the
+first time in her life she had woke to sorrow, and it seemed very
+dreadful. Yet Dorothy felt humble this morning, and not helpless as she
+had done last night. She felt as if Someone, much stronger than
+herself, was going to stand by her and help her through.
+
+[Sidenote: Dorothy's Project]
+
+Lying there thinking, many things seemed plain to her that she had not
+understood before, and a thought came into her head. It was _her_ fault,
+and she was the one who should suffer; not father, nor mother, nor Dick.
+It would not be easy, for Dorothy did not like Miss Addiscombe, and she
+was afraid of her, but she must go to her.
+
+Directly the thought came into her head Dorothy was out of bed and
+beginning to dress. And that mysterious clock which she had never heard
+before was just striking five when she stole like a little white ghost
+downstairs, carrying her shoes in her hand, and unbolting the side door,
+slipped out into a strange world which was still fast asleep.
+
+Miss Addiscombe lived ten miles away, but Dorothy did not remember
+anything about that. All her thought was to get there as soon as
+possible. One thing, she knew the way, for the flower-show was held in
+her grounds every year, and Dorothy had always been driven there. It was
+a nearly straight road.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+About ten o'clock that morning a gentleman was driving along the
+high-road when he suddenly pulled up his horse and threw the reins to
+the groom. It had been quite cool when Dorothy started, but now it was
+very hot, and there seemed no air at all. A little girl in a white frock
+was lying by the roadside.
+
+He stooped over her and felt her pulse, and Dorothy opened large,
+startled blue eyes.
+
+"What is it, my dear?" he said.
+
+"I am dying, I think," said Dorothy. "Tell mother I did _try_."
+
+He lifted her into his trap and got in beside her, telling the groom to
+drive on, and wondering very much. Dorothy gave a great sigh and began
+to feel better.
+
+"I think it is because I had no breakfast," she said. "Perhaps I am
+dying of _hunger_."
+
+The gentleman smiled, and searched his pockets. After a time he found
+some milk chocolate. Dorothy would rather have had water, but he made
+her eat a little. Then he took off her hat and gloves, and with a cool,
+soft handkerchief pushed back the hair that was clinging about her damp
+forehead and carefully wiped her face.
+
+"You'll feel better now," he said, fanning her with her hat, and putting
+it on again, as if he had never done anything but dress little girls in
+his life.
+
+Dorothy smiled with a great sigh of relief, and the gentleman smiled
+too. "Now tell us all about it," he said in a friendly way. "Where do
+you live, and where are you going?"
+
+When Dorothy told him he looked very much surprised, and at the same
+time interested, and before she knew what she was about, he had drawn
+from her the whole story, and the more she told him the more surprised
+and interested he became.
+
+"What was the name of the friend who failed your father?" he said at
+last, but Dorothy could not remember.
+
+"Was it Pemberton?" he suggested.
+
+"Oh, yes, Mr. Pemberton," said Dorothy. "At least, Dick said so."
+
+"You don't happen to be _Addiscombe_ Graham's little daughter," he said
+with a queer look, "do you?"
+
+"Father's name is Richard Addiscombe," said Dorothy doubtfully.
+
+"Well, the best thing you can do now is to come home with me and get
+some breakfast," he said. "It is no use going to the Park, for I have
+just been to the station, and Miss Addiscombe was there, with all her
+luggage, going off to the Continent."
+
+Poor Dorothy's heart sank like lead.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she said, "then it's been no use. Poor father!" and her eyes
+filled with tears.
+
+The gentleman did not speak, and in a few minutes they drove in at the
+gates of a beautiful country house, and he lifted her down and took her
+in with him, calling out "Elizabeth!"
+
+A tall girl, about eighteen, came running to him, and after whispering
+to her for a minute, he left Dorothy in her charge, and went into the
+room where his wife was sitting.
+
+"I thought you had gone to town?" she said.
+
+[Sidenote: Mr. Lawrence's Mistake]
+
+"Providentially, no," he said, so gravely that she looked surprised. "Do
+you remember Addiscombe Graham, dear?"
+
+"Has anything happened to him?" said Mrs. Lawrence. "I have just been
+reading about him in the paper; all his life-saving appliances have had
+gold medals at the exhibition. What is it, Edward? Of course, I know you
+are a friend of his."
+
+"A Judas sort of friend," said Mr. Lawrence. "Do you know what I've
+done? I've nearly landed him in the Bankruptcy Court. Pemberton told me
+a few weeks ago he had promised to give him some spare cash that would
+be loose at the end of the year, and I persuaded him to put it in
+something else. I said, 'Graham doesn't want it, he's simply _coining_
+over his inventions,' and I thought it too. Now it appears he was
+_counting_ on that money to pull him through the expenses."
+
+The tall girl took Dorothy upstairs to a beautiful bathroom, got her
+warm water, and asked if she would like a maid to do her hair.
+
+After a little while she came for her again and took her into a very
+pretty room, where there was a dainty little table laid for breakfast.
+
+"When you have finished," she said, "just lie on the sofa and rest. I am
+sorry I can't stay with you, but I must go and feed the peacocks."
+
+[Illustration: HER HOSTESS HAD BEEN FEEDING THE PEACOCKS.]
+
+Dorothy took a little toast and tea, but she did not feel so very hungry
+after all, and for a time was quite glad to lie down on the couch. Once
+or twice she got up and looked out of the window. Her girl hostess was
+moving across the lawn. She had evidently been feeding the peacocks,
+and was now gathering flowers. How pleasant all this wealth and comfort
+seemed to Dorothy! And then, by comparison, _she_ was feeling so
+miserable!
+
+Everything was quite quiet in the house save for the telephone bell,
+which kept sounding in the hall. Then she heard Mr. Lawrence calling
+out: "Are you _there_? Look sharp! Yes, to-day. Money down! Do you
+understand?" Then he would ring off and call up some one else. Last of
+all his voice changed from a business tone to a very friendly one. "Are
+you there? What cheer, old chap? _That's_ all right! I'll see you
+through. Two o'clock, Holborn Restaurant."
+
+Dorothy could not hear what was said on the other side. How surprised
+she would have been if she had known the last conversation was with her
+own father!
+
+Then a very kind-looking lady came in and kissed her. "The motor is
+round," she said. "I'm so glad to have seen you, dear. We all admire
+your father very much."
+
+Dorothy felt bewildered but followed her out, and there was a lovely
+motor, and her friend in it!
+
+"You won't faint by the way this time," he said, "eh? Now, if you can
+keep your own counsel, little lady, you may hear some good news
+to-night."
+
+They were tearing along the level road already, and almost in a flash,
+it seemed to Dorothy, they were passing the church of her own village.
+
+"Oh, please let me get out!" she said to Mr. Lawrence in an agony. "If
+mother heard the motor she might think it was Miss Addiscombe, and be so
+disappointed. You have been kind, very, very kind, but I can't help
+thinking about father."
+
+He let her out, and waving his hand, was soon off and out of sight.
+Dorothy walked slowly and sadly home. It seemed as if she had been away
+for _days_, and she was half afraid to go in, but to her surprise
+nothing seemed to have happened at all. Only Dick came rushing out, and,
+to her surprise, kissed her.
+
+[Sidenote: A Heroine]
+
+"I say, Dollie!" he began, "where _have_ you been? You gave me an awful
+fright. Don't tell any one I called you a brute."
+
+"Is mother frightened?" said Dollie. "I--I meant to help, but I've done
+nothing."
+
+"How could you help?" said Dick, surprised. "Mother stayed in bed; she
+is only getting up now."
+
+A boy came up with a telegram. Dick took it and after holding it a
+moment tore it open.
+
+"Oh, Dick!" expostulated Dorothy, "opening mother's telegram!"
+
+But Dick threw his cap high up in the air, and shouted "_Jubilate!_"
+Then he rushed up the stairs, Dorothy timidly following.
+
+This was the wire:
+
+"_See daylight. Meeting Lawrence at Holborn Restaurant._--FATHER."
+
+"Don't shut Dorothy out," said Mrs. Graham, holding the yellow paper,
+and with tears of joy standing in her eyes. "Why, my little girl, how
+pale you are! I wish I had not told you. You need never have known. Mr.
+Lawrence is just the man."
+
+"Oh, mother!" said Dorothy, springing into her arms, and beginning to
+laugh and cry at once, yet happier than she had ever been in her life
+before. "But if you hadn't told me it couldn't have happened."
+
+When Mr. Lawrence and father came down together that evening and the
+whole story was told, Dorothy, to her surprise, found when thinking
+least about herself she had suddenly become a heroine, even in the eyes
+of Dick.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A very unusual hunting episode, that nearly ended in a
+tragedy.]
+
+A Strange Moose Hunt
+
+BY
+
+HENRY WILLIAM DAWSON
+
+
+Some years ago, while living in Canada, in a village situated on the
+bank of a large river, I was a spectator of a moose hunt of a most novel
+and exciting character.
+
+That you may the better understand what I am going to relate I will
+first introduce you to our village Nimrod.
+
+As his real name is no concern of ours I will here give him his popular
+nickname of "Ramrod," a name by which he was well known not only in our
+village but for a considerable distance around. It was conferred upon
+him, I suppose, because he walked so upright and stiff, and also perhaps
+because he at one time had worn the Queen's uniform.
+
+A queer old stick was Ramrod. He knew a little of most mechanical things
+and was for ever tinkering at something or other, useful or otherwise as
+the case might be. He could also "doctor" a sick cow or dog, and was
+even known to have successfully set the broken leg of an old and
+combative rooster.
+
+His mechanical turn of mind was continually leading him to the
+construction of the most wonderful arrangements of wood and iron ever
+seen. In fact, his operations in this direction were only held in check
+by one want, but that a great one, namely, the want of a sufficiency of
+cash.
+
+[Sidenote: A Mystery]
+
+Now for the greater part of one spring Ramrod had shut himself up in his
+woodshed, and there he was heard busy with hammer and saw all day long,
+except when called forth by the tinkle of the little bell attached to
+the door of his shop, where almost anything might have been purchased.
+
+Many were the guesses as to "what can Ramrod be up to now?" And often
+did we boys try to catch a glimpse of what was going on within that
+mysterious shed; but in vain. Ramrod seemed to be always on the alert,
+and the instant an intrusive boy's head appeared above the first dusty
+pane of the small window by which the shed was lighted, it was greeted
+with a fierce and harsh gar-r-ar-r-r, often accompanied with a dash of
+cold water, which the old fellow always seemed to have in readiness.
+
+But one day as a lot of youngsters were down on the river bank preparing
+for an early swim they were startled by the advent of another lad, who,
+with scared looks and awful voice, declared that Ramrod was "making his
+own coffin," and that he, the boy, had seen it with his own eyes.
+
+The rumour spread, and many were the visits paid that afternoon to the
+little shop by the river.
+
+But Ramrod kept his secret well, and baffled curiosity had to return as
+wise as it came. Ramrod was determined that his work should not be
+criticised until completed. He had evidently heard the saying that
+"women, children, and fools should not be allowed to see a thing until
+finished."
+
+At last one day the great work _was_ completed, and turned out to be,
+not a coffin, but what the happy builder called a boat. But to call it a
+boat was a misnomer, for the thing was to be propelled not by oars but
+by a paddle.
+
+And certainly through all the ages since the construction of the ark of
+Noah was never such a boat as this. It would be impossible to convey in
+words a true idea of what the craft was like. Perhaps to take an
+ordinary boat, give it a square stern, a flat bottom without a keel, and
+straight sides tapering to a point at the bow, would give an approximate
+idea of what the thing actually was, and also how difficult to navigate.
+
+The winter had been unusually uneventful. Nothing had happened to break
+the cold monotony of our village life, so that when one day an excited
+and panting individual rushed up the river bank screaming out "A moose,
+a moose in the river!" it was only natural that we should all be thrown
+into a state of ferment.
+
+Some who possessed firearms rushed off to get them out, while others ran
+along the bank seeking a boat.
+
+As, however, the ice having only just "run," the boats and punts
+ordinarily fringing the river were still all up in the various barns and
+sheds where they had been stowed at the close of navigation, their
+efforts were in vain, and they could only stand fuming and casting
+longing eyes at the now retreating moose.
+
+For of course the animal had turned as soon as he perceived the hubbub
+which his appearance under such unusual circumstances had created.
+Instead, therefore, of crossing the river, it now made for an island
+which was about half a mile out in the stream.
+
+It had a good distance to swim, however, before it could accomplish
+that, and in the meantime preparations were being made a short way up
+the river which promised serious trouble for Mr. Moose.
+
+Of course, you may be sure that Ramrod had caught the excitement with
+the rest of us, and was equally desirous of the capture of the moose.
+But he was a modest man and would let others have a chance first.
+
+After a little while, though, when it became evident that unless
+something was done pretty soon the moose would escape, it was noticed
+that he became graver, and that his face wore a puzzled look of
+uncertainty.
+
+[Sidenote: Ramrod's "Coffin"]
+
+All at once, however, the doubt vanished, and Ramrod started off towards
+his house as fast as his long stiff legs would carry him.
+
+When he emerged he bore in one hand an ordinary rope halter, with a
+noose at one end, just such a halter as was used by all the farmers for
+securing their horses to their stalls. In his other hand was a paddle,
+and with these harmless-looking implements he was about to start in
+chase of the moose.
+
+Quickly proceeding to the river bank, he drew out from beneath a clump
+of bushes the "coffin," and, unheeding alike the warnings of the elders
+and derisive shouts of the youngsters, elicited by the appearance of his
+curious-looking craft, he knelt down in the stern and set out on his
+perilous adventure.
+
+But he had not gone far before it was seen that something was wrong.
+
+The boat had a will of its own, and that will was evidently exerted in
+direct opposition to the will of its owner.
+
+It went, but how? No schoolboy ever drew a truer circle with a bit of
+string and a slate-pencil than that cranky craft made on the placid
+surface of the river each time Ramrod put a little extra strength into
+his stroke.
+
+At last, however, the gallant boatman managed to make headway, and,
+aided by the current, he now rapidly approached the moose, which was
+considerably distressed by the great length of its swim.
+
+But the instant the animal became aware that it was being pursued, it
+redoubled its efforts to gain the island, which was not very distant.
+And this it would have succeeded in doing had it not been for the almost
+herculean exertions of Ramrod, by which it was eventually headed up
+stream again.
+
+And now a stern chase up and down and across the river ensued. It really
+did not last long, though it seemed hours to us who were watching from
+the bank.
+
+Just as Ramrod thought he had made sure of the moose this time, and
+dropping his paddle would seize the halter to throw over the head of the
+animal, the latter would make a sudden turn, and before the baffled
+hunter could regain command of his boat, would be well on his way down
+stream again.
+
+All this time the crowd collected on the bank were greatly concerned
+about Ramrod's safety.
+
+They saw, what he did not, that the affair would end in his getting a
+ducking at the very least. But worse than that was feared, as, once
+overturned, the miserable conception of a boat would be beyond the power
+of any one in the water to right it again. And, moreover, the water was
+still intensely cold, and a very few minutes would have sufficed to give
+the cramp to a much stronger man than Ramrod.
+
+Perceiving all this, some of the more energetic had from the first
+bestirred themselves in preparations for launching a boat.
+
+But this occupied some time, for, as I have said, the boats usually to
+be seen fringing the bank during the summer months had not yet made
+their appearance. Oars also and tholepins had to be hunted up, and by
+the time all this was accomplished the need of help out there on the
+river was very urgent indeed.
+
+Plenty of pluck had Ramrod, or he would have given up the chase when he
+found himself becoming so exhausted, by the tremendous exertion
+necessary to keep control of his cranky craft, that he had scarcely
+sufficient strength left to follow the deer in its many dodges and
+turnings.
+
+But strong as the moose was, its time had come. Suddenly the animal
+stopped, gave a scream that made the blood curdle in all our veins, and
+would have sunk out of sight only that, with a last desperate effort,
+Ramrod got up with it, and this time succeeded in throwing the halter
+over its head and drawing the noose tight.
+
+[Sidenote: An Upset]
+
+Thoroughly exhausted as the moose appeared to be, this act of Ramrod's
+roused it to make one more effort for life and freedom. Turning quickly
+about and snorting furiously, it made for its assailant, and before
+Ramrod could check it had capsized the boat and sent that worthy head
+over heels into the water.
+
+Presence of mind is a splendid quality, and Ramrod possessed it to the
+full. Retaining his hold of the halter, he endeavoured to right the
+boat, but soon perceiving the impossibility of so doing, he relinquished
+the attempt, and being a good swimmer, boldly struck out for the island,
+that being the nearest land.
+
+Refreshed by his involuntary bath, and not yet feeling the effects of
+the cold, Ramrod made no doubt but that he should easily accomplish the
+task.
+
+As for the moose, it was completely done up, and was now no more trouble
+than a log of wood. The effort by which it had overturned the boat was
+the last it made, and its captor was now quietly towing it ashore.
+
+But cold water does not agree with all constitutions, especially if the
+body has been fatigued and heated before its application.
+
+Cramp seized upon poor Ramrod, and though he made a gallant and
+desperate struggle to reach land with the aid of his arms alone, he felt
+that only by a miracle could he do so.
+
+Moment by moment he felt himself growing weaker and less able to
+withstand the chill which was striking through to his very heart.
+
+At last the supreme moment came. He could go no farther. Brave and
+collected to the last, he raised his eyes to heaven as in thought he
+commended his soul to his Maker.
+
+At that instant the sound of oars struck his ear, and the hope it
+brought him gave him sufficient strength to keep up until a friendly
+hand grasped him under the arm.
+
+With his last little bit of strength he raised his hand, still grasping
+the halter, and smiled triumphantly; then he lost consciousness.
+
+The "coffin" was brought ashore afterwards, but no one had the hardihood
+to navigate it. Even towing it was a trial of temper, for it kept
+swinging from side to side with a heavy jerking motion with every pull
+at the oars.
+
+Ramrod, I am glad to say, lived to have many a quiet paddle in his queer
+boat whenever he went a-fishing; and this, it appears, was all he
+intended it for when he built it.
+
+Thus ended this famous moose hunt, but the talk of it lasted for many a
+year; and whenever a pleasure-party were out on the river enjoying a
+sail by moonlight, this was the one story that was never stale, and
+mention of "Ramrod's coffin" would cause a smile to appear on the face
+of even the most grave.
+
+The moose, when brought ashore, proved to be quite young, though
+full-grown, as its horns were not much more than "buds."
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Edith Harley was called upon to play a rather difficult part.
+But her patience and her obedience to the call of duty brought their own
+reward.]
+
+A Girl's Patience
+
+BY
+
+C. J. BLAKE
+
+
+"A letter from Rachel! Is it possible she can have relented at last?"
+
+Dr. Harley looked across the breakfast-table at his wife as he spoke;
+and the children, of all ages and sizes, who were busy with their bowls
+of porridge, stopped the clatter of tongues and spoons to listen.
+
+"Read it, dear," said Mrs. Harley, in her slow, gentle voice. "It must
+be ten years since Rachel wrote that last dreadful letter. Surely she
+must have learnt to forgive and forget by this time!"
+
+"Send some of these children away, then. Maude and Jessie can stay; but
+it is time the others were getting ready for lessons."
+
+There was a hurried, scrambling finish of the simple breakfast; then a
+little troop of boys and girls filed out of the rather shabby
+dining-room, and Dr. and Mrs. Harley were alone with their elder
+daughters.
+
+          "'MY DEAR BROTHER,'" began the doctor,--"'I am
+          growing an old woman now, and in spite of the good
+          reasons I had for ceasing to write, or to
+          communicate with you in any way, I do not feel
+          that I can keep up the estrangement from my own
+          flesh and blood any longer.
+
+          "'If you like to let bygones be bygones, I, on my
+          side, am quite willing to do the same. I am
+          writing, too, because I have heard a good deal, in
+          one way or another, about your large and expensive
+          family, and the difficulty you have in making both
+          ends meet. It has been more than hinted to me that
+          I ought to render, or at least offer, you some
+          assistance. I have thought perhaps the best thing
+          would be to take one of your girls for a six
+          months' visit; to stay longer, or, indeed, always,
+          if I should, after such a trial, continue to be
+          pleased with her.
+
+          "'I don't want a young child, but one old enough
+          to be companionable. Of course I would provide for
+          education, and everything, so long as she stayed
+          with me. It would surely be a relief to have even
+          one of such a number taken off your hands, and it
+          would be the girl's own fault if the relief were
+          not made permanent. If this should meet your
+          views, write at once, and fix a date for one of
+          your daughters to come to me. Your affectionate
+          sister,
+
+                                           "'RACHEL HARLEY.'"
+
+
+"Oh, papa!" exclaimed Maude and Jessie in a breath, "how could we ever
+leave you, and dear mamma too! We should be miserable away from home."
+
+"From Aunt Rachel's letter, I should think she must be a dreadfully
+stiff sort of person," added audacious Jessie. "Please don't say that we
+shall have to go."
+
+"Not so fast, my dear," returned her father. "Only one of you all can
+go, and I do not think either you or Maude could possibly be spared. But
+what does mamma say?"
+
+"You know my wretched health, Henry," said Mrs. Harley. "I never could
+do without Maude to look after the housekeeping; and Jessie saves both
+school and governess for the younger ones. But then there is Edith. Why
+should not Edith go?"
+
+[Sidenote: Edith Harley]
+
+"Why, indeed?" repeated the doctor. "Edith does nothing but mischief--at
+least, so far as the account of her doings reaches my ears. She is quite
+too big for Jessie to teach, and we cannot afford to send her to a good
+school at present, which is the thing that ought to be done. It really
+seems to me a providential opening for Edith."
+
+"Poor Edie!" sighed the mother again. "It would be a hard life for her,
+I am afraid."
+
+"Oh, nonsense, Maria! You were always unjust to Rachel. You think,
+because she took such deep offence, that there can be nothing good in
+her. Surely I ought to know my own sister's character! Rachel would do
+her duty by any inmate of her home--of that I am quite certain."
+
+"Well, Henry, it would be a help in many ways. Edith is growing such a
+great girl, nearly fifteen now, and if it would lighten your cares to
+have her provided for, I ought not to resist. But at least it would be
+well to let her know what you think of doing, and hear what she says."
+
+"I don't know that what she says need affect the question much. The fact
+is, Maria, something will have to be done. We are exceeding what we can
+afford even now, and the children will be growing more expensive instead
+of less so. For my own part, I can only feel glad of Rachel's offer. I
+must go now; but you can tell Edith, if you like; and tell her, too, to
+hold herself in readiness, for the sooner the matter is settled the
+better."
+
+Edith Harley, called indifferently by her brothers and sisters the
+Middle One and the Odd One, was the third daughter and the fifth child
+of this family of nine. She was a rather tall, awkward girl, who grew
+out of her frocks, and tumbled her hair, and scandalised her elder
+sisters, in their pretty prim young ladyhood, by playing with the boys
+and clinging obstinately, in spite of her fifteen years, to her hoop and
+skipping-rope. An unfortunate child was this chosen one, always getting
+into scrapes, and being credited with more mischief than she ever really
+did.
+
+It was Edith who had caught the whooping-cough through playing with some
+of the village children, and had brought it home, to be the plague of
+all the nine for a whole winter and spring.
+
+It was Edith who took Johnnie and Francie down to the pondside to play,
+and let them both tumble in. True, she went bravely in herself and
+rescued them, but that did not count for very much. They were terribly
+wet, and if they had been drowned it would have been all her fault.
+
+It was Edith who let Tom's chickens out for a run, and the cat came and
+killed two of them; that was just before she forgot to shut the
+paddock-gate, when the donkey got into mamma's flower-garden and spoilt
+all the best plants.
+
+So poor Edith went on from day to day, thankful if she could only lay
+her head upon her pillow at night without being blamed for some fresh
+escapade, yet thoroughly happy in the freedom of her country life, in
+the enjoyment of long summer-day rambles, and endless games with the
+little brothers, who thought her "the jolliest girl that ever was," and
+followed her lead without scruple, sure that whatever mischief she might
+get them into she would bravely shield them from the consequences.
+
+A country doctor, with a not very lucrative practice, Dr. Harley had,
+when Edith was about ten years old, sustained a severe pecuniary loss
+which greatly reduced his income. It was then that the governess had to
+be given up, and the twin boys who came next to Maude and Jessie were
+sent to a cheaper school. These boys were leaving now, one to go to the
+university, through the kindness of a distant relative, the other to
+pass a few weeks with the London coach who would prepare him for a Civil
+Service examination.
+
+Jessie, a nice, clever girl, with a decided taste for music, could teach
+the four younger ones very well--had done so, indeed, ever since Miss
+Phipps left; but in this, as in everything, Edith was the family
+problem. She could not, or would not, learn much from Jessie; she hated
+the piano and needlework, and even professed not to care for books.
+
+[Sidenote: "Would it help Papa?"]
+
+Yet she astonished the entire family sometimes by knowing all sorts of
+odd out-of-the-way facts; she could find an apt quotation from some
+favourite poet for almost any occasion, and did a kind of queer
+miscellaneous reading in "a hole-and-corner way," as her brother Tom
+said, that almost drove the sister-governess to distraction.
+
+And now the choice of a companion for Miss Rachel Harley, the stern,
+middle-aged aunt, whom even the elder girls could scarcely remember to
+have seen, had fallen upon Edith.
+
+The news came to her first as a great blow. There could not be very much
+sympathy between the gentle, ailing, slightly querulous mother and the
+vigorous, active girl; yet Edith had very strong, if half-concealed,
+home affections, and it hurt her more than she cared to show that even
+her mother seemed to feel a sort of relief in the prospect of her going
+away for so long.
+
+"Don't you _mind_ my going, mamma?" she said at last, with a little
+accent of surprise.
+
+"Well, Edith dear, papa and I think it will be such a good thing for you
+and for us all. You have been too young, of course, to be told about
+money matters, but perhaps I may tell you now, for I am sure you are old
+enough to understand, that papa has a great many expenses, and is often
+very much worried. There are so many of you," added the poor mother,
+thinking with a sigh of her own powerlessness to do much towards lifting
+the burden which pressed so heavily upon her husband's shoulders.
+
+"Do you think it would help papa, then, if I went?" asked the girl
+slowly.
+
+"Indeed I do. You would have a good home for a time, at all events; and
+if your Aunt Rachel should take to you, as we may hope she will if you
+earnestly try to please her, she may be a friend to you always."
+
+"Very well, then; I shall try my best to do as you and papa wish."
+
+That was all Edith said, and Mrs. Harley was quite surprised. She had
+expected tears and protests, stormy and passionate remonstrances--not
+this quiet submission so unlike Edith.
+
+Perhaps no one understood the girl less than her own mother. It might
+have helped Mrs. Harley to know something of her daughter's inner nature
+if she could have seen her, after their talk together, steal quietly up
+to the nursery, where there were only the little ones at play, and,
+throwing her arms round little Francie, burst into a fit of quiet
+sobbing that fairly frightened the child.
+
+"What is it, Edie? Don't cry, Edie! Francie'll give you a kiss, twenty
+kisses, if you won't cry," said the pretty baby voice.
+
+"Your poor Edie's going away, and it will break her heart to leave you,
+my pet," said the girl through her tears, straining the child in a
+passionate embrace. Presently she grew calmer, and put the wondering
+little one down.
+
+"There, Francie, I've done crying now, and you needn't mind. You'll
+always love Edie, won't you, if she does go away?"
+
+"Yes, always, always love Edie," said the child; and Johnnie chimed in
+too, "And me--me always love Edie."
+
+But there were the boys to be told after that--Alfred and Claude, the
+two bright boys of ten and eight years, who had been her own especial
+playmates; and loud was their outcry when they heard that Edith was
+going.
+
+"We might as well have no sisters," said the ungrateful young rascals.
+"Maude and Jessie don't care for us. They only think we're in the way.
+They're always telling us to wipe our feet, and not make such a noise;
+and Francie's too little for anything. We'd only got Edith, and now
+she's to go. It's too bad, that it is!"
+
+But their protest availed nothing. The very same night Dr. Harley wrote
+to his sister, thanking her for her kind offer, and adding that, if
+convenient, he would bring his daughter Edith, fifteen years of age, to
+her aunt's home at Silchester in a week's time.
+
+There was much to do in that short week in getting Edith's wardrobe into
+something like order. Each of the elder sisters sacrificed one of their
+limited number of dresses to be cut down and altered for the younger
+one.
+
+The May sunshine of a rather late spring was beginning to grow warm and
+genial at last, and the girl really must have a new hat and gloves and
+shoes, and one or two print frocks, before she could possibly put in an
+appearance at Aunt Rachel's.
+
+Almost anything had done for running about the lanes at Winchcomb, where
+every one knew the Harleys, and respected them far more for not going
+beyond their means, than they would have done for any quantity of fine
+apparel.
+
+[Sidenote: Goodbye!]
+
+But the preparations were finished at last, the goodbyes were said, and
+Edith, leaving home for the first time in her life, sat gravely by her
+father's side in the train that was timed to reach Silchester by six in
+the evening.
+
+She had been up very early that morning, before any of the others were
+astir; and when she was dressed, went out into the garden, where she
+could be alone, to think her last thoughts of the wonderful change in
+her life.
+
+She had gone on always so carelessly and happily, that the new turn of
+affairs sobered and startled her. She seemed to herself to say goodbye,
+not only to her home, but to the long, bright, happy childhood that had
+been spent there. And her thoughts were full of the few words Mrs.
+Harley had spoken about her papa's expenses and worries.
+
+"If I had only known," she said to herself; "if I had only thought about
+things, I would have tried to learn more, and be some help while I was
+here. But it is no use grieving about that now; it seems to me I am come
+to what our rector calls a 'turning point.' I can begin from to-day to
+act in a different way, and I will. I will just think in everything how
+I can help them all at home. I will try to please Aunt Rachel, and get
+her to like me, and then perhaps I shall grow in time to bear the
+thought of staying with her for a long, long while. Only, my poor boys
+and my dear little Johnnie and Francie--I did think I should have had
+you always. But it will be good for you, too, if I get on well at
+Silchester."
+
+When she had gone so far, Nancy, the housemaid, came out with broom and
+bucket, and the mingled sounds of laughing and crying, and babel of many
+voices that floated out through the opened windows, told Edith that the
+family were rising for the last breakfast together.
+
+It was a good thing when all the farewells were over, and for the first
+few miles of the journey she was thankful to sit in silence in the
+stuffy second-class carriage, and use all her strength of will to keep
+back the tears that would try to come.
+
+"Papa," she said shyly, as her father laid down his newspaper, and woke
+up to the fact that the two ladies who had begun the journey with them
+had got out at the last station--"papa, I want you to promise me
+something, please."
+
+"Well, Edith, what is it?"
+
+"I want you to promise not to tell Aunt Rachel about all the things that
+I have done--while I was at home, I mean."
+
+"You have never done anything very dreadful, child," said the doctor
+with a smile. "Your Aunt Rachel has not been accustomed to little girls,
+it is true; but I suppose she won't expect you to be quite like an old
+woman."
+
+[Sidenote: "I will do my very best"]
+
+"No; but if she knew about Johnnie and Francie falling into the water,
+and about the chickens, and how Alfred and I let Farmer Smith's cow into
+the potato-field, and the other things, she might not understand that I
+am going to be different; and I shall be different--I shall indeed,
+papa."
+
+"Yes, Edith, it is time you began to be more thoughtful, and to remember
+that there are things in the world, even for boys and girls, far more
+important than play. If it will be any comfort to you, I will readily
+promise not to mention the cow, or the chickens, or even that famous
+water escapade. But I shall trust to your own good sense and knowledge
+of what is right, and shall expect you to make for yourself a good
+character with your aunt. You may be sure she will, from the first, be
+influenced much more by your behaviour than by anything I can say."
+
+"Yes, I know," murmured Edith. "I will do my very best."
+
+She would have liked to say something about helping her father in his
+difficulties, but the shyness that generally overcame her when she
+talked to him prevented any further words on the subject; and Dr. Harley
+began to draw her attention to the objects of interest they were
+passing, and to remark that in another twenty minutes they would be
+half-way to Silchester.
+
+It seemed a long while to Edith before the train drew up in the large,
+glass-roofed station, so different from the little platform at
+Winchcomb, with the station-master's white cottage and fragrant
+flower-borders. Silchester is not a very large town, but to the
+country-bred girl the noise and bustle of the station, and of the first
+two or three streets through which they were driven in the cab Dr.
+Harley had called, seemed almost bewildering.
+
+Very soon, however, they began to leave shops and busy pavements behind,
+and to pass pretty, fancifully-built villas, with very high-sounding
+names, and trim flower-gardens in front. Even these ceased after a
+while, and there were first some extensive nursery grounds, and then
+green open fields on each hand.
+
+"It will be quite the country after all, papa!" exclaimed Edith,
+surprised.
+
+"Not quite, Edith. You will only be two or three miles out of
+Silchester, instead of twenty miles from everywhere, as we are at
+Winchcomb. Look! that is Aunt Rachel's house, just where the old Milford
+Lane turns out of the road--that house at the corner, I mean."
+
+"Where?" said Edith, half-bewildered. Her unaccustomed eyes could see
+nothing but greenery and flowers at first, for Miss Harley's long, low,
+two-storey cottage was entirely overgrown with dense masses of ivy and
+other creeping plants. It stood well back from the road, in a grassy,
+old-fashioned garden, shaded by some fine elms; and one magnificent
+pear-tree, just now glorious in a robe of white blossoms, grew beside
+the entrance-gate.
+
+"Oh, papa, what a lovely old house!" cried the girl involuntarily. "Did
+you know it was like this?"
+
+Dr. Harley smiled.
+
+"I suppose you think it lovely, Edith. I have often wondered, for my own
+part, why your aunt should bury herself here. But come--jump out; there
+she is at the door. The King's Majesty would not draw her to the garden
+gate, I think."
+
+Edith got out of the cab, feeling like a girl in a dream, and followed
+her father up the gravel walk, noting mechanically the gorgeous
+colouring of tulips and hyacinths that filled the flower-beds on either
+hand.
+
+A tall, grey-haired lady, well advanced in life, came slowly forward,
+holding out a thin, cold hand, and saying in a frigid tone, "Well,
+brother, so we meet again after these ten years. I hope you are well,
+and have left your wife and family well also."
+
+[Sidenote: A Doubtful Welcome]
+
+"Quite well, thank you, Rachel, excepting Maria, who is never very well,
+you know," said the doctor heartily, taking the half-proffered hand in
+both his. "And how are you, after all this long time? You don't look a
+day older than when we parted."
+
+"I am sorry I cannot return the compliment," remarked the lady, with a
+grim smile. "I suppose it is all the care and worry of your great family
+of children that have aged you so. And Maria was always such a poor,
+shiftless creature. I daresay, now, with all that your boys and girls
+cost you, you have two or three servants to keep, instead of making the
+girls work, and saving the wages and the endless waste that the best of
+servants make."
+
+"We have but two," said the doctor, in a slightly irritated tone of
+voice. "My girls and their mother are ladies, Rachel, if they are poor.
+I can't let them do the rough work. For the rest, they have their hands
+pretty full, I can assure you. You have little idea, living here as you
+do, how much there is to be done for a family of nine children."
+
+"No, I am thankful to say I have not. But you had better come in, and
+bring the girl with you."
+
+With these ungracious words Aunt Rachel cast her eyes for the first time
+upon Edith, who had stood a silent and uncomfortable listener while her
+father and aunt were talking.
+
+"Humph!" ejaculated Miss Harley, after looking her niece over from top
+to toe with a piercing, scrutinising gaze, that seemed to take in every
+detail of figure, face, and toilette, and to disapprove of all; "humph!
+The child looks healthy, and that is all I can say for her. But bring
+her in, Henry--Stimson and the boy can see to her box. I suppose you
+will stay yourself for to-night?"
+
+"I should not be able to go home to-night, as you know," replied Dr.
+Harley. "But if my staying would be at all inconvenient, I can go to one
+of the Silchester hotels."
+
+His sister Rachel proved to be the same irritating, cross-grained woman
+he had quarrelled with and parted from so long before, and he was a
+little disappointed, for it is wonderful how time softens our thoughts
+of one another, and how true it is that--
+
+          "No distance breaks the tie of blood,
+            Brothers are brothers evermore."
+
+Although Miss Rachel ruffled and annoyed him at every second
+word--"rubbed him up the wrong way," as her maid Stimson would have
+said--the doctor had a real regard for her in his heart, and respected
+her as a woman of sterling principle, and one whose worst faults were
+all upon the surface.
+
+"There is no need to talk about hotels," and Miss Harley drew herself
+up, half-offended in her turn. "It's a pity if I can't find houseroom
+for my own brother, let him stay as long as he will. Now, Edith, if that
+is your name, go along with Stimson, and she will show you your room,
+where you can take off your hat and things. And be sure, mind you brush
+your hair, child, and tie it up, or something. Don't come down with it
+hanging all wild about your shoulders like that."
+
+Poor Edith's heart sank. She was rather proud of her luxuriant brown
+tresses, which her mother had always allowed her to wear in all their
+length and beauty, and she did not even know how to tie them up herself.
+
+"This way, miss," said the prim, elderly servant. "I knew as soon as I
+saw you that your hair would never do for Miss Harley. I'll fix it
+neatly for you."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Edith, much relieved; and in a few minutes all the
+flowing locks were gathered into one stiff braid, and tied at the end
+with a piece of black ribbon.
+
+"There, now you look more like a young lady should!" cried Stimson,
+surveying her handiwork with pleasure. "You'll always find me ready to
+oblige you, miss, if you'll only try to please Miss Harley; and you
+won't mind my saying that I hope you'll be comfortable here, and manage
+to stay, for it's frightful lonely in the house sometimes, and some one
+young about the place would do the mistress and me good, I'm sure."
+
+[Sidenote: A Great Improvement]
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Edith again. She could not trust herself to say
+more, for the words, that she felt were kindly meant, almost made her
+cry.
+
+"Now you had better go down to the parlour," Stimson went on. "Miss
+Harley and your papa won't expect you to be long, and the tea is ready,
+I know."
+
+With a beating heart Edith stepped down the wide, old-fashioned
+staircase, and went shyly in at the door which Stimson opened for her.
+She found herself in a large, handsomely-furnished room, where the table
+was laid for tea; and Miss Harley sat before the tray, already busy with
+cups and saucers.
+
+"Come here, Edith, and sit where I can see you. Yes, that is a great
+improvement. Your hair looks tidy and respectable now."
+
+After this greeting, to Edith's great relief, she was left to take her
+tea in peace and silence, the doctor and his sister being occupied in
+conversation about their early days, and continually mentioning the
+names of persons and places of whom she knew little or nothing.
+
+Only once the girl started to hear her aunt say, "I always told you,
+Henry, that it was a great mistake. With your talents you might have
+done almost anything; and here you are, a man still in middle life,
+saddled and encumbered with a helpless invalid wife and half a score of
+children, to take all you earn faster than you can get it. It is a mere
+wasted existence, and if you had listened to me it might all have been
+different."
+
+"How cruel!" exclaimed Edith to herself indignantly. "Does Aunt Rachel
+think I am a stock or a stone, to sit and hear my mother--all of
+us--spoken about like that? I shall never, never be able to bear it!"
+
+Even the doctor was roused. "Once for all, Rachel," he said in a
+peremptory tone, "you must understand that I cannot allow my wife and
+children to be spoken of in this manner. No doubt I have had to make
+sacrifices, but my family have been a source of much happiness to me;
+and Maria, who cannot help her health, poor thing! has done her best
+under circumstances that would have crushed a great many women. As for
+the children, of course they have their faults, but altogether they are
+good children, and I often feel proud of them. You have been kind enough
+to ask Edith to stay here, but if I thought you would make her life
+unhappy with such speeches as you made just now, I would take her back
+with me to-morrow."
+
+"Well, well," said Miss Harley, a little frightened at the indignation
+she had raised. "You need not take me up so, Henry. Of course I shall
+not be so foolish as to talk to the child just as I would to you. I have
+her interest and yours truly at heart; and since I don't want to quarrel
+with you again, we will say no more of your wife and family. If you have
+quite finished, perhaps we might take a turn in the garden."
+
+The rest of the evening passed quietly away. Edith was glad when the
+time came to go to her room, only she so dreaded the morrow, that would
+have to be passed in Aunt Rachel's company, without her father's
+protecting presence.
+
+Soon after breakfast in the morning the doctor had to say goodbye. It
+was a hard parting for both father and daughter. Edith had never known
+how dearly she loved that busy and often-anxious father till she was
+called to let him go. As for the doctor, he was scarcely less moved, and
+Miss Rachel had to hurry him away at last, or he would have lost the
+train it was so important he should catch.
+
+Somehow the doctor never could be spared from Winchcomb. There was no
+other medical man for miles round, and people seemed to expect Dr.
+Harley to work on from year's end to year's end, without ever needing
+rest or recreation himself.
+
+[Sidenote: A Close Examination]
+
+As soon as they were left alone, Miss Rachel called Edith into the
+parlour, and bidding her sit down, began a rigorous inquiry as to her
+capabilities and accomplishments--whether she had been to school, or had
+had a governess; whether she was well grounded in music, and had studied
+drawing and languages; what she knew of plain and fancy needlework; if
+her mother had made her begin to learn cookery--"as all young women
+should," added Miss Rachel, sensibly enough.
+
+Poor Edith's answers were very far from satisfying Miss Harley.
+
+"You say you have had no teacher but your sister since Miss Phelps, or
+Phipps, or whatever her name was, left. And how old is your sister, may
+I ask?"
+
+"Jessie is eighteen," answered Edith. "And she is very clever--every one
+says so, especially at music."
+
+"Why didn't she teach you, then, and make you practise regularly? You
+tell me you have had no regular practice, and cannot play more than two
+or three pieces."
+
+"It is not Jessie's fault," said Edith, colouring up. "Papa and mamma
+liked us all to learn, but I am afraid, aunt, I have no natural talent
+for music. I get on better with some other things."
+
+Aunt Rachel opened a French book that lay on the table.
+
+"Read that," she said shortly, pointing to the open page.
+
+Edith was at home here; her pronunciation was rather original, it is
+true, but she read with ease and fluency, and translated the page
+afterwards without any awkward pauses.
+
+"That is better," said her aunt, more graciously. "You shall have some
+lessons. As for the music, I don't believe in making girls, who can't
+tell the National Anthem from the Old Hundredth, strum on the piano
+whether they like it or not. You may learn drawing instead. And then I
+shall expect you to read with me--good solid authors, you know, not
+poetry and romances, which are all the girls of the present day seem to
+care for."
+
+"Thank you, aunt," said Edith. "I should like to learn drawing very
+much."
+
+"Wait a while," continued Miss Harley. "Perhaps you won't thank me when
+you have heard all. I shall insist upon your learning plain needlework
+in all its branches, and getting a thorough insight into cookery and
+housekeeping. With your mother's delicate health there ought to be at
+least one of the daughters able to take her place whenever it is
+needful. Your sisters don't know much about the house, I daresay."
+
+"Maude does," answered Edith, proud of her sister's ability. "Maude can
+keep house well--even papa says so."
+
+"And Jessie?"
+
+"Jessie says her tastes are not domestic, and she has always had enough
+to do teaching us, and looking after the little ones."
+
+"And what did you do?" demanded Aunt Rachel. "You can't play; you can't
+sew. By your own confession, you don't know the least thing about
+household matters. It couldn't have taken you all your time to learn a
+little French and read a few books. What _did_ you do?"
+
+Edith blushed again.
+
+"I--I went out, Aunt Rachel," she said at last.
+
+"Went out, child?"
+
+"Yes. Winchcomb is a beautiful country place, you know, and Alfred and
+Claude and I were nearly always out when it was fine. We did learn
+something, even in that way, about the flowers and plants and birds and
+live creatures. Papa always said plenty of fresh air would make us
+strong and healthy, and, indeed, we _are_ well. As for me, I have never
+been ill that I remember since I was quite a little thing."
+
+[Sidenote: We will Change all that!]
+
+"My patience, child! And did Maria--did your mother allow you to run
+about with two boys from morning till night?"
+
+"It is such a quiet place, aunt, no one thought it strange. We knew all
+the people, and they were always glad to see us--nearly always," added
+truthful Edith, with a sudden remembrance of Mr. Smith's anger when he
+found his cow in the potato field, and one or two other little matters
+of a like nature.
+
+"Well, I can only say that you have been most strangely brought up. But
+we will change all that. You will now find every day full of regular
+employments, and when I cannot walk out with you I shall send Stimson.
+You must not expect to run wild any more, but give yourself to the
+improvement of your mind, and to fitting yourself for the duties of
+life. Now I have letters to write, and you may leave me till I send for
+you again. For this one day you will have to be idle, I suppose."
+
+Edith escaped into the garden, thankful that the interview was over, and
+that, for the time at least, she was free.
+
+The very next day she was introduced to Monsieur Delorme, who undertook
+to come from Silchester three times a week to give her lessons in
+French, and to Mr. Sumner, who was to do the same on the three alternate
+days, for drawing. It seemed a terrible thing to Edith at first to have
+to learn from strangers; but Monsieur Delorme was a charming old
+gentleman, with all the politeness of his nation; and, as Edith proved a
+very apt pupil, they soon got on together beautifully.
+
+Mr. Sumner was not so easy to please. A disappointed artist, who hated
+teaching, and only gave lessons from absolute necessity, this gentleman
+had but little patience with the natural inexperience of an untrained
+girl.
+
+But Edith had made up her mind to overcome all difficulties, and it was
+not very long before she began to make progress with the pencil too, and
+to enjoy the drawing-lesson almost as well as the pleasant hours with
+Monsieur Delorme.
+
+These were almost the only things she did enjoy, however. It was hard
+work to read for two hours every morning with Miss Rachel, who made her
+plod wearily through dreary histories and works of science that are
+reduced to compendiums and abridgements for the favoured students of the
+present day.
+
+But even that was better than the needlework, the hemming and stitching
+and darning, over which Stimson presided, and which, good and useful as
+it is, is apt to become terribly irksome when it is compulsory, and a
+poor girl must get through her allotted task before she can turn to any
+other pursuit.
+
+Every day, too, Edith went into the kitchen and learned pastry-making
+and other mysteries from the good-natured cook, who, with Stimson, and
+the boy who came daily to look after the garden and pony made up Aunt
+Rachel's household.
+
+What with these occupations, and the daily walk or drive, the girl found
+her time pretty well taken up, and had little to spare for the rambles
+in the garden she loved so much, and for writing letters home.
+
+To write and to receive letters from home were her greatest pleasures,
+for the separation tried her terribly.
+
+It was difficult, too, for one who had lived a free, careless life, to
+have to do everything by rule, and submit to restraint in even the
+smallest matters.
+
+In spite of her efforts to be cheerful and to keep from all complaining,
+Edith grew paler and thinner, and so quiet, that Aunt Rachel was quite
+pleased with what she called her niece's "becoming demeanour."
+
+The girl was growing fast; she was undoubtedly learning much that was
+useful and good, but no one knew what it cost her to go quietly on from
+day to day and never send one passionate word to the distant home,
+imploring her father to let her return to the beloved circle again.
+
+[Sidenote: A Welcome Letter]
+
+But the six months, though they had seemed such a long time to look
+forward to, flew quickly by when there were so many things to be done
+and learned in them. Edith began to wonder very much in the last few
+weeks whether she had really been able to please her aunt or not.
+
+It was not Miss Harley's way to praise or commend her niece at all.
+Young people required setting down and keeping in their proper places,
+she thought, rather than having their vanity flattered. Yet she could
+not be blind to Edith's honest and earnest efforts to please and to
+learn, and at the end of the six months a letter went to Winchcomb,
+which made both Dr. and Mrs. Harley proud of their child.
+
+"Edith has her faults, as all girls have," wrote Miss Rachel; "but I may
+tell you that ever since she came I have been pleased with her conduct.
+She makes the best use of the advantages I am able to give her, and I
+think you will find her much improved both in knowledge and deportment.
+You had better have her home for a week or two, to see you and her
+brothers and sisters, and then she can return, and consider my house her
+home always. I make no doubt that you will be glad to yield her to me
+permanently, but be good enough not to tell her how much I have said in
+her favour. I don't want the child's head turned."
+
+"It is very kind of Rachel," said Mrs. Harley, after reading this letter
+for the third or fourth time. "I must say I never expected Edith to get
+to the end of her six months, still less that she should gain so much
+approval. She was always such a wild, harem-scarem girl at home."
+
+"She only wanted looking after, my dear, and putting in a right way,"
+said the doctor, in a true masculine spirit; and Mrs. Harley answered,
+with her usual gentle little sigh:
+
+"I don't think that was quite all. Maude and Jessie, who have been
+brought up at home, have done well, you must admit. But I sometimes
+think there is more in Edith--more strength of character and real
+patience than we ever gave her credit for. You must excuse my saying so,
+but she could never have borne with your sister so long if she had not
+made a very great effort."
+
+"And now she is to go back to this tyrant of a maiden aunt," laughed the
+doctor. "But by all means let her come home first, as Rachel suggests,
+and then we shall see for ourselves, and hear how she likes the prospect
+too."
+
+That week or two at home seemed like a delightful dream to Edith. It is
+true the fields and woods had lost all their sweet summer beauty; but
+the mild late autumn, which lasted far into November that year, had a
+charm of its own; and then it was so pleasant to be back again in the
+dear old room which she had always shared with Jessie, to have the boys
+and Francie laughing and clinging about her, and to find that they had
+not forgotten her "one bit," as Johnnie said, and that to have their
+dear Edith back was the most charming thing that could possibly have
+happened to them.
+
+"You must make much of your sister while she is here," said the doctor.
+"It will not be long before you have to say 'Goodbye' again."
+
+"Oh, papa, can't she stay till Christmas?" cried a chorus of voices.
+
+"No, no, children. We must do as Aunt Rachel says, and she wants Edith
+back in a fortnight at the outside."
+
+Both father and mother, though they would not repeat Miss Harley's
+words, could not help telling their daughter how pleased they were with
+her.
+
+"You have been a real help to your father, Edith," said Mrs. Harley.
+"Now you have done so well with Aunt Rachel, we may feel that you are
+provided for, and I am sure you will be glad to think that your little
+brothers and sisters will have many things they must have gone without
+if you had had to be considered too."
+
+[Sidenote: A Trying Time]
+
+Edith felt rewarded then for all it had cost her to please her aunt and
+work quietly on at Silchester, and she went back to Ivy House with all
+her good resolutions strengthened, and her love for the dear ones at
+home stronger than ever.
+
+For a while things went on without much change. The wild, country girl
+was fast growing into a graceful accomplished young woman, when two
+events happened which caused her a great deal of thought and anxiety.
+
+First, Aunt Rachel, who had all her life enjoyed excellent health, fell
+rather seriously ill. She had a sharp attack of bronchitis, and instead
+of terminating in two or three weeks, as she confidently expected, the
+disease lingered about her, and at last settled into a chronic form, and
+made her quite an invalid.
+
+Both Edith and Stimson had a hard time while Miss Harley was at the
+worst. Unaccustomed to illness, she proved a very difficult patient, and
+kept niece and maid continually running up and downstairs, and
+ministering to her real and fancied wants.
+
+The warm, shut-up room where she now spent so many hours tried Edith
+greatly, and she longed inexpressibly sometimes for the free air of her
+dear Winchcomb fields, and the open doors and windows of the old house
+at home. Life at Silchester had always been trying to her; it became
+much more so when she had to devote herself constantly to an exacting
+invalid, who never seemed to think that young minds and eyes and hands
+needed rest and recreation--something over and above continued work and
+study.
+
+Even when she was almost too ill to listen, Aunt Rachel insisted on the
+hours of daily reading; she made Edith get through long tasks of
+household needlework, and, to use her own expression, "kept her niece to
+her duties" quite as rigidly in sickness as in health.
+
+Then, when it seemed to Edith that she really must give up, and
+petition for at least a few weeks at home, came a letter from her
+father, containing some very surprising news. A distant relative had
+died, and quite unexpectedly had left Dr. Harley a considerable legacy.
+
+"I am very glad to tell you," wrote her father, "that I shall now be
+relieved from all the pecuniary anxieties that have pressed upon me so
+heavily for the last few years. Your mother and I would now be very glad
+to have you home again, unless you feel that you are better and happier
+where you are. We owe your Aunt Rachel very many thanks for all her
+kindness, but we think she will agree that, now the chief reason for
+your absence from home is removed, your right place is with your
+brothers and sisters."
+
+To go home! How delightful it would be! That was Edith's first thought;
+but others quickly followed. What would Aunt Rachel say? Would she
+really be sorry to lose her niece, or would she perhaps feel relieved of
+a troublesome charge, and glad to be left alone with her faithful
+Stimson, as she had been before?
+
+"I must speak to my aunt about it at once," thought Edith. "And no doubt
+papa will write to her too."
+
+But when she went into the garden, where her aunt was venturing to court
+the sunshine, she found her actually in tears.
+
+"Your father has written me a most unfeeling letter," said the poor
+lady, sitting on a seat, and before Edith could utter a word. "Because
+he is better off he wants to take you away. He seems not to think in the
+least of my lonely state, or that I may have grown attached to you, but
+suggests that you should return home as soon as we can arrange it,
+without the least regard for my feelings."
+
+"Papa would never think you cared so much, Aunt Rachel. Would you really
+rather I should stay, then?"
+
+"Child, I could never go back to my old solitary life again. I did not
+mean to tell you, and perhaps I am not wise to do so now, but I will say
+it, Edith--I have grown to love you, my dear, and if you love me, you
+will not think of going away and leaving me to illness and solitude.
+Your father and mother have all their other children--I have nothing and
+no one but you. Promise that you will stay with me?"
+
+[Sidenote: "I have Grown to Love you!"]
+
+"I must think about it, aunt," said Edith, much moved by her aunt's
+words. "Oh, do not think me ungrateful, but it will be very hard for me
+to decide; and perhaps papa will not let me decide for myself."
+
+But when Edith, in her own room, came to consider all her aunt's claim,
+it really seemed that she had no right, at least if her parents would
+consent to her remaining, to abandon one who had done so much for her.
+It was, indeed, as she had said, a very difficult choice; there was the
+old, happy, tempting life at Winchcomb, the pleasant home where she
+might now return, and live with the dear brothers and sisters without
+feeling herself a burden upon her father's strained resources; and there
+was the quiet monotonous daily round at Ivy House, the exacting invalid,
+the uncongenial work, the lack of all young companionship, that already
+seemed so hard to bear.
+
+And yet, Edith thought, she really ought to stay. Wonderful as it
+seemed, Aunt Rachel had grown to love her. How could she say to the
+lonely, stricken woman, "I will go, and leave you alone"?
+
+"Well, Edith?" said Miss Harley eagerly, when her niece came in again
+after a prolonged absence.
+
+"I will stay, Aunt Rachel, if my father will let me. I feel that I
+cannot--ought not--to leave you after all that you have done for me."
+
+So it was settled, after some demur on Dr. Harley's part, and the quiet
+humdrum days went on again, and Edith found out how, as the poet says--
+
+          "Tasks, in hours of insight willed,
+           May be in hours of gloom fulfilled."
+
+For Miss Harley, after that involuntary betrayal of her feelings,
+relapsed into her own hard, irritable ways, and often made her niece's
+life a very uncomfortable one.
+
+Patiently and tenderly Edith nursed her aunt through the lingering
+illness that went on from months to years; very rarely she found time
+for a brief visit to the home where the little ones were fast growing
+taller and wiser, the home which Jessie had now exchanged for one of her
+own, and where careful Maude was still her mother's right hand.
+
+Often it seemed to the girl that her lot in life had been rather harshly
+determined, and she still found it a struggle to be patient and cheerful
+through all.
+
+And yet through this patient waiting there came to Edith the great joy
+and blessing of her life.
+
+Mr. Finch, the elderly medical man who had attended Miss Harley
+throughout her illness, grew feeble and failing in health himself. He
+engaged a partner to help him in his heavy, extensive practice, and this
+young man, Edward Hallett by name, had not been many times to Ivy House
+before he became keenly alive to the fact that Miss Harley's niece was
+not only a pretty, but a good and very charming girl. It was strange how
+soon the young doctor's visits began to make a brightness in Edith's
+rather dreary days, how soon they both grew to look forward to the two
+or three minutes together which they might hope to spend every alternate
+morning.
+
+Before very long, Edith, with the full approval of her parents and her
+aunt, became Edward Hallett's promised wife.
+
+They would have to wait a long while, for the young doctor was a poor
+man, and Dr. Harley could not, even now, afford to give his daughter a
+marriage portion.
+
+But, while they waited, Edith's long trial came to a sudden, unexpected
+end.
+
+Poor Miss Harley was found one morning, when Stimson, who had been
+sleeping more heavily than usual, arose from the bed she occupied in
+her mistress's room, lying very calmly and quietly, as though asleep,
+with her hands tightly clasped over a folded paper, which she must have
+taken, after her maid had left her for the night, from the box which
+always stood at her bedside. The sleep proved to be that last long
+slumber which knows no waking on earth, and the paper, when the dead
+fingers were gently unclasped, was found to contain the poor lady's last
+will and testament, dated a year previously, and duly signed and
+witnessed.
+
+[Sidenote: Miss Harley's Will]
+
+In it she left the Ivy House and the whole of her, property to her "dear
+niece, Edith Harley, who," said the grateful testatrix, "has borne with
+me, a lonely and difficult old woman; has lived my narrow life for my
+sake, and, as I have reason to believe, at a great sacrifice of her own
+inclinations and without a thought of gain, and who richly deserves the
+reward herein bequeathed to her."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There could be no happier home found than that of Edith Hallett and her
+husband in the Ivy House at Silchester. Nor did they forget how that
+happiness came about.
+
+[Illustration: "AS HE KISSED THEIR FIRSTBORN UNDER THE MISTLETOE."]
+
+"We owe all to your patience," said Dr. Hallett to Edith, as he kissed
+their firstborn under the mistletoe at the second Christmastide of their
+wedded life.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A story, founded on fact, of true love, of changed lives, and
+of loving service.]
+
+The Tasmanian Sisters
+
+BY
+
+E. B. MOORE
+
+
+The evening shadows were settling down over Mount Wellington in
+Tasmania. The distant city was already bathed in the rosy after-glow.
+
+It was near one of the many lakes which abound amongst the mountains
+round Hobart that our short tale begins.
+
+It was in the middle of January--midsummer in Tasmania. It had been a
+hot day, but the heat was of a dry sort, and therefore bearable, and of
+course to those born and bred in that favoured land, it was in no way
+trying.
+
+On the verandah of a pretty wooden house of the ch�let description,
+stood a lady, shading her eyes from the setting sun, a tall, graceful
+woman; but as the sun's rays fell on her hair, it revealed silver
+threads, and the sweet, rather worn face, with a few lines on the
+forehead, was that of a woman of over forty; and yet she was a woman to
+whom life's romance had only just come.
+
+She was gazing round her with a lingering, loving glance; the gaze of
+one who looks on a loved scene for the last time. On the morrow Eva
+Chadleigh, for so she was called, was leaving her childhood's home,
+where she had lived all her life, and going to cross the water to the
+old--though to her new--country.
+
+Sprinkled all down the mountain sides were fair white villas, or wooden
+ch�let-like houses, with their terraces and gardens, and most of them
+surrounded by trees, of which the eucalyptus was the most common. The
+soft breezes played round her, and at her feet the little wavelets of
+the lake rippled in a soft cadence. Sounds of happy voices came wafted
+out on the evening air, intermingled with music and the tones of a rich
+tenor voice.
+
+That voice, or rather the owner of it, had made a havoc in that quiet
+home. Till its owner had appeared on the scene, Eva and her sister had
+lived quietly together, never dreaming of change. They had been born,
+and had lived all their lives in the peaceful ch�let, seeing no one,
+going nowhere.
+
+[Sidenote: A Belated Traveller]
+
+One night, about a year previously, a belated traveller knocked at the
+door, was given admittance, and, in return for the hospitality shown
+him, had the audacity to fall in love with Blanche Chadleigh, Eva's twin
+sister. Then, indeed, a change came into Eva's life. Hitherto the two
+sisters had sufficed to each other; now she had to take a secondary
+position.
+
+The intruder proved to be a wealthy settler, a Mr. Wells, a man of good
+family, though alone in the world. In due course the two were married,
+but Blanche was loath to leave her childhood's home. So it resulted in
+their remaining there while his own pretty villa, a little higher up the
+mountain, was being built.
+
+And now Eva too had found her fate. A church "synod" had been held;
+clergymen of all denominations and from all parts of the earth being
+present. The sisters had been asked to accommodate one or two clergymen;
+one of these was an old Scotch minister with snowy locks, and keen dark
+eyes.
+
+How it came about Eva Chadleigh never knew; she often said he never
+formally proposed to her, but somehow, without a word on either side,
+it came to be understood that she should marry him.
+
+"Now you're just coming home with me, lassie," said the old man to the
+woman of forty-five, who appeared to him as a girl. "I'll make ye as
+happy as a queen; see here, child, two is company, and three is
+trumpery, as the saying goes. It isn't that your sister loves ye less,"
+seeing a pained look cross her face, "but she has her husband, don't ye
+see?" And Eva did see. She fell in love, was drawn irresistibly to her
+old minister, and it is his voice, with its pleasant Scotch accent, that
+is now rousing her from her reverie at the time our tale begins.
+
+"Come away--come away, child. The night dews are falling; they're all
+wearying for ye indoors; come now, no more looking around ye, or I'll
+never get ye away to-morrow."
+
+"But you promise to bring me back some day, Mr. Cameron, before very
+long."
+
+"Ay, ay, we'll come back sure enough, don't fret yourself; but first ye
+must see the old country, and learn to know my friends."
+
+Amongst their neighbours at this time was a young man, apparently about
+thirty years old; he had travelled to Hobart in the same ship as Mr.
+Cameron, for whom he had conceived a warm feeling of friendship. Captain
+Wylie had lately come in for some property in Tasmania, and as he was on
+furlough and had nothing to keep him at home, he had come out to see his
+belongings, and since his arrival at Hobart had been a frequent visitor
+at the ch�let.
+
+Though a settled melancholy seemed to rest upon him, his history
+explained it, for Captain Wylie was married, and yet it was years since
+he had seen his wife. They had both met at a ball at Gibraltar many
+years ago. She had been governess in an officer's family on the "Rock"
+while his regiment had been stationed there. She was nineteen, very
+pretty, and alone in the world. They had married after five or six
+weeks' acquaintance, and parted by mutual consent after as many months.
+She had been self-willed and extravagant, he had nothing but his pay at
+that time, and she nearly ruined him.
+
+[Sidenote: Captain Wylie]
+
+It ended in recriminations. He had a violent temper, and she was proud
+and sarcastic. They had parted in deep anger and resentment, she to
+return to her governessing, for she was too proud to accept anything
+from him, he to remove to another regiment and go to India.
+
+At first he had tried to forget all this short interlude of love and
+happiness, and flung himself into a gay, wild life: but it would not do.
+He had deeply loved her with the first strong, untried love of a young
+impetuous man, and her image was always coming before him. An intense
+hunger to see her again had swept away every feeling of resentment.
+Lately he had heard of her as governess to a family in Gibraltar, and a
+great longing had come over him just to see her once more, and to find
+out if she still cared for him.
+
+He and Mr. Cameron had travelled out together on a sailing ship, and
+during the voyage he had been led to confide in the kindly, simple old
+gentleman; but so sacred did the latter consider his confidence that
+even to his affianced bride he had never recalled it.
+
+All these thoughts crowded into the young officer's mind as he paced up
+and down in the stillness of the night, disinclined to turn in. He was
+startled from his reverie by a voice beside him.
+
+"So you have really decided to come with us to-morrow?" It was Mr.
+Cameron who spoke. "Ye know, lad, the steamer is not one of the fine new
+liners. I doubt she's rather antiquated, and as I told ye yesterday, she
+is a sort of ambulance ship, as one may say. She is bringing home a good
+many invalided officials and officers left at the hospital here by other
+ships. It seems a queer place to spend our honeymoon in, and I offered
+my bride to wait for the next steamer, which won't be for another
+fortnight or three weeks, and what do you think she said? 'Let us go;
+we may be of use to those poor things!' That's the sort she is."
+
+"She looks like that," said Captain Wylie, heartily. "I should like to
+go with you," continued the young man. "Since I have decided on the step
+I told you of, I cannot remain away a day longer. I saw the mate of the
+_Minerva_ yesterday, and secured my cabin. He says they have more
+invalids than they know what to do with. I believe there are no nurses,
+only one stewardess and some cabin boys to wait on us all."
+
+The night grew chill, and after a little more talk the older gentleman
+went in, but the younger one continued pacing up and down near the lake,
+till the rosy dawn had begun to light up the summits.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was in the month of February, a beautiful bright morning; brilliant
+sunshine flooded the Rock of Gibraltar, and made the sea of a dazzling
+blueness, whilst overhead the sky was unclouded.
+
+A young lady who stood in a little terraced garden in front of a house
+perched on the side of the "Rock" was gazing out on the expanse of sea
+which lay before her, and seemed for the moment oblivious of two
+children who were playing near her, and just then loudly claiming her
+attention. She was their governess, and had the charge of them while
+their parents were in India.
+
+The house they lived in was the property of Mr. Somerset, who was a
+Gibraltarian by birth, and it was the children's home at present. Being
+delicate, the climate of Gibraltar was thought better for them than the
+mists of England. Major and Mrs. Somerset were shortly expected home for
+a time on furlough, and there was great excitement at this prospect.
+
+"Nory, Nory, you don't hear what I am saying! When will mamma come? You
+always say 'soon,' but what does 'soon' mean? Nory, you don't hear me,"
+and the governess's dress was pulled.
+
+This roused her from her reverie, and like one waking from a dream she
+turned round. "What did you say, dear? Oh, yes, about your mother. Well,
+I am expecting a letter every mail. I should think she might arrive
+almost any time; they were to arrive in Malta last Monday, and now it is
+Wednesday. And that reminds me, children, run and get on your things, we
+have just time for a walk before your French mistress comes."
+
+[Sidenote: At Gibraltar]
+
+"Oh, do let us go to the market, Nory, it is so long since we went
+there. It is so stupid always going up the 'Rock,' and you are always
+looking out to sea, and don't hear us when we talk to you. I know you
+don't, for when I told you that lovely story about the Brownies, the
+other day, you just said 'yes' and 'no' in the wrong places, and I knew
+you were not attending," said sharp little Ethel, who was not easily put
+off.
+
+"Oh, Nory, see the monkeys," cried the little boy, "they are down near
+the sentry box, and one of them is carrying off a piece of bread."
+
+"They are very tame, aren't they, Nory?" asked Ethel. "The soldiers
+leave bread out for them on purpose, Maria says."
+
+"Yes, but you know I don't care for them, Ethel. They gave me such a
+fright last year they came down to pay a visit, and I discovered one in
+the bathroom. But run to Maria, and ask her to get you ready quickly,
+and I will take you to the market."
+
+In great glee the happy little children quickly donned their things, and
+were soon walking beside their governess towards the gay scene of
+bargaining and traffic.
+
+Here Moors are sitting cross-legged, with their piles of bright yellow
+and red slippers turned up at the toe, and calling out in loud harsh
+voices, "babouchas, babouchas," while the wealthier of them, dressed in
+their rich Oriental dress, are selling brass trays and ornaments.
+
+The scene is full of gaiety and life, and it is with difficulty that the
+young governess drags the children away. But now fresh delights begin:
+they are in the narrow streets where all the Moorish shops with their
+tempting array of goods attract the childish eye--sweets of all sorts,
+cocoanut, egg sweets, almond sweets, pine-nut sweets, and the lovely
+pink and golden "Turkish delight," dear to every child's heart.
+
+"Oh, Nory!" in pleading tones, and "Nory" knows that piteous appeal
+well, and is weak-minded enough to buy some of the transparent
+amber-like substance, which is at all events very wholesome. The sun was
+so powerful that it was quite pleasant on their return to sit in the
+little terraced garden and take their lunch before lesson-time, and
+while their governess sipped her tea, the children drank their goat's
+milk, and ate bread and quince jelly.
+
+The warm February sun shone down on her, but she heeded it not; a
+passage in Mrs. Somerset's letter, which had just been handed to her,
+haunted her, and she read again and again: she could get no farther. "I
+believe it is very likely we shall take the next ship that touches here,
+it is the _Minerva_ from Tasmania. They say it is a hospital ship, but I
+cannot wait for another, I hunger so for a sight of the children."
+
+The young governess was none other than Norah Wylie. She had never
+ceased following her husband's movements with the greatest, most painful
+interest. She knew he had lately gone to Tasmania; suppose he should
+return in that very ship? More unlikely things had happened. She was at
+times very weary of her continual monotonous round, though she had been
+fortunate enough to have got a very exceptional engagement, and had been
+with Mrs. Somerset's children almost ever since she and her husband had
+parted.
+
+As Norah sat and knitted, looking out to sea and wondering where her
+husband was, he, at the very moment, was pacing up and down the deck of
+the _Minerva_. They had so far had a prosperous journey, fair winds, and
+a calm sea. Some of the invalids were improving, and even able to come
+to table, for sea air is a wonderful life-giver. But there were others
+who would never see England. It was a day of intense heat in the Red
+Sea, and even at that early season of the year there was not a breath of
+air.
+
+Amongst those who had been carried up out of the stifling cabin was one
+whose appearance arrested Captain Wylie's attention, as he took his
+constitutional in the lightest of light flannels. He could not but be
+struck by the appearance of the young man. He had never seen him before,
+but he looked so fragile that the young officer's kind heart went out to
+him. He was lying in an uncomfortable position, his head all twisted and
+half off the limp cabin pillow.
+
+Something in the young face, so pathetic in its youth, with the ravages
+of disease visible in the hectic cheek, and harsh, rasping cough,
+touched the strong young officer. He stooped down and put his hand on
+the young lad's forehead; it was cold and clammy. Was he dying?
+
+Mrs. Cameron had come over and was standing beside him. She ran down and
+brought up the doctor, explaining the young man's state.
+
+[Sidenote: The Doctor's Verdict]
+
+"He will pass away in one of these fainting fits," said the tired man as
+he followed her. He was kind in his way, but overwhelmed with work.
+"This may revive him for the time being," he went on as they ascended
+the cabin stairs, "but he cannot live long. I do feel for that young
+fellow, he is so patient. You never hear a word of complaint."
+
+By this time they had reached the sick man. "Here, my good fellow, try
+and take this," said the doctor, as Eva Cameron gently raised the young
+head on her arm. The large dark eyes were gratefully raised to the
+doctor's face, and a slight tinge of colour came to the pale lips.
+
+[Illustration: "NOW I AM GOING TO FAN YOU," SHE SAID.]
+
+"Now I am going to fan you," said Mrs. Cameron, as she sat beside him.
+Now and then she sprinkled lavender water on his head and hands.
+
+"Thank you," he said; "how nice that is! Would you sing to me? I heard
+you singing the other day."
+
+Eva softly sang a Tasmanian air which was wild and sweet.
+
+"Will you do me a favour?" asked the young man. "Please sing me one of
+the dear old psalms. I am Scotch, and at times yearn for them, you would
+hardly believe how much."
+
+She sang:
+
+          "God is our refuge and our strength,
+                 In straits a present aid:
+           Therefore, although the earth remove,
+                 We will not be afraid."
+
+As she sang tears rolled down the wan cheek, but a look of perfect peace
+came over the pale face. She went on:
+
+          "A river is, whose streams do glad
+                  The city of our God,
+           The holy place, wherein the Lord
+                  Most High hath His abode."
+
+He was asleep, the wan young cheek leaning on his hand in a child-like
+attitude of repose. Eva sat and watched him, her heart full of pity. She
+did not move, but sat fanning him. Soon Mr. Cameron and Captain Wylie
+joined her; as they approached she put her finger on her lips to inspire
+silence.
+
+She had no idea what the words of the dear old psalm had been to the
+young Highlander--like water to a parched soul, bringing back memories
+of childhood, wooded glens, heather-clad hills, rippling burns, and
+above all the old grey kirk where the Scotch laddie used to sit beside
+his mother--that dear mother in whom his whole soul was wrapped up--and
+join lustily in the psalms.
+
+The dinner-bell rang unheeded--somehow not one of the three could leave
+him.
+
+"How lovely!" he said at last, opening and fixing his eyes on Eva. "I
+think God sent you to me."
+
+"Ay, laddie," said the old Scotchman, taking the wasted hand in his,
+"but it seems to me you know the One who 'sticketh closer than a
+brother'? I see the 'peace of God' in your face."
+
+"Ah, you are from my part of the country," said the lad joyfully, trying
+to raise himself, but sinking back exhausted. "I know it in your voice,
+it's just music to me. How good God has been to me!"
+
+They were all too much touched by his words to answer him, and Eva could
+only bend over him and smooth his brow.
+
+"Now mother will have some one to tell her about me," he added, turning
+to Mrs. Cameron, and grasping her hand. Then, as strength came back in
+some measure to the wasted frame, he went on in broken sentences to tell
+how he had been clerk in a big mercantile house in Hobart, how he had
+been invalided and lying in the hospital there for weeks. "But I have
+saved money," he added joyfully, "she need not feel herself a burden on
+my sister any more; my sister is married to a poor Scotch minister, and
+she lives with them, or was to, till I came home. Now that will never
+be. Oh, if I could just have seen her!"
+
+"But you will see her again, laddie," said the old man. "Remember our
+own dear poet Bonar's words:
+
+          "Where the child shall find his mother,
+            Where the mother finds the child,
+           Where dear families shall gather
+            That were scattered o'er the wild;
+               Brother, we shall meet and rest
+              'Mid the holy and the blest."
+
+"Thank you," said the dying lad. "I think I could sleep." His eyes were
+closing, when a harsh loud voice with a foreign accent was heard near.
+
+[Sidenote: "I say I will!"]
+
+"I say I will, and who shall hinder me?"
+
+"Hush, there is a dying man here!" It was the doctor who spoke. A
+sick-looking, but violent man, who had been reclining in a deck chair
+not far off, was having a tussle with a doctor, and another man who
+seemed his valet.
+
+"Indeed you should come down, sir," the man was saying, "there is quite
+a dew falling."
+
+"You want to make out that I am dying, I suppose, but I have plenty of
+strength, I can tell you, and will be ordered by no one!"
+
+"Well, then, you will hasten your end, I tell you so plainly," said the
+doctor sternly.
+
+The man's face altered as he spoke, a kind of fear came over him, as he
+rose to follow the doctor without a word. As he passed near the young
+Highlander, he glanced at him and shuddered, "He's young to die, and
+have done with everything."
+
+"He would tell you he is just going to begin with everything," said Mr.
+Cameron, who had heard the words, and came forward just then. "Doctor, I
+suppose we need not move him," he added, glancing at the dying lad, "you
+see he is going fast."
+
+"No, nothing can harm him now, poor young fellow. I will go and speak to
+the captain--will you help Mr. Grossman to his cabin?"
+
+As they reached the state-room door, Mr. Cameron said, "Friend, when
+your time comes, may you too know the peace that is filling the heart of
+yon lad."
+
+"He is believing in a lie, I fear," said the other.
+
+"And yet, when you were in pain the other day, I heard you call loudly,
+'God help me!'"
+
+"Oh, well, I suppose it is a kind of instinct--a habit one gets into,
+like any other exclamation."
+
+"I think not," said the old man. "I believe that in your inmost, soul is
+a conviction that there is a God. Don't you remember hearing that
+Voltaire, with almost his last breath, said, 'Et pourtant, il y a un
+Dieu!'"
+
+Returning on deck, Mr. Cameron took his watch beside the young
+Highlander. There was no return of consciousness, and very soon the
+happy spirit freed itself from its earthly tenement without a struggle.
+
+Next morning they consigned all that was mortal of him to the deep, in
+sure and certain hope that he shall rise again. God knows where to find
+His own, whether in the quiet leafy "God's acre," or in the depths of
+the sea.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The year was advancing. It was towards the end of February. At Gibraltar
+great excitement prevailed in the house perched on the side of the
+"Rock." Major Somerset and his wife were expected! Norah paused suddenly
+to look out over the blue expanse of sea, to-day ruffled with a slight
+breeze--and then exclaimed:
+
+"Children! children! come, a steamer with the British flag is coming in!
+Hurry and get on your things."
+
+There was no need for urging them to haste--the outdoor wrappings were
+on in no time, and they ran down to the landing-stage just as the ship
+had cast anchor. Numerous boats were already making their way out to
+her. They soon learnt that the ship was from Malta, though she was not
+the _Minerva_ they had expected.
+
+How Norah's heart beat as she eagerly, breathlessly, watched the
+passengers descend the ladder and take their places in the different
+boats. A keen breeze had got up, and even in the harbour there were
+waves already.
+
+[Sidenote: "There is Mamma!"]
+
+"There is mamma!" exclaimed little Ethel--"see her, Nory, in the white
+hat! Oh, my pretty mamma!" she exclaimed, dancing with glee as the boat
+came nearer and nearer.
+
+Then came exclamations, hugs and kisses, intermingled with the quick
+vivacious chattering of the boatmen bargaining over their fares. A
+perfect Babel of sound! Several passengers were landing--so a harvest
+was being reaped by these small craft.
+
+The children clung to their parents, and Norah followed behind, feeling
+a little lonely, and out of it all--would there ever come a time of joy
+for her--a time when she too would be welcoming a dear one?--or should
+she just have to go on living the life of an outsider in other people's
+lives--having no joys or sorrows of her own, she who might have been so
+blessed and so happy? How long those five years had seemed, a lifetime
+in themselves, since she had last heard her husband's voice! Well, he
+had not come, that was clear.
+
+That evening as Norah was preparing to go to bed, a knock came to her
+door, and Mrs. Somerset came in.
+
+"I thought I might come in, Norah dear; I wanted to tell you how pleased
+my husband and I are with the improvement in the children, they look so
+well, and are so much more obedient. You have managed them very well,
+and we are very grateful," and Mrs. Somerset bent forward and kissed
+her. "Now, dear, we want you to accept a small present from us--it is
+very commonplace--but there is little variety where we are stationed."
+
+Norah undid the cedar box put into her hand and drew out a most lovely
+gold bracelet of Indian workmanship.
+
+"Oh, how very good of you, it is far too pretty!" she exclaimed,
+returning Mrs. Somerset's embrace. "But, indeed, I have only done my
+duty by the children: they are very good, and I love them dearly."
+
+"Well, dear, I hope you will long remain with them--and yet--I cannot
+wish it for your sake, for I wish a greater happiness for you. You
+remember when you first came to me, telling me your history, Norah, and
+begging me never to refer to it? Well, I have never done so, but
+to-night I must break my promise, as I think I ought to tell you that I
+have actually met Captain Wylie, though he did not know who I was."
+
+Norah's colour came and went; she said nothing, only fixed her eyes on
+Mrs. Somerset in speechless attention, while a tremor ran through her
+being.
+
+"Now, dear, listen to me; I believe you will see him in Gibraltar very
+soon. You know we were to have come here in the _Minerva_, which is
+actually in port in Malta now, but as she is detained there for some
+slight repairs, we did not wait for her. I went on board the _Minerva_
+with my husband, who had business with the captain--and there he was.
+The captain introduced us. When he heard I was a native of the 'Rock,'
+he became quite eager, and asked me many questions about the different
+families living there, and told me he intended staying a few days here
+on his way to England. He was standing looking so sad when we came on
+board, looking out to sea, and he brightened up so when he spoke of
+Gibraltar. But, dear child, don't cry, you should rejoice."
+
+For Norah had broken down and was weeping bitterly, uncontrollably. She
+could not speak, she only raised Mrs. Somerset's hand to her lips. The
+latter saw she was best alone, and was wise enough to leave her.
+
+"Oh Edgar! Edgar!" was the cry of her heart. "Shall I ever really see
+you? Can you forgive me?"
+
+Just about the same time as Norah Wylie was weeping in her room, her
+heart torn asunder with hopes and fears, her husband was again pacing
+the deck of the _Minerva_. They had sailed from Malta the previous day,
+but owing to fogs, which had checked their progress, were hardly out of
+sight of land.
+
+Captain Wylie's thoughts as he passed up and down were evidently of a
+serious nature. For the first time in his life he had began to think
+seriously of religious things. Ever since the death of the young
+Highlander, Kenneth McGregor, he had had deep heart-searchings. Besides,
+another event had occurred that had cast a shadow over the whole ship,
+so sudden and so awful had it been.
+
+[Sidenote: "In Spite of the Doctor"]
+
+Mr. Grossman had made a wonderful recovery. Contrary to all
+explanations, he was apparently almost well. It was his constant boast
+that he had recovered "in spite of the doctor."
+
+One evening dinner was going on, and Herr Grossman, who was still on
+diet, and did not take all the courses, got up and declared that he
+would go on deck. It was misty and raining a little. He sent for his
+great coat and umbrella, and as his valet helped him on with his coat,
+the doctor called out to him:
+
+"Don't stay up long in the damp."
+
+"Oh, I'll be down directly," he had answered. "I've no wish to lay
+myself up again."
+
+The company at table fell into talk, and it was some time before they
+dispersed.
+
+"It is time Mr. Grossman was down," said the doctor; "did you see him,
+steward?"
+
+"I saw him near an hour ago, sir, he stopped on his way up to light his
+cigar at the tinder lamp on the stairs."
+
+The doctor went up, but no Herr Grossman was to be seen. He and others
+hunted all over the ship. At last a sort of panic prevailed. Where was
+he? What had happened? The ship was stopped and boats lowered. Captain
+Wylie was one of those who volunteered to go with the search party.
+Clouds of mist hung over the sea, and although lanterns were held aloft,
+nothing was visible.
+
+The search was in vain. No one ever knew precisely what had happened,
+nor would know. Whether a sudden giddiness seized him, or whether he
+leaned too far forward, misled by the fog which makes things look so
+different; certain it is that he had disappeared--not even his umbrella
+was found.
+
+No one slept that night; a great awe had settled down over the whole
+ship.
+
+The next day a furious gale sprang up. Captain Wylie, who was an old
+sailor, crawled up on deck; he was used to roughing it, and the waves
+dashing over him as they swept the deck had an invigorating effect.
+
+"We ought to be in this afternoon," shouted the captain, as he passed,
+"but the propeller has come to grief; you see we are not moving, and
+hard enough it will be to fix the other in in such weather," and he
+looked anxiously around. The wind almost blew his words away.
+
+Captain Wylie then perceived that they were in the trough of the sea,
+helplessly tossed about, while the waves were mounting high, and any
+moment the engine fires might be extinguished. Should that happen,
+indeed they would be in a bad strait.
+
+With difficulty he made his way to where the men were vainly trying to
+fix the monster screw. Each time they thought they had it in place, the
+heavy sea shifted it, and the men were knocked down in their attempts.
+Captain Wylie willingly gave a hand, and after a long time, so it seemed
+to the weary men, the screw was in its place, and doing its work.
+
+The brave ship battled on. Already in the far distance the great "Rock"
+was visible, and the young soldier's heart turned passionately to her
+whom he loved.
+
+And now a fresh disaster had arisen; the steam steering-gear had come to
+grief, and the old, long-neglected wheel had to be brought into use. It
+had not been used for years, and though constantly cleaned and kept in
+order, the salt water had been washing over it now for hours, and it was
+very hard to turn. The question now was, should they remain in the open
+sea, or venture into the harbour?
+
+A discussion on the subject was taking place between the captain and the
+first mate. The steering-gear did not seem to do its work properly, and
+the captain anxiously kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, as they were
+drawn irresistibly nearer and nearer to the harbour. "It is the
+men-of-war I dread coming near," the captain was saying to his mates;
+"those deadly rams are a terror in this weather."
+
+[Sidenote: A Critical Moment]
+
+It was a critical moment. Darkness was coming down, the rain became more
+violent, the wind cold and cutting, with now and then fierce showers of
+hail.
+
+On, on they were being driven; nothing could keep them back. The captain
+shouted orders, the men did their best, but the wheel did not work
+properly. Captain Wylie as he stood near, holding on while the waves
+dashed over him, saw the lights twinkling in the town, and felt that the
+cup of happiness so near might now at any moment be dashed from his
+lips.
+
+The danger was clear to all, nearer and nearer they drew. "Out with the
+life-belts!" shouted the captain; "lower the boats!"
+
+There was no time to be lost, faster and faster they were being driven
+into the harbour.
+
+Captain Wylie rushed downstairs; and here confusion and terror reigned,
+for bad news travels fast, and a panic had seized the poor fellows who
+were still weak from recent illness. They were dragging themselves out
+of their berths.
+
+"Get her ready, here are two belts," he cried, and, throwing them to Mr.
+Cameron, he hurried to the assistance of the invalids. All were soon
+provided with belts. A wonderful calm succeeded to the confusion, and
+great self-control was exercised.
+
+"Courage!" cried the young soldier; "remember we are close to shore. If
+you can keep your heads above water you will speedily be rescued." The
+one frail woman was as calm as any.
+
+It came at last! A crash, a gurgling sound of rushing water, a ripping,
+rasping noise.
+
+"Up on deck," shouted Captain Wylie, as seizing the one helpless invalid
+in his arms, he hastened on deck. An awful scene met the eye. What the
+ship's captain feared had indeed come true!
+
+The boats were soon freighted and pushed off.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+While this terrible scene was taking place, anxious eyes were taking it
+all in from the shore.
+
+Early that day the _Minerva_ had been signalled, and Norah with her
+heart in her mouth had watched almost all day from the veranda, scanning
+the sea with a pair of binoculars. Mrs. Somerset kept the children
+entirely, knowing well what her poor young governess was going through.
+
+[Sidenote: A Weary Night]
+
+The storm had raged fiercely all day, but as night came on it grew
+worse. Norah could remain no longer in the house, and had gone down to
+the quay. As she reached it she saw a large ship driving furiously
+forward to its doom. There she stood as though turned to stone, and was
+not aware of a voice speaking in her ear, and a hand drawing her away.
+
+"This is no place for you, Mrs. Wylie; my wife sent me for you. You can
+do no good here; you will learn what there is to learn quicker at
+home--one can't believe a word they say."
+
+Her agony was too great for words or tears. She had gone through so much
+all those years, and now happiness had seemed so near, she had believed
+it might even yet be in store for her since Mrs. Somerset had spoken to
+her on the subject, and now? . . . She let herself be led into the house,
+and when Mrs. Somerset ran to meet her and clasp her in her arms, it was
+as if she grasped a statue, so cold and lifeless was Norah.
+
+"She is stunned," the major said; "she is exhausted."
+
+Mechanically she let herself be covered up and put on the sofa, her feet
+chafed by kind hands--it gave a vague sense of comfort, though all the
+time she felt as if it were being done to some one else.
+
+And yet had Norah only known, grief would have been turned into
+thanksgiving. Her husband was not dead.
+
+The weary night came to an end at last, as such nights do. Several times
+Mrs. Somerset had crept in. They had been unable to gather any reliable
+news about the _Minerva's_ passengers. The ship had gone down, but
+whether the people had been saved they had been unable as yet to
+ascertain.
+
+A glorious sunrise succeeded a night of storm and terror, and its
+crimson beams came in on Norah. Hastily rising, and throwing on her hat
+and jacket she ran out into the morning freshness longing to feel the
+cool air.
+
+She only wanted to get away from herself.
+
+She climbed the steep ascent up the "Rock," past the governor's house,
+then stood and gazed at this wonderful scene.
+
+And she stood thus, wrapped up in sad thoughts and anticipations of
+evil, a great, great joy lay very near her.
+
+Edgar Wylie had thrown himself into the sea, and lost consciousness from
+the effects of a blow. Several boats had braved the furious sea, and
+come out to save the unfortunate people if possible.
+
+Thus it was that he was picked up, as well as a young fellow he had
+risked his life to save.
+
+When he came to himself, he found he had been brought to the nearest
+hotel, and a doctor was in attendance. There was, however, nothing
+really the matter with him. He had, it is true, been stunned by the
+sharp spar that had come in contact with his head, but no real injury
+had been done.
+
+A good night's rest had restored him to himself. He woke early the
+following morning, and rising went out to breathe the fresh pure air.
+
+Thus it came to pass that the husband and wife were passing each other
+in their morning walk, and they did not know it.
+
+And yet, as his tall figure passed her, a thrill of memory went through
+her, a something in the walk reminded her of her husband.
+
+Both had arrived at the supreme crisis of their lives, and yet they
+might never have met, but for a small incident, and a rather funny one.
+
+Norah had taken off her hat and had laid it carelessly beside her on the
+low wall on which she was leaning, when she became aware of some one
+taking possession of it, and looking round she saw the impudent face of
+a monkey disappearing with it up the steep side of the "Rock."
+
+She had no energy to recover it, and was standing helplessly watching
+his movements when she saw the stranger who had passed her set off in
+pursuit of the truant.
+
+She soon lost sight of him, and had again sunk into a reverie when a
+voice said: "Here is your hat; I have rescued it. I think it is none the
+worse for this adventure."
+
+Oh, that voice! Norah's heart stood still, she was stunned and could not
+believe that she heard aright. Was she dreaming? "The rascal was caught
+by one of the sentries, evidently he is quite at home with them, and the
+soldier on duty coaxed it from him."
+
+Then Norah turned, there was no longer room for doubt, her eyes were
+riveted on the grey ones fixed on her.
+
+[Sidenote: "You are not Dead!"]
+
+"Then you are not dead," was the thought that flashed through her mind.
+Her tongue was dry and parched; her heart, which had seemed to stop,
+bounded forward, as though it must burst its bonds.
+
+"Oh, Edgar!" she cried, losing all self-command; "oh, if it is you,
+forgive me, don't leave me. Don't let me wake and find it a dream!"
+
+A strange whizzing and whirling came over her, and then she felt herself
+held securely by a strong arm and a face was bent to hers. When she
+recovered herself somewhat, she found that she was seated on a bank,
+supported by her husband.
+
+It was his voice that said in the old fond tones: "Oh, Norah, my Norah,
+we are together again, never, never more to part. Forgive me, darling,
+for all I have made you suffer in the past."
+
+"Forgive you! Oh, Edgar! Will you forgive me?"
+
+The sun rose higher, and sounds of everyday life filled the air, drawing
+those two into the practical everyday world, out of the sunny paradise
+in which they had been basking while Norah sat leaning against that
+strong true heart that all these years had beat only for her.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: The story of a simple Irish girl, a sorrow, and a
+disillusion.]
+
+The Queen of Connemara
+
+BY
+
+FLORENCE MOON
+
+
+The mountains of Connemara stretched bare and desolate beneath the
+November sky.
+
+Down the bleak mountain side, with his broad-leaved _caubeen_ (peasant's
+hat) pulled well over his face, tramped a tall young countryman, clad in
+a stout frieze coat. His was an honest face, with broad, square brow,
+eyes of speedwell-blue that looked steadfast and fearless, and a mouth
+and chin expressive both of strength and sweetness.
+
+Dermot O'Malley was the only son of Patrick and Honor O'Malley, who
+dwelt in a little white-washed farmhouse near the foot of the mountain.
+His father tilled a few acres of land--poor stony ground, out of which
+he contrived to keep his family and to save a little besides.
+
+The little patch surrounding the farmhouse was, in its proper season,
+gay with oats and barley, while potatoes and cabbage, the staple food of
+the peasant, flourished in plenty. With such a desirable home, such a
+"likeable" face, and steady, upright character, it was no wonder that
+Dermot O'Malley was the object of much admiration among the people of
+the mountains, and several scheming parents had offered their daughters
+and their "fortunes" to him through the medium of his father, according
+to the custom of the country.
+
+But Dermot resisted all their overtures; his heart, and all the honest
+true love that filled it to overflowing, was given to Eily Joyce, the
+carrier's daughter; for her he would have laid down his strong young
+life.
+
+It was Eily's duty during the summer to take a daily supply of fresh
+eggs from her own hens to the proprietor of the hotel, and every morning
+she presented herself at the door, a bewitching little figure, her
+basket slung on her arm.
+
+Coyly she glanced from beneath her black silky lashes at the little
+group of men who, cigar in hand, loitered about the hotel steps,
+chatting on the chances of sport or the prospects of the weather.
+
+[Sidenote: The Artist's Model]
+
+Beauty like hers could not fail to attract the attention of the artists
+present, and as day after day went by, flattering remarks and
+undisguised admiration did not fail to strike home; attentions from the
+"gentry" were grateful to one who was a born coquette, and Eily's visits
+were gradually prolonged.
+
+Then one of the artists sought to paint her; he was a young fellow,
+rising in his profession, and in quest of a subject for his next Academy
+picture. In Eily he found what he sought, and there, among her own wild
+mountains, he painted her.
+
+Day after day, week after week, Eily stole from her father's little
+cabin to meet the stranger, a downward glance in her dark eyes, a blush
+on her cheek. The handsome face of the artist, his languid manner, his
+admiration of her beauty, his talk about the great world that lay beyond
+those mountains, fascinated and bewildered poor simple Eily, who told
+him in her trusting innocence all the thoughts of her young heart.
+
+So the summer passed by, till at last the picture was completed, and
+Eily heard, with white face and tearful eye, that the painter was going
+away.
+
+Time had passed, and the little world among the mountains went on its
+quiet way, but the summer had left its impress on Eily's heart. No more
+was her laugh the merriest, or her foot the fleetest; she joined neither
+wake nor dance, but her eye wore a far-away, thoughtful look, and her
+manner was cold and somewhat scornful; she looked with contempt on her
+old comrades, and began to pine for a peep at the great world, where she
+would see _him_, and he would welcome her, his beautiful "Queen of
+Connemara," as he had called her.
+
+As though her unspoken words were heard, an opportunity to gratify her
+wishes soon occurred. Her mother's sister, who had married young and
+gone with her husband to England, returned to visit her old home; she
+was a middle-aged, hard-faced woman, with a shrewd eye and cruel heart;
+she had worked hard, and made a little money by keeping a lodging-house
+in the east of London.
+
+London! Eily's heart leapt as she heard the word. Was not that the great
+city _he_ had spoken of, where she would be worshipped for her lovely
+face, and where great lords and ladies would bow down before her beauty?
+
+Shyly, but with determination, she expressed her desire to go there with
+her aunt. Well-pleased, Mrs. Murphy consented to take her, inwardly
+gloating over her good luck, for she saw that Eily was neat and handy,
+and had the "makings" of a good servant. It would enable her to save the
+wages of her present drudge, and a girl who had no friends near to
+"mither" her could be made to perform wonders in the way of work.
+
+So a day was fixed for their departure, and Eily's eyes regained their
+old sparkle, her spirits their wonted elasticity.
+
+Without a regret or fear she was leaving the little cabin in which she
+was born, her whole heart full of rapture that she was going to see
+_him_, and of the joy he would experience at the sight of her. Small
+wonder, then, was it that Dermot sighed as he walked homeward that bleak
+November day, for his heart was well-nigh broken at the thought of
+parting from the girl he loved.
+
+As he rounded the shoulder of the mountain the clouds parted, and a
+shaft of bright sunlight lit up his path. Dermot looked eagerly before
+him. There was Eily standing outside the cabin door, bare-footed,
+bare-headed. Cocks and hens strutted in and out of the thatched cottage,
+a pig was sniffing at a heap of cabbage-leaves that lay on the ground,
+and a black, three-legged pot, the chief culinary utensil in a peasant's
+cot, stood just outside the doorway. Eily was busy knitting, and
+pretended not to see the tall form of her lover until he drew near, then
+she looked up suddenly and smiled.
+
+"Is it knitting y'are, Eily? Shure it's the lucky fellow he'll be
+that'll wear the socks those fairy hands have made!"
+
+"Is it flattherin' me y'are, Dermot? because if so ye may go away!
+Shure, 'tis all the blarney the bhoys does be givin' me is dhrivin' me
+away from me home. Maybe ye'll get sinse whin I lave ye all, as I will
+to-morrow!"
+
+[Sidenote: "Will ye Stay?"]
+
+"Oh, Eily, jewil, don't say that! don't!" he pleaded, his blue eyes
+looking earnestly into hers. "Whin ye go, you will take all the sunshine
+out of me poor heart; it's to Ameriky I will go, for nothin' will be the
+same to me without you, mavourneen! Eily, Eily, will ye stay?"
+
+But Eily was firm.
+
+"Faith, thin, I will not, Dermot! I'm weary of my life here; I want to
+see London and the world. Shure, I'll come back some day with gold of me
+own, a rale lady, for all the world like the gintry at the castle
+below."
+
+He took her hands for a moment and wrung them in his, then, with a look
+of dumb agony in his blue eyes, turned his back upon her and continued
+his way down the mountain side.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+London! was this indeed London, the goal of all her hopes, the place
+where _he_ lived, and moved, and had his being?
+
+[Illustration: EILY STOOD A FORLORN DESOLATE FIGURE ON EUSTON PLATFORM.]
+
+Eily stood, a forlorn, desolate figure, among the crowds that jostled
+each other carelessly on Euston platform. The pretty face that peeped
+from the folds of a thick woollen shawl looked tired after the long
+journey, and her feet--oh, how they ached! for they were unaccustomed to
+the pressure of the heavy, clumsy boots in which they were now encased.
+
+What a crowd of people, and how "quare" the talk sounded! How grandly
+they were all dressed! not one with a red petticoat like the new one she
+had been so proud of only yesterday morning; she glanced at it now with
+contempt, deciding to discard it before she had been another day in
+London.
+
+There was a girl sitting on her box not far from Eily; she was evidently
+waiting for some one to fetch her. Eily eyed her garments with envy;
+they were of dazzling crimson, plentifully besprinkled with jet; she
+wore a large hat trimmed with roses; a "diamond" brooch fastened her
+neck-ribbon, and a "golden" chain fell from neck to waist; but what Eily
+liked best of all was the thick, black fringe that covered her forehead;
+such "style" the simple peasant had never before beheld; if only her
+aunt would be generous she would buy just such a dress as that, but
+whether or not, the fringe could be had for nothing, and _he_ should see
+that she could be as genteel as any one else, he need never be ashamed
+of her.
+
+Her plans and projects were alike cut short by her aunt, who, hot and
+excited after a wordy war with porters and cabmen, ran breathlessly
+along the platform.
+
+"Make haste, Eily! how long are you goin' to stand there staring like a
+sick owl? Hurry up, child; the cabman will be for charging me overtime
+if you're so slow, and it's bad enough to have to pay ordinary fare all
+that way."
+
+Eily took up the little tin box that held all her worldly possessions,
+and followed her aunt to the cab like one in some horrible dream. The
+fog, the crowds, the noises, the strangeness of everything! With a chill
+at her warm young heart she took her seat in the cab, and was driven
+swiftly through the streets. The fog was lifting slightly; she could see
+the houses and buildings stretching as far as eyes could follow them;
+houses everywhere, people everywhere; men, women, and children hurrying
+along the pavements; cabs and carts rolling unceasingly.
+
+[Sidenote: "Is there a Fair To-day?"]
+
+"Is there a fair to-day?" she asked her aunt, who was sitting opposite
+with closed eyes.
+
+"Fair? Simpleton! it's this way every day, only worse, because this is
+early morning, and there's only a few about yet;" and Mrs. Murphy's eyes
+closed again.
+
+The cab rattled along, the streets became narrow and unsavoury, but Eily
+knew no difference; it was all grand to her unsophisticated eyes; the
+little shops, with lights that flared dismally in their untidy windows,
+caused her much excitement and speculation.
+
+At last the cab drew up, and her aunt awoke from her nap in a bad
+temper.
+
+"Get my things together, quick, and don't dawdle; we're at home now, and
+you will have to set about your work!"
+
+Eily gathered together bags and boxes and set them down upon the
+pavement, while her aunt haggled with the driver in a spirited manner;
+the man went off, grumbling at the meanness of a "couple o' Hirishers,"
+but Eily, not understanding the English manner of using the aspirate,
+was blissfully unconscious of his meaning.
+
+The house door opened, and an elderly man, looking cowed and humble,
+shuffled out to meet them.
+
+"We've come at last!" cried out her aunt in a loud voice; "it's the last
+time I'll take the trouble to visit my folks! What the better am I for
+all the money I've spent on the trip? Better, indeed! A good deal worse
+_I_ should say! Take in the box, William! what are you stopping for?"
+she demanded angrily.
+
+"Oh, nothing, nothing, my dear! I'll take the box in at once,
+certainly!" The old man hurried to do his wife's bidding, and entered
+the squalid house. Eily followed with her parcels, and stood in doubt as
+to what her next proceedings should be, while her aunt bustled away
+somewhere, on food intent.
+
+The old man, having obediently deposited the box in the region of
+upstairs, shuffled down again, and approached Eily gently. "Are you her
+niece, my poor girl?" he whispered, with a backward glance in the
+direction of his departed spouse.
+
+"I am, sorr," answered Eily; "I am come to help me aunt wid the claning
+and the lodgers."
+
+"Poor child! poor child! I was afraid so," he murmured, shaking his head
+dolefully; "but, look here, don't notice her tempers and her tantrums,
+her carries on fearful sometimes, but least said soonest mended, and if
+you want to please her keep a still tongue in your head; I've learnt to
+do it, and it pays best. If ever you want a friend your uncle William
+will stand by you; now, not a word, not a word!" and he shuffled
+noiselessly away as loud footsteps drew near, and Mrs. Murphy appeared
+on the scene.
+
+"Now then, girl, come downstairs and set to work; the fire's black out,
+and not a drop o' water to be had! It's like him; he's got a brain like
+a sieve"--pointing to her husband, "and here am I nigh dying of thirst.
+Drat that bell!" she exclaimed, as a loud peal from upstairs sounded in
+the passage.
+
+William lit the fire, boiled the kettle, and frizzled the bacon, his
+wife sitting by criticising the work of his hands, and warming her
+elastic-sided boots at the fire. She ate her breakfast in silence, and
+then remembered Eily, who was sitting on the stairs, hungry, forlorn,
+and desolate, the tears running down her cheeks.
+
+"Come, girl, get your tea!" she called, as she replenished the pot from
+the kettle; "here's bread for you, better than that rubbishy stuff your
+mother makes; such bread as that I never see, it's that heavy it lies on
+your chest like a mill-stone."
+
+Eily took the slice of bread offered her and gnawed it hungrily; she had
+tasted nothing since the previous evening, as her aunt objected to waste
+money on "them swindling refreshment rooms," and the stock of bread and
+cakes her mother had given her was soon exhausted.
+
+"Now, girl, if you start crying you'll find you make a great mistake. I
+brought you here to work, and work you must! Fie, for shame! an ignorant
+country girl like you should be thankful for such a start in life as you
+are getting."
+
+"I'm not ignorant," Eily answered with spirit, "and it's yourself that
+knows it!"
+
+[Sidenote: "Do what you're Told!"]
+
+"Then get up and wash that there delf--don't give me any imperence, or
+you'll find yourself in the street; there's others better than you I've
+turned away, and the work'us has been their end--so mind your business,
+and do what you're told!" With this parting injunction Mrs. Murphy left
+the kitchen.
+
+The winter passed--cold, foggy, murky, miserable winter. Eily was
+transformed. No longer bright, sparkling, and gay, but pale, listless,
+and weary--the veriest drudge that ever lived under an iron rule. A
+thick black fringe adorned her forehead, her ears were bedecked with
+gaudy rings, and her waist squeezed into half its ordinary size; her
+clothes, bought cheaply at a second-hand shop, were tawdry and
+ill-fitting, yet they were her only pleasure; she watched herself
+gradually developing into a "fine lady" with a satisfaction and
+excitement that alone kept her from giving way altogether.
+
+Her heart was still aching for a sight of her lover, and many a time
+when her aunt was out she neglected tasks that she might sit at the
+parlour window and watch with feverish expectancy for the owner of the
+fair moustache and languid manner that had so completely taken her
+fancy; but he never came, and she rose from her vigils with a sore
+heart.
+
+Two friends she had; two who never spoke roughly, nor upbraided her.
+"Uncle William," himself cowed and subdued, stood first. Sometimes, when
+the lady of the house became unbearable, and poor Eily's head ached with
+all the tears she shed, he would take her in the cool of the evening
+away to a large green park, where the wind blew fresh, the dew sparkled
+on the grass, and the noisy traffic of the streets was still; there she
+would rest her weary body, while the old man soothed her gently and
+stroked her poor hands, all chapped and red with hard work.
+
+Eily's other friend was a lady who occupied a single top room in her
+aunt's tall house. She was a gentle, white-haired woman, with faded blue
+eyes and a sweet smile. She had won Eily's heart from the first by the
+soft, kindly tones of her voice, and the consideration she showed for
+the severely-tried feet of the little Irish maid. Mrs. Grey taught
+drawing and painting; her pupils were few, her terms low; it was a
+difficult matter to make both ends meet, but she managed it by careful
+contriving, and sometimes had enough to treat her waiting-maid to a
+morsel of something savoury cooked on her own little stove.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was May. Eily was standing at the window while Mrs. Murphy went forth
+on a bargain-hunting expedition.
+
+"Eily, come upstairs, child; I have something to show you." Mrs. Grey
+was in the room, looking flushed and excited; she was flourishing a book
+in her hand. Eily's heart beat rapidly as she ascended the steep
+staircase in the wake of her friend. Was it possible she could have
+news of _him_? Then she shook her head, for Mrs. Grey was not in her
+secret.
+
+They entered the neat little room at the top of the stairs. Mrs. Grey,
+walking to the table, never pausing to unfasten her bonnet-strings or to
+unbutton her gloves, opened the book and laid it on the table,
+exclaiming in triumph, "There you are to the life, Eily! See! it is the
+picture of the year, and is called 'The Queen of Connemara.'"
+
+A girl with eyes half-defiant, half-coquettish, lips demure and smiling,
+hair tied loosely in a knot at the back of her proudly-set head, was
+leaning against the white-washed wall of a thatched cabin--ah! it was
+Dermot's own! Eily noted the geraniums in the little blue box that he
+had tended himself.
+
+Eily's heart leapt, and then was still; there were her two bare feet
+peeping from beneath her thick red petticoat, just as they used in the
+olden times, and there was the blue-checked apron she had long ago
+discarded. With face now white, now red, she gazed at the picture, then
+spelt out its title, "The Queen of Connemara," painted by Leslie
+Hamilton.
+
+"Arrah, 'tis Misther Hamilton himself! 'twas he painted me!" she cried
+breathlessly, and sank into a chair completely overcome.
+
+"Then, Eily, you are a lucky girl! Every one in London is talking about
+'The Queen of Connemara,' and this Hamilton has made his name and
+fortune by your picture. Well, well! no wonder you are surprised! Here
+is the artist's portrait; do you remember him?" She turned over a few
+leaves of the book and pushed it towards Eily.
+
+[Sidenote: "At Last!"]
+
+Did Eily remember him? Ay, indeed! There were the clear blue eyes, the
+straight nose, the drooping moustache. Eily snatched up the book
+eagerly, "Misther Hamilton! at last! at last!" With a great sob her head
+fell forward on the table, and Mrs. Grey guessed the young girl's
+secret.
+
+Leslie Hamilton, R.A., was entertaining. In the middle of a smart crowd
+of society people he stood, the lion of the season. "The Queen of
+Connemara" had made him name and fame. He was smiling on all, as well he
+might, for his name was in every one's mouth.
+
+Standing about the studio, chattering gaily, or lounging idly, the
+guests of Leslie Hamilton were admiring everything while they sipped tea
+out of delicate S�vres cups. The artist himself was busy, yet his
+attention was chiefly directed to a beautiful young girl who sat on a
+velvet lounge, a tiny lap-dog on her knee. She was tall and dignified in
+mien, with soft grey eyes and bronze-gold hair, among which the sunlight
+was playing as it stole through a window behind her. She was the beauty
+of the season, and her father's sole heiress. Cold and distant with
+others, she was affable and even kind to Leslie Hamilton, and among her
+friends it was whispered such treatment could only end in one way; and
+though better things had been spoken of for Bee Vandaleur, the wife of
+an R.A. was by no means a position to be despised, and if Bee's fancy
+lay that way, why----! a shrug of its white shoulders, an elevation of
+its pencilled eyebrows, and Society went on its way.
+
+Leslie Hamilton had taken up his position near the door that he might
+easily acknowledge each new arrival. He was leaning over the fair Bee
+Vandaleur, watching the animation in her beautiful face, the grace with
+which she wore her large picture-hat, and the regal manner in which she
+sat. He glanced at the gay throng that filled his rooms, growing gayer
+still as the tinkle of tiny silver spoons increased in number and
+volume; there was not one to compare with Bee, _his_ Bee as he dared, in
+his own mind, to call her already. Gentle, dignified, graceful, always
+sweet and gracious to him, and with an ample fortune of her own, it was
+no wonder the artist felt that she was worth the winning.
+
+"How I should enjoy a peep at your model!" she was saying as she looked
+at a rough sketch he was showing her. "Was she as beautiful as you have
+made her?"
+
+"She was tolerably----" Hamilton hesitated. "Well, of course an artist's
+business is to make the most of good points, and omit the bad. She was a
+little rough and troublesome sometimes, but, on the whole, not a bad
+sitter."
+
+"And her name?" asked Miss Vandaleur.
+
+"Her name? oh, Mary, or Biddy, or Eily Joyce; really I cannot be sure;
+every one in that part of the world is either Eily or Biddy, and Joyce
+is the surname of half the population. She was a vain girl, I assure
+you; no beauty in her first season thought more of herself than did
+she."
+
+"I do not wonder at that," said Bee gently; "there are few women who
+possess beauty to such a marvellous degree. If only your Biddy could
+come to London she would be worshipped by all who were not utterly
+envious."
+
+Just what he had assured Eily himself nine months back, but it is
+inconvenient to remember everything one has said so long ago; we live at
+a pace now, and nine months is quite an epoch in our existence--so many
+things change in nine months!
+
+[Sidenote: A Startling Visitor]
+
+Hamilton smiled; it was rare to hear one beauty acknowledge another. He
+bent his head to make some remark that her ear alone might catch, but as
+he did so a slight stir at the door attracted his attention, and he
+looked up.
+
+The sight that met his gaze froze the smile on his lips; with a start
+which he could scarcely conceal the blood left his cheeks; him face
+became stern and white as death.
+
+There stood Eily herself, behind her the page who did duty at the door.
+The boy was pulling angrily at her sleeve, and an altercation was going
+on.
+
+"Shure 'tis himself will be glad to see me, ye spalpeen! Shame on yez
+to insult a poor girl. Musha, is it Misther Hamilton within and ashamed
+to spake to his Eily!"
+
+One more moment, then within that room in which art, and beauty, and
+refinement were gathered in one harmonious whole, a figure stole shyly.
+
+It was a young girl, gaudily attired in a blue dress; a hat, encircled
+by a long pink feather, crowned a face that was beautiful, were it not
+that it was marred by its many adornments. Gilt earrings glistened in
+the ears, a dark curly fringe covered forehead and eyebrows, and the
+chin was embedded in a tawdry feather boa of a muddy hue. An excited
+flush lay on her cheeks as she looked at the gay crowd within, searching
+for the loved face.
+
+At last a joyful recognition shone in her dark eyes, and forgetful of
+everything and everybody, she rushed across the polished floor to the
+horror-stricken artist.
+
+"Ah, Misther Hamilton, acushla! shure it's your own Eily has found yez
+at last!" She caught the artist's hand in her own impulsively--"Arrah,
+but it's the wide world I have searched, and I've found yez at last!"
+
+Silence had fallen on that part of the room where this little
+_contretemps_ was taking place. Hamilton saw the looks of wonderment on
+his guests' faces change into an amused smile as the little comedy
+progressed.
+
+The girl was looking earnestly at him.
+
+"Shure, you do not forget your own Eily--the girl you made into the
+picthur, your colleen oge! But maybe it's the jiwils and the clothes
+that has changed me; it's mighty grand they make me, to be sure, but it
+was so you should not be ashamed of me I put them on. Arrah, shpake to
+me, and let me hear the sound of your voice!"
+
+She looked pleadingly into his eyes, but he was speechless. At last by a
+mighty effort he turned with a sickly smile to some of his guests--
+
+"Here is the original of 'The Queen of Connemara'--scarcely
+recognisable in her new clothes, is she? Why, Eily, my child," with a
+paternal air, "whatever brought you here to London?"
+
+It was an unwise question; the answer was plain enough.
+
+"Faith, thin, 'twas yourself, Misther Hamilton! You promised to come
+back to me, and said you would make me the finest lady in the land; and
+I waited, but faix, I got sick and sore, so I came to find yez, and it's
+well-nigh at death's door I was till I heard of yez and found where ye
+live--and musha, but it's a grand place, God bless it!"
+
+Eily was looking around her now at the beautiful room, the lovely women,
+their smart attire, and shyness seized her; she hung her head in dismay;
+every one in the room was pressing forward to see the girl whom Hamilton
+had immortalised, and comments on her appearance passed from lip to lip.
+
+"Stand there, Eily," said Hamilton kindly, placing her on a low stool
+that stood near. The game should be played out now.
+
+The crowd pressed around eagerly, delighted and curious.
+
+[Sidenote: A Pleasant Surprise!]
+
+"What a pleasant surprise you have prepared for us, dear Mr. Hamilton!
+quite unprepared, I assure you! but ah, how you artists idealise to be
+sure! who but genius itself could find anything picturesque under so
+much glitter and vulgarity?" and so on and so on, until Eily's blushing
+face grew paler and paler.
+
+"Now, Eily, you may go; the ladies and gentlemen have looked at you long
+enough. Here is something to buy a new gown and bonnet," and Leslie
+Hamilton, with a patronising smile, put some gold into her hand.
+
+"How kind and considerate!" murmured the highborn dames as they turned
+away.
+
+He escorted the girl to the door, and drew aside the _porti�re_
+courteously, but his face became livid with rage as he spoke in a low,
+stern voice, "Go, girl! never dare to come here again--if you do, I
+swear I will call the police!"
+
+He closed the door after her retreating figure, and turned with a smile
+to the company; his eyes sought those of beautiful Bee Vandaleur, but
+she had gone.
+
+Outside in the busy street Eily stood, leaning for support against a
+stone pillar. She heard nothing, saw nothing. A mist swam before her
+eyes; she was dumb with shame and disappointment; her face, a moment
+before so eager, was pale as death, and deep sobs that came from her
+very soul shook her poor body. She clenched the gold in her hands, and
+then with a bitter, passionate cry threw it into the street, and watched
+while two street-urchins picked it up and ran off with their
+treasure-trove.
+
+"May I help you, my poor girl? Are you in trouble?" Bee Vandaleur spoke
+gently and softly; she had heard all that passed between the artist and
+his model.
+
+Eily looked up. "Oh, me lady, God bless ye! but I'm past the helping
+now! I loved him, I would have died to save him from a minute's sorrow,
+and he threatened the police on me!"
+
+"Come with me; I will take care of you, and you shall tell me all." Miss
+Vandaleur hailed a passing hansom and jumped in, followed by Eily,
+white, shivering, and limp. "Now tell me all," she said, as they were
+driven at a rapid pace through the streets. Eily, won by her gentleness,
+told her the pitiful story of her love; told her of her simple mountain
+home, of the handsome stranger who had promised to return and carry her
+to a land where she would be fairest of the fair; told it with dry eyes
+and white set lips, while her heart was breaking and her temples beat,
+beat, beat, like sledge-hammers beneath the weight of the fringe with
+which she had thought to please him.
+
+Miss Vandaleur heard all, and made no sign, save that her lips tightened
+now and then, and an expression of pain stole into her soft grey eyes.
+
+It was a pathetic story, and the rich girl was touched as she listened
+to the poor simple one at her side. "Where do you live, Eily?" she
+asked, as the girl stopped speaking, and lay back with closed eyes.
+
+"At me aunt's, your honour, but I won't go back! shure, I cannot! Oh, me
+lady, let me go; it's not for the likes of me to be keeping your
+ladyship away from her grand friends. God's blessing upon ye for your
+kindness to a poor girl!"
+
+Bee was silent, wondering what she could do with the unhappy creature
+beside her; presently a bright thought struck her.
+
+"I am looking out for a girl who will attend on me, Eily; do you think
+you would like the place if you are taught?"
+
+[Sidenote: "An Angel from Heaven!"]
+
+"Arrah, me lady, me lady! it's an angel from heaven ye are!" cried Eily
+gratefully, but her head sank back again, till the gaudy pink feather in
+her hat was spoilt for ever.
+
+That night Eily was taken to hospital. Brain fever set in, and the
+doctors and nurses feared the worst.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Bee Vandaleur sat in her boudoir thinking. Her pretty brow was puckered
+as she gazed at the photograph of a young man, tall, fair, and handsome.
+For some time she cogitated, then, setting her lips together, she tore
+the card straight across, dropped it into the waste-paper basket beside
+her, and shrugged her pretty shoulders, exclaiming in a tone more
+forcible than polite, "Brute!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Leslie Hamilton stood outside the door of Mr. Vandaleur's handsome town
+residence. The footman, gorgeously attired, opened the heavy door.
+
+"Not at 'ome, sir," he answered pompously in answer to inquiries.
+
+"My good man, you have made some mistake; I am Leslie Hamilton, and I
+wish to see Miss Vandaleur."
+
+"Very sorry, sir, no mistake, sir; Miss Vandaleur is not at 'ome!" and
+the door closed in the face of the astonished artist.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was June in Connemara. Where else is the month of roses half as
+lovely? where does the sky show bluer, or the grass greener? and where
+is the air so clear and cool and fragrant, or the lakes half as still
+and azure as in that blessed country?
+
+The sun rode high in the sky, monarch of all, and men smiled as they
+went about their daily toil, and thanked the good God who was sending
+them favourable weather. Here and there, dotted about the hillsides, the
+tiny white-washed cabins were full of life; the cocks crowed proudly as
+they strutted in and out among their plump, sleek wives; the useful ass
+brayed loudly, roaming about field and lane in enjoyment of a leisure
+hour; the men were in the fields, cutting the sweet-scented grass, and
+the women busied themselves about the midday meal, while babies, with
+dirty faces and naked feet, tumbled about among the wandering pigs and
+quacking ducks in blissful content.
+
+Along the white road that bordered the lake a cart was jolting slowly
+along; it was painted in a startling shade of blue, with shafts of
+brightest red that projected both back and front; upon it was arranged,
+with neatness and precision, a load of turf just cut from the bog; on
+one side, painted black, that all who run might read, was the name of
+"Patrick O'Malley" in crude lettering, and Patrick himself, in working
+dress of coarse cream homespun, walked beside his slow-going jennet,
+idly smoking his tin-topped pipe. From time to time he drew from his
+trouser pocket a letter, which he fingered with respect, gazing at it
+with profoundest wonder.
+
+"Shure, 'tis the grandest and the natest letther ever seen, and the
+ilegant picthur on the back! Musha, musha, 'tis not the likes o' that
+comes to Biddy Joyce ivery day, no, nor to no one else neither in these
+parts! It minds me of a letther her ladyship at the castle aksed me to
+take to the posht, and her in a hurry; begob, but the paper's thick and
+good entoirely!" and he rubbed it softly between his finger and thumb.
+"Shure 'tis from London itself, and maybe the one as wrote it is some
+friend o' Eily's. Ah, but it's she is the foolish one that she did not
+take the boy! it's long ere she'll find another such a match again, and
+him with cattle and sheep and pigs o' his own, a house that many a girl
+would be wild for to get, and maybe--maybe--a bit laid by for a rainy
+day into the bargain!"
+
+[Sidenote: "Too Good for Her!"]
+
+The jennet jogged slowly on as Patrick soliloquised. "The poor lad, but
+it makes me heart ache to see him so low-like, setting so quiet in the
+house, and him thinking, thinking all the blessed while, and never a
+word out o' his mouth to complain. He's a rale good lad, and it's sorry
+I am that he should take on so bad, and all for the sake o' a pair o'
+bright eyes! To see him when Biddy Joyce was sick and Mike got laid up
+with rheumatics; who was it minded the cattle, and fed the pigs, and sat
+early and late 'tending on the pair o' thim but Dermot! It's mighty high
+the girl is, with her talk o' the gintry and the ilegant places she seen
+in London, and never a mintion o' his name in all her letthers, the
+foolish craythur! it's too good the bhoy is for the likes o' her!" The
+old man was beginning to wax indignant over his son's unfavoured suit
+when a voice, rich and strong, called to him across the loose stone wall
+that divided the road from the fields.
+
+"Any news going down Lissough way, father?" It was Dermot, who had
+stopped for a moment in his task of cutting down the long grass.
+
+"Arrah, phwat news is it likely an old man like me should bring? You ask
+me so eager-like that I misdoubt me but it's some colleen that's caught
+your eye!" Patrick's eyes twinkled merrily as he made his little joke.
+Dermot's face saddened, and he turned to his scythe once more.
+
+His father, sorry that he had brought back the cloud once more to his
+son's face, pulled the letter from his pocket and laid it on the wall.
+
+"Now, there's for yez! as lovely a letther as ever you seen, all the way
+from London, with a little picthur of an agle on the back o' it! 'Tis
+for Biddy Joyce, and maybe ye'll take it, Dermot, seeing your legs is
+younger than mine?"
+
+Dermot was off already, climbing the mountain slopes in hot haste.
+
+Biddy Joyce stood watching him from the door where Eily and he had
+parted months before.
+
+"The poor fellow! it's like me own son he has been all this time, so
+kind when the sickness took hould o' Mike and me! It's meself that
+wishes he could forget me daughter, for it's poor comfort she will ever
+be to him. Faith, thin, Dermot," she exclaimed, as he came towards her,
+"phwat is it at all at all that ye come hurrying like this when the sun
+is warm enough to kill a body? Come inside, lad, and taste a sup o' me
+nice, sweet butther-milk; shure the churn's just done, though the
+butther's too soft entoirely"--she shook her head sadly.
+
+"A letther!" cried Dermot, drawing out the treasured epistle from
+between the folds of his shirt, where he had hastily thrust it, that his
+hands might not soil the creamy paper.
+
+"Thanks be to God!" exclaimed the woman, raising her eyes and hands for
+one moment to heaven. "'Tis long sence she wrote to me, the poor
+darlint, and it's many a time I lie awake and think o' the child all
+alone wid sthrangers not of her own blood. Whisht, boy, but you are
+worse nor meself I make no doubts"--as Dermot snatched the letter from
+her and hastily tore open the envelope. His face was pale with
+excitement and dread, for he feared, with a lover's jealous fear, that
+this was an announcement of Eily's marriage with some of the grand folks
+she had talked about.
+
+"Rade it, Dermot; 'tis long sence I was at school, and the writin's not
+aisy."
+
+Dermot obeyed, and this is the letter he spelt out slowly, with no
+little difficulty and several interruptions--
+
+          "Miss Vandaleur is sorry to tell Mrs. Joyce that
+          her daughter Eily has been suffering from a severe
+          illness; she has been in hospital for three weeks
+          with brain fever, and until a few days ago was
+          unable to give her mother's address. She is now
+          much better, and the doctors hope to allow her to
+          leave soon; she is being taken every care of by
+          friends, but if some one could be spared to come
+          such a long distance to see her, it would be the
+          best thing for the poor girl, as she is always
+          wishing for her home, and seems tired of living in
+          London."
+
+Biddy Joyce was weeping bitterly before the end of the letter, with her
+blue-checked apron held up to her eyes; three or four of the little ones
+had gathered around, staring with wide-open eyes.
+
+[Sidenote: Dermot's Resolve]
+
+Dermot kept up bravely till the last sentence, and then he could stand
+it no longer; he rushed out of the house, down the stony boreen. Eily
+sick and ill! Eily well-nigh at death's door! Eily far away in hospital
+with strange hands to tend her! Poor girl, his love, his darlint! she
+was tired of it all, wishing for home; oh, how his heart yearned for
+her, and he longed to take her in his arms and comfort her.
+
+He wandered aimlessly about the mountain side until his emotion had
+well-nigh subsided, and then he plunged into the Joyces' cabin once
+more.
+
+"Mrs. Joyce, it's to-morrow, early mornin', you and me musht shtart for
+London!"
+
+Biddy looked up quickly. "To-morrow! the bhoy's crazy entoirely! It will
+be a week before I can go. Who will look after the house and the hins,
+and the childer, not forgetting Mike himself? I musht wait till me
+sister comes from Ballinahinch, and thin I will go to the child. She's
+betther, and near well, or the docthors wouldn't be for lettin' her out
+o' hospital, and faith, her aunt, me sisther Delia, will look afther her
+for a bit until I find it convaynient to lave; shure Mike himself will
+write to Eily and tell her I'm coming; that will cheer her heart up, the
+poor sowl."
+
+"Maybe ye are right, Mrs. Joyce." Dermot said no more, but turned slowly
+away.
+
+With a firm step and an air of decision he walked homewards across the
+fields.
+
+"Mother, it's going to London I am," he said as he entered the house;
+"will ye see me clothes is ready, and put me up a bit o' bread? That's
+all I'll trouble ye for."
+
+Honor O'Malley looked at the tall, manly figure of her only son, at the
+frank, proud face, the bright blue eyes, and the firmly-set mouth; the
+exclamation that was on her lips died away.
+
+"God bless ye, me own bhoy!" she cried instead, in a half-smothered
+voice, and bent, down over the hearth to hide the tears that rose to her
+eyes and choked her utterance.
+
+Dermot climbed the ladder that led to the tiny room in the roof where he
+slept; from beneath the mattress he drew a box, which he unlocked
+carefully. A small pile of sovereigns lay at the bottom; he counted them
+carefully, although he knew exactly the sum the little box contained;
+after fingering them almost lovingly for a few moments he transferred
+them to a small canvas bag, which he put in his pocket. "Maybe 'twill
+all be wanted," he exclaimed, with a happy gleam in his eye; "maybe, and
+maybe not, but howsoever it goes, one look at her blessed face will be
+worth it all!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In a pretty, low-ceiled parlour, whose windows looked out upon a
+pleasant garden, lay Eily. The wide, old-fashioned sofa was drawn close
+to an open window, that she might feel the soft, cool air on her cheeks,
+and sniff the fragrance of the mignonette that filled the beds outside.
+It was a very thin face that lay upon the soft down pillow, but a slight
+tinge of pink on her cheeks told of returning health. Her abundant black
+tresses had been ruthlessly shorn away, and tiny curls clustered around
+forehead and neck; her eyes, dark as sloes, were large and thoughtful.
+Two days before she had been removed from the great London hospital, and
+brought by Miss Vandaleur to her father's country-home, where the
+kindliest of white-haired house-keepers watched over her beloved Miss
+Bee's _prot�g�e_, tending her with gentlest care.
+
+"Good-morning, Eily;" Miss Vandaleur, in a simple morning gown of white,
+entered the room.
+
+Eily struggled to her feet. "Good-morning, miss, your honour!"
+
+Bee laughed good-naturedly; it was funny to hear herself addressed by
+such a title.
+
+"Now lie still, Eily, you are not quite strong yet. Tell me, are you
+happy here?"
+
+"Happy! Arrah, it's like heaven, miss; my blessin' and the blessin' of
+God on ye for all your kindness to a poor girl. Shure, but for yourself
+I would have been in me grave this day."
+
+[Sidenote: "Is there no one else?"]
+
+"I am glad you are happy, Eily; but is there no one you would like to
+see, no one from home, I mean? Just say the word; perhaps I can manage
+it," she said slyly.
+
+"Shure there's me mother--maybe me father too; but you could scarce get
+them here, miss--beggin' your honour's pardon," she added hastily.
+
+"Is there no one else, Eily? no one that you think of sometimes--no one
+who was kind to you, and loved you dearly?" Bee was leaning over the wan
+face eagerly, and what she saw for answer was a deep crimson flush that
+covered face, neck, and brow, while tears rolled down the cheeks. Eily
+had been thinking of Dermot continually of late, wishing with all her
+heart that she had not so scorned his love; she had learnt many lessons
+in the quiet watches of the night and the weary hours of weakness
+through which she had passed.
+
+Bee Vandaleur said no more, but patted the dark curls gently. "Don't
+cry, Eily, all will be right soon," and she left the room.
+
+Eily was alone once more.
+
+"Ah, Dermot, Dermot asthore! why was it I trated ye so!" The tears were
+trickling through her fingers, and her heart was aching with
+self-reproach.
+
+"Eily, mavourneen!"
+
+The tear-stained fingers were taken in two big, strong hands, and
+Dermot, with a depth of love in his eyes, bent over the sorrow-stricken
+face and laid a kiss on the quivering lips; not another word was spoken,
+but Dermot's protecting arms were around her, and with her head on the
+heart that throbbed with love and devotion all the past was blotted out,
+all her folly forgotten, and Eily found rest.
+
+In a surprisingly short time Eily regained her health; happiness is the
+best of medicine, and Eily felt she had as much as her heart could hold.
+Looking at Dermot with a lover's eyes she found out all that was noble
+and good in him, and when he asked her to be his wife ere a week had
+flown by she gave a glad consent.
+
+
+Unwin Brothers, Limited, The Gresham Press, Woking and London
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+   Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
+
+   Varied hyphenation retained between different authors' stories.
+
+   Page 4, "Sedgmoor" changed to "Sedgemoor." (in Sedgemoor days)
+
+   Page 30, "Fra�lein" changed to "Fr�ulein." (to be respected
+            Fr�ulein)
+
+   Page 32, same. (Fr�ulein Christina Fasch)
+
+   Page 63, A character named "Robert" appears in a sidenote and
+            one paragraph. In the next paragraph his name is changed
+            to Max. The first two instances have been changed to Max
+            to conform. ([Sidenote: Uncle Max]) and (it was so, Max.)
+
+   List of Illustrations and on Illustration, "MARTIN" changed to
+   "MARTYN" to conform to text. (SELINA MARTYN GAVE)
+
+   Illustration caption, "FIRST-BORN" changed to "FIRSTBORN" to
+   reflect text. (THEIR FIRSTBORN)
+
+   Page 176, "half mended" changed to "half-mended." (was only
+             half-mended)
+
+   Page 240, "Kaffir" changed to "Kafir." (and a Kafir sprang out)
+
+   Page 314, "ever" changed to "over." (throw over the head)
+
+   Page 317, "unbotton" changed to "unbutton." (unbutton her gloves)
+
+   Page 323, sidenote "Good-bye" changed to "Goodbye."
+
+   The story entitled "Poor Jane's Brother" is credited to M. Ling
+   in the table of contents and in the list of authors, but the page
+   on which the story begins lists Marie F. Salton as the author.
+   This discrepancy was retained.
+
+   The illustration labelled "AT THE PICNIC:" seems to go with no
+   story in this text.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMPIRE ANNUAL FOR GIRLS, 1911***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 18661-8.txt or 18661-8.zip *******
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Empire Annual for Girls, 1911, by Various</title>
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Empire Annual for Girls, 1911, by
+Various, Edited by A. R. Buckland</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: The Empire Annual for Girls, 1911</p>
+<p>Author: Various</p>
+<p>Editor: A. R. Buckland</p>
+<p>Release Date: June 23, 2006  [eBook #18661]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMPIRE ANNUAL FOR GIRLS, 1911***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Michael Ciesielski, Emmy,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net/)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Title page">
+<tr><td align='left'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 25px;">
+<img src="images/title1.png" width="25" height="400" alt="Torch" title="Torch" />
+</div></td><td align='left'><h2>1911.</h2>
+
+<h3>:: :: THE :: ::</h3>
+
+<h1>Empire Annual</h1>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">For GIRLS.</span></h2>
+
+<h3>Edited by A. R. BUCKLAND, M.A.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>With Contributions by</div>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Authors">
+<tr><td align='left'>LADY CATHERINE<br /><span style="margin-left: 2em;">MILNES-GASKELL.
+</span>&nbsp; &nbsp;<br />
+Mrs. CREIGHTON.<br />
+Mrs. MACQUOID.<br />
+Mrs. BALFOUR MURPHY.&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;<br />
+Mrs. G. de HORNE VAIZEY.&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;<br />
+A. R. BUCKLAND.&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;<br />
+FRANK ELIAS.<br />
+AGNES GIBERNE.<br /></td><td align='left'>SOMERVILLE GIBNEY.<br />
+EDITH C. KENYON.<br />
+M. E. LONGMORE<br />
+MAUD MADDICK.<br />
+M. B. MANWELL.<br />
+FLORENCE MOON.<br />
+E. B. MOORE.<br />
+MADELINE OYLER.<br />
+HENRY WILLIAMS.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<div class='center'>Etc., etc.</div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class='center'><b>With Coloured Plates<br />and Sixteen Black and<br />White Illustrations.</b></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' /></td><td align='left'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 25px;">
+<img src="images/title1.png" width="25" height="400" alt="Torch" title="Torch" />
+</div></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Title page2">
+<tr><td align='left'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 30px;">
+<img src="images/title2.png" width="30" height="23" alt="Lily" title="Lily" />
+</div></td><td align='center'>
+LONDON:<br />
+4 BOUVERIE STREET, E.C.
+</td><td align='left'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 30px;">
+<img src="images/title2.png" width="30" height="23" alt="Lily" title="Lily" />
+</div></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="bbox">
+<div class="center">UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME<br />
+384 pp. demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with Coloured Plates and<br />
+16 Black and White Illustrations.</div>
+
+<h3>THE EMPIRE ANNUAL FOR BOYS</h3>
+
+<div class="center">Edited by A. R. BUCKLAND, M.A.<br />
+<br />
+With contributions by <span class="smcap">Morley Adams, W. Grinton</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Berry, Tom Bevan, A. W. Cooper, W. S. Douglas,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Frank Elias, Laurence M. Gibson, W. J.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Gordon, F. M. Holmes, Ramsay Guthrie,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">C. H. Irwin, J. B. Knowlton, W. C.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Metcalfe, A. J. H. Moule, Ernest</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Protheroe, Gordon Stables,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">C. E. Tyndale-Biscoe,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">etc., etc.</span></div></div>
+
+<div><br /><a name="race" id="race"></a></div><div class="figcenter" style="width: 244px;">
+<img src="images/1.jpg" width="244" height="400" alt="RACE FOR LIFE." title="RACE FOR LIFE." />
+<span class="caption">RACE FOR LIFE. <a href='#Page_72'><i>See page 72</i></a></span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">page</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>THE CHRISTMAS CHILD</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_9'>9</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Mrs. G. de Horne Vaizey</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>The story of a happy thought, a strange discovery, and a deed of love</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>ANNA</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_22'>22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Macquoid</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A girl's adventure for a father's sake</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>TO GIRLS OF THE EMPIRE</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_39'>39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Creighton</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Words of encouragement and stimulus to the daughters of the Nation</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>MY DANGEROUS MANIAC</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_45'>45</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Leslie M. Oyler</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>The singular adventure of two young people</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>JIM RATTRAY, TROOPER</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_52'>52</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Kelso B. Johnson</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A story of the North-West Mounted Police</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>MARY'S STEPPING ASIDE</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_59'>59</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Edith C. Kenyon</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Self-sacrifice bringing in the end its own reward</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>A RACE FOR LIFE</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_66'>66</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Lucie E. Jackson</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A frontier incident from the Far West</i><br /><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>WHICH OF THE TWO?</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_74'>74</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Agnes Giberne</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A question of duty or inclination</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>A CHRISTMAS WITH AUSTRALIAN BLACKS</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_89'>89</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">J. S. Ponder</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>An unusual but interesting Christmas party described</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>MY MISTRESS ELIZABETH</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_96'>96</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Annie Armitt</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A story of self-sacrifice and treachery in <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Sedgmoor'">Sedgemoor</ins> days</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>GIRL LIFE IN CANADA</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_114'>114</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Janey Canuck</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Girl life described by a resident in Alberta</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>SUCH A TREASURE!</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_120'>120</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Eileen O'Connor</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>How a New Zealand girl found her true calling</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>ROSETTE IN PERIL</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_131'>131</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">M. Lefuse</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A girl's strange adventures in the war of La Vend&eacute;e</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>GOLF FOR GIRLS</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_143'>143</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">An Old Stager</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Some practical advice to beginners and others</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>SUNNY MISS MARTIN</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_148'>148</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Somerville Gibney</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A story of misunderstanding, patience, and reconciliation</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>WHILST WAITING FOR THE MOTOR</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_160'>160</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Madeline Oyler</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A warning to juvenile offenders</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>THE GRUMPY MAN</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_165'>165</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hartley Perks</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A child's intervention and its results</i><br /><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>DOGS WE HAVE KNOWN</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_183'>183</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Lady Catherine Milnes-Gaskell</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>True stories of dog life</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>DAFT BESS</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_197'>197</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Kate Burnley Bent</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A tale of the Cornish Coast</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>A SPRINGTIME DUET</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_203'>203</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Mary Leslie</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A domestic chant for spring-cleaning days.</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>OUT OF DEADLY PERIL</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_204'>204</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">K. Balfour Murphy</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A skating episode in Canada</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>THE PEARL-RIMMED LOCKET</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_211'>211</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">M. B. Manwell</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>The detection of a strange offender</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>REMBRANDT'S SISTER</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_221'>221</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Henry Williams</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A record of affection and self-sacrifice</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>HEPSIE'S XMAS VISIT</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_230'>230</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Maud Maddick</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A child's misdeed and its unexpected results</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>OUR AFRICAN DRIVER</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_238'>238</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">J. H. Spettigue</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A glimpse of South African life</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>CLAUDIA'S PLACE</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_247'>247</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">A. R. Buckland</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>How Claudia changed her views</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>FAMOUS WOMEN PIONEERS</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_260'>260</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Frank Elias</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Some of the women who have helped to open up new lands</i><br /><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>POOR JANE'S BROTHER</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_266'>266</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">M. Ling</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>The strange adventures of two little people</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>THE SUGAR-CREEK HIGHWAYMAN</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_285'>285</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Adela E. Orpen</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>An alarm and a discovery</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>DOROTHY'S DAY</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_294'>294</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">M. E. Longmore</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A day beginning in sorrow and ending in joy</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>A STRANGE MOOSE HUNT</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_310'>310</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">H. William Dawson</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A hunt that nearly ended in a tragedy</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>A GIRL'S PATIENCE</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_317'>317</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">C. J. Blake</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A difficult part well played</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>THE TASMANIAN SISTERS</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_342'>342</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">E. B. Moore</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>A story of loving service and changed lives</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>THE QUEEN OF CONNEMARA</b></td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_362'>362</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap">Florence Moon</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>An Irish girl's awakening</i><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+
+<h3>IN COLOUR</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Colored Illustrations">
+<tr><td align='left'>ROSALIND'S RACE FOR LIFE</td><td align='right'><a href='#race'><i>Frontispiece</i></a><br /><i>Facing Page</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"THE SON OF MAN CAME NOT TO BE MINISTERED UNTO,<br /><span style="margin-left: 3em;">BUT TO MINISTER"</span></td><td align='right'><a href='#the'>44</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"YOUR SISTER IS COMING?" HE SAID</td><td align='right'><a href='#your'>80</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>MRS. MEADOWS' BROTHER ARRIVED</td><td align='right'><a href='#mrs'>130</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>AT THE SHOW</td><td align='right'><a href='#at'>184</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"DO FORGIVE ME, MOTHER DARLING!"</td><td align='right'><a href='#do'>232</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>HER HOSTESS HAD BEEN FEEDING THE PEACOCKS</td><td align='right'><a href='#hostess'>308</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<h3>IN BLACK AND WHITE</h3>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Black and White Illustrations">
+<tr><td align='left'>"I SHAN'T PLAY IF YOU FELLOWS ARE SO ROUGH!"</td><td align='right'><a href='#picnic'>38</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>GERALD LOOKS PUZZLED</td><td align='right'><a href='#gerald'>46</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>IT WAS UNDER A NOBLE TREE THAT MAX ASKED MARY TO MARRY HIM</td><td align='right'><a href='#it'>64</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"GALLANTS LOUNGING IN THE PARK"</td><td align='right'><a href='#gallants'>98</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>LOOKING AT HIM, I SAW THAT HE WAS HAGGARD AND STRANGE</td><td align='right'><a href='#looking'>106</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>GOLF FOR GIRLS&mdash;A BREEZY MORNING</td><td align='right'><a href='#a'>144</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>SELINA <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'MARTIN'">MARTYN</ins> GAVE HER ANSWER</td><td align='right'><a href='#selina'>158</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE COME ABOUT THE GAS BILL"</td><td align='right'><a href='#i'>170</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>THE ROCK SHE CLUNG TO GAVE WAY</td><td align='right'><a href='#rock'>200</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>SPRING CLEANING</td><td align='right'><a href='#spring'>203</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>HORRIBLE DREAMS OF MONSTERS AND DEMONS</td><td align='right'><a href='#horrible'>216</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>HER VERY YOUTH PLEADED FOR HER</td><td align='right'><a href='#her'>249</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>BARBARA'S VISIT</td><td align='left'><a href='#barbara'>268</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"AS HE KISSED HIS <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'FIRSTBORN'">FIRSTBORN</ins> UNDER THE MISTLETOE"</td><td align='right'><a href='#as'>340</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"NOW I AM GOING TO FAN YOU," SHE SAID</td><td align='right'><a href='#now'>348</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>EILY STOOD A FORLORN, DESOLATE FIGURE ON EUSTON PLATFORM</td><td align='right'><a href='#eily'>366</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>INDEX TO AUTHORS</h2>
+
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Authors">
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>ARMITT, ANNIE</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_96'>96</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>BENT, KATE BURNLEY</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_197'>197</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>BLAKE, C. J.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_317'>317</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>BUCKLAND, A. R.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_247'>247</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>CANUCK, JANEY</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_114'>114</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>CREIGHTON, MRS.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_39'>39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>DAWSON, H. WILLIAM</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_310'>310</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>ELIAS, FRANK</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_260'>260</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>GIBERNE, AGNES</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_74'>74</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>GIBNEY, SOMERVILLE</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_148'>148</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>JACKSON, LUCIE E.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_66'>66</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>JOHNSON, KELSO B.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_52'>52</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>KENYON, EDITH C.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_59'>59</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>LEFUSE, M.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_131'>131</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>LESLIE, MARY</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_203'>203</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>LING, M.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_266'>266</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>LONGMORE, M. E.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_294'>294</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>MACQUOID, MRS.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_22'>22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>MADDICK, MAUD</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_230'>230</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>MANWELL, M. B.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_211'>211</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>MILNES-GASKELL, LADY CATHERINE</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_183'>183</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>MOON, FLORENCE</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_362'>362</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>MOORE, E. B.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_342'>342</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>MURPHY, K. BALFOUR</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_204'>204</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>O'CONNOR, EILEEN</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_120'>120</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>OLD STAGER, AN</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_143'>143</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>OYLER, LESLIE M.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_45'>45</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>OYLER, MADELINE</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_160'>160</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>ORPEN, ADELA E.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_285'>285</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>PERKS, MRS. HARTLEY</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_165'>165</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>PONDER, J. S.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_89'>89</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>SPETTIGUE, J. H.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_238'>238</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>VAIZEY, MRS. G. DE HORNE</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_9'>9</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>WILLIAMS, HENRY</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_221'>221</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>The Christmas Child</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Mrs. G. de Horne Vaizey</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">A happy thought, a cross-country journey, a strange
+discovery, another happy thought, and many still happier thoughts
+hereafter!</div>
+
+<p>Jack said: "Nonsense! We are all grown up now. Let Christmas alone. Take
+no notice of it; treat it as if it were an ordinary day."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret said: "The servants have all begged for leave. Most of their
+mothers are dying, and if they are not, it's a sister who is going to be
+married. Really, it's a servants' ball which the Squire is giving in the
+village hall. Mean, I call it, to decoy one's maids just when one needs
+them most!"</p>
+
+<p>Tom said: "Beastly jolly dull show anyhow, to spend the day alone with
+your brothers and sisters. Better chuck it at once!"</p>
+
+<p>Peg said firmly and with emphasis: "<i>Heathen!</i> Miserable, cold-blooded,
+materially-minded <i>frogs!</i> Where's your Christmas spirit, I should like
+to know? . . . If you have none for yourselves, think of other people.
+Think of <i>me!</i> I love my Christmas, and I'm not going to give it up for
+you or any one else. My very first Christmas at home as a growed-up
+lady, and you want to diddle me out of it. . . . Go to! Likewise, avaunt!
+Now by my halidom, good <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>sirs, you know not with whom you have to deal.
+'Tis my royal pleasure the revels proceed!"</p>
+
+<p>Jack grimaced eloquently at Margaret, who grimaced back.</p>
+
+<p>"With all the pleasure in the world," he said suavely. "Show me a revel,
+and I'll revel with the best. I like revels. What I do <i>not</i> like is to
+stodge at home eating an indigestible meal, and pretending that I'm full
+of glee, when in reality I'm bored to death. If you could suggest a
+change. . . ."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret sighed; Tom sniffed; Peg pursed up her lips and thought.
+Presently her eyes brightened. "Of course," she remarked tentatively,
+"there are the Revells!"</p>
+
+<p>Jack flushed and bit his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so! There are. Fifty miles away, and not a spare bed in the
+house. Lot of good they are to us, to be sure! Were you going to suggest
+that we dropped in for a quiet call? Silly nonsense, to talk of a thing
+like that."</p>
+
+<p>Jack was quite testy and huffed, for the suggestion touched a tender
+point. The Revells were the friends <i>par excellence</i> of the family of
+which he was the youthful head. It seemed, indeed, as if the two
+households had been specially manufactured so that each should fit the
+wants of the other. Jack was very certain that, in any case, Myra Revell
+supplied all that <i>he</i> lacked, and the very thought of spending
+Christmas Day in her company sent a pang of longing through his heart.
+Margaret cherished a romantic admiration for Mrs. Revell, who was still
+a girl at heart despite the presence of a grown-up family. Dennis was at
+Marlborough with Tom; while Pat or Patricia was Peg's bosom chum.</p>
+
+<p>What could you wish for more? A Christmas spent with the Revells would
+be a pure delight; but alas! fifty miles of some of the wildest and
+bleakest country in England stretched between the two homes, which,
+being on different lines of railway, were inaccessible by the ordinary
+route. Moreover, the Revells were, as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>they themselves cheerfully
+declared, "reduced paupers," and inhabited a picturesquely dilapidated
+old farmhouse, and the problem, "<i>Where do they all sleep?</i>" was as
+engrossing as a jig-saw puzzle to their inquisitive friends. Impossible
+that even a cat could be invited to swing itself within those crowded
+portals; equally impossible to attempt to separate such an affectionate
+family at Christmas-time of all seasons of the year.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Peg Startles Everybody</div>
+
+<p>And yet here was Peg deliberately raking up the painful topic; and after
+the other members of the family had duly reproached and abused, ready to
+level another bolt at their heads.</p>
+
+<p>"S&mdash;uppose we went a burst&mdash;hired a car, drove over early in the
+morning, and marched into church before their very eyes!"</p>
+
+<p>Silence! Sparkling eyes; alert, thoughtful gaze. Could they? Should
+they? Would it be right? A motor for the day meant an expenditure of
+four or five pounds, and though the exchequer was in a fairly prosperous
+condition, five-pound notes could not be treated with indifference.
+Still, in each mind ran the echo of Peg's words. It was Christmas-time.
+Why should they not, just for once, give themselves a treat&mdash;themselves,
+and their dear friends into the bargain?</p>
+
+<p>The sparkle deepened; a flash passed from eye to eye, a flash of
+determination! Without a word of dissent or discussion the proposal was
+seconded, and carried through.</p>
+
+<p>"Fifty miles! We can't go above twenty-five an hour through those bad
+roads. We shall have to be off by nine, if we want to be in time for
+church. What <i>will</i> they think when they see us marching in?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, we mustn't do that. Mrs. Revell would be in a fever the whole
+time, asking herself, '<i>Will the pudding go round?</i>' It really wouldn't
+be kind," pleaded Margaret earnestly, and her hearers chuckled
+reminiscently. Mrs. Revell was a darling, but she was also an
+appallingly bad housekeeper. Living two miles from the nearest shop, she
+yet appeared constitutionally <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>incapable of "thinking ahead"; and it was
+a common experience to behold at the afternoon meal different members of
+the family partaking respectively of tea, coffee, and cocoa, there being
+insufficient of any one beverage to go round.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret's sympathies went out involuntarily towards her friend, but her
+listeners, it is to be feared, were concerned entirely for themselves.
+It might be the custom to abuse the orthodox Christmas dinner, but since
+it <i>was</i> a national custom which one did not care to break, it behoved
+one to have as good a specimen as possible, and the prospect of short
+commons, and indifferent short commons at that, was not attractive.
+<i>Who</i> could be sure that the turkey might not arrive at the table singed
+and charred, and the pudding in a condition of <i>soup?</i></p>
+
+<p>Schoolboy Tom was quick with a suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>"I say&mdash;tell you what! Do the surprise-party business, and take a hamper
+with us. . . . Only decent thing to do, when you march in four strong to
+another person's feed. Dennis would love a hamper&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! Good! Fine idea! So we will! A real old-fashioned hamper, full of
+all the good things they are least likely to have. Game pie&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Tongue&mdash;one of those big, shiny fellows, with scriggles of sugar down
+his back&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ice-pudding in a tin&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy creams&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"French fruits&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Crackers! Handsome ones, with things inside that are worth having&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Bon-bons&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Each one had a fresh suggestion to make, and Margaret scribbled them all
+down on the ivory tablet which hung from her waist, and promptly
+adjourned into the kitchen to give the necessary orders, and to rejoice
+the hearts of her handmaidens by granting a day's leave all round.</p>
+
+<p>On further consideration it was decided to attend <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>early service at
+home, and to start off on the day's expedition at eleven o'clock,
+arriving at the Revell homestead about one, by which time it was
+calculated that the family would have returned from church, and would be
+hanging aimlessly about the garden, in the very mood of all others to
+welcome an unexpected excitement.</p>
+
+<p>Christmas Day broke clear and bright. Punctual to the minute the motor
+came puffing along, the youthful-looking chauffeur drawing up before the
+door with an air of conscious complaisance.</p>
+
+<p>Despite his very professional attire&mdash;perhaps, indeed, because of it&mdash;so
+very youthful did he appear, that Jack was visited by a qualm.</p>
+
+<p>"Er&mdash;er&mdash;are you going to drive us all the way?" he inquired anxiously.
+"When I engaged the car, I saw . . . I thought I had arranged with&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My father, sir. It was my father you saw. Father said, being Christmas
+Day, he didn't care to turn out, so he sent me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You are a qualified driver&mdash;quite capable. . . ?"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Good Start</div>
+
+<p>The lad smiled, a smile of ineffable calm. His eyelids drooped, the
+corners of his mouth twitched and were still. He replied with two words
+only, an unadorned "Yes, sir," but there was a colossal, a Napoleonic
+confidence in his manner, which proved quite embarrassing to his
+hearers. Margaret pinched Jack's arm as a protest against further
+questionings; Jack murmured something extraordinarily like an apology;
+then they all tumbled into the car, tucked the rugs round their knees,
+turned up the collars of their coats, and sailed off on the smooth,
+swift voyage through the wintry air.</p>
+
+<p>For the first hour all went without a hitch. The youthful chauffeur
+drove smoothly and well; he had not much knowledge of the countryside;
+but as Jack knew every turn by heart, having frequently bicycled over
+the route, no delay was caused, and a merrier party of Christmas
+revellers could not have been found <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>than the four occupants of the
+tonneau. They sang, they laughed, they told stories, and asked riddles;
+they ate sandwiches out of a tin, and drank hot coffee out of a thermos
+flask, and congratulated themselves, not once, but a dozen times, over
+their own ingenuity in hitting upon such a delightful variation to the
+usual Christmas programme.</p>
+
+<p>More than half the distance had been accomplished; the worst part of the
+road had been reached, and the car was beginning to bump and jerk in a
+somewhat uncomfortable fashion. Jack frowned, and looked at the slight
+figure of the chauffeur with a returning doubt.</p>
+
+<p>"He's all right on smooth roads, but this part needs a lot of driving.
+Another time&mdash;&mdash;" He set his lips, and mentally rehearsed the complaints
+which he would make to "my father" when he paid the bill. Margaret gave
+a squeal, and looked doubtfully over the side.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I suppose it's all right! What would happen if he lost control, and
+we slipped back all the way downhill?"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't a question of control. It's a question of the strength of the
+car. It's powerful enough for worse hills than this."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that funny noise? It didn't sound like that before. Kind of a
+clickety-clack. . . . Don't you hear it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Of course not. Don't be stupid and imagine things that don't
+exist. . . . What's the difference between&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Jack nobly tried to distract attention from the car, but before another
+mile had been traversed, the clickety-clack noise grew too loud to be
+ignored, the car drew up with a jerk, and the chauffeur leaped out.</p>
+
+<p>"I must just see&mdash;&mdash;" he murmured vaguely; vaguely also he seemed to
+grope at the machinery of the car, while the four occupants of the
+tonneau hung over the doors watching his progress; then once more
+springing to his seat, he started the car, and they went bumping
+unevenly along the road. No more <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>singing now; no more laughing and
+telling of tales; deep in each breast lay the presage of coming ill;
+four pairs of eyes scanned the dreary waste of surrounding country,
+while four brains busily counted up the number of miles which still lay
+between them and their destination. Twenty miles at least, and not a
+house in sight except one dreary stone edifice standing back from the
+road, behind a mass of evergreen trees.</p>
+
+<p>"This fellow is no good for rough roads. He would wear out a car in no
+time, to say nothing of the passengers. Can't think why we haven't had a
+puncture before now!" said Jack gloomily; whereupon Margaret called him
+sharply to order.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say such things . . . don't think them. It's very wrong. You ought
+always to expect the best&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't suppose my thinking is going to have any effect on rubber, do
+you?" Jack's tone was decidedly snappy. He was a lover, and it tortured
+him to think that an accident to the car might delay his meeting with
+his love. He had never spent a Christmas Day with Myra before; surely on
+this day of days she would be kinder, sweeter, relax a little of her
+proud restraint. Perhaps there would be mistletoe. . . . Suppose he found
+himself alone with Myra beneath the mistletoe bough? Suppose he kissed
+her? Suppose she turned upon him with her dignified little air and
+reproached him, saying he had no right? Suppose he said, "<i>Myra! will
+you give me the right?</i>" . . .</p>
+
+<p>No wonder that the car seemed slow to the lover's mind; no wonder that
+every fresh jerk and strain deepened the frown on his brow. The road was
+strewn with rough, sharp stones; but in another mile or two they would
+be on a smooth high-road once more. If only they could last out those
+few miles!</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Puncture</div>
+
+<p>Bang! A sharp, pistol-like noise rent the air, a noise which told its
+own tale to the listening ears. A tyre had punctured, and a dreary
+half-hour's delay must be faced while the youthful chauffeur repaired
+the damage. The passengers leaped to the ground, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>exhausted
+themselves in lamentations. They were already behind time, and this new
+delay would make them later than ever. . . . Suddenly they became aware
+that they were cold and tired&mdash;shivering with cold. Peg looked down at
+her boots, and supposed that there were feet inside, but as a matter of
+sensation it was really impossible to say. Margaret's nose was a cheery
+plaid&mdash;blue patches neatly veined with red. Jack looked from one to the
+other and forgot his own impatience in anxiety for their welfare.</p>
+
+<p>"Girls, you look frozen! Cut away up to that house, and ask them to let
+you sit by the fire for half an hour. Much better than hanging about
+here. I'll come for you when we are ready."</p>
+
+<p>The girls glanced doubtfully at the squat, white house, which in truth
+looked the reverse of hospitable; but the prospect of a fire being
+all-powerful at the moment, they turned obediently, and made their way
+up a worn gravel path, leading to the shabbiest of painted doors.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret knocked; Peg rapped; then Margaret knocked again; but nobody
+came, and not a sound broke the stillness within. The girls shivered and
+told each other disconsolately there was no one to come. Who <i>would</i>
+live in such a dreary house, in such a dreary, solitary waste, if it
+were possible to live anywhere else? Then they strolled round the corner
+of the house, and caught the cheerful glow of firelight, which settled
+the question, once for all.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's try the back door!" said Margaret, and the back door being found,
+they knocked again, but knocked in vain. Then Peg gave an impatient
+shake to the handle, and lo and behold! it turned in her hand, and swung
+slowly open on its hinges, showing a glimpse of a trim little kitchen,
+and beyond that a narrow passage leading to the front door.</p>
+
+<p>"Is any one there? Is any one there?" chanted Margaret loudly. She took
+a hesitating step into the passage&mdash;took two; repeated the cry in an
+even higher <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>key; but still no answer came, still the same uncanny
+silence brooded over all.</p>
+
+<p>The girls stood still, and gazed in each other's eyes; in each face were
+reflected the same emotions&mdash;curiosity, interest, a tinge of fear.</p>
+
+<p>What could it mean? Could there be some one within these silent walls
+who was <i>ill</i>, helpless, in need of aid?</p>
+
+<p>"I think," declared Margaret firmly, "that it is our duty to look. . . ."
+In after days she always absolved herself from any charge of curiosity
+in this decision, and declared that her action was dictated solely by a
+feeling of duty; but her hearers had their doubts. Be that as it might,
+the decision fell in well with Peg's wishes, and the two girls walked
+slowly down the passage, repeating from time to time the cry "Is any one
+there?" the while their eyes busily scanned all they could see, and drew
+Sherlock Holmes conclusions therefrom.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">What the Girls found</div>
+
+<p>The house belonged to a couple who had a great many children and very
+little money. There was a cupboard beneath the stairs filled with shabby
+little boots; there was a hat-rack in the hall covered with shabby
+little caps. They were people of education and culture, for there were
+books in profusion, and the few pictures on the walls showed an artistic
+taste; they were tidy people also, for everything was in order, and a
+peep into the firelit room on the right showed the table set ready for
+the Christmas meal. It was like wandering through the enchanted empty
+palaces of the dear old fairy-tales, except that it was not a palace at
+all, and the banquet spread out on the darned white cloth was of so
+meagre a description, that at the sight the beholders flushed with a
+shamed surprise.</p>
+
+<p>That Christmas table&mdash;should they ever forget it? If they lived to be a
+hundred years old should they ever again behold a feast so poor in
+material goods, so rich in beauty of thought? For it would appear that
+though money was wanting, there was no lack of love and poetry in this
+lonely home. The table <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>was decked with great bunches of holly, and
+before every seat a little card bore the name of a member of the family,
+printed on a card, which had been further embellished by a flower or
+spray, painted by an artist whose taste was in advance of his
+skill&mdash;"Father," "Mother," "Amy," "Fred," "Norton," "Mary," "Teddums,"
+"May." Eight names in all, but nine chairs, and the ninth no ordinary,
+cane-seated chair like the rest, but a beautiful, high-backed,
+carved-oak erection, ecclesiastical in design, which looked strangely
+out of place in the bare room.</p>
+
+<p>There was no card before this ninth chair, but on the uncushioned seat
+lay a square piece of cardboard, bordered with a painted wreath of
+holly, inscribed on which were four short words.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret and Peg read them with a sudden shortening of the breath and
+smarting of the eyes:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>For the Christ Child!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah-h!" Margaret's hand stretched out, seized Peg's, and held it fast.
+In the rush and bustle of the morning it had been hard to realise the
+meaning of the day: now, for the first time, the spirit of Christmas
+flooded her heart, filled it with love, with a longing to help and to
+serve.</p>
+
+<p>"Peg! Peg!" she cried breathlessly. "How beautiful of them! They have so
+little themselves, but they have remembered the old custom, the sweet
+old custom, and made <i>Him</i> welcome. . . ." Her eyes roamed to the window,
+and lit with sudden inspiration. She lifted her hand and pointed to a
+distant steeple rising above the trees. "They have all gone off to
+church&mdash;father and mother, and Amy and Fred&mdash;all the family together!
+That's why the house is empty. And dinner is waiting for their return!"</p>
+
+<p>She turned again to the table, her housekeeper's eye taking in at a
+flash the paucity of its furnishings. "Peg! can this be <i>all?</i> <i>All</i>
+that they have to eat. . . ? Let us look in the kitchen. . . . I must make
+quite sure. . . ."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was no feeling of embarrassment, no consciousness of impertinent
+curiosity, in the girls' minds as they investigated the contents of
+kitchen and larder. At that moment the house seemed their own, its
+people their people; they were just two more members of a big family,
+whose duty it was to look after the interests of their brothers and
+sisters while they were away; and when evidences of poverty and
+emptiness met them on every side, the two pairs of eyes met with a
+mutual impulse, so strong that it needed not to be put into words.</p>
+
+<p>In another moment they had left the house behind and were running
+swiftly across the meadow towards the car. The chauffeur was busily
+engaged on the tyre, Jack and Tom helping, or hindering as the case
+might be. The hamper lay on the ground where it had been placed for
+greater security during the repairs. The girls nipped it up by its
+handles, and ran off again, regardless of protests and inquiries.</p>
+
+<p>It was very heavy, delightfully heavy: the bearers rejoiced in its
+weight, wished it had been three times as heavy; the aching of their
+arms was a positive joy to them as they bore their burden into the
+little dining-room, and laid it down upon the floor.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">What shall we do with it?</div>
+
+<p>"Now! What shall we do now? Shall we lay out the things and make a
+display on the table, or shall we put the pie in the oven beside that
+tiny ghost of a joint, and the pudding in a pan beside the potatoes?
+Which do you think would be best?"</p>
+
+<p>But Margaret shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Neither! Oh! don't you see, both ways would look too human, too
+material. They would show too plainly that strangers had been in, and
+had interfered. I want it to look like a Christmas miracle . . . as if it
+had come straight. . . . We'll lay the basket just as it is, on the Christ
+Child's chair. . . ."</p>
+
+<p>Peg nodded. She was an understanding Peg, and she rose at once to the
+poetry of the idea. Gently, reverently, the girls lifted the basket
+which was to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>have furnished their own repast, laid it on the carved-oak
+chair, and laid on its lid the painted card; then for a moment they
+stood side by side, gazing round the room, seeing in imagination the
+scene which would follow the return of the family from church . . . the
+incredulity, the amaze, the blind mystification, the joy. . . . Peg beamed
+in anticipation of the delight of the youngsters; Margaret had the
+strangest, eeriest feeling of looking straight into a sweet, worn face;
+of feeling the clasp of work-worn hands. It was imagination, she told
+herself, simple imagination, yet the face was alive. . . . Its features
+seemed more distinct than many which she knew in the flesh. She shivered
+slightly, and drew her sister from the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Peg, to cover up our tracks; to leave everything as we found it!
+This door was shut. . . . Have we moved anything from its place, left any
+footmarks on the floor? Be careful, dear, be careful! . . . Push that chair
+into place. . . ."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The tyre was repaired. The chauffeur was straightening his back after
+the long stoop. Jack and Tom were indignantly demanding what had been
+done with the hamper. Being hungry and unromantic, it took some little
+time to convince them that there had been no choice in the matter, and
+that the large family had a right to their luxuries which was not to be
+gainsaid. They had not seen the pitiful emptiness of the Christmas
+table; they had not seen the chair set ready for the Christ Child. The
+girls realised as much and dealt gently with them, and in the outcome no
+one felt the poorer; for the welcome bestowed upon the surprise party
+was untinged by any shadow of embarrassment, and they sat around a
+festal board, happy to feel that their presence was hailed as the
+culminating joy of the day.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>It was evening when the car again approached the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>lonely house, and
+Margaret, speaking down the connecting tube, directed the chauffeur to
+drive at his slowest speed for the next quarter of a mile.</p>
+
+<p>Jack was lying back in his corner, absorbed in happy dreams. Never so
+long as he lived could he forget this Christmas Day, which had seen the
+fulfilment of his hopes in Myra's sweetness, Myra's troth. Tom was fast
+asleep, dreaming of "dorm." suppers, and other escapades of the last
+term. The two sisters were as much alone as if the only occupants of the
+car.</p>
+
+<p>They craned forward, eager for the first glimpse of the house, and
+caught sight of a beam of light athwart the darkness of the night.</p>
+
+<p>The house was all black save for one window, but that was as a
+lighthouse in a waste, for the curtains were undrawn, and fire and lamp
+sent out a rosy glow which seemed the embodiment of cheer.</p>
+
+<p>Against the white background of the wall a group of figures could be
+seen standing together beneath the lamp; the strains of a harmonium
+floated sweetly on the night air, a chorus of glad young voices singing
+the well-known words:</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+"The King of Love my Shepherd is!"<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>With a common impulse the two girls waved their hands from the window as
+the car plunged forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, little sisters!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, little brothers!"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">How He comes</div>
+
+<p>"Sleep well, little people. The Christ Child is with you. You asked Him,
+and He came&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And the wonderful thing," said Peg, "the most wonderful thing is, that
+He came <i>through us!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"But that," answered Margaret thoughtfully, "is just how He always
+<i>does</i> come."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Anna</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Katharine S. Macquoid</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">The story of a girl's adventure for a father's sake that may
+help girls who are at all like Anna.</div>
+
+<p>Three thousand feet up the side of a Swiss mountain a lateral valley
+strikes off in the direction of the heights that border the course of
+the Rhine on its way from Coire to Sargans. The closely-cropped,
+velvet-smooth turf, the abundant woods, sometimes of pine-trees and
+sometimes of beech and chestnut, give a smiling, park-like aspect to the
+broad green track, and suggest ideas of peace and plenty.</p>
+
+<p>As the path gradually ascends on its way to Fadara the wealth of wild
+flowers increases, and adds to the beauty of the scene.</p>
+
+<p>A few brown cow-stables are dotted about the flower-sprinkled meadows; a
+brook runs diagonally across the path, and some freshly-laid planks show
+that inhabitants are not far off; but there is not a living creature in
+sight. The grasshoppers keep up their perpetual chirrup, and if one
+looks among the flowers one can see the gleam of their scarlet wings as
+they jump; for the rest, the flowers and the birds have it all to
+themselves, and they sing their hymns and offer their incense in
+undisturbed solitude.</p>
+
+<p>When one has crossed the brook and climbed an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>upward slope into the
+meadow beyond it, one enters a thick fir-wood full of fragrant shadow;
+at the end is a bank, green and high, crowned by a hedge, and all at
+once the quiet of the place has fled.</p>
+
+<p>Such a variety of sounds come down the green bank! A cock is crowing
+loudly, and there is the bleat of a young calf; pigs are squeaking one
+against another, and in the midst of the din a dog begins to bark. At
+the farther corner, where the hedge retreats from its encroachments on
+the meadow, a grey house comes into view, with a signboard across its
+upper part announcing that here the tired traveller may get dinner and a
+bed.</p>
+
+<p>Before the cock has done crowing&mdash;and really he goes on so long that it
+is a wonder he is not hoarse&mdash;another voice mingles with the rest.</p>
+
+<p>It is a woman's voice, and, although neither hoarse nor shrill, it is no
+more musical than the crow of the other biped, who struts about on his
+widely-spread toes in the yard, to which Christina Fasch has come to
+feed the pigs. There are five of them, pink-nosed and yellow-coated, and
+they keep up a grunting and snarling chorus within their wooden
+enclosure, each struggling to oust a neighbour from his place near the
+trough while they all greedily await their food.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Come, Anna!"</div>
+
+<p>"Come, Anna, come," says the hard voice; "what a slow coach you are! I
+would do a thing three times over while you are thinking about it!"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The farmyard was bordered by the tall hedge, and lay between it and the
+inn. The cow-house, on one side, was separated from the pigstyes by a
+big stack of yellow logs, and the farther corner of the inn was flanked
+by another stack of split wood, fronted by a pile of brushwood; above
+was a wooden balcony that ran also along the house-front, and was
+sheltered by the far-projecting eaves of the shingled roof.</p>
+
+<p>Only the upper part of the inn was built of logs, the rest was brick and
+plaster. The house looked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>neatly kept, the yard was less full of the
+stray wood and litter that is so usual in a Swiss farmyard, but there
+was a dull, severe air about the place. There was not a flower or a
+plant, either in the balcony or on the broad wooden shelves below the
+windows&mdash;not so much as a carnation or a marigold in the vegetable plot
+behind the house.</p>
+
+<p>A shed stood in the corner of this plot, and at the sound of Christina's
+call a girl came out of the shed; she was young and tall and
+strong-looking, but she did not beautify the scene.</p>
+
+<p>To begin with, she stooped; her rough, tangled hair covered her forehead
+and partly hid her eyes; her skin was red and tanned with exposure, and
+her rather wide lips drooped at the corners with an expression of misery
+that was almost grotesque. She carried a pail in each hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Do be quick!" Christina spoke impatiently as she saw her niece appear
+beyond the wood-stack.</p>
+
+<p>Anna started at the harsh voice as if a lash had fallen on her back; the
+pig's food splashed over her gown and filled her heavy leather shoes.</p>
+
+<p>"I had better have done it myself," cried her aunt. "See, unhappy child,
+you have wasted food and time also! Now you must go and clean your shoes
+and stockings; your gown and apron are only fit for the wash-tub! Ah!"</p>
+
+<p>She gave a deep sigh as she took up first one pail and then the other
+and emptied the wash into the pig-trough without spilling a drop by the
+way. Anna stood watching her admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" Christina turned round on her. "I ask myself, what is the use of
+you, child? You are fifteen, and so far it seems to me that you are here
+only to make work for others! When do you mean to do things as other
+people do them? I ask myself, what would become of you if your father
+were a poor man, and you had to earn your living?"</p>
+
+<p>Anna had stooped yet more forward; she seemed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>to crouch as if she
+wanted to get out of sight. Christina suddenly stopped and looked at her
+for an answer. Anna fingered her splashed apron; she tried to speak, but
+a lump rose in her throat, and she could not see for the hot tears that
+would, against her will, rush to her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never do anything well," she said at last, and the misery in
+her voice touched her aunt. "I used not to believe you, aunt, but now I
+see that you are right. I can never be needful to any one." Then she
+went on bitterly: "It would have been better if father had taken me up
+to the lake on Scesaplana when I was a baby and drowned me there as he
+drowned the puppies in the wash-tub."</p>
+
+<p>Christina looked shocked; there was a frown on her heavy face, which was
+usually as expressionless as if it had been carved in wood.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Go, you unlucky child!"</div>
+
+<p>"Fie!" she said. "Think of Gretchen's mother, old Barbara; she does not
+complain of the go&icirc;tre; though she has to bear it under her chin, she
+tries to keep it out of sight. I wish you would do the same with your
+clumsiness. There, go and change your clothes, go, you unlucky child,
+go!"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>You are perhaps wondering how it comes to pass that an inn can exist
+placed alone in the midst of green pasture-land, and only approached by
+a simple foot track, which more than once leads the wayfarer across mere
+plank bridges, and which passes, only at long intervals, small groups of
+cottages that call themselves villages. You naturally wonder how the
+guests at this lonely inn fare with regard to provisions. It is true
+that milk is sent down every day from the cows on the green Alps higher
+up the mountain, and that the farm boasts of plenty of ducks and fowls,
+of eggs and honey. There are a few sheep and goats, too; we have seen
+that there are pigs. <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Fra&uuml;lein'">Fr&auml;ulein</ins> Christina Fasch makes good bread, and she
+is famous for her delicate puddings and sauces; the puzzle is, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>whence
+come the groceries, and the extras, and the wines that are consumed in
+the inn?</p>
+
+<p>A mile or so beyond, on a lower spur of the mountain ridge that
+overlooks the Rhine, a gap comes in the hedge that screens an almost
+precipitous descent into the broad, flat valley. The descent looks more
+perilous than it is, for constant use has worn the slender track into a
+series of rough steps, which lead to the vine-clad knoll on which is
+situated Malans, and at Malans George Fasch, the landlord of our inn,
+can purchase all he needs, for it is near a station on the railway line
+between Zurich and Coire and close to the busy town of Mayenfeld in the
+valley below.</p>
+
+<p>Just now there are no visitors at the inn, so the landlord only makes
+his toilsome journey once a fortnight; but when there is a family in the
+house he visits the valley more frequently, for he cannot bring very
+large stores with him, although he does not spare himself fatigue, and
+he mounts the natural ladder with surprising rapidity, considering the
+load he carries strapped to his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>The great joy of Anna was to meet her father at the top of the pass, and
+persuade him to lighten his burden by giving her some of it to carry;
+and to-day, when she had washed her face and hands, and had changed her
+clothes, she wished that he had gone to Malans; his coming back would
+have helped her to forget her disaster. Her aunt's words clung to the
+girl like burs; and now, as they rang in her ears again, she went into
+the wood to have her cry out, unobserved.</p>
+
+<p>She stood leaning against a tree; and, as the tears rolled over her
+face, she turned and hid it against the rough red bark of the pine. She
+was crying for the loss of the dear, gentle mother who had always helped
+her. Her mother had so screened her awkwardness from public notice that
+Anna had scarcely been aware of it. Her Aunt Christina had said, when
+she was summoned four years ago to manage her brother's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>household,
+"Your wife has ruined Anna, brother. I shall have hard work to improve
+her."</p>
+
+<p>Anna was not crying now about her aunt's constant fault-finding; there
+was something in her grief more bitter even than the tears she shed for
+her mother; it seemed to the girl that day by day she was becoming more
+and more clumsy and stupid; she broke the crockery, and even the
+furniture; she spoiled her frocks; and, worst of all, she had more than
+once met her father's kind blue eyes fixed on her with a look of sadness
+that went to her heart. Did he, too, think that she would never be
+useful to herself or to any one?</p>
+
+<p>At this thought her tears came more freely, and she pressed her hot face
+against the tree.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder why I was made!" she sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>There came a sharp crackling sound, as the twigs and pine-needles
+snapped under a heavy tread.</p>
+
+<p>Anna caught up her white apron and vigorously rubbed her eyes; then she
+hurried out to the path from her shelter among the trees.</p>
+
+<p>In another minute her arms were round her father, and she was kissing
+him on both cheeks.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Startling Face</div>
+
+<p>George Fasch kissed her and patted her shoulder; then a suppressed sob
+caught his ear. He held Anna away from him, and looked at her face.</p>
+
+<p>It was red and green in streaks, and her eyes were red and inflamed. The
+father was startled by her appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter, dear child?" he said. "You are ill."</p>
+
+<p>Then his eyes fell on her apron. Its crumpled state, and the red and
+green smears on it, showed the use to which it had been put, and he
+began to guess what had happened.</p>
+
+<p>Anna hung her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I was crying and I leaned against a tree. Oh, dear, it was a clean
+apron! Aunt will be vexed."</p>
+
+<p>Her father sighed, but he pitied her confusion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why did you cry, my child?" he said, half-tenderly, half in rebuke.
+"Aunt Christina means well, though she speaks abruptly."</p>
+
+<p>He only provoked fresh tears, but Anna tried so hard to keep them back
+that she was soon calm again.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not vexed with Aunt Christina for scolding me," she said; "I
+deserved it; I am sorry for myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," he said cheerfully, "we cannot expect old heads on young
+shoulders." His honest, sunburned face was slightly troubled as he
+looked at her. "You will have to brush up a bit, you know, when
+Christina goes to Zurich. You are going to be left in charge of the
+house for a week or so."</p>
+
+<p>Anna pressed her hands nervously together. She felt that the house would
+suffer greatly under her guidance; but then, she should have her father
+all to herself in her aunt's absence, and she should be freed from those
+scathing rebukes which made her feel all the more clumsy and helpless
+when they were uttered in her father's presence.</p>
+
+<p>George Fasch, however, had of late become very much aware of his
+daughter's awkwardness, and secretly he was troubled by the prospect of
+her aunt's absence. He was a kind man and an affectionate father, but he
+objected to Gretchen's unaided cookery, and he had therefore resolved to
+transact some long-deferred business in Zurich during his sister's stay
+there. This would lessen the number of his badly-cooked dinners at home.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall start with Christina," he said&mdash;"some one must go with her to
+Pardisla; and next day I shall come home by Malans, so you will have to
+meet me on Wednesday evening at the old place, eh, Anna?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded and smiled, but she felt a little disappointed. She
+reflected, however, that she should have her father alone for some days
+after his return.</p>
+
+<p>Christina was surprised to see how cheerful the girl looked when she
+came indoors.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Rain fell incessantly for several days, and even <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>when it ceased masses
+of white vapour rose up from the neighbouring valleys and blotted out
+everything. The vapour had lifted, however, when Fasch and his sister
+started on their expedition, and Anna, tired of her week's seclusion,
+set out on a ramble. A strange new feeling came over the girl as soon as
+she lost sight of her aunt's straight figure. She was free, there would
+be no one to scold her or to make her feel awkward; she vaulted with
+delight, and with an ease that surprised her, over the fence that parted
+the two meadows; she looked down at her skirt, and she saw with relief
+that she had not much frayed it, yet she knew there were thorns, for
+there had been an abundance of wild roses in the hedge.</p>
+
+<p>A lark was singing blithely overhead, and the grasshoppers filled the
+air with joyful chirpings. Anna's face beamed with content.</p>
+
+<p>"If life could be always like to-day!" she thought, "oh, how nice it
+would be!"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">In the Marsh</div>
+
+<p>Presently she reached the meadow with the brook running across it, and
+she gave a cry of delight; down in the marsh into which the brook ran
+across the sloping field she saw a mass of bright dark-blue. These were
+gentian-flowers, opening blue and green blossoms to the sunshine, and in
+front of them the meadow itself was white with a sprinkling of grass of
+Parnassus.</p>
+
+<p>Anna had a passionate love of flowers, and, utterly heedless of all but
+the joy of seeing them, she ran down the slope, and only stopped when
+she found herself ankle-deep in the marsh below, in which the gentian
+grew.</p>
+
+<p>This sobered her excitement. She pulled out one foot, and was shocked to
+find that she had left her shoe behind in the black slime; she was
+conscious, too, that her other foot was sinking deeper and deeper in the
+treacherous marsh. There was nothing to hold by, there was not even an
+osier near at hand; behind the gentian rose a thicket of rosy-blossomed
+willow-herb, and here and there was a creamy tassel of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>meadowsweet, but
+even these were some feet beyond her grasp.</p>
+
+<p>Anna looked round her in despair. From the next field came a clicking
+sound, and as she listened she guessed that old Andreas was busy mowing.</p>
+
+<p>He was old, but he was not deaf, and she could easily make him hear a
+cry for help; but she was afraid of Andreas. He kept the hotel garden in
+order, and if he found footmarks on the vegetable plots, or if anything
+went wrong with the plants, he always laid the blame on Anna; he was as
+neat as he was captious, and the girl shrank from letting him see the
+plight she was in.</p>
+
+<p>She stooped down and felt for her shoe, and as she recovered it she
+nearly fell full length into the bog; the struggle to keep her balance
+was fatal; her other foot sank several inches; it seemed to her that she
+must soon be sucked down by the horrible black water that spurted up
+from the marsh with her struggles.</p>
+
+<p>Without stopping to think, she cried out as loud as she could, "Help me,
+Andreas! Help! I am drowning!"</p>
+
+<p>At the cry the top of a straw hat appeared in sight, and its owner came
+up-hill&mdash;a small man, with twisted legs, in pale clay-coloured trousers,
+a black waistcoat, and brown linen shirtsleeves. His wrinkled face
+looked hot, and his hat was pushed to the back of his head. He took it
+off and wiped his face with his handkerchief while he looked round him.</p>
+
+<p>"Pouf!" He gave a grunt of displeasure. "So you are once more in
+mischief, are you? Ah, ah, ah! What, then, will the aunt, that ever to
+be respected <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Fra&uuml;lein'">Fr&auml;ulein</ins>, say, when she hears of this?"</p>
+
+<p>He called this out as he came leisurely across the strip of meadow that
+separated him from Anna.</p>
+
+<p>She was in an agony of fear lest she should sink still farther in before
+he reached her; but she knew Andreas far too well to urge him even by a
+word to greater haste. So she stood shivering and pale with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>fear while
+she clasped her bog-stained shoe close to her.</p>
+
+<p>Andreas had brought a stake with him, and he held this out to Anna, but
+when she tried to draw out her sinking foot she shook her head, it
+seemed to be stuck too fast in the bog.</p>
+
+<p>Andreas gave a growl of discontent, and then went slowly up to the plank
+bridge. With some effort he raised the smaller of the two planks and
+carried it to where Anna stood fixed like a statue among the flowering
+water-plants. Then he pushed the plank out till it rested on a hillock
+of rushes, while the other end remained on the meadow.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!"&mdash;he drew a long breath&mdash;"see the trouble you give by your
+carelessness."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke vindictively, as if he would have liked to give her a good
+shaking; but Anna smiled at him, she was so thankful at the prospect of
+release.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Rescued</div>
+
+<p>The mischievous little man kept her waiting some minutes. He pretended
+to test the safety of the plank by walking up and down it and trying it
+with his foot. At last, when the girl's heart had become sick with
+suspense, he suddenly stretched out both hands and pulled her on to the
+plank, then he pushed her along before him till she was on dry ground
+once more.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you, Andreas," she began, but he cut her thanks very short.</p>
+
+<p>"Go home at once and dry yourself," he said. "You are the plague of my
+life, and if I had been a wise man I should have left you in the marsh.
+Could not your senses tell you that all that rain meant danger in boggy
+places? There'll be mischief somewhere besides this; a landslip or two,
+more than likely. There, run home, child, or you'll get cold."</p>
+
+<p>He turned angrily away and went back to his work.</p>
+
+<p>Anna hurried to the narrowest part of the brook and jumped across it.
+She could not make herself in a worse plight than she was already; her
+skirts were dripping with the black and filthy water of the marsh.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Heavy rain fell again during the night, and continued throughout the
+morning, but in the afternoon there was a glimpse of sunshine overhead.
+This soon drew the vapour up again from the valley, and white
+steam-clouds sailed slowly across the landscape.</p>
+
+<p>Gretchen had been very kind and compassionate about Anna's disaster; she
+made the girl go to bed for an hour or two, and gave her some hot broth,
+and Anna would have forgotten her trouble but for the certainty she felt
+that old Andreas would make as bad a story of it as he could to her Aunt
+Christina. But this morning the girl was looking forward to her father's
+home-coming, and she was in good spirits; she had tried to make herself
+extra neat, and to imitate as closely as she could her Aunt Christina's
+way of tidying the rooms; but one improvement suggested itself to Anna
+which would certainly not have occurred to her tidy aunt; if she had
+thought of it, she would have scouted the idea as useless, and a
+frivolous waste of time.</p>
+
+<p>Directly after the midday meal Anna went out to gather a wild-flower
+nosegay, to place in the sitting-room in honour of her father's return.
+It seemed to her the only means she had of showing him how glad she was
+to see him again.</p>
+
+<p>While she was busy gathering Andreas crossed the meadow; he did not see
+Anna stooping over the flowers, and she kept herself hidden; but the
+sight of him brought back a haunting fear. What was it? What had Andreas
+said that she had forgotten? He had said something which had startled
+her at the time, and which now came pressing urgently on her for
+remembrance, although she could not distinctly recall it.</p>
+
+<p>What was it? Anna stood asking herself; the flowers fell out of her hand
+on to the grass among their unplucked companions; she stood for some
+minutes absorbed in thought.</p>
+
+<p>Andreas had passed out of sight, and she could not venture to follow
+him, for she did not know what she wanted him to tell her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A raindrop fell on her hand, and she looked up. Yes, the rain had begun
+again. Anna gave a sudden start; she left the flowers and set off
+running towards the point at which she was accustomed to meet her
+father.</p>
+
+<p>With the raindrop the clue she had been seeking had come to her. Andreas
+had said there might very likely be landslips, and who could say that
+there might not have been one on the hillside above Malans? Anna had
+often heard her father say that, though he could climb the steep ascent
+with his burden, he should be sorry to have to go down with it. If the
+track had been partly carried away, he might begin to climb without any
+warning of the danger that lay before him. . . .</p>
+
+<p>Anna trembled and shivered as she thought of the danger. It would be
+growing dusk before her father began to climb, and who could say what
+might happen?</p>
+
+<p>She hurried on to the place at which she always met her father. When she
+had crossed the brook that parted the field with the gap from the field
+preceding it, Anna stood still in dismay. The hedge was gone, and so was
+a good strip of the field it had bordered.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Landslip</div>
+
+<p>There had already been a landslip.</p>
+
+<p>Anna had learned wisdom by her mischance yesterday, and she went on
+slowly and cautiously till she drew near the edge; then she knelt down
+on the grass, and, creeping along on her hands and knees, she peered
+over the broken, slippery edge. The landslip seemed to have reached
+midway down the cliff, but the rain had washed the earth and rubbish to
+one side.</p>
+
+<p>So far as Anna could make out, the way up, half-way, was as firm as
+ever; then there came a heap of debris from the fall of earth, and then
+the bare rock rose to the top, upright and dreadful.</p>
+
+<p>Anna's head turned dizzy as she looked down the precipice, and she
+forced herself to crawl backward from the crumbling edge only just in
+time, for it seemed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>to her that some mysterious power was beckoning her
+from below.</p>
+
+<p>When she got on her feet she stood and wondered what was to be done. How
+was she to warn her father of this danger?</p>
+
+<p>She looked at the sun; it was still high up in the sky, so she had some
+hours before her. There was no other way to Malans but this one, unless
+by going back half-way to Seewis, to where a path led down to Pardisla,
+and thence into the Landquart valley, where the high-road went on to
+Malans, past the corner where the Landquart falls into the Rhine. Anna
+had learned all this as a child from the big map which hung in the
+dining-room at the inn. But on the map it looked a long, long way to the
+Rhine valley, and she had heard her father tell her Aunt Christina that
+she must take the diligence at Pardisla; it would be too far, he said,
+to walk to Landquart, and Anna knew that Malans was farther still. She
+stood wondering what could be done.</p>
+
+<p>In these last four years she had become by degrees penetrated with a
+sense of her own utter uselessness, and she had gradually sunk into a
+melancholy condition. She did only what she was told to do, and she
+always expected to be told how to do it.</p>
+
+<p>Her first thought now was, how could she get help or advice? she knew
+only two people who could help her&mdash;Gretchen and Andreas. The last, she
+reflected, must be already at some distance. When she saw him, he was
+carrying a basket, and he had, no doubt, gone to Seewis, for it was
+market-day in that busy village. As to Gretchen, Anna felt puzzled.
+Gretchen never went from home; what could she know about time and the
+distance from the Rhine valley?</p>
+
+<p>Besides, while the girl stood thinking her sense of responsibility
+unfolded, the sense that comes to every rational creature in a moment
+that threatens danger to others; and she saw that by going back even to
+consult with Gretchen she must lose many precious <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>minutes. There was no
+near road to the valley, but it would save a little to keep well behind
+the inn on her downward way to Pardisla.</p>
+
+<p>As Anna went along the day cleared again. The phantom-like mists drifted
+aside and showed on the opposite mountain's side brilliant green Alps in
+the fir-wood that reached almost to the top. The lark overhead sang
+louder, and the grasshopper's metallic chirp was incessant under foot.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Father must be Warned</div>
+
+<p>Anna's heart became lighter as she hurried on; surely, she thought, she
+must reach Malans before her father had begun to climb the mountain. She
+knew that he would have left his knapsack at Mayenfeld, and that he must
+call there for it on his way home. Unless the landslip was quite recent
+it seemed to her possible that some one might be aware of what had
+happened, and might give her father warning; but Anna had seen that for
+a good way above Malans the upward path looked all right, and it was so
+perpendicular that she fancied the destruction of its upper portion
+might not have been at once discovered, especially if it had occurred at
+night. No, she was obliged to see that it was extremely doubtful whether
+her father would receive any warning unless she reached the foot of the
+descent before he did.</p>
+
+<p>So she went at her utmost speed down the steep stony track to Pardisla.
+New powers seemed to have come to her with the intensity of her
+suspense.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>George Fasch had every reason to be content with the way in which he had
+managed his business at Zurich; and yet, as he travelled back to
+Mayenfeld, he was in a desponding mood. All the way to Zurich his sister
+had talked about Anna. She said she had tried her utmost with the girl,
+and that she grew worse and worse.</p>
+
+<p>"She is reckless and thoroughly unreliable," she said, "and she gets
+more stupid every day. If you were wise you would put her into a
+reformatory."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>George Fasch shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"She is affectionate," he said bluntly, "and she is very unselfish. I
+should be sorry to send her from home."</p>
+
+<p>Christina held up her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I call a girl selfish who gives so much trouble. Gretchen has to wash
+out three skirts a week for Anna. She is always spoiling her clothes. I,
+on the contrary, call her very selfish, brother."</p>
+
+<p>George Fasch shrugged his shoulders again; he remembered the red and
+green apron, and he supposed that Christina must be right; and now, as
+he travelled back alone, he asked himself what he must do. Certainly he
+saw no reason why he should place Anna in a reformatory&mdash;that would be,
+he thought, a sure way of making her unhappy, and perhaps even
+desperate; but Christina's words had shown him her unwillingness to be
+plagued with his daughter's ways, and he shrank from the idea of losing
+his useful housekeeper. He had been accustomed to depend on his sister
+for the management of the inn, and he felt that no paid housekeeper
+would be able to fill Christina's place. Besides, it would cost more
+money to pay a stranger.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, he must send Anna away, but he shrank from the idea. There was a
+timid, pathetic look in the girl's dark eyes that warned him against
+parting her from those she loved. After all, was she not very like her
+mother? and his sweet lost wife had often told George Fasch how dreamy
+and heedless and stupid she had been in childhood. He was sure that Anna
+would mend in time, if only he could hit on some middle course at
+present.</p>
+
+<p>The weather had been fine at Zurich; and he was surprised, when he
+quitted the train, to see the long wreaths of white vapour that floated
+along the valley and up the sides of the hill. It was clearer when he
+had crossed the river; but before he reached Malans evening was drawing
+in, and everything grew misty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He had made his purchases at Mayenfeld so as to avoid another stoppage;
+and, with his heavy load strapped on his back, he took a by-path that
+skirted Malans, and led him straight to the bottom of the descent
+without going through the village. There was a group of trees just at
+the foot of the path, which increased the gathering gloom.</p>
+
+<p>"My poor child will be tired of waiting," he thought, and he began to
+climb the steep ascent more rapidly than usual.</p>
+
+<p>All at once a faint cry reached him; he stopped and listened, but it did
+not come again.</p>
+
+<p>The way was very slippery, he thought; his feet seemed to be clogged
+with soft earth, and he stopped at last to breathe. Then he heard
+another cry, and the sound of footsteps behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Some one was following him up the dangerous ascent. And as his ears took
+in the sound he heard Anna's voice some way below.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"You cannot climb To-night!"</div>
+
+<p>"Father! father! stop! stop!" she cried; "there is a landslip above; you
+cannot climb to-night."</p>
+
+<p>George Fasch stopped. He shut his eyes and opened them again. It seemed
+to him that he was dreaming. How came Anna to be at the foot of the pass
+if it was not possible to climb to the top of it?</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Anna? Do you mean that I must come down again?" he said
+wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes; the path above is destroyed."</p>
+
+<p>And once more he wondered if all this could be real.</p>
+
+<p>"Father, can you come down with the pack, or will you unfasten it and
+leave it behind?"</p>
+
+<p>George Fasch thought a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"You must go down first," he said, "and keep on one side; the distance
+is short, and I think I can do it; but I may slip by the way."</p>
+
+<p>There were minutes of breathless suspense while Anna stood in the
+gathering darkness, and then the heavy footsteps ceased to descend, and
+she found herself suddenly hugged close in her father's arms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My good girl," he said, "my good Anna, how did you come here?"</p>
+
+<p>Anna could not speak. She trembled like a leaf, and then she began to
+sob. The poor girl was completely exhausted by the terrible anxiety she
+had gone through, and by fatigue.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I was too late," she sobbed; "it looked so dark. I feared you
+could not see; I cried out, but you did not answer. Oh, father!"&mdash;she
+caught at his arms&mdash;"if I had been really too late!"</p>
+
+<p>Her head sank on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>George Fasch patted her cheek. He was deeply moved, but he did not
+speak; he would hear by-and-by how it had all happened. Presently he
+said cheerfully:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my girl, we must let Gretchen wonder what has happened to us
+to-night. You and I will get beds at Malans. My clever Anna has done
+enough for one day."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Three years have passed since Anna's memorable journey. Her Aunt
+Christina has married, and she has gone to live in Zurich; Anna is now
+alone with her father and Gretchen. She has developed in all ways; that
+hurried journey to the foot of the mountain had been a mental tonic to
+the girl. She has learned to be self-reliant in a true way, and she has
+found out the truth of a very old proverb, which says, "No one knows
+what he can do till he tries."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>To Girls of the Empire</h2>
+
+<h3>The Call to Service</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Mrs. Creighton</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Mrs. Creighton (the widow of one of the most brilliant men
+who ever adorned the English episcopate) has herself been an ardent
+worker in literary and social fields. Her appeal to the girls of the
+Empire lays stress on the joy as well as the privilege of service.</div>
+
+<p>There are those who speak of patriotism as selfish,
+and bid us cultivate a wider spirit, and think and work for the good of
+the whole world rather than for the good of our own country. It is true
+that there is a narrow and a selfish patriotism which blinds us to the
+good in other nations, which limits our aspirations and breeds a spirit
+of jealousy and self-assertion. The true patriotism leads us to love our
+country, and to work for it because we believe that God has given it a
+special mission, a special part to play in the development of His great
+purpose in the world, and that ours is the high privilege of helping it
+to fulfil that mission.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment there seems to come a special call to women to share in
+the work that we believe the British Empire is bidden to do for the good
+of the whole world. If we British people fail to rise to the great
+opportunity that lies before us, it will be because we love easy ways,
+and material comfort, and all the pleasant things that come to us so
+readily, because we have lost the spirit of enterprise, the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>capacity to
+do hard things, and are content with trying to get the best out of life
+for ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>We need to keep always a high ideal before us, and as civilisation
+increases and brings ever new possibilities of enjoyment, the
+maintenance of that high ideal becomes always more difficult. Nothing
+helps so much to keep us from low ideals as the conviction that life is
+a call from God to service, and that our truest happiness is to be found
+in using every gift, every capacity that we possess, for the good of
+others.</p>
+
+<p>Girls naturally look forward into life and wonder what it will bring
+them. Those will probably be the happiest who early in life are obliged
+or encouraged to prepare themselves for some definite work. But however
+this may be, they should all from the first realise the bigness of their
+position, and see themselves as citizens of a great country, with a
+great work to do for God in the world.</p>
+
+<p>It may be that they will be called to what seems the most natural work
+for women&mdash;to have homes of their own and to realise their citizenship
+as wives and mothers, doing surely the most important work that any
+citizen can fulfil. Or they may have either for a time or for life some
+definite work of their own to do. Everywhere the work of women is being
+increasingly called for in all departments of life, yet women do not
+always show the enterprise to embark on new lines or the energy to
+develop their capacities in such a way as to fit them to do the work
+that lies before them.</p>
+
+<p>It is so easy after schooldays are ended to enjoy all the pleasant
+things that lie around, to slip into what comes easiest, to wait for
+something to turn up, and so really to lose the fruits of past education
+because it is not carried into practice or used as a means for further
+development.</p>
+
+<p>This is the critical period of a girl's life. For a boy every one
+considers the choice of a definite profession imperative; for a girl,
+unless necessity compels it, the general idea is that it would be a pity
+for her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>to take to any work, let her at any rate wait a bit and enjoy
+herself, then probably something will turn up. This might be all very
+well if the waiting time were used for further education, for
+preparation for the work of life. But in too many cases studies begun at
+school are carried no further, habits of work are lost, and intellectual
+development comes to a standstill.</p>
+
+<p>We are seeing increasingly in every department of life how much depends
+upon the home and upon the training given by the mother, and yet it does
+not seem as if girls as a rule prepared themselves seriously for that
+high position. The mother should be the first, the chief religious
+teacher of her children, but most women are content to be vaguely
+religious themselves whilst hardly knowing what they themselves believe,
+and feeling perfectly incapable of teaching others.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">How to Begin</div>
+
+<p>Yet how are they to fulfil the call which will surely come to them to
+teach either their own children or those of others if they have not
+troubled to gain religious knowledge for themselves? The Bible, which
+becomes each day a more living book because of all the light thrown upon
+it by recent research, should be known and studied as the great central
+source of teaching on all that concerns the relations between God and
+man. But sometimes we are told that it is less well known now than
+formerly, when real knowledge of it was much more difficult.</p>
+
+<p>Women are said to be naturally more religious than men, but that natural
+religion will have all the stronger influence the more it is founded on
+knowledge, and so is able to stand alone, apart from the stimulus of
+beautiful services or inspiring preaching. Women who follow their
+husbands into the distant parts of the earth, and are called to be
+home-makers in new lands, may find themselves not only compelled to
+stand alone, but called upon to help to maintain the religious life in
+others. They will not be able to do this if, when they had the
+opportunity, they neglected to lay sure foundations for their own
+religious life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>These thoughts may seem to lead us far away from the occupations and
+interests of girlhood; but they emphasise what is the important
+thing&mdash;the need to recognise the years of girlhood as years of
+preparation. This is not to take away from the joy of life. The more we
+learn to find joy in all the beauty of life, in books, in art, in
+nature, the more permanent sources of joy we are laying up for the
+future. We must not starve our natures; we should see that every part of
+ourselves is alive and vigorous.</p>
+
+<p>It is because so many women really hardly live at all that their lives
+seem so dull and colourless. They have never taken the trouble to
+develop great parts of themselves, and in consequence they do not notice
+all the beautiful and interesting things in the world around them. They
+have not learnt to use all their faculties, so they are unfit to do the
+work which they might do for the good of others.</p>
+
+<p>Many girls have dreams of the great things they would like to do. But
+they do not know how to begin, and so they are restless and
+discontented. The first thing to do is to train themselves, to do every
+little thing that comes along as well as they can, so as to fit
+themselves for the higher work that may come. It is worth while for them
+to go on with their studies, to train their minds to habits of accurate
+thought, to gain knowledge of all kinds, for all this may not only prove
+useful in the future, but will make them themselves better instruments
+for any work that may come to them to do. It is very worth while to
+learn to be punctual and orderly in little things, to gain business-like
+habits, even to keep accounts and to answer notes promptly&mdash;all these
+will be useful in the greater business of life. We must be tried in
+little things before we can be worthy to do big things.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile doors are always opening to us whilst we are young, only very
+often we do not think it worth while to go in at the open door because
+it strikes us as dull or unimportant and not the great opportunity <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>that
+we hoped for. But those who go in at the door that opens, that take up
+the dull little job that offers, and do it as well as they can, will
+find, first that it is not so dull as they thought, and then that it
+leads on to something else, and new doors open, and interests grow
+wider, and more important work is offered. Those who will not go in, but
+choose to wait till some more interesting or inviting door opens, will
+find that opportunities grow fewer, that doors are closed instead of
+opened, and life grows narrower instead of wider.</p>
+
+<div><a name="the" id="the"></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 250px;">
+<img src="images/son.jpg" width="250" height="400" alt="&quot;THE SON OF MAN CAME NOT TO BE MINISTERED UNTO, BUT TO MINISTER.&quot;" title="&quot;THE SON OF MAN CAME NOT TO BE MINISTERED UNTO, BUT TO MINISTER.&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE SON OF MAN CAME NOT TO BE MINISTERED UNTO, BUT TO MINISTER.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="sidenote">All the Difference</div>
+
+<p>It is of course the motive that inspires us that makes all the
+difference. To have once realised life, not as an opportunity for
+self-pleasing, but as an opportunity for service, makes us willing to do
+the small tasks gladly, that they may fit us for the higher tasks. It
+would seem as if to us now came with ever-increasing clearness the call
+to realise more truly throughout the world the great message that Christ
+proclaimed of the brotherhood of men. It is this sense of brotherhood
+that stirs us to make the conditions of life sweet and wholesome for
+every child in our own land, that rouses us to think of the needs of
+those who have never heard the Christian message of love. As we feel
+what it means to know God as our Father, we learn to see all men as our
+brothers, and hence to hear the call to serve them.</p>
+
+
+<p>It is not necessary to go far to answer this call; brothers and sisters
+who need our love and help are round our doors, even under our own roof
+at home; this sense of brotherhood must be felt with all those with whom
+we come in contact. To some may come the call to realise what it means
+to recognise our brotherhood with peoples of other race and other
+beliefs. Even within our own Empire there are, especially in India,
+countless multitudes waiting for the truth of the gospel to bring light
+and hope into their lives. Do we feel as we should the call that comes
+to us from our sisters the women of India? They are needing teachers,
+doctors, nurses, help that only other <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>women can bring them. Is it not
+worth while for those who are looking out into life, wondering what it
+will mean to them, to consider whether the call may not come to them to
+give themselves to the service of their sisters in the East?</p>
+
+<p>But however this may be, make yourselves ready to hear whatever call may
+come. There is some service wanted from you; to give that service will
+be your greatest blessing, your deepest joy. Whether you are able to
+give that service worthily will depend upon the use you make of the time
+of waiting and preparation. It must be done, not for your own
+gratification, but because you are the followers of One who came, "not
+to be ministered unto, but to minister."</p>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>My Dangerous Maniac</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Leslie M. Oyler</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">A very singular adventure befell two young people, who
+entertained a stranger unawares.</div>
+
+<p>that makes you feel how good it is to be alive and young&mdash;and,
+incidently, to hope that the tennis-courts won't be too dry.</p>
+
+<p>You see Gerald, my brother, and I were invited to an American tournament
+for that afternoon, which we were both awfully keen about; then mother
+and father were coming home in the evening, after having been away a
+fortnight, and, though on the whole I had got on quite nicely with the
+housekeeping, it <i>would</i> be a relief to be able to consult mother again.
+Things have a knack of not going so smoothly when mothers are away, as I
+daresay you've noticed.</p>
+
+<p>I had been busy making strawberry jam, which had turned out very well,
+all except the last lot. Gerald called me to see his new ferret just
+after I had put the sugar in, and, by the time I got back, the jam had,
+most disagreeably, got burnt.</p>
+
+<p>That's just the way with cooking. You stand and watch a thing for ages,
+waiting for it to boil; but immediately you go out of the room it
+becomes <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>hysterical and boils all over the stove; so it is borne in on
+me that you must "keep your eye on the ball," otherwise the saucepan,
+when cooking.</p>
+
+<p>However, when things are a success it feels quite worth the trouble.
+Gerald insisted on "helping" me once, rather against cook's wish, and
+made some really delicious meringues, only he <i>would</i> eat them before
+they were properly baked!</p>
+
+<p>The gong rang, and I ran down to breakfast; Gerald was late, as usual,
+but he came at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's a letter from Jack," I remarked, passing it across; "see what he
+says."</p>
+
+<p>Jack was one of our oldest friends; he went to school with Gerald, and
+they were then both at Oxford together. He had always spent his holidays
+with us as he had no mother, and his father, who was a most brilliant
+scholar, lived in India, engaged in research work; but this vac. Mr.
+Marriott was in England, and Jack and he were coming to stay with us the
+following day.</p>
+<div><a name="gerald" id="gerald"></a></div>
+<div class="figright" style="width: 245px;">
+<img src="images/3.jpg" width="245" height="400" alt="GERALD LOOKED PUZZLED." title="GERALD LOOKED PUZZLED." />
+<span class="caption">GERALD LOOKED PUZZLED.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Gerald read the letter through twice, and then looked puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"Which day were they invited for, Margaret?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow, of course, the 13th."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, they're coming this evening by the 7.2."</p>
+
+<p>I looked over his shoulder; it <i>was</i> the 12th undoubtedly. "And mother
+and father aren't coming till the 9.30," I sighed; "I wish they were
+going to be here in time for dinner to entertain Mr. Marriott; he's sure
+to be eccentric&mdash;clever people always are."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," agreed Gerald, "he'll talk miles above our heads; but never mind,
+there'll be old Jack."</p>
+
+<p>Cook and I next discussed the menu. I rather thought curry should figure
+in it, as Mr. Marriott came from India; but cook overruled me, saying it
+was "such nasty hot stuff for this weather, and English curry wouldn't
+be like Indian curry either."</p>
+
+<p>When everything was in readiness for our guests<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> Gerald and I went to
+the Prescotts', who were giving the tournament.</p>
+
+<p>We had some splendid games, and Gerald was still playing in an exciting
+match when I found that the Marriotts' train was nearly due. Of course
+he couldn't leave off, so I said that I would meet them and take them
+home; we only lived about a quarter of a mile from the station, and
+generally walked.</p>
+
+<p>I couldn't find my racquet for some time, and consequently had a race
+with the train, which luckily ended in a dead heat, for I reached the
+platform just as it steamed in.</p>
+
+<p>The few passengers quickly dispersed, but there was no sign of Jack; a
+tall, elderly man, wrapped in a thick overcoat, in spite of the hot
+evening, stood forlornly alone. I was just wondering if he could be
+Jack's father when he came up to me and said, "Are you Margaret?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I have often heard my boy speak of you," he said, looking extremely
+miserable.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Jack does not Come</div>
+
+<p>"But isn't he coming?" I cried.</p>
+
+<p>He replied "No" in such a hopeless voice and sighed so heavily that I
+was beginning to feel positively depressed, when he changed the subject
+by informing me that his bag had been left behind but was coming on by a
+later train, so, giving instructions for it to be sent up directly it
+arrived, I piloted him out of the station.</p>
+
+<p>I had expected him to be eccentric, but he certainly was the oddest man
+I had ever met; he seemed perfectly obsessed by the loss of his bag, and
+would talk of nothing else, though I was longing to know why Jack hadn't
+come. The absence of his dress clothes seemed to worry him intensely. In
+vain I told him that we need not change for dinner; he said he must, and
+wouldn't be comforted.</p>
+
+<p>"How is Jack?" I asked at last; "why didn't he come with you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He looked at me for a moment with an expression of the deepest grief,
+and then said quietly, "Jack is dead."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Dead?</i>" I almost shouted. "Jack dead! You can't mean it!"</p>
+
+<p>But he only repeated sadly, "Jack is dead," and walked on.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed incredible; Jack, whom we had seen a few weeks before so full
+of life and vigour, Jack, who had ridden with us, played tennis, and
+been the leading spirit at our rat hunts, it was too horrible to think
+of!</p>
+
+<p>I felt quite stunned, but the sight of the poor old man who had lost his
+only child roused me.</p>
+
+<p>"I am more sorry than I can say," I ventured; "it must be a terrible
+blow to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he said; "you, who knew him well, can realise it more than
+any one; but it was all for the best&mdash;I felt that when I did it."</p>
+
+<p>"Did what?" I inquired, thinking that he was straying from the point.</p>
+
+<p>"When I shot him through the head," he replied laconically, as if it
+were the most natural thing in the world.</p>
+
+<p>If he had suddenly pointed a pistol at <i>my</i> head I could not have been
+more astonished; I was absolutely petrified with horror, for the thought
+flashed into my brain that Jack's father must be mad!</p>
+
+<p>His peculiar expression had aroused my curiosity at the station, and his
+next remark confirmed my suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, he showed unmistakable symptoms of going mad&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>(I had heard that madmen invariably think every one around them is mad,
+and that they themselves are sane.)</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;&mdash;so I felt it my duty to shoot him; it was all over in a moment."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Jack!" I cried involuntarily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he answered, "but I should do just the same again if the occasion
+arose."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And he looked at me fixedly.</p>
+
+<p>I felt horribly frightened. Did he think I was mad? And I fell to
+wondering, when he put his hand in his pocket, whether he had the
+revolver there. We had reached our garden gate by this time, where, to
+my infinite relief, we were joined by Gerald, flushed and triumphant
+after winning his match.</p>
+
+<p>After an agonised aside "Don't ask about Jack," I murmured an
+introduction, and we all walked up to the house together. In the hall I
+managed to tell Gerald of our dreadful position, and implored him to
+humour the madman as much as possible until we could form some plan for
+his capture.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll give him dinner just as if nothing has happened, and after that
+I'll arrange something," said Gerald hopefully; "don't you worry."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Knife Trick</div>
+
+<p>Never shall I forget that dinner! We were on tenterhooks the whole time,
+and it made me shudder to see how Mr. Marriott caressed the knives. I
+could scarcely prevent myself screaming when he held one up, and,
+feeling the blade carefully with his finger, said:</p>
+
+<p>"I rather thought of doing this little trick to-night, if you would like
+it; it is very convincing and doesn't take long."</p>
+
+<p>I remembered his remark, "it was all over in a moment," and trembled;
+but Gerald tactfully drew his attention to something else, and dinner
+proceeded peaceably; but he had a horrible fondness for that knife, and,
+when dessert was put on the table, kept it in his hand, "to show us the
+trick afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>I stayed in the dining-room when we had finished; I couldn't bear to
+leave Gerald, and he and I exchanged apprehensive glances when Mr.
+Marriott refused to smoke, giving as his reason that he wanted a steady
+hand for his work later.</p>
+
+<p>He worried ceaselessly about his bag (I began to think the revolver must
+be there), and when, at last, it came he almost ran into the hall to
+open it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then Gerald had a brilliant inspiration. Seizing the bag, he carried it
+up to his room, which was at the top of the house. Mr. Marriott eagerly
+followed, and when he was safely in we shut the door and bolted it
+securely on the outside.</p>
+
+<p>"That was a good move, Gerald," I cried, heaving a sigh of relief, "we
+can keep him there till mother and father come home; they can't be very
+long now; perhaps he won't notice he's locked in for some time."</p>
+
+<p>But unfortunately he <i>did</i> notice, for very soon we heard him rattling
+the door handle, and when no one came (for we had had to explain matters
+to the maids, whereat they had all rushed, panic-stricken, to the
+servants' hall), he started banging and shouting louder than ever.</p>
+
+<p>It was an awful time for us; every minute I expected him to burst the
+door open and come tearing downstairs. Gerald wanted to go up and try to
+pacify him, but I told him I was too frightened to be left, which, I
+knew, was the only way of preventing him.</p>
+
+<p>We walked down the garden to see if mother and father were in sight, and
+then&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Awfully sorry we missed the train," said a cheerful voice, and <i>Jack</i>,
+followed by another figure, came through the gate!</p>
+
+<p>"You aren't dead then?" was all I could manage to gasp.</p>
+
+<p>"No, rather not! Very much alive. Here's the pater; but first, tell me,
+why should I be dead?"</p>
+
+<p>Gerald and I began to speak simultaneously, and in the midst of our
+explanations mother and father arrived, so we had to tell them all over
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"The question is, who <i>is</i> your lunatic?" said father, "and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But just at that moment we heard frantic shouts from Gerald's bedroom
+window, and found the sham Mr. Marriott leaning out of it in a state of
+frenzy.</p>
+
+<p>He was absolutely furious; but we gathered from his incoherent remarks
+that he was getting very late <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>for a conjuring performance which he had
+promised to give at a friend's house. He vowed that there was some
+conspiracy to prevent him going there at all; first his bag was lost,
+then some one pretended to be his friend's daughter, whom he had never
+seen, and finally he was locked in a room with no means of escape!</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Our Little Mistake</div>
+
+<p>Then, and only then, did we realise our mistake! The others seemed to
+find it very amusing and shrieked with laughter, but the humour of it
+didn't strike Gerald and me any more than it did the irate conjuror, who
+was promptly released with profuse apologies, and sent in our car to his
+destination. It transpired that his conversation which had so alarmed me
+referred only to a favourite dog of his, and I, of course, had
+unconsciously misled Gerald.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Marriott proved to be most interesting and amusing, anything but
+eccentric; but I shall <i>never</i> hear the last of my mistake, and to this
+day he and Jack tease me unmercifully about my "dangerous maniac!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Jim Rattray, Trooper</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Kelso B. Johnson</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">A story of the Canadian North-West Mounted Police, founded on
+fact.</div>
+
+<p>"Our Lady of the Snows" resents the title. It is so liable, she
+complains, to give strangers an utterly wrong idea of her climate. And
+yet, at times, when the blizzard piles the swirling snow over fence and
+hollow, until boundaries are lost, and the bewildered wayfarer knows not
+which way to turn, he is apt to think, if he is in a condition to think
+at all, that there is some justice in the description.</p>
+
+<p>But there was no sign of the stern side of nature as Jim Rattray made
+his way westward. The sun shone on the wide, rolling plains, the fresh
+green of the pasture lands, and the young wheat; the blue sky covered
+all with a dome of heaven's own blue, and Jim's heart rejoiced within
+him.</p>
+
+<p>A strapping young fellow was Jim, not long out from the Old Country&mdash;the
+sort of young fellow whose bright eyes and fresh open face do one good
+to look at. North-country farming in England was the life to which he
+had looked forward; vigorous sports and hard work in the keen air of the
+Cumberland fells had knit his frame and hardened his muscles; and his
+parents, as they noticed with pride their boy's sturdy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>limbs, and
+listened in wonder to the bits of learning he brought home from school,
+had looked forward half-unconsciously to the days when he in his turn
+would be master of the farm which Rattrays had held for generations.</p>
+
+<p>Bad days, however, had come for English farmers; the Cumbrian farm had
+to be given up, and Jim's father never recovered from the shock of
+having to leave it. Within a few years Jim was an orphan, alone in the
+world.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Great New World</div>
+
+<p>There was nothing to keep him in England; why should he not try his
+fortune in the great new world beyond the seas, which was crying out for
+stout hearts and hands to develop its treasures? He was young and
+strong: Canada was a land of great possibilities. There was room and a
+chance for all there. His life was before him&mdash;what might he not
+achieve!</p>
+
+<p>"What do you propose doing?" asked a fellow-voyager as they landed.</p>
+
+<p>"I really don't quite know," replied Jim. "As soon as possible I must
+get employment on a farm, I suppose, but I hardly know how to set about
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"There won't be much difficulty about that. All you have to do is to let
+it be known at the bureau that you want farm work, and you'll find
+plenty of farmers willing to take you&mdash;and glad to get you," he added,
+as his eyes roved over Jim's stalwart figure. "But have you thought of
+the police?"</p>
+
+<p>"The police? No&mdash;what have I done?"</p>
+
+<p>His friend laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean the North-West Mounted Police. Why don't you try to join it? If
+they'll take you, you'll take to the life like a duck to water. You
+could join, if you liked, for a short term of years; you would roam
+about over hundreds of miles of country, and get a general knowledge of
+it such as you could hardly get otherwise; then, if you'd like to settle
+down to farming or ranching, the information you had picked up would be
+useful."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Jim pondered over the advice, and finally resolved to follow it. He
+hoped to make his way in the world, and the more knowledge he could gain
+the better.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later saw him on his way westward, his heart bounding with
+the exhilarating beauty of the scene. Already the life at home seemed
+cramped; the wideness and freedom of this great new country intoxicated
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Do we want a recruit? No, we don't!" said the sergeant at Regina, to
+whom Jim applied. "Stay a bit, though; you needn't be in such a hurry.
+Just out from the Old Country, I suppose. Do you know anything about
+horses? Can you ride?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Jim humbly.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's try you," and the sergeant led the way into the riding-school.
+"We call this one 'Brown Billy,'" he remarked, indicating a
+quiet-looking horse. "Think you can sit on him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try," said Jim.</p>
+
+<p>Riding Brown Billy seemed ridiculously easy at first. Suddenly, however,
+without the slightest warning, Jim found himself gripping with his knees
+the sides of an animal that was dancing wildly on its hind legs.</p>
+
+<p>Jim caught a grin on the faces of the sergeant and some of the other
+bystanders, and setting his teeth he held on grimly. This was evidently
+a favourite trick of Brown Billy's, and the sergeant knew it. Well, they
+should see that British grit was not to be beaten.</p>
+
+<p>Seemingly conquered, Brown Billy dropped again on all-fours. Scarcely
+had Jim begun to congratulate himself on his victory when Billy's head
+went down between his forelegs, his hind-quarters rose, and Jim was
+neatly deposited on hands and knees a few feet ahead.</p>
+
+<p>The grins were noticeably broader as Jim rose, crimson with vexation.</p>
+
+<p>"Thought you could sit him, eh?" laughed the sergeant. "Well, you kept
+on longer than some I've <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>seen, and you didn't try to hug him around the
+neck, either. You're not the first old Billy has played that trick on,
+by a long way. You'll make a rider yet! Come along and let us see what
+else you can do."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Enrolled</div>
+
+<p>As a result of the searching examination Jim underwent he found himself
+enrolled as a recruit. He was glad to find that there were among his new
+companions others who had fallen victims to Brown Billy's wiles, and who
+in consequence thought none the worse of him for his adventure.</p>
+
+<p>Into the work that followed Jim threw himself with all his might. Never
+had instructors a more willing pupil, and it was a proud day for Jim
+when he was passed out of the training-school as a qualified trooper.</p>
+
+<p>Jim found himself one of an exceedingly small party located apparently a
+hundred miles from anywhere. Their nearest neighbours were a tribe of
+Indians, whose mixture of childishness and cunning shrewdness made them
+an interesting study. These gave little trouble; they had more or less
+accepted the fact that the white man was now in possession of the
+domains of their forefathers, and that their best course was to behave
+themselves. When the presence of the police was required, Jim was almost
+amused at the docility with which his directions were generally obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>He delighted in the life&mdash;the long rides, the occasional camping out on
+the plains far from any dwelling, the knowledge that he must rely upon
+himself. He felt more of a man; his powers of endurance increased until
+he took a positive pleasure in exercising them to their fullest possible
+extent. Meanwhile, nothing more exciting happened than the tracking and
+capture of an occasional horse-thief.</p>
+
+<p>Winter set in early and hard. Snow fell until it lay feet deep, and
+still the stormy winds brought more. One day the sergeant came in with a
+troubled face.</p>
+
+<p>"Wightman's horses have stampeded," he announced. "They'll be gone coons
+if they're not rounded up and brought in."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Let me go, sergeant!" said Jim.</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant shook his head. "It's no work for a young hand. The oldest
+might lose his bearings in weather like this."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me go, sergeant!" Jim repeated. "If those horses are to be brought
+in I can do it." There was a world of pleading in his tone, and the
+sergeant guessed the reason.</p>
+
+<p>"I meant no reflection on you, my lad," said he. "It's no weather for
+anybody to be out in. All the same, if those horses aren't to be a dead
+loss, somebody's got to round them up."</p>
+
+<p>Finally Jim got his way. In a temporary lull about midday he set out on
+his stout horse, well wrapped up in the thick woollen garments provided
+for such times as these, and determined to bring in those horses, or
+perish in the attempt.</p>
+
+<p>"They went off sou'-west," shouted the sergeant. "I should&mdash;&mdash;" A
+furious blast as the gale recommenced carried away whatever else he
+might have said, and Jim was alone with his good horse on the prairie.</p>
+
+<p>There was no hesitancy in his mind. South-west he would push as hard as
+he could go. The animals had probably not gone far; he must soon come up
+with them, and the sooner the better.</p>
+
+<p>Gallantly his steed stepped out through the deepening snowdrifts. Fain
+would the sensible animal have turned and made his way back to his
+stable, but Jim's credit was at stake, and no turning back was allowed.
+Mile after mile was covered; where could those animals be in this storm?</p>
+
+<p>Ha! a sudden furious rush of wind brought Jim's horse nearly to its
+knees. How the gale roared, and how the snow drove in his face! Up and
+on again, south-west after those horses!</p>
+
+<p>But which <i>was</i> the south-west? The daylight had completely faded; not a
+gleam showed where the sun had set. Jim felt for his pocket-compass; it
+was gone! The wind, blowing apparently from every <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>quarter in
+succession, was no guide at all. Nothing was visible more than a yard
+away; nothing within that distance but driving snowflakes. Any tracks of
+the runaways would be covered up in a few moments; in any case there was
+no light to discern them.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Lost!</div>
+
+<p>However, it was of no use to stand still. By pressing on he might
+overtake his quarry, and after fright had driven them away, instinct
+might lead them home. That was now the only chance of safety. Would he
+ever find them?</p>
+
+<p>Deeper and deeper sank his horse into the snow; harder and harder it
+became to raise its hoofs clear for the next step. Snorting with fear,
+and trembling in every limb, the gallant beast struggled on. He <i>must</i>
+go on! To stop would be fatal. Benumbed as he was by the intense cold,
+bewildered by the storm, with hand and voice Jim cheered on his steed,
+and nobly it responded.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly it sank under him. A hollow, treacherously concealed by the
+snow, had received them both into its chilly depths.</p>
+
+<p>"Up again, old boy!" cried Jim, springing from the saddle, and tugging
+at the rein, sinking to the waist in the soft snow as he did so. "Now
+then, one more try!"</p>
+
+<p>The faithful horse struggled desperately to respond to the words. But
+its strength was spent; its utmost exertions would not suffice to
+extricate it. The soft snow gave way under its hoofs; deeper and deeper
+it sank. With a despairing scream it made a last futile effort, then it
+stretched its neck along the snow, and with a sob lay down to die.
+Further efforts to move it would be thrown away, and Jim knew it. In a
+few minutes it would be wrapped in its winding-sheet.</p>
+
+<p>With a lump in his throat Jim turned away&mdash;whither? His own powers had
+nearly ebbed out. Of what use was it to battle further against the gale,
+when he knew not in which direction to go?</p>
+
+<p>With a sharp setting of the teeth he set himself <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>to stimulate into
+activity his benumbed faculties. Where was he? What was he doing there?
+Ah, yes, he was after those stampeded horses. Well, he would never come
+up with them now. He had done his best, and he had failed.</p>
+
+<p>Taking out his notebook, as well as his benumbed powers would let him,
+Jim scrawled a few words in the darkness. The powers of nature had been
+too strong for him. What was a man to set himself against that tempest?</p>
+
+<p>But stay! there was One stronger than the gale. Man was beyond hearing,
+but was not God everywhere? Now, if ever, was the time to call upon Him.</p>
+
+<p>No words would come but the familiar "Our Father," which Jim had said
+every night for longer than he could remember. He had no power to think
+out any other petition. "Our Father," he muttered drowsily, "which art
+in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done. . . ."</p>
+
+<p>The murmur ceased; the speaker was asleep.</p>
+
+<p>They found him a few days later, when the snow had ceased to fall, and
+the wind swept over the prairie, stripping off the deadly white
+covering, and leaving the khaki jacket a conspicuous object. The
+sergeant saw it, and pointed&mdash;he could not trust his voice to speak.
+Eagerly the little band bent over the body of their comrade.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, he's smiling! And see here! he's been writing something in his
+notebook. What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>Reverently they took the book from the brown hand, and the sergeant read
+the words aloud:</p>
+
+<p>"Lost, horse dead. Am trying to push on. Have done my best."</p>
+
+<p>"That he did. There was good stuff in him, lads, and perhaps he was
+wanted up aloft!"</p>
+
+<p>A solemn hush held the party. "'I did my best,'" said a trooper softly
+at length. "Ah, well, it'll be a good job for all of us, if when our
+time comes we can say that with as much truth as he!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Mary's Stepping Aside</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Edith C. Kenyon</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Mary sacrificed herself to help another. The renunciation in
+time brought reward.</div>
+
+<p>"How very foolish of you! So unbusinesslike!" cried Mrs. Croft angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"I could not do anything else, Hetty. Poor Ethel is worse off than we
+are. She has her widowed mother to help; they are all so poor, and it
+was such a struggle for Mrs. Forrest to pay that &pound;160 for Ethel's two
+years' training in the Physical Culture College. You know, when Ethel
+and I entered for training, there was a good demand for teachers of
+physical culture, but now, alas! the supply exceeds the demand, and it
+has been such a great trouble to Ethel that she could not get a post,
+and begin to repay her mother for the outlay. She failed every time she
+tried to secure an appointment; the luck seemed always against her. And
+now she was next to me, and I had only to step aside to enable her to
+receive the appointment."</p>
+
+<p>"And you did so! That is just like you, Mary. You will never get on in
+the world. What will people say? They are already wondering why my
+clever sister is not more successful."</p>
+
+<p>"Does it really matter what people think?" questioned Mary, and there
+was a far-away look in her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>blue eyes, as she glanced through the window
+at the wide stretch of moorland to be seen from it.</p>
+
+<p>She had been to London to try to secure an appointment as teacher of
+physical culture at a large ladies' college. There were several
+applicants for the appointment, which was worth &pound;100 a year and board
+and lodging, not bad for a commencement, and she was successful.</p>
+
+<p>The lady principal came out to tell her so, and mentioned that Ethel
+Forrest, her college friend, was the next to her, adding that the latter
+appeared to be a remarkably nice girl and very capable. In a moment, as
+Mary realised how terrible poor Ethel's disappointment would be, she
+resolved to step aside in order that her friend might have the
+appointment.</p>
+
+<p>The lady principal was surprised, and a little offended, but forthwith
+gave Ethel Forrest the post, and Mary was more than repaid by Ethel's
+unbounded gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you what it is to me to obtain this good appointment," she
+said, when they came away together. "Poor mother will now cease to
+deplore the money she could so ill afford to spend on my training. You
+see, it seemed as if she had robbed the younger children for me, and
+that it was money thrown away when she could so ill spare it, but now I
+shall repay her as soon as possible out of my salary, and the children
+will have a chance."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know. That is why I did it," Mary said. "And I am happy in your
+happiness, Ethel darling."</p>
+
+<p>"But I am afraid it is rather irksome for you, living so long with your
+sister and brother-in-law, although they are so well off," Ethel
+remarked, after a while.</p>
+
+<p>"That is a small matter in comparison," Mary said lightly. "And I am so
+happy about you, Ethel, your mother will be so pleased."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to Mary afterwards, when she left Ethel and went by express to
+York, where she took a slow train to the little station on the moors
+near her sister's home, that her heart was as light and happy as if she
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>had received a great gift instead of surrendering an advantage. Truly
+it is more blessed to give than to receive, for there is no joy so pure
+as "the joy of doing kindnesse."</p>
+
+<p>But on her arrival at the house which had been her home since her
+parents died, she found herself being severely blamed for what she had
+done.</p>
+
+<p>In vain Mary reminded her sister that she was not exactly poor, and
+certainly not dependent upon her. Their father had left a very moderate
+income to both his daughters, Hetty the elder, who had married Dr.
+Croft, a country practitioner, and Mary, who, as a sensible modern young
+woman, determined to have a vocation, and go in for the up-to-date work
+of teaching physical culture.</p>
+
+<p>Finding she could make no impression upon her sister, Mrs. Croft
+privately exhorted her husband to speak to Mary about the disputed
+point.</p>
+
+<p>That evening, therefore, after dinner, as they sat round the fire
+chatting, the doctor remarked: "But you know, Mary, it won't do to step
+aside for others to get before you in the battle of life. You owe a duty
+to yourself and&mdash;and your friends."</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite aware of that," Mary replied, "but this was such an
+exceptional case. Ethel Forrest is so poor, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Each for Himself!"</div>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes. But, my dear girl, it is each for himself in this world."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it?" Mary asked, and again there was a wistful, far-away look in her
+blue eyes. With an effort, she pulled herself together, and went on
+softly: "Shall I tell you what I saw as I returned home across the moor
+from the station? The day was nearly over, and the clouds were gathering
+overhead. The wind was rising and falling as it swept across the
+moorland. The rich purple of the heather had gone, and was succeeded by
+dull brown&mdash;sometimes almost grey&mdash;each little floret of the ling, as
+Ruskin said, folding itself into a cross as it was dying. Poor little
+purply-pink petals! They <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>had had their day, they had had their fill of
+sunshine, they had been breathed on by the soft breezes of a genial
+summer, and now all the brightness for them was over; they folded their
+petals, becoming just like a cross as they silently died away. You see,"
+she looked up with a smile, "even the heather knows that the way of
+self-sacrifice is the only way that is worth while."</p>
+
+<p>There was silence for a few minutes. The crimson light from the shaded
+candles fell softly on Mary's face, beautiful in its sincerity and sweet
+wistfulness.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor shook his head. "I should never have got on in life if I had
+acted in that way," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"You are quite too sentimental, Mary," remarked her sister harshly.
+"Why, the world would not go on if we all did as you do. All the same,"
+she added, almost grudgingly, "you are welcome to stay here till you get
+another appointment."</p>
+
+<p>Mary rose and kissed her. "You shan't regret it, Hetty," she said. "I
+will try to help you all I can while I stay, but I may soon get another
+appointment."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Fifteen months afterwards there was great rejoicing in Mrs. Forrest's
+small and overcrowded house in Croydon, because her youngest brother had
+returned from New Zealand with quite a large fortune, which he declared
+gallantly that he was going to share with her.</p>
+
+<p>"Half shall be settled on you and your children, Margaret," he said, "as
+soon as the lawyers can fix it up. You will be able to send your boys to
+Oxford, and give your girls dowries. By the by, how is my old favourite
+Ethel? And what is she doing?"</p>
+
+<p>"She teaches physical culture in a large ladies' college in the West
+End. It is a good appointment. Her salary has been raised; it is now
+&pound;130, with board and lodging."</p>
+
+<p>That did not seem much to the wealthy colonial, but he smiled. "And how
+did she get the post?" he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> "I remember in one of your letters you
+complained that her education had cost a lot, and that she was very
+unlucky about getting anything to do."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Uncle Max</div>
+
+<p>"Yes, it was so, Max. But she owed her success at last to the kindness
+of a friend of hers, who won this appointment, and then stepped aside
+for her to have it."</p>
+
+<p>"Grand!" cried Max Vernon heartily. "What a good friend that was! It is
+a real pleasure to hear of such self-sacrifice in this hard, work-a-day
+world. I should like to know that young woman," he continued. "What is
+she doing now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," replied his sister. "But here comes Ethel. She will tell
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Ethel had come over from the college on purpose to see her uncle, and
+was delighted to welcome him home. He was not more than ten years older
+than herself, there being more than that between him and her mother. His
+success in New Zealand was partly owing to his charming personality,
+which caused him to win the love of his first employer, who adopted him
+as his son and heir some six years before he died, leaving all his money
+to him. Ethel had pleasant memories of her uncle's kindness to her when
+a child.</p>
+
+<p>When hearty greetings had been exchanged between the uncle and niece,
+Margaret Forrest said to her daughter: "I have been telling your uncle
+about your friend Mary Oliver's giving up that appointment for you, and
+he wants to know where she is now, and what she is doing."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, poor Mary!" said Ethel ruefully. "I am really very troubled about
+her. Her sister and brother-in-law lost all their money through that
+recent bank failure, and Dr. Croft took it badly. His losses seemed to
+harden him. Declaring that he could not carry on his practice in the
+country without capital, he sold it and arranged to go to New Zealand,
+though his wife had fallen into ill-health and could not possibly
+accompany him. He went abroad, leaving her in London in wretched
+lodgings. Then Mary gave up her good <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>situation as teacher of physical
+culture in a private school, and took a less remunerative appointment so
+that she might live with her poor sister, and look after her, especially
+at nights. I believe there is a lot of night nursing. It's awfully hard
+and wearing for Mary, but she does it all so willingly, I believe she
+positively enjoys it, though I cannot help being anxious lest her health
+should break down."</p>
+
+<p>"She must not be allowed to do double work like that," said the
+colonial. "No one can work by day and night as well without breaking
+down."</p>
+
+<p>"But what is she to do?" queried Ethel. "She is obliged to earn money
+for their maintenance."</p>
+
+<p>"We might put a little in her way," suggested Vernon.</p>
+
+<p>Ethel shook her head. "She is very sweet," she said, "but I fancy she
+would not like to accept money as a gift."</p>
+
+<p>Max Vernon assented. "Exactly," he said, "I know the sort. But she could
+not object to take it if it were her right."</p>
+
+<div><a name="it" id="it"></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 242px;">
+<img src="images/4.jpg" width="242" height="400" alt="IT WAS UNDER A NOBLE TREE THAT MAX ASKED MARY TO MARRY HIM." title="IT WAS UNDER A NOBLE TREE THAT MAX ASKED MARY TO MARRY HIM." />
+<span class="caption">IT WAS UNDER A NOBLE TREE THAT MAX ASKED MARY TO MARRY HIM.</span>
+</div>
+<p>Margaret Forrest smiled, scenting a romance. "I will have her here to
+tea on her next half-holiday," she said; "then you will see her."</p>
+
+<p>But Vernon could not wait till then. He and Ethel made up a plan that
+they would go to Mrs. Croft's rooms that very evening, in order that he
+might personally thank Mary for her goodness to his niece.</p>
+
+<p>Mary thought she had never seen such a kind, strong face as his, when he
+stood before her expressing his gratitude for what she had done for
+Ethel, and also his sympathy with her troubles, of which Ethel had told
+him.</p>
+
+<p>That was the beginning, and afterwards he was often in her home,
+bringing gifts for the querulous invalid, and, better still, hope for
+the future of her husband, about whom he interested a friend of his, who
+was doing well out in New Zealand, and looking out for a partner with
+some knowledge of medicine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p>It was at a picnic, under a noble tree, that Max asked Mary to marry
+him, and learned to his great joy how fully his love was returned.</p>
+
+<p>Mary thought there was no one like him. So many had come to her for
+help, but only he came to give with both hands, esteeming all he gave as
+nothing if only he could win her smile and her approval.</p>
+
+<p>So it happened that by the time Mrs. Croft had so far recovered as to be
+able to join her husband, her departure was delayed one week, in order
+that she might be present at her sister's wedding.</p>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Not so Foolish after all!</div>
+
+<p>"After all, Mary," she said, when at last she was saying goodbye, "your
+happiness has come to you as a direct result of your kindness to Ethel
+Forrest in stepping aside for her to have that appointment. You were
+therefore not so foolish after all."</p>
+
+<p>Mary laughed joyously. "I never thought I was," she said. "There's an
+old-fashioned saying, you know, that 'it is more blessed to give than to
+receive.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A Race for Life</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Lucie E. Jackson</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">How a plucky girl averted a terrible danger from marauding
+Redskins.</div>
+
+<p>The McArthurs were fortunate people. Everybody said that Mr. McArthur
+must have been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, for
+though he had come to Tulaska with barely a red cent in his pocket,
+everything he attempted succeeded. His land increased, his cattle
+increased, his home grew in proportion to his land, his wife was a
+perfect manager, and his only child was noted for her beauty and daring.</p>
+
+<p>A tall, graceful girl was Rosalind McArthur, with her mother's fine skin
+and Irish blue eyes, her father's strength of mind and fearless bearing.
+At nineteen years of age she could ride as straight as any man, could
+paddle her canoe as swiftly as any Indian, and could shoot as well as
+any settler in the land.</p>
+
+<p>Added to all this, McArthur was a good neighbour, a kind friend, a
+genial companion, and a succourer of those in need of help. Thus when it
+became reported that the Indians had been making a raid upon a small
+settlement on the borders, and it was likely their next incursion would
+be directed against McArthur's clearing, the owners of small holdings
+declared their intention to stand shoulder to shoulder, and fight, if
+need be, for their more prosperous neighbour.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I think it must have been a false report. Here have we been waiting,
+gun in hand, for the last two months, and not a sign of a Redskin's
+tomahawk have we seen," said Rosalind cheerfully, as she and her parents
+rose from their evening meal.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God if it be so," returned her mother.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll not slacken our vigilance, however," was McArthur's answer.</p>
+
+<p>At that instant a rapping at the house door was heard, and McArthur
+rose.</p>
+
+<p>"It must be Frank Robertson. He'll probably want a shake-down, wife."</p>
+
+<p>"He can have it if he wants it," was Mrs. McArthur's cordial answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Many thanks, but he won't trespass on your hospitality," said the
+new-comer, a tall, handsome young settler, entering as he spoke. "No,
+McArthur, I cannot stay. I have come but for five minutes on my way back
+to the village."</p>
+
+<p>"You can at least sit down," said McArthur, pulling forward a chair.
+"What is the latest news?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, beyond the report that the Indians appear to have shifted
+themselves elsewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that is news," said Rosalind, looking up with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"You say, 'appear to have shifted themselves,'" said McArthur. "I shall
+still keep on the defensive. I wouldn't trust a Redskin for a good
+deal."</p>
+
+<p>"True enough," was the answer. "McArthur, whom could you send to the
+village for need at a critical time?"</p>
+
+<p>"I doubt if I could spare a man. Every hand would be wanted, every rifle
+needed, for I know not in what numbers the Redskins might come."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"I could go!"</div>
+
+<p>"I could ride to the village," announced Rosalind calmly. "Golightly and
+I would cover the ground in no time."</p>
+
+<p>"You, my darling!" Mrs. McArthur ejaculated in horror.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>McArthur waved his daughter's words aside.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not know, my child, what danger you would court."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, Miss McArthur is out of the question," said the young man,
+and smiled as Rosalind darted an indignant glance at him.</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, I am at your service if you need me," he continued. "I
+trust I may not be called out for such a purpose, but if I am, I and my
+rifle are at your disposal."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, Robertson, you are a good fellow," returned McArthur heartily,
+grasping the young man's hand.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes he rose to go. Rosalind accompanied him to the house
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Robertson," she said abruptly, as soon as they were out of hearing,
+"which would be the shortest cut to the village? By the woods or by the
+river?" He looked keenly at her.</p>
+
+<p>"You meant what you said just now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I meant it. I&mdash;I would do anything to save my father's and
+mother's lives, and their property, which father has secured by dint of
+so much labour."</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand in his.</p>
+
+<p>"Rosalind," he said softly, "if anything happened to you, my life would
+be of no worth to me."</p>
+
+<p>She flushed all over her fair skin.</p>
+
+<p>"It is better to be prepared for an emergency," she answered gently,
+"and I do not think I would run such a great risk as you and my father
+think."</p>
+
+<p>"You do not know the Redskin," was the grave answer.</p>
+
+<p>"You heard my father say he couldn't spare a man. How much more use I
+would be if I brought help than stayed here and perhaps shot a couple of
+Indians, who might overpower us by their numbers. I was wondering if
+Golightly and the woods would be a shorter way than my canoe and the
+river?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He had both her hands in his, and was looking down into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"The woods and Golightly would be the swiftest way to communicate with
+us in the village."</p>
+
+<p>"Then if need be I shall do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Take the right-hand track straight through the wood, and God protect
+you, Rosalind. My house will be the first one you will come to. Let me
+be the first to spring to your aid. No man will step into the stirrup
+with greater alacrity than I. But, please God, there may be no need for
+you to go."</p>
+
+<p>He lifted her hands to his lips and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Two days passed and nothing of moment happened. But on the evening of
+the third, two men in McArthur's employ entered the house breathless
+with excitement. Feathertop&mdash;an Indian chief noted for the number of
+scalps which adorned his person&mdash;had been seen in the vicinity of the
+small settlement.</p>
+
+<p>McArthur, with a grim fixedness of countenance, saw to the priming of
+his rifle for the fiftieth time; and Rosalind, with her father's
+courage, examined her own weapon, which she had resolved to take with
+her for safety if Golightly had to be requisitioned.</p>
+
+<p>"Rosalind, those chaps will be on us to-night or to-morrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>It was McArthur who spoke, and Rosalind knew that her own misgivings had
+taken root also within her father's mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Because of Feathertop?" she asked bravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He is never lurking about unless he means business."</p>
+
+<p>"Could David and Jim have been misinformed?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, father, I shall ride to the village."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Rosalind's Resolve</div>
+
+<p>McArthur looked at his daughter. He saw her face, he saw her figure.
+Both were alive with determination and courage.</p>
+
+<p>"Rosalind, you will kill your mother if you attempt to do such a
+thing."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't tell her unless you are obliged. It is to save her that I do it.
+Give her a rifle&mdash;keep her employed&mdash;let her think I am with some of the
+neighbours. Father, we do not know if we shall be outnumbered. If we
+are, what will happen? All your cattle will go&mdash;your whole property will
+be ruined, and, worse than all put together, we shall probably lose our
+lives in a horrible manner."</p>
+
+<p>"I acknowledge all that you say, but one of the men must go. You with
+your rifle can take his place, and do just as much execution as he
+can&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>David put his head in at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"We've brought all the live-stock as close to the house as possible. Jim
+has been stealing round the plantation by the river, and says he has
+distinctly seen three Redskins on the other side of the river. We must
+be prepared for an attack this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"David, can you get me Golightly without attracting attention? I am
+going to ride him at once to the village."</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy on us!" exclaimed David. "Is there no one but you to do that?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. You and all the rest must defend my father and mother. I shall keep
+on this side of the river, and will go through the wood. If I go at once
+I may prevent an attack. David, every minute is of value. Fetch me
+Golightly. Father, I am not of such importance as the men here, but I
+can ride, and I can defend myself with my rifle if need be."</p>
+
+<p>"Then God go with you, my child."</p>
+
+<p>Only McArthur, and David, and the moon saw Rosalind spring to her seat
+on Golightly's back. Only the moon saw her with flushed cheeks and
+beating heart riding for life through the trees of the forest. If only
+she could get clear of the first two or three miles, she was safe to
+reach her destination in time.</p>
+
+<p>The track was clearly discernible except when the swiftly-flying clouds
+obscured the moon's light. The soughing of the wind in the tree-tops,
+together with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>the soft springy turf, helped to somewhat deaden the
+sound of Golightly's hoofs. The good horse scented danger in the air and
+in the tone of his mistress's voice, and with true instinct galloped
+through the wood, conscious of the caressing finger-tips which ever and
+anon silently encouraged him.</p>
+
+<p>"Bang!"</p>
+
+<p>It was unexpected, and Golightly sprang into the air, only to gallop on
+again like lightning. Rosalind's heart was going pretty fast now. She
+could see two or three dark forms gliding serpent-like through the
+trees, but Golightly's rapid progress baulked their aim. Ah, there are
+some figures in advance of her! Courage, Rosalind, courage! Her rifle is
+ready.</p>
+
+<p>"Golightly, dear Golightly, save us both," she whispers. And Golightly
+tosses up his head with a little whinny of comprehension, and, bracing
+up every nerve, prepares for a rush through that ominous path blocked as
+it is by two dark figures.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Rosalind's Rifle speaks</div>
+
+<p>"Bang!"</p>
+
+<p>It is Rosalind's rifle this time, and a scream, shrill and piercing,
+rends the air. One form drops like a stone right across the path. But
+there is another to dispose of. His rifle is raised. Either Golightly or
+his mistress will receive the contents of that barrel. But Rosalind's
+hand never wavers as she points at that upraised arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Bang!"</p>
+
+<p>"Bang!"</p>
+
+<p>The two shots resound almost simultaneously, but Rosalind's is first by
+half a second. Again a scream rends the air, and yet another, coming
+this time from the rear. Rosalind's palpitating heart prevents her from
+glancing about to learn the cause. She knows she has shot the Indian in
+the right arm, but she does not know, and will never know, that her
+opportune shot has saved herself and her steed from being fired at from
+behind as well as in front. For when the Indian's arm was struck, it
+directed the contents of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>his rifle away from the point he aimed at. He
+shot half a second after Rosalind's fire, and killed his chief
+Feathertop, who was lurking in the background, grinning horribly at his
+good fortune in taking aim at the back of the paleface and her flying
+steed.</p>
+
+<p>Over the body of the dead Indian Golightly springs, paying no heed to
+the savage Redskin who stands aside from the trampling hoofs with his
+right arm hanging broken at his side. He is helpless, but he may yet do
+damage to Rosalind's cause. She lifts her rifle in passing him, and aims
+once more at his retreating form. He springs into the air, and, without
+a groan or cry, meets his death.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind has cleared her path from further danger. Ride swiftly though
+she does, no lurking forms are seen, no gliding figures block her way.
+But the danger she has gone through has taken all her strength from her.
+She leans her cheek on Golightly's sympathetic head and sobs out her
+gratitude to him.</p>
+
+<p>When a foam-flecked steed dashed up to the first house in the village
+there was great commotion. Frank Robertson, with his mother and sisters,
+rushed out to find a white-faced Rosalind, spent and nearly fainting,
+sitting limply on Golightly's back. She had no words to explain her
+presence. She could only look at them with lack-lustre eyes. But
+Golightly turned his head as the young man lifted her gently off, and
+his eloquent eyes said as plainly as any words could say&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Deal gently with her; she has gone through more than you will ever
+know, and has played her part bravely."</p>
+
+<p>His comfort was looked after in as great degree as was Rosalind's. For
+while Rosalind lay on a couch, faint but smiling, and listening to the
+praises which the women-folk showered upon her, Golightly was stabled
+and rubbed down by two of Robertson's hired men, and caressed and given
+a good feed of corn with as many admiring words thrown in as ever his
+mistress had.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>No time was lost in collecting a good body of mounted men, and away they
+rode with Frank Robertson at their head, arriving in good time to save
+McArthur's home and family from savage destruction by the Redskins.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Their Last Visit</div>
+
+<p>With the knowledge that their chief Feathertop was killed, the Indians'
+enthusiasm cooled, and those who could saved their lives by flying to
+their homes in the mountains. McArthur was never again troubled by a
+visit from them, and lived to rejoice in the marriage of his brave
+daughter to Frank Robertson.</p>
+
+<p>The young couple settled within a couple of miles of McArthur's
+homestead, and as each anniversary of Rosalind's ride came round, it was
+a familiar sight to see old McArthur standing up amongst the great
+gathering of friends to praise the brave girl who jeopardised her life
+that moonlight night to save the lives and property of those dearest to
+her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Which of the Two?</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Agnes Giberne</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Mittie's love of self might have led on to a tragedy. Happily
+the issue was of quite another kind.</div>
+
+<p>"It's going to be a glorious day&mdash;just glorious! Joan, we must do
+something&mdash;not sit moping indoors from morning till night!"</p>
+
+<p>Mittie never did sit indoors from morning till night; but this was a
+figure of speech.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm all alive to be off&mdash;I don't care where. Oh, do think of a plan!
+It's the sort of weather that makes one frantic to be away&mdash;to have
+something happen. Don't you feel so?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked longingly through the bow-window, across the small, neat
+lawn, divided by low shrubs from a quiet road, not far beyond which lay
+the river. The sisters were at breakfast together in the morning-room,
+which was bathed in an early flood of sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>Three years before this date they had been left orphaned and destitute,
+and had come to their grandmother's home&mdash;a comfortable and charming
+little country house, and, in their circumstances, a very haven of
+refuge, but, still, a trifle dull for two young girls. Mittie often
+complained of its monotony. Joan, eighteen months the elder, realised
+how different their condition would have been had they not been welcomed
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>here. But she, too, was conscious of dulness, for she was only
+eighteen.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Think of Something!"</div>
+
+<p>"Such sunshine! It's just <i>ordering</i> us to be out. Joan, be sensible,
+and think of something we can do&mdash;something jolly, something new! Just
+for one day can't we leave everything and have a bit of fun? I'm aching
+for a little fun! Oh, do get out of the jog-trot for once! Don't be
+humdrum!"</p>
+
+<p>"Am I humdrum?" Joan asked. She was not usually counted so attractive as
+the fluffy-haired, lively Mittie, but she looked very pretty at this
+moment. The early post had come in; and as she read the one note which
+fell to her share a bright colour, not often seen there, flushed her
+cheeks, and a sweet half-glad half-anxious expression stole into her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Awfully humdrum, you dear old thing! You always were, you know. How is
+Grannie to-day?" Mittie seldom troubled herself to see the old lady
+before breakfast, but left such attentions to Joan.</p>
+
+<p>"She doesn't seem very well, and she is rather&mdash;depressed. I'm afraid we
+couldn't possibly both leave her for the whole day&mdash;could we?" There was
+a touch of troubled hesitation in the manner, and Joan sent a quick
+inquiring glance at the other's face.</p>
+
+<p>"No chance of that. We never do leave her for a whole day; and if we did
+we should never hear the end of it. But we might surely be off after
+breakfast, and take our lunch, and come back in time for tea. She might
+put up with that, I do think. Oh dear me! Why can't old people remember
+that once upon a time they were young, and didn't like to be tied up
+tight? But, I suppose, in those days nobody minded. I know I mind
+now&mdash;awfully! I'm just crazy to be off on a spree. What shall we do,
+Joan? Think of something."</p>
+
+<p>"Mittie, dear&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's right. You've got a notion. Have it out!"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't&mdash;what you think. I have something else to say. A note has come
+from Mrs. Ferris."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"She wants me&mdash;us&mdash;to go to her for the day."</p>
+
+<p>Mittie clapped her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Us! Both of us, do you mean? How lovely! I didn't know she was aware of
+my existence. Oh, yes, of course, I've seen her lots of times, but she
+always seems to think I'm a child still. She never asked me there before
+for a whole day. How are we to go? Will she send for us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but&mdash;but, Mittie&mdash;we can't both leave Grannie all those hours. She
+would be so hurt."</p>
+
+<p>"So cross, you mean. You don't expect <i>me</i> to stay behind, I hope!
+<i>Me</i>&mdash;to spend a long endless day here, poking in Grannie's bedroom, and
+picking up her stitches, and being scolded for every mortal thing I do
+and don't do, while you are off on a lovely jaunt! Not I! You're very
+much mistaken if that is what you expect. Will Mrs. Ferris send the
+carriage or the motor?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is sending the boat. And her son&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What! is he going to row us? That nice fellow! He rows splendidly, I
+know. I shall get him to let me take an oar. It's as easy as anything,
+going down the stream. Oh, we must do it, Joan&mdash;we really, really
+<i>must!</i> Grannie will have to put up for once with being alone. Is he
+coming by himself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;no&mdash;I mean, he will drop his sister Mary at The Laurels and come
+on for us, and then take her up as we go back."</p>
+
+<p>"The Laurels? Oh, just a few minutes off. Mary&mdash;she's the eldest. When
+does he come? Eleven o'clock! No time to waste. We must put on our new
+frocks. You had better tell Grannie at once that we are going. I shall
+keep out of her way. You'll manage her best."</p>
+
+<p>"But if she doesn't like to be left?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then she'll have to do without the liking! Yes, I know what you mean,
+Joan. You want me to stay here, and set you free. And I'm not going to
+do it. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>I simply won't&mdash;won't&mdash;won't! It's no earthly use your trying to
+make me. I'm asked too, and I mean to go."</p>
+
+<p>"Mittie, you've not seen the note yet. I think you ought to read it. She
+asks me first&mdash;and then she just says, would I like to bring&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't matter, and I don't want to see! It's enough that I'm
+invited." Mittie had a quick temper, apt to flare out suddenly. She
+jumped up, and flounced towards the door. "I shall get ready; and you'd
+better make haste, or you'll be late."</p>
+
+<p>"And if I find that I can't be spared as well as you?"</p>
+
+<p>Joan's eyes went to Mittie, with a look of grieved appeal. That look
+went home; and for a moment&mdash;only one moment&mdash;Mittie wavered. She knew
+how much more this meant to Joan than it could mean to herself. She knew
+that she had no right to put herself first, to snatch the joy from Joan.
+But the habit of self-indulgence was too strong.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"It is all Nonsense!"</div>
+
+<p>"If you choose to stay at home, I shall go without you. It is all
+nonsense about 'can't'! You can go if you like."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Joan remained alone, thinking.</p>
+
+<p>What could she say? Mittie, the spoilt younger sister, always had had
+her own way, and always insisted on having it. She would insist now, and
+would have it, as usual.</p>
+
+<p>That Mittie would go was indeed a foregone conclusion, and Joan had
+known it from the first. The question was&mdash;could she go too? Would it be
+right to leave the old lady, depressed and suffering, all those
+hours&mdash;just for her own pleasure, even though it meant much more than
+mere pleasure?</p>
+
+<p>The girls owed a great deal to Mrs. Wills. She was not rich, though she
+had a comfortable little home; and when she took in the two
+granddaughters, it meant a heavy pull on her purse. It meant, also,
+parting <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>with a valued companion&mdash;a paid companion&mdash;whom she had had for
+years, and on whom she very much depended. This necessary step was
+taken, with the understanding that the two girls would do all in their
+power to supply her place. And Joan had done her best. Mittie seldom
+gave any thought to the matter.</p>
+
+<p>In a general way, Joan would at once have agreed that Mittie should be
+the one to go, that she herself would be the one to stay behind.</p>
+
+<p>But this was no ordinary case. In the summer before she had seen a good
+deal of Fred Ferris. He had been at home for three months after an
+accident, which, for the time, disabled him from work; and he had been
+unmistakably attracted by Joan. Not only had he made many an opportunity
+to see her, but his mother had taken pains to bring the two together.
+She liked Joan, and made no secret of the fact. Mittie had often been
+left out of these arrangements, and had resented it.</p>
+
+<p>For a good while Fred Ferris had been away from home; but Joan knew that
+he was likely to come soon, and she built upon the hope. She had given
+her heart to Fred, and she indulged in many a secret dream for the
+future while pursuing her little round of daily duties, and bearing
+patiently with the spoilt and wayward Mittie.</p>
+
+<p>And now&mdash;this had come!&mdash;this intimation of Fred's arrival, and the
+chance of a long delightful day with him&mdash;a day on which so much might
+hang!</p>
+
+<p>And yet, if Mittie insisted on going, it would probably mean that she
+would have to give it up. That would be hard to bear&mdash;all the harder
+because Mittie knew at least something of the true state of affairs. She
+knew how persistently Fred Ferris had come after her sister, and she
+must at least conjecture a little of what her sister felt for Fred.
+Nobody knew all that Joan felt, except Joan herself; but Mittie had seen
+quite enough to have made her act kindly and unselfishly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Joan's hopes had grown faint when she left the breakfast-table and went
+upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wills spent most of her time in her bedroom, sometimes hobbling
+across to a small sitting-room on the same floor. She was too infirm to
+come downstairs.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh? What is it? I don't understand!"</p>
+
+<p>The old lady was growing deaf, and when she objected to what was being
+said, she would become doubly deaf. Like her younger granddaughter, she
+had always been accustomed to getting her own way.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Your Turn now!"</div>
+
+<p>"You want to do&mdash;what?" as Joan tried to explain. "I wish you would
+speak more clearly, my dear, and not put your lips together when you
+talk. Mrs. Ferris! Yes, of course I know Mrs. Ferris. I knew her long
+before <i>you</i> came here. She wants you for the day? Well, one of you can
+go, and the other must stay with me. You've got to take turns. That is
+only reasonable. Mittie went last time, so it is your turn now."</p>
+
+<p>But Mittie never cared about turns.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you couldn't for once&mdash;just once, Grannie, dear&mdash;spare us
+both together?"</p>
+
+<p>Joan said this with such a sinking of heart that, had the old lady known
+it, she would surely have yielded. A sick fear had come over the girl
+lest Fred might think that she was staying away on purpose&mdash;because she
+did not want to see him. But she only looked rather white, and smiled as
+usual.</p>
+
+<p>"Spare you both! What!&mdash;leave me alone the whole day, both of you!" The
+old lady was scandalised. "I didn't think before that you were a selfish
+girl, Joan. Well, well, never mind!&mdash;you're not generally, I know. But
+of course it is out of the question, so lame as I am&mdash;not able to get
+anything that I want. That wasn't in the bargain at all, when we settled
+that you should live with me."</p>
+
+<p>Joan knew that it was not. But it was very hard to bear!</p>
+
+<p>She went to Mittie, and made one more attempt in that direction, ending,
+as she expected, unsuccessfully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It really is my turn, you know, Mittie, dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Your turn? What! because I went to that silly tea last week? As if the
+two things could be compared!"</p>
+
+<p>Mittie ran to the glass to inspect herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you just tell Grannie that you meant to do it, instead of
+asking whether she could spare you? So absurd! She would have given in
+then."</p>
+
+<p>Joan might have answered, "Because I have some sense of duty!" But she
+said nothing&mdash;it was so useless.</p>
+
+<p>She debated whether to write a note for Mittie to take, and then decided
+that she would run down to the river-edge and would explain to Fred
+Ferris himself why she might not go, not implying any blame to her
+sister, but just saying that she could not leave her grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>The thought of this cheered her up, for surely he would understand.</p>
+
+<p>But a few minutes before the time fixed for his arrival a message
+summoned her to the old lady, and she found that for a good half-hour
+she would be unable to get away. All she could do was to rush to Mittie
+and to give a hurried message&mdash;which she felt far from certain would be
+correctly delivered.</p>
+
+<p>Then for a moment she stood outside Mrs. Wills's room, choking back the
+sobs which swelled in her throat, and feeling very sad and hopeless at
+the thought of all she would miss, still more at the thought that her
+absence might be misunderstood.</p>
+
+<p>From the window, as she attended to her grandmother's wants, she had a
+glimpse of Mittie, running gaily down the garden, in her pretty white
+frock, carrying an open Japanese parasol in one hand, while from the
+other dangled her hat and a small basket of flowers.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mittie, I wouldn't have done it to you&mdash;if you had cared as I do!"
+she breathed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When Mittie reached the stream, Ferris had that moment arrived.</p>
+
+<p>He had made fast the painter, intending to run up to the house, and had
+stepped back into the boat to put the cushions right.</p>
+
+<p>A straight well-built young fellow, he looked eagerly up at the sound of
+steps; and when Mittie appeared alone, a momentary look of surprise
+came. But, of course Joan would follow!</p>
+
+<p>Mittie wore her prettiest expression. She dropped her hat into the boat,
+and he took her parasol, holding out a hand to help, as she evidently
+meant to occupy her seat without delay.</p>
+<div><a name="your" id="your"></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 239px;">
+<img src="images/5.jpg" width="239" height="400" alt="&quot;YOUR SISTER IS COMING?&quot; HE SAID." title="&quot;YOUR SISTER IS COMING?&quot; HE SAID." />
+<span class="caption">&quot;YOUR SISTER IS COMING?&quot; HE SAID.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Your Sister is Coming?"</div>
+
+<p>"Your sister is coming?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"She doesn't like to leave Grannie. So you'll have to do with me alone,"
+smiled Mittie. "Such a pity, this splendid day! I did my best to
+persuade her&mdash;but she wouldn't be persuaded."</p>
+
+<p>There was an abrupt pause. Even Mittie's self-complacency could not veil
+from her his changed face, his blank disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>In that moment she very fully realised the truth that Joan, and not
+herself, was the one really wanted. But she smiled on resolutely,
+careless of what Fred might think about Joan's motives, and bent on
+making a good impression.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the first time I've been to your house&mdash;oh, for months and months!
+I'm <i>so</i> looking forward to a whole day there. And being rowed down the
+river is so awfully delightful. I did try my hardest to get Joan to
+come, too; but she simply wouldn't, and she asked me to explain."</p>
+
+<p>This only made matters worse. Fred could hardly avoid believing that
+Joan's absence was due to a wish to avoid him. In Mittie's mind lay a
+scarcely acknowledged fear that, if she were more explicit, Fred might
+insist on seeing Joan; and, in that event, that she might herself be in
+the end the one left behind. She was determined to have her day of fun.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Ferris had grown suddenly grave. He made Mittie comfortable in her seat,
+cast loose, and took the oars; but he seemed to have little to say.</p>
+
+<p>Almost in complete silence they went to The Laurels. Mittie's repeated
+attempts at conversation died, each in succession, a natural death.</p>
+
+<p>When Mary Ferris appeared, surprise was again shown at the sight of
+Mittie alone. Mary Ferris did not take it so quietly as her brother had
+done. She was naturally blunt, and she put one or two awkward questions
+which Mittie found it not easy to evade.</p>
+
+<p>The hour on that lovely river, to which she had looked forward as
+delightful, proved dull.</p>
+
+<p>Fred Ferris had nothing to say; he could not get over this seeming snub
+from Joan. He attended silently to his oars, and somehow Mittie had not
+courage to suggest that she would very much like to handle one of them.
+Mary was politely kind, and talked in an intermittent fashion; but the
+"fun" on which Mittie had counted was non-existent.</p>
+
+<p>When they reached the landing-place and stepped out Mrs. Ferris stood on
+the bank, awaiting them. And Mrs. Ferris, though able, when she chose,
+to make herself extremely charming, was a very outspoken lady.</p>
+
+<p>There was no mistake about her astonishment. Her eyebrows went up, and
+her eyes ran questioningly over the white-frocked figure.</p>
+
+<p>"What, only Mittie! How is this? Where is Joan?"</p>
+
+<p>Mittie felt rather small, but she was not going to admit that she had
+been in the wrong.</p>
+
+<p>"Joan wouldn't come," she said, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Is she not well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes; quite well. I did try to persuade her&mdash;but she wouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>The mother and daughter exchanged glances. Fred was already walking
+away, and Mary remarked:</p>
+
+<p>"Joan always thinks first of other people. I dare say she felt that she
+could not leave Mrs. Wills."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mittie, conscious of implied blame, grew pink and eager to defend
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>"She could have come&mdash;perfectly well! There wasn't the <i>least</i> reason
+why she shouldn't. Grannie was all right. Joan simply&mdash;simply wouldn't!"
+Mittie stopped, knowing that she had conveyed a false impression, but
+pride withheld her from modifying the words. "I told her she might&mdash;just
+as well."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ferris began to move towards the house. "It is a great pity," she
+said. "We all counted on having Joan. However, it cannot be helped now.
+I hope you will enjoy yourself, my dear. Mary will show you over the
+garden and the house."</p>
+
+<p>To Mary she added: "The old castle must wait for another time, I
+think&mdash;when Joan is here."</p>
+
+<p>Mittie cast a questioning look, and Mary said, in explanation: "Only an
+old ruin a few miles off. We meant to have an excursion there this
+afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>Mittie loved excursions, and could not resist saying so. No notice was
+taken of this appeal; but somewhat later she overheard a murmured remark
+from Mrs. Ferris to Mary.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Certainly not&mdash;now!"</div>
+
+<p>"No, certainly not&mdash;now. Fred will not care to go. He is very much
+disappointed, poor boy! If only one could be sure that it means
+nothing!" But Mittie was not meant to hear this.</p>
+
+<p>They were very kind to her, and she really had nothing to complain of on
+the score of inattention. Mary, who happened to be the only daughter at
+home, took her in charge and put her through a steady course of gardens,
+glasshouses, family pets, and old furniture&mdash;for none of which Mittie
+cared a rap. What she had wanted was a gay young party, plenty of fun
+and merriment, and for herself abundance of admiration.</p>
+
+<p>But Fred made himself scarce, only appearing at luncheon and vanishing
+afterwards; and Mrs. Ferris was occupied elsewhere most of the time;
+while between Mary and herself there was absolutely nothing in common.
+Mary, though only the senior by two or <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>three years, was not only
+clever, but very intelligent and well read, and she had plenty of
+conversation. But the subjects for which she cared, though they would
+have delighted Joan, were utter tedium to Mittie's empty little head.</p>
+
+<p>Before an hour had passed, Mary's boredom was only less pronounced than
+Mittie's own.</p>
+
+<p>It was so tiresome, so stupid of Joan not to come! Mittie complained
+bitterly to herself of this. If Joan had come too, all would have gone
+well. She could not help seeing that she had not been meant to come
+without Joan, still less instead of Joan.</p>
+
+<p>With all her assurance, this realisation that she was not wanted and
+that everybody was regretting Joan's absence made her horribly
+uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>When left alone for a few minutes, early in the afternoon, she tugged
+angrily at her gloves, and muttered: "I wish I wasn't here. I wish I had
+left it to Joan. I think they are all most awfully frumpish and stupid,
+and I can't imagine what makes Joan so fond of them!"</p>
+
+<p>But she did not yet blame herself.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Five o'clock was the time fixed for return. Had Joan come it would have
+been much later.</p>
+
+<p>At tea-time Fred turned up, and it appeared that he meant to get off the
+return-row up the river. He had engaged a boatman to do it in his stead.
+Mary would still go, and though Mittie proudly said it did not matter,
+she wouldn't in the least mind being alone, Mary only smiled and held to
+her intention.</p>
+
+<p>But long before this stage of proceedings everybody was tired&mdash;Mary and
+Mittie especially, the one of entertaining, the other of being
+entertained.</p>
+
+<p>Mary had tried every imaginable thing she could think of to amuse the
+young guest, and every possible subject for talk. They seemed to have
+arrived at the end of everything, and it took all Mittie's energies to
+keep down, in a measure, her recurring yawns. Mary <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>did her best, but
+she found Mittie far from interesting.</p>
+
+<p>When at length they started for the riverside, Fred went with the two
+girls to see them off; and Mittie felt like a prisoner about to be
+released.</p>
+
+<p>She was so eager to escape that she ran ahead of her companions towards
+the landing-place, and Mary dryly remarked in an undertone: "Mittie has
+had about enough of us, I think. How different she is from Joan! One
+would hardly take them for sisters."</p>
+
+<p>Fred was too downhearted to answer. He had felt all day terribly
+hopeless.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he started forward. "I say!&mdash;wait a moment!" he called.</p>
+
+<p>A slight turn had brought them in full view of the small boat floating
+close under the bank, roped loosely to the shore, and of Mittie standing
+above, poised as for a spring. She was light and active, and fond of
+jumping. At the moment of Fred's shout she was in the very act. No
+boatman was within sight.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the abrupt call startled her; perhaps in any case she would have
+miscalculated her distance. She was very self-confident, and had had
+little to do with boating.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">An Upset</div>
+
+<p>One way or another, instead of alighting neatly in the boat, as she
+meant to do, she came with both feet upon the gunwale and capsized the
+craft.</p>
+
+<p>There was a loud terrified shriek, a great splash, and Mittie had
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Fred! Fred!" screamed Mary.</p>
+
+<p>Fred cleared the space in a few leaps, and was down the bank by the time
+that Mittie rose, some yards off, floating down the stream, with hands
+flung wildly out. Another leap carried him into the water.</p>
+
+<p>He had thrown off his coat as he rushed to the rescue; and soon he had
+her in his grip, holding her off as she frantically clutched at him, and
+paddling back with one hand.</p>
+
+<p>He was obliged to land lower down, and Mary was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>there before him.
+Between them they pulled Mittie out, a wet, frightened, miserable
+object, her breath in helpless gasps and sobs, and one cheek bleeding
+freely from striking the rowlock.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mittie! why did you do it?" Mary asked in distress&mdash;a rather
+inopportune question in the circumstances. "We must get her home at
+once, Fred, and put her to bed."</p>
+
+<p>They had almost to carry her up the bank, for all the starch and
+confidence were gone out of her; and she was supremely ashamed, besides
+being overwhelmed with the fright and the shock.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the house Fred went off to change his own soaking garments,
+and Mittie was promptly put to bed, with a hot bottle at her feet and a
+hot drink to counteract the effects of the chill.</p>
+
+<p>She submitted with unwonted meekness; but her one cry was for her
+sister.</p>
+
+<p>"I want Joan! Oh, do fetch Joan!" she entreated. "My face hurts so
+awfully; and I feel so bad all over. I know I'm going to die! Oh, please
+send for Joan!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think there is the smallest probability of that, my dear," Mrs.
+Ferris said, with rather dry composure, as she sat by the bed. "If Fred
+had not been at hand you would have been in danger, certainly. But, as
+things are, it is simply a matter of keeping you warm for a few hours.
+Your face will be painful, I am afraid, for some days; but happily it is
+only a bad bruise."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I could manage the jump so nicely," sighed Mittie.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a pity you tried. Now, Mittie, I am going to ask you a question,
+and I want a clear answer. Will you tell me frankly&mdash;did Joan <i>wish</i> to
+stay at home to-day, and to send you in her stead?"</p>
+
+<p>Mittie was so subdued that she had no spirit for a fight. "No," came in
+a whisper. "I&mdash;she&mdash;she wanted awfully to come. And I&mdash;wouldn't stay at
+home. And Grannie didn't like to spare us both."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I see!" Mrs. Ferris laid a kind hand on Mittie. "I am glad you have
+told me; and you are sorry now, of course. That will make all the
+difference. Now I am going to send Fred to tell your sister what has
+happened, and to say that you will be here till to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't he bring Joan? I do want her so!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sure that that will be possible."</p>
+
+<p>But to Fred, when retailing what had passed, she added: "You had better
+motor over. And if you can persuade Joan to come, so much the better&mdash;to
+sleep, if possible; if not, we can send her home later."</p>
+
+<p>Fred was off like a shot. The motor run was a very short affair compared
+with going by boat. On arrival, he found the front door of Mrs. Wills's
+house open; and he caught a glimpse of a brown head within the
+bow-window of the breakfast-room.</p>
+
+<p>If he could only find Joan alone! He ventured to walk in without
+ringing.</p>
+
+<p>Alone, indeed, Joan was, trying to darn a pair of stockings, and finding
+the task difficult. It had been such a long, long day&mdash;longer even for
+her than for Mittie.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Fred!"</div>
+
+<p>"Come in," she said, in answer to a light tap. And the last face that
+she expected to see appeared. "<i>Fred!</i>" broke from her. "Mr. Ferris!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, please&mdash;I like 'Fred' best!" He came close, noting with joy how her
+face had in an instant parted with its gravity. "Why did you not come to
+us to-day?" he asked earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Not&mdash;because you wanted to stay away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no!"</p>
+
+<p>"Could not your sister have been the one at home?"</p>
+
+<p>Joan spoke gently. "You see, Mittie has never before spent a day at your
+house. She wanted it so much."</p>
+
+<p>"And you&mdash;did you want it, too&mdash;ever so little? Would you have cared to
+come, Joan?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Joan only smiled. She felt happy beyond words.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got to take you there now, if you'll come. For the night,
+perhaps&mdash;or at least for the evening. Mittie has had a wetting"&mdash;he
+called the younger girl by her name half-unconsciously&mdash;"and they have
+put her to bed for fear of a chill. And she wants you."</p>
+
+<p>Naturally Joan was a good deal concerned, though Fred made little of the
+accident. He explained more fully, and an appeal to the old lady brought
+permission.</p>
+
+<p>"Not for the night, child&mdash;I can't spare you for that, but for the
+evening. Silly little goose Mittie is!"</p>
+
+<p>And Fred, with delight, carried Joan off.</p>
+
+<p>"So Mrs. Wills can't do without you, even for one night," he said, when
+they were spinning along the high road, he and she behind and the
+chauffeur in front. He laughed, and bent to look into her eyes. "Joan,
+what is to happen when she <i>has</i> to do without you altogether?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I suppose&mdash;she might manage as she used to do before we came." Joan
+said this involuntarily; and then she understood. Her colour went up.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think <i>I</i> can manage very much longer without you&mdash;my Joan!"
+murmured Fred. "If you'll have me, darling."</p>
+
+<p>And she only said, "Oh, Fred!"</p>
+
+<p>But he understood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A Christmas with Australian Blacks</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">J. S. Ponder</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Here is a story of an out-of-the-way Christmas entertainment
+got up for a girl's pleasure.</div>
+
+<p>"I say, Dora, can't we get up some special excitement for sister Maggie,
+seeing she is to be here for Christmas? I fancy she will, in her home
+inexperience, expect a rather jolly time spending Christmas in this
+forsaken spot. I am afraid that my letters home, in which I coloured
+things up a bit, are to blame for that," my husband added ruefully.</p>
+
+<p>"What can we do, Jack?" I asked. "I can invite the Dunbars, the Connors
+and the Sutherlands over for a dance, and you can arrange for a
+kangaroo-hunt the following day. That is the usual thing when special
+visitors come, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he moodily replied, "that about exhausts our programme. Nothing
+very exciting in that. I say, how would it do to take the fangs out of a
+couple of black snakes and put them in her bedroom, so as to give her
+the material of a thrilling adventure to narrate when she goes back to
+England?"</p>
+
+<p>"That would never do," I protested, "you might frighten her out of her
+wits. Remember she is not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>strong, and spare her everything except very
+innocent adventures. Besides, snakes are such loathsome beasts."</p>
+
+<p>"How would it do, then, to give a big Christmas feast to the blacks?" he
+hazarded.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think she would like that?" I asked doubtfully. "Remember how
+awfully dirty and savage-looking they are."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we would try and get them to clean up a bit, and come somewhat
+presentable," he cheerfully replied. "And, Dora," he continued, "I think
+the idea is a good one. Sister Maggie is the Hon. Secretary or something
+of the Missionary Society connected with her Church, and in the thick of
+all the 'soup and blanket clubs' of the district. She will just revel at
+the chance of administering to the needs of genuine savages."</p>
+
+<p>"If you think so, you had better try and get the feast up," I resignedly
+replied; "but I do wish our savages were a little less filthy."</p>
+
+<p>Such was the origin of our Christmas feast to the blacks last year, of
+which I am about to tell you.</p>
+
+<p>My husband, John MacKenzie, was the manager and part proprietor of a
+large sheep-station in the Murchison district of Western Australia, and
+sister Maggie was his favourite sister. A severe attack of pneumonia had
+left her so weak that the doctors advised a sea voyage to Australia, to
+recuperate her strength&mdash;a proposition which she hailed with delight, as
+it would give her the opportunity of seeing her brother in his West
+Australian home. My husband, of course, was delighted at the prospect of
+seeing her again, while I too welcomed the idea of meeting my Scottish
+sister-in-law, with whom I had much charming correspondence, but had
+never met face to face.</p>
+
+<p>As the above conversation shows, my husband's chief care was to make his
+sister's visit bright and enjoyable&mdash;no easy task in the lonely
+back-blocks where our station was, and where the dreary loneliness and
+deadly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>monotony of the West Australian bush reaches its climax. Miles
+upon miles of uninteresting plains, covered with the usual gums and
+undergrowth, surrounded us on all sides; beautiful, indeed, in early
+spring, when the wealth of West Australian wild flowers&mdash;unsurpassed for
+loveliness by those of any other country&mdash;enriched the land, but at
+other times painfully unattractive and monotonous.</p>
+
+<p>Except kangaroos, snakes, and lizards, animal life was a-wanting. Bird
+and insect life, too, was hardly to be seen, and owing to the absence of
+rivers and lakes, aquatic life was unknown.</p>
+
+<p>The silent loneliness of the bush is so oppressive and depressing that
+men new to such conditions have gone mad under it when living alone, and
+others almost lose their power of intelligent speech.</p>
+
+<p>Such were hardly the most cheerful surroundings for a young convalescent
+girl, and so I fully shared Jack's anxiety as to how to provide healthy
+excitement during his sister's stay.</p>
+
+<p>Preparations for the blacks' Christmas feast were at once proceeded
+with. A camp of aboriginals living by a small lakelet eighteen miles off
+was visited, and the natives there were informed of a great feast that
+was to be given thirty days later, and were told to tell other blacks to
+come too, with their wives and piccaninnies.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A large order</div>
+
+<p>Orders were sent to the nearest town, fifty-three miles off, for six
+cases of oranges, a gross of gingerbeer, and all the dolls, penknives
+and tin trumpets in stock; also (for Jack got wildly extravagant over
+his project) for fifty cotton shirts, and as many pink dresses of the
+readymade kind that are sold in Australian stores. These all came about
+a fortnight before Christmas, and at the same time our expected visitor
+arrived.</p>
+
+<p>She at once got wildly enthusiastic when my husband told her of his
+plan, and threw herself into the preparations with refreshing energy.</p>
+
+<p>She and I, and the native servants we had, toiled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>early and late,
+working like galley-slaves making bread-stuffs for the feast. Knowing
+whom I had to provide for, I confined myself to making that Australian
+standby&mdash;damper, and simple cakes, but Maggie produced a wonderfully
+elaborate and rich bun for their delectation, which she called a
+"Selkirk bannock," and which I privately thought far too good for them.</p>
+
+<p>Well, the day came. Such a Christmas as you can only see and feel in
+Australia; the sky cloudless, the atmosphere breezeless, the temperature
+one hundred and seven degrees in the shade. With it came the aboriginals
+in great number, accompanied, as they always are, by crowds of
+repulsive-looking mongrel dogs.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie was greatly excited, and not a little indignant, at seeing many
+of the gins carrying their dogs in their arms, and letting their infants
+toddle along on trembling legs hardly strong enough to support their
+little bodies, and much astonished when, on her proposing to send all
+their dogs away, I told her that this would result in the failure of the
+intended feast, as they would sooner forsake their children than their
+mongrels, and if the dogs were driven away, every native would
+indignantly accompany them.</p>
+
+<p>Maggie, with a sigh and a curious look on her face that told of the
+disillusioning of sundry preconceived English ideas regarding the noble
+savages, turned to look at Jack, and her lips soon twitched with
+merriment as she listened to him masterfully arranging the day's
+campaign.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Magnificent Bribe</div>
+
+<p>Marshalling the blacks before him like a company of soldiers&mdash;the women,
+thanks to my prudent instructions, being more or less decently dressed,
+the men considerably less decently, and the younger children of both
+sexes being elegantly clad in Nature's undress uniform&mdash;Jack vigorously
+addressed his listeners thus: "Big feast made ready for plenty
+black-fellow to-day, but black-fellow must make clean himself before
+feast." (Grunts of disapprobation from the men, and a perfect <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>babel of
+angry protestation from the women here interrupted the speaker, who
+proceeded, oblivious of the disapproval of his audience.) "Black-fellow
+all come with me for washee; lubras and piccaninnies (<i>i.e.</i>, women and
+children) all go with white women for washee." (Continued grumbles of
+discontent.) "Clean black-fellow," continued Jack, "get new shirtee,
+clean lubra new gowna." Then, seeing that even this magnificent bribe
+failed to reconcile the natives to the idea of soap and water, Jack, to
+the amusement of Maggie and myself, settled matters by shouting out the
+ultimatum: "No washee&mdash;no shirtee, no shirtee&mdash;no feastee," and stalked
+away, followed submissively by the aboriginal lords of creation.</p>
+
+<p>The men, indeed, and, in a lesser degree, the children, showed
+themselves amenable to reason that day, and were not wanting in
+gratitude; but in spite of Maggie's care and mine, the gins (the gentler
+sex) worthily deserved the expressive description: "Manners none,
+customs beastly."</p>
+
+<p>They were repulsive and dirty in the extreme. They gloried in their
+dirt, and clung to it with a closer affection than they did to womanly
+modesty&mdash;this last virtue was unknown.</p>
+
+<p>We, on civilising thoughts intent, had provided a number of large tubs
+and soap, and brushes galore for the Augean task, but though we got the
+women to the water, we were helpless to make them clean.</p>
+
+<p>Their declaration of independence was out at once&mdash;"Is thy servant a dog
+that I should do this thing?" Wash and be clean! Why, it was contrary to
+all the time-honoured filthy habits of the noble self-respecting race of
+Australian gins, and "they would have none of it." At last, in despair,
+and largely humiliated at the way in which savage womanhood had worsted
+civilised, Maggie and I betook ourselves to the long tables where the
+feast was being spread, and waited the arrival of the leader of the
+other sex, whose success, evidenced by sounds coming from afar, made me
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>seriously doubt my right to be called his "better half."</p>
+
+<p>After a final appeal to my hard-hearted lord and master to be spared the
+indignity of the wash-tub, the native men had bowed to the inevitable.</p>
+
+<p>Each man heroically lent himself to the task, and diligently helped his
+neighbours to reach the required standard of excellence.</p>
+
+<p>Finally all save one stubborn aboriginal protestant emerged from the
+tub, like the immortal Tom Sawyer, "a man and a brother."</p>
+
+<p>Well, the feast was a great success. The corned and tinned meat,
+oranges, tomatoes, cakes and gingerbeer provided were largely consumed.
+The eatables, indeed, met the approval of the savages, for, like Oliver
+Twist, they asked for "more," until we who served them got rather
+leg-weary, and began to doubt whether, when night came, we would be able
+to say with any heartiness we had had "a merry Christmas."</p>
+
+<p>Clad in their clean shirts, and with faces shining with soap-polish, the
+men looked rather well, despite their repulsive and generally villainous
+features. But the women, wrinkled, filthy, quarrelsome and disgusting,
+they might have stood for incarnations of the witch-hags in <i>Macbeth;</i>
+and as we watched them guzzling down the food, and then turning their
+upper garments into impromptu bags to carry off what remained, it is
+hard to say whether the feeling of pity or disgust they raised was the
+stronger.</p>
+
+<p>After the feast, Jack, for Maggie's entertainment, tried to get up the
+blacks to engage in a corroboree, and give an exhibition of boomerang
+and spear-throwing; but the inner man had been too largely satisfied,
+and they declined violent exertion, so the toys were distributed and our
+guests dismissed.</p>
+
+<p>When she and I were dressing that evening for our own Christmas dinner,
+Maggie kept talking all the time of the strange experience she had
+passed through that day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Striking Picture</div>
+
+<p>"I'll never forget it," she said. "Savages are so different from our
+English ideas of them. Did you notice the dogs? I counted nineteen go
+off with the first native that left. And the women! Weren't they
+horrors? I don't think I'll ever feel pride in my sex again. But above
+all, I'll never forget the way in which Jack drove from the table that
+native who hadn't a clean shirt on. It was a picture of Christ's parable
+of the 'Marriage Feast,'" she added softly.</p>
+
+<p>Before I could reply the gong, strengthened by Jack's imperative "Hurry
+up, I'm starving," summoned us to dinner.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>My Mistress Elizabeth</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Annie Armitt</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">A story of Sedgemoor times and of a woman who was both a
+saint and a heroine.</div>
+
+<p>I committed a great folly when I was young and ignorant; for I left my
+father's house and hid myself in London only that I might escape the
+match he desired to make for me. I knew nothing at that time of the
+dangers and sorrows of those who live in the world and are mixed in its
+affairs.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was a time of public peril, and not a few who dwelt in the quiet
+corners of the earth found themselves embroiled suddenly in great
+matters of state. For when the Duke of Monmouth landed in Dorsetshire it
+was not the dwellers in great cities or the intriguers of the Court that
+followed him chiefly to their undoing; it was the peasant who left his
+plough and the cloth-worker his loom. Men who could neither read nor
+write were caught up by the cry of a Protestant leader, and went after
+him to their ruin.</p>
+
+<p>The prince to whose standard they flocked was, for all his sweet and
+taking manners, but a profligate at best; he had no true religion in his
+heart&mdash;nothing but a desire, indeed, for his own aggrandisement,
+whatever he might say to the unhappy maid that handed a Bible <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>to him at
+Taunton. But of this the people were ignorant, and so it came to pass
+that they were led to destruction in a fruitless cause.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">French Leave</div>
+
+<p>But there were, besides the men that died nobly in a mistaken struggle
+for religious freedom, others that joined the army from mean and ignoble
+motives, and others again that had not the courage to go through with
+that which they had begun, but turned coward and traitor at the last.</p>
+
+<p>Of one of them I am now to write, and I will say of him no more evil
+than must be.</p>
+
+<p>How I, that had fled away from the part of the country where this
+trouble was, before its beginning, became mixed in it was strange
+enough.</p>
+
+<p>I had, as I said, run away to escape from the match that my father
+proposed for me; and yet it was not from any dislike of Tom Windham, the
+neighbour's son with whom I was to have mated, that I did this; but
+chiefly from a dislike that I had to settle in the place where I had
+been bred; for I thought myself weary of a country life and the little
+town whither we went to market; and I desired to see somewhat of life in
+a great city and the gaiety stirring there.</p>
+
+<div><a name="gallants" id="gallants"></a></div>
+<div class="figright" style="width: 241px;">
+<img src="images/6.jpg" width="241" height="400" alt="GALLANTS LOUNGING IN THE PARK." title="GALLANTS LOUNGING IN THE PARK." />
+<span class="caption">GALLANTS LOUNGING IN THE PARK.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>There dwelt in London a cousin of my mother, whose husband was a mercer,
+and who had visited us a year before&mdash;when she was newly married&mdash;and
+pressed me to go back with her.</p>
+
+<p>"La!" she had said to me, "I know not how you endure this life, where
+there is nothing to do but to listen for the grass growing and the
+flowers opening. 'Twould drive me mad in a month."</p>
+
+<p>Then she told me of the joyous racket of a great city, and the gay shows
+and merry sports to be had there. But my father would not permit me to
+go with her.</p>
+
+<p>However, I resolved to ask no leave when the question of my marriage
+came on; and so, without more ado, I slipped away by the first occasion
+that came, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>when my friends were least suspecting it, and, leaving only
+a message writ on paper to bid them have no uneasiness, for I knew how
+to take care of myself, I contrived, after sundry adventures, to reach
+London.</p>
+
+<p>I arrived at an ill time, for there was sickness in the house of my
+cousin Alstree. However, she made me welcome as well as might be, and
+wrote to my father suddenly of my whereabouts. My father being sore
+displeased at the step I had taken, sent me word by the next messenger
+that came that way that I might even stay where I had put myself.</p>
+
+<p>So now I had all my desire, and should have been content; but matters
+did not turn out as I had expected. There might be much gaiety in the
+town; but I saw little of it. My cousin was occupied with her own
+concerns, having now a sickly baby to turn her mind from thoughts of her
+own diversion; her husband was a sour-tempered man; and the prentices
+that were in the house were ill-mannered and ill-bred.</p>
+
+
+<p>There was in truth a Court no farther away than Whitehall. I saw
+gallants lounging and talking together in the Park, games on the Mall,
+and soldiers and horses in the streets and squares; but none of these
+had any concern with me.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The news of the Duke's landing was brought to London while I was still
+at my cousin's, but it made the less stir in her household because of
+the sickness there; and presently a new and grievous trouble fell upon
+us. My cousin Alstree was stricken with the small-pox, and in five days
+she and her baby were both dead. The house seemed no longer a fit place
+for me, and her husband was as one distracted; yet I had nowhere else to
+go to.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that a woman whom I had seen before and liked little came to
+my assistance. Her name was Elizabeth Gaunt.</p>
+
+<p>She was an Anabaptist and, as I thought, fanatical. She spent her life
+in good works, and cared nothing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>for dress, or food, or pleasure. Her
+manner to me had been stern, and I thought her poor and of no account;
+for what money she had was given mostly to others. But when she knew of
+my trouble she offered me a place in her house, bargaining only that I
+should help her in the work of it.</p>
+
+<p>"My maid that I had has left me to be married," she said; "'twould be
+waste to hire another while you sit idle."</p>
+
+<p>I was in too evil a plight to be particular, so that I went with her
+willingly. And this I must confess, that the tasks she set me were
+irksome enough, but yet I was happier with her than I had been with my
+cousin Alstree, for I had the less time for evil and regretful thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>Now it befell that one night, when we were alone together, there came a
+knocking at the house door.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Strange Visitor</div>
+
+<p>I went to open it, and found a tall man standing on the threshold. I was
+used to those that came to seek charity, who were mostly women or
+children, the poor, the sick, or the old. But this man, as I saw by the
+light I carried with me, was sturdy and well built; moreover, the cloak
+that was wrapped about him was neither ragged or ill-made, only the hat
+that he had upon his head was crushed in the brim.</p>
+
+<p>He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, and this frightened me
+somewhat, for we were two lone women, and the terror of my country
+breeding clung to me. There was, it is true, nothing in the house worth
+stealing, but yet a stranger might not know this.</p>
+
+<p>"Doth Mrs. Gaunt still live in this house?" he asked. "Is she not a
+woman that is very, charitable and ready to help those that are in
+trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>I looked at him, wondering what his trouble might be, for he seemed
+well-to-do and comfortable, except for the hat-brim. Yet he spoke with
+urgency, and it flashed upon me that his need might not be for himself,
+but another.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I was about to answer him when he, whose eye had left me to wander round
+the narrow passage where we were, caught sight of a rim of light under a
+doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"Is she in that chamber, and alone? What, then, are you afraid of?" he
+asked, with impatience. "Do you think I would hurt a good creature like
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>"You would be a cruel wretch, indeed, to do it," I answered, plucking up
+a little spirit, "for she lives only to show kindness to others."</p>
+
+<p>"So I have been told. 'Tis the same woman," and without more ado he
+stalked past me to the door of her room, where she sat reading a Bible
+as her custom was; so he opened it and went in.</p>
+
+<p>I stood without in the passage, trembling still a little, and uncertain
+of his purpose, yet remembering his words and the horror he had shown at
+the thought of doing any hurt to my mistress. I said to myself that he
+could not be a wicked man, and that there was nothing to fear. But,
+well-a-day, well-a-day, we know not what is before us, nor the evil that
+we shall do before we die. Of a surety the man that I let in that night
+had no thought of what he should do; yet he came in the end to do it,
+and even to justify the doing of it.</p>
+
+<p>I waited outside, as I have said, and the sound of voices came to me. I
+thought to myself once, "Shall I go nearer and listen?" though it was
+only for my mistress's sake that I considered it, being no eavesdropper.
+But I did not go, and in so abstaining I was kept safe in the greatest
+danger I have been in throughout my life. For if I had heard and known,
+my fate might have been like hers; and should I have had the strength to
+endure it?</p>
+
+<p>In a little time the door opened and she came out alone. Her face was
+paler even than ordinary, and she gave a start on seeing me stand there.</p>
+
+<p>"Child," she said, "have you heard what passed between us on the other
+side of that door?"</p>
+
+<p>I answered that I had not heard a word; and then she beckoned me to
+follow her into the kitchen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When we were alone there I put down my candle on the deal table, and
+stood still while she looked at me searchingly. I could see that there
+was more in her manner than I understood.</p>
+
+<p>"Child," she said, "I have had to trust you before when I have given
+help to those in trouble, and you have not been wanting in discretion;
+yet you are but a child to trust."</p>
+
+<p>"If you tell me nothing I can repeat nothing," I answered proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet you know something already. Can you keep silent entirely and under
+all circumstances as to what has happened since you opened the street
+door?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is not my custom to gabble about your affairs."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you seek to learn no more and to understand no more?"</p>
+
+<p>"I desire to know nothing of the affairs of others, if they do not
+choose to tell me of their own free will."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at me and sighed a little, at the which I marvelled somewhat,
+for it was ever her custom to trust in God and so to go forward without
+question.</p>
+
+<p>"You are young and ill prepared for trial, yet you have wandered
+alone&mdash;silly lassie that you are&mdash;into a wilderness of wolves."</p>
+
+<p>"There is trouble everywhere," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"And danger too," she said; "but there is trouble that we seek for
+ourselves, and trouble that God sends to us. You will do well, when you
+are safe at home, to wander no more. Now go to bed and rest."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I not get a meal for your guest?" I asked; for I was well aware
+that the man had not yet left the house.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Ask no Questions!"</div>
+
+<p>"Do my bidding and ask no questions," she said, more sternly than was
+her custom. So I took my candle and went away silently, she following me
+to my chamber. When I was there she bid me pray to God for all who were
+in danger and distress, then I heard that she turned the key upon me on
+the outside and went away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I undressed with some sullenness, being ill-content at the mistrust she
+showed; but presently she came to the chamber herself, and prayed long
+before she lay down beside me.</p>
+
+<p>And now a strange time followed. I saw no more of that visitor that had
+come to the house lately, nor knew at what time he went away, or if he
+had attained the end he sought. My mistress busied me mostly in the
+lower part of the house, and went out very little herself, keeping on me
+all the while a strict guard and surveillance beyond her wont.</p>
+
+<p>But at last a charitable call came to her, which she never refused; and
+so she left me alone, with instructions to remain between the kitchen
+and the street-door, and by no means to leave the house or to hold
+discourse with any that came, more than need be.</p>
+
+<p>I sat alone in the kitchen, fretting a little against her injunctions,
+and calling to mind the merry evenings in the parlour at home, where I
+had sported and gossiped with my comrades. I loved not solitude, and
+sighed to think that I had now nothing to listen to but the great clock
+against the wall, nothing to speak to but the cat that purred at my
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>I was, however, presently to have company that I little expected. For,
+as I sat with my seam in my hand, I heard a step upon the stairs; and
+yet I had let none into the house, but esteemed myself alone there.</p>
+
+<p>It came from above, where was an upper chamber, and a loft little used.</p>
+
+<p>My heart beat quickly, so that I was afraid to go out into the passage,
+for there I must meet that which descended, man or spirit as it might
+be. I heard the foot on the lowest stair, and then it turned towards the
+little closet where my mistress often sat alone at her devotions.</p>
+
+<p>While it lingered there I wondered whether I should rush out into the
+street, and seek the help and company of some neighbour. But I
+remembered Mrs. Gaunt's injunction; and, moreover, another thought
+restrained <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>me. It was that of the man that I had let into the house and
+never seen again. It might well be that he had never left the place, and
+that I should be betraying a secret by calling in a stranger to look at
+him.</p>
+
+<p>So I stood trembling by the deal table until the step sounded again and
+came on to the kitchen.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Man Again</div>
+
+<p>The door opened, and a man stood there. It was the same whom I had seen
+before.</p>
+
+<p>He looked round quickly, and gave me a courteous greeting; his manner
+was, indeed, pleasant enough, and there was nothing in his look to set a
+maid trembling at the sight of him.</p>
+
+<p>"I am in luck," he said, "for I heard Mrs. Gaunt go out some time since,
+and I am sick of that upper chamber where she keeps me shut up."</p>
+
+<p>"If she keeps you shut up, sir," I said, his manner giving me back all
+my self-possession, "sure she has some very good reason."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know her reason?" he asked with abruptness.</p>
+
+<p>"No, nor seek to know it, unless she chooses to tell me. I did not even
+guess that she had you in hiding."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Gaunt is careful, but I can trust the lips that now reprove me.
+They were made for better things than betraying a friend. I would
+willingly have some good advice from them, seeing that they speak wise
+words so readily." And so saying he sat down on the settle, and looked
+at me smiling.</p>
+
+<p>I was offended, and with reason, at the freedom of his speech; yet, his
+manner, was so much beyond anything I had been accustomed to for ease
+and pleasantness, that I soon forgave him, and when he encouraged me,
+began to prattle about my affairs, being only, with all my conceit, the
+silly lassie my mistress had called me.</p>
+
+<p>I talked of my home and my own kindred, and the friends I had had&mdash;which
+things had now all the charm of remoteness for me&mdash;and he listened with
+interest, catching up the names of places, and even of persons, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>as if
+they were not altogether strange to him, and asking me further of them.</p>
+
+<p>"What could make you leave so happy a home for such a dungeon as this?"
+he asked, looking round.</p>
+
+<p>Then I hung my head, and reddened foolishly, but he gave a loud laugh
+and said, "I can well understand. There was some country lout that your
+father would have wedded you to. That is the way with the prettiest
+maidens."</p>
+
+<p>"Tom Windham was no country lout," I answered proudly; upon which he
+leaned forward and asked, "What name was that you said? Windham? and
+from Westover? Is he a tall fellow with straw-coloured hair and a cut
+over his left eye?"</p>
+
+<p>"He got it in a good cause," I answered swiftly; "have you seen him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, lately. It is the same. Lucky fellow! I would I were in his place
+now." And he fell straightway into a moody taking, looking down as if he
+had forgotten me.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, do you say so?" I stammered foolishly, "when&mdash;when&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"When you have run away from him? Not for that, little maid;" and he
+broke again into a laugh that had mischief in it. "But because when we
+last met he was in luck and I out of it, yet we guessed it not at the
+time."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad he is doing well," I said proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then should you be sorry for me that am in trouble," he answered. "For
+I have no home now, nor am like to have, but must go beyond seas and
+begin a new life as best I may."</p>
+
+<p>"I am indeed sorry, for it is sad to be alone. If Mrs. Gaunt had not
+been kind to me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Interrupted</div>
+
+<p>"And to me," he interrupted, "we should never have met. She is a good
+woman, your mistress Gaunt."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet, I have heard that beyond seas there are many diversions," I
+answered, to turn the talk from myself, seeing that he was minded to be
+too familiar.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"For those that start with good company and pleasant companions. If I
+had a pleasant companion, one that would smile upon me with bright eyes
+when I was sad, and scold me with her pretty lips when I went
+astray&mdash;for there is nothing like a pretty Puritan for keeping a
+careless man straight."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sir!" I cried, starting to my feet as he put his hand across the
+deal table to mine; and then the door opened and Elizabeth Gaunt came
+in.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," she said, "you have committed a breach of hospitality in entering
+a chamber to which I have never invited you. Will you go back to your
+own?"</p>
+
+<p>He bowed with a courteous apology and muttered something about the
+temptation being too great. Then he left us alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Child," she said to me, "has that man told you anything of his own
+affairs?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only that he is in trouble, and must fly beyond seas."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray God he may go quickly," she said devoutly. "I fear he is no man to
+be trusted."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet you help him," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I help many that I could not trust," she said with quietness; "they
+have the more need of help." And in truth I know that much of her good
+work was among those evil-doers that others shrank from.</p>
+
+<p>"This man seems strong enough to help himself," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Would that he may go quickly," was all her answer. "If the means could
+but be found!"</p>
+
+<p>Then she spoke to me with great urgency, commanding me to hold no
+discourse with him nor with any concerning him.</p>
+
+<p>I did my best to fulfil her bidding, yet it was difficult; for he was a
+man who knew the world and how to take his own way in it. He contrived
+more than once to see me, and to pay a kind of court to me, half in jest
+and half in earnest; so that I was sometimes flattered and sometimes
+angered, and sometimes frighted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then other circumstances happened unexpectedly, for I had a visitor that
+I had never looked to see there.</p>
+
+<p>I kept indoors altogether, fearing to be questioned by the neighbours;
+but on a certain afternoon there came a knocking, and when I went to
+open Tom Windham walked in.</p>
+
+<p>I gave a cry of joy, because the sight of an old friend was pleasant in
+that strange place, and it was not immediately that I could recover
+myself and ask what his business was.</p>
+
+<p>"I came to seek you," he said, "for I had occasion to leave my own part
+of the country for the present."</p>
+<div><a name="looking" id="looking"></a></div>
+<div class="figright" style="width: 243px;">
+<img src="images/7.jpg" width="243" height="400" alt="&quot;LOOKING AT HIM, I SAW THAT HE WAS HAGGARD AND STRANGE.&quot;" title="&quot;LOOKING AT HIM, I SAW THAT HE WAS HAGGARD AND STRANGE.&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;LOOKING AT HIM, I SAW THAT HE WAS HAGGARD AND STRANGE.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Looking at him, I saw that he was haggard and strange, and had not the
+confidence that was his formerly.</p>
+
+<p>"There has been a rising there," I answered him, "and trouble among
+many?"</p>
+
+<p>"Much trouble," he said with gloom. Then he fell to telling me how such
+of the neighbours were dead, and others were in hiding, while there were
+still more that went about their work in fear for their lives, lest any
+should inform against them.</p>
+
+<p>"Your father's brother was taken on Sedgemoor with a pike in his hand,"
+he added, "and your father has been busy ever since, raising money to
+buy his pardon&mdash;for they say that money can do much."</p>
+
+<p>"That is ill news, indeed," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come to London on my own affairs, and been to seek you at your
+cousin Alstree's. When I learnt of the trouble that had befallen I
+followed you to this house, and right glad I am that you are safe with
+so good a woman as Mrs. Gaunt."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should you be in London when the whole countryside at home is
+in gaol or in mourning? Have you no friend to help? Did you sneak away
+to be out of it all?" I asked with the silly petulance of a maid that
+knows nothing and will say anything.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, hanging his head like one ashamed, "I sneaked away to be
+out of it all."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It vexed me to see him so, and I went on in a manner that it pleased me
+little afterwards to remember. "You, that talked so of the Protestant
+cause! you, that were ready to fight against Popery! you were not one of
+those that marched for Bristol or fought at Sedgemoor?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, "I did neither of these things."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet you have run away from the sight of your neighbours' trouble&mdash;lest,
+I suppose, you should anyways be involved in it. Well, 'twas a man's
+part!"</p>
+
+<p>He was about to answer me when we both started to hear a sound in the
+house. There was a foot on the stairs that I knew well. Tom turned aside
+and listened, for we had now withdrawn to the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"That is a man's tread," he said; "I thought you lived alone with Mrs.
+Elizabeth Gaunt."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Gaunt spends her life in good works," I answered, "and shows
+kindness to others beside me."</p>
+
+<p>I raised my voice in hopes that the man might hear me and come no
+nearer, but the stupid fellow had waxed so confident that he came right
+in and stood amazed.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"You!"</div>
+
+<p>"You!" he said; and Tom answered, "You!"</p>
+
+<p>So they stood and glared at one another.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were in a safe place," said Tom, swinging round to me.</p>
+
+<p>"She is in no danger from me," said the man.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you so foolish as to think so?" asked Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"If you keep your mouth shut she is in no danger," was the answer.</p>
+
+<p>"That may be," said Tom. Yet he turned to me and said, "You must come
+away from here."</p>
+
+<p>"I have nowhere to go to&mdash;and I will not leave Mrs. Gaunt."</p>
+
+<p>"I am myself going away," the man said.</p>
+
+<p>"How soon?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-night maybe; to-morrow night at farthest."</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis a great danger," said Tom, "and I thought you so safe." Again he
+spoke to me.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there danger from <i>you?</i>" the man asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you take me for a scoundrel?" was the wrathful reply.</p>
+
+<p>"A man will do much to keep his skin whole."</p>
+
+<p>"There are some things no man will do that is a man and no worse."</p>
+
+<p>"Truly you might have easily been in my place; and you would not inform
+against a comrade?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should be a black traitor to do it."</p>
+
+<p>Yet there was a blacker treachery possible, such as we none of us
+conceived the very nature of, not even the man that had the heart to
+harbour it afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>Tom would not leave me until Mrs. Gaunt came in, and then they had a
+private talk together. She begged him to come to the house no more at
+present, because of the suspicions that even so innocent a visitor might
+bring upon it at that time of public disquiet.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall contrive to get word to her father that he would do well to
+come and fetch her," he said, in my hearing, and she answered that he
+could not contrive a better thing.</p>
+
+<p>The man that, as I now understood, we had in hiding went out that night
+after it was dark, but he came back again; and he did so on the night
+that followed. Mrs. Gaunt, perceiving that she could not altogether keep
+him from my company, and that the hope of his safe departure grew less,
+began to show great uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p>"I see not how I am to get away," the man said gloomily when he found
+occasion for a word with me; "and the danger increases each day. Yet
+there is one way&mdash;one way."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not take it and go?" I asked lightly.</p>
+
+<p>"I may take it yet. A man has but one life." He spoke savagely and
+morosely; for his manner was now altered, and he paid me no more
+compliments.</p>
+
+<p>There came a night on which he went out and came back no more.</p>
+
+<p>"I trust in God," said Mrs. Gaunt, who used this word always in
+reverence and not lightly, "that he has <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>made his escape and not fallen
+into the hands of his enemies."</p>
+
+<p>The house seemed lighter because he was gone, and we went about our work
+cheerfully. Later, when some strange men came to the door&mdash;as I, looking
+through an upper window, could see&mdash;Mrs. Gaunt opened to them smiling,
+for the place was now ready to be searched, and there was none to give
+any evidence who the man was that had lately hidden there.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Arrested</div>
+
+<p>But there was no search. The men had come for Elizabeth Gaunt herself,
+and they told her, in my hearing, that she was accused of having given
+shelter to one of Monmouth's men, and the punishment of this crime was
+death.</p>
+
+<p>It did not seem to me at first possible that such a woman as Elizabeth
+Gaunt, that had never concerned herself with plots or politics, but
+spent her life wholly in good works, should be taken up as a public
+enemy and so treated only because she had given shelter to a man that
+had fled for his life. Yet this was, as I now learnt, the law. But there
+still seemed no possibility of any conviction, for who was there to give
+witness against her of the chief fact, namely, that she had known the
+man she sheltered to be one that had fought against the King? Her house
+was open always to those that were in trouble or danger, and no question
+asked. There were none of her neighbours that would have spied upon her,
+seeing that she had the reputation of a saint among them; and none to
+whom she had given her confidence. She had withheld it even from me, nor
+could I certainly say that she had the knowledge that was charged
+against her. For Windham was out of the way now&mdash;on my business, as I
+afterwards discovered; and if he had been nigh at hand he would have had
+more wisdom than to show himself at this juncture.</p>
+
+<p>When I was taken before the judge, and, terrified as I was, questioned
+with so much roughness that I suspected a desire to fright me further,
+so that I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>might say whatever they that questioned me desired, even then
+they could, happily, discover nothing that told against my mistress,
+because I knew nothing.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of all my confusion and distress, I uttered no word that could
+be used against Elizabeth Gaunt.</p>
+
+<p>I saw now her wise and kind care of me, in that she had not put me into
+the danger she was in herself. It seemed too that she must escape,
+seeing that there was none to give witness against her.</p>
+
+<p>And then the truth came out, that the villain himself, tempted by the
+offer of the King to pardon those rebels that should betray their
+entertainers, had gone of his own accord and bought his safety at the
+cost of her life that had sheltered and fed him.</p>
+
+<p>When the time came that he must give his evidence, the villain stepped
+forward with a swaggering impudence that ill-concealed his secret shame,
+and swore not only that Elizabeth Gaunt had given him shelter, but
+moreover that she had done it knowing who he was and where he came from.
+And so she was condemned to death, and, in the strange cruelty of the
+law, because she was a woman and adjudged guilty of treason, she must be
+burnt alive.</p>
+
+<p>She had no great friends to help her, no money with which to bribe the
+wicked court; yet I could not believe that a King who called himself a
+Christian&mdash;though of that cruel religion that has since hunted so many
+thousands of the best men out of France, or tortured them in their homes
+there&mdash;could abide to let a woman die, only because she had been
+merciful to a man that was his enemy. I went about like one distracted,
+seeking help where there was no help, and it was only when I went to the
+gaol and saw Elizabeth herself&mdash;which I was permitted to do for a
+farewell&mdash;that I found any comfort.</p>
+
+<p>"We must all die one day," she said, "and why not now, in a good cause?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it a good cause," I cried, "to die for one that is a coward, a
+villain, a traitor?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Nay," she answered, "you mistake. I die for the cause of charity. I die
+to fulfil my Master's command of kindness and mercy."</p>
+
+<p>"But the man was unworthy," I repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"What of that? The love is worthy that would have helped him; the
+charity is worthy that would have served him. Gladly do I die for having
+lived in love and charity. They are the courts of God's holy house. They
+are filled full of peace and joy. In their peace and joy may I abide
+until God receives me, unworthy, into His inner temple."</p>
+
+<p>"But the horror of the death! Oh, how can you bear it?"</p>
+
+<p>"God will show me how when the time comes," she said, with the
+simplicity of a perfect faith.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Death by Fire</div>
+
+<p>And of a truth He did show her; for they that stood by her at the last
+testified how her high courage did not fail; no, nor her joy either; for
+she laid the straw about her cheerfully for her burning, and thanked God
+that she was permitted to die in this cruel manner for a religion that
+was all love.</p>
+
+<p>I could not endure to watch that which she could suffer joyfully, but at
+first I remained in the outskirts of the crowd. When I pressed forward
+after and saw her bound there&mdash;she that had sat at meals with me and
+lain in my bed at night&mdash;and that they were about to put a torch to the
+faggots and kindle them, I fell back in a swoon. Some that were merciful
+pulled me out of the throng, and cast water upon me; and William Penn
+the Quaker, that stood by (whom I knew by sight&mdash;and a strange show this
+was that he had come with the rest to look upon), spoke to me kindly,
+and bid me away to my home, seeing that I had no courage for such
+dreadful sights.</p>
+
+<p>So I hurried away, ashamed of my own cowardice, and weeping sorely,
+leaving behind me the tumult of the crowd, and smelling in the air the
+smoke of the kindled faggots. I put my fingers in my ears and ran back
+to the empty house: there to fall on my knees, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>to pray to God for mercy
+for myself, and to cry aloud against the cruelty of men.</p>
+
+<p>Then there happened a thing which I remember even now with shame.</p>
+
+<p>The man who had betrayed my mistress came disguised (for he was now at
+liberty to fly from the anger of the populace and the horror of his
+friends) and he begged me to go with him and to share his fortunes,
+telling me that he feared solitude above everything, and crying to me to
+help him against his own dreadful thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>I answered him with horror and indignation; but he said I should rather
+pity him, seeing that many another man would have acted so in his place;
+and others might have been in his place easily enough.</p>
+
+<p>"For," said he, "your friend Windham was among those that came to take
+service under the Duke and had to be sent away because there were no
+more arms. He was sorely disappointed that he could not join us."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said I suddenly, "this was doubtless the reason why he fled the
+country&mdash;lest any should inform against him."</p>
+
+<p>"That is so," he answered; "and a narrow escape he has had; for if he
+had fought as he desired he might well have been in my place this day."</p>
+
+<p>"In Elizabeth Gaunt's rather!" I answered. "He would himself have died
+at the stake before he could have been brought to betray the woman that
+had helped him."</p>
+
+<p>"You had a poorer opinion of him a short while ago."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew not the world. I knew not men. I knew not <i>you</i>. Go! Go! Take
+away your miserable life&mdash;for which two good and useful lives have been
+given&mdash;and make what you can of it. I would&mdash;coward as I am&mdash;go back to
+my mistress and die with her rather than have any share in it!"</p>
+
+<p>He tarried no more, and I was left alone. Not a creature came near me.
+It may be that my neighbours <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>had seen him enter, and thought of me with
+horror as a condoner of his crime; it may be that they were afraid to
+meddle with a house that had fallen into so terrible a trouble; or that
+the frightful hurricane that burst forth and raged that day (as if to
+show that God's anger was aroused and His justice, though delayed, not
+forgotten) kept them trembling in their houses.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Knocking at Nightfall</div>
+
+<p>What would have befallen me if I had been left long alone in that great
+and evil city I know not, for I had no wits left to make any plans for
+myself. At nightfall, however, there came once more a knocking, and when
+I opened the door my father stood on the threshold. There seemed no
+strangeness in his presence, and I fell into his arms weeping, so that
+he, seeing how grievous had been my punishment, forbore to make any
+reproach.</p>
+
+<p>The next day began our journey home, and I have never since returned to
+London; but when I got back to the place I had so foolishly left I found
+it sadder than before. Many friends were gone away or dead. Some honest
+lads, with whom I had jested at fair-times, hung withering on the
+ghastly gallows by the wayside; others lay in unknown graves; others
+languished in gaol or on board ship. My father's own brother, though his
+life was spared, had been sent away to the plantations to be sold, and
+to work as a slave.</p>
+
+<p>It was some time before Tom Windham&mdash;that had, at considerable risk to
+himself, sent my father to fetch me&mdash;ventured to settle again in his old
+place; and for a long time after that he was shy of addressing me.</p>
+
+<p>But I was changed now as much as he was. I had seen what the world was,
+and knew the value of an honest love in it. So that, in the end, we came
+to an understanding, and have been married these many years.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Girl Life in Canada</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Janey Canuck</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">What is girl life like in newer Canada&mdash;in lands to which so
+many of our brothers are going just now? This article&mdash;written in the
+Far North-West&mdash;supplies the answer.</div>
+
+<p>If you leave out France, Canada is as large as all Europe; which means
+that the girls of our Dominion live under climatic, domestic, and social
+conditions that are many and varied. It is of the girls in the newer
+provinces I shall write&mdash;those provinces known as "North-West
+Canada"&mdash;who reside in the country adjacent to some town or village.</p>
+
+<p>It is true that many girls who come here with their fathers and mothers
+often live a long distance from a town or even a railroad.</p>
+
+<p>Where I live at Edmonton, the capital of the Province of Alberta, almost
+every day in the late winter we see girls starting off to the Peach
+River district, which lies to the north several hundred miles from a
+railroad.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Travelling House</div>
+
+<p>How do they travel? You could never guess, so I may as well tell you.
+They travel in a house&mdash;a one-roomed house. It is built on a sled and
+furnished with a stove, a table that folds against the wall, a cupboard
+for food and dishes, nails for clothing, and a box for toilet
+accessories. Every available inch is stored with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> supplies, so that
+every one must perforce sleep on the floor. This family bed is, however,
+by no means uncomfortable, for the "soft side of the board" is piled
+high with fur rugs and four-point blankets. (Yes, if you remind me I'll
+tell you by and by what a "four-point" blanket is.)</p>
+
+<p>The entrance to the house is from the back, and the window is in front,
+through a slide in which the lines extend to the heads of the horses or
+the awkward, stumbling oxen.</p>
+
+<p>You must not despise the oxen, or say, "A pretty, team for a Canadian
+girl!" for, indeed, they are most reliable animals, and not nearly so
+delicate as horses, nor so hard to feed&mdash;and they never, never run away.
+Besides&mdash;and here's the rub&mdash;you can always eat the oxen should you ever
+want to, and popular prejudice does not run in favour of horseflesh.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, yes! I said I would tell you about "four-point" blankets. They are
+the blankets that have been manufactured for nearly three hundred years
+by "the Honourable Company of Gentlemen Adventurers of England trading
+into Hudson's Bay," known for the sake of conciseness as the "H.B.
+Company." These blankets are claimed to be the best in the world, and
+weigh from eight to ten pounds. The Indians, traders, trappers, boatmen,
+and pioneers in the North use no others. They are called "four-point"
+because of four black stripes at one corner. There are lighter blankets
+of three and a half points, which points are indicated in the same way.
+By these marks an Indian knows exactly what value he is getting in
+exchange for his precious peltry.</p>
+
+<p>After travelling for three or four weeks in this gipsy fashion, mayhap
+getting a peep at a moose, a wolf, or even a bear (to say nothing of
+such inconsequential fry as ermine, mink, beaver, and otter), the family
+arrive at their holding of 160 acres.</p>
+
+<p>It does not look very pleasant, this holding. The snow is just melting,
+and the landscape is dreary enough <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>on every side, for as yet Spring has
+not even suggested that green is the colour you may expect to see in
+Nature's fashion-plate. Not she!</p>
+
+<p>But here's the point. Look you here! the house is already built for
+occupancy, and has only to be moved from the sled to the ground. There
+is no occasion for a plumber or gasfitter either, and as for water and
+fuel, they are everywhere to be had for the taking.</p>
+
+<p>Presently other rooms will be added of lumber or logs, and a cellar
+excavated. But who worries about these things when they have just become
+possessors of 160 statute acres of land that have to be prepared for
+grain and garden stuff? Who, indeed?</p>
+
+<p>Here is where the girl comes in. She must learn to bake bread and cakes,
+how to dress game and fish, and how to make bacon appetising twice a
+day. She must "set" the hens so that there may be "broilers" against
+Thanksgiving Day, and eggs all the year round. She has to sow the
+lettuces, radishes, and onions for succulent salads; and always she must
+supply sunshine and music, indoors and out, for dad and mother and the
+boys.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps you think she is not happy, but you are sadly mistaken. She is
+busy all day and sleepy all night. She knows that after a while a
+railroad is coming in here, and there will be work and money for men and
+teams, which means the establishment of a town near by, where you may
+purchase all kinds of household comforts and conveniences, to say
+nothing of pretty blouses, hats, and other "fixings." Oh, she knows it,
+the minx! She is the kind of a girl Charles Wagner describes as putting
+"witchery into a ribbon and genius into a stew."</p>
+
+<p>But let us take a look at the girl who lives in the more settled parts
+of the country, near a town.</p>
+
+<p>If she be ambitious, or anxious to help the home-folk, she will want to
+become a teacher, a bookkeeper, Civil Service employee, or a
+stenographer. To accomplish this end, she drives to town every day to
+attend <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>the High School or Business College. Or perhaps she may move
+into town for the school terms.</p>
+
+<p>Of all these occupations, that of the teacher is most popular. Teachers,
+in these new provinces, are in great demand, for the supply is entirely
+inadequate. As a result, they are especially well paid.</p>
+
+<p>If the teacher is hard to get, she is also hard to hold; for the
+bachelor population being largely in the majority, there are many
+flattering inducements of a matrimonial character held out to the girl
+teacher to settle down permanently with a young farmer, doctor, real
+estate agent, lawyer, or merchant. You could never believe what
+inducements these sly fellows hold out. Never!</p>
+
+<p>In town our girls find many diversions. She may skate, ride, play golf,
+basket-ball, or tennis, according as her purse or preference may
+dictate.</p>
+
+<p>If there be no municipal public library, or reading-room in connection
+with the Young Women's Christian Association, she may borrow books from
+a stationer's lending-library for a nominal sum, so that none of her
+hours need be unoccupied or unprofitable.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Young Men and Maidens</div>
+
+<p>In Canadian towns and villages the Church-life is of such a nature that
+every opportunity is given young girls to become acquainted with others
+of their own age. There are literary, temperance, missionary, and social
+clubs in connection with them, some one of which meets almost every
+night. In the winter the clubs have sleigh-rides and suppers, and in the
+summer lawn-socials and picnics much as they do in England, or in any
+part of the British Isles.</p>
+
+<p>Compared with girls in the older countries, it is my opinion that the
+Canadian lassie of the North-West Provinces has a keener eye to the
+material side of life. This is only a natural outcome of the commercial
+atmosphere in which she lives.</p>
+
+<p>She sees her father, or her friends, buying lots in some new town site,
+or in a new subdivision of some city, and, with an eye to the main
+chance, she desires <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>to follow their example. These lots can be
+purchased at from &pound;10 to &pound;100, and by holding them for from one to five
+years they double or treble in value as the places become populated.</p>
+
+<p>As a result, nearly all the girls employed in Government offices, or as
+secretaries, teachers, or other positions where the salaries are fairly
+generous, manage to save enough money to purchase some lots to hold
+against a rise. After investing and reinvesting several times, our girl
+soon has a financial status of her own and secures a competency. She has
+no time for nervous prostration or moods, but is alert and wideawake all
+the time.</p>
+
+<p>Does she marry? Oh, yes! But owing to her financial independence,
+marriage is in no sense of the word a "Hobson's choice," but is
+generally guided entirely by heart and conscience, as, indeed, it always
+should be.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the girls who come from Europe or the British Isles save their
+dollars to enable the rest of the family to come out to Canada.</p>
+
+<p>"Wee Maggie," a waitress in a Winnipeg restaurant, told me the other day
+that in three years she had saved enough to bring her aged father and
+mother over from Scotland and to furnish a home for them.</p>
+
+<p>Still other girls engage in fruit-farming in British Columbia, or in
+poultry-raising; but these are undertakings that require some capital to
+start with.</p>
+
+<p>An increasingly large number of Canadian girls are taking University
+courses, or courses in technical colleges and musical conservatoires,
+with the idea of fitting themselves as High School teachers or for the
+medical profession.</p>
+
+<p>In speaking of the girls of Western Canada, one must not overlook the
+Swedish, Russian, Italian, Galician, and other Europeans who have made
+their home in the Dominion.</p>
+
+<p>The Handicrafts Guild is helping these girls to support themselves by
+basketry, weaving, lace and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>bead making, pottery, and needlework
+generally. Prizes are offered annually in the different centres for the
+best work, and all articles submitted are afterwards placed on sale in
+one of their work depositories. This association is doing a splendid
+work, in that they are making the arts both honourable and profitable.</p>
+
+<p>While this article has chiefly concerned itself with the domestic and
+peaceful pursuits of our Canadian girls, it must not be forgotten that
+in times of stress they have shown themselves to be heroines who have
+always been equal to their occasions.</p>
+
+<p>Our favourite heroine is, perhaps, Madeleine de Verch&egrave;res, who, in the
+early days when the Indians were an ever-present menace to the settlers
+on the St. Lawrence River, successfully defended her father's seignory
+against a band of savage Iroquois.</p>
+
+<p>Her father had left an old man of eighty, two soldiers, and Madeleine
+and her two little brothers to guard the fort during his absence in
+Quebec.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Girl Captain</div>
+
+<p>One day a host of Indians attacked them so suddenly they had hardly time
+to barricade the windows and doors. The fight was so fierce the soldiers
+considered it useless to continue it, but Madeleine ordered them to
+their posts, and for a week, night and day, kept them there. She taught
+her little brothers how to load and fire the guns so rapidly that the
+Indians were deceived and thought the fort well garrisoned.</p>
+
+<p>When a reinforcement came to her relief, it was a terribly exhausted
+little girl that stepped out to welcome them at the head of the
+defenders&mdash;Captain Madeleine Verch&egrave;res, aged fourteen!</p>
+
+<p>Yes, we like to tell this story of Madeleine over and over.</p>
+
+<p>We like to paint pictures of her, too, and to mould her figure in
+bronze; for we know right well that she is a type of the strong, brave,
+resourceful lassies who in all ranks of our national life, may ever be
+counted upon to stand to their posts, be the end what it may.</p>
+
+<p>Gentlemen, hats off! The Canadian girl!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>"Such a Treasure!"</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Eileen O'Connell</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Evelyne resented the summons to rejoin her father in New
+Zealand. Yet she came to see that the call to service was a call to true
+happiness.</div>
+
+<p>"Evelyne, come to my room before you go to your singing lesson. I have
+had a most important letter from your father; the New Zealand mail came
+in this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Can I come now, Aunt Mary?" replied a clear voice, its owner appearing
+suddenly at the head of the stairs pinning on to a mass of sunny hair a
+very large hat. "I want to go early, for if I arrive first, I often get
+more than my regular time, and you know how greedy I am for new songs."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Trevor did not reply; she walked slowly into her morning-room and
+stood at the window looking perplexed and serious, thinking nothing
+about her niece's lessons, and looking at, without seeing, the midsummer
+beauty of her garden. A few minutes later the door opened, and she
+turned to the young girl, who with a song on her lips danced merrily
+into the room.</p>
+
+<p>At the sight of Mrs. Trevor's face she stopped suddenly, exclaiming,
+"Something is wrong! What has happened?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, Eva, something has happened&mdash;something, my child, that
+will affect your whole life."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> With a falter in her voice the woman
+continued, "You are to leave me, Evelyne, and go out to New Zealand. You
+are needed in your father's house."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"I Refuse to Go!"</div>
+
+<p>"To New Zealand?&mdash;I refuse to go."</p>
+
+<p>"You have no choice in the matter, dearest. Your mother has become a
+confirmed invalid, and is incapable of looking after the children and
+the house. Your father has naturally thought of you."</p>
+
+<p>"As a kind of servant to a heap of noisy boys, half of whom I never have
+seen even. I daresay it would be very convenient and very cheap to have
+me. However, I shall not go to that outlandish place they live at in New
+Zealand, and you must tell father so."</p>
+
+<p>"But I cannot, Evie. There is no choice about it. Your parents have the
+first claim on you, remember."</p>
+
+<p>"I deny that," said the girl passionately; "they cared so little about
+me that they were ready to give me to you and go to New Zealand without
+me; that fact, I think, ends their claims. And Auntie, having lived here
+for eight years, and being in every way happy, and with so much before
+me to make life worth living, how can they be so selfish as to wish to
+ruin my prospects and make me miserable?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eva, Eva, don't jump to conclusions! Instead of believing that the
+worst motives compelled your father's decision, think it just possible
+that they were the highest. Put yourself out of the question for the
+moment and face facts. Your parents were <i>not</i> willing to part with you;
+believe me, it was a bitter wrench to both to leave you behind. But
+settling up country in the colony was not an easy matter for my brother
+with his delicate wife and four children. Marjory was older than you, so
+of course more able to help with the boys, and knowing that his expenses
+would be very heavy and his means small, I offered to adopt you; for
+your sake, more than other considerations, I think, my offer was
+accepted. Since Marjory's death your mother has practically been alone,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>for servants are scarce and very expensive. Now, poor soul, her
+strength is at an end; she has developed an illness that involves the
+greatest care and rest. You see, darling, that this is no case for
+hesitation. The call comes to you, and you must answer and do your duty
+faithfully."</p>
+
+<p>The girl buried her face in the sofa cushions, her hat lay on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"I hate children&mdash;especially boys," she said sullenly when she spoke.
+"Surely in eight years a doctor ought to be able to make enough to pay a
+housekeeper, if his wife can't look after his house."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't understand how hard life is sometimes, or I think you would
+be readier to take up part of a burden that is dragging down a good and
+brave man."</p>
+
+<p>"To live in an uncivilised country, where probably the people won't
+speak my own language&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't betray such absurd ignorance, Eva," replied Mrs. Trevor; "you
+must know that New Zealand is a British colony, inhabited mainly by our
+own people, who are as well educated and as well mannered as ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>"And just when I was getting on so well with my singing! Mr. James said
+my voice would soon fill a concert hall, and all my hopes of writing and
+becoming a known author&mdash;everything dashed to the ground&mdash;every longing
+nipped in the bud! Oh! it is cruel, cruel!"</p>
+
+<p>"I knew, dear child, that the blow would be severe; don't imagine that
+it will be easy for me to give you up. But knowing what lies before us,
+the thing to do is to prize every hour we are together, and then with
+courage go forward to meet the unknown future. The boys are growing
+up&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hobbledehoys, you may be sure."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Trevor smiled, but said nothing. "And in addition to them, there is
+the baby sister you have never seen."</p>
+
+<p>"And never wish to," added Eva ungraciously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We shall have much to think of, and when once you have become used to
+the idea, I should strongly advise you to settle to some practical work
+that will help when you are forced to depend on yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Eva did not reply. Mentally she was protesting or blankly refusing to
+give up her life of ease, of pleasures, and congenial study in exchange
+for the one offered her in the colony.</p>
+
+<p>"Friends of your father are now home and expect to return in September;
+so, having arranged for you to accompany them, we must regard their
+arrangements as time limit. It is always best to know the worst, though,
+believe me, anticipation is often worse than realisation."</p>
+
+<p>The sword had fallen, cutting off, as Evelyne Riley was fully convinced,
+every possibility of happiness on earth so far as she was concerned.
+Time seemed to fly on fairy wings; Mrs. Trevor made all necessary
+preparations, and before Evelyne realised that her farewell to England
+must be made, she stood on the deck of the outgoing steamer "Waimato" at
+the side of a stranger, waving her hand forlornly to the woman whose
+heart was sore at parting with one she had learned to look upon as her
+own child.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">In New Zealand</div>
+
+<p>Six weeks later, Eva landed at Wellington. The voyage had not interested
+her much, and she was glad to end it. She had read somewhere that it was
+usual to wear old clothes on board, but for landing to choose smart and
+becoming ones, and Eva had bestowed quite some thought on the subject.
+Her dark serge lay at the bottom of her trunk, and for the important
+occasion she decided on her most cherished frock and the new hat, which
+in Richmond she had worn on high-days and holidays. Certainly she looked
+very attractive. Almost sixteen, tall and very fair, Eva was a beautiful
+girl, and as the eyes of Dr. Riley fell on her, he wondered in amazement
+at the change that had taken place in the pale, slight child he had left
+with his sister. Could this really be Evelyne? If so, how was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>she going
+to suit in the simple surroundings to which she was going? He gazed in
+dismay at the expensive clothes and fashionable style of one who soon
+would need to patch and darn, to bake and cook, run the house on
+practical lines, and care for children.</p>
+
+<p>Somewhat nervous and much excited, Eva allowed herself to be kissed and
+caressed, asking after her mother in a constrained fashion, for, try as
+she would, she bore a grudge against one who was the cause of her
+changed life.</p>
+
+<p>A shadow overcast the doctor's face as he replied, "Your dear mother
+will not welcome you at our home as we had hoped. She lies very ill in a
+hospital at present, awaiting a severe operation, the success of which
+may save her life&mdash;God grant it may&mdash;but the boys and Babs are wild with
+excitement and longing to see you. We ought to reach 'Aroha' before they
+are in bed. It is only nine o'clock, and we can go part of the way by
+train; then we shall have a long buggy drive through the bush."</p>
+
+<p>That day Eva never forgot. Travelling with one who was practically a
+stranger to her and yet her nearest relative, the girl felt embarrassed.
+She wanted to hear about her future surroundings and ask questions about
+the children, but she found it hard to disguise her disappointment in
+having to leave her old home and to pretend enthusiasm about her
+brothers and sister; she feared that her father would read her thoughts
+and be hurt and offended, so relapsed into silence. Once they left the
+railway they said goodbye to civilisation, Eva felt positive.</p>
+
+<p>The country was at its loveliest; the early summer brought a beauty of
+its own. Rains had washed every leaf and refreshed each growing thing.
+Great trees, veritable giants, reared their heads proudly towards the
+sky, bushes were in full leaf, the ground on either side of the road was
+carpeted with thick moss that had grown for long years without being
+disturbed. From out of a cloudless sky the sun shone brilliantly, and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>the travellers gladly exchanged the high-road for the shelter of the
+bush. The day was undoubtedly hot, and Eva in her holiday raiment felt
+oppressed and weary before the carriage came in sight of the first
+houses that comprised the growing little township in which her father
+held an important position as medical man.</p>
+
+<p>The style of house brought a curve of contempt to the girl's lips, but
+she offered no opinions. Suddenly, without a remark, her father checked
+the horses, as a small group came to a halt in the middle of the road
+and began waving their hats and shouting wildly.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a welcome for you, Eva!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who are they? I mean&mdash;how did those boys know I was coming?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are your brothers, dear; jolly little chaps every one of them,
+even though they are a bunch of rough robins."</p>
+
+<p>Eva shivered; her brothers&mdash;those raggety tags!</p>
+
+<p>They presented a picturesque though unkempt appearance. Jack was eating
+a slice of bread and jam; Dick had Babs&mdash;somewhat in a soiled condition
+from watering the garden&mdash;on his back; Charlie, the incorrigible, with a
+tear in his knickers and a brimless hat on the back of his curly head,
+was leaping about like an excited kangaroo.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"An Impossible Crowd!"</div>
+
+<p>The doctor held out his arms to the three-year-old little girl, who
+looked shyly at the pretty lady and then promptly hid her face. Eva's
+heart sank; she knew she ought to say or do something, but no words of
+tenderness came to her lips. The child might be attractive if clean, but
+it looked neglected, while the boys were what she described as
+"hobbledehoys." "An impossible crowd," she decided with a shudder, and
+yet her life was to be spent in their midst.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave your sister in peace, you young rascals!" said the doctor; "she
+is tired. Dick, put on the kettle; Eva will be glad of some tea, I know.
+Welcome home, dear daughter. Mother and I have longed for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>you so often,
+and my hopes run high now that you have come. I trust you will be a
+second mother to the boys and Babs."</p>
+
+<p>"I will try," Eva replied in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>Her father noticed her depression, so wisely said little more, but going
+out to see a patient, left her to settle into her new surroundings in
+her own fashion.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning Eva wakened early and looked out of her window, which was
+shaded by a climbing rose that trailed right across it. The house was
+boarded and shingled, one little piece of wood neatly overlapping the
+other; it was only two stories high, with deep eaves and a wide verandah
+all around it.</p>
+
+<p>Breakfast once over, Eva made a tour of the rooms, ending up in the
+kitchen, accompanied, of course, by all the boys and Babs at her heels.
+Uncertain what to do first, she was much astonished at a voice
+proceeding from the washhouse saying in familiar fashion, "Where on
+earth are you all?" There had been no knock at the door, no bell
+rung&mdash;what could it mean?</p>
+
+<p>Standing unconcernedly in the middle of the room unrolling an apron
+stood a little woman of about forty years.</p>
+
+<p>"Good day to you, Eva; hope you slept well after your journey. Come out
+of the pantry, Jack, or I'll be after you."</p>
+
+<p>"May I ask whom I am talking to?" asked Eva icily, much resenting being
+addressed as "Eva."</p>
+
+<p>"I am Mrs. Meadows, and thought I'd just run in and show you where
+things are. You'll feel kind of strange."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it will take some time to get used to things, but I think I
+should prefer doing it in my own way, thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps that would be best," replied Mrs. Meadows. "To-day is baking
+day; can you manage, do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I can order from the baker?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman smiled. "'Help yourself' is the motto <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>of a young country, my
+dear; every one is her own cook and baker, too. Let me help you to-day,
+and by next week things will seem easier, and you will be settled and
+rested. Your mother is my friend; for her sake I'd like to stand by you.
+Will you tidy the rooms while I see to the kitchen?"</p>
+
+<p>Fairly beaten, Eva walked upstairs, hating the work, the house, and
+everything in general, and Mrs. Meadows, whom she considered forward, in
+particular.</p>
+
+<p>The next three days were trials in many ways to the doctor's household,
+himself included. The meals were irregular, the food badly cooked, but
+the man patiently made allowances, and was silent. It was a break in the
+monotony of "sweep and cook and wash up" when Sunday arrived and the
+family went to church. The tiny building was nearly filled, and many
+eyes were turned on the newcomer. But she noticed no one. The old
+familiar hymns brought tears to her eyes, and her thoughts stole away
+from her keeping to the dear land beyond the seas. However, she rallied
+and joined heartily in the last hymn, her voice ringing out above all
+others.</p>
+
+<p>When next she saw Mrs. Meadows the conversation turned to church and
+congregation. After telling her details she thought were interesting,
+Mrs. Meadows said, "You have a nice voice, Eva, but you mustn't strain
+it."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Eva's Top Notes</div>
+
+<p>"Do you think I do?" she replied. "I was trained at the Guildhall
+School, and I suppose my master knew the limits of my voice. <i>He</i>
+approved of my top notes. Perhaps you don't know what the Guildhall
+School is, though," she added insolently.</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, my father was one of the professors until he died.
+Don't think that in New Zealand we are quite ignorant of the world,
+Eva."</p>
+
+<p>The conversation upset the girl sadly. She was vain of her voice and
+anxious to make the most of it. She went into the kitchen to make a pie,
+heedless that Jack had found a jar of raisins and was doing his best to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>empty it as fast as he could, and that Charlie was too quiet to be out
+of mischief. The paste was made according to her ability, certainly
+neither light nor digestible, and was ready for the oven, when suddenly
+a giggle behind her made her turn to behold that wretched boy Charlie
+dressed in her blue velvet dress, best hat, and parasol.</p>
+
+<p>"You wicked boy, how dare you?" she cried, stamping her foot, but the
+boy fled, leaving the skirt on the floor. Picking it up, she gave chase
+to recover the hat, and when at last she returned to her pie, she found
+that Jack had forestalled her and made cakes for himself out of it and a
+marble tart for her.</p>
+
+<p>Eva did not trust herself with the boys that morning; she literally
+hated them. Still, she must master herself before she could master them,
+and show once and for all that she was able to deal with the situation.
+Shutting herself into the parlour, she sat quiet, trying to think and
+plan, but in vain&mdash;she could not calm herself.</p>
+
+<p>She took up a book and attempted to read and forget her annoyances in
+losing herself in the story, but that, too, failed. Her trials were
+countless. Not sufficient were to be found in the house, but that
+interfering Mrs. Meadows must criticise her singing.</p>
+
+<p>She opened the piano, determined to listen to herself and judge what
+truth there was in the remark. She ran over a few scales, but was
+interrupted by a rough-looking man shouting, "Stop that noise, and come
+here! It'd be better if you looked after the bits of bairns than sit
+squealing there like a pig getting killed. Don't stare so daft; where's
+yer father?"</p>
+
+<p>Eva rose in anger, but going up to the man, words died on her lips&mdash;her
+heart seemed to stand still, for in his arms he held Babs, white and
+limp.</p>
+
+<p>"What has happened&mdash;is she dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know; get her to bed." But Eva's hands trembled too much to move
+them, so the old Scotch shepherd pushed her aside, muttering, "Yer
+feckless <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>as yer bonny; get out of the way." Tenderly his rough hands
+cared for the little one, undressing and laying her in her bed.</p>
+
+<p>"She's always after the chickens and things on our place, and I think
+she's had a kick or a fall, for I found her lying in a paddock."</p>
+
+<p>"Where were you, Eva? Hadn't you missed Babs? I thought at any rate she
+would be safe with you," said her father.</p>
+
+<p>Eva's remorse was real. Her mother dying, perhaps, the children
+entrusted to her, and she&mdash;wrapped up in herself and her own
+grievances&mdash;what use was she in the world? But oh! if Babs were only
+spared how different she would be! If she died, Eva told herself, she
+would never be happy again.</p>
+
+<p>She went downstairs wretched and helpless, and once more found Jessie
+Meadows in possession of the kitchen. "How is Babs?"</p>
+
+<p>"Conscious, I think&mdash;but I don't know," and the girl buried her face and
+wept passionately.</p>
+
+<p>"There, there, Eva, we've all got to learn lessons, and some are mighty
+hard. Take life as you find it, and don't make trouble. The change was a
+big one, I know, but you'll find warm hearts and willing hands wherever
+men and women are. I just brought over a pie and a few cakes I found in
+my pantry&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't accept them after being so rude."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Short Memory</div>
+
+<p>"Were you rude, dear? A short memory is an advantage sometimes. But
+we'll kiss and be friends, as the children say, and I will take turns
+with you in nursing Babs."</p>
+
+<p>What Eva would have done without the capable woman would be hard to say,
+for the child lay on the borders of the spirit land for weeks. When the
+crisis was past her first words were, "Evie, Evie!" and never before had
+Eva listened with such joy and thankfulness to her name. The child could
+not bear her out of sight; "pretty sister" was doctor, nurse, and mother
+in one. Unwearied in care, and patient with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>the whims of the little
+one, she was a treasure to her father, whose harassed face began to wear
+a happier expression.</p>
+
+<p>"I have great news to tell," he began one evening when, with Babs in his
+arms and the boys hanging around in their usual fashion, they were
+sitting together after tea.</p>
+
+<div><a name="mrs" id="mrs"></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 240px;">
+<img src="images/8.jpg" width="240" height="400" alt="MRS. MEADOWS&#39; BROTHER ARRIVED." title="MRS. MEADOWS&#39; BROTHER ARRIVED." />
+<span class="caption">MRS. MEADOWS&#39; BROTHER ARRIVED.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Tell, tell!" shouted the audience; but the doctor shook his head, while
+his eyes rested on Eva.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it about mother?" she whispered, and he nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother is well, and coming home."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother's coming back!" was echoed throughout the house to the
+accompaniment of a war dance of three excited kangaroos until sleep
+closed all eyes.</p>
+
+
+<p>The day of the arrival was memorable in many ways to the young girl. In
+the morning came an invitation to sing at a concert, an hour later Mrs.
+Meadows' brother arrived, laden with good things for the returning
+invalid, and with a letter from an editor in Wellington, which brought a
+flush of delighted surprise to Eva's face.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Meadows herself came over later.</p>
+
+<p>"The editor is a friend of mine, Eva," she said; "and in rescuing a
+story of yours from Jack, I found him a contributor. Not for what you
+have done, but for what I'm certain you can do if you will write of life
+and not sentimental rubbish. You are not offended, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>Eva's eyes glistened. "Offended with <i>you</i>&mdash;<i>you</i> who have laden me with
+kindness, and helped me to find all that is worth having in life! I have
+learned now to see myself with other eyes than my own."</p>
+
+<p>Eva's doubts were set to rest once and for ever when she saw the frail
+mother she had really forgotten, and felt her arms around her as she
+said, "My daughter&mdash;thank Heaven for such a treasure!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Rosette in Peril</h2>
+
+<h3>A Story of the War of La Vend&eacute;e</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">M. Lefuse</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Rosette was a girl of singular resolution. Through what
+perils she passed unscathed this story will tell.</div>
+
+<p>A loud knocking sounded at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Jean Paulet," cried a voice, "how much longer am I to stand and knock?
+Unbar the door!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it is Monsieur de Marigny!" exclaimed the farmer, and hurried to
+let his visitor in.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Jean Paulet! You are no braver than when I saw you last!" laughed
+the tall man who entered, wrapped in a great cloak that fell in many
+folds. "I see you have not joined those who fight for freedom, but have
+kept peacefully to your farm. 'Tis a comfortable thing to play the
+coward in these days! And I would that you would give a little of the
+comfort to this small comrade of mine." From beneath the shelter of his
+cloak a childish face peered out at the farmer and his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Monsieur! that is certainly your little Rosette!" exclaimed Madame
+Paulet. "Yes, yes, I have heard of her&mdash;how you adopted the poor little
+one when her father was dead of a bullet and her mother of grief and
+exposure; and how, since, you have loved and cared for her and kept her
+ever at your side!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, that is finished. We are on the eve of a great battle&mdash;God grant
+us victory!" he said reverently&mdash;"and I have brought the little one to
+you to pray you guard and shelter her till I return again. What, Jean
+Paulet! You hesitate? Before this war I was a good landlord to you. Will
+you refuse this favour to me now?" asked de Marigny, looking sternly
+down on the farmer from his great height.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I do not say that I refuse&mdash;but I am a poor defenceless man; 'tis a
+dangerous business to shelter rebels&mdash;ah, pardon! loyalists&mdash;in these
+times!" stammered Jean Paulet.</p>
+
+<p>"No more dangerous than serving both sides! Some among this republic's
+officers would give much to know who betrayed them, once, not long ago.
+You remember, farmer? What if <i>I</i> told tales?" asked de Marigny grimly.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh! but you will not!" exclaimed the terrified man. "No, no! I am safe
+in your hands; you are a man of honour, Monsieur&mdash;and the child shall
+stay! Yes, yes; for your sake!"</p>
+
+<p>De Marigny caught up Rosette and kissed her. "Sweetheart, you must stay
+here in safety. What? You are 'not afraid to go'? No, but I am afraid to
+take you, little one. Ah, vex me not by crying; I will soon come to you
+again!" He took a step towards the farmer. "Jean Paulet, I leave my
+treasure in your hands. If aught evil happen to her, I think I should go
+mad with grief," he said slowly. "And a madman is dangerous, my friend;
+he is apt to be unreasonable, to disbelieve excuses, and to shoot those
+whom he fancies have betrayed him! So pray you that I find Rosette in
+safety when I come again. Farewell!"</p>
+
+<p>But before he disappeared into the night, he turned smiling to the
+child. "Farewell, little one. In the brighter days I will come for thee
+again. Forget me not!"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Round Jean Paulet's door one bright afternoon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>clustered a troop of the
+republican soldiers, eyeing indolently the perspiring farmer as he ran
+to and fro with water for their horses, and sweetening his labours with
+scraps of the latest news.</p>
+
+<p>"H&eacute;, Paulet," suddenly asked the corporal, "hast heard anything of the
+rebel General Marigny?"</p>
+
+<p>"No!" replied the farmer hurriedly. "What should I hear? Is he still
+alive?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, curse him! So, too, is that wretched girl, daughter of a vile
+aristocrat, that he saved from starvation. Bah! as if starving was not
+too good a death for her! But there is a price set on Marigny, and a
+reward would be given for the child too. So some one will soon betray
+them, and then&mdash;why, we will see if they had not rather have starved!"
+he said ferociously.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I have heard this Marigny is a brave man," observed the farmer
+timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"That is why we want the child! There is nothing would humble him save
+perchance to find he could not save the child he loves from torture. Ha!
+ha! we shall have a merry time then!"</p>
+
+<p>"Doubtless this Marigny is no friend to the republic," said the farmer
+hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>The corporal laughed noisily as he gathered up his horse's reins. "Head
+and front of this insurrection&mdash;an accursed rebel! But he shall pay for
+it, he shall pay; and so will all those fools who have helped him!"</p>
+
+<p>And the little band of soldiers rode away, shouting and jesting, leaving
+Jean Paulet with a heart full of fear.</p>
+
+<p>With trembling fingers he pushed open the house door, and, stepping into
+the kitchen, found Rosette crouched beneath the open window. "Heard you
+what they said&mdash;that they are seeking for you?" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Rosette nodded. "They have done that this long time," she observed
+coolly.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"They must find You!"</div>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but&mdash;some time they must find you!" he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>Rosette laughed. "Perhaps&mdash;if I become as stupid a coward as Jean
+Paulet."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The farmer frowned. "I am no coward&mdash;I am an experienced man. And I tell
+you&mdash;I, with the weight of forty years behind me&mdash;that they will find
+you some time."</p>
+
+<p>"And I tell you&mdash;I," mimicked Rosette saucily, "with the weight of my
+twelve years behind me&mdash;that I have lived through so many perils, I
+should be able to live through another!"</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis just that!" said the farmer angrily. "You have no prudence; you
+take too many risks; you expose yourself to fearful dangers." He
+shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>"What you fear is that I shall expose you," returned Rosette cheerfully.
+"H&eacute;, well! a man can but die once, Farmer Paulet."</p>
+
+<p>"That is just it!" exclaimed the farmer vivaciously. "If I had six lives
+I should not mind dying five times; but having only the one, I cannot
+afford to lose it! And, besides, I have my wife to think of."</p>
+
+<p>Rosette meditated a moment. "Better late than never, Farmer Paulet. I
+have heard tell you never thought of that before." The sharp little face
+softened. "She is a good woman, your wife!"</p>
+
+<p>"True, true! She is a good woman, and you would not care for her to be
+widowed. Consider if it would not be better if I placed you in safety
+elsewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Jean Paulet! Jean Paulet!" mocked Rosette; "I doubt if I should do your
+wife a kindness if I saved your skin."</p>
+
+<p>Jean Paulet wagged a forefinger at her angrily. "You will come to a bad
+end with a tongue like that! If it were not for the respect I owe to
+Monsieur de Marigny&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Marigny's pistol!" interrupted Rosette.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, bah! What is to prevent my abandoning you?" asked the farmer
+furiously.</p>
+
+<p>Rosette swung her bare legs thoughtfully. "Papa Marigny is a man of his
+word&mdash;and you lack five of your half-dozen lives, Jean Paulet."</p>
+
+<p>"See you it is dangerous!" returned her protector <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>desperately. "My wife
+she is not here to advise me; she is in the fields&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I have noticed she works hard," murmured Rosette.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">To the Uplands!</div>
+
+<p>"And I will not keep you here. But for the respect I owe Monsieur de
+Marigny, I am willing to sacrifice something. I have a dozen of sheep in
+the field down there&mdash;ah! la, la! they represent a lifetime's savings,
+but I will sacrifice them for my safety&mdash;no, no; for Monsieur de
+Marigny, I mean!" he wailed. "You shall drive them to the uplands and
+stay there out of danger. I do not think you will meet with soldiers;
+but if you do, at the worst they will only take a sheep&mdash;ah! my sheep!"
+he broke off distressfully. "Now do not argue. Get you gone before my
+wife returns. See, I will put a little food in this handkerchief. There,
+you may tell Monsieur de Marigny I have been loyal to him. Go, go! and,
+above all, remember never to come near me again, or say those sheep are
+mine. You will be safe, quite safe."</p>
+
+<p>Rosette laughed. "You have a kind heart, Jean Paulet," she mocked. "But
+I think perhaps you are right. You are too much of a poltroon to be a
+safe comrade in adversity."</p>
+
+<p>She sprang from her chair and ran to the doorway. Then she looked back.
+"Hark you, Jean Paulet! This price upon my head&mdash;it is a fine price, h&eacute;?
+Well, I am little, but I have a tongue, and <i>I know what my papa de
+Marigny knows</i>. Ah! the fine tale to tell, if they catch us! Eh?
+Farewell."</p>
+
+<p>She ran lightly across the yard, pausing a moment when a yellow mongrel
+dog leaped up and licked her chin. "H&eacute;, Gegi, you love me better than
+your master does!" she said, stooping to pat his rough coat. "And you do
+not love your master any better than I do, eh? Why, then you had better
+keep sheep too! There is a brave idea. Come, Gegi, come!" And together
+they ran off through the sunshine.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>It was very cold that autumn up on the higher lands, very cold and very
+lonely.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Also several days had passed since Rosette had ventured down to the
+nearest friendly farm to seek for food, and her little store of
+provisions was nearly finished.</p>
+
+<p>"You and I must eat, Gegi. Stay with the sheep, little one, while I go
+and see if I can reach some house in safety." And, the yellow mongrel
+offering no objection, Rosette started.</p>
+
+<p>She was not the only person in La Vend&eacute;e who lacked food. Thousands of
+loyal peasants starved, and the republican soldiers themselves were not
+too plentifully supplied. Certainly they grumbled bitterly sometimes, as
+did that detachment of them who sheltered themselves from the keen wind
+under the thick hedge that divided the rough road leading to La
+Plasti&egrave;re from the fields.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah! we live like pigs in these days!" growled one of the men.</p>
+
+<p>"It is nothing," said another. "Think what we shall get at La Plasti&egrave;re!
+The village has a few fat farmers, who have escaped pillaging so far by
+the love they bore, as they said, to the good republic. But that is
+ended: once we have caught this rascal Marigny in their midst, we can
+swear they are not good republicans."</p>
+
+<p>"But," objected the first speaker, "they may say they knew nothing of
+this Marigny hiding in the ch&acirc;teau!"</p>
+
+<p>"They may say so&mdash;but we need not believe them!" returned his companion.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, bah! I would believe or not believe anything, so long as it brought
+us a good meal! How long before we reach this village, comrade?"</p>
+
+<p>"Till nightfall. We would not have Marigny watch our coming. This time
+we will make sure of the scoundrel."</p>
+
+<p>Rosette, standing hidden behind the hedge, clenched her hands tightly at
+the word. She would have given much to have flung it back at the man,
+but prudence <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>suggested it would be better to be discreet and help
+Marigny. She turned and ran along under the hedge, and away back to
+where she had left her little flock, her bare feet falling noiselessly
+on the damp ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Gegi!" she panted, flinging herself beside the yellow mongrel, "the
+soldiers are very near, and they are going to surprise my beloved papa
+de Marigny. What must we do, Gegi, you and I, to save him?"</p>
+
+<p>Gegi rolled sharply on to his back and lay staring up at the skies as if
+he was considering the question. Rosette rested her chin on her drawn-up
+knees and thought fiercely. She knew in what direction lay the ch&acirc;teau
+of La Plasti&egrave;re, and she knew that to reach it she must cross the
+countryside, and cross, too, in full view of the soldiers below; or
+else&mdash;and that was the shorter way&mdash;go along the road by which they
+encamped.</p>
+
+<p>Rosette frowned. If they spied her skulking in the distance, they would
+probably conclude she carried a message that might be valuable to them
+and pursue her. If she walked right through them? Bah! Would they know
+it was Rosette&mdash;Rosette, for whose capture a fine reward would be given?</p>
+
+<p>She did not look much like an aristocrat's child, she thought, glancing
+at her bare brown legs and feet, and her stained, torn blue frock. Her
+dark, matted curls were covered with a crimson woollen cap&mdash;her every
+garment would have been suitable for a peasant child's wear; and Rosette
+was conscious that her size was more like that of a child of seven than
+that of one of twelve. She had passed unknown through many
+soldiers&mdash;would these have a more certain knowledge of her?</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"How am I to Settle it?"</div>
+
+<p>"Oh, Gegi!" she sighed; "how am I to settle it?"</p>
+
+<p>Gegi wagged his tail rapidly and encouragingly, but offered no further
+help.</p>
+
+<p>If she went across country the way was longer far, and there was a big
+risk. If she went near those soldiers and was known, why, risk would
+become a certainty. That Death would stare into her face then, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>none
+knew better than Rosette; but Death was also very near Rosette's beloved
+de Marigny, the man who had cared for her and loved her with all the
+warmth of his big, generous heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! if my papa de Marigny dies, I may as well die too, Gegi," she
+whispered wearily. The yellow mongrel cocked one ear with a rather
+doubtful expression. "Well, we must take the risk. If papa de Marigny is
+to live, you and I, Gegi, must take him warning!" Rosette cried,
+springing to her feet; and Gegi signified his entire approval in a
+couple of short barks. "I will take the sheep," his little mistress
+murmured; "'tis slower, but they will be so pleased to see them. Poor
+Jean Paulet!" she thought, with a faint smile.</p>
+
+<p>Gegi bounded lightly through a gap in the hedge, and dashed up to the
+soldiers inquisitively. With an oath, one of the men hurled a stone at
+him, which Gegi easily dodged, and another man stretched out his hand
+for his musket.</p>
+
+<p>"There are worse flavours than dog's meat," he observed coolly. "Come,
+little beast, you shall finish your life gloriously, nourishing soldiers
+of the republic!" He placed his gun in position.</p>
+
+<p>"H&eacute;! you leave my dog alone!" called Rosette sharply, as she stepped
+into the roadway. "He has the right to live," she added, as she moved
+jauntily up to them. Her pert little face showed nothing of the anguish
+in her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Not if I want him for my supper," observed the soldier, grinning at his
+comrades, who changed their position to obtain a better view of the
+coming sport.</p>
+
+<p>"But you do not," corrected Rosette. "If you need to eat dog, search for
+the dog of an accursed fugitive!"</p>
+
+<p>The men laughed. "How do we know this is not one?" they asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I will show you. H&eacute;, Gegi!" she called, and the dog came and sat in
+front of her. "Listen, Gegi. Would you bark for a monarchy?" The yellow
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>mongrel glanced round him indifferently. "Gegi!" his mistress called
+imperiously, "do you cheer for the glorious republic?" And for answer,
+Gegi flung up his head and barked.</p>
+
+<p>"You see?" asked Rosette, turning to the grinning man. "He is your
+brother, that little dog. And you may not eat your brother, you know,"
+she added gravely.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Whose Sheep are those?"</div>
+
+<p>"H&eacute;, by the Mass! whose sheep are those?" cried a soldier suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"They are mine, or rather they are my master's; I am taking them back to
+the farm."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, then, we will spare you the trouble. I hope they, too, are not
+good republicans," he jested.</p>
+
+<p>"I have called them after your great leaders&mdash;but they do not always
+answer to their names," Rosette assured him seriously.</p>
+
+<p>"Then they are only worthy to be executed. Your knife, comrade," cried
+one of the men, jumping to his feet. "What, more of them! Six, seven,
+eight," he counted, as the sheep came through the gap. "Why, 'twill be
+quite a massacre of traitors."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please! you cannot eat them all! Leave me some, that I may drive
+back with me, else my master will beat me!" implored Rosette, beginning
+to fear that her chances of passing towards the far distant village were
+lessening.</p>
+
+<p>"Your master! Who is your master?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is a farmer down there," nodding vaguely as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark you! Have you by any chance seen a man bigger than the average
+skulking thereabouts?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. "There are few big men round here&mdash;none so fine as
+you!" she said prettily.</p>
+
+<p>The man gave a proud laugh. "Ah! we of Paris are a fine race."</p>
+
+<p>Rosette nodded. "My Master is a good republican. You will let me take
+him back the sheep," she coaxed.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, those that remain," the soldier replied, with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>a grin. "Sho! sho!
+Those that run you can follow. Ah, behold!" Rosette needed no second
+bidding, but started after the remnant of her little troop.</p>
+
+<p>"H&eacute;!" called one of the soldiers to his comrades&mdash;and the wind bore the
+words to Rosette&mdash;"you are fools to let that child pass! For aught we
+know, she may be spying for the rebels."</p>
+
+<p>As the men stared after her irresolute, Rosette slackened her pace,
+flung up her head, and in her clear childish treble began to sing that
+ferocious chant, then at the height of its popularity, which is now the
+national hymn of France. So singing, she walked steadily down the long
+road, hopeful that she might yet save the man who was a father to her.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>It was almost dusk outside the desolate, half-ruined ch&acirc;teau of La
+Plasti&egrave;re. Within its walls the shadows of night were already thickly
+gathered&mdash;shadows so dark that a man might have lurked unseen in them.
+Some such thought came to Rosette as she stood hesitating in the great
+hall. How silent the place was! The only noises came from without&mdash;the
+wind sobbing strangely in the garden, the ghostly rustling of the
+leaves, the moan of the dark, swift river. Ah! there was something
+moving in the great hall! What was it? A rat dashed by, close to
+Rosette's feet; then the hall settled again into unbroken silence.</p>
+
+<p>The child's heart beat quickly. She hated, feared, the shadows and the
+quiet.</p>
+
+<p>Yet she must go forward; she dare not call aloud, and she must find de
+Marigny, if, indeed, he was still there.</p>
+
+<p>She groped her way to the broad stone stairs. How dark it was! She
+glanced up fearfully. Surely something up above her in the shadow on the
+stairway moved. She shrank back.</p>
+
+<p>"Coward! little coward!" she muttered. And to scare away her fear she
+began to sing softly, very softly, a tender little song de Marigny
+himself had taught to her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Stay thy hand, man! It is Rosette!" cried a voice from above her,
+shattering the silence. And the shadow that had moved before moved
+again, and a man from crouching on the step rose suddenly in front of
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you not speak? I thought we were like to be discovered, and I
+had nearly killed you. Curse this dark!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" whispered Rosette. "Hush! you are betrayed! The soldiers are
+coming. Oh, Papa de Marigny," she murmured, as he came down the
+stairway, "they are to be here at dusk. Is it too late? I tried to get
+here sooner, but&mdash;it was such a long road!" she ended, with a sob.</p>
+
+<p>De Marigny gathered her in his arms. "And such a little traveller! Never
+mind, sweetheart, we will cheat them yet," he said tenderly. "Warn the
+others, Lacroix!"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Flight</div>
+
+<p>But Lacroix had done that already. The house was full now of stealthy
+sounds and moving shadows descending the great staircase. De Marigny,
+carrying Rosette, led the way across the garden behind the house,
+towards the river that cut the countryside in half. The stillness of the
+night was broken suddenly by the neighing of a not far distant horse.</p>
+
+<p>"The soldiers! the rebels, papa!" cried Rosette.</p>
+
+<p>De Marigny whispered softly to one of his companions, who ran swiftly
+away from him, and busied himself drawing from its hiding-place a small
+boat. They could hear the tramp of horses now, near, very near, and yet
+the men seated silent in the boat held tightly to the bank.</p>
+
+<p>Hark! The thud, thud of running footsteps came to Rosette, nearer,
+nearer, and the man for whom they waited sprang from the bank into their
+midst.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later they were caught by the swift current and carried out
+into the centre of the broad river.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, if my plan does not miscarry, we are safe!" cried de Marigny
+exultantly.</p>
+
+<p>"But, papa, dear one, they will follow us across <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>the river and stop our
+landing!" cried Rosette anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>De Marigny chuckled. "Providentially the river flows too fast, little
+one, for man or horse to ford it. The bridge yonder in the field is the
+only way to cross the river for many miles. And I do not think they will
+try the bridge, for I was not so foolish as not to prepare for a
+surprise visit many days ago. Look, little one!" he added suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>Rosette held her breath as away up the river a great flame streamed up
+through the darkness, followed by a loud explosion, and she saw
+fragments of wood hurled like playthings high into the air. Some, as
+they fell again to earth, turned into blazing torches. For far around
+trees and hedges showed distinctly; the gleaming river, the garden, and
+the ch&acirc;teau stood out clear in the flaming light.</p>
+
+<p>Round the ch&acirc;teau tore two or three frightened, plunging horses, and the
+desperate gestures of their riders could easily be seen by Rosette for a
+moment before their craft was hidden by a turn in the river bank.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Monsieur de Marigny rejoined the loyalists across the river, and,
+animated by his presence, the struggle against the republic was resumed
+with great firmness.</p>
+
+<p>Whenever de Marigny rode among his peasant soldiers, he, their idol, was
+greeted with many a lively cheer, which yet grew louder and more joyful
+when he carried before him on his horse Rosette, the brave child who had
+saved their leader's life at the risk of her own.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Golf for Girls</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">An Old Stager</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">A few plain hints to the teachable.</div>
+
+<p>I veil my identity because I am not a girl&mdash;old or young. Being, indeed,
+a mere man, it becomes me to offer advice with modesty.</p>
+
+<p>And, of course, in the matter of golf, women&mdash;many of them no more than
+girls&mdash;play so well that men cannot affect any assurance of superiority.
+On my own course I sometimes come upon a middle-aged married couple
+playing with great contentment a friendly game. The wife always drives
+the longer ball, and upon most occasions manages to give her husband a
+few strokes and a beating.</p>
+
+<p>However, I did not start out to write a disquisition on women as
+golfers, but only to offer some hints on golf for girls.</p>
+
+<p>And first, as to making a start.</p>
+
+<p>The best way is the way that is not possible to everybody. No girl plays
+golf so naturally or so well as the girl who learned it young; who,
+armed with a light cleek or an iron, wandered around the links in
+company with her small brothers almost as soon as she was big enough to
+swing a club. Such a girl <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>probably had the advantage of seeing the game
+played well by her elders, and she would readily learn to imitate their
+methods. Of course, very young learners may and do pick up bad habits;
+but a little good advice will soon correct these if the learner is at
+all keen on the game.</p>
+
+<p>A girl who grows up under these conditions&mdash;and many do in
+Scotland&mdash;does not need any hints from me. She starts under ideal
+conditions, and ought to make the most of them. Others begin at a later
+age, with fewer advantages, and perhaps without much help to be got at
+home.</p>
+
+<p>How, then, to begin. Be sure of one thing: you cannot learn to play golf
+out of your own head, or even by an intelligent study of books on the
+subject. For, if you try, you will do wrong and yet be unable to say
+<i>what</i> you are doing wrong. In that you will not be peculiar. Many an
+experienced golfer will suddenly pick up a fault. After a few bad
+strokes he knows he is wrong somewhere, but may not be able to spot the
+particular defect. Perhaps a kindly disposed opponent&mdash;who knows his
+disposition, for not everybody will welcome or take advice&mdash;tells him;
+and then in a stroke or two he puts the thing right. So you need a
+teacher.</p>
+
+<p>Generally speaking, a professional is the best teacher, because he has
+had the most experience in instruction. But professionals vary greatly
+in teaching capacity, and cannot be expected in every case to take the
+same interest in a pupil's progress that a friend may. If you are to
+have the help of a relative or friend, try to get competent help. There
+<i>are</i> well-meaning persons whose instruction had better be shunned as
+the plague.</p>
+
+<p>Let your teacher choose your clubs for you, and, in any case, do not
+make the mistake of fitting yourself up at first either with too many
+clubs or with clubs too heavy for you.</p>
+<div><a name="a" id="a"></a></div>
+<div class="figright" style="width: 240px;">
+<img src="images/breeze.jpg" width="240" height="400" alt="A BREEZY MORNING" title="A BREEZY MORNING" />
+<span class="caption">A BREEZY MORNING</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>As to first steps in learning, I am disposed to think that an old-time
+method, by which young people learned <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>first to use <i>one</i> club with
+some skill and confidence before going on to another, was a good one. In
+that case they would begin with a cleek or an iron before using the
+driver.</p>
+
+<p>The learner should give great attention to some first principles. Let
+her note the <i>grip</i> she is told to use. Very likely it will seem to her
+uncomfortable, and not at all the most convenient way of holding a club
+in order to hit a ball; but it is the result of much experience, and has
+not been arbitrarily chosen for her especial discomfort.</p>
+
+<p>In like manner the stance, or way of standing when making a stroke, must
+be noted carefully and copied exactly. In private practice defy the
+inward tempter which suggests that you can do much better in some other
+way. Don't, above all, allow yourself to think that you will hit the
+ball more surely if you stand farther behind it&mdash;not even if you have
+seen your brother tee a ball away to the left of his left foot and still
+get a long shot.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Keep your Eye on the Ball"</div>
+
+<p>Don't think that the perpetual injunction, "Keep your eye on the ball,"
+is an irritating formula with little reason behind it. It is, as a
+matter of fact, a law quite as much for your teacher as for yourself.
+And don't suppose that you <i>have</i> kept your eye on the ball because you
+think you have. It is wonderful how easy it is to keep your eye
+glued&mdash;so to speak&mdash;to the ball until the very half-second when that
+duty is most important and then to lift the head, spoiling the shot. If
+you can persuade yourself to look at the ball all through the stroke,
+and to look at the spot where the ball was even after the ball is away,
+you will find that you not only hit the ball satisfactorily but that it
+flies straighter than you had hitherto found it willing to do. When you
+are getting on, and begin to have some satisfaction with yourself, then
+remember that this maxim still requires as close observance as ever. If
+you find yourself off your game&mdash;such as it is&mdash;ask yourself at once,
+"Am I keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>ing my eye on the ball?" And don't be in a hurry to assume
+that you were.</p>
+
+<p>Always bear in mind, too, that you want to hit the ball with a kind of
+combined motion, which is to include the swing of your body. You are not
+there to use your arms only. If you begin young, you will, I expect,
+find little difficulty in this. It is, to older players, quite amazing
+how readily a youngster will fall into a swing that is the embodiment of
+grace and ease.</p>
+
+<p>Putting is said by some to be not an art but an inspiration. Perhaps
+that is why ladies take so readily to it. On the green a girl is at no
+disadvantage with a boy. But remember that there is no ordinary stroke
+over which care pays so well as the putt; and that there is no stroke in
+which carelessness can be followed by such humiliating disaster. Don't
+think it superfluous to examine the line of a putt; and don't, on any
+account, suppose that, because the ball is near the hole, you are bound
+to run it down.</p>
+
+<p>Forgive me for offering a piece of advice which ought to be superfluous
+and is not. I have sometimes found ladies most culpably careless in the
+matter of divots. It is a fundamental rule that, if in playing you cut
+out a piece of turf, you or your caddy should replace it. Never, under
+any circumstances, neglect this rule or allow your caddy to neglect it.
+Nobody who consistently neglects this rule ought to be allowed on any
+course.</p>
+
+<p>A word as to clothing. I <i>have</i> seen ladies playing in hats that rather
+suggested the comparative repose of a croquet lawn on a hot summer's
+day. But of course you only want good sense as your guide in this
+matter. Ease without eccentricity should be your aim. Remember, too,
+that whilst men like to play golf in old clothes, and often have a kind
+of superstitious regard for some disgracefully old and dirty jacket, a
+girl must not follow their example. Be sure, in any case, that your
+boots or shoes are strong and water-tight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Keep your Heart up!</div>
+
+<p>Finally, keep your heart up! Golf is a game of moods and vagaries. It is
+hard to say why one plays well one day and badly another; well, perhaps,
+when in bad health, and badly when as fit as possible; well, perhaps,
+when you have started expecting nothing, and badly when you have felt
+that you could hit the ball over the moon. Why one may play well for
+three weeks and then go to pieces; why one will go off a particular club
+and suddenly do wonders with a club neglected; why on certain days
+everything goes well&mdash;any likely putt running down, every ball kicking
+the right way, every weak shot near a hazard scrambling out of danger,
+every difficult shot coming off; and why on other days every shot that
+can go astray will go astray&mdash;these are mysteries which no man can
+fathom. But they add to the infinite variety of the game; only requiring
+that you should have inexhaustible patience and hope as part of your
+equipment. And patience is a womanly virtue.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Sunny Miss Martyn</h2>
+
+<h3>A Christmas Story</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Somerville Gibney</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">A mere oversight nearly wrecked two lives. Happily the
+mistake was discovered before remedy had become impossible.</div>
+
+<p>"Goodbye, Miss Martyn, and a merry Christmas to you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Goodbye, Miss Martyn; how glad you must be to get rid of us all! But I
+shall remember you on Christmas Day."</p>
+
+<p>"Goodbye, dear Miss Martyn; I hope you won't feel dull. We shall all
+think of you and wish you were with us, I know. A very happy Christmas
+to you."</p>
+
+<p>"The same to you, my dears, and many of them. Goodbye, goodbye; and,
+mind, no nonsense at the station. I look to you, Lesbia, to keep the
+others in order."</p>
+
+<p>"Trust me, Miss Martyn; we'll be very careful."</p>
+
+<p>"I really think I ought to have gone with you and seen you safely off,
+and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, no&mdash;you may really trust us. We've all of us travelled before,
+and we will behave, honour bright!"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Off for the Holidays</div>
+
+<p>And with a further chorus of farewells and Christmas <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>wishes, the six or
+seven girls, varying in age from twelve to seventeen, who had been
+taking their places in the station 'bus, waved their hands and blew
+kisses through the windows as the door slammed, and it rolled down the
+drive of Seaton Lodge over the crisp, hard-frozen snow. And more and
+more indistinct grew the merry farewells, till the gate was reached, and
+the conveyance turning into the lane, the noisy occupants were hidden
+from sight and hearing to the kindly-faced, smiling lady, who, with a
+thick shawl wrapped about her shoulders, stood watching its departure on
+the hall steps.</p>
+
+<p>For some moments longer she remained silent, immovable, her eyes
+directed towards the distant gate. But her glance went far beyond. It
+had crossed the gulf of many years, and was searching the land of "Never
+More."</p>
+
+<p>At length the look on her face changed, and with a sigh she turned on
+her heel and re-entered the house.</p>
+
+<p>And how strangely silent it had suddenly become! It no longer rang with
+the joyous young voices that had echoed through it that morning,
+revelling in the freedom of the commencement of the Christmas holidays.</p>
+
+<p>Selina Martyn heaved another sigh; she missed her young charges; her
+resident French governess had left the previous day for her home at
+Neuilly; and now, with the exception of the servants, she had the house
+to herself, and she hated it.</p>
+
+<p>A feeling of depression was on her, but she fought against it; there was
+much to be done. Christmas would be on her in a couple of days, and no
+sooner would that be passed than the bills would pour in; and in order
+to satisfy them her own accounts must go out. Then there were all the
+rooms to be put straight, for schoolgirls are by no means the most tidy
+of beings. She had plenty of work before her, and she faced it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But evening came at last, and found her somewhat weary after her late
+dinner, and disinclined to do anything more, except sit in front of the
+blazing fire in her own little room and dream. Outside, the frost
+continued sharper than ever, and faintly there came to her ear the
+sounds of the distant bells practising for the coming festival, and once
+more for the second time that day her thoughts flew backwards over the
+mist of years.</p>
+
+<p>She was a lonely old woman, she told herself; and so she was, as far as
+relatives went, but miserable she was not. She was as bright and sunny
+as many of us, and a great deal more so than some. Her life had had its
+ups and downs, its bright and dark hours; but she had learnt to dwell on
+the former and put the latter in the background, hiding them under the
+mercies she had received; and so she became to be known in Stourton as
+"sunny Miss Martyn," and no name could have been more applicable.</p>
+
+<p>And as the flames roared up the chimney this winter night, she thought
+of the young hearts that had left her that morning and of their
+happiness that first night at home. She had known what that was herself.
+She had been a schoolgirl once&mdash;a schoolgirl in this very house, and had
+left it as they had left it that morning to return to a loving home. Her
+father had been well off in those days; she was his only child, and all
+he had to care for, her mother dying at her birth. They had been all in
+all to each other, and the days of her girlhood were the brightest of
+her life.</p>
+
+<p>He missed his "little sunbeam," as he called her, when she was away at
+Seaton Lodge&mdash;for it was called Seaton Lodge even then; but they made up
+for the separation when the holidays came and they were together once
+more, and more especially at Christmas-time, that season of parties and
+festivities. Mr. Martyn was a hospitable man, and his entertainments
+were many, and his neighbours and friends were not slow <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>in returning
+his kindnesses; so that Christmas-time was a dream of excitement and
+delight as far as Selina was concerned.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Bank Failure</div>
+
+<p>But a break came to those happy times: a joint stock bank, in which Mr.
+Martyn had invested, failed, and he was ruined. The shock was more than
+his somewhat weak heart could stand, and it killed him.</p>
+
+<p>His daughter was just sixteen at the time, and the head pupil at Seaton
+Lodge. She was going to leave at the end of the half-year; but now all
+was changed. Instead of returning home to be mistress of her father's
+house, she would have to work for her living, and the opportunity for
+doing so came more quickly than she had dared to hope.</p>
+
+<p>With Miss Clayton, the mistress, she had been a favourite from the first
+day she had entered the school, and the former now made her the offer of
+remaining on as a pupil teacher. Without hesitation the girl accepted.
+She had no relatives; Seaton Lodge was her second home; she was loved
+there, and she would not be dependent; and from that hour never had she
+to regret her decision.</p>
+
+<p>When her father's affairs were settled up there remained but a few
+pounds a year for her, but these she was able to put by, for Miss
+Clayton was no niggard towards those that served her, and Selina
+received sufficient salary for clothes and pocket-money.</p>
+
+<p>After the first agony of the shock had passed away, her life was a happy
+if a quiet one. Her companions all loved her; she was to them a friend
+rather than a governess, and few were the holidays when she did not
+receive more than one invitation to spend part of them at the homes of
+some of her pupil friends.</p>
+
+<p>She had been a permanent resident at Seaton Lodge some three years when
+the romance of her life took place.</p>
+
+<p>Among the elder pupils at that time was Maude Elliott, whose father's
+house was not many miles distant from her friend's former home. She had
+taken a great <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>fancy to Selina, and on several occasions had carried her
+off to spend a portion of the holidays with her, and it was at her home
+that she had made the acquaintance of Edgar Freeman, Maude's cousin. A
+young mining engineer, he had spent some years in Newfoundland, and had
+returned to complete his studies for his full diploma at the School of
+Mines, spending such time as he could spare at his uncle's house.</p>
+
+<p>Almost before she was aware of it, he had made a prisoner of the lonely
+little pupil-teacher's heart, and when she was convinced of the fact she
+fought against it, deeming herself a traitor to her friend, to whom she
+imagined he was attached, mistaking cousinly affection for something
+warmer.</p>
+
+<p>Then came that breaking-up for the Christmas holidays which she
+remembered so well, when she was to have followed Maude in a few days to
+her home, where she and Edgar would once more be together; and then the
+great disappointment when, two days before she was to have started, Miss
+Clayton was taken ill with pneumonia, and she had to stay and nurse her.</p>
+
+<p>How well she remembered that terrible time! It was the most dreary
+Christmas she had ever experienced&mdash;mild, dull, and sloppy, the rain
+falling by the hour, and fog blurring everything outside the house,
+while added to this was the anxiety she felt for the invalid.</p>
+
+<p>Christmas Day was the worst of the whole time; outside everything was
+wet and dripping, and even indoors the air felt raw and chilly,
+penetrating to the bones, and resulting in a continual state of shivers.
+There was no bright Christmas service for Selina that morning: she must
+remain at home and look after her charge, for, save the invalid, the
+servants and herself, the house was empty.</p>
+
+<p>But there was one glad moment for her&mdash;the arrival of the postman. He
+was late, of course, but when <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>he did come he brought her a budget of
+letters and parcels that convinced her she was not forgotten by her
+absent schoolgirl friends. With a hasty glance over them, she put them
+on one side until after dinner, when, her patient having been seen to,
+she would have a certain amount of time to herself.</p>
+
+<p>But that one glance had been sufficient to bring a flush of pleasure to
+her cheeks, and to invest the gloomy day with a happiness that before
+was absent. She had recognised on one envelope an address in a bold,
+firm writing, very different from the neat, schoolgirl caligraphy of the
+rest; and when her hour of leisure arrived, and over a roaring fire she
+was able to examine her presents and letters, this one big envelope was
+reserved to the last.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Romance</div>
+
+<p>Her fingers trembled as she opened the still damp covering, and saw a
+large card with a raised satin medallion in the centre, on which were
+printed two verses, the words of which caused the hot colour to remount
+to her cheeks, and her heart to redouble its beats.</p>
+
+<p>There was no mistaking the meaning of those lines; love breathed from
+every letter, and, with a hasty look round to make sure she was alone,
+the happy girl pressed the inanimate paper, satin, printer's ink, and
+colours to her lips as though in answer to the message it contained.</p>
+
+<p>The feeling of loneliness had vanished; there was some one who loved
+her, to whom she was dearer than all others, and the world looked
+different in consequence. It was a happy Christmas Day to her after all,
+in spite of her depressing surroundings; and Miss Clayton noticed the
+change in her young nurse, and in the evening, when thanking her for all
+she had done for her, hoped she had not found it "so very dull."</p>
+
+<p>That night Selina Martyn, foolish in her new-found happiness, placed the
+envelope, around which the damp still hung, beneath her pillow, and
+dreamed of the bright future she deemed in store for her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He would write to her, or perhaps come and see her; yes, he would come
+and see her, and let her hear from his own lips what his missive had so
+plainly hinted at. And in her happiness she waited. She waited, and
+waited till her heart grew sick with disappointed longing.</p>
+
+<p>The days passed, but never a word came from the one who had grown so
+dear to her, and as they passed the gladness faded from her face, and
+the light went out from her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>At last she could but feel that she had been mistaken. It was only a
+foolish joke that had meant nothing, and her heart grew hot within her.
+How could she have been so weak and silly as to have imagined such a
+thing? She put the envelope and its contents away, and, saddened and
+subdued, fought bravely to return to her former self.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Clayton made a slow recovery, and when convalescent went for a
+change to the sea, carrying off Selina with her, for she had noticed the
+change in the girl, and put it down to her labours in the sick-room.</p>
+
+<p>School-time commenced again, but without Maude Elliott as a pupil; she
+had gone to be "finished" to a school in Lausanne, and it was months
+before Selina received a letter from her, and then she only casually
+mentioned that her cousin Edgar had left them directly after Christmas
+for a good appointment in Brazil, where he expected to remain for some
+years.</p>
+
+<p>With that letter the last traces of Selina Martyn's romance ended. It
+had crossed her life like a shooting star, and had only left a
+remembrance behind.</p>
+
+<p>But that remembrance never entirely died; its sharp edge was dulled, and
+as the years went on&mdash;and in time she took Miss Clayton's place as the
+head of Seaton Lodge&mdash;she came to regard the unrequited bestowal of her
+young affections as an incident to be smiled over, without any
+vindictive feelings.</p>
+
+<p>And now, when the silver hairs were beginning to make their appearance
+among the ruddy gold, she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>would each Christmas take out from its
+hiding-place in the old-fashioned, brass-bound writing-desk the
+time-stained envelope, and compare the old-world design within with the
+modern and more florid cards, and in her heart of hearts she found more
+beauty in the simple wreath of holly with the couple of robins perched
+above and the bunch of mistletoe hanging below than in its more ornate
+followers of the present time.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Christmas Morning</div>
+
+<p>It was Christmas morning&mdash;an ideal Christmas morning. The frost had been
+keen the previous night, and the branches of the trees had donned a
+sparkling white livery. The sun shone brightly, but there was little
+warmth in its rays, and the snow had crunched and chittered as "sunny
+Miss Martyn" had made her way over it to the church, smiling and sending
+bright glances to right and left of her, for there were few in Stourton
+with whom she was not acquainted. And now, her lunch over&mdash;she was going
+out to dinner that evening&mdash;she sat by the fire with a big pile of
+envelopes and parcels beside her. Her pupils never forgot her, and the
+day would have seemed incomplete to each one of them without a card
+despatched to Miss Martyn.</p>
+
+<p>Her bundle was a large one, and took some time to get through; and then
+the cards had all to be arranged on the mantelpiece. But at length her
+task was done, and as her custom was, she went to the brass-bound desk
+standing on a table in the corner, and, taking out the now worn
+envelope, resumed her seat by the fire.</p>
+
+<p>She had gazed on its contents on many a Christmas day before, but on
+this particular day&mdash;she never knew why&mdash;the memory of the sorrow it had
+caused her seemed keener, and she found the tears were gathering in her
+eyes, and that one of them had fallen on the edge of the satin medallion
+bearing the verses.</p>
+
+<p>With her handkerchief she wiped it away, but in doing so a fold of the
+cambric caught the filagree, and she learnt what she had never known
+before&mdash;that the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>medallion opened like a little door, and that below it
+a folded scrap of paper lay concealed.</p>
+
+<p>What could it mean?</p>
+
+<p>With fingers that trembled so much that they almost refused their task
+she took it out, unfolded it, and, spreading it flat, read the words
+that long years ago would have meant all the world to her.</p>
+
+<p>How cruel had Fate been to her to have hidden them for so long! But the
+thought only remained in her mind a moment, being blotted out by the
+remembrance that he was not heartless, as she had grown to believe.</p>
+
+<p>The faded lines before her laid a strong man's heart at her feet, and
+begged for her love in return, stating that he had been suddenly called
+to a distant post, and asking for an answer before he sailed. The writer
+felt he was presumptuous, but the exigencies of the case must be his
+excuse. If he had no reply he should know his pleading was in vain, and
+would trouble her no more; but if, on the other hand, she was not
+entirely indifferent to him, a line from her would bring him to her side
+to plead his cause in person. There was more in the letter, but this was
+its main purpose.</p>
+
+<p>And this was the end of if: two loving hearts divided and kept apart by
+a damp day and an accidental drop of gum.</p>
+
+<p>No wonder the tears flowed afresh, and "sunny Miss Martyn" belied her
+character.</p>
+
+<p>She was still bending over the sheet of paper spread out on her knee
+when, with a knock at the door, the servant entered, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"A gentleman to see you, Miss."</p>
+
+<p>Hastily brushing away the traces from her cheeks, Miss Martyn rose, to
+see a tall, grey-haired man standing in the doorway, regarding her with
+a bright smile on his face.</p>
+
+<p>She did not recognise him; he was a stranger to her, and yet&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The next moment he strode forward with outstretched hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Selina Martyn, don't you know me? And you have altered so little!"</p>
+
+<p>A moment longer she stood in doubt, and then with a little gasp
+exclaimed:</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Edgar!"</div>
+
+<p>"Edgar! Mr. Freeman&mdash;I&mdash;I didn't know you. You&mdash;you see, it is so long
+since&mdash;since I had that pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>And while she was speaking she was endeavouring with her foot to draw
+out of sight the paper that had fallen from her lap when she had risen.</p>
+
+<p>He noticed her apron, and with an "Excuse me" bent down, and, picking it
+up, laid it on the table. As he did so his eyes fell for a moment on the
+writing, and he started slightly, but did not refer to it.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," she said, and her cheeks had suddenly lost their colour,
+and her hand trembled as she indicated an armchair on the other side of
+the fireplace, saying, "Won't you sit down?"</p>
+
+<p>He did so, easily and naturally, as though paying an ordinary afternoon
+call.</p>
+
+<p>"Selina Martyn, you're looking remarkably well, and nearly as young as
+ever," he continued.</p>
+
+<p>She raised her eyes shyly, and smiled as she replied, "Do you really
+think so, Mr. Freeman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Call me Edgar, I like it better; and we've known each other long enough
+to account for your doing so." He did not give her a chance of
+objecting, but continued, "I only landed in England yesterday, and you
+are the first person I've called on. I got your address from my cousin,
+Mrs. Perry&mdash;Maud Elliott that was; she's living in Monte Video, you
+know; I saw her for a few hours as I passed through. Really, Selina,
+you're looking prettier than ever, I declare!"</p>
+
+<p>"You mustn't flatter an old woman, Mr. Freeman&mdash;well&mdash;Edgar, if you wish
+it. I don't think perhaps there is anything unmaidenly in my using your
+Christian name. We've known each other a great many years now, as you
+say."</p>
+
+<p>"We have indeed, my dear lady. And we might <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>have known each other a
+great deal better if&mdash;if&mdash;well, if you had only seen your way to it. But
+there&mdash;that's all passed now. And yet&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's all passed now." And Selina gave a little sigh, yet loud
+enough for her visitor to hear it, and he moved his chair from the side
+to the front of the fire as she continued, "Do you know&mdash;Edgar&mdash;just
+before you came in I made a discovery&mdash;I found something that reached me
+a day or two before you sailed, and that I had never seen till half an
+hour ago," and she looked down at her fingers that were playing with the
+end of the delicate lace fichu she was wearing.</p>
+
+<p>A smile came over her visitor's face, but he only said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Pon my word, Selina, you're a very beautiful woman! I've carried your
+face in my memory all these years, but I see now how half-blind I must
+have been."</p>
+
+<p>"You mustn't talk nonsense to an old woman like me. I want to tell you
+something, and I don't know how to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't try. Let me guess, and you tell me if I'm right."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Martyn did not answer in words, only bowed her head, and he
+continued, with a glance at the paper lying on the table:</p>
+
+<p>"You once received what you considered a very impertinent letter from
+me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think impertinent is the right term," replied Selina, not
+raising her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, my dear lady, why did you not let me have an answer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Edgar, I only discovered it a few minutes before you came," and
+casting aside all reserve, she told him of the unfortunate combination
+of the damp Christmas morning and the drop of gum that had so
+disastrously separated them.</p>
+
+<p>Long before the recital was complete her visitor had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>shifted his
+chair again and again until it was close beside her own.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"I'm Waiting!"</div>
+<div><a name="selina" id="selina"></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 241px;">
+<img src="images/9.jpg" width="241" height="400" alt="SELINA MARTYN GAVE HER ANSWER." title="SELINA MARTYN GAVE HER ANSWER." />
+<span class="caption">SELINA <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'MARTIN'">MARTYN</ins> GAVE HER ANSWER.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"You poor, dear woman!" he exclaimed, as his arm stole quietly round her
+waist, and Miss Martyn suffered it to remain there.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you hide your letter inside, Edgar?" she asked quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose because I didn't want to startle you, and thought you should
+see the verses first. May I see it now?" he continued. "It's so long
+since I wrote it, you see."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you may see it," replied Selina, without raising her eyes; "but
+it's all passed now," with another little sigh.</p>
+
+<p>His disengaged hand had secured the letter, and hastily glancing over
+the writing, he exclaimed with sudden fervour:</p>
+
+
+
+<p>"No, Selina! Every word I wrote then I mean to-day. When I left England
+years ago it was with your image in my heart, and with the determination
+that when I was rich I would come back and try my luck again. And in my
+heart you, and you alone, have reigned ever since. And when after long
+years I heard from my cousin that you might still be found at Seaton
+Lodge, you don't know what that meant to me. It made a boy of me again.
+It blotted out all the years that have divided us, and here I am waiting
+for my answer."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Edgar, we mustn't be silly. Remember, we're no longer boy and
+girl."</p>
+
+<p>"I remember nothing of the kind. All I remember is that it's Christmas
+Day, that I've asked you a question, and that I am waiting for the
+answer you would have given me years ago but for the damp and a drop of
+gum. You know what it would have been then; give me it now. Dearest, I'm
+waiting."</p>
+
+<p>And Selina Martyn gave her answer, an all-sufficient one to both.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Whilst Waiting for the Motor</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Madeline Oyler</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Young people, read and take warning by this awful example.</div>
+
+<p>Her name was Isabel, and she really was a very nice, good little
+girl&mdash;when she remembered. But you can't always remember, you know; you
+wouldn't be a little girl if you could, and this happened on one of
+those days when she didn't remember.</p>
+
+<p>Of course Peter forgot too; but then you would expect him to, for he was
+only a boy, and boys, as I suppose you know, cannot use their brains in
+the way that girls can.</p>
+
+<p>The two had spent their morning in the usual way, had breakfast, fed the
+rabbits, said "Good-morning" to the horses, got mother a bunch of
+flowers from their own gardens (Isabel's turn this morning), seen daddy
+off, and then had lessons.</p>
+
+<p>You wouldn't have guessed for a moment that it was going to be a bad
+day; everything had gone well. Peter had actually remembered that Madrid
+was the capital of Spain, always a rather doubtful question with him;
+and Isabel had said her eight times with only two mistakes, and they
+were slight ones.</p>
+
+<p>So you may imagine they were feeling very happy and good, because it was
+a half-holiday, and, best of all, be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>cause Auntie May was coming over
+with her big motor at three o'clock, to take them back to tea with
+grandpapa.</p>
+
+<p>I should like you to understand that it was not just an ordinary tea,
+but a special one; for it was grandpapa's birthday, and, as perhaps you
+know, grandpapas don't often have birthday parties, so it was a great
+occasion.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Presents</div>
+
+<p>It had taken a long time to choose his presents, but at last they were
+decided.</p>
+
+<p>Isabel had made him a blue silk shaving tidy, with "Shaving" worked in
+pink across it. The "h-a-v" of "Shaving" were rather smaller than the
+other letters, because, after she had drawn a large "S," she was afraid
+there would not be room for such big letters. Afterwards she found there
+was plenty of room, so she did "i-n-g" bigger to make up for it.</p>
+
+<p>After all, it really didn't matter unless you were <i>very</i> particular;
+and of course you wouldn't see that the stitches showed rather badly on
+the inside unless you opened it. Besides, as grandpapa grew a beard, and
+didn't shave at all, he wouldn't want to look inside.</p>
+
+<p>Peter had bought a knife for him; being a boy, and therefore rather
+helpless, he was not able to make him anything. He did begin to carve
+grandpapa a wooden ship, although Isabel pointed out to him that
+grandpapa would never sail it; but Peter thought he might like to have
+it just to look at.</p>
+
+<p>However, just at an important part the wood split; so after all it had
+to be a knife, which of course is always useful.</p>
+
+<p>These presents were kept very secret; not even mother was allowed to
+know what they were.</p>
+
+<p>Three o'clock seemed such a long time coming&mdash;you know how slow it <i>can</i>
+be. But at half-past two nurse took them up to dress. Peter had a nice
+white serge suit, and nurse had put out a clean starched muslin for
+Isabel, but she (being rather a vain little girl) begged for her white
+silk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I ought to explain about this frock. One of her aunties sent it to her
+on her last birthday. It was quite the most beautiful little dress you
+ever saw&mdash;thick white silk embroidered with daisies. Isabel loved it
+dearly, but was only allowed to wear it on very great occasions.</p>
+
+<p>Well, when she asked if she might put it on, nurse said she thought it
+would be wiser not to. "You won't be able to run about and climb trees
+at your grandpapa's if you do, Miss Isabel."</p>
+
+<p>"But I shan't want to," replied Isabel, "for it is a grown-up party, and
+we shall only sit and talk."</p>
+
+<p>So after all she was allowed to wear it, and with that on and a
+beautiful new sash her Uncle Dick had just sent her from India, she felt
+a very smart little girl indeed.</p>
+
+<p>The shaving tidy she had done up in a parcel, and Peter had the knife in
+his pocket, so they were quite ready, and as they went down to the hall
+the clock struck three.</p>
+
+<p>Alas! there was no motor waiting; instead there was mother with a
+telegram in her hand saying that Auntie May couldn't come for them till
+four o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>What a disappointment! A whole hour longer to wait! What were they to do
+with themselves?</p>
+
+<p>Mother suggested that they should sit down quietly and read, but who can
+possibly sit and read when a big motor is coming soon to fetch them?</p>
+
+<p>So mother very kindly said they might go out in the garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Only remember," she said, "you are not to run about and get hot and
+untidy; and keep on the paths, don't go on the grass."</p>
+
+<p>So out they went, Isabel hugging her precious parcel. She was afraid to
+leave it in the hall lest mother should see it and guess by the shape
+what it was, which of course would spoil it all.</p>
+
+<p>They strolled round the garden, peeped at the rabbits and a brood of
+baby chickens just hatched, then wandered on down the drive.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Can't we play something?" suggested Isabel&mdash;"something quite clean and
+quiet with no running in it."</p>
+
+<p>Peter thought for some time, then he said: "I don't believe there are
+any games like that." Being a boy, you see, he couldn't think of one, so
+he said he didn't think there were any.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Follow-my-leader</div>
+
+<p>"Yes, there are," said Isabel, "heaps of them, only I can't think of
+one. Oh, I know, follow my leader, walking, not running, and of course
+not on the grass. I'll be leader."</p>
+
+<p>So off they started, and great fun it was. Isabel led into such queer
+places&mdash;the potting-house, tool-shed, laundry, and even into the dairy
+once. Then it was Peter's turn, and he went through the chicken-run,
+stable-yard, and kitchen-garden, and then down the drive.</p>
+
+<p>When he got to the gate he hesitated, then started off down the road.</p>
+
+<p>"Ought we to go down here, do you think?" asked Isabel, plodding along
+behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, it's all right," Peter said; "we're keeping off the grass and
+not running, and that's all mother told us," and on they went.</p>
+
+<p>After walking for a little way, Peter turned off down a side lane, a
+favourite walk of theirs in summer, and Isabel followed obediently.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, for the last three days it had rained heavily, and the
+deep cart-ruts on both sides of the road were full of thick, muddy
+water.</p>
+
+<p>In trying to walk along the top of one of them, Peter's foot slipped,
+and, before he could prevent it, in it went, right over the top of his
+nice patent-leather shoe.</p>
+
+<p>Isabel, who was following close behind, intently copying her leader in
+all his movements, plopped hers in too.</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness, what a mess!" said Peter, surveying his muddy foot. "How
+awful it looks! I think I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>shall make the other one dirty too, then it
+won't look so bad."</p>
+
+<p>So in went each clean foot.</p>
+
+<p>And then it was, I am sorry to say, that Isabel forgot to be good. You
+remember I told you that she did sometimes?</p>
+
+<p>She said: "Now that our feet are dirty, let's paddle, they can't look
+worse, and it's such fun!" And as Peter thought so too, paddle they did,
+up and down the dirty, muddy cart-ruts.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Peter's white suit and even his clean tie were spotted with
+mud, and Isabel's beautiful little dress was soaked with muddy water all
+round the bottom, and, saddest of all, her new sash was dragging behind
+her in the water, quite spoilt; but they were so excited that they
+neither of them noticed how they were spoiling their clothes, or that
+the parcel with the shaving-tidy in it had been dropped and stamped down
+into the mud.</p>
+
+<p>They were in the middle of the fun when suddenly they heard in the
+distance the "toot-toot" of a motor-horn, and, looking at each other in
+dismay, they realised it must be Auntie May come to fetch them.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall have to change first," gasped Isabel, as they hurried along
+the road. "I'm afraid we look rather messy!"</p>
+
+<p>Peter said nothing; he was feeling too miserable.</p>
+
+<p>It was a sad sight that met nurse's horrified eyes as she hurried
+anxiously out through the gates in search of them, having hunted the
+garden in vain; and it was a very shamefaced little pair that hastened
+by the big motor at the front door and into the hall, where they found
+mother and Auntie May waiting.</p>
+
+<p>Isabel and Peter really did feel more sorry and ashamed than I can tell
+you, and, grievous though it be, mother and Auntie May went to tea with
+grandpapa, but Peter and Isabel went to bed!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>The Grumpy Man</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hartley Perks</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">The story of a hard heart, a little child, and a kind
+friend.</div>
+
+<p>It was past nine on a winter's evening. Through the misty gloom a tenor
+voice rang clear and resonant. The singer stood on the edge of the
+pavement, guitar in hand, with upturned coat-collar, a wide-brimmed soft
+hat sheltering his face.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="I'll not leave thee">
+<tr><td align='left'>"I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">To pine on the stem:</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Since the lovely are sleeping,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Go sleep thou with them.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Thus kindly I scatter</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Thy leaves o'er the bed,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Where thy mates of the garden</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Lie scentless and dead.</span><br /><br /></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">So soon may I follow</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">When friendships decay,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And from love's shining circle</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">The gems drop away.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">When true hearts lie withered,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And fond ones are flown,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Oh! who would inhabit</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">This bleak world alone?"</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>
+<div class='unindent'>The well-placed voice and accent were those of an educated man. The
+words of the old song, delivered clearly with true musical feeling, were
+touched with a thrill of passion.</div>
+
+<p>The thread of the melody was abruptly cut off by a sudden mad clatter of
+hoofs. A carriage dashed wildly along and swerved round the corner. The
+singer dropped his instrument and sprang at the horse's bridle. A
+moment's struggle, and he fell by the curb-stone dazed and shaken, but
+the runaway was checked and the footman was down at his head, while the
+coachman tightened his rein.</p>
+
+<p>The singer struggled to his feet. The brougham window was lowered, and a
+clear-cut feminine face leaned forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much," said a cool, level voice, in a tone suitable to
+the recovery of some fallen trifle.</p>
+
+<p>"Williamson"&mdash;to the coachman&mdash;"give this man half a crown, and drive
+on."</p>
+
+<p>While Williamson fumbled in his pocket for the money, the singer gave
+one glance at the proud, cold face framed by the carriage window, then
+turned hurriedly away.</p>
+
+<p>"Hey, David!" called the coachman to the groom. "Give her her head and
+jump up. She'll be all right now. Whoa&mdash;whoa, old girl. That chap's
+gone&mdash;half-crowns ain't seemingly in his line. Steady, old girl!" And
+the carriage disappeared into the night.</p>
+
+<p>The singer picked up his guitar and leant on the railings. He was shaken
+and faint. Something seemed amiss with his left hand. He laid his
+forehead against the cool iron and drew a deep breath, muttering&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It was she! When I heard her cold, cruel voice I thanked God I am as I
+am. Thank God for my child and a sacred memory&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you hurt?" asked a friendly voice.</p>
+
+<p>The singer looked up to see a man standing hatless above him on the
+steps of the house. He strove to reply, but his tongue refused to act;
+he swayed while <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>rolling waves of blackness encompassed him. He
+staggered blindly forward, then sank into darkness&mdash;and for him time was
+not.</p>
+
+<p>When consciousness returned his eyes opened upon a glint of firelight, a
+shaded lamp on a table by which sat a man with bent head writing. It was
+a fine head, large and massive, the hair full and crisp. A rugged hand
+grasped the pen with decision, and there was no hesitation in its rapid
+movement.</p>
+
+<p>The singer lay for a moment watching the bent head, when it suddenly
+turned, and a pair of remarkably keen grey eyes met his own.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you are better! That's right!" Rising, the writer went to a
+cupboard against the wall, whence he brought a decanter and glass.</p>
+
+<p>"I am a doctor," he said kindly. "Luckily I was handy, or you might have
+had a bad fall."</p>
+
+<p>The singer tried to rise.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't move for a few moments," continued the doctor, holding a glass to
+his lips. "Drink this, and you will soon be all right again."</p>
+
+<p>The singer drank, and after a pause glanced inquiringly at his left
+hand, which lay bound up at his side.</p>
+
+<p>"Only a sprain," said the doctor, answering his glance. "I saw how it
+happened. Scant thanks, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The singer sat up and his eyes flashed.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"I want no Thanks!"</div>
+
+<p>"I wanted no thanks from her," he muttered bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"How is that?" questioned the doctor. "You knew the lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I knew her. The evil she has brought me can never be blotted out
+by rivers of thanks!"</p>
+
+<p>The doctor's look questioned his sanity.</p>
+
+<p>"I fail to understand," he remarked simply.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Waldron, Philip Waldron," went on the singer. "You have a
+right to my name."</p>
+
+<p>"Not connected with Waldron the great financier?" again questioned the
+doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"His son. There is no reason to hide the truth <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>from you. You have been
+very kind&mdash;more than kind. I thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"But I understood Waldron had only one son, and he died some years
+ago&mdash;I attended him."</p>
+
+<p>"Waldron had two sons, Lucien and Philip. I am Philip."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I can well understand your surprise. My father gave me scant
+thought&mdash;his soul was bound up in my elder brother."</p>
+
+<p>"But why this masquerade?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is no masquerade," returned the singer sadly. "I sing to eke out my
+small salary as clerk in a city firm. My abilities in that way do not
+command a high figure," he added, with a bitter laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Then your father&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sent me adrift because I refused to marry that woman whose carriage I
+stopped to-night."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor made an expression of surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it seems strange I should come across her in that fashion, doesn't
+it? The sight of her has touched old sores."</p>
+
+<p>Philip Waldron's eyes gleamed as he fixed them on the doctor's face.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you something of my story&mdash;if you wish it."</p>
+
+<p>"Say on."</p>
+
+<p>"As a young man at home I was greatly under my father's influence.
+Perhaps because of his indifference I was the more anxious to please
+him. At all events, urged by him, but with secret reluctance, I proposed
+and was accepted by that lady whose carriage I stopped to-night. She was
+rich, beautiful, but I did not love her. I know my conduct was weak, it
+was ignoble&mdash;but I did her no wrong. For me she had not one spark of
+affection. My prospective wealth was the bait."</p>
+
+<p>Waldron paused, and drew his hand across his eyes. "Then&mdash;then I met the
+girl who in the end became <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>my wife. That she was poor was an
+insurmountable barrier in my father's eyes. I sought freedom from my
+hateful engagement in vain. I need not trouble you with all the story.
+Suffice it that I left home and married the woman I loved. My father's
+anger was overwhelming. We were never forgiven. When my brother died I
+hoped for some sign from my father, but he made none. And now my wife
+also is dead."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are alone in the world?" asked the doctor, who had followed his
+story with interest.</p>
+
+<p>Philip Waldron's face lit up with a rarely winning smile.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, "I have a little girl." Then the smile faded, as he
+added, "She is a cripple."</p>
+
+<p>"And have you never appealed to your father?"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Unopened Letters</div>
+
+<p>"While my wife lived&mdash;many times. For her sake I threw pride aside, but
+my letters were always returned unopened."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor sat silent for some time. Then steadfastly regarding the
+young man, he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Norman. I have known and attended your father now for a good
+many years. I was at your brother's death-bed. I never heard him mention
+a second son."</p>
+
+<p>Philip sighed. "No, I suppose not. I am as dead to him now."</p>
+
+<p>"You are indifferent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me; not indifferent, only hopeless. Had there been any chance
+for me, it came when my brother died."</p>
+
+<p>"For the sake of your child will you not appeal once more?"</p>
+
+<p>Philip's face softened. "For my child I would do much. Thank God,"
+glancing at his left hand, "my right is uninjured. My city work is safe.
+Singing is not my profession, you know," he added, with a dreary smile.
+"I only sing to buy luxuries for my lame little one."</p>
+
+<p>Rising, he held out his hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You have been a true Samaritan, Dr. Norman. I sincerely thank you."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor took the outstretched hand.</p>
+
+<p>"May I help you further?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see well how you can, but I will take the will for the deed."</p>
+
+<p>"But you do not forbid me to try?"</p>
+
+<p>Philip shook his head despondingly. "You may try, certainly. Matters
+cannot be worse than they are; only you will waste valuable time."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me be judge of that. May I come to see you?"</p>
+
+<p>Philip hesitated; then, when urged, gave his address, but in a manner
+indicating that he never expected it to be used.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Norman, however, was a man of his word. A few days after that chance
+meeting found him toiling up the steep stairs of block C in Dalmatian
+Buildings, Marylebone, having ascertained below that the Waldrons' rooms
+were on the top floor.</p>
+
+<p>"There had need be good air when one gets to the surface here," groaned
+the doctor, when he reached the top, and paused to recover breath before
+knocking.</p>
+
+<p>Sounds came from within&mdash;a light, childish laugh, a patter of talk. In
+response to his knock, a step accompanied by the tap-tap of a crutch
+came across the wooden floor. After some hesitation the door was opened
+by a pale, brown-eyed child of about seven. A holland pinafore reached
+to her feet, the right side hitched up by the crutch under that arm, on
+which she leant heavily. Dark, wavy hair fell over her shoulders,
+framing a pale, oval face, out of which shone a pair of bright,
+wide-open eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She remained in the doorway looking up at the doctor.</p>
+<div><a name="i" id="i"></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 242px;">
+<img src="images/10.jpg" width="242" height="400" alt="&quot;I SUPPOSE YOU&#39;VE COME ABOUT THE GAS BILL.&quot;" title="&quot;I SUPPOSE YOU&#39;VE COME ABOUT THE GAS BILL.&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;I SUPPOSE YOU&#39;VE COME ABOUT THE GAS BILL.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I suppose you've come about the gas bill," she said at length, with an
+old-womanish air, "but it's no use. Father is out, and I have only
+sixpence. It's my own, but you can have it if you promise to take care
+of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm a doctor, and a friend of your father's," replied Norman, with a
+reassuring smile.</p>
+
+<p>The child at once moved aside.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Real Live Visitor</div>
+
+<p>"Please come in. I've just been playing with my dolls for visitors, but
+it will be much nicer to have a real live one."</p>
+
+<p>The room the doctor entered was small, but cheerful; the floor
+uncarpeted, but clean, and the window framed a patch of sky over the
+chimney-pots below. A table stood near the window, by it two chairs on
+which lay two dolls.</p>
+
+<p>"Come to the window," requested the child, tap-tapping over the floor.
+"Lucretia and Flora, rise at once to greet a stranger," she cried
+reproachfully to the dolls, lifting them as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>She stood waiting until Dr. Norman was seated, then drew a chair facing
+him and sat down. Her keen, intelligent glance searched him over, then
+dwelt upon his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you a good doctor?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you want to know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because father says doctors are good, and I wondered if you were. You
+must not mind my dollies being rather rude. It is difficult to teach
+them manners so high up."</p>
+
+<p>"How so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, they have no society but my own, because they have to be
+in bed before father comes home."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you never go out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes on Sundays father carries me downstairs, and when we can
+afford it he hires a cab to take me to the Park. But, you see, we can't
+always afford it," with a wise shake of the head.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor child!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you say 'poor child' in that voice? I'm not a poor child. I got
+broken&mdash;yes&mdash;and was badly mended, dad says, but I'm not a 'poor child.'
+Poor childs have no dolls, and no funny insides like me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The doctor smiled. "What sort of inside is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, I have no outside little friends, and so my friends live
+inside me. I make new ones now and then, when the old ones get dull, but
+I like the old ones best myself."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment a step sounded on the stairs; the child's face lit up
+with a look which made her beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>"That's father!" she exclaimed, and starting up, hastened as fast as her
+crutch would permit to the door.</p>
+
+<p>Waldron stooped to kiss tenderly the sweet, welcoming face held up to
+his, then he grasped Dr. Norman's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"So, doctor, you are true," he said with feeling. "You do not promise
+and forget."</p>
+
+<p>"I am the slower to promise," returned Dr. Norman. "I have just been
+making acquaintance with your little maid."</p>
+
+<p>"My little Sophy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, father?"</p>
+
+<p>Waldron passed a caressing hand over the child's head.</p>
+
+<p>"We two want to talk, dear, so you must go into your own little room."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, father; but I will bid goodbye to this doctor first," she said,
+with a quaint air, offering Dr. Norman a thin little hand.</p>
+
+<p>As the door closed upon her Waldron remarked rather bitterly, "You see I
+told the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow," cried the doctor, "I did not doubt you for a moment! I
+came this afternoon to tell you I have seen your father&mdash;he sent for me.
+He is not well. He seems troubled more than his illness warrants. Can it
+be that under that callous manner he hides regret for the past?"</p>
+
+<p>Philip sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"You must be ever present to his memory," went on the doctor. "It might
+be possible to touch his feelings."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How?"</p>
+
+<p>"Through your child&mdash;nay, hear me out. No harm shall come to her; I
+would not propose it did I believe such a thing possible."</p>
+
+<p>"But it might mean separation. No, doctor, let us struggle along&mdash;she at
+least is happy."</p>
+
+<p>"For the present, yes, but for how long? She will not always remain a
+child. Have you had a good medical opinion in regard to her lameness?"</p>
+
+<p>"The best I could afford at the time."</p>
+
+<p>"And&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was unfavourable to trying any remedy; but that was not long after
+her mother's death."</p>
+
+<p>"May I examine her?"</p>
+
+<p>Waldron's glad eagerness was eloquent of thanks.</p>
+
+<p>When Dr. Norman left those upper rooms there was a light long absent on
+Philip's face as he drew his lame child within his arms.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Sophy takes a Drive</div>
+
+<p>In a few days the doctor called again at Dalmatian Buildings, and
+carried Sophy off in his carriage, the child all excitement at the
+change and novelty.</p>
+
+<p>After a short drive Dr. Norman said, "Now, Sophy, I have a rather
+serious case on hand, and I am going to leave you for a little at a
+friend's, and call for you again later. You won't mind?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think not. I shall be better able to tell you after I have been."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," went on Sophy, with a wise nod of her little head, "you can't
+tell how you will like things until you try them&mdash;now, can you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, certainly not. So you can tell me how you get on as I drive you
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"Is this your serious case or mine?" asked Sophy anxiously, as the
+carriage drew up at a large house in a West-End square.</p>
+
+<p>"This is where I hope to leave you," returned the doctor, smiling. "But
+you must wait until I find if it be convenient for me to do so."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Dr. Norman was shown into the library, where by the fire in an arm-chair
+sat an old man, one foot supported on a stool before him. His face was
+drawn and pinched, and his temper none of the sweetest, to judge by the
+curt response he made to the doctor's greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"You are late this morning," was his sole remark.</p>
+
+<p>"I may be slightly&mdash;but you are fast becoming independent of my care."</p>
+
+<p>An unamiable grunt was the old man's reply.</p>
+
+<p>When a few medical questions had been put and answered, Dr. Norman
+placed himself on the hearthrug, looking down at his patient as he drew
+on his gloves.</p>
+
+<p>"You are much better," he said cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you think so, do you? Well, I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think so. I should like to prescribe you change of scene, Mr.
+Waldron."</p>
+
+<p>"Want to be rid of me, I suppose. Well, I'm not going!"</p>
+
+<p>"Change of thought might do equally well."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm likely to get it, chained here by the leg, ain't I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, change of thought comes by association, and is quite available;
+in fact, at the present moment I have in my carriage a small person who
+has given me much change of thought this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't see what good your change of thought will do me!" growled Mr.
+Waldron.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Norman regarded him speculatively.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if you would do me a favour. I have rather a serious case on
+the other side of the square, will take me about half an hour; might I
+leave my small friend here for that time?"</p>
+
+<p>"What! in this room?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! You don't mean to bring a child in here!"</p>
+
+<p>"Again I say, why not? She will amuse and interest you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, of all the&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't excite yourself, Mr. Waldron. You know how bad that is for you."</p>
+
+<p>"You are giving me some change of thought with a vengeance, doctor! Why
+should you bring a nasty brat to disturb me?"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Some Amusement</div>
+
+<p>"I only offered you some amusement&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Amusement be hanged! You know I hate children."</p>
+
+<p>"I know you say so."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Waldron growled.</p>
+
+<p>"She is not so very small," went on the doctor&mdash;"about seven or eight, I
+think."</p>
+
+<p>"Humph! Young enough to be a nuisance! A girl, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Girls are not so bad as boys," he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"No, so some people think&mdash;good-morning." Dr. Norman went towards the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"A girl, you say?" growled old Mr. Waldron again.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; good-morning."</p>
+
+<p>"I say, don't be in such a hurry!"</p>
+
+<p>"I really cannot stay longer at present; goodbye."</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Norman opened the door and stood within it. Old Mr. Waldron fidgeted
+in his chair, muttering&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Horrid child! Hate children! Perfect nuisance!"</p>
+
+<p>The doctor partly closed the door.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, have you gone?" cried the old man, glancing round. "Dr. Norman,"
+he called suddenly, "you can bring that brat in if it will be any
+pleasure to you, and if you find me dead in half an hour my death will
+lie at your door!"</p>
+
+<p>The doctor at once accepted this grudging concession, and hastening to
+the carriage, brought Sophy back in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"What the&mdash;&mdash;" called out old Mr. Waldron when he saw the child. "Is she
+ill?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, only lame," replied the doctor, as he placed his burden in a
+chair opposite to the old man.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Sophy," he admonished, "you will be a pleasant companion to this
+gentleman until my return."</p>
+
+<p>Sophy eyed her neighbour doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try to," she replied, and so the doctor left them.</p>
+
+<p>For some time this strangely assorted pair eyed each other in silence.
+At length Sophy's gaze rested on the old man's foot where it lay in its
+large slipper on the stool before him.</p>
+
+<p>"I see you are broken too," she said in a sympathetic voice. "It isn't
+really pleasant to be broken, is it, although we try to pretend we don't
+care, don't we?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, it isn't exactly pleasant," replied Mr. Waldron, and a half-smile
+flickered over his face. "How did you get broken?"</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody let me fall, father says, and afterwards I was only
+<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'half mended'">half-mended</ins>. It is horrid to be only a half-mended thing&mdash;but some
+people are so stupid, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Waldron grunted.</p>
+
+<p>"Does it hurt you to speak that you make that funny noise?" asked Sophy
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm an old man, and I do as I like."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! When I'm an old woman may I do as I like?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," grudgingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I shall be an awfully nice old woman; I shouldn't like to be cross
+and ugly. I don't like ugly people, and there are so many going about
+loose. I am always so glad I like my father's face."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I have to see it every, every day. Have you anybody whose face
+you like?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; I haven't."</p>
+
+<p>"What a pity! I wonder if you like mine&mdash;or perhaps you would like
+father's. It does seem a shame you shouldn't have somebody."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I do very well without."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, I'm sure you don't," replied Sophy with deep concern. "You may
+do somehow, but you can't do well."</p>
+
+<p>"What's your father like?" asked Mr. Waldron, amused in spite of
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"My father's like a song," returned Sophy, as though she had given the
+subject much reflection.</p>
+
+<p>"A song! How's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes he is gay&mdash;full of jokes and laughter, sometimes he is sad,
+and I cry softly to myself in bed; but he is always beautiful, you
+know&mdash;like a song."</p>
+
+<p>"And your mother?"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"It is Lonely Sometimes"</div>
+
+<p>"I haven't got a mother," replied Sophy sadly. "That's where I'm only
+half like other little girls. My mother was frightened, and so was the
+little brother who was coming to play with me. They were both
+frightened, and so they ran away back again to God. I wish they had
+stayed&mdash;it is lonely sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>"But you have your father."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, only father is away all day, and I sit such a lot at our window."</p>
+
+<p>"But you have no pain, have you?" Mr. Waldron questioned with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered Sophy, sighing faintly. "Only a pain in my little mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! my pain is in my toe, and I expect hurts a deal more than yours.
+What's your father about that he leaves you alone and doesn't have you
+seen to, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Sophy's face blazed. "How dare you speak in that voice of my father!"
+she cried. "He is the kindest and best, and works for me until he is
+quite thin and pale. Do you work for anybody? I don't think you do," she
+added scornfully, "you look too fat!"</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't much respect for grey hairs, young lady."</p>
+
+<p>"Grey hairs, why?" asked Sophy, still ruffled.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Waldron took refuge in platitudes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have always been taught that the young should respect age, of which
+grey hair is an emblem."</p>
+
+<p>"How funny!" said Sophy, leaning forward to look more closely at her
+companion. "To think of so much meaning in those tufts behind your ears!
+I always thought what was inside mattered&mdash;not the outside. How much
+silly people must long to have grey hairs, that they may be respected. I
+must ask father if that is true."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you respect your father?" said Mr. Waldron severely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," replied Sophy. "I only <i>love</i> him. I think the feeling I have
+for the gas man must be respect. Yes, I think it must be, there is
+something so disagreeable about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, he so often comes when father is out and asks for money,
+just as if money grew on our floor, then he looks at me and goes away
+grumbling. I think it must be respect I feel when I see his back going
+downstairs."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Waldron laughed. "You are a queer little girl!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I suppose I am," answered Sophy resignedly. "Only I hope I'm not
+unpleasant."</p>
+
+<p>When Dr. Norman returned he found the child and his patient on the best
+of terms. After placing Sophy in the carriage, he came back at Mr.
+Waldron's request for a few words.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a funny child," began the old man, glancing up at the doctor.
+"She actually made me laugh! What are you going to do with her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Take her home."</p>
+
+<p>"Humph! I suppose I couldn't&mdash;couldn't&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Buy her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious, Mr. Waldron! We are in the twentieth century!"</p>
+
+<p>"Pity, isn't it! But there are many ways of buying <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>without paying cash.
+See what you can do. She amuses me. I'll come down handsomely for her."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you must let me think it over," replied the doctor in his most
+serious manner, but he smiled as he shut the library door.</p>
+
+<p>An evening shortly afterwards Dr. Norman again called on old Mr.
+Waldron. He found his patient much better, and seated at his
+writing-table, from which he glanced up quite briskly to inquire&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, have you brought our queer little friend again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not this time, but I have come to know if you will help me."</p>
+
+<p>"Got some interesting boy up your sleeve this time, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, only the same girl. I want to cure her lameness."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that possible?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe quite possible, but it will mean an operation and probably a
+slow recovery."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't want me to operate, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>The doctor smiled. "Only as friend and helper. I will do the deed
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>Old Mr. Waldron growled. "Flaunting your good deeds to draw this badger,
+eh? Well, where do I come in?"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Dr. Norman's Proposal</div>
+
+<p>"Let me bring the child here. Let her be cared for under your roof. Her
+father is poor&mdash;he cannot afford nurses and the paraphernalia of a
+sick-room."</p>
+
+<p>"So I am to turn my house into a hospital for the sick brat of nobody
+knows who&mdash;a likely tale! Why, I haven't even heard the father's name!"</p>
+
+<p>"He is my friend, let that suffice."</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't suffice!" roared the old man, working himself into a rage.
+"I call it pretty cool that you should come here and foist your charity
+brats on me!"</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Norman took up his hat.</p>
+
+<p>"You requested me to see if the father would allow you to adopt the
+child&mdash;&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Adopt; did I say adopt?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; you used a stronger term&mdash;'buy,' I think it was."</p>
+
+<p>Old Mr. Waldron grunted. "I said nothing about nurses and carving up
+legs."</p>
+
+<p>"No, these are only incidents by the way. Well, good-evening." Dr.
+Norman opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you in such haste?" demanded Mr. Waldron.</p>
+
+<p>"I have people waiting for me," returned the doctor curtly. "I am only
+wasting time here. Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>He went outside, but ere his hand left the door a call from within
+reached him.</p>
+
+<p>"Come back, you old touch-flint!" cried Mr. Waldron. "You are trying to
+force my hand&mdash;I know you! Well, I'll yield. Let that uncommonly queer
+child come here; only remember I am to have no trouble, no annoyance.
+Make your own arrangements&mdash;but don't bother me!"</p>
+
+<p>So it came to pass that little Sophy Waldron was received into her
+grandfather's house all unknowing that it was her grandfather's.</p>
+
+<p>He saw her for a few moments on the day of her arrival.</p>
+
+<p>"I hear you are going to be made strong and well," was the old man's
+greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," returned Sophy, with a wise look. "They are going to try and mend
+me straight. I hope they won't make a mistake this time. Mistakes are so
+vexatious."</p>
+
+<p>"When you are well would you like to live with me? I want a little girl
+about the house."</p>
+
+<p>"What for? You have lots and lots of people to do things for you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Waldron sighed. "I would like somebody to do things without being
+paid for their work."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I understand," replied Sophy. "Well, I'll see how my leg turns out,
+and if father thinks you a nice old man&mdash;of course it will all depend on
+father."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Confound it! I forgot the father!"</p>
+
+<p>"You mustn't say naughty words, Mr. Sir," remonstrated Sophy, shaking a
+forefinger at him. "And you mustn't speak horrid of my father; I love
+him."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Could you Love me?"</div>
+
+<p>Old Mr. Waldron regarded her wistfully. "Do you think you could love me,
+Sophy?"</p>
+
+<p>The child eyed him critically.</p>
+
+<p>"I like you in bits," she replied. "But perhaps the good bits may
+spread, then I should like you very much."</p>
+
+<p>Just then the doctor came to take her to the room prepared, where a
+pleasant-faced nurse was in waiting.</p>
+
+<p>Some hours afterwards, when Dr. Norman's task was done, and poor little
+Sophy lay white but peaceful on her bed, she looked up at the nurse,
+saying with a whimsical smile&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to see the grumpy man."</p>
+
+<p>"And so you shall, my dear," was the nurse's hasty assurance. "Whoever
+can that be?" she muttered under her breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the grumpy man downstairs," reiterated Sophy.</p>
+
+<p>"Would it be right?" questioned her father, who knelt by the bed,
+holding a small hand clasped firmly in his own.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll see what the doctor says," replied the nurse, retiring into the
+adjoining room.</p>
+
+<p>She speedily returned to say that Dr. Norman would go down himself to
+bring up old Mr. Waldron.</p>
+
+<p>Sophy turned a pale face contentedly to her father.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear dadums," she whispered, "now you will see my friend. He is not
+such a bad old man, though he does grunt sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>For answer Philip Waldron bowed his head upon the hand he held, and
+waited.</p>
+
+<p>Soon steps and voices were heard outside.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this the room? A terrible way up! Why didn't you put her a floor
+lower? Quieter?&mdash;oh, well, have your own way!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The doctor and Mr. Waldron entered. In the half-light of the room the
+little figure on the bed was dimly visible. Both men paused while the
+doctor laid a professional hand on the child's pulse.</p>
+
+<p>"She is all right," he remarked reassuringly.</p>
+
+<p>"So you wanted to see me," began Mr. Waldron, looking down at the small
+head where it lay on the pillow. "How pale she is!" he ejaculated to
+himself. "I hope they have treated her properly!"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite properly, thank you," replied Sophy, answering his half-whisper.
+"I wanted you to see my daddy."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Waldron noticed for the first time the bowed head on the other side
+of the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," continued Sophy, following his glance. "This is my daddy, and he
+wants to help me say 'Thank you.' For Dr. Norman has told me how kind
+you are, if you are sometimes grumpy."</p>
+
+<p>Philip Waldron slowly raised his head and stood up, facing his father
+across the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Philip!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it possible?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not intend you should find me here," said Philip, his voice
+hoarse with emotion, "but it was her wish to see you; and I&mdash;I can go
+away."</p>
+
+<p>He moved as if to leave the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay!" came a peremptory command. "I&mdash;I have forgiven you long ago, my
+son; only pride and self-will stood in the way. For her sake, Philip!"</p>
+
+<p>And the old man stretched a trembling hand across the child.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Dogs We Have Known</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Lady Catherine Milnes-Gaskell</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Some true dog-stories for all who love dogs.</div>
+
+<p>Some years ago I was the guest of my friends Colonel and Mrs. Hamilton.
+Besides myself, there was a large Christmas party of friends and
+children staying in the house. One evening in the drawing-room we all
+joined in the children's play.</p>
+
+<p>"What would you say," interposed Mr. Hillary, one of the guests, and he
+addressed the children, "if we were all in turn to tell you stories of
+all the dogs we have known?"</p>
+
+<p>A little buzz of applause met this proposal, and our hostess, being
+pressed to tell the first tale, began by saying, "Well, then, I will
+tell you how I found my little terrier 'Snap.'"</p>
+
+<p>"One day, about two years ago, I was driving into Charleston, which, as
+you know, is about two miles off. A little distance from the park gates
+I noticed that my pony carriage was followed by a little white dog&mdash;or
+at least by a little dog that had once been white. It ran along through
+the black mud of the roads, but nothing seemed to discourage it. On it
+came, keeping up some ten yards behind my carriage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"At first I thought we only happened both of us to be going in the same
+direction, and that it was merely hurrying home; but I was soon
+undeceived, for to my surprise the little dog followed me first into one
+shop and then into another.</p>
+
+<div><a name="at" id="at"></a></div>
+<div class="figright" style="width: 237px;">
+<img src="images/11.jpg" width="237" height="400" alt="AT THE SHOW." title="AT THE SHOW." />
+<span class="caption">AT THE SHOW.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Finally I got out again and went into the last. On returning to the
+ponies I was astonished to find that the poor little wanderer had jumped
+into the carriage, and ensconced herself comfortably amongst the
+cushions."</p>
+
+<p>"'The brute won't let me take it out,' said Dick, my diminutive groom;
+'it growls if I only touch it, something terrible.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, leave it, then,' I replied, and Snap, as I afterwards christened
+her, drove back with me, sitting up proudly by my side.</p>
+
+<p>"The next day I went out for a long ride. Without any encouragement on
+my part, the little terrier insisted upon following my horse. I think we
+must have gone over a distance of some twenty-four miles, through woods,
+over fields, and along the high-roads, but never once had I to call or
+whistle to bring her to my side. My little friend was always just behind
+me.</p>
+
+<p>"'She be determined to earn herself a good home,' said our old coachman,
+when I returned in the afternoon and he saw the little dog still
+following faithfully behind me. I asked him to catch and feed her, but
+Snap would not trust herself to his care. She showed her teeth and
+growled furiously when he approached her.</p>
+
+<p>"'More temper than dawg,' murmured our old retainer as he relinquished
+his pursuit of her. 'Cum, lassie, I'll do thee no harm;' but the terrier
+was not to be caught by his blandishments, and I had to catch her myself
+and feed her. To me she came at once, looking at me with her earnest,
+wistful eyes, and placing complete trust in me immediately.</p>
+
+<p>"One of my friends says, 'Snap is redeemed by her many vices.' What made
+her confidence in me from the very first most remarkable was her general
+dislike <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>to all strangers. She hates nearly every one. 'Snap spakes to
+us all about place,' is said of her by our old gardener.</p>
+
+<p>"Obviously, I am sorry to say, her former master must have been opposed
+to law and order, for of all human beings she most hates policemen!</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Only Just in Time!</div>
+
+<p>"She also entertains a strong dislike to ministers of all denominations.
+Last year when a high dignitary of the Church came to call upon me,
+imagine my dismay when I saw during our interview Snap, with evil
+designs, crawling under the furniture to nip his lordship's legs. I was
+only just in time to prevent the catastrophe!</p>
+
+<p>"The 'nasty sneak,' as my nephew Harry called her when he heard the
+story, was almost able before I could stop her to fulfil her wicked
+intentions. Happily, his lordship was unconscious of her inhospitable
+purpose, and when I caught her up only said: 'Poor little dog! don't
+trouble, Mrs. Hamilton, I am not at all nervous about dogs.'</p>
+
+<p>"Another time I remember taking Snap to a meeting got up to further the
+interests of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.</p>
+
+<p>"All went well till a clergyman rose and addressed the meeting, when
+Snap jumped up also, barking ferociously, and tried to bite him. She was
+carried out struggling and yelping with rage.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yon tyke can't do with a parson,' is the dictum of the villagers when
+they see her go by with me. Snap is very faithful, very crotchety,
+distrusting nearly everybody, greeting every fresh acquaintance with
+marked suspicion, and going through life with a most exalted and
+ridiculous notion of her own importance, and also of that of her master
+and mistress."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"Snap's dislike to the clergy reminds me," said Colonel Hamilton, "of a
+story I heard the other day from my friend Gordon, the artist: You must
+know that last year the county gave old Vaughan of Marshford Grange, for
+his services as M.F.H., a testimonial.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> 'Old V.,' as he is known, has
+the hereditary temper of all the Vaughans&mdash;in fact, might vie with 'Our
+Davey' of Indian fame. Gordon, as you know, was selected by the Hunt
+Committee to paint the picture, and he went to stay at the Grange.</p>
+
+<p>"The day after his arrival he went down to breakfast, but found nobody
+there but the old squire seated at his table, and by him a favourite
+large lean white bull terrier.</p>
+
+<p>"'Bob,' he declared, looked at him out of the corner of his evil eye,
+and therefore it was with some trepidation that he approached the table.</p>
+
+<p>"'Swear, man, swear, or say something that he'll take for swearing,'
+exclaimed his host. 'If Bob takes you for a parson he'll bite you.' The
+explanation of this supposed hostility on Bob's part to the clergy
+consisted in the known and open warfare that existed between Vaughan and
+his parson.</p>
+
+<p>"Some forty years before, the Squire had given his best living to his
+best college friend, and ever since there had been internecine war as a
+consequence.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Gordon was that curious anomaly, an artist combined with the pink
+of spinsterly propriety; and he could see no humour in the incident, but
+always declared that he felt nervous during his visit at the Grange lest
+Bob's punishing jaws should mistake his antecedents and profession.</p>
+
+<p>"But now, Lady Constance, it is your turn, as the children say."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"I have a very clever old dog at home," said Lady Constance, turning to
+the children, "called 'Sloe.' She was, in her youth and prime, a most
+valuable retriever, but now is grown too old to do much but sleep in the
+sunshine. Eddie and Molly were given some time ago two pretty young
+white rabbits. They looked like balls of white fluff, and were the
+prettiest toy-like pets you can imagine. One night, unfortunately, they
+escaped from their protecting hutch.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Sloe is one of those dogs that cannot resist temptation, and although
+she has often been whipped and scolded for massacring rabbits, never
+listens to the voice of conscience. In fact, she hardly seems as if she
+could help doing so, and appears to think, like the naughty boy of the
+story, that, in spite of the beating, the fun was too great to forgo.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Sloe and Duchess</div>
+
+<p>"Sloe is always loose, but has a kennel to sleep in at nights in the
+stable-yard. Opposite to her kennel is chained another dog&mdash;a
+retriever&mdash;'Duchess' by name, a lovely dog of a soft flaxen colour. This
+dog on this occasion, it so happened, had not yet been unchained.</p>
+
+<p>"Sloe disappeared amongst the shrubberies, and found there her innocent
+victims. The poor little things were soon caught, and breathed their
+last in her ferocious jaws. When Sloe had killed them she did not care
+to eat them, and, strange to say, she determined not to bury them, but
+resolved that it should appear that the murder had been committed by her
+companion, and that Duchess should bear the blame.</p>
+
+<p>"It is said that she is jealous of her companion sharing the favour of
+her master, and so decided upon doing her a bad turn.</p>
+
+<p>"Prompted probably by this evil thought, she carried her victims one
+after the other into Duchess's kennel and left them there. The coachman,
+who was up betimes cleaning his harness, saw her do this. After which
+the old sly-boots retired to her own lair and went to sleep as if
+nothing had happened."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"Did you ever owe your life to a dog?" inquired Colonel Hamilton,
+turning to Lady Constance.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I did once," was her reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Some years ago I was given a large dog&mdash;half bloodhound and half
+mastiff. To women and children he was very gentle, but he had an
+inveterate dislike to all men. There was nothing he would not allow a
+baby to do to him. It might claw his eyes, sit on his back, tap his
+nose, scream in his ears, and pull his hair; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>and 'George,' for such was
+his name, would sit and look at me with a sort of broad good-natured
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>"One year we all went up to a shooting-lodge in Perthshire. In the
+paddock before the house there was a bull. I complained of our
+neighbour, for I thought he had an evil eye, and might some day do the
+children some mischief.</p>
+
+<p>"Our landlord, however, would not listen to my complaints.</p>
+
+<p>"'Dinna ye fash yersel,' Geordie,' he said to his herdsman, 'or take
+notice of what the women-folk say. It is a douce baistie, and he'll nae
+harm bairns nor doggies.'</p>
+
+<p>"In spite of this, one afternoon I had occasion to cross the meadow,
+when suddenly I turned round and saw the bull running behind me. He
+bellowed fiercely as he advanced.</p>
+
+<p>"Happily, when he charged I was able to spring aside, and so he passed
+me. But I saw that the wall at the end of the field was several hundreds
+yards off, and I felt, if the bull turned again to pursue me, my life
+would not be worth much.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I saw my faithful George standing sullenly beside me, all his
+'hackles' up, and waiting for the enemy with an ominous growl.</p>
+
+<p>"The bull again turned, but my dog met him, and something of the
+inherited mastiff love of feats in the bull-ring must have awoke within
+him, for when the bull came after me the old dog flew at his nose,
+courageously worried him, and fairly ended by routing him. In the
+meantime I slipped over the loose stone wall, and ran and opened the
+gate at the bottom of the field, through which trotted a few minutes
+later my protector.</p>
+
+<p>"I told my story when I returned to the house, and the keeper promised
+me that he would speak to the bailiff at our landlord's farm and have
+the bull taken away on the following day.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, the grass of the paddock being particularly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>tender and sweet, it
+was the custom for the 'hill ponies' to graze at night in company with
+the cows and the bull. The horses and cattle had hitherto done so,
+without causing any damage to each other; but the morning after my
+adventure one of the ponies was found gored to death, and an old
+cart-mare who had been running there with a foal was discovered to be so
+terribly injured that she had to be shot. It was noticed that the bull's
+horns were crimson with blood, so there could be no doubt who was the
+delinquent.</p>
+
+<p>"'The more you know of a bull, the less faith you can put in one,' said
+our old cowherd to me one day when I recounted to him in Yorkshire my
+escape; 'and, saving your ladyship's presence,' he added, 'bulls are as
+given to tantrums as young females.'</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">George's Tricks</div>
+
+<p>"When George was young we tried to teach him some tricks," continued
+Lady Constance, "but, like a village boy, he 'was hard to learn;' and
+the only accomplishment he ever acquired was, during meals, to stand up
+and plant his front paws upon our shoulders, look over into our plates,
+and receive as a reward some tit-bit. Sometimes he would do this without
+any warning, and he seemed to derive a malicious pleasure in performing
+these antics upon the shoulders of some nervous lady, or upon some guest
+who did not share with us our canine love."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>It had now come to my turn to contribute a story, and in answer to the
+children's appeal I told them that I would tell them all that I could
+remember of my old favourite mastiff, "Rory Bean," so-called after the
+Laird of Dumbiedike's pony in the "Heart of Midlothian."</p>
+
+<p>"Rory was a very large fawn mastiff, with the orthodox black mask. I
+remember my little girl, when she was younger, having once been told
+that she must not go downstairs to her godmamma with a dirty face,
+resolved that if this was the case Rory must have a clean face too.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"So the next day, on entering the nursery, I found she had got some soap
+and water in a basin, and beside her I saw the great kindly beast,
+sitting up on her haunches, patiently waiting whilst her face was being
+washed; but in spite of all the child's efforts the nose remained as
+black as ever. My little girl's verdict, 'that mastiffs is the best
+nursery dogs,' was for a long time a joke amongst our friends.</p>
+
+<p>"For several years we took Rory up to London, but her stay there was
+always rather a sad one, for when out walking the crossings in the
+streets were a great source of terror to her. No maiden-aunt could have
+been more timid. She would never go over by herself, but would either
+bound forward violently or else hang back, and nearly pull over her
+guide. She had also a spinsterly objection to hansoms, and never would
+consent to be driven in one. On the other hand, she delighted in a drive
+in a 'growler,' and, if the driver were cleaning out his carriage, would
+often jump in and refuse to be taken out.</p>
+
+<p>"When Rory followed us in London she had a foolish habit of wishing to
+seem independent of all restraint, and of desiring to appear 'a
+gentleman at large.'</p>
+
+<p>"On one unfortunate occasion, whilst indulging in this propensity, she
+was knocked over by a hansom&mdash;not badly hurt, but terribly overcome by a
+sense of the wickedness of the world, where such things could be
+possible.</p>
+
+<p>"The accident happened in Dover Street. Rory had strayed into the gutter
+after some tempting morsel she had espied there, and a dashing hansom
+had bowled her over. She lay yelping and howling and pitying herself
+intensely. My companion and I succeeded in dragging her into a baker's
+shop, where she was shown every kindness and consideration, and then we
+drove home in a four-wheeler. Rory was not much hurt, but for many days
+could hardly be induced to walk in the streets again. She seemed to be
+permeated with a sense of the instability and uncertainty of all things,
+and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>never appeared able to recover from her surprise that she, 'Rory
+Bean,' a mastiff of most ancient lineage and of the bluest blood, should
+not be able to walk about in safety wherever she pleased&mdash;even in the
+streets of the metropolis.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Lost in London</div>
+
+<p>"I recollect we once lost her in London. She made her escape out of the
+house whilst we had gone for a ride in the park. When we returned from
+our ride, instead of hearing her joyous bark of welcome, and seeing her
+flop down in her excitement the last four steps of the staircase, as was
+her wont, we were met instead by the anxious face of the butler, who
+told us Rory had run out and could not be found.</p>
+
+<p>"Fortunately, we were not dining out that night, and so, as quickly as
+possible, we sallied forth in different directions to find her. The
+police were communicated with, and a letter duly written to the manager
+of the Dogs' Home at Battersea, whilst my husband and I spent the
+evening in wandering from police-station to police-station, giving
+descriptions of the missing favourite.</p>
+
+<p>"Large fawn mastiff, answers to the name of 'Rory Bean,' black face and
+perfectly gentle. I got quite wearied out in giving over and over again
+the same account. However, to cut a long story short, she was at last
+discovered by the butler, who heard her frantic baying a mile off in the
+centre of Hyde Park, and brought her back, and so ended Rory Bean's last
+season in London.</p>
+
+<p>"A few days before this escapade I took out Rory in one of the few
+squares where dogs are still allowed to accompany their masters. Bean
+had a na&iuml;ve way, when bored, of inviting you or any casual passer-by
+that she might chance to see, to a good game of romps with her. Her
+method was very simple. She would run round barking, but her voice was
+very deep, as of a voice in some subterranean cavern; and with strangers
+this did not invariably awaken on their side a joyous reciprocity.
+Somehow, big dogs always ignore their size.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"They have a confirmed habit of creeping under tiny tables, and hanker
+after squeezing themselves through impossible gaps. Being, as a rule,
+quite innocent of all desire to injure any member of the human race,
+they cannot realise that it is possible that they in their turn can
+frighten anybody.</p>
+
+<p>"I remember on this particular occasion that I was interested in my
+book, and that when Rory had barked round me I had refused to play with
+her. For some time she had lain down quietly beside me, when suddenly an
+old gentleman came into view. He held in his hand a stick, with which he
+meditatively struck the pebbles of the pathway as he walked along.</p>
+
+<p>"At the sight of him Rory jumped up. She could not resist this
+particular action on his part, which she considered a special invitation
+to come and join in a good romp. To my consternation, before I could
+prevent her, I saw her barking and jumping round the poor frightened old
+gentleman, in good-natured but ominous-looking play.</p>
+
+<p>"Seeing that he was really alarmed, I rushed off to his rescue, seized
+my dog and apologised. Wishing at the same time to say something that
+might somewhat condone her conduct, I said: 'I am very sorry, sir, but
+you see she is only a puppy,' and pointed to Rory.</p>
+
+<p>"This was not quite a correct statement, as my four-footed friend was at
+that time about two years old, and measured nearly thirty inches from
+the shoulder, but, as the old man seemed really frightened and muttered
+two ugly words in connection with each other, 'Hydrophobia' and
+'Police,' I was determined to do all I could to reassure him and smooth
+down his ruffled plumes.</p>
+
+<p>"However, my elderly acquaintance would not be comforted, and I heard
+him muttering to himself as he retired from the square, 'Puppy indeed!
+Puppy indeed!'</p>
+
+<p>"Bean's death was very sad. Two years ago we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> left her in Yorkshire
+whilst we went to London. We heard of her continually whilst we were
+away, and she seemed very flourishing although growing old, till one day
+I got a letter to say that the old dog was suddenly taken very ill and
+could hardly move. The servants had taken her to a loose box, given her
+a good clean bed of straw, and were feeding her with such delicacies as
+she could be prevailed upon to take.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Rory's Last Welcome</div>
+
+<p>"I had a sad journey home, thinking of the sufferings of my trusty old
+friend. I shall never forget her joy at seeing me once more. The poor
+faithful creature could not walk, but crawled along upon her stomach to
+meet me when I entered the loose box, filling the place with her cries
+of joy. She covered my hands with kisses, and then laid her head upon my
+knees whilst I sat down beside her. She whined with a sort of
+half-sorrow, half-pleasure&mdash;the first that she could not get up and show
+me round the gardens as was her wont, the second that she was happy to
+be thus resting in the presence of her beloved mistress. Around her lay
+a variety of choice foods and tit-bits, but she was in too great pain to
+feed except from my hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor dear Bean! she looked at me out of her great solemn eyes. Those
+dear loving eyes; with only one expression shining in them&mdash;a daily,
+hourly love&mdash;a love in spite of all things&mdash;a love invincible.</p>
+
+<p>"During those last few days of her life Rory could not bear to be left
+alone. Her eyes followed me tenderly round and round the stables
+wherever I went. Although constantly in great pain, I shall never forget
+her patience and her pathetic conviction that I could always do her some
+good, and she believed in the miracle which I, alas! had no power to
+perform. The veterinary surgeon who attended her said she was suffering
+from sudden paralysis of the spine, and that she was incurable. This
+disease, it appears, is not very rare amongst old dogs who have lived,
+not always wisely, but too well."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do tell us about some other dogs," cry the children as I cease
+speaking. I search my memory, and then turn to the group of little faces
+that are waiting expectantly for me to begin, and continue:</p>
+
+<p>"Amongst the various breeds of dogs that I have come across personally,
+I know of none more faithful than the little fox-terrier is to his first
+devotion. He is a perfect little bantam-cock to fight, and never so
+happy as when he is in a row. 'The most unredeemed thing in nature,' was
+a true remark I once heard made of one; and yet there is no dog more
+devoted to his master, or more gentle to the children of his own
+household.</p>
+
+<p>"I remember a little white terrier of my mother's, a celebrated
+prize-winner, and of the old Eggesford breed, called 'Spite.' Before I
+married she was my special dog, and used to sleep in my room. For years
+afterwards, although a general pet, whenever I returned to my old home
+she would prefer me to every one else, and, when old and blind, would
+toddle up the polished oak staircase to my room, in spite of being
+terribly afraid of slipping through the carved bannisters. She never
+forgot me or wavered when I was with her in giving me the first place in
+her affections.</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard that the first of this noted strain was given many years
+ago to my father as a boy by 'Parson Jack.' It seems that the terriers
+of Parson Russell were noted in the days when the manners and customs of
+the parsons of the West were 'wild and furious.'</p>
+
+<p>"A parson of the 'Parson Froude' type called upon him one evening in the
+dusk, to say that he had brought his terrier to fight 'Parson Jack's' in
+a match.</p>
+
+<p>"My father's old friend, as I have often heard him tell the story to my
+mother, sent down word that he would not fight his dog because he
+'looked upon dog-fights as beastly sights,' but if his brother clergyman
+would come upstairs, they would clear the tables, and he would take his
+jacket off, and they would have some rounds, and see which was the best
+man, and he who won should keep the other's dog.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Parson Jack"</div>
+
+<p>"When the fight was fought and won, and when 'Parson Jack' came off
+victorious, he claimed the other terrier.</p>
+
+<p>"'And don't yu goe for to think, my dear,' he would add, turning to one
+of us children, as he ended the story, and speaking in broad Devonshire,
+as he often did when his heart kindled at the memory of the county in
+the old days&mdash;'don't yu goe for tu think as my having a set-tu zhocked
+the people in my parish. My vulk were only plazed to think as parsan was
+the best man of the tu, and if a parsan could stand up like a man in a
+round in they days, er was all the more likely to zuit 'em in the pulpit
+on Zundays.'</p>
+
+<p>"Once every year 'Parson Jack' used to come and dine and sleep at my old
+home to keep his birthday, in company with my father and mother. At such
+times we as children used to come down to dessert to hear him tell
+stories in his racy way of Katerfelto, of long gallops over Exmoor after
+the stag, or of hard runs after the little 'red rover' with Mr.
+Fellowes' hounds."</p>
+
+<p>"What dogs have you now?" inquired Mrs. Hamilton.</p>
+
+<p>"Amongst others, a large St. Bernard," is my reply&mdash;"Bathsheba, so
+called after Mr. Hardy's heroine. Not that she has any of that young
+lady's delicate changes and complications of character, nor is she even
+'almighty womanish.'</p>
+
+<p>"Our Bathsheba is of an inexhaustible good temper, stupid, and
+wonderfully stolid and gentle. She is never crusty, and is the untiring
+playmate of any child. The 'Lubber fiend' we call her sometimes in fun,
+for she seems to extend over acres of carpet when she takes a siesta in
+the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>'Has she a soul?' inquired a friend who admired the great gentle
+creature. 'I fear not,' was my reply; 'only a stomach.'</p>
+
+<p>"Besides Bathsheba, we have a large retriever called 'Frolic.' He and
+Bath are given sometimes to running after people who go to the back
+door; they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>never bite, but growl, and bark if it is a complete
+stranger.</p>
+
+<p>"On one occasion, an Irishman who had been employed to do some draining
+met with this hostile reception. ''Tis gude house-dogs,' said my
+guardian of the poultry grimly.</p>
+
+<p>"On hearing that the Irishman had been frightened, I sought him,
+expressed to him my regrets, and said that, though big, the dogs were
+quite harmless. With ready wit he retorted: 'Begorra, it isn't dogs that
+I am afraid of, but your ladyship keeps lions.'"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"Just one more story," cry the children as I cease speaking, and Mrs.
+Hamilton points to the clock, as their bedtime is long past. After a few
+minutes' pause, I continue:</p>
+
+<p>"The other day I was told of a little girl who attended a distribution
+of prizes given by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.</p>
+
+<p>"She had won, you must know, a book as a reward for writing the best
+essay on the subject given, and, with the other successful children, was
+undergoing a <i>viv&acirc; voce</i> examination.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, my dear,' said the gentleman who had given away the prizes, 'can
+you tell me why it is cruel to dock horses' tails and trim dogs' ears?'
+'Because,' answered the little girl, 'what God has joined together let
+no man put asunder.'"</p>
+
+<p>An explosion of childish laughter follows my story, and then the little
+ones troop up in silence to bed. I sit on, quietly looking into the
+fire, and as I sit so the voices of my friends seem to grow distant, and
+I fall into a reverie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Daft Bess</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Kate Burnley Belt</span></h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Cornish story of a girl's sorrow.</div>
+
+<p>Up and down the little pier they paced in quarter-deck fashion, each
+with his hands tucked deep down in the pockets of his sea-blanket coat,
+and his oilskin cap pulled well over his ears.</p>
+
+<p>They were very silent in their walk, these three old men, who had
+watched the breakers come and go at Trewithen for over sixty years, and
+handled the ropes when danger threatened. Trewithen Cove had sheltered
+many a storm-driven ship within their memories, and there were
+grave-mounds in the churchyard on the cliff still unclaimed and unknown
+that had been built up by their hands.</p>
+
+<p>Up and down, to and fro they went in the face of the flying spray, in
+spite of the deepening mist that was creeping up over the darkening sea.</p>
+
+<p>Benjamin Blake&mdash;once the handiest craftsman in the cove&mdash;was the first
+to break the silence.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis a sa-ad night at sea, mates!" he shouted, and the roar of the
+waves nearly drowned the sound of his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Iss, tu be zure, Benjamin Blake!" shouted Tom Pemberthy in answer, "an'
+'twill be a ba-ad job fer more'n wan boat, I reckin, 'gainst marnin'!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then Joe Clatworthy, whose opinions were valued highly in the settlement
+of all village disputes, so that he had earned for himself the nickname
+of "Clacking Joe," stood still as they once more turned their backs on
+the threatening sea, and said his say.</p>
+
+<p>"A tell ee wot 'twill be, mates," he said solemnly and slowly. "You mark
+my wurrds ef it dawn't cum truthy too,&mdash;there'll be terble loss uv
+li-ife out there tu-night," and he waved his hand towards the blackening
+sea, "an' us'll hev tu dig a fuu more graves, I reckin', cum marnin'!"</p>
+
+<p>"The Lard hev murcy!" said Benjamin Blake, and the three resumed their
+walk again.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour afterwards they were making their way along the one little
+street of which Trewithen boasted to their homes; for a storm&mdash;the
+roughest they had known for years&mdash;had burst overhead, and a man's life
+is a frail thing in the teeth of a gale.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>At the top of the cliff and beyond Trewithen churchyard by the length of
+a field there stood a tiny cottage, in which lived Jacob Tresidder,
+fisherman, and his daughter Bess.</p>
+
+<p>"Daft Bess" the children called her as they played with her on the
+sands, though she was a woman grown, and had hair that was streaked with
+white.</p>
+
+<p>She was sitting now by the dying fire in the little kitchen listening to
+the storm without; the hands of the grandfather clock were nearing the
+midnight hour, and Jacob Tresidder lay in a sound sleep upstairs hearing
+nought. She was of the type of fisher-maid common to the depths of
+Cornwall. The soft rich colouring of her skin reminded one more of the
+sunny south, and her big brown eyes had always a glow in them.</p>
+
+<p>To-night they were more luminous than ever as she sat by the fire
+watching the sparks flicker and die, as if the dawn of some hidden
+knowledge were being <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>borne to them on the breath of the storm. The roar
+of the sea as it dashed up the face of the cliff seemed to soothe her,
+and she would smile and turn her ear to catch the sound of its breaking
+on the beach below.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, seven years before, "Daft Bess" had been the brightest and
+prettiest girl in Trewithen, and the admiration of every lad in the
+country round! And Big Ben Martyn, who had a boat of his own, had been
+the pride of every girl! But he only cared for Bess and she for him. All
+their lives they had been together and loved,&mdash;and a simple, truthful
+love can only produce its own affinity, though in its travail it pass
+through pain and suffering, and, maybe, the laying down of life!</p>
+
+<p>Ben Martyn was twenty-five, and his own master, when he asked Bess, who
+had just turned twenty, to be his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"The cottage be waitin', Bess, my gurrl!" he whispered as they sat on
+the cliff in the summer night; she knitting as usual, and he watching
+the needles dart in and out. They were very silent in their love, these
+two, who had been lovers ever since they could paddle.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis so lawnly betimes!" he pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>And Bess set his longing heart at rest.</p>
+
+<p>"So soon as vather can spare I, Ben," she said; and she laid her
+knitting on the rock beside them, and drew his sea-tanned face close
+down beside her own. "Ee dawn't seek fer I more'n I seek fer ee, deary!"
+and kissed him.</p>
+
+<p>Thus they plighted their troth.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">One Dark Night</div>
+
+<p>Then came the winter and the hard work. And one dark stormy night, when
+the waves rose and fought till they nearly swept Trewithen out of sight,
+Ben Martyn was drowned.</p>
+
+<p>He had been trying to run his boat into the shelter of the cove and
+failed, and in the morning his battered body lay high and dry on the
+quiet beach among the wreckage.</p>
+
+<p>For weeks Bess lay in a high fever; and then, when <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>the strain was
+greater than her tortured mind could bear, and she had screamed loud and
+long, something snapped in her brain and gave relief. But it left her
+without a memory, and with the ways and speech of a little child.</p>
+
+<p>Her mind was a blank! She played with the seaweed and smiled, till the
+women's hearts were like to break for her, and the words stuck in the
+men's throats as they looked at her and talked.</p>
+
+<p>"She be mazed, poor maid!" they said gently lest she should hear them.
+"'Twould break Ben's heart ef ee knawed 'ur was so!"</p>
+
+<div><a name="rock" id="rock"></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 242px;">
+<img src="images/12.jpg" width="242" height="400" alt="THE ROCK SHE CLUNG TO GAVE WAY." title="THE ROCK SHE CLUNG TO GAVE WAY." />
+<span class="caption">THE ROCK SHE CLUNG TO GAVE WAY.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>That was seven long years ago. And to-night Bess seemed loth to leave
+the fire, but sat hugging her knees in a restless fashion, and staring
+at the blackening embers in a puzzled way. A tremendous blast struck the
+cottage, and nearly shook the kitchen window out of its fastenings. The
+wind came shrieking through the holes in the shutter like a revengeful
+demon, and retreated again with a melancholy groan.</p>
+
+<p>It pleased Bess, and she hugged her knees the tighter, and turned her
+head and waited for the next loud roar. It came, and then another, and
+another, till it seemed almost impossible for the little cottage to hold
+out against its fury!</p>
+
+<p>Then "Daft Bess" sprang from her seat with a cry of gladness, and ran
+out into the night!</p>
+
+<p>Along the path of the cliff she ran as fast as her bare feet would carry
+her, struggling and buffeting with the wind and spray till she reached
+the "cutting" down to the beach.</p>
+
+<p>It was only a broken track where the rocks sloped and jagged a little,
+and not too safe at the best of times. She tried to get a foothold, but
+the wind was too strong, and she was driven back again and again. Then
+it lulled a little, and she began to descend.</p>
+
+<p>Half-way down there was an ugly turn in the path, and she waited for a
+gust to pass before taking it. The wind was stronger than ever out here
+on the front of the cliff, but she held tight to the jagged rock
+above.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Round it swept, tearing loose bits of rock and soil from every corner,
+till her face was cut by the sharpness of the flints!</p>
+
+
+<p>Close against the cliff it blew until she was almost breathless, when
+the rock she clung to gave way, and she fell down and down!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Jacob Tressider was awake. He had heard a noise like the breaking of
+delf in the kitchen below, and he wondered if Bess had heard it too. He
+got out of bed and dressed himself, and then came down the ladder which
+did service for a staircase to see what was amiss. The flags in the
+kitchen were strewn with broken plates, and the front kitchen door swung
+loosely on its hinges.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">No Answer!</div>
+
+<p>He called Bess, but there was no answer! He went into her room, the bed
+was untouched since day! Then he pulled on his great sea-boots and cap
+and went out to look for her.</p>
+
+<p>The day was dawning when they brought her in and laid her on the bed of
+her little room more dead than alive. She was soaked through and
+through, and the seaweed still clung about her hair. Jacob Tresidder
+stood watching her like a man in a dream as she lay there white and
+silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Us be mighty sore fer ee, so us be!" said old Benjamin Blake, who had
+helped to bring her home. "But teddin fer yew nor I, Jacob, tu go
+fornenst His will." And he went out crying like a child.</p>
+
+<p>There was a slight movement of the quiet figure on the coverlid, and
+Jacob Tresidder's heart stopped beating for a moment as he watched his
+daughter's brown eyes open once more! They wandered wonderingly to where
+he was, and rested there, and a faint smile crossed the dying lips.</p>
+
+<p>Then he bowed his head between his hands as he knelt beside her, for he
+knew that God had given her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>back her memory again; and his sobs were
+the sobs of a thankful heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Vather!" she whispered, and with an effort she stretched the hand
+nearest to him and touched his sleeve. "'Tis&mdash;all right&mdash;now&mdash;I be
+gwine&mdash;tu&mdash;Ben."</p>
+
+<p>The dying eyes glowed with love; then with a restful sigh the life
+passed out.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>They had battened down the last spadeful of new-dug earth, and once
+again there was a storm-bred mound in Trewithen churchyard.</p>
+
+<p>The three old comrades stood together in silence looking down on it,
+making little or no attempt to hide the sorrow that was theirs.</p>
+
+<p>Then Tom Pemberthy said, drawing his hand across his tear-dimmed eyes:
+"Us'll miss ur simple wa-ays, sure 'nuff!"</p>
+
+<p>But it was given to "Clacking Joe" to speak the final words ere they
+turned their faces homewards.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twas awnly right that we laid ur 'longside o' Ben! When ur was a
+little chile ur shrimped with 'n! an' when ur was a gert maiden ur
+walked out with 'n! Please God, ur'll be the furrst tu spake tu 'n&mdash;cum
+the aftermath!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="sidenote">A seasonable chant, possibly useful for recitation purposes.</div>
+
+<h2>A Spring-time Duet</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Mary Leslie</span></h3>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Spring Cleaning">
+<tr><td align='left'><div><a name="spring" id="spring"></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 236px;">
+<img src="images/13.jpg" width="236" height="400" alt="SPRING CLEANING." title="SPRING CLEANING." />
+<span class="caption">SPRING CLEANING.</span>
+</div></td><td align='left'><i>1st Maiden.</i> "Oh, Spring is here, the golden sun<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Has routed Winter's gloom!"</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>2nd Maiden.</i> "Good gracious! Jane has not <i>begun</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">To scrub the dining-room!"</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>1st Maiden.</i> "And now the first sweet buds appear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Symbolic of new hope."</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>2nd Maiden.</i> "I didn't say 'carbolic,' dear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">I want the <i>yellow</i> soap."</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>1st Maiden.</i> "Like nectar is the morning dew,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Its purity divine</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Refreshes all the earth anew."</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>2nd Maiden.</i> "Ah! here's the turpentine."<br />
+<br />
+<i>1st Maiden.</i> "And crystal webs shine bright, as though<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Spun on some fairy loom."</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>2nd Maiden.</i> "A spider's web? I didn't know;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">I'll run and fetch the broom!"</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>1st Maiden.</i> "Blooms Nature scatters, fresh and free,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">From out her treasure-house."</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>2nd Maiden.</i> "I'll dust this cupboard thoroughly."<br />
+<br />
+<i>Both together.</i> <span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Oh, horrors! There's a <i>mouse!</i>"</span><br /></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+<p>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Out of Deadly Peril</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">K. Balfour Murphy</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Canadian boy and girl together were at one moment as happy
+as youth and health could make them, and at the next in imminent danger
+of their lives.</div>
+
+<p>What on earth had happened to Gladys Merritt?</p>
+
+<p>In the course of a few short weeks the girl was transformed from the
+merriest, most light-hearted creature into one often thoughtful, silent,
+and serious. The question then was, Why had she suddenly changed
+completely? Many guessed, but only two knew the real reason.</p>
+
+<p>Barrie, where Judge Merritt lived, lies at the head of lovely little
+Lake Simcoe, in Western Ontario, Canada. In summer the lake is blue as
+the heavens above, the borders of it are fringed with larch and maple
+that grow right down to the rippling edge and bow to their own
+reflections in the clear waters beneath, while on its glassy surface can
+be seen daily numbers of boats and launches, the whole scene animated by
+merry voices of happy folks, with picnic baskets, bound for the woods,
+or others merely seeking relief from the intense heat on shore. Work is
+finished early in the day in the Colonies, and when school is over and
+the scorching sun begins slowly to sink to rest, social life begins.</p>
+
+<p>But in Canada winter is long and extremely cold.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> With the fall of the
+beautiful tinted leaves that have changed from green to wonderful shades
+of red, purple, and yellow, Canadians know that summer is gone and that
+frost and snow may come any day, and once come will stay, though an
+unwelcome guest, for at least seven or eight months.</p>
+
+<p>Now the young folks in Barrie relished this long spell of cold&mdash;to them
+no part of the year was quite so delightful as winter. What could
+compare with a long sleigh drive over firm thick snow, tucked in with
+soft warm furs and muffled up to the eyes&mdash;or tobogganing in the
+moonlight down a long hill&mdash;or skimming over clear, smooth ice&mdash;or
+candy-making parties&mdash;or dances, or a dozen other delights? What indeed?
+On every occasion Gladys seemed to be the centre figure; she was the
+life and soul of every party.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The "Bunch"</div>
+
+<p>She was an only child of wealthy parents. Her home was beautiful, her
+father indulgent, her mother like a sister to her; she was a favourite
+everywhere, loved alike by rich and poor. Together with two intimate
+friends and schoolfellows, the girls were commonly known as the "Buds,"
+and they, with half a dozen boys, were called the "Bunch" throughout the
+town. They admitted no outsider to their circle. They danced together at
+parties, boated, picniced, skated, sometimes worked together. There was
+an invisible bond that drew the group near each other, a feeling of
+sympathy and good fellowship, for the "Bunch" was simply a
+whole-hearted, happy crowd of boys and girls about sixteen to nineteen
+years of age.</p>
+
+<p>Winter was at its height. Christmas with all its joys was past, church
+decorations had surpassed the usual standard of beauty, holidays were in
+full swing, and the "Buds" were in great demand. The cold had for five
+weeks been intense, and the barometer on the last day of January sank to
+fifteen below zero. Snow had fallen but little, and the ring of merry,
+tinkling sleigh bells was almost an unknown sound. Toboggan<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>ing of
+course was impossible. But as Gladys philosophically remarked one day,
+"Where could you find such skating as in Barrie?"</p>
+
+<p>Great excitement prevailed when the moon was full, for the lake, some
+nine miles in length, was frozen from end to end, with an average
+thickness of three feet, and to the delight of skaters, was entirely
+snow free. Of course parties were the order of the day. Such a chance to
+command a magnificent icefield might not occur again for a long, long
+time.</p>
+
+<p>The "Bunch" instantly decided on a party of their own, and chose a
+glorious night for the expedition. It consisted of the "Buds" and three
+boys. For some time all went well, but Gladys's skate needed tightening,
+and before it was satisfactorily done, the other four were far away, and
+Harry Elliott was left as sole protector to the girl.</p>
+
+<p>Their conversation was mainly about school concerns. The boy was in a
+bank, the girl in her last term at the High School.</p>
+
+<p>"If only I could work at something after I'm finished! What shall I do
+with my life when I have no more lessons? I think everybody should do
+something; I shall soon be tired of lazing through the days."</p>
+
+<p>"Your pater would never let you do anything for money, he is so rich."</p>
+
+<p>"But simply to have a lot of money won't satisfy me, although I'd like
+to earn some. To be a teacher would suit me best, and keep my mind from
+rusting."</p>
+
+<p>"You are awfully clever, you know. I never cared for books and never
+worked till one day&mdash;a day I shall never forget."</p>
+
+<p>"What was it about, Harry? Tell me."</p>
+
+<p>The two had chattered about their own concerns without noticing that the
+rest of the "Bunch" had kept to the left side of the lake while they had
+skated straight forward ignoring the deep bay, and were now nearing the
+right shore. The ice was smooth as glass, each was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>an accomplished
+skater, and together they had made a brilliant run without a pause after
+the tightening of the screw. Now, hot and breathless, they paused for a
+few moments, and only then realised that they were about three miles
+distant from the rest of the party. Harry drew off his thick woollen
+mittens and unloosened his muffler, as together they stood looking at
+the glistening landscape around them.</p>
+
+<p>"I think we ought to turn; we are a long way from home."</p>
+
+<p>"Just let us touch shore first and get to the 'Black Stone'; that would
+be a record spin."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, then, come along, and tell me what happened that day. You
+know."</p>
+
+<p>Hand-in-hand the two started off once more in the direction of the
+"Black Stone." Far and wide there was not a human being visible. Not a
+sound except the swish, swish of their skates and their own voices fell
+on the clear, still air of the glorious night.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Harry's Story</div>
+
+<p>"I never was clever," began Harry, "and am not now. I used to be quite
+satisfied that kings and other celebrated people really had lived and
+died without learning a whole rigmarole about their lives. Really it did
+not interest me a bit. Geography was the same, composition was worse,
+mathematics was worst. I seemed always to be in hot water at school.
+Then one day the old man (we always called Jackson Spencer that) said
+after class was over&mdash;and of course I hadn't answered once&mdash;'Elliott, go
+to my room and wait for me.' I tell you, Gladys, I shivered; I didn't
+know what I was in for. Old man walked right in and shut the door, after
+having left me alone about ten minutes, and just said, 'Come and sit
+down, boy, I want to say something to you.' You could have knocked me
+over I was so surprised. He then said: 'Look here, Elliott, you are not
+a bad chap, but do you know that you are as blind as an owl?' I rubbed
+my eyes and said, 'No, sir, I can see all right.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You must be very short-sighted, then.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Of course I said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"'Did you ever think why your father sent you to school?'</p>
+
+<p>"'No-o, sir.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I thought so, but I'm going to tell you. He is not a rich man, Harry,
+but he pays me to teach you all that will help you to rise above the
+level of an ignorant labourer. Culture and education are as necessary to
+a gentleman as bread is for food. I am doing my utmost, but I cannot
+pour instruction down your throat any more than you can make a horse
+drink by leading him to the trough. Now look here, boy, with all your
+faults you are no coward; haven't you the pluck to get to know yourself
+and stop being a shirker? Think what that means! A fellow never to be
+trusted, a lazy, good-for-nothing, cowardly loafer. Remember, if you
+don't work, you are taking your father's money under false pretences,
+which is only another word for dishonesty. Think about what I've said;
+turn over a page and start a new chapter. You can go, and mind&mdash;I trust
+you.'"</p>
+
+<p>"What a splendid old boy!" exclaimed Gladys. "What did you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do! I worked like a beaver for the balance of school life, I'd so much
+to make good. We shall touch the 'Stone' in a couple of&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The sentence was never finished, for without warning, out of sight of a
+helping hand, Gladys and Harry skated right through a large hole, left
+by an ice-cutter without being marked by boughs, into ten feet of
+freezing water.</p>
+
+<p>The shock was tremendous, but being fine swimmers they naturally struck
+out, trying to grasp the slippery ice.</p>
+
+<p>To his horror Harry knew that his gloves were in his pocket, and now,
+try as he would, his hands would not grip the ice. Gladys had been
+entrusted to his care: not only would his life be the price of having
+separated from the "Bunch," but infinitely worse, she must share the
+same fate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Despair lent him strength to support the girl with his left arm while he
+tried to swing his right leg over and dig the heel of his skate into the
+ice.</p>
+
+<p>But all in vain, he tried and tried again. Numbed with cold, he felt
+himself growing weaker and he knew that the end could not be far off
+should the next attempt fail.</p>
+
+<p>One more struggle&mdash;one last effort&mdash;and the skate, thank Heaven, had
+caught! Then came the last act. Clenching his teeth and wildly imploring
+help from on high, Harry gathered together his last remnant of strength,
+and swung the girl on to the ice&mdash;Gladys was saved!</p>
+
+<p>The boy's heart beat, his panting breath seemed to suffocate him, the
+strain had been so fearful; now he could do no more, he seemed to make
+no effort to save himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Harry! Harry!" cried Gladys; "you must try more! I'm all right and can
+help you&mdash;see, I am here close by!" she cried, frantic with terror. "It
+will be all right directly," she added bravely as she lay flat down and
+crept up to the edge of the ice.</p>
+
+<p>The boy heard her encouraging words, but still made no progress.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not doing your best, Harry! Think of me, if not of yourself.
+Remember, I am alone and so frightened. Oh! do be quick. Here, take hold
+of my hands."</p>
+
+<p>This time her words went home, and the boy, half-paralysed with cold and
+completely worn out, remembered his responsibility.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along, Harry&mdash;hold hard! Yes, I can bear the weight!" called out
+the courageous girl as she lay in her freezing garments on the ice, the
+strain of the lad's weight dragging her arms almost from their sockets.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Pluck Rewarded</div>
+
+<p>At last their pluck was rewarded. Heaven was good to them, and Harry
+Elliott, trembling in every limb, his teeth chattering, his face pale as
+the moon, stood by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> Gladys on solid ice. There was no time to waste in
+words, the boy merely stretched out his hand to the exhausted girl and
+started across the lake to the nearest house.</p>
+
+<p>Not a word was spoken; they just sped onward, at first slowly and
+laboriously, until the blood began to circulate and progress became
+easier. When they reached the shore, they stood encased in solid ice,
+their wet clothes frozen stiff by the keen frost of the glorious night.</p>
+
+<p>Not for some days did Gladys betray any signs of the mental shock she
+had received. Anxious parents and a careful doctor kept her in bed for a
+week, while Harry occupied his usual place at the bank.</p>
+
+<p>It was during that week that the change in Gladys took place. She had
+plenty of time for thought. Recollections of her nearness to death, of
+her horror while under the ice, of her terror when saved, of seeing her
+brave rescuer sink, all these scenes made a deep and lasting impression
+on her, and she realised that life can never be made up of pleasures
+only.</p>
+
+<p>When she met the rest of the "Bunch," her quietness puzzled them, her
+determination to go no more on the ice distressed them. But in her own
+heart Gladys felt that she had gained by her approach to death, for in
+the deadly struggle she had been brought near to God. As for Harry
+Elliott, need I forecast the trend of the two lives that were so nearly
+taken away together?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>The Pearl-rimmed Locket</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">M. B. Manwell</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Mike, the old Raven, is the central figure of this story for
+younger girls.</div>
+
+<p>March came in with a roar that year. The elms of Old Studley creaked and
+groaned loudly as the wild wind tossed them about like toys.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm frighted to go to bed," wailed little Jinty Ransom, burying her
+face in Mrs. Barbara's lap, when she had finished saying her prayers.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, dear, 'taint for we to be frightened at anything God sends! Do'ent
+He hold the storms in the hollow of His hand? And thou, dear maid,
+what's wind and tempest that's only 'fulfilling His word' compared wi'
+life's storms that will gather over thy sunny head one day, sure as
+sure?" Mrs. Barbara, the professor's ancient housekeeper, laid her
+knotted hand on the golden curls on her lap.</p>
+
+<p>But "thou, dear maid" could not look ahead so far. It was more than
+enough for Jinty that Nature's waves and storms were passing over her at
+the moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit beside my bed, and talk me to sleep, please, Mrs. Barbara, dear!"
+entreated the little girl, clutching tightly at the old lady's skirts.</p>
+
+<p>So Mrs. Barbara seated herself, knitting in hand, by the little white
+bed, and Jinty listened to the stories <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>she loved best of all, those of
+the days when her father was a little boy and played under the great
+elms of Old Studley with Mike, the ancient raven, that some people
+declared was a hundred years old at least. He was little more than a
+dream-father, for he had been for most of Jinty's little life away in
+far-off China in the diplomatic service. Her sweet, young, gentle mother
+Jinty did not remember at all, for she dwelt in a land that is
+far-and-away farther off than China, a land:</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Where loyal hearts and true">
+<tr><td align='left'>"Where loyal hearts and true</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Stand ever in the light,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">All rapture through and through</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">In God's most holy sight."</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>"And, really and truly, Mrs. Barbara, was it the very same Mike and not
+another raven that pecked at father's little legs same's he pecks at
+mine?" Jinty inquired sleepily.</p>
+
+<p>"The very self-same. Thief that he is and was!" wrathfully said Mrs.
+Barbara, who detested the venerable raven, a bird that gave himself the
+airs of being one of the family of Old Studley, and stirred up more
+mischief than a dozen human boys even.</p>
+
+<p>"Why," grumbled on the old lady, "there's poor Sally Bent, the henwife,
+she's driven distracted with Mike's thievish tricks. This week only he
+stole seven eggs, three on 'em turkey's eggs no less. He set himself on
+the watch, he did, and as soon as an egg was laid he nipped it up warm,
+and away with it! If 'twasn't for master's anger I'd strangle that evil
+bird, I should. Why, bless her! The little maid's asleep, she is!"</p>
+
+<p>And Mrs. Barbara crept away to see after her other helpless charge, the
+good old professor who lived so far back in the musty-fusty past that he
+would never remember to feed his body, so busy was he in feasting his
+mind on the dead languages.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning the tearing winds had departed, the stately elms were
+motionless at rest, and the sun beat <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>down with a fierce radiance, upon
+the red brick walls of Old Studley.</p>
+
+<p>Jinty Ransom leaned out of her latticed window and smiled contentedly
+back at the genial sun.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, thou maid, come down and count over the crocus flowers!" called up
+Mrs. Barbara from the green lawn below. "I fear me that thief Mike has
+nipped off the heads of a few dozens, out o' pure wicked mischief."</p>
+
+<p>Presently Jinty was flashing like a sunbeam in and out of the old house.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go round and scold Mike, then I'll come, back for breakfast,
+Mrs. Barbara. Grandpapa's not down yet."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Mike on the War-path</div>
+
+<p>But scolding's a game two can play at. Mike charged at Jinty with a
+volley of angry chatter and fierce flappings of his heavy black wings.
+It was no good trying to get in a word about the headless crocus plants
+or the seven stolen eggs.</p>
+
+<p>"Anybody would think that I was the thief who stole them, not you!"
+indignantly said Jinty. Then Mike craned suddenly forward to give the
+straight little legs a wicked nip, and Jinty fled with shrieks, to the
+proud ecstasy of the raven, who "hirpled" at her heels into the
+dining-room, into the learned presence of the old professor, by whom the
+mischievous Mike was welcomed as if he were a prince of the blood.</p>
+
+<p>The raven knew, none better, that he had the freedom of the city, and at
+once set to work to abuse it. A sorry breakfast-table it was in less
+than five minutes. Here and there over the white tablecloth Mike
+scuttled and scrambled. His beak plunged into the cream-jug, then deep
+into the butter, next aimed a dab at the marmalade, and then he uttered
+a wrathful shriek became the bacon was too hot for his taste.</p>
+
+<p>"My patience! Flesh and blood couldn't stand this!" Mrs. Barbara came
+in, her hands in the air.</p>
+
+<p>But the professor neither saw nor heard the old housekeeper's anger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Wonderful, wonderful!" he was admiringly ejaculating. "Behold the
+amazing instinct implanted by nature. See how the feathered epicure
+picks and chooses his morning meal!"</p>
+
+<p>"If a 'feathered pickyer' means a black thief as ever was, sir, that
+bird's well named!" said the housekeeper wrathfully.</p>
+
+<p>At last Mike made his final choice, and, out of pure contrariness, it
+was the bowl of hot bread and milk prepared for Jinty's breakfast from
+which he flatly refused to be elbowed away.</p>
+
+<p>"My pretty! Has it snatched the very cup from thy lip!" Mrs. Barbara's
+indignation boiled over against the bold audacious tyrant so abetted by
+its master&mdash;and hers. "If I'd but my will o' thee, thou thief, I'd flog
+thee sore!" she added.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+"Quoth the raven: never more!"<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='unindent'>solemnly edged in the professor, with a ponderous chuckle over his own
+aptitude which went unapplauded save by himself.</div>
+
+<p>"I want my breakfast, grandpapa," whimpered Jinty.</p>
+
+<p>It was all very funny indeed to witness Mike's reckless charge of
+destruction over the snowy tablecloth, but, when it came to his calm
+appropriation of her own breakfast, why, as Mrs. Barbara said, "Flesh
+and blood couldn't stand it."</p>
+
+<p>"Have a cup of black coffee and some omelette, dearling!" said the
+professor, who would not have called anybody "darling" for the world.
+Then the reckless old gentleman proceeded to placidly sort the letters
+lying on the breakfast-table, comfortably unconscious that little maids
+"cometh up" on different fare from that of tough old veterans.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, why! Here's a surprise for us all!" Pushing back his spectacles
+into the very roots of his white hair, the professor stared feebly round
+on the company, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>and twiddled in his fingers a sheet of thin foreign
+paper.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir?" Mrs. Barbara turned to her master eagerly alert for the
+news, and Jinty wondered if it were to say the dream-father was coming
+home at last.</p>
+
+<p>But Mike, though some folk believe that ravens understand every word you
+say, continued to dip again and again into his stolen bread and milk
+with a lofty indifference. It might be an earthquake that had come to
+Old Studley for all he knew. What if it were? There would always be a
+ledge of rock somewhere about where he, Mike, could hold on in safety if
+the earth were topsy-turvy. Besides, he had now scooped up the last
+scrap of Jinty's breakfast, and it behoved him to be up and doing some
+mischief.</p>
+
+<p>His bold black eye caught a gleam of silver, an opportunity ready to his
+beak. It was a quaint little Norwegian silver salt-cellar in the form of
+a swan. Mike, with his head on one side, considered the feasibility of
+removing that ancient Norse relic quietly. Then, afraid perhaps of
+bringing about bad luck by spilling the salt, he gave up the idea and
+stole softly away, unnoticed by his betters, who seemed ridiculously
+occupied with a thin, rustling sheet of paper.</p>
+
+<p>But to this day Mrs. Barbara has never found the salt-spoon, a little
+silver oar, belonging to that Norse salt-cellar, and she never will,
+that's certain.</p>
+
+<p>"Extraordinary, most extraordinary!" the professor was repeating. Then,
+when Mrs. Barbara felt she could bear it no longer, he went on to read
+out the foreign letter.</p>
+
+<p>It was from his son, Jinty's father, and told how his life had been
+recently in grave peril. His house had been attacked by native rioters,
+and he would certainly have been murdered had it not been for the
+warning of a friendly Chinaman. Mr. Ransom escaped in the darkness, but
+the loyal native who had saved him, paid the cost with his own life. He
+was cruelly hacked to pieces for his so-called treachery. When the
+rioters <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>were quelled by a British detachment, Mr. Ransom's first
+thought was for the family of his faithful friend. But it was too late.
+With the exception of one tiny girl all had been killed by the rioters.
+This forlorn little orphan was already on her way crossing the Pacific,
+for she was to be housed and educated at Old Studley with Mr. Ransom's
+own little daughter, and at his expense. Common gratitude could do no
+less.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Ah Lon</div>
+
+<p>The letter went on to say that Ah Lon, the little Chinese maiden, was a
+well-brought-up child, her father belonging to the anti-foot-binding
+community which is fast making its way throughout China. She would
+therefore be no more trouble in the old home than a little English girl,
+than father's own Jinty, in fact.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of course," said the Professor meditatively, "the heavy end of
+the beam will come upon you, my good Barbara. There's plenty of room in
+the old house for this young stranger, but she will be a great charge
+for you."</p>
+
+<p>"'Deed, sir, and it's a charge I never looked to have put upon me!"
+quavered the scandalised Mrs. Barbara, twisting the corner of her apron
+agitatedly. "A haythen Chinee under this respected roof where there's
+been none but Christian Ransoms for generations back!"</p>
+
+<p>"There, there!" said her master soothingly. "Your motherly heart would
+never turn away a poor orphan from our door!"</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Barbara sniffed herself out of the room, and it was weeks
+before she reconciled herself to the new and disagreeable prospect.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, when poor, shivering Ah Lon arrived at Old Studley, the good
+woman nearly swooned at the spectacle of a little visitor arrayed in
+dark blue raiment consisting of a long, square-shaped jacket and full
+trousers, and a bare head stuck over with well-oiled queues of black
+hair.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought as Mr. William wrote it was a girl, sir!" she gasped faintly,
+with a shocked face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But the old professor was in ecstasies. All he could think of was the
+fact that under his roof was a being who could converse in pure Chinese;
+in truth, poor bewildered Ah Lon could not speak in anything else but
+her native tongue. He would have carried her off to his study and
+monopolised her, but Mrs. Barbara's sense of propriety was fired.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," she interposed firmly. "If that being's the girl Mr. William
+sent she's got to look as such in some of Miss Jinty's garments and
+immediately."</p>
+
+<p>So Ah Lon, trembling like a leaf, was carried off to be attired like a
+little English child.</p>
+
+<p>"But as for looking like one, that she never will!" Mrs. Barbara
+hopelessly regarded the strangely-wide little yellow face, the singular
+eyes narrow as slits, and the still more singular eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, never mind how she looks!" Jinty put her arms round the little
+yellow neck and lovingly kissed the stranger, who summarily shook her
+off. Perhaps Ah Lon was not accustomed to kisses at home.</p>
+
+<p>It was a rebuff, and Jinty got many another as the days went on. Do what
+she could to please and amuse the little foreigner, Ah Lon shrank from
+her persistently.</p>
+<div><a name="horrible" id="horrible"></a></div>
+<div class="figright" style="width: 245px;">
+<img src="images/14.jpg" width="245" height="400" alt="HORRIBLE DREAMS OF MONSTERS AND DEMONS." title="HORRIBLE DREAMS OF MONSTERS AND DEMONS." />
+<span class="caption">HORRIBLE DREAMS OF MONSTERS AND DEMONS.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>All Jinty's treasures, dolls and toys and keepsakes were exhibited, but
+Ah Lon turned away indifferently. The Chinese girl, in truth, was deadly
+home-sick, but she would have died rather than confess it, even to the
+professor, the only person who understood her speech. She detested the
+new, strange country, the queer, unknown food, the outlandish ways. Yet
+she was in many respects happier. Some of the old hardships of girl life
+in China were gone. Some old fears began to vanish, and her nights were
+no longer disturbed with horrible dreams of monsters and demons.</p>
+
+<p>But of all things in and about Old Studley Ah Lon most detested Mike the
+raven, and Mike seemed fully to return her dislike. He pecked viciously
+at the spindly Chinese legs and sent Ah Lon into convulsions of terror.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ah well, bad as he is, Mike's British same's I am, and he do hate a
+foreigner!" said Mrs. Barbara appreciatively.</p>
+
+<p>Time went on and Jinty began to shoot up; she was growing quite tall,
+and Ah Lon also grew apace. But, still, though the little foreigner
+could now find her way about in the language of her new country, she
+shut her heart against kind little Jinty's advances.</p>
+
+<p>"She won't have anything to say to me!" complained Jinty, "she won't
+make friends, Mrs. Barbara! The only thing she will look at is my pearl
+locket, she likes that!"</p>
+
+<p>Indeed Ah Lon seemed never tired of gazing at the pearl-rimmed locket
+which hung by a slender little chain round Jinty's neck, and contained
+the miniature of her pretty young mother so long dead. The little
+Chinese never tired of stroking the sweet face looking out from the rim
+of pearls.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you say prayers to it?" she asked, in her stammering English.</p>
+
+<p>"Prayers, no!" Jinty was shocked. "I only pray to our Father and to the
+good Jesus. Why, you wouldn't pray to a picture?"</p>
+
+<p>Ah Lon was silent. So perhaps she had been praying to the sweet painted
+face already, who could say?</p>
+
+<p>It was soon after this talk that the two little girls sat in the study
+one morning. Ah Lon was at the table by the side of the professor, an
+open atlas between them and the old gentleman in his element.</p>
+
+<p>But Jinty sat apart, strangely quiet.</p>
+
+<p>Ah Lon, watching out of her slits of eyes, had never seen Jinty so dull
+and silent. And all that summer day it was the same.</p>
+
+<p>"What's amiss with my dear maid?" anxiously asked Mrs. Barbara, when
+bed-time came.</p>
+
+<p>Then it all came out.</p>
+
+<p>"I've lost my pearl-rimmed locket!" sobbed Jinty. "Ah Lon asked to look
+at it this morning the first thing; she always does, you know. And I
+took it off, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>and then Mike pecked my legs and Ah Lon's so hard that we
+both ran away screaming, and I must have dropped the locket&mdash;and it's
+gone!"</p>
+
+<p>"Gone! That can't be! Unless&mdash;unless&mdash;&mdash;" Mrs. Barbara hesitated, and
+Jinty knew they were thinking the same thing. "Have you told Ah Lon,
+deary?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did this afternoon, and she cried. I never saw her cry before!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, jes' so! You can't trust they foreigners. But I'll sift this
+business, I shall!" vigorously said Mrs. Barbara.</p>
+
+<p>But for days the disappearance of the locket was a mystery. In Mrs.
+Barbara's mind there was no doubt that Ah Lon had taken the coveted
+picture and concealed it in safe hiding. Jinty almost thought so too,
+and a gloom crept over Old Studley. "I dursn't tell the master, he's
+that wrapped up in the wicked little yellow-faced creature. I'll step
+over to the parson and tell he," Mrs. Barbara decided, and arraying
+herself in her Sunday best, she sallied forth to the vicarage.</p>
+
+<p>As she crossed the little common shouts and laughter and angry chatter
+fell on her ear.</p>
+
+<p>A group of schoolboys, the parson's four little sons, were closing in
+round a dark object.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, if that isn't our Mike! I never knew the bird to go outside of Old
+Studley before. What&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mrs. Barbara, do come along here!" Reggie, the eldest of the four,
+turned his head and beckoned her.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Mike's Mishap</div>
+
+<p>"Here's a nice go! We've run your Mike in, and see his fury, do! Our
+Tommy was looking for birds' eggs in the Old Studley hedge, and he saw a
+shine of gold and pulled out this! And Mike chased him, madly pecking
+his legs, out here to the common. And now he's fit to fly at me because
+I've got his stolen goods. Look, do!"</p>
+
+<p>Reggie doubled up with yells of laughter, and Mike, in a storm of fury,
+shrieked himself hoarse.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Barbara stood dumb.</p>
+
+<p>In a flash the truth had come to her.</p>
+
+<p>Mike, not poor Ah Lon, was the thief. She tingled all over with
+remorseful shame as she crept home with the locket in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, and we thought you had stolen it, Ah Lon dear!" Jinty confessed,
+with wild weeping; but Ah Lon was placidly smoothing the precious little
+picture. It was enough for her that it had come back. "Grandpapa must
+know; he must be told!" went on Jinty, determined not to spare herself.</p>
+
+<p>When the professor heard the whole story he was very quiet indeed. But a
+few days after he went up to London on a little visit, and when he
+returned he called Jinty into the study.</p>
+
+<p>"This," he said, opening a case, "will perhaps make up to the friendless
+little stranger for your unjust suspicions!" He handed Jinty a
+pearl-edged locket with a painting of a Chinese lady's head. "Chinese
+faces are so similar that it may serve as a remembrance of her own
+mother. And this, Jinty dearling, will keep alive in your memory one of
+our Lord's behests!" From another case came a dainty silver bangle
+inside of which Jinty read, with misty eyes, the engraved words: <i>Judge
+not!</i></p>
+
+<p>But already their meaning was engraved on her heart; and&mdash;as time won Ah
+Lon's shy affections&mdash;she and the little Chinese stranger grew to be as
+true sisters under the roof of Old Studley.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Rembrandt's Sister</h2>
+
+<h3>A Noble Life Recalled</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Henry Williams</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">The artistic life sometimes leaves those who follow it
+largely dependent upon the stimulus and the aid which the devotion of
+others may supply. Rembrandt was a case in point, and the story of his
+sister's life is worth recalling.</div>
+
+<p>The first glimpse we get of the noble woman who is the subject of this
+sketch gives us the key to her whole character. Her brother, the famous
+Paul Rembrandt, had come home from school in disgrace, and it is as his
+defender that Louise Gerretz first shows herself to the world. Her
+tender, sympathetic heart could find excuse for a brother who would not
+learn Latin because even as a child his heart was set upon becoming a
+painter. We know how he succeeded, but it is not always one's early
+desires are fulfilled so completely as they were in Paul's case.</p>
+
+<p>It was in the evening of the very same day on which Louise championed
+her brother's cause that we find her almost heart-broken, yet bravely
+hiding her own grief and comforting her younger sisters and brothers in
+a terrible affliction, the most terrible that can overtake a family of
+young children. This was the sudden death of the beloved mother, who had
+been an invalid for some time. The father was a drunken sot, who had
+fallen into heavy slumber even while his dying <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>wife was uttering her
+last request to him on earth; this was that he would make an artist of
+the young Paul, instead of a lawyer, as was his intention.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, while preparations were going on for the funeral, the
+brutal husband sought refuge from remorse in the bottle, so that for the
+most part of the day he was hopelessly drunk. In this emergency Louise
+(who was only fifteen) took the direction of affairs into her own hands.
+The little ones had been crying all day for their mother, and would not
+be even separated from the corpse. They were inconsolable, and at last
+the youngest sobbed out, "Who will be our mother now?"</p>
+
+<p>At this question Louise arose, and said, with deep and solemn
+earnestness, "I will!"</p>
+
+<p>There was something in her manner which struck the children with wonder.
+Their tears ceased immediately. It seemed as if an angel stood beside
+Louise, and said, "Behold your mother!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not wish me for your mother?" she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>The little ones ran into her embrace. She folded her arms around them,
+and all wept together.</p>
+
+<p>She had conquered the children with love, and they were no more trouble
+to her. They all gladly gave the promise to look up to and obey her in
+everything.</p>
+
+<p>But a harder task was before her. Strangers were present who must soon
+find out that her father was intoxicated, on this day of all others, if
+she did not get him out of the way. She succeeded at last, after
+infinite pains, and that so well that no one knew the state he was in,
+and thus he was saved from the open disgrace that would surely have
+followed him had it got about.</p>
+
+<p>The sad duties of the funeral over, Louise Gerretz braced herself to the
+task of looking after the numerous household affairs. Nor was this all
+she had to do, for her father carried on the business of a miller, and
+because of his drunken habits his daughter had the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>workpeople to look
+after, and also the shop to attend to. But she was sustained by the
+thought that her sainted mother was looking on her from heaven, and this
+helped her to bear up during the trying times that followed.</p>
+
+<p>She now determined that, if it were possible, her brother Paul&mdash;who,
+afterwards following the usual custom amongst painters of the time,
+changed his name to Rembrandt&mdash;should have every opportunity afforded
+him of following his natural bent.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"I will be a Painter!"</div>
+
+<p>But no sooner was the subject broached to M. Gerretz than his anger
+blazed forth, and though Louise withstood him for some time, she felt
+her cherished plans would receive no consideration whatever from a
+father who was three-parts of his time crazed with drink. Little Paul,
+who was present, seeing that the appeal would probably end in failure,
+exclaimed, with determined voice, "I will be a painter!"</p>
+
+<p>A blow aimed at him was his father's reply. The blow missed its mark,
+but struck the sister-mother to the earth. Heedless of his own danger,
+Paul raised his sister's head, and bathed it tenderly until she came to
+herself again. Even the brutish Gerretz was somewhat shocked by what he
+had done, yet seizing what he thought an advantage, he cried, "Hark ye,
+young rascal! You mind not blows any more than my plain orders; but your
+sister helps you out in all your disobedience, and if you offend me I
+will punish her."</p>
+
+<p>The brutal threat had its desired effect, and young Paul returned to
+those studies which were intended to make a lawyer of him.</p>
+
+<p>Every spare moment, however, he spent in his favourite pursuit. His
+materials were of the roughest: a charred stick, a lump of chalk, and a
+flour sack. Not very encouraging tools, one would think, and yet the
+genius that was within would not be hid. He produced from memory a
+portrait of his mother, that had such an effect upon the father that the
+latter, affected to tears by the sight of his dead wife's face,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>dismissed the boy with his blessing, and promised him he should be a
+painter after all.</p>
+
+<p>Great was Louise's joy; and then, like the loving, practical sister she
+was, she immediately set about the young artist's outfit. Nor did she
+pause until everything was in apple-pie order.</p>
+
+<p>Surely God was strengthening and comforting His own. Just consider; here
+was a young girl, now only sixteen years of age, who had the management
+of a miller's business, was a mother and sister in one to three young
+children, and, one is almost tempted to say, was also a tender, loving
+wife to a drunken, incapable father.</p>
+
+<p>The journey to Leyden, whither Paul was bound, was not without incident
+of a somewhat romantic kind. As the vehicle in which Louise and the
+future great painter sat neared Leyden, they came upon a man who lay
+insensible upon the road. The tender heart of the girl was touched, and
+she stopped and restored the man to consciousness, and then pressed
+further assistance upon him. The grateful recipient of her kindness,
+however, soon feeling strong enough, proceeded on his way alone.</p>
+
+<p>The scene had not passed without a witness, though, who proved to be
+none other than the eminent master-painter Van Zwanenburg, who joined
+himself to the little party. But his brow darkened when he learned the
+purport of the young traveller's journey, and he spoke no more for some
+time, for he was a misanthrope, and, consequently, took small share in
+the hopes and pleasures of others. Soon after, however, as they were
+passing a forge, young Paul stopped and clapped his hands with delight
+at the sight of the ruddy light cast on the faces of the workmen.</p>
+
+<p>"Canst thou sketch this scene?" asked Van Zwanenburg. Paul took a
+pencil, and in a few moments traced a sketch, imperfect, no doubt, but
+one in which the principal effects of light and shade especially were
+accurately produced.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Young girl," said the painter, "you need go no further. I am Van
+Zwanenburg, and I admit your brother from this minute to my studio."</p>
+
+<p>Further conversation ensued, and Van Zwanenburg soon learned the whole
+sorrowful tale, and also the courage and devotedness of this young
+foster-mother. He dismissed her with a blessing, misanthrope even as he
+was, and then carried Paul to his studio, lighter at heart for having
+done a kind action.</p>
+
+<p>Sorrowful, and yet with a glad heart, did Louise part from little Paul,
+and then turn homewards. Little did she dream of the great sorrow that
+was there awaiting her.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Lost in the Forest</div>
+
+<p>Arriving at home in the dark, she was startled to find that no one
+answered her repeated knocking. Accompanied by an old servant, who had
+been with her in the journey, she was about to seek assistance from the
+neighbours, when lights were seen in the adjoining forest. She hastened
+towards these, and was dismayed to learn that the two children left at
+home had strayed away and got lost in the forest. M. Gerretz was amongst
+the searchers, nearly frantic. The men were about to give up the search
+when Louise, with a prayer for strength on her lips, appealed to them to
+try once more. She managed to regulate the search this time, sending the
+men off singly in different directions, so as to cover as much ground as
+possible. Then with her father she set out herself.</p>
+
+<p>It was morning when they returned. Gerretz, sober enough now, was
+bearing the insensible form of the brave girl in his arms. She
+recovered, but only to learn that one of the children had been brought
+in dead, while the other was nearly so. This sister thus brought so near
+to death's door was to prove a sore trial in the future to poor Louise.</p>
+
+<p>A hard life lay before Louise, and it was only by God's mercy that she
+was enabled to keep up under the manifold trials that all too thickly
+strewed her path. Her father, sobered for a time by the dreadful <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>death
+of his child, through his own negligence, soon fell back into his evil
+ways, and became more incapable than ever. The business would have gone
+to the dogs had it not been for his heroic daughter, who not only looked
+after the household, but managed the mill and shop as well. All this was
+done in such a quiet, unostentatious manner that no one of their friends
+or customers but thought that the father was the chief manager.</p>
+
+<p>But Louise had other trials in store. Her sister Th&eacute;r&egrave;se was growing up
+into young womanhood, and rebelled against her gentle, loving authority.
+The father aided Th&eacute;r&egrave;se in the rebellion, as he thought Louise kept too
+tight a hold of the purse-strings. Between father and sister, poor
+Louise had a hard time of it; she even, at one time, was compelled to
+sell some valued trinkets to pay a bill that was due, because money she
+had put by for the purpose was squandered in drink and finery.</p>
+
+<p>The father died, and then after many years we see Louise Gerretz
+established in the house of Van Zwanenburg the artist, the same who had
+taken young Paul as a pupil. Both Louise and Paul were now his adopted
+children; nor was he without his reward. Under the beneficent rule of
+the gentle Louise things went so smoothly that the artist and his pupils
+blessed the day when she came amongst them.</p>
+
+<p>But before the advent of Louise, her brother Paul had imbibed a great
+share of his master's dark and gloomy nature, and, what was perhaps even
+worse, had already, young as he was, acquired the habit of looking at
+everything from a money-making standpoint.</p>
+
+<p>Another great sorrow was in store for Louise, though she came from the
+ordeal with flying colours, and once more the grand self-sacrificing
+nature of the young woman shone out conspicuous amidst its surroundings
+of sordid self-interest. It was in this way. The nephew of Van
+Zwanenburg, with the approval of his uncle, wooed and eventually
+obtained her consent to their marriage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>On the death of the father, Th&eacute;r&egrave;se had been taken home by an aunt, who
+possessed considerable means, to Brussels. The aunt was now dead, and
+Th&eacute;r&egrave;se, who inherited some of her wealth, came to reside near her
+sister and brother. She was prepossessing and attractive, and very soon
+it became evident that the lover of Louise, whose name was Saturnin, had
+transferred his affection to the younger sister. Saturnin, to his
+credit, did try to overcome his passion for Th&eacute;r&egrave;se, but only found
+himself becoming more hopelessly in love with her handsome face and
+engaging ways. Van Zwanenburg stormed, and even forbade the young man
+his house.</p>
+
+<p>Louise herself seemed to be the only one who did not see how things were
+going. She was happy in her love, which, indeed, was only increased by
+the thought that her promised husband and her sister seemed to be on the
+best of terms.</p>
+
+<p>But one day she received a terrible awakening from her happy dreams. She
+heard two voices whispering, and, almost mechanically, stopped to
+listen. It was Saturnin and Th&eacute;r&egrave;se. "I will do my duty," Saturnin was
+saying; "I will wed Louise. I will try to hide from her that I have
+loved another, even though I die through it."</p>
+
+<p>Great was the grief of poor Louise, though, brave girl as she was, she
+strove to stifle her feelings, lest she should give pain to those she
+loved. A little later she sought Van Zwanenburg, and begged that he
+would restore Saturnin to favour, and consent to his marriage with
+Th&eacute;r&egrave;se. She was successful in her mission of love, though not at first.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Terrible Blow</div>
+
+<p>Hiding her almost broken heart, Louise now strove to find comfort in the
+thought that she had made others happy, though she had to admit it was
+at a terrible cost to herself.</p>
+
+<p>Her unselfishness had a great effect upon the old artist, whose
+admiration for his adopted daughter now knew no bounds. Through her he
+was restored to his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>faith in human nature, and he asked God to forgive
+him for ever doubting the existence of virtue.</p>
+
+<p>We cannot follow Louise Gerretz through the next twenty years. Suffice
+it to say that during that time Van Zwanenburg passed peacefully away,
+and that Paul Rembrandt, whose reputation was now well established, had
+married. The lonely sister tried to get on with Paul's wife, but after a
+few years she had sadly to seek a home of her own.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the twenty years Louise one day received the following
+curt letter from her miserly brother:</p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Sister</span>,&mdash;My wife is dead, my son is
+travelling, I am alone.</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+"<span class="smcap">Paul Rembrandt.</span>"<br />
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The devoted sister, still intent on making others happy, started at once
+to her brother, and until the day of his death she never left him. A
+great change had come over Rembrandt. He had become more morose and
+bitter than ever. Success had only seemed to harden his heart, until
+nothing but the chinking of gold had any effect upon it. He was
+immensely wealthy, but a miser. As the years passed the gloom settled
+deeper upon his soul, until finally he shut himself up in his dark
+studio, and would see no one but Jews and money-brokers. At times he
+would not let a picture go unless it had been covered with gold, as the
+price of it. With all this wealth, the house of the famous painter bore
+a poverty-stricken look, which was copied in the person of Rembrandt
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>Just before the end, when he felt himself seized by his death-sickness,
+Paul one day called his sister to his bedside, and, commanding her to
+raise a trapdoor in the floor of his bedroom, showed her his hoard of
+gold. He then begged, as his last request, that he should be buried
+privately, and that neither his son, nor indeed any one, should know
+that he died rich. Louise was to have everything, and the graceless son
+nothing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Louise's Refusal</div>
+
+<p>Great was his anger when his sister declared she should not keep the
+gold, but would take care that it passed into the hands of those who
+would know how to use it properly. Louise was firm, and Rembrandt was
+powerless to do more than toss about in his distress. But gradually,
+under the gentle admonitions of his sister, the artist's vision seemed
+to expand, and before his death he was enabled to see where and how he
+had made shipwreck of his happiness. Thanks to the ministrations of his
+sister, his end was a peaceful one, and he died blessing her for all her
+devotion to him.</p>
+
+<p>Louise's own useful and devoted life was now near its close.</p>
+
+<p>After winding up the affairs of her brother, she undertook to pay a
+visit to her sister, who had fallen ill. It was too much for the good
+old soul; she died on the journey.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Hepsie's Christmas Visit</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Maud Maddick</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Hepsie's misdeed led, when she understood it, to a bold act
+which had very gratifying results.</div>
+
+<p>"I say, little mother," said Hepsie, as she tucked her hand under Mrs.
+Erldon's arm, and hurried her along the snowy path from the old church
+door, "I say&mdash;I've been thinking what a jolly and dear old world this
+is, and if only the people in it were a little bit nicer, why, there
+wouldn't be a thing to grumble at, would there?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Erldon turned her rather sad, but sweet face towards her little
+daughter, and smiled at her.</p>
+
+<p>Somehow folks often <i>did</i> smile at Hepsie. She was such a breezy brisk
+sort of child, and had a way of looking at life in general that was
+distinctly interesting.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, dearie," she went on, in that protecting little manner
+Hepsie loved to adopt when talking to her beloved mother, "you can't
+imagine I am thinking of people like you. If every one were half&mdash;no&mdash;a
+quarter as delightful as <i>you</i>, the world would be charming. Oh dear no,
+I am not flattering at all, I am just speaking the truth; but there
+aren't many of your kind about, as I find out more and more every day."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My dearest of little girls," interrupted her mother, as they turned
+into Sunnycoombe Lane, where the snow lay crisply shining, and the trees
+were flecked with that dainty tracing of frozen white, "you look at me
+through glasses of love, and <i>they</i> have a knack of painting a person as
+fair as you wish that one to be. Supposing you give the rest of the
+world a little of their benefit, Hepsie mine!"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">An Unruly Member</div>
+
+<p>Hepsie flung back her head, and laughed lightly. "Oh, you artful little
+mother! That's your gentle way of telling me, what, of course, I
+know&mdash;that I am a horrid girl for impatience and temper, when I get
+vexed; but you know, mother darling, I shall never be able to manage my
+tongue. It was born too long, and though on this very Christmas morning
+I have been making ever so many good resolutions to keep the tiresome
+thing in order&mdash;you mark my words, little mother, if it doesn't run off
+in some dreadful way directly it gets the chance&mdash;and then you'll be
+grieved&mdash;and I shall be sorry&mdash;and some one or other will be <i>in a
+rage!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Erldon drew in her lips. It was hard to keep from laughing at the
+comical look on the little girl's face, and certainly what she said was
+true. Some one was very often in a rage with Hepsie's tongue. It was a
+most outspoken and unruly member, and yet belonged to the best-hearted
+child in the whole of Sunnycoombe, and the favourite, too, in spite of
+her temper, which was so quickly over, and her repentance always so
+sincere and sweet.</p>
+
+<p>She was looking up into Mrs. Erldon's face now with great honest blue
+eyes in which a faint shadow could be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"I met my grandfather this morning," she said in a quick, rather nervous
+voice, "and I told him he was a wicked old man!"</p>
+
+<p>Her mother turned so white that Hepsie thought she was going to faint,
+and hung on to her arm in terror and remorse.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't look like that!" she burst forth desperately. "I know I ought to
+be shaken, and ought to be ashamed of myself&mdash;but it's no use&mdash;I'm not
+either one or the other, only I wish I hadn't done it now, because I've
+vexed you on Christmas morning!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Erldon walked along, looking straight ahead.</p>
+
+<div><a name="do" id="do"></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 235px;">
+<img src="images/15.jpg" width="235" height="400" alt="&quot;DO FORGIVE ME, MOTHER DARLING!&quot;" title="&quot;DO FORGIVE ME, MOTHER DARLING!&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;DO FORGIVE ME, MOTHER DARLING!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I'd rather you did shake me," said Hepsie, in a quivering tone, "only
+you couldn't do such a thing, I know. You're too kind&mdash;and I'm always
+saying something I shouldn't. Do forgive me, mother darling! You can't
+think what a relief it was to me to speak like that to my grandfather,
+who thinks he's all the world, and something more, just because he's the
+Lord of the Manor and got a hateful heap of money, and it'll do him good
+(when he's got over his rage) to feel that there's his own little
+granddaughter who isn't afraid of him and tells him the truth&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hepsie!"</p>
+
+<p>Hepsie paused, and stared. Her gentle mother was gazing so strangely and
+sternly at her.</p>
+
+<p>"You are speaking of my father, Hepsie," she said quietly, but in a
+voice new to her child, though it was still gentle and low, "and in
+treating him with disrespect you have hurt me deeply."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but mother&mdash;darling, darling mother," cried the child, with tears
+springing to her beautiful eyes, "I wouldn't hurt you for a million
+wicked old grandfathers! I'd rather let him do anything he liked that
+was bad to me, but what I can't stand is his making you sad and unhappy,
+and making poor daddy go right away again to that far-away place in
+South Africa, which he never need have done if it hadn't been for being
+poor, though he must be finding money now, or he couldn't send you those
+lovely furs, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Hepsie, Hepsie, that little tongue, how it gallops along! Be quiet
+at once, and listen to me! There, dear, I can't bear to see tears in
+your eyes on Christmas Day, and when you and I are just the two together
+on this day&mdash;your father so many, many miles <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>distant from us, and
+poor grandfather nursing his anger all alone in the big old house."</p>
+
+<p>Her tone was full of a deep sorrow, and for once, young as she was,
+Hepsie understood that here was an emotion upon which she must not
+remark, though she muttered in her own heart:</p>
+
+<p>"All through his own wicked old temper."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Erldon took Hepsie's hand in her own as they walked towards the
+little home at the end of the long country lane.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Mrs. Erldon Explains</div>
+
+<p>"I will not scold you, my darling," she said; "but in future never
+forget that God Himself commands that we shall honour our parents, and
+even if they grieve their children, Hepsie, that does not do away with
+children's duty, and a parent is a parent as long as life lasts&mdash;to be
+honoured and&mdash;loved! You are twelve years old, dear, and big enough now
+to understand how sad I am that my dear old father will not forgive me
+for marrying your father, and I think I had better explain things a
+little to you, Hepsie. There was some one&mdash;a rich cousin&mdash;whom my father
+had always hoped and wished that I should marry as soon as I was old
+enough; but when I was twenty-one, and was travelling with grandfather,
+you know, that is my own father&mdash;we made the acquaintance of a gentleman
+in South Africa&mdash;Alfred Erldon&mdash;who was of English parentage, but had
+lived out there all his life. Well, Hepsie, I need only say that this
+gentleman and I decided to marry against grandfather's desire. We were
+married in Johannesburg, to his great displeasure, so he refused to have
+anything to do with us, and returned to England, declaring he would
+never speak to me again.</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought that he really meant such a thing, he had always loved
+me so dearly, and I loved him so much. I wrote again and again, but
+there was no answer to any of my letters. Then, my darling, you were
+born, and soon after, the great South African War broke out, and your
+dear father made me leave Johannesburg and bring you to England. Of
+course,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> I came to the old home&mdash;Sunnycoombe&mdash;but only to find I was
+still unforgiven, for the letter I sent to say I was in the village was
+not answered either, humbly as I begged my father to see me. All the
+same, Hepsie, I have remained here at your father's wish, for he lost
+money, and had to 'trek north,' as they say, to a wild part of Rhodesia,
+where white women could not go."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Erldon's tears were nearly falling as she added: "Things have gone
+badly with him, and only once has he been able to come to England to
+spend a few months with us, as you remember, five years ago, but soon,
+now you are older, I shall go and face the life, however rough it may
+be. Now, no more talk, for here we are, darling, and, please God, this
+may be the last Christmas that we spend without daddy, in England or
+Africa, as it may be."</p>
+
+<p>"And I won't grieve you again to-day, darling little mother," whispered
+Hepsie, quite sobered at the thought of mother without either her daddy
+or Hepsie's on Christmas Day again, and no letter from Africa by the
+usual mail.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">An Afternoon Call</div>
+
+<p>It was a glorious afternoon, and when Mrs. Erldon settled down for a
+rest, Hepsie asked if she might go out for a run, to which her mother at
+once agreed. In this quiet little peaceful spot in Somersetshire there
+was no reason why a girl of Hepsie's age should not run about freely,
+and so, warmly wrapped up, the child trotted off&mdash;but any one watching
+her small determined face would have seen that this was not an ordinary
+walk upon her part.</p>
+
+<p>She left the old lane and turned towards a different part of
+Sunnycoombe. She approached the big Manor House through its wide gates,
+and along broad paths of well-trimmed trees. As she did so Hepsie
+breathed a little more quickly than usual, while a brilliant colour
+stole into her fair young cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"When one does wrong," she murmured determinedly, "there is only one
+thing to follow&mdash;and that is to put the wrong right, if one can. I spoke
+rudely <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>to my darling little mother's own father, and though he's a
+terrible old man, he's got to have an apology, which is a wretched thing
+to have to give; and he's got to hear that his daughter never would and
+never did teach her little girl to be rude, no, not even to a
+cantankerous old grandfather, who won't speak to a lovely sweet woman
+like my mother."</p>
+
+<p>She reached the porch, and pulled fiercely at the old-fashioned bell,
+then fairly jumped at the loud clanging noise that woke the silence of
+the quiet afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened so suddenly that Hepsie was quite confused, and for the
+moment took the stately old butler for her grandfather himself, offered
+her hand, and then turned crimson.</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious me!" she said in her brisk voice. "Do you stand behind
+the door all day? You made me jump so that I don't know what I am
+saying, but&mdash;well&mdash;I must see my grandfather at once, please."</p>
+
+<p>Every one in the village knew all about the child and who she was, and
+the man was more than surprised at seeing her dare to come there, and he
+also felt very nervous.</p>
+
+<p>"You run away, miss," he said in a confidential whisper, "an' more's the
+shame I should have to say so, but, bless your heart, the master
+wouldn't see you, and it's more than I dare to tell him you're wanting."</p>
+
+<p>"You need not trouble," Hepsie said; "if I had not made a big resolution
+to look after my tongue, I should say more than you would enjoy
+hearing&mdash;talking to a lady (who comes to visit your master on Christmas
+Day) like you are doing to me; not that you may not mean kindly, now I
+come to think of it, but meaning goes for nothing, my good man, if you
+do a wrong thing, and you can't tell me that you are the one to decide
+whom your master will see or not." She waited to take a breath, while
+the man rubbed his white hair in great perplexity, and feeling rather
+breathless himself; but Hepsie calmly walked by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>him, and before he
+could recover from the shock, he saw her disappear into the dining-room!</p>
+
+<p>Hepsie never forgot that moment.</p>
+
+<p>Seated at a long table was a solitary and lonely-looking figure,
+supporting one thin old cheek on his hand as he rested his elbow on the
+table and seemed to be gazing far away into space. She did not know that
+he was rather deaf, and had not heard her enter, and she stood and
+looked at him, with her heart aching in a funny sort of way, she
+thought, for the sake of a wicked old man.</p>
+
+<p>She stared and stared, and the more she stared, the bigger a lump in her
+throat seemed to become. The room was so quiet and he sat so still, and
+something in his face brought that of her mother to her mind.</p>
+
+<p>At last she walked right up to him, and, feeling if she did not get out
+the words quickly she never would, Hepsie stretched out her hand and
+said: "When I stopped you in the lane to-day, I didn't know how much
+mother still loved you, and I forgot all about honouring parents,
+however unkind they seem, or I shouldn't have told you what I did,
+however true it was, for I hurt mother shockingly, as any one could see,
+and I've promised to look after my tongue much better, and so I just
+rushed up here to say&mdash;what I have said&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;please that's all,
+except&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She gulped and choked, her small quivering and scarlet face with the
+pitiful eyes gazing down into his&mdash;and the years rolled away in the old
+man's sight, and his daughter was back at his side again. What was she
+saying in that pleading voice, as she knelt and clasped his shaking
+hand?</p>
+
+<p>"Except&mdash;except&mdash;I'm sorry, I am! Oh&mdash;I didn't think how sad you were,
+and can't you love me just a bit?"</p>
+
+<p>And what were Hepsie's feelings then when the old man rose, and seizing
+her in his arms, cried brokenly:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, child, if only your mother had said the same&mdash;only just once in the
+midst of my anger&mdash;but she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>passed her father by, she passed him by! And
+never a word in all these years of my loneliness and pain! My heart is
+breaking, for all its pride!"</p>
+
+<p>"She wrote again and again," declared Hepsie, and he started, and such a
+frown came then, that she was quite frightened, though she repeated,
+"Indeed she did, and she loves you still."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said he, "they never reached me! Some one has come between us.
+But never mind that now. I must go to your mother. Come," he added, "I
+must fetch my girl back to her home again, until her husband claims her
+from me."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Surprise</div>
+
+<p>But when the two reached the little house in the lane a surprise awaited
+them. They found Mrs. Erldon in her husband's arms. He had returned
+unexpectedly, having, as a successful prospector for gold, done well
+enough to return home at once to fetch his wife and child.</p>
+
+<p>No words could describe the joy in his wife's heart when her father took
+their hands and asked their forgiveness for years of estrangement, and
+told the tale of the intercepted letters, which he might never have
+discovered had it not been for little Hepsie's Christmas visit of peace
+and goodwill.</p>
+
+<p>Hepsie is learning to control that little tongue of hers now, and she
+has, framed in her room, a verse that mother wrote for Hepsie
+especially:</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Take heed of the words">
+<tr><td align='left'>Take heed of the words that hastily fly,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Lest sorrow should weep for them by and by,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>And the lips that have spoken vainly yearn,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sighing for words that can never return!</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Our African Driver</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">J. H. Spettigue</span></h3>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A glimpse of South African travel, with some of the humours
+of the road.</div>
+
+<p>"Here comes the wagon to be packed!" called the children, as with a
+creak and groan of wheels, and shouts from the Kafirs, it was brought
+lumbering to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"The vor-chiest is ready, Lang-Jan," said Mrs. Gilbert, coming to the
+door. "Everything that can, had better be put in place to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Ja, Meeses," agreed Jan. "It's a long trek from this here place to the
+town in one day, and I will start early, while the stars are still out."
+Lang-Jan was our driver, so called to distinguish him from the numerous
+other Jans about the place.</p>
+
+<p>The distinction was appropriate, for he looked very tall and slim,
+though it might be the contrast with his wife's massive build that gave
+him a false presentment. He was more proud of her bulk than of his own
+height, and used to jeer at his Hottentot leader for the scraggy
+appearance of <i>his</i> weaker half, possibly with the kindly intention of
+reducing the number, or severity, of the poor creature's beatings.</p>
+
+<p>I do not believe Jan ever beat his wife, though I think she was as lazy
+a woman as could be found.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> Perhaps he got most of his rations provided
+from the house, and was not dependent on her for his comfort.</p>
+
+<p>However, he seemed to me to have a Mark Tapley temper; the more
+unendurable the weather got, the cheerier he grew with his guttural and
+yet limpid cries to the oxen, and his brisk steps by their side.</p>
+
+<p>There was one thing, however, he could not see in patience&mdash;an amateur
+who had borrowed his whip with the proud intention of "helping to drive"
+letting the end of four yards of lash draggle over the dewy karoo,
+thereby making it limp and reducing its power to clack in the approved
+fashion.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<div class="sidenote">An Early Start</div>
+
+<p>"We had better sleep in the wagon, then we shall not be disturbed so
+early," cried one of the children; but we older people preferred the
+idea of half a night's rest indoors to lying awake on the cartels in the
+wagon listening to the tossings and complaints of others.</p>
+
+<p>We had been staying by the sea, and were now to journey homewards. Long
+before daylight, the noise of the oxen and clank of trek-chain told that
+inspanning was begun, and those of us who were to form the wagon party
+sprang out of bed and made a hurried toilet, while the Kafir women
+carried off the feather-beds and blankets, to stow in their allotted
+places in the wagon.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gilbert and his wife, with the younger children, were to follow in a
+four-horse Cape-cart.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it too dark to be trekking?" he called from his window.</p>
+
+<p>"The roads is good down here," said Jan. "I can see enough"; and he
+hurried his leader, and got us under way without more ado.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>We had the front curtain of the tent rolled up, and sat about on the
+boxes in silence for some time, listening to the plash of the sea upon
+the beach, every minute somebody giving a yawn.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot think why Lang-Jan is hurrying on so,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> said Constance at
+last, "unless he thinks it will be a very hot day again. The oxen gave
+out as we were coming down, and we had to outspan about five miles off."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>was</i> cross," said a younger sister.</p>
+
+<p>"You need not tell us that. We have not forgotten," laughed another.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I thought I could hear the sea, and I had been meaning to run
+down and have a bathe directly we stopped. It was enough to make one
+cross. And then that stupid old Kafir and Jan over the outspan money,
+and our none of us being able to find any change. I believe Jan was glad
+we couldn't pay."</p>
+
+<p>"Jan resents having to pay outspan money: he will wriggle out of it if
+he can," said Constance.</p>
+
+<p>We had gone the first three or four miles with plenty of noise, clack of
+whip and shout at team, but this gradually subsided, and with a warning
+to April, the leader, to have the oxen well in the middle of the road
+and to keep right on, Jan sank into such silence as was possible.</p>
+
+<p>Constance rose, and began to fumble for her purse.</p>
+
+<p>We heard a stealthy order to April to run, and the whip sounded again
+about one ox and another, while we were tipped about in all directions
+as the team suddenly put on a tremendous spurt.</p>
+
+<p>In the dim light we could see the outlines of a hut close by the road,
+and a <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Kaffir'">Kafir</ins> sprang out of the doorway towards us shouting for his money.
+Jan took no notice, but whipped and shouted and trotted along as if his
+were the only voice upraised.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop, Jan, stop!" called Constance.</p>
+
+<p>But Jan was suddenly deaf. The other man was not, however, and he ran
+along after us, followed by a string of undressed children, shouting and
+gesticulating wildly.</p>
+
+<p>"Jan, I insist upon stopping," called Constance. "April, stop the oxen."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of all the noise Jan was making, April <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>could not fail to hear
+the indignant cry of his young mistress, and presently the wagon was
+halted. Jan hastily popped the whip into the wagon and turned back to
+confront his enemy.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by stopping a wagon in the road like this? Outspan
+money? We have not outspanned and are not going to on your starved old
+veldt."</p>
+
+<p>"Jan, Jan, you know very well we are owing him two shillings from the
+last time we passed," said Constance.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger Kafir tried to get to the wagon, but Jan barred the
+passage. He changed his tactics. "Come, let's fight for it," he cried,
+casting his hat and scarlet head-handkerchief into the karoo out of the
+way.</p>
+
+<p>This offer was declined without thanks. "I shan't fight. The money is
+mine," protested the other, encouraged by finding his demand was allowed
+by the ladies.</p>
+
+<p>"April, leave the oxen and come here," called Constance. "Give this
+money to him."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Jan's Principles</div>
+
+<p>This was done at last, to Jan's grief. "Ah, Mees Constance! Why didn't
+you let me fight him? he was only a little thieving Fingo dog! I didn't
+outspan in sight of his old hut, and he must have come sneaking around
+and seen us, and never said he would have money till it was too late."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Jan, and why should our oxen eat up the grass and drink out of
+the dam without our paying?" asked Constance; but Jan only muttered,
+"Thief! Dog!" and got away from the scene of his defeat with speed.</p>
+
+<p>"That was why we were obliged to start in the middle of the night: Jan
+wanted to slip by here before the wagon could be recognised," said
+Constance. Jan had made a stand for his principles, though his
+mistress's perverted sense of justice had prevented his being able to
+carry them out. By the time we stopped for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>breakfast he had quite
+recovered his spirits; and when he found he had got his party well away
+from the place without another hateful demand, he seemed to have
+forgotten his hard fate in the early morning. When we reached the town
+we lost sight of Jan and his wagon for a couple of days, and took up our
+abode at an hotel.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>A change had taken place in our party when we collected for the second
+and longer part of our journey. Mr. Gilbert had gone home with some of
+the younger ones the day before, while his wife had stayed in town to
+take the rest of us to a ball.</p>
+
+<p>We were all tired as we reached the wagon, with our minds running on the
+purchases we had made, and lingering regretfully on some we had not.</p>
+
+<p>Lang-Jan and April hurried off to fetch the oxen as soon as we appeared;
+and Mrs. Gilbert began to go through the stores.</p>
+
+<p>"Those two Kafirs have eaten up our butter!" she exclaimed indignantly.
+"I saw what was left when you came, and thought it might not be quite
+enough. It is lucky I did, and have bought some more, or we should have
+had none at all. I cannot let such a thing as their taking our
+provisions pass without notice.&mdash;Jan," she said, when he returned, "you
+have taken my butter."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Meeses!" exclaimed Jan, as if such a thing was quite out of the
+question, "not me. It must ha' bin April."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Meeses&mdash;not me, Jan," said April.</p>
+
+<p>"It was both of you, I have no doubt," said Mrs. Gilbert severely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Meeses, April, April!" cried Jan, shaking his head.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it was Jan," protested the leader, again.</p>
+
+<p>Jan burst into a roar of laughter, like a naughty child owning up. "Oh!
+ja, Meeses! It was me. I looked at that tin of butter and then I said to
+April,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> 'I must have some of that lovely butter, whatever comes of it,'
+and then between us, it's all gone."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed impossible to deal with the offence gravely after that. "I
+shall know I must not leave any in the wagon another time," said the
+mistress; and we scrambled into our places to be out of the way while
+the work of inspanning went on.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Fiery Day</div>
+
+<p>The morning turned into a fiery day. The air shimmered blindingly above
+the veldt, and the white road, inches deep in dust, trailed ahead like
+an endless serpent. We panted and gasped under the shelter of the tent;
+April abandoned his post and climbed up in the back compartment of the
+wagon, but Jan grew more and more lively.</p>
+
+<p>He tightened his waist-belt and ran by the side of his team, encouraging
+them by voice and example.</p>
+
+<p>He wore an old soft felt hat, with a perfectly abject brim, above his
+scarlet handkerchief, and every quarter of a mile he would take it off
+and put the ostrich feather that adorned one side straight up, and
+attempt to pinch the limp brim into shape.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his cheerful snatches of song, and his encouraging cries,
+the poor beasts showed more and more signs of distress, till at last Jan
+turned to Mrs. Gilbert and said, "The poor oxen is just done up. We must
+outspan till it gets cooler."</p>
+
+<p>"What, outspan in this pitiless place, with not a house, or a tree, or
+water to be got at!" cried one of the girls.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a water-hole down there," said Jan, pointing to a dip in the
+ground not far off.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Gilbert, "I have been down there on horseback."</p>
+
+<p>The wagon was drawn off the road, and the weary oxen let loose, while we
+stretched ourselves on the cartels, but found the heat too great to let
+us recover any of our lost sleep.</p>
+
+<p>After a time some of us, thinking any change must be for the better,
+dragged ourselves out into the glare, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>and went to look at the pool of
+water. But though a few prickly pears and mimosa bushes grew around, it
+was not an inviting spot to rest in, and we laboured back across the
+scorching ground to the wagon, our only benefit being more thankfulness
+for its shelter.</p>
+
+<p>April had gone off to see that the oxen did not wander too far. Jan
+lighted a fire, made coffee for us, and broiled some meat and green
+mealie cobs.</p>
+
+<p>We felt better after our meal, though we had not been hungry for it.
+Then, to my surprise, Jan settled down to enjoy his share, as close to
+the fire as he could. I do not know if the burning scrub made a little
+motion in the air, or if Jan, by roasting one half of his body, felt the
+other cooler by contrast.</p>
+
+<p>Presently I saw, coming slowly across the veldt, a white-haired Kafir,
+carrying a weakly lamb in his arms. He made straight for Jan and sat
+down beside him.</p>
+
+<p>Constance, who was looking out too, roused herself and gave a little
+laugh. "Caught," she said, and I knew what she meant.</p>
+
+<p>At first the palaver seemed amiable enough, and we saw Jan even go the
+length of making a present of grilled mutton&mdash;chiefly bone, but not all.</p>
+
+<p>"An attempt at bribery," murmured Constance.</p>
+
+<p>In about half an hour we heard the inevitable demand. One might have
+thought Jan had never heard of outspan money, instead of its being a
+familiar and heating subject with him. When at last the claim was made
+clear to him, he asked the name of the Baas, and expressed the greatest
+surprise that any man could be so mean as to ask for money, just because
+poor souls had to wait by the road till it got cool, when it was too hot
+even for the oxen to eat anything.</p>
+
+<p>The explanation that the place was such a convenient distance from town,
+that if nothing was charged the Baas would have nothing left for his own
+flocks and herds, was badly received, as was also the reminder that if
+it was too hot for the oxen to eat much, they would drink all the same.
+The two argued for an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>hour, Jan emphatic and expostulating, the old
+Kafir calm, feeling both right and law were on his side.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"We shan't Pay"</div>
+
+<p>At length, Jan surprised us by announcing, "We shan't pay. Your Baas
+won't expect money from me anyhow, if he does from other people."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" exclaimed the other in surprise, for Jan spoke with
+conviction.</p>
+
+<p>"My Baas' wife is cousin to your Baas' wife, so of course we're free on
+his veldt."</p>
+
+<p>We laughed, but the collector remarked that he would go and inquire. So
+he marched up to the wagon, followed closely by Lang-Jan, in fear of
+treachery, and asked Mrs. Gilbert if it was true, and being informed
+that the ladies were related, he retired at once, and Jan triumphantly
+accompanied him back to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>I thought Jan would be happy now the wicked had ceased from troubling,
+but the storm had its after-roll. He now expressed indignation that two
+shillings had been demanded. If such an iniquitous claim was made at
+all, one shilling was all that should be asked for.</p>
+
+<p>They harried this point till the stranger asked Jan what odds it was to
+him&mdash;he did not pay the money.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't I pay the money?" cried Jan. "Isn't it taken out of my very
+hand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, ja! But it comes out of the Baas' pocket."</p>
+
+<p>"It comes out of my very hand," reiterated Jan, springing up; and
+fetching his whip, he gave three tremendous clacks with it, the signal
+to April, that could be heard a mile away in the still air, to bring
+back the oxen; and the baffled enemy picked up his lamb and retired from
+action.</p>
+
+<p>Jan was jubilant, and cheerfully agreed to Mrs. Gilbert's suggestions as
+to the best camping-place for the night.</p>
+
+<p>But I think his triumph was demoralising for him. As evening settled
+down and we were getting towards our resting-place, we passed by a rare
+thing&mdash;a long wooden fence; and we soon saw that Jan and April were
+freely helping themselves to the dry wood, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>stowing it at the sides
+of the wagon to save themselves the trouble of collecting any later.</p>
+
+<p>"Jan," called his mistress, "you must not steal that wood. The man it
+belongs to told the Baas he lost so much that he should put somebody to
+watch, and have any one who was caught taken before Mr. Huntly."</p>
+
+<p>"April," shouted Jan, laughing, "look out for old Huntly. The Meeses
+says we must stop it."</p>
+
+<p>Later, when we had outspanned for the night, and they had broiled our
+sausages, and made the coffee with chuckling anticipation of remainders,
+they made such a fire as scared Mrs. Gilbert, lest they should set the
+dry karoo around alight.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, April, we must beat it down a bit. The Meeses is feared we shall
+set the moon afire," laughed Jan, laying about him with a will, as the
+flames leaped heavenward.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning he had to cross a river, and pay toll at the bridge.
+Why Lang-Jan never objected to that, I do not know, but he came quite
+meekly for the money. His mistress had not the exact sum, and Jan was
+some time inside the toll-house, which was also a store.</p>
+
+<p>On emerging, he shouted and whipped up his oxen, and off we lumbered.</p>
+
+<p>When we came to a hill, and our pace was sufficiently slackened for
+speech, Mrs. Gilbert called to him, "Jan, where is my change?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Meeses!" exclaimed Jan, quite unabashed; "I took the change in
+tobacco!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Claudia's Place</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A. R. Buckland</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Many girls long for an opportunity to "do something." That
+was Claudia's way. And, after all, there <i>was</i> an opportunity. Where?</div>
+
+<p>"What I feel," said Claudia Haberton, sitting up with a movement of
+indignation, "is the miserable lack of purpose in one's life."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing to do?" said Mary Windsor.</p>
+
+<p>"To do! Yes, of a kind; common, insignificant work about which it is
+impossible to feel any enthusiasm."</p>
+
+<p>"'The trivial round'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Trivial enough. A thousand could do it as well or better than I can. I
+want more&mdash;to feel that I am in my place, and doing the very thing for
+which I am fitted."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure your liver is all right?"</p>
+
+<p>"There you go; just like the others. One can't express a wish to be of
+more use in the world without people muttering about discontent, and
+telling you you are out of sorts."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I had better go before I say worse." And Mary went.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps it was as well; for Claudia's aspirations were so often
+expressed in terms like these that she began to bore her friends. One,
+in a moment of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>exasperation, had advised her to go out as a nursery
+governess. "You would," she said, "have a wonderful opportunity of
+showing what is in you, and if you really succeed, you might make at
+least one mother happy." But Claudia put the idea aside with scorn.</p>
+
+<p>Another said it all came of being surrounded with comfort, and that if
+Claudia had been poorer, she would have been troubled with no such
+yearnings; the actual anxieties of life would have filled the vacuum.
+That, too, brought a cloud over their friendship. And the problem
+remained unsolved.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Haberton, immersed in affairs, had little time to consider his
+daughter's whims. Mrs. Haberton, long an invalid, was too much occupied
+in battling with her own ailments, and bearing the pain which was her
+daily lot, to feel acute sympathy with Claudia's woes.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," she said one day, when her daughter had been more than
+commonly eloquent upon the want of purpose in her life, "why don't you
+think of some occupation?"</p>
+
+<p>"But what occupation?" said Claudia. "Here I am at home, with everything
+around me, and no wants to supply&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That is something," put in Mrs. Haberton.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, people always tell you that; but after all, wouldn't it be
+better to have life to face, and to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Poor dear!" said Mrs. Haberton, stroking her daughter's cheek with a
+thin hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't, mamma," said Claudia; "you know how I dislike being
+petted like a child."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," said Mrs. Haberton, "I feel my pain again; do give me my
+medicine."</p>
+
+<p>She had asked for it a quarter of an hour before, but Claudia had
+forgotten so trivial a matter in the statement of her own woes. Now she
+looked keenly at her mother to see if this request was but an attempt to
+create a diversion. But the drawn look was sufficient. She hastily
+measured out the medicine, and as hastily <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>left the room saying, "I
+will send Pinsett to you at once."</p>
+
+<p>Pinsett was Mrs. Haberton's maid, who was speedily upon the spot to deal
+with the invalid.</p>
+
+<p>But Claudia had withdrawn to her own room, where she was soon deep in a
+pamphlet upon the social position of Woman, her true Rights in the
+World, and the noble opportunities for Serving Mankind outside the home.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Wanted&mdash;a Career</div>
+
+<p>"Ah," said Claudia to herself, "if I could only find some occupation
+which would give a purpose to existence&mdash;something which would make me
+really useful!"</p>
+
+<p>After all, was there any reason why she should not? There was Eroica
+Baldwin, who had become a hospital nurse, and wore the neatest possible
+costume with quite inimitable grace. It might be worth while asking her
+a few questions. It was true she had never much cared for Eroica; she
+was so tall and strong, so absurdly healthy, and so intolerant of one's
+aspirations. Still, her experience might be of use.</p>
+
+<p>There was Babette Irving&mdash;a foolish name, but it was her parents' fault;
+they had apparently thought she would always remain an infant in arms.
+Her father had married again, and Babette was keeping house with another
+woman of talent.</p>
+<div><a name="her" id="her"></a></div>
+<div class="figright" style="width: 247px;">
+<img src="images/16.jpg" width="247" height="400" alt="HER VERY YOUTH PLEADED FOR HER." title="VERY YOUTH PLEADED FOR HER." />
+<span class="caption">HER VERY YOUTH PLEADED FOR HER.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Babette had taken to the pen. Her very youth at first pleaded for her
+with editors, and she got some work. Then more came; but never quite
+enough. Now she wrote stories for children and for the "young person,"
+conducted a "Children's Column" in a weekly paper, supplied "Answers to
+Correspondents" upon a startling variety of absurd questions, and just
+contrived to live thereby.</p>
+
+<p>Babette's friend had been reared in the lap of luxury until a woeful
+year in the City made her father a bankrupt, and sent her to earn her
+living as a teacher of singing. They ought to have some advice to give.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was Sarah Griffin&mdash;"plain Sarah," as some of the unkind had
+chosen to call her at school.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> She was one of nine girls, and when her
+father died suddenly, and was found to have made but poor provision for
+his family, she had been thankful to find a place in a shop where an
+association of ladies endeavoured to get a sale for the work of
+"distressed gentlewomen."</p>
+
+<p>She also ought to know something of the world. Perhaps, she, too, could
+offer some suggestion as to how the life of a poor aimless thing like
+Claudia Haberton might be animated by a purpose.</p>
+
+<p>But they all lived in London, the very place, as Claudia felt, where
+women of spirit and of "views" should be. If she could but have a few
+hours of chat with each! And, after all, no doubt, this could be
+arranged. It was but a little time since Aunt Jane and Aunt Ruth had
+asked when she was going to cheer them with another visit. Might not
+their invitation give her just the opportunity she sought?</p>
+
+<p>Claudia reflected. She had not in the past cared much for her aunts'
+household. The elderly maiden ladies were "the dearest creatures," she
+told herself; but they were not interesting. Aunt Jane was always
+engaged in knitting with red wool, any fragments of attention which
+could be given from that task being devoted to Molossus, the toy
+terrier, who almost dwelt in her lap. Aunt Ruth was equally devoted in
+the matter of embroidery, and in the watchful eye she kept upon the
+movements of Scipio, a Persian cat of lofty lineage and austere mien.</p>
+
+<p>Their other interests were few, and were mainly centred upon their
+pensioners amongst the poor. Their friends were of their own generation.
+Thus in the past Claudia had not felt any eager yearning for the house
+in St. John's Wood, where the sisters dwelt at peace. But it was
+otherwise now, because Claudia had new designs upon London.</p>
+
+<p>She confided to her mother her readiness to accept the recent
+invitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Go, my dear, by all means," said the invalid; "I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>am sure you must want
+a change, especially after so many weeks of looking after me."</p>
+
+<p>"Pinsett," said Claudia, salving her own conscience, "is so very careful
+and efficient."</p>
+
+<p>"And so good," added Mrs. Haberton; "you may be sure I shall be safe in
+her hands."</p>
+
+<p>For the moment Claudia was sensible of a little pang. Ought she to be so
+readily dispensed with? Were her services a quantity which could be
+neglected?</p>
+
+<p>But, after all, this was nothing. She did not neglect her mother; that
+was out of the question.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Up to Town</div>
+
+<p>So it was agreed that Claudia should go. Aunt Jane wrote a letter
+expressing her joy at the prospect, and Aunt Ruth added a postscript
+which was as long as the letter, confirming all that her sister had
+said.</p>
+
+<p>So Claudia went up to town, and was received with open arms by her
+aunts.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The placid household at St. John's Wood was all the brighter for
+Claudia's presence; but she could not suffer herself to remain for more
+than a day or two in the light of an ordinary visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"I came this time, you know," she early explained to Aunt Jane, "on a
+voyage of exploration."</p>
+
+<p>"Of what, my dear?" said Aunt Jane, to whom great London was still a
+fearsome place, full of grievous peril.</p>
+
+<p>"Of exploration, you know. I am going to look up a few old friends, and
+see how they live. They are working women, who&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Aunt Jane, "do you think you ought to go amongst the poor
+alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, they aren't poor in that sense, auntie; they are just single women,
+old acquaintances of mine&mdash;schoolfellows indeed&mdash;who have to work for
+their living. I want to see them again, and find out how they get on,
+whether they have found their place in life, and are happy."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Jane was not wholly satisfied; but Claudia <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>was not in her teens,
+nor was she a stranger to London. So the scheme was passed, and all the
+more readily because Claudia explained that she did not mean to make her
+calls at random.</p>
+
+<p>Her first voyage was to the flat in which Babette Irving and her friend
+lived. It was in Bloomsbury, and not in a pile of new buildings. In
+old-fashioned phraseology, Miss Irving and her friend would have been
+said to have taken "unfurnished apartments," into which they had moved
+their own possessions. It was a dull house in a dull side street.</p>
+
+<p>Babette said that Lord Macaulay in his younger days was a familiar
+figure in their region, since Zachary Macaulay had lived in a house hard
+by. That was interesting, but did not compensate for the dinginess of
+the surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>Babette herself looked older.</p>
+
+<p>"Worry, my dear, worry," was the only explanation she offered of the
+fact. It seemed ample.</p>
+
+<p>Her room was not decked out with all the prettiness Claudia, with a
+remembrance of other days, had looked for. Babette seemed to make the
+floor her waste-paper basket; and there was a shocking contempt for
+appearance in the way books and papers littered chairs and tables. Nor
+did Babette talk with enthusiasm of her work.</p>
+
+<p>"Enjoy it?" she said, in answer to a question. "I sometimes wish I might
+never see pen, ink, and paper again. That is why I am overdone. But I am
+ashamed to say it; for I magnify my office as a working woman, and am
+thankful to be independent."</p>
+
+<p>"But I thought literary people had such a pleasure in their gift," said
+Claudia.</p>
+
+<p>"Very likely&mdash;those eminent persons who tell the interviewers they never
+write more than five hundred words a day. But I am only a hewer of wood
+and a drawer of water, so to speak."</p>
+
+<p>"But the thought of being useful!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and the thought&mdash;&mdash;but here is Susie."</p>
+
+<p>Susie was the friend who taught singing. Claudia <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>thought she had never
+seen a woman look more exhausted; but Claudia knew so little of life.</p>
+
+<p>"You have had a long day, my dear," said Babette, as Susie threw herself
+into a chair; "it is your journey to the poles, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"To the poles?" said Claudia.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; this is the day she has to be at a Hampstead school from 9.30 till
+12.30, and at a Balham school from 2.30 till 4. It's rather a drive to
+do it, since they are as far as the poles asunder."</p>
+
+<p>"Still," said Claudia, "railway travelling must rest you."</p>
+
+<p>"Not very much," said Susie, "when you travel third class and the trains
+are crowded."</p>
+
+<p>"But it must be so nice to feel that you are really filling a useful
+position in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that I am," said Susie, rather wearily. "A good many of my
+pupils have no ear, and had far better be employed at something else."</p>
+
+<p>"But your art!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid few of them think much about that, and what I have to do is
+to see that the parents are well enough pleased to keep their girls on
+at singing. I do my best for them; but one gets tired."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Another Surprise</div>
+
+<p>Claudia did not reply. This seemed a sadly mercenary view of work, and a
+little shocked her. But then Claudia had not to earn her own living.</p>
+
+<p>Claudia's inquiries of Sarah Griffin were scarcely more cheerful. Sarah
+was at the shop from 8.30 until 7, and was unable, therefore, to see her
+friend during the day. Aunt Jane and Aunt Ruth insisted that Sarah
+should spend the evening at St. John's Wood, and promised that she
+should leave early in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>She came. Again Claudia marvelled at the change in her friend. Already
+she seemed ten years older than her age; her clothes, if neat, cried
+aloud of a narrow purse. She had lost a good deal of the brightness
+which once marked her, and had gathered instead a patient, worn look
+which had a pathos of its own.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Sarah did not announce her poverty, but under the sympathetic hands of
+Aunt Ruth and Aunt Jane she in time poured out the history of her daily
+life.</p>
+
+<p>She was thankful to be in work, even though it was poorly paid. When
+first in search of occupation, she had spent three weary weeks in going
+from one house of business to another. In some she was treated
+courteously, in a few kindly, in many coarsely, in some insultingly. But
+that was nothing; Sarah knew of girls, far more tenderly reared than she
+had been, whose experiences had been even sadder.</p>
+
+<p>But Claudia hoped that now Sarah really was at work she was comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>Sarah smiled a little wintry smile. Yes, she was comfortable, and very
+thankful to be at work.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Jane with many apologies wanted more detail.</p>
+
+<p>Then it appeared that Sarah was living on 15s. a week. She lived at a
+home for young women in business; she fed chiefly on bread and butter.
+Her clothes depended upon occasional gifts from friends.</p>
+
+<p>Claudia began to condemn the world for its hardness.</p>
+
+<p>"But I am not clever," said Sarah; "I can do nothing in particular, and
+there are so many of us wanting work."</p>
+
+<p>"And do all these people really need it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and we all think it hard when girls come and, for the mere
+pleasure of doing something, take such work at a lower wage than those
+can take who must live."</p>
+
+<p>"But look at me," said Claudia; "I don't want the money, but I want the
+occupation; I want to feel I have some definite duties, and some place
+of my own in the world."</p>
+
+<p>Sarah looked a little puzzled. Then she said, "Perhaps Mrs. Warwick
+could help you."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Mrs. Warwick?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Warwick is the presiding genius of a ladies' club to which some of
+my friends go. I daresay one of them will be very glad to take us
+there."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>So they agreed to go. Claudia felt, it must be owned, a little
+disappointed at what she had heard from her friends, but was inclined to
+believe that between the old life at home and the drudgery for the bare
+means of existence there still lay many things which she could do. She
+revolved the subject in the course of a morning walk on the day they
+were to visit the club, and returned to the shelter of her aunts' home
+with something of her old confidence restored.</p>
+
+<p>Despite their goodness&mdash;Claudia could not question that&mdash;how poor, she
+thought, looked their simple ways! Aunt Jane sat, as aforetime, at one
+side of the fireplace, Aunt Ruth at the other. Aunt Jane was knitting
+with red wool, as she had always knitted since Claudia had known her.
+Aunt Ruth, with an equal devotion to habit, was working her way through
+a piece of embroidery. Molossus, the toy terrier, was asleep in Aunt
+Jane's lap; Scipio reposed luxuriously at Aunt Ruth's feet.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Mild Excitement</div>
+
+<p>It was a peaceful scene; yet it had its mild excitements. The two aunts
+began at once to explain.</p>
+
+<p>"We are so glad you are come in," said Aunt Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Because old Rooker has been," said Aunt Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>"And with such good news! He has heard from his boy&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"His boy, you know, who ran away," continued Aunt Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>"He is coming home in a month or two, just to see his father, and is
+then going back again&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Back again to America, you know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Where he is doing well&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And he sends his father five pounds&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And now the old man says he will not need our half-a-crown a week any
+longer&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"So we can give it to old Mrs. Wimple, his neighbour&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A great sufferer, you know, and oh, so patient."</p>
+
+<p>"Really!" said Claudia, a little confused by this antiphonal kind of
+narrative.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes," continued Aunt Jane, "and I see a letter has come in for
+you&mdash;from home, I think. So this has been quite an eventful morning."</p>
+
+<p>Claudia took the letter and went up to her own room, reflecting a little
+ungratefully upon the contentment which reigned below.</p>
+
+<p>She opened her letter. It was, she saw, from her mother, written,
+apparently, at two or three sittings, for the last sheet contained a
+most voluminous postscript. She read the opening page of salutation, and
+then laid it down to prepare for luncheon. Musing as she went about her
+room, time slipped away, and the gong was rumbling out its call before
+she was quite ready to go down.</p>
+
+<p>She hurried away, and the letter was left unfinished. It caught her eye
+in the afternoon; but again Claudia was hurried, and resolved that it
+could very well wait until she returned at night.</p>
+
+<p>The club was amusing. Mrs. Warwick, its leading spirit, pleasantly
+mingled a certain motherly sympathy with an unconventional habit of
+manner and speech. There was an address or lecture during the evening by
+a middle-aged woman of great fluency, who rather astounded Claudia by
+the freest possible assumption, and by the most sweeping criticism of
+the established order of things as it affected women. The general
+conversation of the members seemed, however, no less frivolous, though
+much less restrained, than she had heard in drawing-rooms at home.</p>
+
+<p>She parted from Sarah Griffin at the door of the club, and drove to St.
+John's Wood in a hansom. The repose of the house had not been stirred in
+her absence. Aunt Jane, Aunt Ruth, Molossus, and Scipio, all were in
+their accustomed places.</p>
+
+<p>"And here is another letter for you, my dear," said Aunt Jane. "I hope
+the other brought good news?"</p>
+
+<p>Claudia blushed a healthy, honest, old-fashioned blush. She had
+forgotten that letter. Its opening page or so had alone been glanced
+at.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Aunt Jane looked astonished at the confession, but with her placid
+good-nature added: "Of course, my dear, it was the little excitement of
+this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"So natural to young heads," said Aunt Ruth, with a shake of her curls.</p>
+
+<p>But Claudia was ashamed of herself, and ran upstairs for the first
+letter.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Startling News</div>
+
+<p>A hasty glance showed her that, whilst it began in ordinary gossip, the
+long postscript dealt with a more serious subject. Mr. Haberton was ill;
+he had driven home late at night from a distance, and had taken a chill.
+Mrs. Haberton hoped it would pass off; Claudia was not to feel alarmed;
+Pinsett had again proved herself invaluable, and between them they could
+nurse the patient comfortably.</p>
+
+<p>Claudia hastened to the second letter. Her fears were justified. Her
+father was worse; pneumonia had set in; the doctor was anxious; they
+were trying to secure a trained nurse; perhaps Claudia would like to
+return as soon as she got the letter.</p>
+
+<p>"When did this come?" asked Claudia eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"A very few moments after you left," said Aunt Jane. "Of course, if you
+had been here, you might just have caught the eight o'clock train&mdash;very
+late, my dear, for you to go by, but with your father so ill&mdash;&mdash;" And
+Aunt Jane wiped a tear away.</p>
+
+<p>Claudia also wept.</p>
+
+<p>"Can nothing be done to-night?" she presently cried. "<i>Must</i> I wait till
+to-morrow? He may be&mdash;&mdash;" But she did not like to finish the sentence.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Ruth had risen to the occasion; she was already adjusting her
+spectacles with trembling hands in order to explore the <i>A&nbsp;B&nbsp;C
+Timetable</i>. A very brief examination of the book showed that Claudia
+could not get home that night. They could only wait until morning.</p>
+
+<p>Claudia spent a sleepless night. She had come up to London to find a
+mission in life. The first great sorrow had fallen upon her home in her
+absence, and by an inexcusable preoccupation she had perhaps made <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>it
+impossible to reach home before her father's death.</p>
+
+<p>She knew that pneumonia often claimed its victims swiftly; she might
+reach home too late.</p>
+
+<p>Her father had been good to her in his own rather stern way. He was not
+a small, weak, or peevish character. To have helped him in sickness
+would have seemed a pleasant duty even to Claudia, who had contrived to
+overlook her mother's frail health. And others were serving him&mdash;that
+weak mother; Pinsett, too; and perhaps a hired nurse. It was unbearable.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," said Aunt Jane, as Claudia wept aloud, "we are in our
+heavenly Father's hands; let us ask Him to keep your dear father at
+least until you see him."</p>
+
+<p>So those two old maids with difficulty adjusted their stiff knees to
+kneeling, and, as Aunt Jane lifted her quavering voice in a few
+sentences of simple prayer, she laid a trembling hand protectingly on
+Claudia.</p>
+
+<p>Would that night never go? Its hours to Claudia seemed weeks. The shock
+of an impending loss would of itself have been hard enough to bear; but
+to remember that by her own indifference to home she had perhaps missed
+seeing her father again alive&mdash;that was worse than all.</p>
+
+<p>And then, as she thought of the sick-room, she remembered her mother.
+How had she contrived for years not to see that in the daily care of
+that patient woman there lay the first call for a dutiful daughter?</p>
+
+<p>It was noble to work; and there <i>was</i> a work for every one to do.</p>
+
+<p>But why had she foolishly gone afield to look for occupation and a place
+in life, when an obvious duty and a post she alone could best fill lay
+at home? If God would only give her time to amend!</p>
+
+<p>It was a limp, tear-stained, and humbled Claudia who reached home by the
+first train the next morning.</p>
+
+<p>Her father was alive&mdash;that was granted to her. Her mother had borne up
+bravely, but the struggle was obvious.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A nurse was in possession of the sick-chamber, and Claudia could only
+look on where often she fain would have been the chief worker.</p>
+
+<p>But the room for amendment was provided. Mr. Haberton recovered very
+slowly, and was warned always to use the utmost care. Mrs. Haberton,
+when the worst of her husband's illness was over, showed signs of
+collapse herself.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A New Ministry</div>
+
+<p>Claudia gave herself up to a new ministry. Her mother no longer called
+for Pinsett; Mr. Haberton found an admirable successor to his trained
+nurse.</p>
+
+<p>Claudia had found her place, and in gratitude to God resolved to give
+the fullest obedience to the ancient precept: "If any have children . . .
+let them learn first to show piety at home, and to requite their
+parents."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Famous Women Pioneers</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Frank Elias</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Women explorers have been the helpers of men, and spurred
+them on towards their goals. Some such workers are here recalled.</div>
+
+<p>A great deal has been said and written about the men who, in times past,
+opened up vast tracts of the unknown, and, by so doing, prepared new
+homes for their countrymen from England. Park and Livingstone, Raleigh
+and Flinders&mdash;the names of these and many more are remembered with
+gratitude wherever the English tongue is spoken.</p>
+
+<p>Less often perhaps do we remember that there have been not only
+strong-willed and adventurous men but brave and enduring women who have
+gone where scarcely any white folks went before them, and who, while
+doing so, bore without complaint hardships no less severe than those
+endured by male pioneers.</p>
+
+<p>To the shores of Cape Cod there came, on November 11, 1620, a little
+leaky ship, torn by North Atlantic gales and with sides shattered by
+North Atlantic rollers. Standing shivering upon her decks stood groups
+of men and women, plainly not sailor-folk, worn by a long voyage, and
+waiting to step upon a shore of which they knew no more than that it was
+inhabited by unmerciful savages and overlaid by dense <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>forests. The
+first must be conciliated, and the second, to some extent at least,
+cleared away before there could be any hope of settlement.</p>
+
+<p>What pictures of happy homes in the Old Country, with their green little
+gardens and honeysuckle creepers, rose up in the memory of those
+delicate women as they eyed the bleak, unfriendly shore! Yet, though the
+cold bit them and the unknown yawned before, they did not flinch, but
+waited for the solemn moment of landing.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The "Mayflower"</div>
+
+<p>Perhaps a little of what they did that day they knew. Yet could they, we
+wonder, have realised that in quitting England with their husbands and
+fathers in order, with them, to worship God according to the manner
+bidden by their conscience, they were giving themselves a name glorious
+among women? Or that, because of them and theirs, the name of the little
+tattered, battered ship they were soon to leave, after weary months of
+danger from winds and seas, was to live as long as history. Thousands of
+great ships have gone out from England since the day on which the
+"Mayflower" sailed from Plymouth, yet which of them had a name like
+hers?</p>
+
+<p>Tried as the "Mayflower" women were, their trials were only beginning.
+Even while they waited for their husbands to find a place of settlement,
+one of their number, wife of William Bradford&mdash;a man later to be their
+governor&mdash;fell overboard and was drowned. When they did at last land
+they had to face, not only the terrors of a North American winter, but
+sickness brought on by the hard work and poor food following the effects
+of overcrowding on the voyage.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the death-rate in this small village amounted to as much as two to
+three persons a day. Wolves howled at night, Indians crept out to spy
+from behind trees, cruel winds shook their frail wooden houses and froze
+the dwellers in them, but the courage of the women pioneers of New
+England never faltered, and when, one by one, they died, worn out by
+hardship, they had done their noble part in building an altar <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>to Him
+whom, in their own land, they had not been permitted to serve as they
+would.</p>
+
+<p>For many years the task of helping to found settlements was the only
+work done by women in the way of opening up new territory. In the
+seventeenth and eighteenth centuries most of our discoveries were still
+those of the mariner, who could scarcely take his wife to sea. But in
+the nineteenth came the rise of foreign missions, as well as the
+acknowledgment of the need of inland exploration, and in this work the
+explorer's wife often shared in the risks and adventures of her husband.</p>
+
+<p>When Robert Moffat began his missionary labours in South Africa in 1816,
+he had not only to preach the gospel to what were often bloodthirsty
+savages, but he had to plunge into the unknown. Three years later he
+married Mary Smith, who was henceforth to be his companion in all his
+journeys, and to face, with a courage not less than his own, the
+tropical heat, the poisonous insects, the savage beasts, the fierce
+natives of a territory untrod by the white man, and who had to do all
+this in a day before medicine had discovered cures for jungle-sickness
+and poisons, before invention had improved methods of travel, and before
+knowledge had been able to prepare maps or to write guides.</p>
+
+<p>It was the daughter of Mary Moffat who became the wife of the greatest
+of all explorers, David Livingstone, and who like her mother, was to set
+her foot where no white men or women had stood before.</p>
+
+<p>Their first home was at Mabotsa, about two hundred miles from what is
+now the city of Pretoria. But soon Livingstone began the series of
+journeys which was to make his name famous. With his wife he travelled
+in a roomy wagon, drawn by bullocks at a rate of about two miles an
+hour. But they often suffered intensely from the heat and the scarcity
+of water. Then the mosquitoes were always troublesome, and frequently
+even the slow progress they were making would be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>interrupted by the
+death of one of the bullocks, killed by the deadly tsetse. At other
+times they would halt before a dense bunch of trees, and would have to
+stop until a clearing had been cut through.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the life of Mrs. Livingstone during her first years in Africa.
+For a time, following this, she lived in England with her children, and
+had there to endure sufferings greater than any she had shared with her
+husband, for during most of her time at home Livingstone was cut off
+from the world in the middle of Africa. When he reached the coast once
+more she went back to him, unable to endure the separation longer.</p>
+
+<p>But, soon after landing, her health gave way. At the end of April her
+condition was hopeless; she lay upon "a rude bed formed of boxes, but
+covered with a soft mattress," and thus, her husband beside her, she
+died in the heart of the great continent for which she and those most
+dear to her had spent themselves.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Lady Baker</div>
+
+<p>An even greater African explorer than Mrs. Livingstone was Lady Baker,
+wife of Sir Samuel Baker. She was a Hungarian, and married Baker in
+1860, when he had already done some colonisation work by settling a
+number of Englishmen in Ceylon. In the year following their marriage,
+the Bakers went to Egypt, determined to clear up that greatest of all
+mysteries to African explorers&mdash;the secret of the Nile sources. Arrived
+at Khartoum, they fitted out an expedition and set off up the river with
+twenty-nine camels.</p>
+
+<p>One day, as they pushed on slowly in that silent, burning land, they
+heard that white men were approaching; and sure enough, there soon
+appeared before them the figures of Speke and Grant, two well-known
+explorers who had gone out a year before and whom many feared to have
+been lost. These men had found the source of the Nile in the Victoria
+Nyanza. But they told the Bakers a wonderful story of how they had heard
+rumours from time to time of the existence of another lake into which
+the Nile was said to flow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The minds of Baker and his wife were fired to emulation. Parting from
+their newly-met countrymen, they pressed onwards and southwards. They
+had to go a long distance out of their way to avoid the slave-traders
+who were determined to wreck their plans if they could.</p>
+
+<p>"We have heard a good deal recently of lady travellers in Africa," said
+the <i>Times</i> a long time afterwards, "but their work has been mere
+child's play compared with the trials which Lady Baker had to undergo in
+forcing her way into a region absolutely unknown and bristling with
+dangers of every kind."</p>
+
+<p>But after encountering many adventures, the determined traveller and his
+brave wife at last reached the top of a slope from which, on looking
+down, they saw a vast inland ocean. No eye of white man had ever beheld
+this lake before, and to Lady Baker, not less than to her husband,
+belongs the glory of the discovery of the lake which all the world knows
+to-day as the Albert Nyanza.</p>
+
+<p>"Thus," to quote an earlier passage in the same <i>Times</i> article, "amid
+many hardships and at the frequent risk of death at the hands of Arab
+slavers and hostile chiefs, Baker and his wife forged one of the most
+important links in the course of one of the world's most famous rivers."</p>
+
+<p>After many further difficulties, the explorers found their way back to
+the coast, and thence to England. But their fame had gone before them,
+and everywhere they were welcomed. And though it was Baker who was
+awarded a gold medal by the Royal Geographical Society, all must have
+felt that the honour belonged, not less, to his courageous wife.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Mary Kingsley</div>
+
+<p>It may be said that Lady Baker was not alone in her journeys. On the
+other hand, Mary Kingsley, another woman African traveller, led her own
+expeditions. Moreover, her travelling was often done through territory
+reeking with disease. At the age of twenty-nine she explored the Congo
+River, and visited Old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> Calabar, and in 1894 ascended the mountain of
+Mungo Mah Lobeh. After her return to England she lectured upon her
+adventures. One more journey, this time not of exploration, was she to
+make to the great African continent. In 1900 she volunteered as a nurse
+during the war, and went out to the Cape. Here she was employed to nurse
+sick Boer prisoners. But her work was done. Enteric fever struck her
+down and, before long, the traveller had set out upon her last journey.</p>
+
+<p>The names we have mentioned have been those of famous travellers&mdash;women
+whose work is part of the history of discovery. But there are hundreds
+of courageous women to-day, not perhaps engaged in exploration, but who,
+nevertheless, are living in remote stations in the heart of Africa, in
+the midst of the Australian "never-never," in the lonely islands of the
+Pacific&mdash;women whose husbands, whose fathers, whose brothers are
+carrying on the work of Empire, or the greater work of the gospel.</p>
+
+<p>Often one of these women is the only white person of her sex for
+hundreds of miles. Perhaps she is the first who has ever set foot in the
+region wherein she lives. Yet her courage does not fail. When, as
+sometimes she does, she writes a book describing her adventures, it is
+sure to be full of high spirits and amusing descriptions of the
+primitive methods of cooking and housekeeping to which she must submit.
+The other side of the picture, the loneliness, the intense heat or cold,
+the mosquitoes or other pests, the compulsion, through absence of
+assistance, to do what at home could be done by a servant&mdash;all this is
+absent.</p>
+
+<p>Women may have changed, but certainly woman in the difficult places of
+the Empire, whether she be missionary, squatter, or consul's wife, has
+lost nothing in courage, in perseverance, in cheerful or even smiling
+submission to hard conditions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Poor Jane's Brother</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Marie F. Salton</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">A rural story this&mdash;of adventurous youngsters and a pathetic
+figure that won their sympathy.</div>
+
+<p>Ever since the twins could remember Poor Jane had lived in the village.
+In fact, she had lived there all her life, though one could not expect
+the twins to remember that, for they were very young indeed, and Poor
+Jane was quite old.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Jane did not dress like other folks. Her boots were so large and
+sloppy that her feet seemed to shake about in them, and she shuffled
+along the ground when she walked. These boots could never have been
+cleaned since Jane had had them, and the twins firmly believed that they
+always had been that queer dust-colour, until one day Nan told them that
+when they were quite new they were black and shiny like ordinary boots.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Jane always wore a brown, muddy, gingham skirt, frayed and
+tattered, and the torn pieces hung like a frill from her knees to the
+tops of her dust-coloured boots. Over her chest she wore a dark-grey
+woollen cross-over, and on her head was a dirty shawl, which hung down
+her back, and was pinned across her breast. Little straw-like wisps of
+straight brown hair stuck out from under the shawl over her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>forehead
+and ears. Her face was dried up and shrivelled, and her cheek-bones were
+so sharp that they tried to prick through the skin.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Jane did not often wash, so her wrinkles, and what Dumpty called
+her "laughing lines," were marked quite black with dirt. Her lips were
+not rosy and fresh like mummie's or Dumpty's, but they were of a
+purple-grey colour, and when she opened her mouth, instead of a row of
+pearly white teeth showing, there was only one very large yellow tooth,
+which looked as if it could not stay much longer in the gum.</p>
+
+<p>The twins always thought that she must live on milk, as babies do before
+they have any teeth, but to their amazement they heard that last
+Christmas, at the Old People's Tea, Poor Jane had eaten two plates of
+salt beef.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think she sucked it?" Dumpty asked her brother that evening when
+nurse was safely out of the way. Humpty asked daddy the next day at
+lunch how old people managed to eat when they had only one tooth.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Humpty's Experiment</div>
+
+<p>Daddy said they "chewed," and showed Humpty how it was done, and there
+was a scene that afternoon in the nursery at tea, when Humpty practised
+"chewing" his bread and honey. And in the end Dumpty went down alone to
+the drawing-room for games that evening, with this message from Nan:
+"Master Humphrey has behaved badly at the tea-table, and been sent to
+bed."</p>
+<div><a name="barbara" id="barbara"></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 251px;">
+<img src="images/17.jpg" width="251" height="400" alt="BARBARA&#39;S VISIT." title="BARBARA&#39;S VISIT." />
+<span class="caption">BARBARA&#39;S VISIT.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>But although the children met Poor Jane every time that they went into
+the village they had never once spoken to her. That was because she was
+not one of nurse's friends, like old Mrs. Jenks, whom Barbara, the
+twins' elder sister, visited every week with flowers or fruit or other
+good things. Nan considered that Poor Jane was too dirty for one of her
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Jane was so interesting because she had so much to say to herself,
+and, as daddy said, "gibbered like a monkey" when she walked alone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All day long she would wander up and down the village street, and when
+the children came out of school and the boys began to tease, she would
+curl her long black-nailed fingers&mdash;which were so like birds' claws&mdash;at
+her persecutors, and would run towards them as if she meant to scratch
+out their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Early last spring the twins met with their first real adventure. They
+had had lots of little adventures before, such as the time when Humpty
+fell into the pond at his cousins' and was nearly drowned, and when
+Dumpty had a tooth drawn, and because she was brave and did not make a
+fuss, daddy and mummie each presented her with a shilling, and even the
+dentist gave her a penny and a ride in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>But this time it was a real adventure because every one&mdash;twins
+included&mdash;was frightened.</p>
+
+<p>The twins had just recovered from bad colds in their heads, which they
+had passed on to all the grown-ups in the house, and a cold in the head
+makes grown-ups particularly cross, so the twins found.</p>
+
+<p>Mum came up to the nursery with a very hoarse voice and streaming eyes,
+but when she saw Nan she forgot about her own cold, and said that Nan
+must go to bed at once, and have something warm to drink, and put a nice
+hot-water bottle between the sheets. For a long time Nan said that
+nothing would make her go to bed, but at last mum, who is very sweet,
+and of whom Nan is really quite afraid, persuaded her to lie down, and
+herself brought up a dose of quinine.</p>
+
+<p>It had rained all the morning, but the sun was shining so brightly now
+that the twins stood looking longingly out of the nursery window, while
+mummie helped Nan into bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Can we go out, mum?" asked Humpty.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no one to take you out, darling," said mummie thoughtfully;
+"but it is so nice and sunny now that I think you ought to go. It is too
+wet to play in the garden, and if you go alone you must <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>promise to
+walk along the road to the end of the village, and straight back again.
+Now, remember to walk where it is clean and dry, and keep moving, and do
+not stop to play with the puddles, and when you come in you shall have
+tea with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Hooray!" shouted the children; "two treats in one afternoon!"</p>
+
+<p>It did not take the twins long to get ready for their walk that
+afternoon. They were so excited, for they had never been out alone for a
+walk before, though, of course, they used to play by themselves in the
+garden.</p>
+
+<p>Each was inwardly hoping that they might meet Poor Jane, and so they
+did. As they came out of the drive gate they saw Poor Jane shuffling
+quickly up the road.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's walk slowly," whispered Dumpty, quivering with excitement, "and
+perhaps she will catch us up."</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes the old woman had overtaken them.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Jane's New Gloves</div>
+
+<p>All Nurse's injunctions were forgotten. The children stood still and
+stared, for Poor Jane was wearing a pair of brand new, red woollen
+gloves! Poor Jane saw them looking, and she crossed from the other side
+of the road and came near the children. Dumpty gave a little scream of
+terror, but Humpty caught her by the hand, so that she could not run
+away.</p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon," he said; "what nice red gloves you have!"</p>
+
+<p>The old woman looked at her hands with great pride. "Beautiful red
+gloves," she said, spreading out her fingers. "I had the chilblains bad,
+so Mrs. Duke gave 'em to me. Beautiful red gloves!" She began cackling
+to herself, staring hard at the children as she did so. She had brown,
+staring eyes that looked very large and fierce in her thin face.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's your nuss?" she asked, beginning to walk along by the side of
+the children.</p>
+
+<p>"Our what?" asked Dumpty, puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"She means nurse," said Humpty, with great <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>emphasis. "Nan is ill with a
+cold in her head," he explained, "and mum has just made her go to bed
+and drink hot milk."</p>
+
+<p>"I often see ye passin'," said Poor Jane conversationally.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Humpty, who was still holding his sister's hand tight, "we
+often come this way for a walk, and we always see you."</p>
+
+<p>"You always walk this way, don't you?" said Dumpty bravely, though she
+still trembled with fright.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I allus come along 'ere, every day, wet or fine."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" asked Humpty, who had an inquiring mind.</p>
+
+<p>Then the old woman seized him by the arm. Humpty turned white with
+terror, but his courage did not forsake him.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" he repeated boldly.</p>
+
+<p>The old woman pinched his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you know why I come here?" she asked, her voice getting shriller
+and shriller; "don't you know why I walk up and down this road every
+day, fine or wet, through snow and hail?" She lowered her voice
+mysteriously, and clutched hold of Dumpty, who could not help shrieking.
+"You're a lucky little miss; you keep your brother as long as you can.
+Ah! my poor brother, my poor brother!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is your brother dead?" asked Dumpty sympathetically. She was not so
+frightened now, for although the old woman still held her pretty tight
+she did not look as if she meant to hurt them.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he is alive! He is alive! They tell me he is dead, but I know
+better. A circus came to Woodstead" (the little shopping-town two miles
+from the village), "and he joined that&mdash;he had to go; the circus
+people&mdash;they was gipsies most of 'em&mdash;forced him&mdash;and he 'ad to go; 'e
+is a clown now."</p>
+
+<p>"A clown!" cried the twins.</p>
+
+<p>"Yus, and they won't let 'im come back to his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>poor old Jane. They're a
+keepin' us apart, they're a keepin' us apart!" And her voice died away
+in a wail. She stopped in the middle of the road.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Jane!" whispered Dumpty; "poor Jane! I am so sorry"; but Jane took
+no more notice of them, but went on murmuring to herself, "Keepin' us
+apart&mdash;keepin' us apart."</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, Dump," said Humpty at last; "it's no good staying, she doesn't
+seem to want us." Dumpty joined him, and there were tears in her eyes.
+What Poor Jane had said was so very, very sad. The twins had so much to
+think about now that they talked very little during their walk, but when
+they did, it was all about Poor Jane and her brother, who was the clown
+in a circus.</p>
+
+<p>When they got home the children had tea and games downstairs, and
+altogether it was great fun, but they did not mention their meeting with
+Poor Jane. That was their secret.</p>
+
+<p>For days afterwards they talked it over and wondered whether Jane would
+speak to them the next time they met on the road, but when they went
+down the village again with nurse the old woman passed them by without a
+sign of recognition.</p>
+
+<p>Three months passed and June had come, and one day Nan and the children
+went down to the village shop to buy slate-pencils.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Mrs. Moses' Question</div>
+
+<p>"Are you taking the children to the circus?" asked Mrs. Moses, the
+shopwoman.</p>
+
+<p>The twins pricked up their ears.</p>
+
+<p>"When is it?" asked Nan.</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow, at Woodstead," answered Mrs. Moses; and she showed the
+children two large bills with pictures on them, of a beautiful young
+lady with yellow hair, who was walking on a tight-rope, a dark lady
+balancing herself on a golden globe, a young man riding, bare-back, on a
+fierce white horse, and a lion jumping through flames of fire, while in
+the corner was the picture of a clown grinning through a hoop.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Nan!" said Humpty, when they were outside, "can we go?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall ask mummie when we get home what she thinks about it," said
+nurse, "but you are not to be disappointed or cross if she won't let
+you."</p>
+
+<p>That evening when mummie came up to bid good-night to the twins in bed
+they were told that they might go. Nurse had been promised to-morrow
+off, so that she might have tea with her sister, who lived at Woodstead,
+but she had very kindly said that she would be quite willing to take the
+twins with her, and put them into seats in the circus, and then she
+would come for them at the end of the performance.</p>
+
+<p>The twins were delighted, and almost too excited to speak. After mummie
+had gone they lay awake thinking.</p>
+
+<p>"Humpty," said Dumpty presently, "what are you thinking about?"</p>
+
+<p>"The circus," answered Humpty promptly.</p>
+
+<p>"And I," said Dumpty pensively&mdash;"I have been thinking about Poor Jane."</p>
+
+<p>"I have been thinking about her lots too," said Humpty.</p>
+
+<p>"And oh, Humpty! supposing the clown should be her brother, what should
+we do?"</p>
+
+<p>"We should bring him back to Poor Jane of course," said Humpty.</p>
+
+<p>"But how shall we know whether he is her brother?"</p>
+
+<p>"He will look like her, of course, stupid," replied Humpty, a little
+crossly, for he was beginning to feel sleepy.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">At the Circus</div>
+
+<p>They had an early dinner next day, and then Edward brought the pony
+round to the door, and they set off for Woodstead. Nurse was looking
+very smart in a black bonnet and silk mantle, and the children felt
+almost as if she were a stranger. Soon they came to a large meadow,
+where stood a great tent with steps leading up to it, and a man stood on
+the top <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>of the steps beating a drum and crying, "Children half-price!
+Walk up! Walk up!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a nice man inside, who led the children past rows of bare
+seats, raised one above the other, till he came to a part which was
+curtained off from the rest. He drew the curtain to one side to let the
+children pass in, and they saw four rows of comfortable seats with
+backs, covered with scarlet cloth.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, these will do nicely," said Nan; "and now, children, you must sit
+here quietly till the circus is over, and I shall come and fetch you at
+half-past four."</p>
+
+<p>The children now had time to look about. A large plot of grass had been
+encircled with a low wooden fence, hung with more red cloth. Inside this
+ring some of the grass had been taken up, so that there was a narrow
+path where the horses would canter right round the ring. Quite close to
+the children was an elegant carriage&mdash;wagon-shaped&mdash;where the musicians
+sat, and made a great noise with their instruments. One of the men
+played the drum and cymbals at the same time. On their right the tent
+was open and led out on to the meadow, and this was the entrance for the
+horses and performers.</p>
+
+<p>After playing the same tune through seven times, the band changed its
+music and began a quick, lively air, and in came trotting, mounted on a
+black horse with a white nose, a rather elderly lady with golden hair.
+She did not sit on an ordinary saddle, but on what appeared to be an
+oval tea-tray covered with blue satin. Behind her followed a serious,
+dignified gentleman, who was busily cracking a long whip. His name, the
+twins soon learned, was Mr. Brooks, for so all the performers addressed
+him.</p>
+
+<p>The lady rode twice round the ring, and on dismounting kissed her hands
+to the audience in a friendly manner.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to introduce to you, ladies and gentlemen, my wonderful
+performing horse Diamond. Diamond, make your bow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Whereupon Diamond&mdash;with some difficulty&mdash;bent his knees, and thrust his
+head down to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>The twins were enchanted.</p>
+
+<p>But this was by no means the best of Diamond's accomplishments. By
+looking at a watch he could tell the time, and explained to the audience
+that it was now seventeen minutes past three, by pawing on a plank of
+wood with his hoof three times, and then, after a moment's pause,
+seventeen times. He could shake his head wisely to mean "yes" or "no";
+he could find the lady's pocket-handkerchief amongst the audience, and,
+finally, he refused to leave the ring without his mistress, and when she
+showed no sign of accompanying him, he trotted behind her, and pushed
+her out with his soft white nose.</p>
+
+<p>Next an acrobat came somersaulting in. He did all sorts of strange
+things, such as balancing himself upside down on the broad shoulders of
+Mr. Brooks, and tying himself into a kind of knot and so entangling his
+limbs that it became impossible to tell the legs from the arms.</p>
+
+<p>After he had gone there was a long pause, and then came tottering in,
+with slow and painful footsteps, an old, old man. He was dressed in a
+dirty black suit, and wore an old battered bowler. His clothes were
+almost in rags, and he had muffled up his face with a long black
+comforter.</p>
+
+<p>A strange hush came over the audience as he sat down in the ring to
+rest, only Humpty and Dumpty leaned forward eagerly to watch. "It is
+Poor Jane's brother," said Humpty very loudly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brooks went up to the tired old man. "I am afraid you are very
+tired, my good man," he said kindly.</p>
+
+<p>"Very tired, very tired indeed, Mr. Brooks," sighed Poor Jane's brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Brooks!" cried the owner of that name, "how, sir, do you know that
+my name is Brooks?" And then a wonderful thing happened. The old man
+sprang <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>to his feet, his rags dropped from him, he tore off the black
+comforter, and behold! he was a clown with a large red nose, who cried,
+"Here we are again!"</p>
+
+<p>How the children laughed and clapped, and how pleased the twins were to
+have discovered Poor Jane's brother!</p>
+
+<p>Oh, the things that clown did! The familiar way in which he spoke to Mr.
+Brooks! The practical jokes that he played on him! Then in trotted old
+Diamond to join in the fun, and here was a chance for the clown to take
+a lesson in riding. He mounted by climbing up the tail, and then he rode
+sitting with his back to the horse's head. He tried standing upright
+whilst Diamond was galloping, but could not keep his balance, and fell
+forward with his arms clasped tightly round the animal's neck. In the
+end Diamond, growing tired of his antics, pitched him over his head, but
+the clown did not seem to mind, for before he had reached the ground he
+turned an immense somersault&mdash;then another&mdash;and the third carried him
+right through the entrance back into the meadow where the caravans were
+standing.</p>
+
+<p>"Humpty," asked Dumpty, "what are we to do?"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">To the Rescue!</div>
+
+<p>"We must go at once and rescue him," answered the boy.</p>
+
+<p>The twins slipped from their seats, and crept to the back of the tent.</p>
+
+<p>"I think we can squeeze under this," said Humpty, as he began wriggling
+under the awning. He then helped Dumpty, who was rather fat, and showed
+signs of getting stuck.</p>
+
+<p>"How cool it is outside!" remarked Dumpty, who had found it hot and
+stifling under the tent. "I would like to know what is going on,
+wouldn't you?" she added, as a peal of merry laughter came from the
+tent.</p>
+
+<p>"We will go back presently," said Humpty; "but we must first find Poor
+Jane's brother."</p>
+
+<p>There were two or three small tents, and one large <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>one, in which the
+horses were stabled. Dumpty longed to stop and talk to a dear little
+piebald pony, but Humpty carried her on till they came to the caravans.</p>
+
+<p>Four or five men were lying face downwards on the grass&mdash;worn out and
+tired. Before the steps of one caravan a group of children were playing,
+whilst one woman in a red shawl sat on the steps smoking a clay pipe,
+and holding a dirty-looking baby in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>The twins stole round the caravan, taking good care not to be seen.
+There was as yet no sign of the clown.</p>
+
+<p>At last they found a smaller caravan which stood apart from the others,
+and the door was ajar. "Perhaps he is in there," suggested Humpty. "I am
+going to see." And he ran up the steps and peeped inside.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do come, Dumpty!" he cried; "it is awfully interesting."</p>
+
+<p>Dumpty tumbled up the steps.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Humpty!" she said, "how lovely!"</p>
+
+<p>It really was a very nice caravan, and spotlessly clean. There were dear
+little red curtains in front of the window and a red mat on the floor.
+All over the wall hung baskets made in pretty green and blue straw of
+all shapes and sizes. On the chair lay a bundle of peacock's feathers.</p>
+
+<p>"These are like what the gipsies sell," remarked Dumpty. A gipsy's
+basket was lying on the floor, in which were tin utensils for cooking,
+and two or three saucepans. Bootlaces had been wound round the handle.</p>
+
+<p>The twins were fascinated, and turned everything over with great
+interest. They found a large cupboard, too, containing all sorts of
+beautiful clothes&mdash;lovely velvet dresses, and robes of gold and silver.</p>
+
+<p>"How dark it is getting!" said Humpty presently; "why did you shut the
+door?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't shut the door," answered Dumpty; "I spect the wind did."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They took a long time in exploring the cupboard. Suddenly Humpty cried,
+"We have forgotten Poor Jane's brother!"</p>
+
+<p>They made a rush for the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, Humpty, will you open it? This handle is stiff."</p>
+
+<p>Humpty pulled and struggled with the handle until he was red in the
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't get it open," he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me try again," said Dumpty, and she pushed and struggled, but to no
+purpose.</p>
+
+<p>For a long time she and Humpty tried alternately to open the door, but
+nothing that they could do was of any avail.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Locked in</div>
+
+<p>"I think it is locked," said Humpty at last, sitting down despondently.
+He was panting breathlessly, and began to swing his legs.</p>
+
+<p>Dumpty's eyes grew wide with terror, her lips trembled.</p>
+
+<p>"Have they locked us in on purpose?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Humpty, "the circus people have locked us in, and they won't
+unlock the door until they have left Woodstead."</p>
+
+<p>"And then?" asked Dumpty.</p>
+
+<p>"Then they will keep us, and never let us come home again&mdash;like they did
+to Poor Jane's brother, and I shall be a bare-back rider, and you will
+wear the blue velvet gown, and ride in the processions on the piebald
+pony."</p>
+
+<p>"And we shall never see mummie or daddy again&mdash;or Nan&mdash;or Poor Jane,"
+said Dumpty, beginning to cry.</p>
+
+<p>"No, we shall never see them again," answered Humpty, swallowing hard to
+keep himself from crying.</p>
+
+<p>Dumpty was crying bitterly now, and the loud sobs shook her small body.
+Humpty looked dismally at his surroundings, and continued to swing his
+legs.</p>
+
+<p>"Give over!" he said to Dumpty, after one of her loudest sobs; "it will
+never do for them to see that you've been crying, or they will be just
+furious."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>After a time Dumpty dried her eyes, and went to the window, and drew
+back the curtains.</p>
+
+<p>"It's getting dark," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Humpty began to whistle. Suddenly he stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"I am getting awful hungry," he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"We shan't have nuffin' to eat until the morning," said Dumpty.</p>
+
+<p>"Humpty," she continued, "would it be any good if we screamed and banged
+the door?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the boy; "if they heard us trying to give the alarm, they
+would be very angry, and perhaps they wouldn't give us anything to eat
+for days&mdash;not until we were nearly dead."</p>
+
+<p>"I think we had better go to sleep," said Dumpty, yawning, and began
+saying her prayers.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes both children were lying fast asleep on the floor of
+the caravan.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"My eye! jest look 'ere, Bill!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" said Bill, gaping open-mouthed at the sight of the
+two children asleep in the caravan.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ow in the world did they get 'ere?" continued the woman who had first
+found them. "Wike up! wike hup!" she cried, giving them each a violent
+shaking.</p>
+
+<p>Humpty began to open his eyes. He stared in astonishment at the people
+round him.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you the circus people?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and who are you, we're wanting to know, and 'ow did you come
+'ere?"</p>
+
+<p>By this time Dumpty was awake. On seeing the strange faces, she
+immediately began to cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't 'e cry, dear," said the woman; "there's no call to be afraid."</p>
+
+<p>But Dumpty still cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you lock us in?" asked Humpty defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe they think as 'ow we locked 'em in for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>the purpose," laughed
+the woman, and then she explained to them what had happened, how they
+always kept this caravan locked, for they did not use it for sleeping or
+living in, but filled it with baskets and tins, which they sold as they
+travelled through the villages. She told the twins, too, that three
+policemen were out searching for them everywhere, and had come to make
+inquiries of her husband, and of the man who sold the tickets, but they
+could tell them nothing. And in their turn the twins had to explain how
+it was that they had found their way into the caravan.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">An Early Breakfast</div>
+
+<p>It was just three o'clock now, and the men were all at work, for by four
+o'clock they must be on the way to the next town, where they were
+"billed" to give a performance that very afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said the woman, "you must 'ave a bite of breakfast, and then
+Bill shall tike you 'ome. What'll your ma and pa say when they see you?
+they'll be mighty pleased, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>The twins had never been up so early in the morning before. They felt
+ill and stiff all over from sleeping on the hard floor, and they were
+very hungry, and cold too, for the morning air seemed chill and biting.</p>
+
+<p>The women had made a fire of sticks, and a great black kettle was
+hanging over it. The water was boiling and bubbling.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the men left their work and came to join in the meal. They all sat
+round the fire on the wet grass, and shared the large, thick mugs of tea
+and sugar, and stared at the little strangers.</p>
+
+<p>All the children were up, too, and rubbed their eyes and tried hard not
+to look sleepy, but the little ones were cross and peevish. Each child
+had a large slice of bread, and a piece of cold pork, and even the
+little, sore-eyed baby held a crust of bread and a piece of pork in his
+hand, which he tried to stuff into his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>The twins, because they were the guests, were given <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>each a hard-boiled
+egg. Dumpty was getting over her shyness now, and tried to behave as
+mummie does when she is out to tea. "Eggs are very dear now," she
+announced gravely, during a lull in the conversation; "how much do you
+pay for yours?" How the men and women laughed! It seemed as if Bill
+would never stop chuckling, and repeating to himself, "Pay for our eggs!
+That's a good un"; and every time that he said "Pay for our eggs!" he
+gave his leg a loud slap with his hand. When breakfast was over&mdash;and you
+may be sure that the twins ate a good one, although they did not much
+like the strong tea, without any milk&mdash;the woman said it was time for
+them to be starting home.</p>
+
+<p>"Please," begged Dumpty, summoning all her courage&mdash;"please, may the
+piebald pony take us?" and in a few minutes Bill drove it up, harnessed
+to an old rickety cart, and the two children were packed in.</p>
+
+<p>Just as they were starting Dumpty said, with a sigh, to the kind gipsy
+woman, "Thank you very, very much, and will you, please, tell the clown
+how sorry I am that I have not seen him to speak to?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Ere I am, young mon&mdash;'ere I am!"</p>
+
+<p>It was Bill who spoke. The twins could not believe their ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you the clown?" said Dumpty in an awestruck voice; "are you really
+and truly the clown?"</p>
+
+<p>Bill jerked the reins, and the piebald pony set off at a weary trot.
+"Yes, missie, I am the clown," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's your nose?" asked Humpty suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"One's on my face&mdash;t'other's in the dressing-up box," answered the man,
+with a shout of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you're not Poor Jane's brother?" said Dumpty.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know nuffun about Poor Jine&mdash;we've got only one Jine here, and
+that's the monkey, and she ain't my sister, leastways it's to be hoped
+as she in't."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But although it was disappointing to find that the clever clown was only
+Bill all the time, the twins enjoyed their drive home, for Bill told
+them many wonderful tales of his life in the ring, and of the animals
+which he had trained.</p>
+
+<p>Soon they came to the village, which looked so strange and quiet by the
+early morning light, with the cottage-doors all shut, and the windows
+closed and the blinds drawn. Humpty jumped down to open the gate leading
+up the drive, and there on the doorstep were mummie and daddy, looking
+so white and ill, who had come out of the house at the sound of the
+wheels on the gravel to greet them.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Home Again</div>
+
+<p>The twins were hurried indoors and taken up to the nursery, and Nan
+cried when she saw them and forgot to scold. From the window they
+watched mum and daddy thanking Bill, and giving him some money, and they
+waved "goodbye" to him, and he flourished his whip in return, gave
+another tug at the reins, and the old piebald pony cantered bravely down
+the drive, and they saw them no more.</p>
+
+<p>The twins were not allowed to see their mother, for Nan said that she
+was feeling ill with a dreadful headache, and it was all on account of
+their "goings-on"; and after Nan had stopped crying, she began to scold,
+and was very cross all day.</p>
+
+<p>That evening when the twins were in bed mummie came to tuck them up. But
+instead of saying "Good-night," and then going out as she generally did,
+she stayed for a long, long time and talked.</p>
+
+<p>She told them that it was very wrong to have disobeyed nurse, who had
+told them to stay in the seats and not to go away.</p>
+
+<p>"But," cried Humpty, "we had to try to rescue Poor Jane's brother!"</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Jane's brother!" repeated mummie, looking puzzled. And then the
+twins explained.</p>
+
+<p>Mummie sat silent for a long time.</p>
+
+<p>"Remember, children," she said at last, "never do <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>evil that good may
+come&mdash;I can't expect you to understand that&mdash;but I can tell you a little
+story."</p>
+
+<p>"A story!" cried the twins. "Hooray!"</p>
+
+<p>"Once upon a time a town was besieged. It was night, and only the
+sentinels on the walls were left on guard, and told to give the alarm by
+clanging a large bell, should the enemy force an attack. There was one
+sentinel who had never done this work before, and he was given the least
+important tower to guard. During the night a loud bell clanged out, and
+a soldier came running along the wall to speak to the new sentinel. 'Do
+come,' he said, 'we want as many helpers as we can get at once, and
+there will be plenty of fighting.' The young sentinel longed to go with
+him, and join the fight, but he remembered his duty in time.</p>
+
+<p>"'I cannot leave this tower,' he said; 'I have had orders to stay and
+give the alarm should the enemy appear, and the town trusts me to do
+so.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I believe that you are afraid,' said the soldier as he hurried away.</p>
+
+<p>"And this was the hardest of all, and the sentinel longed to join in the
+fighting to show that he, too, was no coward, but could fight like a
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"He stood there, listening to the noise in the distance, to the shouts
+of the enemy, and the screams of those who were struck down. And as he
+looked below the walls into the valley beyond he thought that he could
+distinguish men moving, and while he watched he saw a number of soldiers
+creeping up to the walls, and one man had even placed his foot on the
+steps that led up to his tower. Quick as thought, the sentinel seized
+the rope of the large bell that hung over his head and clanged it again
+and again.</p>
+
+<p>"In a few minutes the troops were assembled, and, making their way down
+the steep steps, they charged at the enemy, and followed them into the
+valley.</p>
+
+<p>"Late on the following evening the soldiers re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>turned, but not all, for
+many were killed&mdash;and they brought back news of a great victory. The
+enemy was routed and the town saved. So you see, children," said mother
+gravely, "how much better it is to do what is right. If that young
+sentinel had left his post, even though it were to help the men in the
+other tower, the enemy would have climbed up those steps and got into
+the town. You must try to remember this always. You should have obeyed
+nurse, and remembered that she was trusting you to do what she had said.
+It was a kind thought of yours to try to rescue Poor Jane's brother, but
+obedience to nurse should have come first."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Jane's Delusion</div>
+
+<p>"But we forgot, mummie," said Humpty.</p>
+
+<p>"What would have happened if the sentinel had forgotten that he was
+trusted to do his duty, and stay in the tower?"</p>
+
+<p>Humpty was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said mummie cheerfully, "we will forget all about the
+terrible fright you have given us, and you must try to remember what I
+have said. I want to know all about Poor Jane's brother," she continued,
+smiling; "is it some one you have been imagining about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no!" cried the twins at once. And then they told her of the
+conversation which they had had with Poor Jane, and of what she had said
+about her brother.</p>
+
+<p>"But Poor Jane has no brother," said mummie; "he died long ago. Jane's
+mind has never grown up. One day, when she was a girl, her mother took
+her to a circus at Woodstead, and when they came home, after it was
+over, they were told the sad news that Jane's brother had fallen from
+the top of a wagon of hay on to his head. He died a few hours later. But
+Jane could not understand death&mdash;she only knew that Harry had gone away
+from them, and she believed that the circus people had stolen him from
+the village and made him a clown. Ever since that sad day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> Jane has gone
+up and down the village to look for him, hoping that he will come back."</p>
+
+<p>"And will Poor Jane never see him again?" asked Dumpty.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered mummie, with her sweetest smile&mdash;"yes, darlings, one day
+she may!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>The Sugar Creek Highwayman</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Adela E. Orpen</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">An Englishwoman's adventure in Arkansas, issuing in a great
+surprise to all concerned.</div>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Boyd returned from Arkansas, I, having myself spent a very
+uneventful summer at home, with only the slight excitement of a month at
+Margate, was most anxious to hear an account of her adventures. That she
+had had adventures out there on those wild plains of course I felt
+certain. It would be manifestly preposterous to go to Arkansas for three
+months, and come back without an adventure.</p>
+
+<p>So, on the first day when Mrs. Boyd was to be "at home" after her
+return, I went to see her; and I found, already assembled in her cosy
+drawing-room, several other friends, impelled there, like myself, by
+curiosity to hear what she had to say, as well as by a desire to welcome
+her back.</p>
+
+<p>"I was just asking Mrs. Boyd what she thought the most singular thing in
+America," said Miss Bascombe, by way of putting me <i>au courant</i> with the
+conversation after my greeting was over with our hostess.</p>
+
+<p>"And I," replied Mrs. Boyd, "was just going to say I really did not know
+what was the one most curious thing in America, where most things seem
+curious, being different from here, you know. I suppose <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>it is their
+strange whining speech which most strikes one at the outset. It is
+strong in New York, certainly, but when you get out West it is simply
+amazing. But then they thought my speech as curious as I did theirs. A
+good woman in Arkansas said I talked 'mighty crabbed like.' But a man
+who travelled in the next seat to me, across Southern Illinois, after
+talking with me for a long time, said, 'Wal, now, you dew talk purty
+tol'eble square for an Englishwoman. You h'aint said 'Hingland' nor
+'Hameriky' onst since you sot there as I knows on!'"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Boyd put on so droll a twang, and gave her words such a curious,
+downward jerk in speaking, that we all laughed, and felt we had a pretty
+fair idea of how the Illinois people talk at all events.</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody is very friendly," continued Mrs. Boyd, "no matter what may
+be their station in life, nor what you may suppose to be yours. I
+remember in Cincinnati, where I stopped for a couple of days, the porter
+who got out my box for me saw it had some London and Liverpool labels on
+it, whereupon he said, with a pleasant smile, 'Wal, how's Eur&ocirc;pe gettin'
+on, anyhow?' Fancy a Cannon Street porter making such a remark to a
+passenger! But it was quite simply said, without the faintest idea of
+impertinence. In fact, it is almost impossible to say that anybody is
+impertinent where you are all so absolutely on an equality."</p>
+
+<p>Now all this was interesting enough, no doubt, but what I wanted to hear
+about was something more startling. I could not really give up all at
+once the idea of an adventure in the West, so I said, "But didn't
+anything wonderful happen to you, Mrs. Boyd?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I can't say there did," replied the lady, slightly surprised, I
+could see, by my question.</p>
+
+<p>Then, rallying my geography with an effort, I asked, "Weren't you
+carried off by the Indians, or swept away by a flood?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I was many hundred miles away from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> Indian Reservation, and did
+not see a single Red man," replied Mrs. Boyd; "and as for floods&mdash;well,
+my dear, I could tell you the ridiculous straits we were put to for want
+of water, but I can't even imagine a flood on those parched and dried-up
+plains."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">An Adventure</div>
+
+<p>"Well," said I, in an aggrieved voice, "I think you might have come back
+with at least one adventure after being away for three months."</p>
+
+<p>"An adventure!" exclaimed Mrs. Boyd, in astonishment, and then a flash
+of recollection passed over her countenance, and she continued, "Oh,
+yes, I did have one; I had an adventure with an highwayman."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" cried all the ladies, in a delighted chorus.</p>
+
+<p>"See there, now!" said Miss Bascombe, as if appropriating to herself the
+credit of the impending narrative.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it!" said I, with triumph, conscious that to me was due the
+glory of unearthing the tale.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell it to you, if you like," said Mrs. Boyd.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, pray do; we are dying to hear about it!" said Miss Bascombe. "A
+highwayman above all! How delicious!"</p>
+
+<p>"Was he handsome?" asked one of the ladies, foolishly, as if that had
+anything to say to it.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait," said Mrs. Boyd, who assumed a grave expression of countenance,
+which we felt to be due to the recollection of the danger she had run.
+We also looked serious, as in politeness bound, and sat in eager
+expectation of her story.</p>
+
+<p>"One day we were all invited to spend the whole afternoon at a
+neighbour's house. We were to go early for dinner at half-past twelve,
+stay until tea at five, and then drive home in the evening. The
+neighbour lived twelve miles away, but as there was to be a moon we
+anticipated no difficulty in driving home over the prairie. You see, as
+a rule, people are not out after dark in those wild regions; they get up
+very early, work hard all day, and are quite ready to go to bed soon
+after sunset. Anyway, there is no twilight; the sun sets, and it is dark
+almost immediately. When <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>the day came, Emily (my sister, you know, with
+whom I was staying) wasn't able to go because the baby was not at all
+well, and she could not leave him for so long a time. So my
+brother-in-law and I set off alone, promising to come home early. I
+enjoyed the drive over the prairie very much, and we got to our
+destination about midday. Then we had dinner, a regular out-West dinner,
+all on the table together, everything very good and very plentiful. We
+dined in the kitchen, of course, and after dinner I helped Mrs. Hewstead
+to wash up the dishes, and then we went out and sat on the north side of
+the house in the shade and gossiped, while the men went and inspected
+some steam-ploughs and corn-planters, and what not. Then at five o'clock
+we had supper. Dear me! when I think of that square meal, and then look
+at this table, I certainly realise there is a world of difference
+between England and Arkansas."</p>
+
+<p>"Why," said Miss Bascombe, "don't they have tea in America?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Boyd, "we had tea and coffee, any number of
+cakes and pies, and the coloured man brought up a wheelbarrowful of
+water-melons and piled them on the floor, and we ate them all!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me," I remarked, "what a very extraordinary repast! I think you
+must have felt rather uncomfortable after such a gorge."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, no," returned Mrs. Boyd, smiling; "one can eat simply an
+unlimited quantity of water-melons on those thirsty plains. The water is
+always sickeningly warm in the summer-time, so that any substitute for
+it is eagerly welcomed."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Boyd, lost in the recollections of the appetising water-melons, was
+clearly forgetting the great point of her story, so I ventured to
+suggest it by remarking: "And the highwayman?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am coming to that directly," said Mrs. Boyd.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we started home just before sundown; and as it was very hot, we
+could not drive fast. Indeed, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>the horses were in a sheet of lather
+almost immediately, and the air seemed fairly thick with the heat-rays,
+and absolutely breathless. Just as we got to the bluff overlooking the
+Big Sugar Creek, the sun set.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Dangerous District</div>
+
+<p>"'I wish we were on the other side of the creek, I know,' said my
+brother-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>"'Why so?' said I; 'this part of the country is perfectly safe, is it
+not?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' he replied, 'it is pretty safe now, but there are always some
+rough customers about the bush, and there have been one or two shootings
+on the Big Sugar. Orlando Morse saw a man on horseback one night just
+after he had crossed the ford, waiting for him by the side of the road
+under the trees. But Orlando is an old frontier-man, so he is pretty
+quick with his trigger. He fired twice at the man, after challenging;
+whereupon the scoundrel vanished rapidly, and Orlando got safe home.'</p>
+
+<p>"I felt very uncomfortable at this, as you may imagine; still, as I knew
+my brother-in-law had a very poor opinion of the nerves of Englishwomen,
+I made an effort to say, as lightly as I could: 'What a very
+extraordinary country, to be sure! And do you always shoot anybody you
+may happen to see standing by the roadside of a summer's evening?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh no,' laughed Louis; 'we're not quite so savage as that. But you may
+fire at any suspicious body or thing, after due challenge, if the answer
+is not satisfactory. That's the rule of the road.'</p>
+
+<p>"After that I began to peer about in the gloom, rather anxiously trying
+to see if I could discover any suspicious body or thing, but I could
+make out nothing on account of the gloom, made more complete by the
+surrounding trees. Besides, we were going down hill very fast; we were,
+in fact, descending the steep bank of the first creek; then there was a
+bit of level in the wooded valley, then another stream, the South Fork
+it was called, then another steep climb, and we would once more be on
+the high and open prairie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'Now, then, hold on tight!' said my brother-in-law, as he clutched the
+reins in both hands, braced his feet against the dashboard, and leaned
+far back in his seat. The horses seemed literally to disappear beneath
+our feet; the wagon went down head foremost with a lunge, there was a
+sudden jerk and great splashing and snorting, followed by a complete
+cessation of noise from the wheels, and a gentle swaying to and fro of
+the wagon. We were crossing the ford with the water breast high on the
+horses.</p>
+
+<p>"'I'm always glad when that ford is behind me,' said Louis to me, when
+we were again driving on quietly through the valley.</p>
+
+<p>"'Why?' said I; 'for there's another ford in front of us still.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, the South Fork is nothing, but the Big Sugar is treacherous. I've
+known it rise twenty feet in two hours, and once I was water-bound on
+the other side for eleven days, unable to ford it. Emily would have gone
+out of her mind with anxiety, for the country was very disturbed at the
+time, only one of our neighbours, who saw me camping there, rode down to
+the house, and told her where I was, but, all the same&mdash;&mdash;Hold! what's
+that?'</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't scream; I couldn't, for my heart almost stopped beating with
+terror.</p>
+
+<p>"'Take the reins,' said Louis, in a quick whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"I took hold of them as firmly as I could, but a pair of kittens could
+have run away with us, my hands trembled so. Louis got out his revolver;
+I heard click, click, click, in his hand, and then in the faint light I
+saw the gleam of steel.</p>
+
+<p>"'Halt! Who goes there?' called Louis, in a voice of thunder. I never
+heard his soldier-voice before, for ordinarily he speaks in a melodious
+baritone; and I then quite understood what Emily meant when she told me
+how his voice was heard above the din of battle, cheering his men on for
+the last charge at Gettysburg. I strained my eyes to see what it was,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>and there in front of us, not fifteen yards away, on the side of the
+road, I saw a man seated on horseback standing motionless, his right arm
+stretching forward, aiming straight towards us.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Two Pistol-shots</div>
+
+<p>"Two livid tongues of flame darted from beside me&mdash;two quick reports of
+pistol-shots rang on the night air, then all was still. I felt the
+horses quiver, for the motion was communicated to me by the reins I held
+in my hands, but they were admirably trained animals, and did not move
+to the right or the left, only the younger one, a bay filly, snorted
+loudly. Louis sat silent and motionless, his revolver still pointing at
+the highwayman.</p>
+
+<p>"I scarcely breathed, but in all my life I never thought with such
+lightning rapidity. My whole household over here was distinct before me,
+with my husband and the children, and what they would do on getting the
+cablegram saying 'waylaid and murdered.'</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of a myriad things. I remember, amongst others, that it
+worried me to think that an over-charge of five shillings from Perkins
+for fowl, which my husband had just written to ask about, would now be
+paid because I could never explain that the pair of chickens had been
+returned. All this time&mdash;only a moment or two, you know&mdash;I was expecting
+instant death, while Louis and the horses remained motionless.</p>
+
+<p>"The smoke from the revolver slowly cleared away; a bat, startled by the
+noise, flapped against my face, and we saw the highwayman seated on his
+horse, standing immovable where he was, his right arm stretching out
+towards us with the same deadly aim.</p>
+
+<p>"'If that man is mortal, he should have dropped,' said Louis softly.
+'Both bullets struck him.'</p>
+
+<p>"We waited a moment longer. The figure remained as before.</p>
+
+<p>"'I must reconnoitre,' said Louis; 'I don't understand his tactics.'
+And, to my dismay, he prepared to get out of the wagon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'Are you going away?' I asked breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes; sit still&mdash;the horses won't stir. I'm going to open fire at close
+quarters.'</p>
+
+<p>"I thought Louis's attempt at jocularity most ill-timed, but I said
+nothing. It seemed to me an immense time that he was gone, but he
+declares that it was not more than a minute and a quarter. Then I heard
+him laugh quietly to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"'All right, come on,' he said to me. 'Gee, whoa, haw, get up, girlies,'
+he said to the horses, and those sagacious beasts immediately walked
+straight towards the spot whence his voice came, without paying the
+least attention to me, who was holding the reins so tight, as I thought.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, Milly, I suppose you'll never stop laughing,' was the first
+thing he said to me when the horses came to a standstill, with their
+noses almost in his beard.</p>
+
+<p>"'I never felt less like laughing,' I replied, hardly daring to believe
+that the peril was past and that I was still alive.</p>
+
+<p>"'Our highwayman is an old stump, don't you see?' exclaimed Louis. I
+looked again and saw that what he said was true; a gnarled tree stump,
+some twisted branches, a deceiving white vapour, and perhaps, too, our
+own vivid imaginations, these were the elements which had given birth to
+our highwayman.</p>
+
+<p>"'I never was more taken in,' said Louis, as he resumed his seat beside
+me. 'It was the dead image of a man on horseback holding out a pistol.
+I'll come down here to-morrow and examine the place, to find out how I
+could have been so silly, but in the daylight, of course, it will look
+quite different. I shan't ever dare to tell the story, however, for
+they'll laugh at me from the Red River to the Mississippi, and say I'm
+getting to be an old fool, and ought to have somebody to look after me!'</p>
+
+<p>"I saw that Louis was ashamed of the mistake he had made, but I was so
+thankful to be safe that I paid little heed to what he said. The next
+day he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>rode down to the Big Sugar Creek, sure enough, to identify the
+slain, as he said. When he came back, a couple of hours later, he was in
+high good-humour.</p>
+
+<p>"'I shall not be afraid to tell the story against myself now,' he said.
+'What do you think I found in the stump?'</p>
+
+<p>"'What did you find?' asked I, full of interest in this, the only
+highwayman I ever met.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Last Laugh</div>
+
+<p>"'<i>Sixteen bullet-holes!</i> You see, there have been other fools as great
+as myself, but they were ashamed of their folly and kept it dark. I
+shall tell mine abroad and have the last laugh at all events.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>Dorothy's Day</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">M. E. Longmore</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Dorothy played a highly important part at a critical period
+in the life of her father. She begins in disgrace and ends in triumph.</div>
+
+<p>"My costume!" said Dorothy Graham, jumping up from the breakfast-table.</p>
+
+<p>"You need not smash <i>all</i> the china!" observed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>"The parcels post never comes so early," murmured Dorothy's mother. "How
+impulsive that child is!"</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes Dorothy came back with a crestfallen air and laid a
+brown, uninteresting-looking envelope by her mother's plate.</p>
+
+<p>"I might have known he never comes so early, except with letters," she
+remarked, sitting down again.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you might," said Dick, clearing the bacon dish, "but you
+never know anything worth knowing."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't tease her," said Mrs. Graham kindly; "it is not often she gets a
+new frock."</p>
+
+<p>"A <i>costume</i>," corrected Dick, imitating Dorothy's voice. "A <i>real</i>
+tailor one&mdash;made in Bond Street!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Graham rustled his newspaper, and Dick succumbed.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Dorothy!" Mrs. Graham was looking at her letter. "Dear me!" She
+ran her eyes quickly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>through its contents. "I'm afraid that costume
+won't come to-day. They've had a fire."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Fire in Bond Street</div>
+
+<p>"'Prescott's, Bond Street,'" said Mr. Graham, reading from a paragraph
+in the morning paper. "Here it is: 'A fire occurred yesterday afternoon
+in the ladies' tailoring department. The stock-room was gutted, but
+fortunately the assistants escaped without injury.'"</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy, with a very long face, was reading over her mother's shoulder:</p>
+
+<p>"In consequence of a fire in the tailoring department Messrs. Prescott
+beg to inform their customers that some delay will be caused in getting
+out this week's orders. Business will, however, be continued as usual,
+and it will greatly facilitate matters if ladies having costumes now in
+hand will repeat the order by wire or telephone to avoid mistakes."</p>
+
+<p>"It's very smart of them to have got that notice here so soon," said Mr.
+Graham.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother," said Dorothy, swallowing very hard, "do you think it is burnt?
+After being fitted and all!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a disappointment," said her mother kindly, "but they'll make you
+another."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a <i>shame!</i>" burst out Dorothy, with very hot cheeks. "These sort
+of things always happen to <i>me!</i> Can't we go to Chelmsford and get one
+ready-made?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's a girl all over!" exclaimed Dick. "Now the man's down, let's
+kick him!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Graham turned his head with a sharp look at Dick, who immediately,
+getting very red, pretended to be picking up something under the table.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't say <i>anything</i> about <i>any</i> man!" said Dorothy, appealing all
+round. "Mother, can't I have a costume from Chelmsford?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear," said Mrs. Graham coldly; "this one is ordered."</p>
+
+<p>"Dick is right, Dolly," said her father. "Don't you see it is the people
+who have had the <i>fire</i> we should pity? And is it not bad enough to have
+their place burnt, without losing their customers?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Dorothy sulked. She thought every one was very unkind, and it seemed the
+last straw when father took Dick's part against her.</p>
+
+<p>It was time for Mr. Graham to go to town. He had eaten scarcely any
+breakfast, and Mrs. Graham, who had been anxiously watching him, had
+eaten none at all, but things of this sort children don't often notice.</p>
+
+<p>When he passed his little girl's chair, he put his hand kindly on her
+shoulder, and the tears that had been so near welled into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Dolly!" Mr. Graham said presently, as he reached for his hat,
+"everything seems of a piece." And he gave a great sigh.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Graham always went as far as the gate with him, and he thought they
+were alone in the hall, but Dick had followed them to the dining-room
+door. It was holiday-time, yet Dick was going to Chelmsford for an
+examination. He had come out intending to ask his father before he went
+to London for half a crown. Dick was just at the age when schoolboys try
+to appear exactly the reverse from what they are. He squabbled
+constantly with Dorothy, though he loved her very much, and now, when he
+heard his father sigh, he put his hands in his pockets as if he didn't
+care about anything, and went upstairs whistling.</p>
+
+<p>When Dick got to his room, he took a money-box from the mantelpiece and
+smashed it open with the poker. He had been saving up for a new bat, and
+the box contained seven shillings. He put the money in his pocket and
+ran down again in a great hurry.</p>
+
+<p>"Dick! Dick!" exclaimed his mother, catching him. "Come here! Let me
+brush your collar. How rough your hair is! Dick, you must have a new
+hat! You can't go into the hall with that one."</p>
+
+<p>"All serene, mother," said the boy, submitting impatiently to be
+overhauled. "I can buy a new hat and pitch the old one away."</p>
+
+<p>"How grandly some people talk!" said his mother, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>pinching his ear. "As
+if the world belonged to them. Well, never mind, dear boy! If you get on
+well and <i>pass</i>, no one will remember your hat was shabby. Have you got
+your fare?"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Telegram</div>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother, how you <i>do</i> worry!" exclaimed Dick, wrenching himself
+away; "I've got lots of money&mdash;<i>heaps!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>He ran across the lawn, and just because he knew she was watching,
+jumped right over the azalea-bushes and wire fence instead of going out
+at the gate, and yet the tired look went out of Mrs. Graham's eyes, and
+a smile crept round her mouth as she watched him.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy, standing at the dining-room window, saw him go too, and thought
+how horrid it was of Dick to look so glad when she was so unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>"Boys are always like that," she thought. "They don't care a bit about
+any one but themselves."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Graham came back into the room holding a telegram in her hand which
+she tore open quickly. Her face went red and then rather white.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, mother?" said Dorothy eagerly. "Have they arrived?"</p>
+
+<p>"They have been in London two days," said Mrs. Graham, with a curious
+catch in her breath, and she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.
+"They want me up for a day's shopping. If I had known, I could have gone
+with father."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy stood staring at her mother with wide-open eyes. Half a dozen
+castles in the air seemed tumbling about her head at the same time.</p>
+
+<p>They were expecting her mother's cousins over from America. Dorothy had
+been chattering about them to the girls at school all the term, and it
+was in honour of these very cousins she was having her first Bond Street
+costume. Her mother had not said that was the reason, but Dorothy knew
+it. She had a <i>sweet</i>, really <i>big</i> hat too, with tiny rosebuds, and new
+gloves and boots. As a rule her mother was not particular about <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>getting
+everything new at the same time, but she had taken enough pains this
+time to please Dorothy herself.</p>
+
+<p>"They do dress children so at Boston," Dorothy had overheard her mother
+say to Mr. Graham, as a sort of excuse. "I should like Dollie to look
+nice."</p>
+
+<p>And from that one sentence Dorothy had conjured up all sorts of things
+about these wonderful cousins. Of course she thought they were coming to
+stay with them. She expected there would be girls of her own age, and
+that they would be so charmed with their English cousin that they would
+invite her to go back to Boston with them. She had talked about them,
+and thought about them so much that she imagined her mother had <i>told</i>
+her all this, but really Mrs. Graham, who talked very little, didn't
+know much about her cousins herself, so she could not have given her
+little daughter all this information if she had been inclined to.</p>
+
+<p>And now it all seemed so <i>tame</i>. First no costume, then an ordinary wire
+to ask mother to go up for a day's shopping. They might have come from
+Surrey instead of America. And two whole days before they wired at all.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps Mrs. Graham was thinking something of the kind too, for she
+stood biting her lip, with the colour going and coming in pretty blushes
+on her cheek, as if she could not make up her mind.</p>
+
+<p>She was just "mother" to Dorothy, but to other people Mrs. Graham was
+both pretty and sweet.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>must</i> go," she said at length, "and there is scarcely time to get
+ready."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>mother!</i>" cried Dorothy, "can't I come too?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Graham still seemed to be considering something else, and she
+merely answered, "No, dear," and went quickly upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy sank down on the sofa in a terribly injured mood. Nobody seemed
+to be thinking of <i>her</i> at all. And before she had got over the first
+brunt of this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>discovery her mother was back again ready to go, with her
+purse-bag and gloves in her hand.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Left in Charge</div>
+
+<p>"Dorothy," she said, arranging her hat before the mirror of the
+overmantel, "you may choose any pudding you like, tell cook. Here are
+the keys"&mdash;she paused to throw a small bunch in Dorothy's lap. "Get out
+anything they want. And Dick won't be in till half-past one, tell her.
+And Dollie"&mdash;there was again that queer little catch in her voice&mdash;"it
+is possible Miss Addiscombe may call this afternoon. I have told Louisa
+to show her right into the drawing-room without telling her I am out,
+and come and find you. I want you to be very nice to her, and explain
+about the Merediths. Tell her I was obliged to go because they only gave
+me the place of meeting, and I have not their address. I shall be home
+as soon as possible, between four and five at latest, so do your best to
+keep her till I come back."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you say Miss <i>Addiscombe</i>, mother?" said Dorothy dismally, yet a
+little comforted by having the keys, and with the thought of choosing
+the pudding, "I don't think <i>she's</i> likely to call."</p>
+
+<p>"I said Miss Addiscombe," Mrs. Graham answered decidedly. "Do you
+understand what I wish you to do, Dollie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mother," said Dorothy, subdued but mutinous.</p>
+
+<p>Then she ran after her to the hall door.</p>
+
+<p>"Mayn't I ask some one to spend the day, mother?" she called, but Mrs.
+Graham was almost at the gate, nearly running to be in time for her
+train, and did not hear her.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Mrs. Graham came home looking very white and tired. "Did Miss Addiscombe
+call?" were the first words she said.</p>
+
+<p>Louisa, who was bringing in the tea, looked meaningly at Dorothy, and
+went out without speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother!" said Dorothy, "I am so sorry, I had been in all day, and
+Helen Jones just asked me <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>to come to the post with her, and when I came
+back there was a motor at the door, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She <i>came!</i>" exclaimed Mrs. Graham. "And you did not give her my
+message! Oh, Dorothy!"</p>
+
+<p>Her tone was almost like a cry of pain. Dorothy was startled. "She
+wouldn't wait, mother, and&mdash;and of course it <i>was</i> strange she came
+to-day when she hasn't called for ages and ages! I didn't think she
+would, or I wouldn't have gone," she explained.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Graham did not argue the point. She lay down on the sofa and closed
+her eyes. Dorothy longed to ask her about the American cousins, but did
+not dare. Presently she poured out a cup of tea and brought it to her
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>"If you take some tea you will feel better, mother," she said softly.</p>
+
+<p>"If I had asked Dick to do something for me he would have done it,
+Dorothy," said Mrs. Graham bitterly, and without seeming to notice the
+tea she got up and gathered her things together. "I have a headache,"
+she said. "I am not coming down again. Father will not be home to-night,
+so you can tell Louisa there will be no need to lay the cloth for
+dinner. I don't wish any one to come near me." And she went out of the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Dorothy felt dreadfully uncomfortable and crestfallen. She had been
+alone all day, and it did seem such a little thing to go to the post
+with Helen Jones, who knew all about her costume, and quite agreed with
+her that it was a 'horrid shame' for people to be so careless as to have
+<i>fires</i>, when they had the charge of other people's things.</p>
+
+<p>Louisa had scolded her, and been very cross when she came in, but
+Dorothy really saw no reason why it mattered very much what Miss
+Addiscombe thought. It wasn't like mother to mind anything like that so
+much.</p>
+
+<p>Dick came in about half an hour later. He had been home to dinner, and
+had gone out again to a cricket match.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Mother has gone to bed," said Dorothy rather importantly. "She doesn't
+want to be disturbed, and you are not to go to her. She's got a
+headache, and father isn't coming home."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Dick's Strange Silence</div>
+
+<p>Dick looked at her very hard, and without speaking went straight
+upstairs, listened a little, and opened his mother's door. "He <i>is</i> a
+tiresome boy!" thought Dorothy; "now mother will think I never told
+him."</p>
+
+<p>Louisa brought in a poached egg, and some baked apples as he came down
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"Cook says it's so late, you had better make it your supper, sir," she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother wants a hot-water bottle," answered Dick; "she's as cold as ice.
+I think you or cook had better go up and see about her. Perhaps she'd
+better have a fire."</p>
+
+<p>"A fire in August! Oh, Dick, how <i>ridiculous!</i>" exclaimed Dorothy.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, sir," said Louisa, taking the indiarubber bottle he had
+brought down; "don't you worry."</p>
+
+<p>Dick took a book, and planting his elbows on the table, seemed to be
+reading; in reality he was blinking his eyelashes very hard, to keep
+back tears.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy thought the whole world was going mad. As far as she knew the
+only trouble in it was her own.</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't you going to take any supper, Dick?" she said plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>Dick pushed the egg and apples away, and cutting himself a hunch of
+bread, went out of the room without speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"Every one is very polite to-night," thought Dorothy. However, she sat
+down, ate Dick's egg and helped herself to apples with plenty of sugar,
+and felt a little comforted.</p>
+
+<p>At eight o'clock she went up to bed, glad the tiresome, miserable day
+was at an end. She trod very softly, but her mother heard her and called
+her in.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy was glad, for she spoke in her natural voice and not at all as
+if she were angry.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She was still dressed and lying on the bed, but her hand, which had
+frightened Dick by being so cold, was now burning.</p>
+
+<p>"I spoke hastily to you, Dollie," she said. "You didn't know how
+important it was. I am going to tell you now, dear, for it may be a
+lesson to you."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy stood awkwardly by the bed; she didn't like her mother to
+apologise, and she didn't want the lecture which she imagined was
+coming.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," said Mrs. Graham, "is in a very bad way indeed. I can't
+explain to you all about it because you would not understand, but a
+friend he trusted very much has failed him, and another friend has been
+spreading false rumours about his business. If he doesn't get enough
+money to pay his creditors by Saturday he must go bankrupt. Miss
+Addiscombe was a friend of his long ago. She has not been kind to him
+lately, and she has always been rude to me. I didn't tell father because
+I knew he would not let me, but I wrote and told her just how it was,
+and asked her to let bygones be bygones. I was hoping so much she would
+come, and if she came she would have lent him the money. She has so much
+it would mean nothing to her. Then I was disappointed in London. I
+thought Mr. Meredith would have been there&mdash;he is rich too&mdash;and my
+cousin, but he is not over at all: just his wife and daughter, and they
+are rushing through London. They were so busy we had scarcely time to
+speak. I half wonder they remembered my existence."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother!" protested Dorothy; and then with great effort: "You could
+go over to-morrow to Miss Addiscombe, or write, mother; she would
+understand."</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear. It is no use thinking of it. To offend her once is to offend
+her always. Besides, I am tired out, and there are only two more days. I
+have told you because I didn't want it to all come quite suddenly, and
+you are so wrapt up in yourself, Dollie, you don't notice the way Dick
+does. If you had told me he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> <i>passed</i>, Dorothy, when I came in, I
+should not have felt quite so bad."</p>
+
+<p>"But I didn't know, mother," said Dorothy. "Dick didn't tell me. <i>Has</i>
+he passed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whose fault was it, Dollie? He came home to dinner and found you all
+alone. Did you <i>ask</i> him how he had got on?"</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy hung her head. Mrs. Graham kissed her. "Well, go to bed and pray
+for dear father," she said. "It is worse for him than for any of us."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy felt as if she were choking. When she got to the door she stood
+hesitating with her hand on the handle.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a hundred pounds in the Bank, mother, that grandma left me.
+Father can have that if it would be any use." She had made the offer
+with an effort, for Dorothy liked to have a hundred pounds of her own.
+What little girl would not? But her mother answered peevishly: "It would
+be no more use than if you offered him a halfpenny. Don't be foolish."</p>
+
+<p>Dick's door was open and Dorothy went in.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it dreadful, Dick!" she said. "What is <i>bankrupt?</i> How much money
+does father want?"</p>
+
+<p>"About fifteen hundred," said Dick savagely. "It's all that old
+Pemberton backing out of it. Father wanted to get his patents to
+Brussels, and he's got medals for them all, but it cost a lot of money
+and now they are not bought. So the business will go to smash, and he'll
+lose the patents besides, that's the worst of it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dick," said Dorothy wistfully, "don't you think it would be better if
+father attended to his proper business and stopped inventing things when
+it costs so much?"</p>
+
+<p>Dick sprang up with blazing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You little brute!" he said, "go out of my room. No, I don't. Father's
+the cleverest and best man in the world. He can't help being a genius!"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Last Straw</div>
+
+<p>This was Dorothy's last straw; she went away and threw herself, dressed,
+on her bed, sobbing as if her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>heart would break. And only this morning
+she thought she was miserable because her new dress had not come.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy cried till she could cry no longer, and then she got up and
+slowly undressed. The house was very still. A clock somewhere was
+striking ten, and it seemed to Dorothy as if it were the middle of the
+night. She was cold now as her mother had been, but no one was likely to
+come to her. She felt alone and frightened, and as if a wall had
+descended between her and Dick, and her mother and father. Among all the
+other puzzling and dreadful things, nothing seemed so strange to Dorothy
+as that Dick showed better than herself. He had gone up to mother when
+he was told not, and yet it was <i>right</i> (even Dorothy could understand
+that) for him to disobey her, and <i>she</i> had just gone to the post, and
+all this dreadful thing would come of it. Dorothy had always thought
+Dick was such a bad boy and she was so good, and now it seemed all the
+other way. She was <i>father's</i> girl, too, and father was always down on
+Dick, yet&mdash;her eyes filled when she thought of it&mdash;Dick was loyal, and
+had called her a little brute, and mother said it was worst of all for
+father.</p>
+
+<p>She knelt down by her bed. Until to-night Dorothy had never really felt
+she needed Jesus as a friend, though she sometimes thought she loved
+Him. Now it seemed as if she <i>must</i> tell some one, and she wanted Him
+very, very badly. So she knelt and prayed, and though she cried nearly
+all the time she felt much happier when she got up.</p>
+
+<p>"I am so selfish. I am so sorry. Please help me!" was the burden of poor
+Dollie's prayer, but she got into bed feeling as if Jesus had
+understood, and fell asleep quite calmly.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning Dorothy awoke early. It was scarcely light. It was the
+first time in her life she had woke to sorrow, and it seemed very
+dreadful. Yet Dorothy felt humble this morning, and not helpless as she
+had done last night. She felt as if Someone, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>much stronger than
+herself, was going to stand by her and help her through.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Dorothy's Project</div>
+
+<p>Lying there thinking, many things seemed plain to her that she had not
+understood before, and a thought came into her head. It was <i>her</i> fault,
+and she was the one who should suffer; not father, nor mother, nor Dick.
+It would not be easy, for Dorothy did not like Miss Addiscombe, and she
+was afraid of her, but she must go to her.</p>
+
+<p>Directly the thought came into her head Dorothy was out of bed and
+beginning to dress. And that mysterious clock which she had never heard
+before was just striking five when she stole like a little white ghost
+downstairs, carrying her shoes in her hand, and unbolting the side door,
+slipped out into a strange world which was still fast asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Addiscombe lived ten miles away, but Dorothy did not remember
+anything about that. All her thought was to get there as soon as
+possible. One thing, she knew the way, for the flower-show was held in
+her grounds every year, and Dorothy had always been driven there. It was
+a nearly straight road.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>About ten o'clock that morning a gentleman was driving along the
+high-road when he suddenly pulled up his horse and threw the reins to
+the groom. It had been quite cool when Dorothy started, but now it was
+very hot, and there seemed no air at all. A little girl in a white frock
+was lying by the roadside.</p>
+
+<p>He stooped over her and felt her pulse, and Dorothy opened large,
+startled blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, my dear?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I am dying, I think," said Dorothy. "Tell mother I did <i>try</i>."</p>
+
+<p>He lifted her into his trap and got in beside her, telling the groom to
+drive on, and wondering very much. Dorothy gave a great sigh and began
+to feel better.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it is because I had no breakfast," she said. "Perhaps I am
+dying of <i>hunger</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The gentleman smiled, and searched his pockets. After a time he found
+some milk chocolate. Dorothy would rather have had water, but he made
+her eat a little. Then he took off her hat and gloves, and with a cool,
+soft handkerchief pushed back the hair that was clinging about her damp
+forehead and carefully wiped her face.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll feel better now," he said, fanning her with her hat, and putting
+it on again, as if he had never done anything but dress little girls in
+his life.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy smiled with a great sigh of relief, and the gentleman smiled
+too. "Now tell us all about it," he said in a friendly way. "Where do
+you live, and where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>When Dorothy told him he looked very much surprised, and at the same
+time interested, and before she knew what she was about, he had drawn
+from her the whole story, and the more she told him the more surprised
+and interested he became.</p>
+
+<p>"What was the name of the friend who failed your father?" he said at
+last, but Dorothy could not remember.</p>
+
+<p>"Was it Pemberton?" he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, Mr. Pemberton," said Dorothy. "At least, Dick said so."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't happen to be <i>Addiscombe</i> Graham's little daughter," he said
+with a queer look, "do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Father's name is Richard Addiscombe," said Dorothy doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the best thing you can do now is to come home with me and get
+some breakfast," he said. "It is no use going to the Park, for I have
+just been to the station, and Miss Addiscombe was there, with all her
+luggage, going off to the Continent."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Dorothy's heart sank like lead.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear!" she said, "then it's been no use. Poor father!" and her eyes
+filled with tears.</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman did not speak, and in a few minutes they drove in at the
+gates of a beautiful country house, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>and he lifted her down and took her
+in with him, calling out "Elizabeth!"</p>
+
+<p>A tall girl, about eighteen, came running to him, and after whispering
+to her for a minute, he left Dorothy in her charge, and went into the
+room where his wife was sitting.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you had gone to town?" she said.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Mr. Lawrence's Mistake</div>
+
+<p>"Providentially, no," he said, so gravely that she looked surprised. "Do
+you remember Addiscombe Graham, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Has anything happened to him?" said Mrs. Lawrence. "I have just been
+reading about him in the paper; all his life-saving appliances have had
+gold medals at the exhibition. What is it, Edward? Of course, I know you
+are a friend of his."</p>
+
+<p>"A Judas sort of friend," said Mr. Lawrence. "Do you know what I've
+done? I've nearly landed him in the Bankruptcy Court. Pemberton told me
+a few weeks ago he had promised to give him some spare cash that would
+be loose at the end of the year, and I persuaded him to put it in
+something else. I said, 'Graham doesn't want it, he's simply <i>coining</i>
+over his inventions,' and I thought it too. Now it appears he was
+<i>counting</i> on that money to pull him through the expenses."</p>
+
+<p>The tall girl took Dorothy upstairs to a beautiful bathroom, got her
+warm water, and asked if she would like a maid to do her hair.</p>
+
+<p>After a little while she came for her again and took her into a very
+pretty room, where there was a dainty little table laid for breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>"When you have finished," she said, "just lie on the sofa and rest. I am
+sorry I can't stay with you, but I must go and feed the peacocks."</p>
+<div><a name="hostess" id="hostess"></a></div>
+<div class="figright" style="width: 232px;">
+<img src="images/18.jpg" width="232" height="400" alt="HER HOSTESS HAD BEEN FEEDING THE PEACOCKS." title="HER HOSTESS HAD BEEN FEEDING THE PEACOCKS." />
+<span class="caption">HER HOSTESS HAD BEEN FEEDING THE PEACOCKS.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Dorothy took a little toast and tea, but she did not feel so very hungry
+after all, and for a time was quite glad to lie down on the couch. Once
+or twice she got up and looked out of the window. Her girl hostess was
+moving across the lawn. She had evidently been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>feeding the peacocks,
+and was now gathering flowers. How pleasant all this wealth and comfort
+seemed to Dorothy! And then, by comparison, <i>she</i> was feeling so
+miserable!</p>
+
+<p>Everything was quite quiet in the house save for the telephone bell,
+which kept sounding in the hall. Then she heard Mr. Lawrence calling
+out: "Are you <i>there?</i> Look sharp! Yes, to-day. Money down! Do you
+understand?" Then he would ring off and call up some one else. Last of
+all his voice changed from a business tone to a very friendly one. "Are
+you there? What cheer, old chap? <i>That's</i> all right! I'll see you
+through. Two o'clock, Holborn Restaurant."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy could not hear what was said on the other side. How surprised
+she would have been if she had known the last conversation was with her
+own father!</p>
+
+<p>Then a very kind-looking lady came in and kissed her. "The motor is
+round," she said. "I'm so glad to have seen you, dear. We all admire
+your father very much."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy felt bewildered but followed her out, and there was a lovely
+motor, and her friend in it!</p>
+
+<p>"You won't faint by the way this time," he said, "eh? Now, if you can
+keep your own counsel, little lady, you may hear some good news
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>They were tearing along the level road already, and almost in a flash,
+it seemed to Dorothy, they were passing the church of her own village.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please let me get out!" she said to Mr. Lawrence in an agony. "If
+mother heard the motor she might think it was Miss Addiscombe, and be so
+disappointed. You have been kind, very, very kind, but I can't help
+thinking about father."</p>
+
+<p>He let her out, and waving his hand, was soon off and out of sight.
+Dorothy walked slowly and sadly home. It seemed as if she had been away
+for <i>days</i>, and she was half afraid to go in, but to her surprise
+nothing seemed to have happened at all. Only Dick came rushing out, and,
+to her surprise, kissed her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Heroine</div>
+
+<p>"I say, Dollie!" he began, "where <i>have</i> you been? You gave me an awful
+fright. Don't tell any one I called you a brute."</p>
+
+<p>"Is mother frightened?" said Dollie. "I&mdash;I meant to help, but I've done
+nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"How could you help?" said Dick, surprised. "Mother stayed in bed; she
+is only getting up now."</p>
+
+<p>A boy came up with a telegram. Dick took it and after holding it a
+moment tore it open.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Dick!" expostulated Dorothy, "opening mother's telegram!"</p>
+
+<p>But Dick threw his cap high up in the air, and shouted "<i>Jubilate!</i>"
+Then he rushed up the stairs, Dorothy timidly following.</p>
+
+<p>This was the wire:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>See daylight. Meeting Lawrence at Holborn
+Restaurant.</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">Father</span>."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't shut Dorothy out," said Mrs. Graham, holding the yellow paper,
+and with tears of joy standing in her eyes. "Why, my little girl, how
+pale you are! I wish I had not told you. You need never have known. Mr.
+Lawrence is just the man."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother!" said Dorothy, springing into her arms, and beginning to
+laugh and cry at once, yet happier than she had ever been in her life
+before. "But if you hadn't told me it couldn't have happened."</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Lawrence and father came down together that evening and the
+whole story was told, Dorothy, to her surprise, found when thinking
+least about herself she had suddenly become a heroine, even in the eyes
+of Dick.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A Strange Moose Hunt</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Henry William Dawson</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">A very unusual hunting episode, that nearly ended in a
+tragedy.</div>
+
+<p>Some years ago, while living in Canada, in a village situated on the
+bank of a large river, I was a spectator of a moose hunt of a most novel
+and exciting character.</p>
+
+<p>That you may the better understand what I am going to relate I will
+first introduce you to our village Nimrod.</p>
+
+<p>As his real name is no concern of ours I will here give him his popular
+nickname of "Ramrod," a name by which he was well known not only in our
+village but for a considerable distance around. It was conferred upon
+him, I suppose, because he walked so upright and stiff, and also perhaps
+because he at one time had worn the Queen's uniform.</p>
+
+<p>A queer old stick was Ramrod. He knew a little of most mechanical things
+and was for ever tinkering at something or other, useful or otherwise as
+the case might be. He could also "doctor" a sick cow or dog, and was
+even known to have successfully set the broken leg of an old and
+combative rooster.</p>
+
+<p>His mechanical turn of mind was continually leading him to the
+construction of the most wonderful arrange<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>ments of wood and iron ever
+seen. In fact, his operations in this direction were only held in check
+by one want, but that a great one, namely, the want of a sufficiency of
+cash.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Mystery</div>
+
+<p>Now for the greater part of one spring Ramrod had shut himself up in his
+woodshed, and there he was heard busy with hammer and saw all day long,
+except when called forth by the tinkle of the little bell attached to
+the door of his shop, where almost anything might have been purchased.</p>
+
+<p>Many were the guesses as to "what can Ramrod be up to now?" And often
+did we boys try to catch a glimpse of what was going on within that
+mysterious shed; but in vain. Ramrod seemed to be always on the alert,
+and the instant an intrusive boy's head appeared above the first dusty
+pane of the small window by which the shed was lighted, it was greeted
+with a fierce and harsh gar-r-ar-r-r, often accompanied with a dash of
+cold water, which the old fellow always seemed to have in readiness.</p>
+
+<p>But one day as a lot of youngsters were down on the river bank preparing
+for an early swim they were startled by the advent of another lad, who,
+with scared looks and awful voice, declared that Ramrod was "making his
+own coffin," and that he, the boy, had seen it with his own eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The rumour spread, and many were the visits paid that afternoon to the
+little shop by the river.</p>
+
+<p>But Ramrod kept his secret well, and baffled curiosity had to return as
+wise as it came. Ramrod was determined that his work should not be
+criticised until completed. He had evidently heard the saying that
+"women, children, and fools should not be allowed to see a thing until
+finished."</p>
+
+<p>At last one day the great work <i>was</i> completed, and turned out to be,
+not a coffin, but what the happy builder called a boat. But to call it a
+boat was a misnomer, for the thing was to be propelled not by oars but
+by a paddle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And certainly through all the ages since the construction of the ark of
+Noah was never such a boat as this. It would be impossible to convey in
+words a true idea of what the craft was like. Perhaps to take an
+ordinary boat, give it a square stern, a flat bottom without a keel, and
+straight sides tapering to a point at the bow, would give an approximate
+idea of what the thing actually was, and also how difficult to navigate.</p>
+
+<p>The winter had been unusually uneventful. Nothing had happened to break
+the cold monotony of our village life, so that when one day an excited
+and panting individual rushed up the river bank screaming out "A moose,
+a moose in the river!" it was only natural that we should all be thrown
+into a state of ferment.</p>
+
+<p>Some who possessed firearms rushed off to get them out, while others ran
+along the bank seeking a boat.</p>
+
+<p>As, however, the ice having only just "run," the boats and punts
+ordinarily fringing the river were still all up in the various barns and
+sheds where they had been stowed at the close of navigation, their
+efforts were in vain, and they could only stand fuming and casting
+longing eyes at the now retreating moose.</p>
+
+<p>For of course the animal had turned as soon as he perceived the hubbub
+which his appearance under such unusual circumstances had created.
+Instead, therefore, of crossing the river, it now made for an island
+which was about half a mile out in the stream.</p>
+
+<p>It had a good distance to swim, however, before it could accomplish
+that, and in the meantime preparations were being made a short way up
+the river which promised serious trouble for Mr. Moose.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, you may be sure that Ramrod had caught the excitement with
+the rest of us, and was equally desirous of the capture of the moose.
+But he was a modest man and would let others have a chance first.</p>
+
+<p>After a little while, though, when it became evident that unless
+something was done pretty soon the moose <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>would escape, it was noticed
+that he became graver, and that his face wore a puzzled look of
+uncertainty.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Ramrod's "Coffin"</div>
+
+<p>All at once, however, the doubt vanished, and Ramrod started off towards
+his house as fast as his long stiff legs would carry him.</p>
+
+<p>When he emerged he bore in one hand an ordinary rope halter, with a
+noose at one end, just such a halter as was used by all the farmers for
+securing their horses to their stalls. In his other hand was a paddle,
+and with these harmless-looking implements he was about to start in
+chase of the moose.</p>
+
+<p>Quickly proceeding to the river bank, he drew out from beneath a clump
+of bushes the "coffin," and, unheeding alike the warnings of the elders
+and derisive shouts of the youngsters, elicited by the appearance of his
+curious-looking craft, he knelt down in the stern and set out on his
+perilous adventure.</p>
+
+<p>But he had not gone far before it was seen that something was wrong.</p>
+
+<p>The boat had a will of its own, and that will was evidently exerted in
+direct opposition to the will of its owner.</p>
+
+<p>It went, but how? No schoolboy ever drew a truer circle with a bit of
+string and a slate-pencil than that cranky craft made on the placid
+surface of the river each time Ramrod put a little extra strength into
+his stroke.</p>
+
+<p>At last, however, the gallant boatman managed to make headway, and,
+aided by the current, he now rapidly approached the moose, which was
+considerably distressed by the great length of its swim.</p>
+
+<p>But the instant the animal became aware that it was being pursued, it
+redoubled its efforts to gain the island, which was not very distant.
+And this it would have succeeded in doing had it not been for the almost
+herculean exertions of Ramrod, by which it was eventually headed up
+stream again.</p>
+
+<p>And now a stern chase up and down and across the river ensued. It really
+did not last long, though <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span>it seemed hours to us who were watching from
+the bank.</p>
+
+<p>Just as Ramrod thought he had made sure of the moose this time, and
+dropping his paddle would seize the halter to throw <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'ever'">over</ins> the head of the
+animal, the latter would make a sudden turn, and before the baffled
+hunter could regain command of his boat, would be well on his way down
+stream again.</p>
+
+<p>All this time the crowd collected on the bank were greatly concerned
+about Ramrod's safety.</p>
+
+<p>They saw, what he did not, that the affair would end in his getting a
+ducking at the very least. But worse than that was feared, as, once
+overturned, the miserable conception of a boat would be beyond the power
+of any one in the water to right it again. And, moreover, the water was
+still intensely cold, and a very few minutes would have sufficed to give
+the cramp to a much stronger man than Ramrod.</p>
+
+<p>Perceiving all this, some of the more energetic had from the first
+bestirred themselves in preparations for launching a boat.</p>
+
+<p>But this occupied some time, for, as I have said, the boats usually to
+be seen fringing the bank during the summer months had not yet made
+their appearance. Oars also and tholepins had to be hunted up, and by
+the time all this was accomplished the need of help out there on the
+river was very urgent indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Plenty of pluck had Ramrod, or he would have given up the chase when he
+found himself becoming so exhausted, by the tremendous exertion
+necessary to keep control of his cranky craft, that he had scarcely
+sufficient strength left to follow the deer in its many dodges and
+turnings.</p>
+
+<p>But strong as the moose was, its time had come. Suddenly the animal
+stopped, gave a scream that made the blood curdle in all our veins, and
+would have sunk out of sight only that, with a last desperate effort,
+Ramrod got up with it, and this time succeeded in throwing the halter
+over its head and drawing the noose tight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">An Upset</div>
+
+<p>Thoroughly exhausted as the moose appeared to be, this act of Ramrod's
+roused it to make one more effort for life and freedom. Turning quickly
+about and snorting furiously, it made for its assailant, and before
+Ramrod could check it had capsized the boat and sent that worthy head
+over heels into the water.</p>
+
+<p>Presence of mind is a splendid quality, and Ramrod possessed it to the
+full. Retaining his hold of the halter, he endeavoured to right the
+boat, but soon perceiving the impossibility of so doing, he relinquished
+the attempt, and being a good swimmer, boldly struck out for the island,
+that being the nearest land.</p>
+
+<p>Refreshed by his involuntary bath, and not yet feeling the effects of
+the cold, Ramrod made no doubt but that he should easily accomplish the
+task.</p>
+
+<p>As for the moose, it was completely done up, and was now no more trouble
+than a log of wood. The effort by which it had overturned the boat was
+the last it made, and its captor was now quietly towing it ashore.</p>
+
+<p>But cold water does not agree with all constitutions, especially if the
+body has been fatigued and heated before its application.</p>
+
+<p>Cramp seized upon poor Ramrod, and though he made a gallant and
+desperate struggle to reach land with the aid of his arms alone, he felt
+that only by a miracle could he do so.</p>
+
+<p>Moment by moment he felt himself growing weaker and less able to
+withstand the chill which was striking through to his very heart.</p>
+
+<p>At last the supreme moment came. He could go no farther. Brave and
+collected to the last, he raised his eyes to heaven as in thought he
+commended his soul to his Maker.</p>
+
+<p>At that instant the sound of oars struck his ear, and the hope it
+brought him gave him sufficient strength to keep up until a friendly
+hand grasped him under the arm.</p>
+
+<p>With his last little bit of strength he raised his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span>hand, still grasping
+the halter, and smiled triumphantly; then he lost consciousness.</p>
+
+<p>The "coffin" was brought ashore afterwards, but no one had the hardihood
+to navigate it. Even towing it was a trial of temper, for it kept
+swinging from side to side with a heavy jerking motion with every pull
+at the oars.</p>
+
+<p>Ramrod, I am glad to say, lived to have many a quiet paddle in his queer
+boat whenever he went a-fishing; and this, it appears, was all he
+intended it for when he built it.</p>
+
+<p>Thus ended this famous moose hunt, but the talk of it lasted for many a
+year; and whenever a pleasure-party were out on the river enjoying a
+sail by moonlight, this was the one story that was never stale, and
+mention of "Ramrod's coffin" would cause a smile to appear on the face
+of even the most grave.</p>
+
+<p>The moose, when brought ashore, proved to be quite young, though
+full-grown, as its horns were not much more than "buds."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A Girl's Patience</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">C. J. Blake</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">Edith Harley was called upon to play a rather difficult part.
+But her patience and her obedience to the call of duty brought their own
+reward.</div>
+
+<p>"A letter from Rachel! Is it possible she can have relented at last?"</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Harley looked across the breakfast-table at his wife as he spoke;
+and the children, of all ages and sizes, who were busy with their bowls
+of porridge, stopped the clatter of tongues and spoons to listen.</p>
+
+<p>"Read it, dear," said Mrs. Harley, in her slow, gentle voice. "It must
+be ten years since Rachel wrote that last dreadful letter. Surely she
+must have learnt to forgive and forget by this time!"</p>
+
+<p>"Send some of these children away, then. Maude and Jessie can stay; but
+it is time the others were getting ready for lessons."</p>
+
+<p>There was a hurried, scrambling finish of the simple breakfast; then a
+little troop of boys and girls filed out of the rather shabby
+dining-room, and Dr. and Mrs. Harley were alone with their elder
+daughters.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"'<span class="smcap">My dear Brother</span>,'" began the
+doctor,&mdash;"'I am growing an old woman now, and in
+spite of the good reasons I had for ceasing to
+write, or to communicate with you in any way, I do
+not feel that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> I can keep up the estrangement from
+my own flesh and blood any longer.</p>
+
+<p>"'If you like to let bygones be bygones, I, on my
+side, am quite willing to do the same. I am
+writing, too, because I have heard a good deal, in
+one way or another, about your large and expensive
+family, and the difficulty you have in making both
+ends meet. It has been more than hinted to me that
+I ought to render, or at least offer, you some
+assistance. I have thought perhaps the best thing
+would be to take one of your girls for a six
+months' visit; to stay longer, or, indeed, always,
+if I should, after such a trial, continue to be
+pleased with her.</p>
+
+<p>"'I don't want a young child, but one old enough
+to be companionable. Of course I would provide for
+education, and everything, so long as she stayed
+with me. It would surely be a relief to have even
+one of such a number taken off your hands, and it
+would be the girl's own fault if the relief were
+not made permanent. If this should meet your
+views, write at once, and fix a date for one of
+your daughters to come to me. Your affectionate
+sister, </p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+"'<span class="smcap">Rachel Harley.</span>'"<br />
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>"Oh, papa!" exclaimed Maude and Jessie in a breath, "how could we ever
+leave you, and dear mamma too! We should be miserable away from home."</p>
+
+<p>"From Aunt Rachel's letter, I should think she must be a dreadfully
+stiff sort of person," added audacious Jessie. "Please don't say that we
+shall have to go."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so fast, my dear," returned her father. "Only one of you all can
+go, and I do not think either you or Maude could possibly be spared. But
+what does mamma say?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know my wretched health, Henry," said Mrs. Harley. "I never could
+do without Maude to look after the housekeeping; and Jessie saves both
+school and governess for the younger ones. But then there is Edith. Why
+should not Edith go?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Edith Harley</div>
+
+<p>"Why, indeed?" repeated the doctor. "Edith does nothing but mischief&mdash;at
+least, so far as the account of her doings reaches my ears. She is quite
+too big for Jessie to teach, and we cannot afford to send her to a good
+school at present, which is the thing that ought to be done. It really
+seems to me a providential opening for Edith."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Edie!" sighed the mother again. "It would be a hard life for her,
+I am afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nonsense, Maria! You were always unjust to Rachel. You think,
+because she took such deep offence, that there can be nothing good in
+her. Surely I ought to know my own sister's character! Rachel would do
+her duty by any inmate of her home&mdash;of that I am quite certain."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Henry, it would be a help in many ways. Edith is growing such a
+great girl, nearly fifteen now, and if it would lighten your cares to
+have her provided for, I ought not to resist. But at least it would be
+well to let her know what you think of doing, and hear what she says."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that what she says need affect the question much. The fact
+is, Maria, something will have to be done. We are exceeding what we can
+afford even now, and the children will be growing more expensive instead
+of less so. For my own part, I can only feel glad of Rachel's offer. I
+must go now; but you can tell Edith, if you like; and tell her, too, to
+hold herself in readiness, for the sooner the matter is settled the
+better."</p>
+
+<p>Edith Harley, called indifferently by her brothers and sisters the
+Middle One and the Odd One, was the third daughter and the fifth child
+of this family of nine. She was a rather tall, awkward girl, who grew
+out of her frocks, and tumbled her hair, and scandalised her elder
+sisters, in their pretty prim young ladyhood, by playing with the boys
+and clinging obstinately, in spite of her fifteen years, to her hoop and
+skipping-rope. An unfortunate child was this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span>chosen one, always getting
+into scrapes, and being credited with more mischief than she ever really
+did.</p>
+
+<p>It was Edith who had caught the whooping-cough through playing with some
+of the village children, and had brought it home, to be the plague of
+all the nine for a whole winter and spring.</p>
+
+<p>It was Edith who took Johnnie and Francie down to the pondside to play,
+and let them both tumble in. True, she went bravely in herself and
+rescued them, but that did not count for very much. They were terribly
+wet, and if they had been drowned it would have been all her fault.</p>
+
+<p>It was Edith who let Tom's chickens out for a run, and the cat came and
+killed two of them; that was just before she forgot to shut the
+paddock-gate, when the donkey got into mamma's flower-garden and spoilt
+all the best plants.</p>
+
+<p>So poor Edith went on from day to day, thankful if she could only lay
+her head upon her pillow at night without being blamed for some fresh
+escapade, yet thoroughly happy in the freedom of her country life, in
+the enjoyment of long summer-day rambles, and endless games with the
+little brothers, who thought her "the jolliest girl that ever was," and
+followed her lead without scruple, sure that whatever mischief she might
+get them into she would bravely shield them from the consequences.</p>
+
+<p>A country doctor, with a not very lucrative practice, Dr. Harley had,
+when Edith was about ten years old, sustained a severe pecuniary loss
+which greatly reduced his income. It was then that the governess had to
+be given up, and the twin boys who came next to Maude and Jessie were
+sent to a cheaper school. These boys were leaving now, one to go to the
+university, through the kindness of a distant relative, the other to
+pass a few weeks with the London coach who would prepare him for a Civil
+Service examination.</p>
+
+<p>Jessie, a nice, clever girl, with a decided taste for music, could teach
+the four younger ones very well&mdash;had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span>done so, indeed, ever since Miss
+Phipps left; but in this, as in everything, Edith was the family
+problem. She could not, or would not, learn much from Jessie; she hated
+the piano and needlework, and even professed not to care for books.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Would it help Papa?"</div>
+
+<p>Yet she astonished the entire family sometimes by knowing all sorts of
+odd out-of-the-way facts; she could find an apt quotation from some
+favourite poet for almost any occasion, and did a kind of queer
+miscellaneous reading in "a hole-and-corner way," as her brother Tom
+said, that almost drove the sister-governess to distraction.</p>
+
+<p>And now the choice of a companion for Miss Rachel Harley, the stern,
+middle-aged aunt, whom even the elder girls could scarcely remember to
+have seen, had fallen upon Edith.</p>
+
+<p>The news came to her first as a great blow. There could not be very much
+sympathy between the gentle, ailing, slightly querulous mother and the
+vigorous, active girl; yet Edith had very strong, if half-concealed,
+home affections, and it hurt her more than she cared to show that even
+her mother seemed to feel a sort of relief in the prospect of her going
+away for so long.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you <i>mind</i> my going, mamma?" she said at last, with a little
+accent of surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Edith dear, papa and I think it will be such a good thing for you
+and for us all. You have been too young, of course, to be told about
+money matters, but perhaps I may tell you now, for I am sure you are old
+enough to understand, that papa has a great many expenses, and is often
+very much worried. There are so many of you," added the poor mother,
+thinking with a sigh of her own powerlessness to do much towards lifting
+the burden which pressed so heavily upon her husband's shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think it would help papa, then, if I went?" asked the girl
+slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I do. You would have a good home for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span>a time, at all events; and
+if your Aunt Rachel should take to you, as we may hope she will if you
+earnestly try to please her, she may be a friend to you always."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, then; I shall try my best to do as you and papa wish."</p>
+
+<p>That was all Edith said, and Mrs. Harley was quite surprised. She had
+expected tears and protests, stormy and passionate remonstrances&mdash;not
+this quiet submission so unlike Edith.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps no one understood the girl less than her own mother. It might
+have helped Mrs. Harley to know something of her daughter's inner nature
+if she could have seen her, after their talk together, steal quietly up
+to the nursery, where there were only the little ones at play, and,
+throwing her arms round little Francie, burst into a fit of quiet
+sobbing that fairly frightened the child.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Edie? Don't cry, Edie! Francie'll give you a kiss, twenty
+kisses, if you won't cry," said the pretty baby voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Your poor Edie's going away, and it will break her heart to leave you,
+my pet," said the girl through her tears, straining the child in a
+passionate embrace. Presently she grew calmer, and put the wondering
+little one down.</p>
+
+<p>"There, Francie, I've done crying now, and you needn't mind. You'll
+always love Edie, won't you, if she does go away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, always, always love Edie," said the child; and Johnnie chimed in
+too, "And me&mdash;me always love Edie."</p>
+
+<p>But there were the boys to be told after that&mdash;Alfred and Claude, the
+two bright boys of ten and eight years, who had been her own especial
+playmates; and loud was their outcry when they heard that Edith was
+going.</p>
+
+<p>"We might as well have no sisters," said the ungrateful young rascals.
+"Maude and Jessie don't care for us. They only think we're in the way.
+They're <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>always telling us to wipe our feet, and not make such a noise;
+and Francie's too little for anything. We'd only got Edith, and now
+she's to go. It's too bad, that it is!"</p>
+
+<p>But their protest availed nothing. The very same night Dr. Harley wrote
+to his sister, thanking her for her kind offer, and adding that, if
+convenient, he would bring his daughter Edith, fifteen years of age, to
+her aunt's home at Silchester in a week's time.</p>
+
+<p>There was much to do in that short week in getting Edith's wardrobe into
+something like order. Each of the elder sisters sacrificed one of their
+limited number of dresses to be cut down and altered for the younger
+one.</p>
+
+<p>The May sunshine of a rather late spring was beginning to grow warm and
+genial at last, and the girl really must have a new hat and gloves and
+shoes, and one or two print frocks, before she could possibly put in an
+appearance at Aunt Rachel's.</p>
+
+<p>Almost anything had done for running about the lanes at Winchcomb, where
+every one knew the Harleys, and respected them far more for not going
+beyond their means, than they would have done for any quantity of fine
+apparel.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Good-bye'">Goodbye</ins>!</div>
+
+<p>But the preparations were finished at last, the goodbyes were said, and
+Edith, leaving home for the first time in her life, sat gravely by her
+father's side in the train that was timed to reach Silchester by six in
+the evening.</p>
+
+<p>She had been up very early that morning, before any of the others were
+astir; and when she was dressed, went out into the garden, where she
+could be alone, to think her last thoughts of the wonderful change in
+her life.</p>
+
+<p>She had gone on always so carelessly and happily, that the new turn of
+affairs sobered and startled her. She seemed to herself to say goodbye,
+not only to her home, but to the long, bright, happy childhood that had
+been spent there. And her thoughts were full <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>of the few words Mrs.
+Harley had spoken about her papa's expenses and worries.</p>
+
+<p>"If I had only known," she said to herself; "if I had only thought about
+things, I would have tried to learn more, and be some help while I was
+here. But it is no use grieving about that now; it seems to me I am come
+to what our rector calls a 'turning point.' I can begin from to-day to
+act in a different way, and I will. I will just think in everything how
+I can help them all at home. I will try to please Aunt Rachel, and get
+her to like me, and then perhaps I shall grow in time to bear the
+thought of staying with her for a long, long while. Only, my poor boys
+and my dear little Johnnie and Francie&mdash;I did think I should have had
+you always. But it will be good for you, too, if I get on well at
+Silchester."</p>
+
+<p>When she had gone so far, Nancy, the housemaid, came out with broom and
+bucket, and the mingled sounds of laughing and crying, and babel of many
+voices that floated out through the opened windows, told Edith that the
+family were rising for the last breakfast together.</p>
+
+<p>It was a good thing when all the farewells were over, and for the first
+few miles of the journey she was thankful to sit in silence in the
+stuffy second-class carriage, and use all her strength of will to keep
+back the tears that would try to come.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa," she said shyly, as her father laid down his newspaper, and woke
+up to the fact that the two ladies who had begun the journey with them
+had got out at the last station&mdash;"papa, I want you to promise me
+something, please."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Edith, what is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to promise not to tell Aunt Rachel about all the things that
+I have done&mdash;while I was at home, I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"You have never done anything very dreadful, child," said the doctor
+with a smile. "Your Aunt Rachel has not been accustomed to little girls,
+it is <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>true; but I suppose she won't expect you to be quite like an old
+woman."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"I will do my very best"</div>
+
+<p>"No; but if she knew about Johnnie and Francie falling into the water,
+and about the chickens, and how Alfred and I let Farmer Smith's cow into
+the potato-field, and the other things, she might not understand that I
+am going to be different; and I shall be different&mdash;I shall indeed,
+papa."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Edith, it is time you began to be more thoughtful, and to remember
+that there are things in the world, even for boys and girls, far more
+important than play. If it will be any comfort to you, I will readily
+promise not to mention the cow, or the chickens, or even that famous
+water escapade. But I shall trust to your own good sense and knowledge
+of what is right, and shall expect you to make for yourself a good
+character with your aunt. You may be sure she will, from the first, be
+influenced much more by your behaviour than by anything I can say."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know," murmured Edith. "I will do my very best."</p>
+
+<p>She would have liked to say something about helping her father in his
+difficulties, but the shyness that generally overcame her when she
+talked to him prevented any further words on the subject; and Dr. Harley
+began to draw her attention to the objects of interest they were
+passing, and to remark that in another twenty minutes they would be
+half-way to Silchester.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed a long while to Edith before the train drew up in the large,
+glass-roofed station, so different from the little platform at
+Winchcomb, with the station-master's white cottage and fragrant
+flower-borders. Silchester is not a very large town, but to the
+country-bred girl the noise and bustle of the station, and of the first
+two or three streets through which they were driven in the cab Dr.
+Harley had called, seemed almost bewildering.</p>
+
+<p>Very soon, however, they began to leave shops and busy pavements behind,
+and to pass pretty, fancifully-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span>built villas, with very high-sounding
+names, and trim flower-gardens in front. Even these ceased after a
+while, and there were first some extensive nursery grounds, and then
+green open fields on each hand.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be quite the country after all, papa!" exclaimed Edith,
+surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite, Edith. You will only be two or three miles out of
+Silchester, instead of twenty miles from everywhere, as we are at
+Winchcomb. Look! that is Aunt Rachel's house, just where the old Milford
+Lane turns out of the road&mdash;that house at the corner, I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"Where?" said Edith, half-bewildered. Her unaccustomed eyes could see
+nothing but greenery and flowers at first, for Miss Harley's long, low,
+two-storey cottage was entirely overgrown with dense masses of ivy and
+other creeping plants. It stood well back from the road, in a grassy,
+old-fashioned garden, shaded by some fine elms; and one magnificent
+pear-tree, just now glorious in a robe of white blossoms, grew beside
+the entrance-gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa, what a lovely old house!" cried the girl involuntarily. "Did
+you know it was like this?"</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Harley smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you think it lovely, Edith. I have often wondered, for my own
+part, why your aunt should bury herself here. But come&mdash;jump out; there
+she is at the door. The King's Majesty would not draw her to the garden
+gate, I think."</p>
+
+<p>Edith got out of the cab, feeling like a girl in a dream, and followed
+her father up the gravel walk, noting mechanically the gorgeous
+colouring of tulips and hyacinths that filled the flower-beds on either
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>A tall, grey-haired lady, well advanced in life, came slowly forward,
+holding out a thin, cold hand, and saying in a frigid tone, "Well,
+brother, so we meet again after these ten years. I hope you are well,
+and have left your wife and family well also."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Doubtful Welcome</div>
+
+<p>"Quite well, thank you, Rachel, excepting Maria, who is never very well,
+you know," said the doctor heartily, taking the half-proffered hand in
+both his. "And how are you, after all this long time? You don't look a
+day older than when we parted."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry I cannot return the compliment," remarked the lady, with a
+grim smile. "I suppose it is all the care and worry of your great family
+of children that have aged you so. And Maria was always such a poor,
+shiftless creature. I daresay, now, with all that your boys and girls
+cost you, you have two or three servants to keep, instead of making the
+girls work, and saving the wages and the endless waste that the best of
+servants make."</p>
+
+<p>"We have but two," said the doctor, in a slightly irritated tone of
+voice. "My girls and their mother are ladies, Rachel, if they are poor.
+I can't let them do the rough work. For the rest, they have their hands
+pretty full, I can assure you. You have little idea, living here as you
+do, how much there is to be done for a family of nine children."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am thankful to say I have not. But you had better come in, and
+bring the girl with you."</p>
+
+<p>With these ungracious words Aunt Rachel cast her eyes for the first time
+upon Edith, who had stood a silent and uncomfortable listener while her
+father and aunt were talking.</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!" ejaculated Miss Harley, after looking her niece over from top
+to toe with a piercing, scrutinising gaze, that seemed to take in every
+detail of figure, face, and toilette, and to disapprove of all; "humph!
+The child looks healthy, and that is all I can say for her. But bring
+her in, Henry&mdash;Stimson and the boy can see to her box. I suppose you
+will stay yourself for to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should not be able to go home to-night, as you know," replied Dr.
+Harley. "But if my staying would be at all inconvenient, I can go to one
+of the Silchester hotels."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His sister Rachel proved to be the same irritating, cross-grained woman
+he had quarrelled with and parted from so long before, and he was a
+little disappointed, for it is wonderful how time softens our thoughts
+of one another, and how true it is that&mdash;</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="No distance breaks">
+<tr><td align='left'>"No distance breaks the tie of blood,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Brothers are brothers evermore."</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div class='unindent'>Although Miss Rachel ruffled and annoyed him at every second
+word&mdash;"rubbed him up the wrong way," as her maid Stimson would have
+said&mdash;the doctor had a real regard for her in his heart, and respected
+her as a woman of sterling principle, and one whose worst faults were
+all upon the surface.</div>
+
+<p>"There is no need to talk about hotels," and Miss Harley drew herself
+up, half-offended in her turn. "It's a pity if I can't find houseroom
+for my own brother, let him stay as long as he will. Now, Edith, if that
+is your name, go along with Stimson, and she will show you your room,
+where you can take off your hat and things. And be sure, mind you brush
+your hair, child, and tie it up, or something. Don't come down with it
+hanging all wild about your shoulders like that."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Edith's heart sank. She was rather proud of her luxuriant brown
+tresses, which her mother had always allowed her to wear in all their
+length and beauty, and she did not even know how to tie them up herself.</p>
+
+<p>"This way, miss," said the prim, elderly servant. "I knew as soon as I
+saw you that your hair would never do for Miss Harley. I'll fix it
+neatly for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you!" said Edith, much relieved; and in a few minutes all the
+flowing locks were gathered into one stiff braid, and tied at the end
+with a piece of black ribbon.</p>
+
+<p>"There, now you look more like a young lady should!" cried Stimson,
+surveying her handiwork with pleasure. "You'll always find me ready to
+oblige <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span>you, miss, if you'll only try to please Miss Harley; and you
+won't mind my saying that I hope you'll be comfortable here, and manage
+to stay, for it's frightful lonely in the house sometimes, and some one
+young about the place would do the mistress and me good, I'm sure."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Great Improvement</div>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you!" said Edith again. She could not trust herself to say
+more, for the words, that she felt were kindly meant, almost made her
+cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you had better go down to the parlour," Stimson went on. "Miss
+Harley and your papa won't expect you to be long, and the tea is ready,
+I know."</p>
+
+<p>With a beating heart Edith stepped down the wide, old-fashioned
+staircase, and went shyly in at the door which Stimson opened for her.
+She found herself in a large, handsomely-furnished room, where the table
+was laid for tea; and Miss Harley sat before the tray, already busy with
+cups and saucers.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, Edith, and sit where I can see you. Yes, that is a great
+improvement. Your hair looks tidy and respectable now."</p>
+
+<p>After this greeting, to Edith's great relief, she was left to take her
+tea in peace and silence, the doctor and his sister being occupied in
+conversation about their early days, and continually mentioning the
+names of persons and places of whom she knew little or nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Only once the girl started to hear her aunt say, "I always told you,
+Henry, that it was a great mistake. With your talents you might have
+done almost anything; and here you are, a man still in middle life,
+saddled and encumbered with a helpless invalid wife and half a score of
+children, to take all you earn faster than you can get it. It is a mere
+wasted existence, and if you had listened to me it might all have been
+different."</p>
+
+<p>"How cruel!" exclaimed Edith to herself indignantly. "Does Aunt Rachel
+think I am a stock or <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>a stone, to sit and hear my mother&mdash;all of
+us&mdash;spoken about like that? I shall never, never be able to bear it!"</p>
+
+<p>Even the doctor was roused. "Once for all, Rachel," he said in a
+peremptory tone, "you must understand that I cannot allow my wife and
+children to be spoken of in this manner. No doubt I have had to make
+sacrifices, but my family have been a source of much happiness to me;
+and Maria, who cannot help her health, poor thing! has done her best
+under circumstances that would have crushed a great many women. As for
+the children, of course they have their faults, but altogether they are
+good children, and I often feel proud of them. You have been kind enough
+to ask Edith to stay here, but if I thought you would make her life
+unhappy with such speeches as you made just now, I would take her back
+with me to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," said Miss Harley, a little frightened at the indignation
+she had raised. "You need not take me up so, Henry. Of course I shall
+not be so foolish as to talk to the child just as I would to you. I have
+her interest and yours truly at heart; and since I don't want to quarrel
+with you again, we will say no more of your wife and family. If you have
+quite finished, perhaps we might take a turn in the garden."</p>
+
+<p>The rest of the evening passed quietly away. Edith was glad when the
+time came to go to her room, only she so dreaded the morrow, that would
+have to be passed in Aunt Rachel's company, without her father's
+protecting presence.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after breakfast in the morning the doctor had to say goodbye. It
+was a hard parting for both father and daughter. Edith had never known
+how dearly she loved that busy and often-anxious father till she was
+called to let him go. As for the doctor, he was scarcely less moved, and
+Miss Rachel had to hurry him away at last, or he would have lost the
+train it was so important he should catch.</p>
+
+<p>Somehow the doctor never could be spared from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> Winchcomb. There was no
+other medical man for miles round, and people seemed to expect Dr.
+Harley to work on from year's end to year's end, without ever needing
+rest or recreation himself.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Close Examination</div>
+
+<p>As soon as they were left alone, Miss Rachel called Edith into the
+parlour, and bidding her sit down, began a rigorous inquiry as to her
+capabilities and accomplishments&mdash;whether she had been to school, or had
+had a governess; whether she was well grounded in music, and had studied
+drawing and languages; what she knew of plain and fancy needlework; if
+her mother had made her begin to learn cookery&mdash;"as all young women
+should," added Miss Rachel, sensibly enough.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Edith's answers were very far from satisfying Miss Harley.</p>
+
+<p>"You say you have had no teacher but your sister since Miss Phelps, or
+Phipps, or whatever her name was, left. And how old is your sister, may
+I ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jessie is eighteen," answered Edith. "And she is very clever&mdash;every one
+says so, especially at music."</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't she teach you, then, and make you practise regularly? You
+tell me you have had no regular practice, and cannot play more than two
+or three pieces."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not Jessie's fault," said Edith, colouring up. "Papa and mamma
+liked us all to learn, but I am afraid, aunt, I have no natural talent
+for music. I get on better with some other things."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Rachel opened a French book that lay on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Read that," she said shortly, pointing to the open page.</p>
+
+<p>Edith was at home here; her pronunciation was rather original, it is
+true, but she read with ease and fluency, and translated the page
+afterwards without any awkward pauses.</p>
+
+<p>"That is better," said her aunt, more graciously. "You shall have some
+lessons. As for the music,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> I don't believe in making girls, who can't
+tell the National Anthem from the Old Hundredth, strum on the piano
+whether they like it or not. You may learn drawing instead. And then I
+shall expect you to read with me&mdash;good solid authors, you know, not
+poetry and romances, which are all the girls of the present day seem to
+care for."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, aunt," said Edith. "I should like to learn drawing very
+much."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a while," continued Miss Harley. "Perhaps you won't thank me when
+you have heard all. I shall insist upon your learning plain needlework
+in all its branches, and getting a thorough insight into cookery and
+housekeeping. With your mother's delicate health there ought to be at
+least one of the daughters able to take her place whenever it is
+needful. Your sisters don't know much about the house, I daresay."</p>
+
+<p>"Maude does," answered Edith, proud of her sister's ability. "Maude can
+keep house well&mdash;even papa says so."</p>
+
+<p>"And Jessie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jessie says her tastes are not domestic, and she has always had enough
+to do teaching us, and looking after the little ones."</p>
+
+<p>"And what did you do?" demanded Aunt Rachel. "You can't play; you can't
+sew. By your own confession, you don't know the least thing about
+household matters. It couldn't have taken you all your time to learn a
+little French and read a few books. What <i>did</i> you do?"</p>
+
+<p>Edith blushed again.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I went out, Aunt Rachel," she said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Went out, child?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Winchcomb is a beautiful country place, you know, and Alfred and
+Claude and I were nearly always out when it was fine. We did learn
+something, even in that way, about the flowers and plants and birds and
+live creatures. Papa always said plenty of fresh air would make us
+strong and healthy, and, indeed, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span>we <i>are</i> well. As for me, I have never
+been ill that I remember since I was quite a little thing."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">We will Change all that!</div>
+
+<p>"My patience, child! And did Maria&mdash;did your mother allow you to run
+about with two boys from morning till night?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is such a quiet place, aunt, no one thought it strange. We knew all
+the people, and they were always glad to see us&mdash;nearly always," added
+truthful Edith, with a sudden remembrance of Mr. Smith's anger when he
+found his cow in the potato field, and one or two other little matters
+of a like nature.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can only say that you have been most strangely brought up. But
+we will change all that. You will now find every day full of regular
+employments, and when I cannot walk out with you I shall send Stimson.
+You must not expect to run wild any more, but give yourself to the
+improvement of your mind, and to fitting yourself for the duties of
+life. Now I have letters to write, and you may leave me till I send for
+you again. For this one day you will have to be idle, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>Edith escaped into the garden, thankful that the interview was over, and
+that, for the time at least, she was free.</p>
+
+<p>The very next day she was introduced to Monsieur Delorme, who undertook
+to come from Silchester three times a week to give her lessons in
+French, and to Mr. Sumner, who was to do the same on the three alternate
+days, for drawing. It seemed a terrible thing to Edith at first to have
+to learn from strangers; but Monsieur Delorme was a charming old
+gentleman, with all the politeness of his nation; and, as Edith proved a
+very apt pupil, they soon got on together beautifully.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Sumner was not so easy to please. A disappointed artist, who hated
+teaching, and only gave lessons from absolute necessity, this gentleman
+had but little patience with the natural inexperience of an untrained
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>But Edith had made up her mind to overcome all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>difficulties, and it was
+not very long before she began to make progress with the pencil too, and
+to enjoy the drawing-lesson almost as well as the pleasant hours with
+Monsieur Delorme.</p>
+
+<p>These were almost the only things she did enjoy, however. It was hard
+work to read for two hours every morning with Miss Rachel, who made her
+plod wearily through dreary histories and works of science that are
+reduced to compendiums and abridgements for the favoured students of the
+present day.</p>
+
+<p>But even that was better than the needlework, the hemming and stitching
+and darning, over which Stimson presided, and which, good and useful as
+it is, is apt to become terribly irksome when it is compulsory, and a
+poor girl must get through her allotted task before she can turn to any
+other pursuit.</p>
+
+<p>Every day, too, Edith went into the kitchen and learned pastry-making
+and other mysteries from the good-natured cook, who, with Stimson, and
+the boy who came daily to look after the garden and pony made up Aunt
+Rachel's household.</p>
+
+<p>What with these occupations, and the daily walk or drive, the girl found
+her time pretty well taken up, and had little to spare for the rambles
+in the garden she loved so much, and for writing letters home.</p>
+
+<p>To write and to receive letters from home were her greatest pleasures,
+for the separation tried her terribly.</p>
+
+<p>It was difficult, too, for one who had lived a free, careless life, to
+have to do everything by rule, and submit to restraint in even the
+smallest matters.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of her efforts to be cheerful and to keep from all complaining,
+Edith grew paler and thinner, and so quiet, that Aunt Rachel was quite
+pleased with what she called her niece's "becoming demeanour."</p>
+
+<p>The girl was growing fast; she was undoubtedly learning much that was
+useful and good, but no one knew what it cost her to go quietly on from
+day to day and never send one passionate word to the distant <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span>home,
+imploring her father to let her return to the beloved circle again.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Welcome Letter</div>
+
+<p>But the six months, though they had seemed such a long time to look
+forward to, flew quickly by when there were so many things to be done
+and learned in them. Edith began to wonder very much in the last few
+weeks whether she had really been able to please her aunt or not.</p>
+
+<p>It was not Miss Harley's way to praise or commend her niece at all.
+Young people required setting down and keeping in their proper places,
+she thought, rather than having their vanity flattered. Yet she could
+not be blind to Edith's honest and earnest efforts to please and to
+learn, and at the end of the six months a letter went to Winchcomb,
+which made both Dr. and Mrs. Harley proud of their child.</p>
+
+<p>"Edith has her faults, as all girls have," wrote Miss Rachel; "but I may
+tell you that ever since she came I have been pleased with her conduct.
+She makes the best use of the advantages I am able to give her, and I
+think you will find her much improved both in knowledge and deportment.
+You had better have her home for a week or two, to see you and her
+brothers and sisters, and then she can return, and consider my house her
+home always. I make no doubt that you will be glad to yield her to me
+permanently, but be good enough not to tell her how much I have said in
+her favour. I don't want the child's head turned."</p>
+
+<p>"It is very kind of Rachel," said Mrs. Harley, after reading this letter
+for the third or fourth time. "I must say I never expected Edith to get
+to the end of her six months, still less that she should gain so much
+approval. She was always such a wild, harem-scarem girl at home."</p>
+
+<p>"She only wanted looking after, my dear, and putting in a right way,"
+said the doctor, in a true masculine spirit; and Mrs. Harley answered,
+with her usual gentle little sigh:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't think that was quite all. Maude and Jessie, who have been
+brought up at home, have done well, you must admit. But I sometimes
+think there is more in Edith&mdash;more strength of character and real
+patience than we ever gave her credit for. You must excuse my saying so,
+but she could never have borne with your sister so long if she had not
+made a very great effort."</p>
+
+<p>"And now she is to go back to this tyrant of a maiden aunt," laughed the
+doctor. "But by all means let her come home first, as Rachel suggests,
+and then we shall see for ourselves, and hear how she likes the prospect
+too."</p>
+
+<p>That week or two at home seemed like a delightful dream to Edith. It is
+true the fields and woods had lost all their sweet summer beauty; but
+the mild late autumn, which lasted far into November that year, had a
+charm of its own; and then it was so pleasant to be back again in the
+dear old room which she had always shared with Jessie, to have the boys
+and Francie laughing and clinging about her, and to find that they had
+not forgotten her "one bit," as Johnnie said, and that to have their
+dear Edith back was the most charming thing that could possibly have
+happened to them.</p>
+
+<p>"You must make much of your sister while she is here," said the doctor.
+"It will not be long before you have to say 'Goodbye' again."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa, can't she stay till Christmas?" cried a chorus of voices.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, children. We must do as Aunt Rachel says, and she wants Edith
+back in a fortnight at the outside."</p>
+
+<p>Both father and mother, though they would not repeat Miss Harley's
+words, could not help telling their daughter how pleased they were with
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"You have been a real help to your father, Edith," said Mrs. Harley.
+"Now you have done so well with Aunt Rachel, we may feel that you are
+provided for, and I am sure you will be glad to think that your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span>little
+brothers and sisters will have many things they must have gone without
+if you had had to be considered too."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Trying Time</div>
+
+<p>Edith felt rewarded then for all it had cost her to please her aunt and
+work quietly on at Silchester, and she went back to Ivy House with all
+her good resolutions strengthened, and her love for the dear ones at
+home stronger than ever.</p>
+
+<p>For a while things went on without much change. The wild, country girl
+was fast growing into a graceful accomplished young woman, when two
+events happened which caused her a great deal of thought and anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>First, Aunt Rachel, who had all her life enjoyed excellent health, fell
+rather seriously ill. She had a sharp attack of bronchitis, and instead
+of terminating in two or three weeks, as she confidently expected, the
+disease lingered about her, and at last settled into a chronic form, and
+made her quite an invalid.</p>
+
+<p>Both Edith and Stimson had a hard time while Miss Harley was at the
+worst. Unaccustomed to illness, she proved a very difficult patient, and
+kept niece and maid continually running up and downstairs, and
+ministering to her real and fancied wants.</p>
+
+<p>The warm, shut-up room where she now spent so many hours tried Edith
+greatly, and she longed inexpressibly sometimes for the free air of her
+dear Winchcomb fields, and the open doors and windows of the old house
+at home. Life at Silchester had always been trying to her; it became
+much more so when she had to devote herself constantly to an exacting
+invalid, who never seemed to think that young minds and eyes and hands
+needed rest and recreation&mdash;something over and above continued work and
+study.</p>
+
+<p>Even when she was almost too ill to listen, Aunt Rachel insisted on the
+hours of daily reading; she made Edith get through long tasks of
+household needlework, and, to use her own expression, "kept her niece to
+her duties" quite as rigidly in sickness as in health.</p>
+
+<p>Then, when it seemed to Edith that she really must <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>give up, and
+petition for at least a few weeks at home, came a letter from her
+father, containing some very surprising news. A distant relative had
+died, and quite unexpectedly had left Dr. Harley a considerable legacy.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad to tell you," wrote her father, "that I shall now be
+relieved from all the pecuniary anxieties that have pressed upon me so
+heavily for the last few years. Your mother and I would now be very glad
+to have you home again, unless you feel that you are better and happier
+where you are. We owe your Aunt Rachel very many thanks for all her
+kindness, but we think she will agree that, now the chief reason for
+your absence from home is removed, your right place is with your
+brothers and sisters."</p>
+
+<p>To go home! How delightful it would be! That was Edith's first thought;
+but others quickly followed. What would Aunt Rachel say? Would she
+really be sorry to lose her niece, or would she perhaps feel relieved of
+a troublesome charge, and glad to be left alone with her faithful
+Stimson, as she had been before?</p>
+
+<p>"I must speak to my aunt about it at once," thought Edith. "And no doubt
+papa will write to her too."</p>
+
+<p>But when she went into the garden, where her aunt was venturing to court
+the sunshine, she found her actually in tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Your father has written me a most unfeeling letter," said the poor
+lady, sitting on a seat, and before Edith could utter a word. "Because
+he is better off he wants to take you away. He seems not to think in the
+least of my lonely state, or that I may have grown attached to you, but
+suggests that you should return home as soon as we can arrange it,
+without the least regard for my feelings."</p>
+
+<p>"Papa would never think you cared so much, Aunt Rachel. Would you really
+rather I should stay, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Child, I could never go back to my old solitary <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span>life again. I did not
+mean to tell you, and perhaps I am not wise to do so now, but I will say
+it, Edith&mdash;I have grown to love you, my dear, and if you love me, you
+will not think of going away and leaving me to illness and solitude.
+Your father and mother have all their other children&mdash;I have nothing and
+no one but you. Promise that you will stay with me?"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"I have Grown to Love you!"</div>
+
+<p>"I must think about it, aunt," said Edith, much moved by her aunt's
+words. "Oh, do not think me ungrateful, but it will be very hard for me
+to decide; and perhaps papa will not let me decide for myself."</p>
+
+<p>But when Edith, in her own room, came to consider all her aunt's claim,
+it really seemed that she had no right, at least if her parents would
+consent to her remaining, to abandon one who had done so much for her.
+It was, indeed, as she had said, a very difficult choice; there was the
+old, happy, tempting life at Winchcomb, the pleasant home where she
+might now return, and live with the dear brothers and sisters without
+feeling herself a burden upon her father's strained resources; and there
+was the quiet monotonous daily round at Ivy House, the exacting invalid,
+the uncongenial work, the lack of all young companionship, that already
+seemed so hard to bear.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, Edith thought, she really ought to stay. Wonderful as it
+seemed, Aunt Rachel had grown to love her. How could she say to the
+lonely, stricken woman, "I will go, and leave you alone"?</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Edith?" said Miss Harley eagerly, when her niece came in again
+after a prolonged absence.</p>
+
+<p>"I will stay, Aunt Rachel, if my father will let me. I feel that I
+cannot&mdash;ought not&mdash;to leave you after all that you have done for me."</p>
+
+<p>So it was settled, after some demur on Dr. Harley's part, and the quiet
+humdrum days went on again, and Edith found out how, as the poet says&mdash;</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Tasks">
+<tr><td align='left'>"Tasks, in hours of insight willed,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">May be in hours of gloom fulfilled."</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>For Miss Harley, after that involuntary betrayal of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span>her feelings,
+relapsed into her own hard, irritable ways, and often made her niece's
+life a very uncomfortable one.</p>
+
+<p>Patiently and tenderly Edith nursed her aunt through the lingering
+illness that went on from months to years; very rarely she found time
+for a brief visit to the home where the little ones were fast growing
+taller and wiser, the home which Jessie had now exchanged for one of her
+own, and where careful Maude was still her mother's right hand.</p>
+
+<p>Often it seemed to the girl that her lot in life had been rather harshly
+determined, and she still found it a struggle to be patient and cheerful
+through all.</p>
+
+<p>And yet through this patient waiting there came to Edith the great joy
+and blessing of her life.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Finch, the elderly medical man who had attended Miss Harley
+throughout her illness, grew feeble and failing in health himself. He
+engaged a partner to help him in his heavy, extensive practice, and this
+young man, Edward Hallett by name, had not been many times to Ivy House
+before he became keenly alive to the fact that Miss Harley's niece was
+not only a pretty, but a good and very charming girl. It was strange how
+soon the young doctor's visits began to make a brightness in Edith's
+rather dreary days, how soon they both grew to look forward to the two
+or three minutes together which they might hope to spend every alternate
+morning.</p>
+
+<div><a name="as" id="as"></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 244px;">
+<img src="images/19.jpg" width="244" height="400" alt="&quot;AS HE KISSED THEIR FIRSTBORN UNDER THE MISTLETOE.&quot;" title="&quot;AS HE KISSED THEIR FIRSTBORN UNDER THE MISTLETOE.&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;AS HE KISSED THEIR <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'FIRSTBORN'">FIRSTBORN</ins> UNDER THE MISTLETOE.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Before very long, Edith, with the full approval of her parents and her
+aunt, became Edward Hallett's promised wife.</p>
+
+<p>They would have to wait a long while, for the young doctor was a poor
+man, and Dr. Harley could not, even now, afford to give his daughter a
+marriage portion.</p>
+
+<p>But, while they waited, Edith's long trial came to a sudden, unexpected
+end.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Miss Harley was found one morning, when Stimson, who had been
+sleeping more heavily than <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span>usual, arose from the bed she occupied in
+her mistress's room, lying very calmly and quietly, as though asleep,
+with her hands tightly clasped over a folded paper, which she must have
+taken, after her maid had left her for the night, from the box which
+always stood at her bedside. The sleep proved to be that last long
+slumber which knows no waking on earth, and the paper, when the dead
+fingers were gently unclasped, was found to contain the poor lady's last
+will and testament, dated a year previously, and duly signed and
+witnessed.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Miss Harley's Will</div>
+
+<p>In it she left the Ivy House and the whole of her, property to her "dear
+niece, Edith Harley, who," said the grateful testatrix, "has borne with
+me, a lonely and difficult old woman; has lived my narrow life for my
+sake, and, as I have reason to believe, at a great sacrifice of her own
+inclinations and without a thought of gain, and who richly deserves the
+reward herein bequeathed to her."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+
+<p>There could be no happier home found than that of Edith Hallett and her
+husband in the Ivy House at Silchester. Nor did they forget how that
+happiness came about.</p>
+
+<p>"We owe all to your patience," said Dr. Hallett to Edith, as he kissed
+their firstborn under the mistletoe at the second Christmastide of their
+wedded life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>The Tasmanian Sisters</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">E. B. Moore</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">A story, founded on fact, of true love, of changed lives, and
+of loving service.</div>
+
+<p>The evening shadows were settling down over Mount Wellington in
+Tasmania. The distant city was already bathed in the rosy after-glow.</p>
+
+<p>It was near one of the many lakes which abound amongst the mountains
+round Hobart that our short tale begins.</p>
+
+<p>It was in the middle of January&mdash;midsummer in Tasmania. It had been a
+hot day, but the heat was of a dry sort, and therefore bearable, and of
+course to those born and bred in that favoured land, it was in no way
+trying.</p>
+
+<p>On the verandah of a pretty wooden house of the ch&acirc;let description,
+stood a lady, shading her eyes from the setting sun, a tall, graceful
+woman; but as the sun's rays fell on her hair, it revealed silver
+threads, and the sweet, rather worn face, with a few lines on the
+forehead, was that of a woman of over forty; and yet she was a woman to
+whom life's romance had only just come.</p>
+
+<p>She was gazing round her with a lingering, loving glance; the gaze of
+one who looks on a loved scene for the last time. On the morrow Eva
+Chadleigh, for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>so she was called, was leaving her childhood's home,
+where she had lived all her life, and going to cross the water to the
+old&mdash;though to her new&mdash;country.</p>
+
+<p>Sprinkled all down the mountain sides were fair white villas, or wooden
+ch&acirc;let-like houses, with their terraces and gardens, and most of them
+surrounded by trees, of which the eucalyptus was the most common. The
+soft breezes played round her, and at her feet the little wavelets of
+the lake rippled in a soft cadence. Sounds of happy voices came wafted
+out on the evening air, intermingled with music and the tones of a rich
+tenor voice.</p>
+
+<p>That voice, or rather the owner of it, had made a havoc in that quiet
+home. Till its owner had appeared on the scene, Eva and her sister had
+lived quietly together, never dreaming of change. They had been born,
+and had lived all their lives in the peaceful ch&acirc;let, seeing no one,
+going nowhere.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Belated Traveller</div>
+
+<p>One night, about a year previously, a belated traveller knocked at the
+door, was given admittance, and, in return for the hospitality shown
+him, had the audacity to fall in love with Blanche Chadleigh, Eva's twin
+sister. Then, indeed, a change came into Eva's life. Hitherto the two
+sisters had sufficed to each other; now she had to take a secondary
+position.</p>
+
+<p>The intruder proved to be a wealthy settler, a Mr. Wells, a man of good
+family, though alone in the world. In due course the two were married,
+but Blanche was loath to leave her childhood's home. So it resulted in
+their remaining there while his own pretty villa, a little higher up the
+mountain, was being built.</p>
+
+<p>And now Eva too had found her fate. A church "synod" had been held;
+clergymen of all denominations and from all parts of the earth being
+present. The sisters had been asked to accommodate one or two clergymen;
+one of these was an old Scotch minister with snowy locks, and keen dark
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>How it came about Eva Chadleigh never knew; she often said he never
+formally proposed to her, but some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span>how, without a word on either side,
+it came to be understood that she should marry him.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you're just coming home with me, lassie," said the old man to the
+woman of forty-five, who appeared to him as a girl. "I'll make ye as
+happy as a queen; see here, child, two is company, and three is
+trumpery, as the saying goes. It isn't that your sister loves ye less,"
+seeing a pained look cross her face, "but she has her husband, don't ye
+see?" And Eva did see. She fell in love, was drawn irresistibly to her
+old minister, and it is his voice, with its pleasant Scotch accent, that
+is now rousing her from her reverie at the time our tale begins.</p>
+
+<p>"Come away&mdash;come away, child. The night dews are falling; they're all
+wearying for ye indoors; come now, no more looking around ye, or I'll
+never get ye away to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"But you promise to bring me back some day, Mr. Cameron, before very
+long."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay, we'll come back sure enough, don't fret yourself; but first ye
+must see the old country, and learn to know my friends."</p>
+
+<p>Amongst their neighbours at this time was a young man, apparently about
+thirty years old; he had travelled to Hobart in the same ship as Mr.
+Cameron, for whom he had conceived a warm feeling of friendship. Captain
+Wylie had lately come in for some property in Tasmania, and as he was on
+furlough and had nothing to keep him at home, he had come out to see his
+belongings, and since his arrival at Hobart had been a frequent visitor
+at the ch&acirc;let.</p>
+
+<p>Though a settled melancholy seemed to rest upon him, his history
+explained it, for Captain Wylie was married, and yet it was years since
+he had seen his wife. They had both met at a ball at Gibraltar many
+years ago. She had been governess in an officer's family on the "Rock"
+while his regiment had been stationed there. She was nineteen, very
+pretty, and alone in the world. They had married after five or <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span>six
+weeks' acquaintance, and parted by mutual consent after as many months.
+She had been self-willed and extravagant, he had nothing but his pay at
+that time, and she nearly ruined him.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Captain Wylie</div>
+
+<p>It ended in recriminations. He had a violent temper, and she was proud
+and sarcastic. They had parted in deep anger and resentment, she to
+return to her governessing, for she was too proud to accept anything
+from him, he to remove to another regiment and go to India.</p>
+
+<p>At first he had tried to forget all this short interlude of love and
+happiness, and flung himself into a gay, wild life: but it would not do.
+He had deeply loved her with the first strong, untried love of a young
+impetuous man, and her image was always coming before him. An intense
+hunger to see her again had swept away every feeling of resentment.
+Lately he had heard of her as governess to a family in Gibraltar, and a
+great longing had come over him just to see her once more, and to find
+out if she still cared for him.</p>
+
+<p>He and Mr. Cameron had travelled out together on a sailing ship, and
+during the voyage he had been led to confide in the kindly, simple old
+gentleman; but so sacred did the latter consider his confidence that
+even to his affianced bride he had never recalled it.</p>
+
+<p>All these thoughts crowded into the young officer's mind as he paced up
+and down in the stillness of the night, disinclined to turn in. He was
+startled from his reverie by a voice beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"So you have really decided to come with us to-morrow?" It was Mr.
+Cameron who spoke. "Ye know, lad, the steamer is not one of the fine new
+liners. I doubt she's rather antiquated, and as I told ye yesterday, she
+is a sort of ambulance ship, as one may say. She is bringing home a good
+many invalided officials and officers left at the hospital here by other
+ships. It seems a queer place to spend our honeymoon in, and I offered
+my bride to wait for the next steamer, which won't be for another
+fortnight or three weeks, and what <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span>do you think she said? 'Let us go;
+we may be of use to those poor things!' That's the sort she is."</p>
+
+<p>"She looks like that," said Captain Wylie, heartily. "I should like to
+go with you," continued the young man. "Since I have decided on the step
+I told you of, I cannot remain away a day longer. I saw the mate of the
+<i>Minerva</i> yesterday, and secured my cabin. He says they have more
+invalids than they know what to do with. I believe there are no nurses,
+only one stewardess and some cabin boys to wait on us all."</p>
+
+<p>The night grew chill, and after a little more talk the older gentleman
+went in, but the younger one continued pacing up and down near the lake,
+till the rosy dawn had begun to light up the summits.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>It was in the month of February, a beautiful bright morning; brilliant
+sunshine flooded the Rock of Gibraltar, and made the sea of a dazzling
+blueness, whilst overhead the sky was unclouded.</p>
+
+<p>A young lady who stood in a little terraced garden in front of a house
+perched on the side of the "Rock" was gazing out on the expanse of sea
+which lay before her, and seemed for the moment oblivious of two
+children who were playing near her, and just then loudly claiming her
+attention. She was their governess, and had the charge of them while
+their parents were in India.</p>
+
+<p>The house they lived in was the property of Mr. Somerset, who was a
+Gibraltarian by birth, and it was the children's home at present. Being
+delicate, the climate of Gibraltar was thought better for them than the
+mists of England. Major and Mrs. Somerset were shortly expected home for
+a time on furlough, and there was great excitement at this prospect.</p>
+
+<p>"Nory, Nory, you don't hear what I am saying! When will mamma come? You
+always say 'soon,' but what does 'soon' mean? Nory, you don't hear me,"
+and the governess's dress was pulled.</p>
+
+<p>This roused her from her reverie, and like one waking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span>from a dream she
+turned round. "What did you say, dear? Oh, yes, about your mother. Well,
+I am expecting a letter every mail. I should think she might arrive
+almost any time; they were to arrive in Malta last Monday, and now it is
+Wednesday. And that reminds me, children, run and get on your things, we
+have just time for a walk before your French mistress comes."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">At Gibraltar</div>
+
+<p>"Oh, do let us go to the market, Nory, it is so long since we went
+there. It is so stupid always going up the 'Rock,' and you are always
+looking out to sea, and don't hear us when we talk to you. I know you
+don't, for when I told you that lovely story about the Brownies, the
+other day, you just said 'yes' and 'no' in the wrong places, and I knew
+you were not attending," said sharp little Ethel, who was not easily put
+off.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Nory, see the monkeys," cried the little boy, "they are down near
+the sentry box, and one of them is carrying off a piece of bread."</p>
+
+<p>"They are very tame, aren't they, Nory?" asked Ethel. "The soldiers
+leave bread out for them on purpose, Maria says."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but you know I don't care for them, Ethel. They gave me such a
+fright last year they came down to pay a visit, and I discovered one in
+the bathroom. But run to Maria, and ask her to get you ready quickly,
+and I will take you to the market."</p>
+
+<p>In great glee the happy little children quickly donned their things, and
+were soon walking beside their governess towards the gay scene of
+bargaining and traffic.</p>
+
+<p>Here Moors are sitting cross-legged, with their piles of bright yellow
+and red slippers turned up at the toe, and calling out in loud harsh
+voices, "babouchas, babouchas," while the wealthier of them, dressed in
+their rich Oriental dress, are selling brass trays and ornaments.</p>
+
+<p>The scene is full of gaiety and life, and it is with difficulty that the
+young governess drags the children away. But now fresh delights begin:
+they are in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>narrow streets where all the Moorish shops with their
+tempting array of goods attract the childish eye&mdash;sweets of all sorts,
+cocoanut, egg sweets, almond sweets, pine-nut sweets, and the lovely
+pink and golden "Turkish delight," dear to every child's heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Nory!" in pleading tones, and "Nory" knows that piteous appeal
+well, and is weak-minded enough to buy some of the transparent
+amber-like substance, which is at all events very wholesome. The sun was
+so powerful that it was quite pleasant on their return to sit in the
+little terraced garden and take their lunch before lesson-time, and
+while their governess sipped her tea, the children drank their goat's
+milk, and ate bread and quince jelly.</p>
+
+<p>The warm February sun shone down on her, but she heeded it not; a
+passage in Mrs. Somerset's letter, which had just been handed to her,
+haunted her, and she read again and again: she could get no farther. "I
+believe it is very likely we shall take the next ship that touches here,
+it is the <i>Minerva</i> from Tasmania. They say it is a hospital ship, but I
+cannot wait for another, I hunger so for a sight of the children."</p>
+
+<p>The young governess was none other than Norah Wylie. She had never
+ceased following her husband's movements with the greatest, most painful
+interest. She knew he had lately gone to Tasmania; suppose he should
+return in that very ship? More unlikely things had happened. She was at
+times very weary of her continual monotonous round, though she had been
+fortunate enough to have got a very exceptional engagement, and had been
+with Mrs. Somerset's children almost ever since she and her husband had
+parted.</p>
+
+<p>As Norah sat and knitted, looking out to sea and wondering where her
+husband was, he, at the very moment, was pacing up and down the deck of
+the <i>Minerva</i>. They had so far had a prosperous journey, fair winds, and
+a calm sea. Some of the invalids were improving, and even able to come
+to table, for sea air is a wonderful life-giver. But there were others
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span>who would never see England. It was a day of intense heat in the Red
+Sea, and even at that early season of the year there was not a breath of
+air.</p>
+
+<p>Amongst those who had been carried up out of the stifling cabin was one
+whose appearance arrested Captain Wylie's attention, as he took his
+constitutional in the lightest of light flannels. He could not but be
+struck by the appearance of the young man. He had never seen him before,
+but he looked so fragile that the young officer's kind heart went out to
+him. He was lying in an uncomfortable position, his head all twisted and
+half off the limp cabin pillow.</p>
+
+<p>Something in the young face, so pathetic in its youth, with the ravages
+of disease visible in the hectic cheek, and harsh, rasping cough,
+touched the strong young officer. He stooped down and put his hand on
+the young lad's forehead; it was cold and clammy. Was he dying?</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cameron had come over and was standing beside him. She ran down and
+brought up the doctor, explaining the young man's state.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Doctor's Verdict</div>
+
+<p>"He will pass away in one of these fainting fits," said the tired man as
+he followed her. He was kind in his way, but overwhelmed with work.
+"This may revive him for the time being," he went on as they ascended
+the cabin stairs, "but he cannot live long. I do feel for that young
+fellow, he is so patient. You never hear a word of complaint."</p>
+
+<p>By this time they had reached the sick man. "Here, my good fellow, try
+and take this," said the doctor, as Eva Cameron gently raised the young
+head on her arm. The large dark eyes were gratefully raised to the
+doctor's face, and a slight tinge of colour came to the pale lips.</p>
+<div><a name="now" id="now"></a></div>
+<div class="figright" style="width: 247px;">
+<img src="images/20.jpg" width="247" height="400" alt="&quot;NOW I AM GOING TO FAN YOU,&quot; SHE SAID." title="&quot;NOW I AM GOING TO FAN YOU,&quot; SHE SAID." />
+<span class="caption">&quot;NOW I AM GOING TO FAN YOU,&quot; SHE SAID.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Now I am going to fan you," said Mrs. Cameron, as she sat beside him.
+Now and then she sprinkled lavender water on his head and hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he said; "how nice that is! Would you sing to me? I heard
+you singing the other day."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Eva softly sang a Tasmanian air which was wild and sweet.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you do me a favour?" asked the young man. "Please sing me one of
+the dear old psalms. I am Scotch, and at times yearn for them, you would
+hardly believe how much."</p>
+
+<p>She sang:</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="God is our refuge">
+<tr><td align='left'>"God is our refuge and our strength,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">In straits a present aid:</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Therefore, although the earth remove,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">We will not be afraid."</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>As she sang tears rolled down the wan cheek, but a look of perfect peace
+came over the pale face. She went on:</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="God is our refuge, 2">
+<tr><td align='left'>"A river is, whose streams do glad</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">The city of our God,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The holy place, wherein the Lord</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Most High hath His abode."</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>He was asleep, the wan young cheek leaning on his hand in a child-like
+attitude of repose. Eva sat and watched him, her heart full of pity. She
+did not move, but sat fanning him. Soon Mr. Cameron and Captain Wylie
+joined her; as they approached she put her finger on her lips to inspire
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>She had no idea what the words of the dear old psalm had been to the
+young Highlander&mdash;like water to a parched soul, bringing back memories
+of childhood, wooded glens, heather-clad hills, rippling burns, and
+above all the old grey kirk where the Scotch laddie used to sit beside
+his mother&mdash;that dear mother in whom his whole soul was wrapped up&mdash;and
+join lustily in the psalms.</p>
+
+<p>The dinner-bell rang unheeded&mdash;somehow not one of the three could leave
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"How lovely!" he said at last, opening and fixing his eyes on Eva. "I
+think God sent you to me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ay, laddie," said the old Scotchman, taking the wasted hand in his,
+"but it seems to me you know the One who 'sticketh closer than a
+brother'? I see the 'peace of God' in your face."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you are from my part of the country," said the lad joyfully, trying
+to raise himself, but sinking back exhausted. "I know it in your voice,
+it's just music to me. How good God has been to me!"</p>
+
+<p>They were all too much touched by his words to answer him, and Eva could
+only bend over him and smooth his brow.</p>
+
+<p>"Now mother will have some one to tell her about me," he added, turning
+to Mrs. Cameron, and grasping her hand. Then, as strength came back in
+some measure to the wasted frame, he went on in broken sentences to tell
+how he had been clerk in a big mercantile house in Hobart, how he had
+been invalided and lying in the hospital there for weeks. "But I have
+saved money," he added joyfully, "she need not feel herself a burden on
+my sister any more; my sister is married to a poor Scotch minister, and
+she lives with them, or was to, till I came home. Now that will never
+be. Oh, if I could just have seen her!"</p>
+
+<p>"But you will see her again, laddie," said the old man. "Remember our
+own dear poet Bonar's words:</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Where the child shall find">
+<tr><td align='left'>"Where the child shall find his mother,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the mother finds the child,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Where dear families shall gather</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">That were scattered o'er the wild;</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Brother, we shall meet and rest</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Mid the holy and the blest."</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said the dying lad. "I think I could sleep." His eyes were
+closing, when a harsh loud voice with a foreign accent was heard near.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"I say I will!"</div>
+
+<p>"I say I will, and who shall hinder me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, there is a dying man here!" It was the doctor who spoke. A
+sick-looking, but violent man, who had been reclining in a deck chair
+not far off, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span>was having a tussle with a doctor, and another man who
+seemed his valet.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed you should come down, sir," the man was saying, "there is quite
+a dew falling."</p>
+
+<p>"You want to make out that I am dying, I suppose, but I have plenty of
+strength, I can tell you, and will be ordered by no one!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, you will hasten your end, I tell you so plainly," said the
+doctor sternly.</p>
+
+<p>The man's face altered as he spoke, a kind of fear came over him, as he
+rose to follow the doctor without a word. As he passed near the young
+Highlander, he glanced at him and shuddered, "He's young to die, and
+have done with everything."</p>
+
+<p>"He would tell you he is just going to begin with everything," said Mr.
+Cameron, who had heard the words, and came forward just then. "Doctor, I
+suppose we need not move him," he added, glancing at the dying lad, "you
+see he is going fast."</p>
+
+<p>"No, nothing can harm him now, poor young fellow. I will go and speak to
+the captain&mdash;will you help Mr. Grossman to his cabin?"</p>
+
+<p>As they reached the state-room door, Mr. Cameron said, "Friend, when
+your time comes, may you too know the peace that is filling the heart of
+yon lad."</p>
+
+<p>"He is believing in a lie, I fear," said the other.</p>
+
+<p>"And yet, when you were in pain the other day, I heard you call loudly,
+'God help me!'"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, I suppose it is a kind of instinct&mdash;a habit one gets into,
+like any other exclamation."</p>
+
+<p>"I think not," said the old man. "I believe that in your inmost, soul is
+a conviction that there is a God. Don't you remember hearing that
+Voltaire, with almost his last breath, said, 'Et pourtant, il y a un
+Dieu!'"</p>
+
+<p>Returning on deck, Mr. Cameron took his watch beside the young
+Highlander. There was no return of consciousness, and very soon the
+happy spirit freed itself from its earthly tenement without a struggle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Next morning they consigned all that was mortal of him to the deep, in
+sure and certain hope that he shall rise again. God knows where to find
+His own, whether in the quiet leafy "God's acre," or in the depths of
+the sea.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The year was advancing. It was towards the end of February. At Gibraltar
+great excitement prevailed in the house perched on the side of the
+"Rock." Major Somerset and his wife were expected! Norah paused suddenly
+to look out over the blue expanse of sea, to-day ruffled with a slight
+breeze&mdash;and then exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"Children! children! come, a steamer with the British flag is coming in!
+Hurry and get on your things."</p>
+
+<p>There was no need for urging them to haste&mdash;the outdoor wrappings were
+on in no time, and they ran down to the landing-stage just as the ship
+had cast anchor. Numerous boats were already making their way out to
+her. They soon learnt that the ship was from Malta, though she was not
+the <i>Minerva</i> they had expected.</p>
+
+<p>How Norah's heart beat as she eagerly, breathlessly, watched the
+passengers descend the ladder and take their places in the different
+boats. A keen breeze had got up, and even in the harbour there were
+waves already.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"There is Mamma!"</div>
+
+<p>"There is mamma!" exclaimed little Ethel&mdash;"see her, Nory, in the white
+hat! Oh, my pretty mamma!" she exclaimed, dancing with glee as the boat
+came nearer and nearer.</p>
+
+<p>Then came exclamations, hugs and kisses, intermingled with the quick
+vivacious chattering of the boatmen bargaining over their fares. A
+perfect Babel of sound! Several passengers were landing&mdash;so a harvest
+was being reaped by these small craft.</p>
+
+<p>The children clung to their parents, and Norah <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span>followed behind, feeling
+a little lonely, and out of it all&mdash;would there ever come a time of joy
+for her&mdash;a time when she too would be welcoming a dear one?&mdash;or should
+she just have to go on living the life of an outsider in other people's
+lives&mdash;having no joys or sorrows of her own, she who might have been so
+blessed and so happy? How long those five years had seemed, a lifetime
+in themselves, since she had last heard her husband's voice! Well, he
+had not come, that was clear.</p>
+
+<p>That evening as Norah was preparing to go to bed, a knock came to her
+door, and Mrs. Somerset came in.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I might come in, Norah dear; I wanted to tell you how pleased
+my husband and I are with the improvement in the children, they look so
+well, and are so much more obedient. You have managed them very well,
+and we are very grateful," and Mrs. Somerset bent forward and kissed
+her. "Now, dear, we want you to accept a small present from us&mdash;it is
+very commonplace&mdash;but there is little variety where we are stationed."</p>
+
+<p>Norah undid the cedar box put into her hand and drew out a most lovely
+gold bracelet of Indian workmanship.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how very good of you, it is far too pretty!" she exclaimed,
+returning Mrs. Somerset's embrace. "But, indeed, I have only done my
+duty by the children: they are very good, and I love them dearly."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, dear, I hope you will long remain with them&mdash;and yet&mdash;I cannot
+wish it for your sake, for I wish a greater happiness for you. You
+remember when you first came to me, telling me your history, Norah, and
+begging me never to refer to it? Well, I have never done so, but
+to-night I must break my promise, as I think I ought to tell you that I
+have actually met Captain Wylie, though he did not know who I was."</p>
+
+<p>Norah's colour came and went; she said nothing, only fixed her eyes on
+Mrs. Somerset in speechless attention, while a tremor ran through her
+being.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, dear, listen to me; I believe you will see <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span>him in Gibraltar very
+soon. You know we were to have come here in the <i>Minerva</i>, which is
+actually in port in Malta now, but as she is detained there for some
+slight repairs, we did not wait for her. I went on board the <i>Minerva</i>
+with my husband, who had business with the captain&mdash;and there he was.
+The captain introduced us. When he heard I was a native of the 'Rock,'
+he became quite eager, and asked me many questions about the different
+families living there, and told me he intended staying a few days here
+on his way to England. He was standing looking so sad when we came on
+board, looking out to sea, and he brightened up so when he spoke of
+Gibraltar. But, dear child, don't cry, you should rejoice."</p>
+
+<p>For Norah had broken down and was weeping bitterly, uncontrollably. She
+could not speak, she only raised Mrs. Somerset's hand to her lips. The
+latter saw she was best alone, and was wise enough to leave her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh Edgar! Edgar!" was the cry of her heart. "Shall I ever really see
+you? Can you forgive me?"</p>
+
+<p>Just about the same time as Norah Wylie was weeping in her room, her
+heart torn asunder with hopes and fears, her husband was again pacing
+the deck of the <i>Minerva</i>. They had sailed from Malta the previous day,
+but owing to fogs, which had checked their progress, were hardly out of
+sight of land.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Wylie's thoughts as he passed up and down were evidently of a
+serious nature. For the first time in his life he had began to think
+seriously of religious things. Ever since the death of the young
+Highlander, Kenneth McGregor, he had had deep heart-searchings. Besides,
+another event had occurred that had cast a shadow over the whole ship,
+so sudden and so awful had it been.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"In Spite of the Doctor"</div>
+
+<p>Mr. Grossman had made a wonderful recovery. Contrary to all
+explanations, he was apparently almost well. It was his constant boast
+that he had recovered "in spite of the doctor."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>One evening dinner was going on, and Herr Grossman, who was still on
+diet, and did not take all the courses, got up and declared that he
+would go on deck. It was misty and raining a little. He sent for his
+great coat and umbrella, and as his valet helped him on with his coat,
+the doctor called out to him:</p>
+
+<p>"Don't stay up long in the damp."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll be down directly," he had answered. "I've no wish to lay
+myself up again."</p>
+
+<p>The company at table fell into talk, and it was some time before they
+dispersed.</p>
+
+<p>"It is time Mr. Grossman was down," said the doctor; "did you see him,
+steward?"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw him near an hour ago, sir, he stopped on his way up to light his
+cigar at the tinder lamp on the stairs."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor went up, but no Herr Grossman was to be seen. He and others
+hunted all over the ship. At last a sort of panic prevailed. Where was
+he? What had happened? The ship was stopped and boats lowered. Captain
+Wylie was one of those who volunteered to go with the search party.
+Clouds of mist hung over the sea, and although lanterns were held aloft,
+nothing was visible.</p>
+
+<p>The search was in vain. No one ever knew precisely what had happened,
+nor would know. Whether a sudden giddiness seized him, or whether he
+leaned too far forward, misled by the fog which makes things look so
+different; certain it is that he had disappeared&mdash;not even his umbrella
+was found.</p>
+
+<p>No one slept that night; a great awe had settled down over the whole
+ship.</p>
+
+<p>The next day a furious gale sprang up. Captain Wylie, who was an old
+sailor, crawled up on deck; he was used to roughing it, and the waves
+dashing over him as they swept the deck had an invigorating effect.</p>
+
+<p>"We ought to be in this afternoon," shouted the captain, as he passed,
+"but the propeller has come to grief; you see we are not moving, and
+hard enough <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span>it will be to fix the other in in such weather," and he
+looked anxiously around. The wind almost blew his words away.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Wylie then perceived that they were in the trough of the sea,
+helplessly tossed about, while the waves were mounting high, and any
+moment the engine fires might be extinguished. Should that happen,
+indeed they would be in a bad strait.</p>
+
+<p>With difficulty he made his way to where the men were vainly trying to
+fix the monster screw. Each time they thought they had it in place, the
+heavy sea shifted it, and the men were knocked down in their attempts.
+Captain Wylie willingly gave a hand, and after a long time, so it seemed
+to the weary men, the screw was in its place, and doing its work.</p>
+
+<p>The brave ship battled on. Already in the far distance the great "Rock"
+was visible, and the young soldier's heart turned passionately to her
+whom he loved.</p>
+
+<p>And now a fresh disaster had arisen; the steam steering-gear had come to
+grief, and the old, long-neglected wheel had to be brought into use. It
+had not been used for years, and though constantly cleaned and kept in
+order, the salt water had been washing over it now for hours, and it was
+very hard to turn. The question now was, should they remain in the open
+sea, or venture into the harbour?</p>
+
+<p>A discussion on the subject was taking place between the captain and the
+first mate. The steering-gear did not seem to do its work properly, and
+the captain anxiously kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, as they were
+drawn irresistibly nearer and nearer to the harbour. "It is the
+men-of-war I dread coming near," the captain was saying to his mates;
+"those deadly rams are a terror in this weather."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Critical Moment</div>
+
+<p>It was a critical moment. Darkness was coming down, the rain became more
+violent, the wind cold and cutting, with now and then fierce showers of
+hail.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>On, on they were being driven; nothing could keep them back. The captain
+shouted orders, the men did their best, but the wheel did not work
+properly. Captain Wylie as he stood near, holding on while the waves
+dashed over him, saw the lights twinkling in the town, and felt that the
+cup of happiness so near might now at any moment be dashed from his
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>The danger was clear to all, nearer and nearer they drew. "Out with the
+life-belts!" shouted the captain; "lower the boats!"</p>
+
+<p>There was no time to be lost, faster and faster they were being driven
+into the harbour.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Wylie rushed downstairs; and here confusion and terror reigned,
+for bad news travels fast, and a panic had seized the poor fellows who
+were still weak from recent illness. They were dragging themselves out
+of their berths.</p>
+
+<p>"Get her ready, here are two belts," he cried, and, throwing them to Mr.
+Cameron, he hurried to the assistance of the invalids. All were soon
+provided with belts. A wonderful calm succeeded to the confusion, and
+great self-control was exercised.</p>
+
+<p>"Courage!" cried the young soldier; "remember we are close to shore. If
+you can keep your heads above water you will speedily be rescued." The
+one frail woman was as calm as any.</p>
+
+<p>It came at last! A crash, a gurgling sound of rushing water, a ripping,
+rasping noise.</p>
+
+<p>"Up on deck," shouted Captain Wylie, as seizing the one helpless invalid
+in his arms, he hastened on deck. An awful scene met the eye. What the
+ship's captain feared had indeed come true!</p>
+
+<p>The boats were soon freighted and pushed off.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>While this terrible scene was taking place, anxious eyes were taking it
+all in from the shore.</p>
+
+<p>Early that day the <i>Minerva</i> had been signalled, and Norah with her
+heart in her mouth had watched almost all day from the veranda, scanning
+the sea with a pair <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span>of binoculars. Mrs. Somerset kept the children
+entirely, knowing well what her poor young governess was going through.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Weary Night</div>
+
+<p>The storm had raged fiercely all day, but as night came on it grew
+worse. Norah could remain no longer in the house, and had gone down to
+the quay. As she reached it she saw a large ship driving furiously
+forward to its doom. There she stood as though turned to stone, and was
+not aware of a voice speaking in her ear, and a hand drawing her away.</p>
+
+<p>"This is no place for you, Mrs. Wylie; my wife sent me for you. You can
+do no good here; you will learn what there is to learn quicker at
+home&mdash;one can't believe a word they say."</p>
+
+<p>Her agony was too great for words or tears. She had gone through so much
+all those years, and now happiness had seemed so near, she had believed
+it might even yet be in store for her since Mrs. Somerset had spoken to
+her on the subject, and now? . . . She let herself be led into the house,
+and when Mrs. Somerset ran to meet her and clasp her in her arms, it was
+as if she grasped a statue, so cold and lifeless was Norah.</p>
+
+<p>"She is stunned," the major said; "she is exhausted."</p>
+
+<p>Mechanically she let herself be covered up and put on the sofa, her feet
+chafed by kind hands&mdash;it gave a vague sense of comfort, though all the
+time she felt as if it were being done to some one else.</p>
+
+<p>And yet had Norah only known, grief would have been turned into
+thanksgiving. Her husband was not dead.</p>
+
+<p>The weary night came to an end at last, as such nights do. Several times
+Mrs. Somerset had crept in. They had been unable to gather any reliable
+news about the <i>Minerva's</i> passengers. The ship had gone down, but
+whether the people had been saved they had been unable as yet to
+ascertain.</p>
+
+<p>A glorious sunrise succeeded a night of storm and terror, and its
+crimson beams came in on Norah.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span> Hastily rising, and throwing on her hat
+and jacket she ran out into the morning freshness longing to feel the
+cool air.</p>
+
+<p>She only wanted to get away from herself.</p>
+
+<p>She climbed the steep ascent up the "Rock," past the governor's house,
+then stood and gazed at this wonderful scene.</p>
+
+<p>And she stood thus, wrapped up in sad thoughts and anticipations of
+evil, a great, great joy lay very near her.</p>
+
+<p>Edgar Wylie had thrown himself into the sea, and lost consciousness from
+the effects of a blow. Several boats had braved the furious sea, and
+come out to save the unfortunate people if possible.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it was that he was picked up, as well as a young fellow he had
+risked his life to save.</p>
+
+<p>When he came to himself, he found he had been brought to the nearest
+hotel, and a doctor was in attendance. There was, however, nothing
+really the matter with him. He had, it is true, been stunned by the
+sharp spar that had come in contact with his head, but no real injury
+had been done.</p>
+
+<p>A good night's rest had restored him to himself. He woke early the
+following morning, and rising went out to breathe the fresh pure air.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it came to pass that the husband and wife were passing each other
+in their morning walk, and they did not know it.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, as his tall figure passed her, a thrill of memory went through
+her, a something in the walk reminded her of her husband.</p>
+
+<p>Both had arrived at the supreme crisis of their lives, and yet they
+might never have met, but for a small incident, and a rather funny one.</p>
+
+<p>Norah had taken off her hat and had laid it carelessly beside her on the
+low wall on which she was leaning, when she became aware of some one
+taking possession of it, and looking round she saw the impudent face of
+a monkey disappearing with it up the steep side of the "Rock."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She had no energy to recover it, and was standing helplessly watching
+his movements when she saw the stranger who had passed her set off in
+pursuit of the truant.</p>
+
+<p>She soon lost sight of him, and had again sunk into a reverie when a
+voice said: "Here is your hat; I have rescued it. I think it is none the
+worse for this adventure."</p>
+
+<p>Oh, that voice! Norah's heart stood still, she was stunned and could not
+believe that she heard aright. Was she dreaming? "The rascal was caught
+by one of the sentries, evidently he is quite at home with them, and the
+soldier on duty coaxed it from him."</p>
+
+<p>Then Norah turned, there was no longer room for doubt, her eyes were
+riveted on the grey ones fixed on her.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"You are not Dead!"</div>
+
+<p>"Then you are not dead," was the thought that flashed through her mind.
+Her tongue was dry and parched; her heart, which had seemed to stop,
+bounded forward, as though it must burst its bonds.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Edgar!" she cried, losing all self-command; "oh, if it is you,
+forgive me, don't leave me. Don't let me wake and find it a dream!"</p>
+
+<p>A strange whizzing and whirling came over her, and then she felt herself
+held securely by a strong arm and a face was bent to hers. When she
+recovered herself somewhat, she found that she was seated on a bank,
+supported by her husband.</p>
+
+<p>It was his voice that said in the old fond tones: "Oh, Norah, my Norah,
+we are together again, never, never more to part. Forgive me, darling,
+for all I have made you suffer in the past."</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive you! Oh, Edgar! Will you forgive me?"</p>
+
+<p>The sun rose higher, and sounds of everyday life filled the air, drawing
+those two into the practical everyday world, out of the sunny paradise
+in which they had been basking while Norah sat leaning against that
+strong true heart that all these years had beat only for her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>The Queen of Connemara</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>BY</div>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Florence Moon</span></h3>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote">The story of a simple Irish girl, a sorrow, and a
+disillusion.</div>
+
+<p>The mountains of Connemara stretched bare and desolate beneath the
+November sky.</p>
+
+<p>Down the bleak mountain side, with his broad-leaved <i>caubeen</i> (peasant's
+hat) pulled well over his face, tramped a tall young countryman, clad in
+a stout frieze coat. His was an honest face, with broad, square brow,
+eyes of speedwell-blue that looked steadfast and fearless, and a mouth
+and chin expressive both of strength and sweetness.</p>
+
+<p>Dermot O'Malley was the only son of Patrick and Honor O'Malley, who
+dwelt in a little white-washed farmhouse near the foot of the mountain.
+His father tilled a few acres of land&mdash;poor stony ground, out of which
+he contrived to keep his family and to save a little besides.</p>
+
+<p>The little patch surrounding the farmhouse was, in its proper season,
+gay with oats and barley, while potatoes and cabbage, the staple food of
+the peasant, flourished in plenty. With such a desirable home, such a
+"likeable" face, and steady, upright character, it was no wonder that
+Dermot O'Malley was the object of much admiration among the people of
+the moun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span>tains, and several scheming parents had offered their daughters
+and their "fortunes" to him through the medium of his father, according
+to the custom of the country.</p>
+
+<p>But Dermot resisted all their overtures; his heart, and all the honest
+true love that filled it to overflowing, was given to Eily Joyce, the
+carrier's daughter; for her he would have laid down his strong young
+life.</p>
+
+<p>It was Eily's duty during the summer to take a daily supply of fresh
+eggs from her own hens to the proprietor of the hotel, and every morning
+she presented herself at the door, a bewitching little figure, her
+basket slung on her arm.</p>
+
+<p>Coyly she glanced from beneath her black silky lashes at the little
+group of men who, cigar in hand, loitered about the hotel steps,
+chatting on the chances of sport or the prospects of the weather.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The Artist's Model</div>
+
+<p>Beauty like hers could not fail to attract the attention of the artists
+present, and as day after day went by, flattering remarks and
+undisguised admiration did not fail to strike home; attentions from the
+"gentry" were grateful to one who was a born coquette, and Eily's visits
+were gradually prolonged.</p>
+
+<p>Then one of the artists sought to paint her; he was a young fellow,
+rising in his profession, and in quest of a subject for his next Academy
+picture. In Eily he found what he sought, and there, among her own wild
+mountains, he painted her.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day, week after week, Eily stole from her father's little
+cabin to meet the stranger, a downward glance in her dark eyes, a blush
+on her cheek. The handsome face of the artist, his languid manner, his
+admiration of her beauty, his talk about the great world that lay beyond
+those mountains, fascinated and bewildered poor simple Eily, who told
+him in her trusting innocence all the thoughts of her young heart.</p>
+
+<p>So the summer passed by, till at last the picture was completed, and
+Eily heard, with white face and tearful eye, that the painter was going
+away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Time had passed, and the little world among the mountains went on its
+quiet way, but the summer had left its impress on Eily's heart. No more
+was her laugh the merriest, or her foot the fleetest; she joined neither
+wake nor dance, but her eye wore a far-away, thoughtful look, and her
+manner was cold and somewhat scornful; she looked with contempt on her
+old comrades, and began to pine for a peep at the great world, where she
+would see <i>him</i>, and he would welcome her, his beautiful "Queen of
+Connemara," as he had called her.</p>
+
+<p>As though her unspoken words were heard, an opportunity to gratify her
+wishes soon occurred. Her mother's sister, who had married young and
+gone with her husband to England, returned to visit her old home; she
+was a middle-aged, hard-faced woman, with a shrewd eye and cruel heart;
+she had worked hard, and made a little money by keeping a lodging-house
+in the east of London.</p>
+
+<p>London! Eily's heart leapt as she heard the word. Was not that the great
+city <i>he</i> had spoken of, where she would be worshipped for her lovely
+face, and where great lords and ladies would bow down before her beauty?</p>
+
+<p>Shyly, but with determination, she expressed her desire to go there with
+her aunt. Well-pleased, Mrs. Murphy consented to take her, inwardly
+gloating over her good luck, for she saw that Eily was neat and handy,
+and had the "makings" of a good servant. It would enable her to save the
+wages of her present drudge, and a girl who had no friends near to
+"mither" her could be made to perform wonders in the way of work.</p>
+
+<p>So a day was fixed for their departure, and Eily's eyes regained their
+old sparkle, her spirits their wonted elasticity.</p>
+
+<p>Without a regret or fear she was leaving the little cabin in which she
+was born, her whole heart full of rapture that she was going to see
+<i>him</i>, and of the joy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span>he would experience at the sight of her. Small
+wonder, then, was it that Dermot sighed as he walked homeward that bleak
+November day, for his heart was well-nigh broken at the thought of
+parting from the girl he loved.</p>
+
+<p>As he rounded the shoulder of the mountain the clouds parted, and a
+shaft of bright sunlight lit up his path. Dermot looked eagerly before
+him. There was Eily standing outside the cabin door, bare-footed,
+bare-headed. Cocks and hens strutted in and out of the thatched cottage,
+a pig was sniffing at a heap of cabbage-leaves that lay on the ground,
+and a black, three-legged pot, the chief culinary utensil in a peasant's
+cot, stood just outside the doorway. Eily was busy knitting, and
+pretended not to see the tall form of her lover until he drew near, then
+she looked up suddenly and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it knitting y'are, Eily? Shure it's the lucky fellow he'll be
+that'll wear the socks those fairy hands have made!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it flattherin' me y'are, Dermot? because if so ye may go away!
+Shure, 'tis all the blarney the bhoys does be givin' me is dhrivin' me
+away from me home. Maybe ye'll get sinse whin I lave ye all, as I will
+to-morrow!"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Will ye Stay?"</div>
+
+<p>"Oh, Eily, jewil, don't say that! don't!" he pleaded, his blue eyes
+looking earnestly into hers. "Whin ye go, you will take all the sunshine
+out of me poor heart; it's to Ameriky I will go, for nothin' will be the
+same to me without you, mavourneen! Eily, Eily, will ye stay?"</p>
+
+<p>But Eily was firm.</p>
+
+<p>"Faith, thin, I will not, Dermot! I'm weary of my life here; I want to
+see London and the world. Shure, I'll come back some day with gold of me
+own, a rale lady, for all the world like the gintry at the castle
+below."</p>
+
+<p>He took her hands for a moment and wrung them in his, then, with a look
+of dumb agony in his blue eyes, turned his back upon her and continued
+his way down the mountain side.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>London! was this indeed London, the goal of all her hopes, the place
+where <i>he</i> lived, and moved, and had his being?</p>
+<div><a name="eily" id="eily"></a></div>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 244px;">
+<img src="images/21.jpg" width="244" height="400" alt="EILY STOOD A FORLORN DESOLATE FIGURE ON EUSTON PLATFORM." title="EILY STOOD A FORLORN DESOLATE FIGURE ON EUSTON PLATFORM." />
+<span class="caption">EILY STOOD A FORLORN DESOLATE FIGURE ON EUSTON PLATFORM.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Eily stood, a forlorn, desolate figure, among the crowds that jostled
+each other carelessly on Euston platform. The pretty face that peeped
+from the folds of a thick woollen shawl looked tired after the long
+journey, and her feet&mdash;oh, how they ached! for they were unaccustomed to
+the pressure of the heavy, clumsy boots in which they were now encased.</p>
+
+<p>What a crowd of people, and how "quare" the talk sounded! How grandly
+they were all dressed! not one with a red petticoat like the new one she
+had been so proud of only yesterday morning; she glanced at it now with
+contempt, deciding to discard it before she had been another day in
+London.</p>
+
+<p>There was a girl sitting on her box not far from Eily; she was evidently
+waiting for some one to fetch her. Eily eyed her garments with envy;
+they were of dazzling crimson, plentifully besprinkled with jet; she
+wore a large hat trimmed with roses; a "diamond" brooch fastened her
+neck-ribbon, and a "golden" chain fell from neck to waist; but what Eily
+liked best of all was the thick, black fringe that covered her forehead;
+such "style" the simple peasant had never before beheld; if only her
+aunt would be generous she would buy just such a dress as that, but
+whether or not, the fringe could be had for nothing, and <i>he</i> should see
+that she could be as genteel as any one else, he need never be ashamed
+of her.</p>
+
+<p>Her plans and projects were alike cut short by her aunt, who, hot and
+excited after a wordy war with porters and cabmen, ran breathlessly
+along the platform.</p>
+
+<p>"Make haste, Eily! how long are you goin' to stand there staring like a
+sick owl? Hurry up, child; the cabman will be for charging me overtime
+if you're so slow, and it's bad enough to have to pay ordinary fare all
+that way."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Eily took up the little tin box that held all her worldly possessions,
+and followed her aunt to the cab like one in some horrible dream. The
+fog, the crowds, the noises, the strangeness of everything! With a chill
+at her warm young heart she took her seat in the cab, and was driven
+swiftly through the streets. The fog was lifting slightly; she could see
+the houses and buildings stretching as far as eyes could follow them;
+houses everywhere, people everywhere; men, women, and children hurrying
+along the pavements; cabs and carts rolling unceasingly.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Is there a Fair To-day?"</div>
+
+<p>"Is there a fair to-day?" she asked her aunt, who was sitting opposite
+with closed eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Fair? Simpleton! it's this way every day, only worse, because this is
+early morning, and there's only a few about yet;" and Mrs. Murphy's eyes
+closed again.</p>
+
+<p>The cab rattled along, the streets became narrow and unsavoury, but Eily
+knew no difference; it was all grand to her unsophisticated eyes; the
+little shops, with lights that flared dismally in their untidy windows,
+caused her much excitement and speculation.</p>
+
+<p>At last the cab drew up, and her aunt awoke from her nap in a bad
+temper.</p>
+
+<p>"Get my things together, quick, and don't dawdle; we're at home now, and
+you will have to set about your work!"</p>
+
+<p>Eily gathered together bags and boxes and set them down upon the
+pavement, while her aunt haggled with the driver in a spirited manner;
+the man went off, grumbling at the meanness of a "couple o' Hirishers,"
+but Eily, not understanding the English manner of using the aspirate,
+was blissfully unconscious of his meaning.</p>
+
+<p>The house door opened, and an elderly man, looking cowed and humble,
+shuffled out to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>"We've come at last!" cried out her aunt in a loud voice; "it's the last
+time I'll take the trouble to visit my folks! What the better am I for
+all the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span>money I've spent on the trip? Better, indeed! A good deal worse
+<i>I</i> should say! Take in the box, William! what are you stopping for?"
+she demanded angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing, nothing, my dear! I'll take the box in at once,
+certainly!" The old man hurried to do his wife's bidding, and entered
+the squalid house. Eily followed with her parcels, and stood in doubt as
+to what her next proceedings should be, while her aunt bustled away
+somewhere, on food intent.</p>
+
+<p>The old man, having obediently deposited the box in the region of
+upstairs, shuffled down again, and approached Eily gently. "Are you her
+niece, my poor girl?" he whispered, with a backward glance in the
+direction of his departed spouse.</p>
+
+<p>"I am, sorr," answered Eily; "I am come to help me aunt wid the claning
+and the lodgers."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor child! poor child! I was afraid so," he murmured, shaking his head
+dolefully; "but, look here, don't notice her tempers and her tantrums,
+her carries on fearful sometimes, but least said soonest mended, and if
+you want to please her keep a still tongue in your head; I've learnt to
+do it, and it pays best. If ever you want a friend your uncle William
+will stand by you; now, not a word, not a word!" and he shuffled
+noiselessly away as loud footsteps drew near, and Mrs. Murphy appeared
+on the scene.</p>
+
+<p>"Now then, girl, come downstairs and set to work; the fire's black out,
+and not a drop o' water to be had! It's like him; he's got a brain like
+a sieve"&mdash;pointing to her husband, "and here am I nigh dying of thirst.
+Drat that bell!" she exclaimed, as a loud peal from upstairs sounded in
+the passage.</p>
+
+<p>William lit the fire, boiled the kettle, and frizzled the bacon, his
+wife sitting by criticising the work of his hands, and warming her
+elastic-sided boots at the fire. She ate her breakfast in silence, and
+then remembered Eily, who was sitting on the stairs, hungry, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span>forlorn,
+and desolate, the tears running down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, girl, get your tea!" she called, as she replenished the pot from
+the kettle; "here's bread for you, better than that rubbishy stuff your
+mother makes; such bread as that I never see, it's that heavy it lies on
+your chest like a mill-stone."</p>
+
+<p>Eily took the slice of bread offered her and gnawed it hungrily; she had
+tasted nothing since the previous evening, as her aunt objected to waste
+money on "them swindling refreshment rooms," and the stock of bread and
+cakes her mother had given her was soon exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, girl, if you start crying you'll find you make a great mistake. I
+brought you here to work, and work you must! Fie, for shame! an ignorant
+country girl like you should be thankful for such a start in life as you
+are getting."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not ignorant," Eily answered with spirit, "and it's yourself that
+knows it!"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Do what you're Told!"</div>
+
+<p>"Then get up and wash that there delf&mdash;don't give me any imperence, or
+you'll find yourself in the street; there's others better than you I've
+turned away, and the work'us has been their end&mdash;so mind your business,
+and do what you're told!" With this parting injunction Mrs. Murphy left
+the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>The winter passed&mdash;cold, foggy, murky, miserable winter. Eily was
+transformed. No longer bright, sparkling, and gay, but pale, listless,
+and weary&mdash;the veriest drudge that ever lived under an iron rule. A
+thick black fringe adorned her forehead, her ears were bedecked with
+gaudy rings, and her waist squeezed into half its ordinary size; her
+clothes, bought cheaply at a second-hand shop, were tawdry and
+ill-fitting, yet they were her only pleasure; she watched herself
+gradually developing into a "fine lady" with a satisfaction and
+excitement that alone kept her from giving way altogether.</p>
+
+<p>Her heart was still aching for a sight of her lover, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span>and many a time
+when her aunt was out she neglected tasks that she might sit at the
+parlour window and watch with feverish expectancy for the owner of the
+fair moustache and languid manner that had so completely taken her
+fancy; but he never came, and she rose from her vigils with a sore
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>Two friends she had; two who never spoke roughly, nor upbraided her.
+"Uncle William," himself cowed and subdued, stood first. Sometimes, when
+the lady of the house became unbearable, and poor Eily's head ached with
+all the tears she shed, he would take her in the cool of the evening
+away to a large green park, where the wind blew fresh, the dew sparkled
+on the grass, and the noisy traffic of the streets was still; there she
+would rest her weary body, while the old man soothed her gently and
+stroked her poor hands, all chapped and red with hard work.</p>
+
+<p>Eily's other friend was a lady who occupied a single top room in her
+aunt's tall house. She was a gentle, white-haired woman, with faded blue
+eyes and a sweet smile. She had won Eily's heart from the first by the
+soft, kindly tones of her voice, and the consideration she showed for
+the severely-tried feet of the little Irish maid. Mrs. Grey taught
+drawing and painting; her pupils were few, her terms low; it was a
+difficult matter to make both ends meet, but she managed it by careful
+contriving, and sometimes had enough to treat her waiting-maid to a
+morsel of something savoury cooked on her own little stove.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>It was May. Eily was standing at the window while Mrs. Murphy went forth
+on a bargain-hunting expedition.</p>
+
+<p>"Eily, come upstairs, child; I have something to show you." Mrs. Grey
+was in the room, looking flushed and excited; she was flourishing a book
+in her hand. Eily's heart beat rapidly as she ascended the steep
+staircase in the wake of her friend. Was it possible <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span>she could have
+news of <i>him?</i> Then she shook her head, for Mrs. Grey was not in her
+secret.</p>
+
+<p>They entered the neat little room at the top of the stairs. Mrs. Grey,
+walking to the table, never pausing to unfasten her bonnet-strings or to
+<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'unbotton'">unbutton</ins> her gloves, opened the book and laid it on the table,
+exclaiming in triumph, "There you are to the life, Eily! See! it is the
+picture of the year, and is called 'The Queen of Connemara.'"</p>
+
+<p>A girl with eyes half-defiant, half-coquettish, lips demure and smiling,
+hair tied loosely in a knot at the back of her proudly-set head, was
+leaning against the white-washed wall of a thatched cabin&mdash;ah! it was
+Dermot's own! Eily noted the geraniums in the little blue box that he
+had tended himself.</p>
+
+<p>Eily's heart leapt, and then was still; there were her two bare feet
+peeping from beneath her thick red petticoat, just as they used in the
+olden times, and there was the blue-checked apron she had long ago
+discarded. With face now white, now red, she gazed at the picture, then
+spelt out its title, "The Queen of Connemara," painted by Leslie
+Hamilton.</p>
+
+<p>"Arrah, 'tis Misther Hamilton himself! 'twas he painted me!" she cried
+breathlessly, and sank into a chair completely overcome.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Eily, you are a lucky girl! Every one in London is talking about
+'The Queen of Connemara,' and this Hamilton has made his name and
+fortune by your picture. Well, well! no wonder you are surprised! Here
+is the artist's portrait; do you remember him?" She turned over a few
+leaves of the book and pushed it towards Eily.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"At Last!"</div>
+
+<p>Did Eily remember him? Ay, indeed! There were the clear blue eyes, the
+straight nose, the drooping moustache. Eily snatched up the book
+eagerly, "Misther Hamilton! at last! at last!" With a great sob her head
+fell forward on the table, and Mrs. Grey guessed the young girl's
+secret.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Leslie Hamilton, R.A., was entertaining. In the middle of a smart crowd
+of society people he stood, the lion of the season. "The Queen of
+Connemara" had made him name and fame. He was smiling on all, as well he
+might, for his name was in every one's mouth.</p>
+
+<p>Standing about the studio, chattering gaily, or lounging idly, the
+guests of Leslie Hamilton were admiring everything while they sipped tea
+out of delicate S&egrave;vres cups. The artist himself was busy, yet his
+attention was chiefly directed to a beautiful young girl who sat on a
+velvet lounge, a tiny lap-dog on her knee. She was tall and dignified in
+mien, with soft grey eyes and bronze-gold hair, among which the sunlight
+was playing as it stole through a window behind her. She was the beauty
+of the season, and her father's sole heiress. Cold and distant with
+others, she was affable and even kind to Leslie Hamilton, and among her
+friends it was whispered such treatment could only end in one way; and
+though better things had been spoken of for Bee Vandaleur, the wife of
+an R.A. was by no means a position to be despised, and if Bee's fancy
+lay that way, why&mdash;&mdash;! a shrug of its white shoulders, an elevation of
+its pencilled eyebrows, and Society went on its way.</p>
+
+<p>Leslie Hamilton had taken up his position near the door that he might
+easily acknowledge each new arrival. He was leaning over the fair Bee
+Vandaleur, watching the animation in her beautiful face, the grace with
+which she wore her large picture-hat, and the regal manner in which she
+sat. He glanced at the gay throng that filled his rooms, growing gayer
+still as the tinkle of tiny silver spoons increased in number and
+volume; there was not one to compare with Bee, <i>his</i> Bee as he dared, in
+his own mind, to call her already. Gentle, dignified, graceful, always
+sweet and gracious to him, and with an ample fortune of her own, it was
+no wonder the artist felt that she was worth the winning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How I should enjoy a peep at your model!" she was saying as she looked
+at a rough sketch he was showing her. "Was she as beautiful as you have
+made her?"</p>
+
+<p>"She was tolerably&mdash;&mdash;" Hamilton hesitated. "Well, of course an artist's
+business is to make the most of good points, and omit the bad. She was a
+little rough and troublesome sometimes, but, on the whole, not a bad
+sitter."</p>
+
+<p>"And her name?" asked Miss Vandaleur.</p>
+
+<p>"Her name? oh, Mary, or Biddy, or Eily Joyce; really I cannot be sure;
+every one in that part of the world is either Eily or Biddy, and Joyce
+is the surname of half the population. She was a vain girl, I assure
+you; no beauty in her first season thought more of herself than did
+she."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not wonder at that," said Bee gently; "there are few women who
+possess beauty to such a marvellous degree. If only your Biddy could
+come to London she would be worshipped by all who were not utterly
+envious."</p>
+
+<p>Just what he had assured Eily himself nine months back, but it is
+inconvenient to remember everything one has said so long ago; we live at
+a pace now, and nine months is quite an epoch in our existence&mdash;so many
+things change in nine months!</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Startling Visitor</div>
+
+<p>Hamilton smiled; it was rare to hear one beauty acknowledge another. He
+bent his head to make some remark that her ear alone might catch, but as
+he did so a slight stir at the door attracted his attention, and he
+looked up.</p>
+
+<p>The sight that met his gaze froze the smile on his lips; with a start
+which he could scarcely conceal the blood left his cheeks; him face
+became stern and white as death.</p>
+
+<p>There stood Eily herself, behind her the page who did duty at the door.
+The boy was pulling angrily at her sleeve, and an altercation was going
+on.</p>
+
+<p>"Shure 'tis himself will be glad to see me, ye <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span>spalpeen! Shame on yez
+to insult a poor girl. Musha, is it Misther Hamilton within and ashamed
+to spake to his Eily!"</p>
+
+<p>One more moment, then within that room in which art, and beauty, and
+refinement were gathered in one harmonious whole, a figure stole shyly.</p>
+
+<p>It was a young girl, gaudily attired in a blue dress; a hat, encircled
+by a long pink feather, crowned a face that was beautiful, were it not
+that it was marred by its many adornments. Gilt earrings glistened in
+the ears, a dark curly fringe covered forehead and eyebrows, and the
+chin was embedded in a tawdry feather boa of a muddy hue. An excited
+flush lay on her cheeks as she looked at the gay crowd within, searching
+for the loved face.</p>
+
+<p>At last a joyful recognition shone in her dark eyes, and forgetful of
+everything and everybody, she rushed across the polished floor to the
+horror-stricken artist.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Misther Hamilton, acushla! shure it's your own Eily has found yez
+at last!" She caught the artist's hand in her own impulsively&mdash;"Arrah,
+but it's the wide world I have searched, and I've found yez at last!"</p>
+
+<p>Silence had fallen on that part of the room where this little
+<i>contretemps</i> was taking place. Hamilton saw the looks of wonderment on
+his guests' faces change into an amused smile as the little comedy
+progressed.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was looking earnestly at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Shure, you do not forget your own Eily&mdash;the girl you made into the
+picthur, your colleen oge! But maybe it's the jiwils and the clothes
+that has changed me; it's mighty grand they make me, to be sure, but it
+was so you should not be ashamed of me I put them on. Arrah, shpake to
+me, and let me hear the sound of your voice!"</p>
+
+<p>She looked pleadingly into his eyes, but he was speechless. At last by a
+mighty effort he turned with a sickly smile to some of his guests&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span>"Here is the original of 'The Queen of Connemara'&mdash;scarcely
+recognisable in her new clothes, is she? Why, Eily, my child," with a
+paternal air, "whatever brought you here to London?"</p>
+
+<p>It was an unwise question; the answer was plain enough.</p>
+
+<p>"Faith, thin, 'twas yourself, Misther Hamilton! You promised to come
+back to me, and said you would make me the finest lady in the land; and
+I waited, but faix, I got sick and sore, so I came to find yez, and it's
+well-nigh at death's door I was till I heard of yez and found where ye
+live&mdash;and musha, but it's a grand place, God bless it!"</p>
+
+<p>Eily was looking around her now at the beautiful room, the lovely women,
+their smart attire, and shyness seized her; she hung her head in dismay;
+every one in the room was pressing forward to see the girl whom Hamilton
+had immortalised, and comments on her appearance passed from lip to lip.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand there, Eily," said Hamilton kindly, placing her on a low stool
+that stood near. The game should be played out now.</p>
+
+<p>The crowd pressed around eagerly, delighted and curious.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">A Pleasant Surprise!</div>
+
+<p>"What a pleasant surprise you have prepared for us, dear Mr. Hamilton!
+quite unprepared, I assure you! but ah, how you artists idealise to be
+sure! who but genius itself could find anything picturesque under so
+much glitter and vulgarity?" and so on and so on, until Eily's blushing
+face grew paler and paler.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Eily, you may go; the ladies and gentlemen have looked at you long
+enough. Here is something to buy a new gown and bonnet," and Leslie
+Hamilton, with a patronising smile, put some gold into her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"How kind and considerate!" murmured the highborn dames as they turned
+away.</p>
+
+<p>He escorted the girl to the door, and drew aside the <i>porti&egrave;re</i>
+courteously, but his face became livid with rage as he spoke in a low,
+stern voice, "Go, girl! never <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span>dare to come here again&mdash;if you do, I
+swear I will call the police!"</p>
+
+<p>He closed the door after her retreating figure, and turned with a smile
+to the company; his eyes sought those of beautiful Bee Vandaleur, but
+she had gone.</p>
+
+<p>Outside in the busy street Eily stood, leaning for support against a
+stone pillar. She heard nothing, saw nothing. A mist swam before her
+eyes; she was dumb with shame and disappointment; her face, a moment
+before so eager, was pale as death, and deep sobs that came from her
+very soul shook her poor body. She clenched the gold in her hands, and
+then with a bitter, passionate cry threw it into the street, and watched
+while two street-urchins picked it up and ran off with their
+treasure-trove.</p>
+
+<p>"May I help you, my poor girl? Are you in trouble?" Bee Vandaleur spoke
+gently and softly; she had heard all that passed between the artist and
+his model.</p>
+
+<p>Eily looked up. "Oh, me lady, God bless ye! but I'm past the helping
+now! I loved him, I would have died to save him from a minute's sorrow,
+and he threatened the police on me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Come with me; I will take care of you, and you shall tell me all." Miss
+Vandaleur hailed a passing hansom and jumped in, followed by Eily,
+white, shivering, and limp. "Now tell me all," she said, as they were
+driven at a rapid pace through the streets. Eily, won by her gentleness,
+told her the pitiful story of her love; told her of her simple mountain
+home, of the handsome stranger who had promised to return and carry her
+to a land where she would be fairest of the fair; told it with dry eyes
+and white set lips, while her heart was breaking and her temples beat,
+beat, beat, like sledge-hammers beneath the weight of the fringe with
+which she had thought to please him.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Vandaleur heard all, and made no sign, save that her lips tightened
+now and then, and an expression of pain stole into her soft grey eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was a pathetic story, and the rich girl was touched as she listened
+to the poor simple one at her side. "Where do you live, Eily?" she
+asked, as the girl stopped speaking, and lay back with closed eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"At me aunt's, your honour, but I won't go back! shure, I cannot! Oh, me
+lady, let me go; it's not for the likes of me to be keeping your
+ladyship away from her grand friends. God's blessing upon ye for your
+kindness to a poor girl!"</p>
+
+<p>Bee was silent, wondering what she could do with the unhappy creature
+beside her; presently a bright thought struck her.</p>
+
+<p>"I am looking out for a girl who will attend on me, Eily; do you think
+you would like the place if you are taught?"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"An Angel from Heaven!"</div>
+
+<p>"Arrah, me lady, me lady! it's an angel from heaven ye are!" cried Eily
+gratefully, but her head sank back again, till the gaudy pink feather in
+her hat was spoilt for ever.</p>
+
+<p>That night Eily was taken to hospital. Brain fever set in, and the
+doctors and nurses feared the worst.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Bee Vandaleur sat in her boudoir thinking. Her pretty brow was puckered
+as she gazed at the photograph of a young man, tall, fair, and handsome.
+For some time she cogitated, then, setting her lips together, she tore
+the card straight across, dropped it into the waste-paper basket beside
+her, and shrugged her pretty shoulders, exclaiming in a tone more
+forcible than polite, "Brute!"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Leslie Hamilton stood outside the door of Mr. Vandaleur's handsome town
+residence. The footman, gorgeously attired, opened the heavy door.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at 'ome, sir," he answered pompously in answer to inquiries.</p>
+
+<p>"My good man, you have made some mistake; I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span>am Leslie Hamilton, and I
+wish to see Miss Vandaleur."</p>
+
+<p>"Very sorry, sir, no mistake, sir; Miss Vandaleur is not at 'ome!" and
+the door closed in the face of the astonished artist.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>It was June in Connemara. Where else is the month of roses half as
+lovely? where does the sky show bluer, or the grass greener? and where
+is the air so clear and cool and fragrant, or the lakes half as still
+and azure as in that blessed country?</p>
+
+<p>The sun rode high in the sky, monarch of all, and men smiled as they
+went about their daily toil, and thanked the good God who was sending
+them favourable weather. Here and there, dotted about the hillsides, the
+tiny white-washed cabins were full of life; the cocks crowed proudly as
+they strutted in and out among their plump, sleek wives; the useful ass
+brayed loudly, roaming about field and lane in enjoyment of a leisure
+hour; the men were in the fields, cutting the sweet-scented grass, and
+the women busied themselves about the midday meal, while babies, with
+dirty faces and naked feet, tumbled about among the wandering pigs and
+quacking ducks in blissful content.</p>
+
+<p>Along the white road that bordered the lake a cart was jolting slowly
+along; it was painted in a startling shade of blue, with shafts of
+brightest red that projected both back and front; upon it was arranged,
+with neatness and precision, a load of turf just cut from the bog; on
+one side, painted black, that all who run might read, was the name of
+"Patrick O'Malley" in crude lettering, and Patrick himself, in working
+dress of coarse cream homespun, walked beside his slow-going jennet,
+idly smoking his tin-topped pipe. From time to time he drew from his
+trouser pocket a letter, which he fingered with respect, gazing at it
+with profoundest wonder.</p>
+
+<p>"Shure, 'tis the grandest and the natest letther ever seen, and the
+ilegant picthur on the back! Musha, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span>musha, 'tis not the likes o' that
+comes to Biddy Joyce ivery day, no, nor to no one else neither in these
+parts! It minds me of a letther her ladyship at the castle aksed me to
+take to the posht, and her in a hurry; begob, but the paper's thick and
+good entoirely!" and he rubbed it softly between his finger and thumb.
+"Shure 'tis from London itself, and maybe the one as wrote it is some
+friend o' Eily's. Ah, but it's she is the foolish one that she did not
+take the boy! it's long ere she'll find another such a match again, and
+him with cattle and sheep and pigs o' his own, a house that many a girl
+would be wild for to get, and maybe&mdash;maybe&mdash;a bit laid by for a rainy
+day into the bargain!"</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Too Good for Her!"</div>
+
+<p>The jennet jogged slowly on as Patrick soliloquised. "The poor lad, but
+it makes me heart ache to see him so low-like, setting so quiet in the
+house, and him thinking, thinking all the blessed while, and never a
+word out o' his mouth to complain. He's a rale good lad, and it's sorry
+I am that he should take on so bad, and all for the sake o' a pair o'
+bright eyes! To see him when Biddy Joyce was sick and Mike got laid up
+with rheumatics; who was it minded the cattle, and fed the pigs, and sat
+early and late 'tending on the pair o' thim but Dermot! It's mighty high
+the girl is, with her talk o' the gintry and the ilegant places she seen
+in London, and never a mintion o' his name in all her letthers, the
+foolish craythur! it's too good the bhoy is for the likes o' her!" The
+old man was beginning to wax indignant over his son's unfavoured suit
+when a voice, rich and strong, called to him across the loose stone wall
+that divided the road from the fields.</p>
+
+<p>"Any news going down Lissough way, father?" It was Dermot, who had
+stopped for a moment in his task of cutting down the long grass.</p>
+
+<p>"Arrah, phwat news is it likely an old man like me should bring? You ask
+me so eager-like that I misdoubt me but it's some colleen that's caught
+your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span>eye!" Patrick's eyes twinkled merrily as he made his little joke.
+Dermot's face saddened, and he turned to his scythe once more.</p>
+
+<p>His father, sorry that he had brought back the cloud once more to his
+son's face, pulled the letter from his pocket and laid it on the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, there's for yez! as lovely a letther as ever you seen, all the way
+from London, with a little picthur of an agle on the back o' it! 'Tis
+for Biddy Joyce, and maybe ye'll take it, Dermot, seeing your legs is
+younger than mine?"</p>
+
+<p>Dermot was off already, climbing the mountain slopes in hot haste.</p>
+
+<p>Biddy Joyce stood watching him from the door where Eily and he had
+parted months before.</p>
+
+<p>"The poor fellow! it's like me own son he has been all this time, so
+kind when the sickness took hould o' Mike and me! It's meself that
+wishes he could forget me daughter, for it's poor comfort she will ever
+be to him. Faith, thin, Dermot," she exclaimed, as he came towards her,
+"phwat is it at all at all that ye come hurrying like this when the sun
+is warm enough to kill a body? Come inside, lad, and taste a sup o' me
+nice, sweet butther-milk; shure the churn's just done, though the
+butther's too soft entoirely"&mdash;she shook her head sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"A letther!" cried Dermot, drawing out the treasured epistle from
+between the folds of his shirt, where he had hastily thrust it, that his
+hands might not soil the creamy paper.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks be to God!" exclaimed the woman, raising her eyes and hands for
+one moment to heaven. "'Tis long sence she wrote to me, the poor
+darlint, and it's many a time I lie awake and think o' the child all
+alone wid sthrangers not of her own blood. Whisht, boy, but you are
+worse nor meself I make no doubts"&mdash;as Dermot snatched the letter from
+her and hastily tore open the envelope. His face was pale with
+excitement and dread, for he feared, with a lover's jealous <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span>fear, that
+this was an announcement of Eily's marriage with some of the grand folks
+she had talked about.</p>
+
+<p>"Rade it, Dermot; 'tis long sence I was at school, and the writin's not
+aisy."</p>
+
+<p>Dermot obeyed, and this is the letter he spelt out slowly, with no
+little difficulty and several interruptions&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"Miss Vandaleur is sorry to tell Mrs. Joyce that
+her daughter Eily has been suffering from a severe
+illness; she has been in hospital for three weeks
+with brain fever, and until a few days ago was
+unable to give her mother's address. She is now
+much better, and the doctors hope to allow her to
+leave soon; she is being taken every care of by
+friends, but if some one could be spared to come
+such a long distance to see her, it would be the
+best thing for the poor girl, as she is always
+wishing for her home, and seems tired of living in
+London." </p></div>
+
+<p>Biddy Joyce was weeping bitterly before the end of the letter, with her
+blue-checked apron held up to her eyes; three or four of the little ones
+had gathered around, staring with wide-open eyes.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Dermot's Resolve</div>
+
+<p>Dermot kept up bravely till the last sentence, and then he could stand
+it no longer; he rushed out of the house, down the stony boreen. Eily
+sick and ill! Eily well-nigh at death's door! Eily far away in hospital
+with strange hands to tend her! Poor girl, his love, his darlint! she
+was tired of it all, wishing for home; oh, how his heart yearned for
+her, and he longed to take her in his arms and comfort her.</p>
+
+<p>He wandered aimlessly about the mountain side until his emotion had
+well-nigh subsided, and then he plunged into the Joyces' cabin once
+more.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Joyce, it's to-morrow, early mornin', you and me musht shtart for
+London!"</p>
+
+<p>Biddy looked up quickly. "To-morrow! the bhoy's crazy entoirely! It will
+be a week before I can go.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span> Who will look after the house and the hins,
+and the childer, not forgetting Mike himself? I musht wait till me
+sister comes from Ballinahinch, and thin I will go to the child. She's
+betther, and near well, or the docthors wouldn't be for lettin' her out
+o' hospital, and faith, her aunt, me sisther Delia, will look afther her
+for a bit until I find it convaynient to lave; shure Mike himself will
+write to Eily and tell her I'm coming; that will cheer her heart up, the
+poor sowl."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe ye are right, Mrs. Joyce." Dermot said no more, but turned slowly
+away.</p>
+
+<p>With a firm step and an air of decision he walked homewards across the
+fields.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, it's going to London I am," he said as he entered the house;
+"will ye see me clothes is ready, and put me up a bit o' bread? That's
+all I'll trouble ye for."</p>
+
+<p>Honor O'Malley looked at the tall, manly figure of her only son, at the
+frank, proud face, the bright blue eyes, and the firmly-set mouth; the
+exclamation that was on her lips died away.</p>
+
+<p>"God bless ye, me own bhoy!" she cried instead, in a half-smothered
+voice, and bent, down over the hearth to hide the tears that rose to her
+eyes and choked her utterance.</p>
+
+<p>Dermot climbed the ladder that led to the tiny room in the roof where he
+slept; from beneath the mattress he drew a box, which he unlocked
+carefully. A small pile of sovereigns lay at the bottom; he counted them
+carefully, although he knew exactly the sum the little box contained;
+after fingering them almost lovingly for a few moments he transferred
+them to a small canvas bag, which he put in his pocket. "Maybe 'twill
+all be wanted," he exclaimed, with a happy gleam in his eye; "maybe, and
+maybe not, but howsoever it goes, one look at her blessed face will be
+worth it all!"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>In a pretty, low-ceiled parlour, whose windows looked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span>out upon a
+pleasant garden, lay Eily. The wide, old-fashioned sofa was drawn close
+to an open window, that she might feel the soft, cool air on her cheeks,
+and sniff the fragrance of the mignonette that filled the beds outside.
+It was a very thin face that lay upon the soft down pillow, but a slight
+tinge of pink on her cheeks told of returning health. Her abundant black
+tresses had been ruthlessly shorn away, and tiny curls clustered around
+forehead and neck; her eyes, dark as sloes, were large and thoughtful.
+Two days before she had been removed from the great London hospital, and
+brought by Miss Vandaleur to her father's country-home, where the
+kindliest of white-haired house-keepers watched over her beloved Miss
+Bee's <i>prot&eacute;g&eacute;e</i>, tending her with gentlest care.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-morning, Eily;" Miss Vandaleur, in a simple morning gown of white,
+entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>Eily struggled to her feet. "Good-morning, miss, your honour!"</p>
+
+<p>Bee laughed good-naturedly; it was funny to hear herself addressed by
+such a title.</p>
+
+<p>"Now lie still, Eily, you are not quite strong yet. Tell me, are you
+happy here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Happy! Arrah, it's like heaven, miss; my blessin' and the blessin' of
+God on ye for all your kindness to a poor girl. Shure, but for yourself
+I would have been in me grave this day."</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">"Is there no one else?"</div>
+
+<p>"I am glad you are happy, Eily; but is there no one you would like to
+see, no one from home, I mean? Just say the word; perhaps I can manage
+it," she said slyly.</p>
+
+<p>"Shure there's me mother&mdash;maybe me father too; but you could scarce get
+them here, miss&mdash;beggin' your honour's pardon," she added hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there no one else, Eily? no one that you think of sometimes&mdash;no one
+who was kind to you, and loved you dearly?" Bee was leaning over the wan
+face eagerly, and what she saw for answer was a deep crimson flush that
+covered face, neck, and brow, while <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span>tears rolled down the cheeks. Eily
+had been thinking of Dermot continually of late, wishing with all her
+heart that she had not so scorned his love; she had learnt many lessons
+in the quiet watches of the night and the weary hours of weakness
+through which she had passed.</p>
+
+<p>Bee Vandaleur said no more, but patted the dark curls gently. "Don't
+cry, Eily, all will be right soon," and she left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Eily was alone once more.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Dermot, Dermot asthore! why was it I trated ye so!" The tears were
+trickling through her fingers, and her heart was aching with
+self-reproach.</p>
+
+<p>"Eily, mavourneen!"</p>
+
+<p>The tear-stained fingers were taken in two big, strong hands, and
+Dermot, with a depth of love in his eyes, bent over the sorrow-stricken
+face and laid a kiss on the quivering lips; not another word was spoken,
+but Dermot's protecting arms were around her, and with her head on the
+heart that throbbed with love and devotion all the past was blotted out,
+all her folly forgotten, and Eily found rest.</p>
+
+<p>In a surprisingly short time Eily regained her health; happiness is the
+best of medicine, and Eily felt she had as much as her heart could hold.
+Looking at Dermot with a lover's eyes she found out all that was noble
+and good in him, and when he asked her to be his wife ere a week had
+flown by she gave a glad consent.</p>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON</div>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3>
+
+<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p>
+
+<p>Varied hyphenation retained between different authors' stories.</p>
+
+<p>Page 63, A character named "Robert" appears in a sidenote and one
+paragraph. In the next paragraph his name is changed to Max. The first
+two instances have been changed to Max to conform. (Uncle
+Max) and (it was so, Max.)</p>
+
+<p>The story entitled "Poor Jane's Brother" is credited to M. Ling
+in the table of contents and in the list of authors, but the page
+on which the story begins lists Marie F. Salton as the author.
+This discrepancy was retained.
+</p>
+
+<p>An illustration was included in this volume originally on page 38. However it does not
+seem to belong with any of the stories this book contains. It is included here.</p>
+<div><a name="picnic" id="picnic"></a></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 241px;">
+<img src="images/2.jpg" width="241" height="400" alt="AT THE PICNIC: I SHAN&#39;T PLAY IF YOU FELLOWS ARE SO ROUGH!&quot;" title="AT THE PICNIC: I SHAN&#39;T PLAY IF YOU FELLOWS ARE SO ROUGH!&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">AT THE PICNIC: &quot;I SHAN&#39;T PLAY IF YOU FELLOWS ARE SO ROUGH!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections.
+Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMPIRE ANNUAL FOR GIRLS, 1911***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 18661-h.txt or 18661-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/6/6/18661">http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/6/6/18661</a></p>
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@@ -0,0 +1,15228 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Empire Annual for Girls, 1911, by
+Various, Edited by A. R. Buckland
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Empire Annual for Girls, 1911
+
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: A. R. Buckland
+
+Release Date: June 23, 2006  [eBook #18661]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMPIRE ANNUAL FOR GIRLS,
+1911***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Michael Ciesielski, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 18661-h.htm or 18661-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/6/6/18661/18661-h/18661-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/6/6/18661/18661-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+THE EMPIRE ANNUAL FOR GIRLS
+
+Edited by
+
+A. R. BUCKLAND, M.A.
+
+With Contributions by
+
+          LADY CATHERINE MILNES-GASKELL.
+          Mrs. CREIGHTON.
+          Mrs. MACQUOID.
+          Mrs. BALFOUR MURPHY.
+          Mrs. G. de HORNE VAIZEY.
+          A. R. BUCKLAND.
+          FRANK ELIAS.
+          AGNES GIBERNE.
+          SOMERVILLE GIBNEY.
+          EDITH C. KENYON.
+          M. E. LONGMORE.
+          MAUD MADDICK.
+          M. B. MANWELL.
+          FLORENCE MOON.
+          E. B. MOORE.
+          MADELINE OYLER.
+          HENRY WILLIAMS.
+          Etc., etc.
+
+With Coloured Plates and Sixteen Black and White Illustrations.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+London:
+4 Bouverie Street, E.C.
+1911.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
+384 pp. demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with Coloured Plates and
+16 Black and White Illustrations.
+
+THE EMPIRE ANNUAL FOR BOYS
+
+Edited by A. R. BUCKLAND, M.A.
+
+With contributions by MORLEY ADAMS, W. GRINTON
+BERRY, TOM BEVAN, A. W. COOPER, W. S. DOUGLAS,
+FRANK ELIAS, LAURENCE M. GIBSON, W. J.
+GORDON, F. M. HOLMES, RAMSAY GUTHRIE,
+C. H. IRWIN, J. B. KNOWLTON, W. C.
+METCALFE, A. J. H. MOULE, ERNEST
+PROTHEROE, GORDON STABLES,
+C. E. TYNDALE-BISCOE,
+ETC., ETC.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+[Illustration: RACE FOR LIFE. _See page 72_]
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                        PAGE
+THE CHRISTMAS CHILD
+                         MRS. G. DE HORNE VAIZEY           9
+  _The story of a happy thought, a strange discovery,
+  and a deed of love_
+
+
+ANNA                                                      22
+                                     MRS. MACQUOID
+  _A girl's adventure for a father's sake_
+
+
+TO GIRLS OF THE EMPIRE                                    39
+                                     MRS. CREIGHTON
+  _Words of encouragement and stimulus to the daughters
+  of the Nation_
+
+
+MY DANGEROUS MANIAC                                       45
+                                    LESLIE M. OYLER
+  _The singular adventure of two young people_
+
+
+JIM RATTRAY, TROOPER                                      52
+                                   KELSO B. JOHNSON
+  _A story of the North-West Mounted Police_
+
+
+MARY'S STEPPING ASIDE                                     59
+                                    EDITH C. KENYON
+  _Self-sacrifice bringing in the end its own reward_
+
+
+A RACE FOR LIFE                                           66
+                                   LUCIE E. JACKSON
+  _A frontier incident from the Far West_
+
+WHICH OF THE TWO?                                         74
+                                      AGNES GIBERNE
+  _A question of duty or inclination_
+
+
+A CHRISTMAS WITH AUSTRALIAN BLACKS                        89
+                                       J. S. PONDER
+  _An unusual but interesting Christmas party described_
+
+
+MY MISTRESS ELIZABETH                                     96
+                                       ANNIE ARMITT
+  _A story of self-sacrifice and treachery in Sedgemoor days_
+
+
+GIRL LIFE IN CANADA                                      114
+                                       JANEY CANUCK
+  _Girl life described by a resident in Alberta_
+
+
+SUCH A TREASURE!                                         120
+                                    EILEEN O'CONNOR
+  _How a New Zealand girl found her true calling_
+
+
+ROSETTE IN PERIL                                         131
+                                          M. LEFUSE
+  _A girl's strange adventures in the war of La Vendee_
+
+
+GOLF FOR GIRLS                                           143
+                                      AN OLD STAGER
+  _Some practical advice to beginners and others_
+
+
+SUNNY MISS MARTIN                                        148
+                                  SOMERVILLE GIBNEY
+  _A story of misunderstanding, patience, and reconciliation_
+
+
+WHILST WAITING FOR THE MOTOR                             160
+                                     MADELINE OYLER
+  _A warning to juvenile offenders_
+
+
+THE GRUMPY MAN                                           165
+                                  MRS. HARTLEY PERKS
+  _A child's intervention and its results_
+
+DOGS WE HAVE KNOWN                                       183
+                       LADY CATHERINE MILNES-GASKELL
+  _True stories of dog life_
+
+
+DAFT BESS                                                197
+                                   KATE BURNLEY BENT
+  _A tale of the Cornish Coast_
+
+
+A SPRINGTIME DUET                                        203
+                                         MARY LESLIE
+  _A domestic chant for spring-cleaning days._
+
+
+OUT OF DEADLY PERIL                                      204
+                                   K. BALFOUR MURPHY
+  _A skating episode in Canada_
+
+
+THE PEARL-RIMMED LOCKET                                  211
+                                       M. B. MANWELL
+  _The detection of a strange offender_
+
+
+REMBRANDT'S SISTER                                       221
+                                      HENRY WILLIAMS
+  _A record of affection and self-sacrifice_
+
+
+HEPSIE'S XMAS VISIT                                      230
+                                        MAUD MADDICK
+  _A child's misdeed and its unexpected results_
+
+
+OUR AFRICAN DRIVER                                       238
+                                    J. H. SPETTIGUE
+  _A glimpse of South African life_
+
+
+CLAUDIA'S PLACE                                          247
+                                     A. R. BUCKLAND
+  _How Claudia changed her views_
+
+
+FAMOUS WOMEN PIONEERS                                    260
+                                        FRANK ELIAS
+  _Some of the women who have helped to open up new lands_
+
+POOR JANE'S BROTHER                                      266
+                                            M. LING
+  _The strange adventures of two little people_
+
+
+THE SUGAR-CREEK HIGHWAYMAN                               285
+                                     ADELA E. ORPEN
+  _An alarm and a discovery_
+
+
+DOROTHY'S DAY                                            294
+                                     M. E. LONGMORE
+  _A day beginning in sorrow and ending in joy_
+
+
+A STRANGE MOOSE HUNT                                     310
+                                  H. WILLIAM DAWSON
+  _A hunt that nearly ended in a tragedy_
+
+
+A GIRL'S PATIENCE                                        317
+                                       C. J. BLAKE
+  _A difficult part well played_
+
+
+THE TASMANIAN SISTERS                                    342
+                                       E. B. MOORE
+  _A story of loving service and changed lives_
+
+
+THE QUEEN OF CONNEMARA                                   362
+                                     FLORENCE MOON
+  _An Irish girl's awakening_
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+IN COLOUR
+
+ROSALIND'S RACE FOR LIFE                               _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                        _Facing Page_
+
+"THE SON OF MAN CAME NOT TO BE MINISTERED UNTO, BUT TO MINISTER"  44
+
+"YOUR SISTER IS COMING?" HE SAID                                  80
+
+MRS. MEADOWS' BROTHER ARRIVED                                    130
+
+AT THE SHOW                                                      184
+
+"DO FORGIVE ME, MOTHER DARLING!"                                 232
+
+HER HOSTESS HAD BEEN FEEDING THE PEACOCKS                        308
+
+
+IN BLACK AND WHITE
+
+"I SHAN'T PLAY IF YOU FELLOWS ARE SO ROUGH!"                      38
+
+GERALD LOOKS PUZZLED                                              46
+
+IT WAS UNDER A NOBLE TREE THAT MAX ASKED MARY TO MARRY HIM        64
+
+"GALLANTS LOUNGING IN THE PARK"                                   98
+
+LOOKING AT HIM, I SAW THAT HE WAS HAGGARD AND STRANGE            106
+
+GOLF FOR GIRLS--A BREEZY MORNING                                 144
+
+SELINA MARTYN GAVE HER ANSWER                                    158
+
+"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE COME ABOUT THE GAS BILL"                       170
+
+THE ROCK SHE CLUNG TO GAVE WAY                                   200
+
+SPRING CLEANING                                                  203
+
+HORRIBLE DREAMS OF MONSTERS AND DEMONS                           216
+
+HER VERY YOUTH PLEADED FOR HER                                   249
+
+BARBARA'S VISIT                                                  268
+
+"AS HE KISSED HIS FIRSTBORN UNDER THE MISTLETOE"                 340
+
+"NOW I AM GOING TO FAN YOU," SHE SAID                            348
+
+EILY STOOD A FORLORN, DESOLATE FIGURE ON EUSTON PLATFORM         366
+
+
+
+
+INDEX TO AUTHORS
+
+
+                                              PAGE
+          ARMITT, ANNIE                         96
+          BENT, KATE BURNLEY                   197
+          BLAKE, C. J.                         317
+          BUCKLAND, A. R.                      247
+          CANUCK, JANEY                        114
+          CREIGHTON, MRS.                       39
+          DAWSON, H. WILLIAM                   310
+          ELIAS, FRANK                         260
+          GIBERNE, AGNES                        74
+          GIBNEY, SOMERVILLE                   148
+          JACKSON, LUCIE E.                     66
+          JOHNSON, KELSO B.                     52
+          KENYON, EDITH C.                      59
+          LEFUSE, M.                           131
+          LESLIE, MARY                         203
+          LING, M.                             266
+          LONGMORE, M. E.                      294
+          MACQUOID, MRS.                        22
+          MADDICK, MAUD                        230
+          MANWELL, M. B.                       211
+          MILNES-GASKELL, LADY CATHERINE       183
+          MOON, FLORENCE                       362
+          MOORE, E. B.                         342
+          MURPHY, K. BALFOUR                   204
+          O'CONNOR, EILEEN                     120
+          OLD STAGER, AN                       143
+          OYLER, LESLIE M.                      45
+          OYLER, MADELINE                      160
+          ORPEN, ADELA E.                      285
+          PERKS, MRS. HARTLEY                  165
+          PONDER, J. S.                         89
+          SPETTIGUE, J. H.                     238
+          VAIZEY, MRS. G. DE HORNE               9
+          WILLIAMS, HENRY                      221
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A happy thought, a cross-country journey, a strange
+discovery, another happy thought, and many still happier thoughts
+hereafter!]
+
+The Christmas Child
+
+BY
+
+MRS. G. DE HORNE VAIZEY
+
+
+Jack said: "Nonsense! We are all grown up now. Let Christmas alone. Take
+no notice of it; treat it as if it were an ordinary day."
+
+Margaret said: "The servants have all begged for leave. Most of their
+mothers are dying, and if they are not, it's a sister who is going to be
+married. Really, it's a servants' ball which the Squire is giving in the
+village hall. Mean, I call it, to decoy one's maids just when one needs
+them most!"
+
+Tom said: "Beastly jolly dull show anyhow, to spend the day alone with
+your brothers and sisters. Better chuck it at once!"
+
+Peg said firmly and with emphasis: "_Heathen!_ Miserable, cold-blooded,
+materially-minded _frogs_! Where's your Christmas spirit, I should like
+to know? . . . If you have none for yourselves, think of other people.
+Think of _me_! I love my Christmas, and I'm not going to give it up for
+you or any one else. My very first Christmas at home as a growed-up
+lady, and you want to diddle me out of it. . . . Go to! Likewise, avaunt!
+Now by my halidom, good sirs, you know not with whom you have to deal.
+'Tis my royal pleasure the revels proceed!"
+
+Jack grimaced eloquently at Margaret, who grimaced back.
+
+"With all the pleasure in the world," he said suavely. "Show me a revel,
+and I'll revel with the best. I like revels. What I do _not_ like is to
+stodge at home eating an indigestible meal, and pretending that I'm full
+of glee, when in reality I'm bored to death. If you could suggest a
+change. . . ."
+
+Margaret sighed; Tom sniffed; Peg pursed up her lips and thought.
+Presently her eyes brightened. "Of course," she remarked tentatively,
+"there are the Revells!"
+
+Jack flushed and bit his lips.
+
+"Quite so! There are. Fifty miles away, and not a spare bed in the
+house. Lot of good they are to us, to be sure! Were you going to suggest
+that we dropped in for a quiet call? Silly nonsense, to talk of a thing
+like that."
+
+Jack was quite testy and huffed, for the suggestion touched a tender
+point. The Revells were the friends _par excellence_ of the family of
+which he was the youthful head. It seemed, indeed, as if the two
+households had been specially manufactured so that each should fit the
+wants of the other. Jack was very certain that, in any case, Myra Revell
+supplied all that _he_ lacked, and the very thought of spending
+Christmas Day in her company sent a pang of longing through his heart.
+Margaret cherished a romantic admiration for Mrs. Revell, who was still
+a girl at heart despite the presence of a grown-up family. Dennis was at
+Marlborough with Tom; while Pat or Patricia was Peg's bosom chum.
+
+What could you wish for more? A Christmas spent with the Revells would
+be a pure delight; but alas! fifty miles of some of the wildest and
+bleakest country in England stretched between the two homes, which,
+being on different lines of railway, were inaccessible by the ordinary
+route. Moreover, the Revells were, as they themselves cheerfully
+declared, "reduced paupers," and inhabited a picturesquely dilapidated
+old farmhouse, and the problem, "_Where do they all sleep?_" was as
+engrossing as a jig-saw puzzle to their inquisitive friends. Impossible
+that even a cat could be invited to swing itself within those crowded
+portals; equally impossible to attempt to separate such an affectionate
+family at Christmas-time of all seasons of the year.
+
+[Sidenote: Peg Startles Everybody]
+
+And yet here was Peg deliberately raking up the painful topic; and after
+the other members of the family had duly reproached and abused, ready to
+level another bolt at their heads.
+
+"S--uppose we went a burst--hired a car, drove over early in the
+morning, and marched into church before their very eyes!"
+
+Silence! Sparkling eyes; alert, thoughtful gaze. Could they? Should
+they? Would it be right? A motor for the day meant an expenditure of
+four or five pounds, and though the exchequer was in a fairly prosperous
+condition, five-pound notes could not be treated with indifference.
+Still, in each mind ran the echo of Peg's words. It was Christmas-time.
+Why should they not, just for once, give themselves a treat--themselves,
+and their dear friends into the bargain?
+
+The sparkle deepened; a flash passed from eye to eye, a flash of
+determination! Without a word of dissent or discussion the proposal was
+seconded, and carried through.
+
+"Fifty miles! We can't go above twenty-five an hour through those bad
+roads. We shall have to be off by nine, if we want to be in time for
+church. What _will_ they think when they see us marching in?"
+
+"No, no, we mustn't do that. Mrs. Revell would be in a fever the whole
+time, asking herself, '_Will the pudding go round?_' It really wouldn't
+be kind," pleaded Margaret earnestly, and her hearers chuckled
+reminiscently. Mrs. Revell was a darling, but she was also an
+appallingly bad housekeeper. Living two miles from the nearest shop, she
+yet appeared constitutionally incapable of "thinking ahead"; and it was
+a common experience to behold at the afternoon meal different members of
+the family partaking respectively of tea, coffee, and cocoa, there being
+insufficient of any one beverage to go round.
+
+Margaret's sympathies went out involuntarily towards her friend, but her
+listeners, it is to be feared, were concerned entirely for themselves.
+It might be the custom to abuse the orthodox Christmas dinner, but since
+it _was_ a national custom which one did not care to break, it behoved
+one to have as good a specimen as possible, and the prospect of short
+commons, and indifferent short commons at that, was not attractive.
+_Who_ could be sure that the turkey might not arrive at the table singed
+and charred, and the pudding in a condition of _soup_?
+
+Schoolboy Tom was quick with a suggestion.
+
+"I say--tell you what! Do the surprise-party business, and take a hamper
+with us. . . . Only decent thing to do, when you march in four strong to
+another person's feed. Dennis would love a hamper----"
+
+"Ha! Good! Fine idea! So we will! A real old-fashioned hamper, full of
+all the good things they are least likely to have. Game pie----"
+
+"Tongue--one of those big, shiny fellows, with scriggles of sugar down
+his back----"
+
+"Ice-pudding in a tin----"
+
+"Fancy creams----"
+
+"French fruits----"
+
+"Crackers! Handsome ones, with things inside that are worth having----"
+
+"Bon-bons----"
+
+Each one had a fresh suggestion to make, and Margaret scribbled them all
+down on the ivory tablet which hung from her waist, and promptly
+adjourned into the kitchen to give the necessary orders, and to rejoice
+the hearts of her handmaidens by granting a day's leave all round.
+
+On further consideration it was decided to attend early service at
+home, and to start off on the day's expedition at eleven o'clock,
+arriving at the Revell homestead about one, by which time it was
+calculated that the family would have returned from church, and would be
+hanging aimlessly about the garden, in the very mood of all others to
+welcome an unexpected excitement.
+
+Christmas Day broke clear and bright. Punctual to the minute the motor
+came puffing along, the youthful-looking chauffeur drawing up before the
+door with an air of conscious complaisance.
+
+Despite his very professional attire--perhaps, indeed, because of it--so
+very youthful did he appear, that Jack was visited by a qualm.
+
+"Er--er--are you going to drive us all the way?" he inquired anxiously.
+"When I engaged the car, I saw . . . I thought I had arranged with----"
+
+"My father, sir. It was my father you saw. Father said, being Christmas
+Day, he didn't care to turn out, so he sent me----"
+
+"You are a qualified driver--quite capable . . . ?"
+
+[Sidenote: A Good Start]
+
+The lad smiled, a smile of ineffable calm. His eyelids drooped, the
+corners of his mouth twitched and were still. He replied with two words
+only, an unadorned "Yes, sir," but there was a colossal, a Napoleonic
+confidence in his manner, which proved quite embarrassing to his
+hearers. Margaret pinched Jack's arm as a protest against further
+questionings; Jack murmured something extraordinarily like an apology;
+then they all tumbled into the car, tucked the rugs round their knees,
+turned up the collars of their coats, and sailed off on the smooth,
+swift voyage through the wintry air.
+
+For the first hour all went without a hitch. The youthful chauffeur
+drove smoothly and well; he had not much knowledge of the countryside;
+but as Jack knew every turn by heart, having frequently bicycled over
+the route, no delay was caused, and a merrier party of Christmas
+revellers could not have been found than the four occupants of the
+tonneau. They sang, they laughed, they told stories, and asked riddles;
+they ate sandwiches out of a tin, and drank hot coffee out of a thermos
+flask, and congratulated themselves, not once, but a dozen times, over
+their own ingenuity in hitting upon such a delightful variation to the
+usual Christmas programme.
+
+More than half the distance had been accomplished; the worst part of the
+road had been reached, and the car was beginning to bump and jerk in a
+somewhat uncomfortable fashion. Jack frowned, and looked at the slight
+figure of the chauffeur with a returning doubt.
+
+"He's all right on smooth roads, but this part needs a lot of driving.
+Another time----" He set his lips, and mentally rehearsed the complaints
+which he would make to "my father" when he paid the bill. Margaret gave
+a squeal, and looked doubtfully over the side.
+
+"I--I suppose it's all right! What would happen if he lost control, and
+we slipped back all the way downhill?"
+
+"It isn't a question of control. It's a question of the strength of the
+car. It's powerful enough for worse hills than this."
+
+"What's that funny noise? It didn't sound like that before. Kind of a
+clickety-clack. . . . Don't you hear it?"
+
+"No. Of course not. Don't be stupid and imagine things that don't
+exist. . . . What's the difference between----"
+
+Jack nobly tried to distract attention from the car, but before another
+mile had been traversed, the clickety-clack noise grew too loud to be
+ignored, the car drew up with a jerk, and the chauffeur leaped out.
+
+"I must just see----" he murmured vaguely; vaguely also he seemed to
+grope at the machinery of the car, while the four occupants of the
+tonneau hung over the doors watching his progress; then once more
+springing to his seat, he started the car, and they went bumping
+unevenly along the road. No more singing now; no more laughing and
+telling of tales; deep in each breast lay the presage of coming ill;
+four pairs of eyes scanned the dreary waste of surrounding country,
+while four brains busily counted up the number of miles which still lay
+between them and their destination. Twenty miles at least, and not a
+house in sight except one dreary stone edifice standing back from the
+road, behind a mass of evergreen trees.
+
+"This fellow is no good for rough roads. He would wear out a car in no
+time, to say nothing of the passengers. Can't think why we haven't had a
+puncture before now!" said Jack gloomily; whereupon Margaret called him
+sharply to order.
+
+"Don't say such things . . . don't think them. It's very wrong. You ought
+always to expect the best----"
+
+"Don't suppose my thinking is going to have any effect on rubber, do
+you?" Jack's tone was decidedly snappy. He was a lover, and it tortured
+him to think that an accident to the car might delay his meeting with
+his love. He had never spent a Christmas Day with Myra before; surely on
+this day of days she would be kinder, sweeter, relax a little of her
+proud restraint. Perhaps there would be mistletoe. . . . Suppose he found
+himself alone with Myra beneath the mistletoe bough? Suppose he kissed
+her? Suppose she turned upon him with her dignified little air and
+reproached him, saying he had no right? Suppose he said, "_Myra! will
+you give me the right?_" . . .
+
+No wonder that the car seemed slow to the lover's mind; no wonder that
+every fresh jerk and strain deepened the frown on his brow. The road was
+strewn with rough, sharp stones; but in another mile or two they would
+be on a smooth high-road once more. If only they could last out those
+few miles!
+
+[Sidenote: A Puncture]
+
+Bang! A sharp, pistol-like noise rent the air, a noise which told its
+own tale to the listening ears. A tyre had punctured, and a dreary
+half-hour's delay must be faced while the youthful chauffeur repaired
+the damage. The passengers leaped to the ground, and exhausted
+themselves in lamentations. They were already behind time, and this new
+delay would make them later than ever. . . . Suddenly they became aware
+that they were cold and tired--shivering with cold. Peg looked down at
+her boots, and supposed that there were feet inside, but as a matter of
+sensation it was really impossible to say. Margaret's nose was a cheery
+plaid--blue patches neatly veined with red. Jack looked from one to the
+other and forgot his own impatience in anxiety for their welfare.
+
+"Girls, you look frozen! Cut away up to that house, and ask them to let
+you sit by the fire for half an hour. Much better than hanging about
+here. I'll come for you when we are ready."
+
+The girls glanced doubtfully at the squat, white house, which in truth
+looked the reverse of hospitable; but the prospect of a fire being
+all-powerful at the moment, they turned obediently, and made their way
+up a worn gravel path, leading to the shabbiest of painted doors.
+
+Margaret knocked; Peg rapped; then Margaret knocked again; but nobody
+came, and not a sound broke the stillness within. The girls shivered and
+told each other disconsolately there was no one to come. Who _would_
+live in such a dreary house, in such a dreary, solitary waste, if it
+were possible to live anywhere else? Then they strolled round the corner
+of the house, and caught the cheerful glow of firelight, which settled
+the question, once for all.
+
+"Let's try the back door!" said Margaret, and the back door being found,
+they knocked again, but knocked in vain. Then Peg gave an impatient
+shake to the handle, and lo and behold! it turned in her hand, and swung
+slowly open on its hinges, showing a glimpse of a trim little kitchen,
+and beyond that a narrow passage leading to the front door.
+
+"Is any one there? Is any one there?" chanted Margaret loudly. She took
+a hesitating step into the passage--took two; repeated the cry in an
+even higher key; but still no answer came, still the same uncanny
+silence brooded over all.
+
+The girls stood still, and gazed in each other's eyes; in each face were
+reflected the same emotions--curiosity, interest, a tinge of fear.
+
+What could it mean? Could there be some one within these silent walls
+who was _ill_, helpless, in need of aid?
+
+"I think," declared Margaret firmly, "that it is our duty to look. . . ."
+In after days she always absolved herself from any charge of curiosity
+in this decision, and declared that her action was dictated solely by a
+feeling of duty; but her hearers had their doubts. Be that as it might,
+the decision fell in well with Peg's wishes, and the two girls walked
+slowly down the passage, repeating from time to time the cry "Is any one
+there?" the while their eyes busily scanned all they could see, and drew
+Sherlock Holmes conclusions therefrom.
+
+[Sidenote: What the Girls found]
+
+The house belonged to a couple who had a great many children and very
+little money. There was a cupboard beneath the stairs filled with shabby
+little boots; there was a hat-rack in the hall covered with shabby
+little caps. They were people of education and culture, for there were
+books in profusion, and the few pictures on the walls showed an artistic
+taste; they were tidy people also, for everything was in order, and a
+peep into the firelit room on the right showed the table set ready for
+the Christmas meal. It was like wandering through the enchanted empty
+palaces of the dear old fairy-tales, except that it was not a palace at
+all, and the banquet spread out on the darned white cloth was of so
+meagre a description, that at the sight the beholders flushed with a
+shamed surprise.
+
+That Christmas table--should they ever forget it? If they lived to be a
+hundred years old should they ever again behold a feast so poor in
+material goods, so rich in beauty of thought? For it would appear that
+though money was wanting, there was no lack of love and poetry in this
+lonely home. The table was decked with great bunches of holly, and
+before every seat a little card bore the name of a member of the family,
+printed on a card, which had been further embellished by a flower or
+spray, painted by an artist whose taste was in advance of his
+skill--"Father," "Mother," "Amy," "Fred," "Norton," "Mary," "Teddums,"
+"May." Eight names in all, but nine chairs, and the ninth no ordinary,
+cane-seated chair like the rest, but a beautiful, high-backed,
+carved-oak erection, ecclesiastical in design, which looked strangely
+out of place in the bare room.
+
+There was no card before this ninth chair, but on the uncushioned seat
+lay a square piece of cardboard, bordered with a painted wreath of
+holly, inscribed on which were four short words.
+
+Margaret and Peg read them with a sudden shortening of the breath and
+smarting of the eyes:
+
+"_For the Christ Child!_"
+
+"Ah-h!" Margaret's hand stretched out, seized Peg's, and held it fast.
+In the rush and bustle of the morning it had been hard to realise the
+meaning of the day: now, for the first time, the spirit of Christmas
+flooded her heart, filled it with love, with a longing to help and to
+serve.
+
+"Peg! Peg!" she cried breathlessly. "How beautiful of them! They have so
+little themselves, but they have remembered the old custom, the sweet
+old custom, and made _Him_ welcome. . . ." Her eyes roamed to the window,
+and lit with sudden inspiration. She lifted her hand and pointed to a
+distant steeple rising above the trees. "They have all gone off to
+church--father and mother, and Amy and Fred--all the family together!
+That's why the house is empty. And dinner is waiting for their return!"
+
+She turned again to the table, her housekeeper's eye taking in at a
+flash the paucity of its furnishings. "Peg! can this be _all_? _All_
+that they have to eat . . . ? Let us look in the kitchen. . . . I must
+make quite sure. . . ."
+
+There was no feeling of embarrassment, no consciousness of impertinent
+curiosity, in the girls' minds as they investigated the contents of
+kitchen and larder. At that moment the house seemed their own, its
+people their people; they were just two more members of a big family,
+whose duty it was to look after the interests of their brothers and
+sisters while they were away; and when evidences of poverty and
+emptiness met them on every side, the two pairs of eyes met with a
+mutual impulse, so strong that it needed not to be put into words.
+
+In another moment they had left the house behind and were running
+swiftly across the meadow towards the car. The chauffeur was busily
+engaged on the tyre, Jack and Tom helping, or hindering as the case
+might be. The hamper lay on the ground where it had been placed for
+greater security during the repairs. The girls nipped it up by its
+handles, and ran off again, regardless of protests and inquiries.
+
+It was very heavy, delightfully heavy: the bearers rejoiced in its
+weight, wished it had been three times as heavy; the aching of their
+arms was a positive joy to them as they bore their burden into the
+little dining-room, and laid it down upon the floor.
+
+[Sidenote: What shall we do with it?]
+
+"Now! What shall we do now? Shall we lay out the things and make a
+display on the table, or shall we put the pie in the oven beside that
+tiny ghost of a joint, and the pudding in a pan beside the potatoes?
+Which do you think would be best?"
+
+But Margaret shook her head.
+
+"Neither! Oh! don't you see, both ways would look too human, too
+material. They would show too plainly that strangers had been in, and
+had interfered. I want it to look like a Christmas miracle . . . as if it
+had come straight. . . . We'll lay the basket just as it is, on the Christ
+Child's chair. . . ."
+
+Peg nodded. She was an understanding Peg, and she rose at once to the
+poetry of the idea. Gently, reverently, the girls lifted the basket
+which was to have furnished their own repast, laid it on the carved-oak
+chair, and laid on its lid the painted card; then for a moment they
+stood side by side, gazing round the room, seeing in imagination the
+scene which would follow the return of the family from church . . . the
+incredulity, the amaze, the blind mystification, the joy. . . . Peg beamed
+in anticipation of the delight of the youngsters; Margaret had the
+strangest, eeriest feeling of looking straight into a sweet, worn face;
+of feeling the clasp of work-worn hands. It was imagination, she told
+herself, simple imagination, yet the face was alive. . . . Its features
+seemed more distinct than many which she knew in the flesh. She shivered
+slightly, and drew her sister from the room.
+
+"Now, Peg, to cover up our tracks; to leave everything as we found it!
+This door was shut. . . . Have we moved anything from its place, left
+any footmarks on the floor? Be careful, dear, be careful! . . . Push
+that chair into place. . . ."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The tyre was repaired. The chauffeur was straightening his back after
+the long stoop. Jack and Tom were indignantly demanding what had been
+done with the hamper. Being hungry and unromantic, it took some little
+time to convince them that there had been no choice in the matter, and
+that the large family had a right to their luxuries which was not to be
+gainsaid. They had not seen the pitiful emptiness of the Christmas
+table; they had not seen the chair set ready for the Christ Child. The
+girls realised as much and dealt gently with them, and in the outcome no
+one felt the poorer; for the welcome bestowed upon the surprise party
+was untinged by any shadow of embarrassment, and they sat around a
+festal board, happy to feel that their presence was hailed as the
+culminating joy of the day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was evening when the car again approached the lonely house, and
+Margaret, speaking down the connecting tube, directed the chauffeur to
+drive at his slowest speed for the next quarter of a mile.
+
+Jack was lying back in his corner, absorbed in happy dreams. Never so
+long as he lived could he forget this Christmas Day, which had seen the
+fulfilment of his hopes in Myra's sweetness, Myra's troth. Tom was fast
+asleep, dreaming of "dorm." suppers, and other escapades of the last
+term. The two sisters were as much alone as if the only occupants of the
+car.
+
+They craned forward, eager for the first glimpse of the house, and
+caught sight of a beam of light athwart the darkness of the night.
+
+The house was all black save for one window, but that was as a
+lighthouse in a waste, for the curtains were undrawn, and fire and lamp
+sent out a rosy glow which seemed the embodiment of cheer.
+
+Against the white background of the wall a group of figures could be
+seen standing together beneath the lamp; the strains of a harmonium
+floated sweetly on the night air, a chorus of glad young voices singing
+the well-known words:
+
+          "The King of Love my Shepherd is!"
+
+With a common impulse the two girls waved their hands from the window as
+the car plunged forward.
+
+"Good-night, little sisters!"
+
+"Good-night, little brothers!"
+
+[Sidenote: How He comes]
+
+"Sleep well, little people. The Christ Child is with you. You asked Him,
+and He came----"
+
+"And the wonderful thing," said Peg, "the most wonderful thing is, that
+He came _through us_!"
+
+"But that," answered Margaret thoughtfully, "is just how He always
+_does_ come."
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: The story of a girl's adventure for a father's sake that may
+help girls who are at all like Anna.]
+
+Anna
+
+BY
+
+KATHARINE S. MACQUOID
+
+
+Three thousand feet up the side of a Swiss mountain a lateral valley
+strikes off in the direction of the heights that border the course of
+the Rhine on its way from Coire to Sargans. The closely-cropped,
+velvet-smooth turf, the abundant woods, sometimes of pine-trees and
+sometimes of beech and chestnut, give a smiling, park-like aspect to the
+broad green track, and suggest ideas of peace and plenty.
+
+As the path gradually ascends on its way to Fadara the wealth of wild
+flowers increases, and adds to the beauty of the scene.
+
+A few brown cow-stables are dotted about the flower-sprinkled meadows; a
+brook runs diagonally across the path, and some freshly-laid planks show
+that inhabitants are not far off; but there is not a living creature in
+sight. The grasshoppers keep up their perpetual chirrup, and if one
+looks among the flowers one can see the gleam of their scarlet wings as
+they jump; for the rest, the flowers and the birds have it all to
+themselves, and they sing their hymns and offer their incense in
+undisturbed solitude.
+
+When one has crossed the brook and climbed an upward slope into the
+meadow beyond it, one enters a thick fir-wood full of fragrant shadow;
+at the end is a bank, green and high, crowned by a hedge, and all at
+once the quiet of the place has fled.
+
+Such a variety of sounds come down the green bank! A cock is crowing
+loudly, and there is the bleat of a young calf; pigs are squeaking one
+against another, and in the midst of the din a dog begins to bark. At
+the farther corner, where the hedge retreats from its encroachments on
+the meadow, a grey house comes into view, with a signboard across its
+upper part announcing that here the tired traveller may get dinner and a
+bed.
+
+Before the cock has done crowing--and really he goes on so long that it
+is a wonder he is not hoarse--another voice mingles with the rest.
+
+It is a woman's voice, and, although neither hoarse nor shrill, it is no
+more musical than the crow of the other biped, who struts about on his
+widely-spread toes in the yard, to which Christina Fasch has come to
+feed the pigs. There are five of them, pink-nosed and yellow-coated, and
+they keep up a grunting and snarling chorus within their wooden
+enclosure, each struggling to oust a neighbour from his place near the
+trough while they all greedily await their food.
+
+[Sidenote: "Come, Anna!"]
+
+"Come, Anna, come," says the hard voice; "what a slow coach you are! I
+would do a thing three times over while you are thinking about it!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The farmyard was bordered by the tall hedge, and lay between it and the
+inn. The cow-house, on one side, was separated from the pigstyes by a
+big stack of yellow logs, and the farther corner of the inn was flanked
+by another stack of split wood, fronted by a pile of brushwood; above
+was a wooden balcony that ran also along the house-front, and was
+sheltered by the far-projecting eaves of the shingled roof.
+
+Only the upper part of the inn was built of logs, the rest was brick and
+plaster. The house looked neatly kept, the yard was less full of the
+stray wood and litter that is so usual in a Swiss farmyard, but there
+was a dull, severe air about the place. There was not a flower or a
+plant, either in the balcony or on the broad wooden shelves below the
+windows--not so much as a carnation or a marigold in the vegetable plot
+behind the house.
+
+A shed stood in the corner of this plot, and at the sound of Christina's
+call a girl came out of the shed; she was young and tall and
+strong-looking, but she did not beautify the scene.
+
+To begin with, she stooped; her rough, tangled hair covered her forehead
+and partly hid her eyes; her skin was red and tanned with exposure, and
+her rather wide lips drooped at the corners with an expression of misery
+that was almost grotesque. She carried a pail in each hand.
+
+"Do be quick!" Christina spoke impatiently as she saw her niece appear
+beyond the wood-stack.
+
+Anna started at the harsh voice as if a lash had fallen on her back; the
+pig's food splashed over her gown and filled her heavy leather shoes.
+
+"I had better have done it myself," cried her aunt. "See, unhappy child,
+you have wasted food and time also! Now you must go and clean your shoes
+and stockings; your gown and apron are only fit for the wash-tub! Ah!"
+
+She gave a deep sigh as she took up first one pail and then the other
+and emptied the wash into the pig-trough without spilling a drop by the
+way. Anna stood watching her admiringly.
+
+"Well!" Christina turned round on her. "I ask myself, what is the use of
+you, child? You are fifteen, and so far it seems to me that you are here
+only to make work for others! When do you mean to do things as other
+people do them? I ask myself, what would become of you if your father
+were a poor man, and you had to earn your living?"
+
+Anna had stooped yet more forward; she seemed to crouch as if she
+wanted to get out of sight. Christina suddenly stopped and looked at her
+for an answer. Anna fingered her splashed apron; she tried to speak, but
+a lump rose in her throat, and she could not see for the hot tears that
+would, against her will, rush to her eyes.
+
+"I shall never do anything well," she said at last, and the misery in
+her voice touched her aunt. "I used not to believe you, aunt, but now I
+see that you are right. I can never be needful to any one." Then she
+went on bitterly: "It would have been better if father had taken me up
+to the lake on Scesaplana when I was a baby and drowned me there as he
+drowned the puppies in the wash-tub."
+
+Christina looked shocked; there was a frown on her heavy face, which was
+usually as expressionless as if it had been carved in wood.
+
+[Sidenote: "Go, you unlucky child!"]
+
+"Fie!" she said. "Think of Gretchen's mother, old Barbara; she does not
+complain of the goitre; though she has to bear it under her chin, she
+tries to keep it out of sight. I wish you would do the same with your
+clumsiness. There, go and change your clothes, go, you unlucky child,
+go!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+You are perhaps wondering how it comes to pass that an inn can exist
+placed alone in the midst of green pasture-land, and only approached by
+a simple foot track, which more than once leads the wayfarer across mere
+plank bridges, and which passes, only at long intervals, small groups of
+cottages that call themselves villages. You naturally wonder how the
+guests at this lonely inn fare with regard to provisions. It is true
+that milk is sent down every day from the cows on the green Alps higher
+up the mountain, and that the farm boasts of plenty of ducks and fowls,
+of eggs and honey. There are a few sheep and goats, too; we have seen
+that there are pigs. Fraeulein Christina Fasch makes good bread, and she
+is famous for her delicate puddings and sauces; the puzzle is, whence
+come the groceries, and the extras, and the wines that are consumed in
+the inn?
+
+A mile or so beyond, on a lower spur of the mountain ridge that
+overlooks the Rhine, a gap comes in the hedge that screens an almost
+precipitous descent into the broad, flat valley. The descent looks more
+perilous than it is, for constant use has worn the slender track into a
+series of rough steps, which lead to the vine-clad knoll on which is
+situated Malans, and at Malans George Fasch, the landlord of our inn,
+can purchase all he needs, for it is near a station on the railway line
+between Zurich and Coire and close to the busy town of Mayenfeld in the
+valley below.
+
+Just now there are no visitors at the inn, so the landlord only makes
+his toilsome journey once a fortnight; but when there is a family in the
+house he visits the valley more frequently, for he cannot bring very
+large stores with him, although he does not spare himself fatigue, and
+he mounts the natural ladder with surprising rapidity, considering the
+load he carries strapped to his shoulders.
+
+The great joy of Anna was to meet her father at the top of the pass, and
+persuade him to lighten his burden by giving her some of it to carry;
+and to-day, when she had washed her face and hands, and had changed her
+clothes, she wished that he had gone to Malans; his coming back would
+have helped her to forget her disaster. Her aunt's words clung to the
+girl like burs; and now, as they rang in her ears again, she went into
+the wood to have her cry out, unobserved.
+
+She stood leaning against a tree; and, as the tears rolled over her
+face, she turned and hid it against the rough red bark of the pine. She
+was crying for the loss of the dear, gentle mother who had always helped
+her. Her mother had so screened her awkwardness from public notice that
+Anna had scarcely been aware of it. Her Aunt Christina had said, when
+she was summoned four years ago to manage her brother's household,
+"Your wife has ruined Anna, brother. I shall have hard work to improve
+her."
+
+Anna was not crying now about her aunt's constant fault-finding; there
+was something in her grief more bitter even than the tears she shed for
+her mother; it seemed to the girl that day by day she was becoming more
+and more clumsy and stupid; she broke the crockery, and even the
+furniture; she spoiled her frocks; and, worst of all, she had more than
+once met her father's kind blue eyes fixed on her with a look of sadness
+that went to her heart. Did he, too, think that she would never be
+useful to herself or to any one?
+
+At this thought her tears came more freely, and she pressed her hot face
+against the tree.
+
+"I wonder why I was made!" she sobbed.
+
+There came a sharp crackling sound, as the twigs and pine-needles
+snapped under a heavy tread.
+
+Anna caught up her white apron and vigorously rubbed her eyes; then she
+hurried out to the path from her shelter among the trees.
+
+In another minute her arms were round her father, and she was kissing
+him on both cheeks.
+
+[Sidenote: A Startling Face]
+
+George Fasch kissed her and patted her shoulder; then a suppressed sob
+caught his ear. He held Anna away from him, and looked at her face.
+
+It was red and green in streaks, and her eyes were red and inflamed. The
+father was startled by her appearance.
+
+"What is the matter, dear child?" he said. "You are ill."
+
+Then his eyes fell on her apron. Its crumpled state, and the red and
+green smears on it, showed the use to which it had been put, and he
+began to guess what had happened.
+
+Anna hung her head.
+
+"I was crying and I leaned against a tree. Oh, dear, it was a clean
+apron! Aunt will be vexed."
+
+Her father sighed, but he pitied her confusion.
+
+"Why did you cry, my child?" he said, half-tenderly, half in rebuke.
+"Aunt Christina means well, though she speaks abruptly."
+
+He only provoked fresh tears, but Anna tried so hard to keep them back
+that she was soon calm again.
+
+"I am not vexed with Aunt Christina for scolding me," she said; "I
+deserved it; I am sorry for myself."
+
+"Well, well," he said cheerfully, "we cannot expect old heads on young
+shoulders." His honest, sunburned face was slightly troubled as he
+looked at her. "You will have to brush up a bit, you know, when
+Christina goes to Zurich. You are going to be left in charge of the
+house for a week or so."
+
+Anna pressed her hands nervously together. She felt that the house would
+suffer greatly under her guidance; but then, she should have her father
+all to herself in her aunt's absence, and she should be freed from those
+scathing rebukes which made her feel all the more clumsy and helpless
+when they were uttered in her father's presence.
+
+George Fasch, however, had of late become very much aware of his
+daughter's awkwardness, and secretly he was troubled by the prospect of
+her aunt's absence. He was a kind man and an affectionate father, but he
+objected to Gretchen's unaided cookery, and he had therefore resolved to
+transact some long-deferred business in Zurich during his sister's stay
+there. This would lessen the number of his badly-cooked dinners at home.
+
+"I shall start with Christina," he said--"some one must go with her to
+Pardisla; and next day I shall come home by Malans, so you will have to
+meet me on Wednesday evening at the old place, eh, Anna?"
+
+She nodded and smiled, but she felt a little disappointed. She
+reflected, however, that she should have her father alone for some days
+after his return.
+
+Christina was surprised to see how cheerful the girl looked when she
+came indoors.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Rain fell incessantly for several days, and even when it ceased masses
+of white vapour rose up from the neighbouring valleys and blotted out
+everything. The vapour had lifted, however, when Fasch and his sister
+started on their expedition, and Anna, tired of her week's seclusion,
+set out on a ramble. A strange new feeling came over the girl as soon as
+she lost sight of her aunt's straight figure. She was free, there would
+be no one to scold her or to make her feel awkward; she vaulted with
+delight, and with an ease that surprised her, over the fence that parted
+the two meadows; she looked down at her skirt, and she saw with relief
+that she had not much frayed it, yet she knew there were thorns, for
+there had been an abundance of wild roses in the hedge.
+
+A lark was singing blithely overhead, and the grasshoppers filled the
+air with joyful chirpings. Anna's face beamed with content.
+
+"If life could be always like to-day!" she thought, "oh, how nice it
+would be!"
+
+[Sidenote: In the Marsh]
+
+Presently she reached the meadow with the brook running across it, and
+she gave a cry of delight; down in the marsh into which the brook ran
+across the sloping field she saw a mass of bright dark-blue. These were
+gentian-flowers, opening blue and green blossoms to the sunshine, and in
+front of them the meadow itself was white with a sprinkling of grass of
+Parnassus.
+
+Anna had a passionate love of flowers, and, utterly heedless of all but
+the joy of seeing them, she ran down the slope, and only stopped when
+she found herself ankle-deep in the marsh below, in which the gentian
+grew.
+
+This sobered her excitement. She pulled out one foot, and was shocked to
+find that she had left her shoe behind in the black slime; she was
+conscious, too, that her other foot was sinking deeper and deeper in the
+treacherous marsh. There was nothing to hold by, there was not even an
+osier near at hand; behind the gentian rose a thicket of rosy-blossomed
+willow-herb, and here and there was a creamy tassel of meadowsweet, but
+even these were some feet beyond her grasp.
+
+Anna looked round her in despair. From the next field came a clicking
+sound, and as she listened she guessed that old Andreas was busy mowing.
+
+He was old, but he was not deaf, and she could easily make him hear a
+cry for help; but she was afraid of Andreas. He kept the hotel garden in
+order, and if he found footmarks on the vegetable plots, or if anything
+went wrong with the plants, he always laid the blame on Anna; he was as
+neat as he was captious, and the girl shrank from letting him see the
+plight she was in.
+
+She stooped down and felt for her shoe, and as she recovered it she
+nearly fell full length into the bog; the struggle to keep her balance
+was fatal; her other foot sank several inches; it seemed to her that she
+must soon be sucked down by the horrible black water that spurted up
+from the marsh with her struggles.
+
+Without stopping to think, she cried out as loud as she could, "Help me,
+Andreas! Help! I am drowning!"
+
+At the cry the top of a straw hat appeared in sight, and its owner came
+up-hill--a small man, with twisted legs, in pale clay-coloured trousers,
+a black waistcoat, and brown linen shirtsleeves. His wrinkled face
+looked hot, and his hat was pushed to the back of his head. He took it
+off and wiped his face with his handkerchief while he looked round him.
+
+"Pouf!" He gave a grunt of displeasure. "So you are once more in
+mischief, are you? Ah, ah, ah! What, then, will the aunt, that ever to
+be respected Fraeulein, say, when she hears of this?"
+
+He called this out as he came leisurely across the strip of meadow that
+separated him from Anna.
+
+She was in an agony of fear lest she should sink still farther in before
+he reached her; but she knew Andreas far too well to urge him even by a
+word to greater haste. So she stood shivering and pale with fear while
+she clasped her bog-stained shoe close to her.
+
+Andreas had brought a stake with him, and he held this out to Anna, but
+when she tried to draw out her sinking foot she shook her head, it
+seemed to be stuck too fast in the bog.
+
+Andreas gave a growl of discontent, and then went slowly up to the plank
+bridge. With some effort he raised the smaller of the two planks and
+carried it to where Anna stood fixed like a statue among the flowering
+water-plants. Then he pushed the plank out till it rested on a hillock
+of rushes, while the other end remained on the meadow.
+
+"Ah!"--he drew a long breath--"see the trouble you give by your
+carelessness."
+
+He spoke vindictively, as if he would have liked to give her a good
+shaking; but Anna smiled at him, she was so thankful at the prospect of
+release.
+
+[Sidenote: Rescued]
+
+The mischievous little man kept her waiting some minutes. He pretended
+to test the safety of the plank by walking up and down it and trying it
+with his foot. At last, when the girl's heart had become sick with
+suspense, he suddenly stretched out both hands and pulled her on to the
+plank, then he pushed her along before him till she was on dry ground
+once more.
+
+"Oh, thank you, Andreas," she began, but he cut her thanks very short.
+
+"Go home at once and dry yourself," he said. "You are the plague of my
+life, and if I had been a wise man I should have left you in the marsh.
+Could not your senses tell you that all that rain meant danger in boggy
+places? There'll be mischief somewhere besides this; a landslip or two,
+more than likely. There, run home, child, or you'll get cold."
+
+He turned angrily away and went back to his work.
+
+Anna hurried to the narrowest part of the brook and jumped across it.
+She could not make herself in a worse plight than she was already; her
+skirts were dripping with the black and filthy water of the marsh.
+
+Heavy rain fell again during the night, and continued throughout the
+morning, but in the afternoon there was a glimpse of sunshine overhead.
+This soon drew the vapour up again from the valley, and white
+steam-clouds sailed slowly across the landscape.
+
+Gretchen had been very kind and compassionate about Anna's disaster; she
+made the girl go to bed for an hour or two, and gave her some hot broth,
+and Anna would have forgotten her trouble but for the certainty she felt
+that old Andreas would make as bad a story of it as he could to her Aunt
+Christina. But this morning the girl was looking forward to her father's
+home-coming, and she was in good spirits; she had tried to make herself
+extra neat, and to imitate as closely as she could her Aunt Christina's
+way of tidying the rooms; but one improvement suggested itself to Anna
+which would certainly not have occurred to her tidy aunt; if she had
+thought of it, she would have scouted the idea as useless, and a
+frivolous waste of time.
+
+Directly after the midday meal Anna went out to gather a wild-flower
+nosegay, to place in the sitting-room in honour of her father's return.
+It seemed to her the only means she had of showing him how glad she was
+to see him again.
+
+While she was busy gathering Andreas crossed the meadow; he did not see
+Anna stooping over the flowers, and she kept herself hidden; but the
+sight of him brought back a haunting fear. What was it? What had Andreas
+said that she had forgotten? He had said something which had startled
+her at the time, and which now came pressing urgently on her for
+remembrance, although she could not distinctly recall it.
+
+What was it? Anna stood asking herself; the flowers fell out of her hand
+on to the grass among their unplucked companions; she stood for some
+minutes absorbed in thought.
+
+Andreas had passed out of sight, and she could not venture to follow
+him, for she did not know what she wanted him to tell her.
+
+A raindrop fell on her hand, and she looked up. Yes, the rain had begun
+again. Anna gave a sudden start; she left the flowers and set off
+running towards the point at which she was accustomed to meet her
+father.
+
+With the raindrop the clue she had been seeking had come to her. Andreas
+had said there might very likely be landslips, and who could say that
+there might not have been one on the hillside above Malans? Anna had
+often heard her father say that, though he could climb the steep ascent
+with his burden, he should be sorry to have to go down with it. If the
+track had been partly carried away, he might begin to climb without any
+warning of the danger that lay before him. . . .
+
+Anna trembled and shivered as she thought of the danger. It would be
+growing dusk before her father began to climb, and who could say what
+might happen?
+
+She hurried on to the place at which she always met her father. When she
+had crossed the brook that parted the field with the gap from the field
+preceding it, Anna stood still in dismay. The hedge was gone, and so was
+a good strip of the field it had bordered.
+
+[Sidenote: A Landslip]
+
+There had already been a landslip.
+
+Anna had learned wisdom by her mischance yesterday, and she went on
+slowly and cautiously till she drew near the edge; then she knelt down
+on the grass, and, creeping along on her hands and knees, she peered
+over the broken, slippery edge. The landslip seemed to have reached
+midway down the cliff, but the rain had washed the earth and rubbish to
+one side.
+
+So far as Anna could make out, the way up, half-way, was as firm as
+ever; then there came a heap of debris from the fall of earth, and then
+the bare rock rose to the top, upright and dreadful.
+
+Anna's head turned dizzy as she looked down the precipice, and she
+forced herself to crawl backward from the crumbling edge only just in
+time, for it seemed to her that some mysterious power was beckoning her
+from below.
+
+When she got on her feet she stood and wondered what was to be done. How
+was she to warn her father of this danger?
+
+She looked at the sun; it was still high up in the sky, so she had some
+hours before her. There was no other way to Malans but this one, unless
+by going back half-way to Seewis, to where a path led down to Pardisla,
+and thence into the Landquart valley, where the high-road went on to
+Malans, past the corner where the Landquart falls into the Rhine. Anna
+had learned all this as a child from the big map which hung in the
+dining-room at the inn. But on the map it looked a long, long way to the
+Rhine valley, and she had heard her father tell her Aunt Christina that
+she must take the diligence at Pardisla; it would be too far, he said,
+to walk to Landquart, and Anna knew that Malans was farther still. She
+stood wondering what could be done.
+
+In these last four years she had become by degrees penetrated with a
+sense of her own utter uselessness, and she had gradually sunk into a
+melancholy condition. She did only what she was told to do, and she
+always expected to be told how to do it.
+
+Her first thought now was, how could she get help or advice? she knew
+only two people who could help her--Gretchen and Andreas. The last, she
+reflected, must be already at some distance. When she saw him, he was
+carrying a basket, and he had, no doubt, gone to Seewis, for it was
+market-day in that busy village. As to Gretchen, Anna felt puzzled.
+Gretchen never went from home; what could she know about time and the
+distance from the Rhine valley?
+
+Besides, while the girl stood thinking her sense of responsibility
+unfolded, the sense that comes to every rational creature in a moment
+that threatens danger to others; and she saw that by going back even to
+consult with Gretchen she must lose many precious minutes. There was no
+near road to the valley, but it would save a little to keep well behind
+the inn on her downward way to Pardisla.
+
+As Anna went along the day cleared again. The phantom-like mists drifted
+aside and showed on the opposite mountain's side brilliant green Alps in
+the fir-wood that reached almost to the top. The lark overhead sang
+louder, and the grasshopper's metallic chirp was incessant under foot.
+
+[Sidenote: Father must be Warned]
+
+Anna's heart became lighter as she hurried on; surely, she thought, she
+must reach Malans before her father had begun to climb the mountain. She
+knew that he would have left his knapsack at Mayenfeld, and that he must
+call there for it on his way home. Unless the landslip was quite recent
+it seemed to her possible that some one might be aware of what had
+happened, and might give her father warning; but Anna had seen that for
+a good way above Malans the upward path looked all right, and it was so
+perpendicular that she fancied the destruction of its upper portion
+might not have been at once discovered, especially if it had occurred at
+night. No, she was obliged to see that it was extremely doubtful whether
+her father would receive any warning unless she reached the foot of the
+descent before he did.
+
+So she went at her utmost speed down the steep stony track to Pardisla.
+New powers seemed to have come to her with the intensity of her
+suspense.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+George Fasch had every reason to be content with the way in which he had
+managed his business at Zurich; and yet, as he travelled back to
+Mayenfeld, he was in a desponding mood. All the way to Zurich his sister
+had talked about Anna. She said she had tried her utmost with the girl,
+and that she grew worse and worse.
+
+"She is reckless and thoroughly unreliable," she said, "and she gets
+more stupid every day. If you were wise you would put her into a
+reformatory."
+
+George Fasch shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"She is affectionate," he said bluntly, "and she is very unselfish. I
+should be sorry to send her from home."
+
+Christina held up her hands.
+
+"I call a girl selfish who gives so much trouble. Gretchen has to wash
+out three skirts a week for Anna. She is always spoiling her clothes. I,
+on the contrary, call her very selfish, brother."
+
+George Fasch shrugged his shoulders again; he remembered the red and
+green apron, and he supposed that Christina must be right; and now, as
+he travelled back alone, he asked himself what he must do. Certainly he
+saw no reason why he should place Anna in a reformatory--that would be,
+he thought, a sure way of making her unhappy, and perhaps even
+desperate; but Christina's words had shown him her unwillingness to be
+plagued with his daughter's ways, and he shrank from the idea of losing
+his useful housekeeper. He had been accustomed to depend on his sister
+for the management of the inn, and he felt that no paid housekeeper
+would be able to fill Christina's place. Besides, it would cost more
+money to pay a stranger.
+
+Yes, he must send Anna away, but he shrank from the idea. There was a
+timid, pathetic look in the girl's dark eyes that warned him against
+parting her from those she loved. After all, was she not very like her
+mother? and his sweet lost wife had often told George Fasch how dreamy
+and heedless and stupid she had been in childhood. He was sure that Anna
+would mend in time, if only he could hit on some middle course at
+present.
+
+The weather had been fine at Zurich; and he was surprised, when he
+quitted the train, to see the long wreaths of white vapour that floated
+along the valley and up the sides of the hill. It was clearer when he
+had crossed the river; but before he reached Malans evening was drawing
+in, and everything grew misty.
+
+He had made his purchases at Mayenfeld so as to avoid another stoppage;
+and, with his heavy load strapped on his back, he took a by-path that
+skirted Malans, and led him straight to the bottom of the descent
+without going through the village. There was a group of trees just at
+the foot of the path, which increased the gathering gloom.
+
+"My poor child will be tired of waiting," he thought, and he began to
+climb the steep ascent more rapidly than usual.
+
+All at once a faint cry reached him; he stopped and listened, but it did
+not come again.
+
+The way was very slippery, he thought; his feet seemed to be clogged
+with soft earth, and he stopped at last to breathe. Then he heard
+another cry, and the sound of footsteps behind him.
+
+Some one was following him up the dangerous ascent. And as his ears took
+in the sound he heard Anna's voice some way below.
+
+[Sidenote: "You cannot climb To-night!"]
+
+"Father! father! stop! stop!" she cried; "there is a landslip above; you
+cannot climb to-night."
+
+George Fasch stopped. He shut his eyes and opened them again. It seemed
+to him that he was dreaming. How came Anna to be at the foot of the pass
+if it was not possible to climb to the top of it?
+
+"What is it, Anna? Do you mean that I must come down again?" he said
+wonderingly.
+
+"Yes, yes; the path above is destroyed."
+
+And once more he wondered if all this could be real.
+
+"Father, can you come down with the pack, or will you unfasten it and
+leave it behind?"
+
+George Fasch thought a moment.
+
+"You must go down first," he said, "and keep on one side; the distance
+is short, and I think I can do it; but I may slip by the way."
+
+There were minutes of breathless suspense while Anna stood in the
+gathering darkness, and then the heavy footsteps ceased to descend, and
+she found herself suddenly hugged close in her father's arms.
+
+"My good girl," he said, "my good Anna, how did you come here?"
+
+Anna could not speak. She trembled like a leaf, and then she began to
+sob. The poor girl was completely exhausted by the terrible anxiety she
+had gone through, and by fatigue.
+
+"I thought I was too late," she sobbed; "it looked so dark. I feared you
+could not see; I cried out, but you did not answer. Oh, father!"--she
+caught at his arms--"if I had been really too late!"
+
+Her head sank on his shoulder.
+
+George Fasch patted her cheek. He was deeply moved, but he did not
+speak; he would hear by-and-by how it had all happened. Presently he
+said cheerfully:
+
+"Well, my girl, we must let Gretchen wonder what has happened to us
+to-night. You and I will get beds at Malans. My clever Anna has done
+enough for one day."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three years have passed since Anna's memorable journey. Her Aunt
+Christina has married, and she has gone to live in Zurich; Anna is now
+alone with her father and Gretchen. She has developed in all ways; that
+hurried journey to the foot of the mountain had been a mental tonic to
+the girl. She has learned to be self-reliant in a true way, and she has
+found out the truth of a very old proverb, which says, "No one knows
+what he can do till he tries."
+
+[Illustration: AT THE PICNIC: "I SHAN'T PLAY IF YOU FELLOWS ARE SO
+ROUGH!"]
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Mrs. Creighton (the widow of one of the most brilliant men
+who ever adorned the English episcopate) has herself been an ardent
+worker in literary and social fields. Her appeal to the girls of the
+Empire lays stress on the joy as well as the privilege of service.]
+
+To Girls of the Empire
+
+The Call to Service
+
+BY
+
+MRS. CREIGHTON
+
+
+There are those who speak of patriotism as selfish, and bid us cultivate
+a wider spirit, and think and work for the good of the whole world
+rather than for the good of our own country. It is true that there is a
+narrow and a selfish patriotism which blinds us to the good in other
+nations, which limits our aspirations and breeds a spirit of jealousy
+and self-assertion. The true patriotism leads us to love our country,
+and to work for it because we believe that God has given it a special
+mission, a special part to play in the development of His great purpose
+in the world, and that ours is the high privilege of helping it to
+fulfil that mission.
+
+At this moment there seems to come a special call to women to share in
+the work that we believe the British Empire is bidden to do for the good
+of the whole world. If we British people fail to rise to the great
+opportunity that lies before us, it will be because we love easy ways,
+and material comfort, and all the pleasant things that come to us so
+readily, because we have lost the spirit of enterprise, the capacity to
+do hard things, and are content with trying to get the best out of life
+for ourselves.
+
+We need to keep always a high ideal before us, and as civilisation
+increases and brings ever new possibilities of enjoyment, the
+maintenance of that high ideal becomes always more difficult. Nothing
+helps so much to keep us from low ideals as the conviction that life is
+a call from God to service, and that our truest happiness is to be found
+in using every gift, every capacity that we possess, for the good of
+others.
+
+Girls naturally look forward into life and wonder what it will bring
+them. Those will probably be the happiest who early in life are obliged
+or encouraged to prepare themselves for some definite work. But however
+this may be, they should all from the first realise the bigness of their
+position, and see themselves as citizens of a great country, with a
+great work to do for God in the world.
+
+It may be that they will be called to what seems the most natural work
+for women--to have homes of their own and to realise their citizenship
+as wives and mothers, doing surely the most important work that any
+citizen can fulfil. Or they may have either for a time or for life some
+definite work of their own to do. Everywhere the work of women is being
+increasingly called for in all departments of life, yet women do not
+always show the enterprise to embark on new lines or the energy to
+develop their capacities in such a way as to fit them to do the work
+that lies before them.
+
+It is so easy after schooldays are ended to enjoy all the pleasant
+things that lie around, to slip into what comes easiest, to wait for
+something to turn up, and so really to lose the fruits of past education
+because it is not carried into practice or used as a means for further
+development.
+
+This is the critical period of a girl's life. For a boy every one
+considers the choice of a definite profession imperative; for a girl,
+unless necessity compels it, the general idea is that it would be a pity
+for her to take to any work, let her at any rate wait a bit and enjoy
+herself, then probably something will turn up. This might be all very
+well if the waiting time were used for further education, for
+preparation for the work of life. But in too many cases studies begun at
+school are carried no further, habits of work are lost, and intellectual
+development comes to a standstill.
+
+We are seeing increasingly in every department of life how much depends
+upon the home and upon the training given by the mother, and yet it does
+not seem as if girls as a rule prepared themselves seriously for that
+high position. The mother should be the first, the chief religious
+teacher of her children, but most women are content to be vaguely
+religious themselves whilst hardly knowing what they themselves believe,
+and feeling perfectly incapable of teaching others.
+
+[Sidenote: How to Begin]
+
+Yet how are they to fulfil the call which will surely come to them to
+teach either their own children or those of others if they have not
+troubled to gain religious knowledge for themselves? The Bible, which
+becomes each day a more living book because of all the light thrown upon
+it by recent research, should be known and studied as the great central
+source of teaching on all that concerns the relations between God and
+man. But sometimes we are told that it is less well known now than
+formerly, when real knowledge of it was much more difficult.
+
+Women are said to be naturally more religious than men, but that natural
+religion will have all the stronger influence the more it is founded on
+knowledge, and so is able to stand alone, apart from the stimulus of
+beautiful services or inspiring preaching. Women who follow their
+husbands into the distant parts of the earth, and are called to be
+home-makers in new lands, may find themselves not only compelled to
+stand alone, but called upon to help to maintain the religious life in
+others. They will not be able to do this if, when they had the
+opportunity, they neglected to lay sure foundations for their own
+religious life.
+
+These thoughts may seem to lead us far away from the occupations and
+interests of girlhood; but they emphasise what is the important
+thing--the need to recognise the years of girlhood as years of
+preparation. This is not to take away from the joy of life. The more we
+learn to find joy in all the beauty of life, in books, in art, in
+nature, the more permanent sources of joy we are laying up for the
+future. We must not starve our natures; we should see that every part of
+ourselves is alive and vigorous.
+
+It is because so many women really hardly live at all that their lives
+seem so dull and colourless. They have never taken the trouble to
+develop great parts of themselves, and in consequence they do not notice
+all the beautiful and interesting things in the world around them. They
+have not learnt to use all their faculties, so they are unfit to do the
+work which they might do for the good of others.
+
+Many girls have dreams of the great things they would like to do. But
+they do not know how to begin, and so they are restless and
+discontented. The first thing to do is to train themselves, to do every
+little thing that comes along as well as they can, so as to fit
+themselves for the higher work that may come. It is worth while for them
+to go on with their studies, to train their minds to habits of accurate
+thought, to gain knowledge of all kinds, for all this may not only prove
+useful in the future, but will make them themselves better instruments
+for any work that may come to them to do. It is very worth while to
+learn to be punctual and orderly in little things, to gain business-like
+habits, even to keep accounts and to answer notes promptly--all these
+will be useful in the greater business of life. We must be tried in
+little things before we can be worthy to do big things.
+
+Meanwhile doors are always opening to us whilst we are young, only very
+often we do not think it worth while to go in at the open door because
+it strikes us as dull or unimportant and not the great opportunity that
+we hoped for. But those who go in at the door that opens, that take up
+the dull little job that offers, and do it as well as they can, will
+find, first that it is not so dull as they thought, and then that it
+leads on to something else, and new doors open, and interests grow
+wider, and more important work is offered. Those who will not go in, but
+choose to wait till some more interesting or inviting door opens, will
+find that opportunities grow fewer, that doors are closed instead of
+opened, and life grows narrower instead of wider.
+
+[Sidenote: All the Difference]
+
+It is of course the motive that inspires us that makes all the
+difference. To have once realised life, not as an opportunity for
+self-pleasing, but as an opportunity for service, makes us willing to do
+the small tasks gladly, that they may fit us for the higher tasks. It
+would seem as if to us now came with ever-increasing clearness the call
+to realise more truly throughout the world the great message that Christ
+proclaimed of the brotherhood of men. It is this sense of brotherhood
+that stirs us to make the conditions of life sweet and wholesome for
+every child in our own land, that rouses us to think of the needs of
+those who have never heard the Christian message of love. As we feel
+what it means to know God as our Father, we learn to see all men as our
+brothers, and hence to hear the call to serve them.
+
+It is not necessary to go far to answer this call; brothers and sisters
+who need our love and help are round our doors, even under our own roof
+at home; this sense of brotherhood must be felt with all those with whom
+we come in contact. To some may come the call to realise what it means
+to recognise our brotherhood with peoples of other race and other
+beliefs. Even within our own Empire there are, especially in India,
+countless multitudes waiting for the truth of the gospel to bring light
+and hope into their lives. Do we feel as we should the call that comes
+to us from our sisters the women of India? They are needing teachers,
+doctors, nurses, help that only other women can bring them. Is it not
+worth while for those who are looking out into life, wondering what it
+will mean to them, to consider whether the call may not come to them to
+give themselves to the service of their sisters in the East?
+
+But however this may be, make yourselves ready to hear whatever call may
+come. There is some service wanted from you; to give that service will
+be your greatest blessing, your deepest joy. Whether you are able to
+give that service worthily will depend upon the use you make of the time
+of waiting and preparation. It must be done, not for your own
+gratification, but because you are the followers of One who came, "not
+to be ministered unto, but to minister."
+
+[Illustration: "THE SON OF MAN CAME NOT TO BE MINISTERED UNTO, BUT TO
+MINISTER."]
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A very singular adventure befell two young people, who
+entertained a stranger unawares.]
+
+My Dangerous Maniac
+
+BY
+
+LESLIE M. OYLER
+
+
+It was a glorious July morning, the kind of morning that makes you feel
+how good it is to be alive and young--and, incidently, to hope that the
+tennis-courts won't be too dry.
+
+You see Gerald, my brother, and I were invited to an American tournament
+for that afternoon, which we were both awfully keen about; then mother
+and father were coming home in the evening, after having been away a
+fortnight, and, though on the whole I had got on quite nicely with the
+housekeeping, it _would_ be a relief to be able to consult mother again.
+Things have a knack of not going so smoothly when mothers are away, as I
+daresay you've noticed.
+
+I had been busy making strawberry jam, which had turned out very well,
+all except the last lot. Gerald called me to see his new ferret just
+after I had put the sugar in, and, by the time I got back, the jam had,
+most disagreeably, got burnt.
+
+That's just the way with cooking. You stand and watch a thing for ages,
+waiting for it to boil; but immediately you go out of the room it
+becomes hysterical and boils all over the stove; so it is borne in on
+me that you must "keep your eye on the ball," otherwise the saucepan,
+when cooking.
+
+However, when things are a success it feels quite worth the trouble.
+Gerald insisted on "helping" me once, rather against cook's wish, and
+made some really delicious meringues, only he _would_ eat them before
+they were properly baked!
+
+The gong rang, and I ran down to breakfast; Gerald was late, as usual,
+but he came at last.
+
+"Here's a letter from Jack," I remarked, passing it across; "see what he
+says."
+
+Jack was one of our oldest friends; he went to school with Gerald, and
+they were then both at Oxford together. He had always spent his holidays
+with us as he had no mother, and his father, who was a most brilliant
+scholar, lived in India, engaged in research work; but this vac. Mr.
+Marriott was in England, and Jack and he were coming to stay with us the
+following day.
+
+[Illustration: GERALD LOOKED PUZZLED.]
+
+Gerald read the letter through twice, and then looked puzzled.
+
+"Which day were they invited for, Margaret?" he asked.
+
+"To-morrow, of course, the 13th."
+
+"Well, they're coming this evening by the 7.2."
+
+I looked over his shoulder; it _was_ the 12th undoubtedly. "And mother
+and father aren't coming till the 9.30," I sighed; "I wish they were
+going to be here in time for dinner to entertain Mr. Marriott; he's sure
+to be eccentric--clever people always are."
+
+"Yes," agreed Gerald, "he'll talk miles above our heads; but never mind,
+there'll be old Jack."
+
+Cook and I next discussed the menu. I rather thought curry should figure
+in it, as Mr. Marriott came from India; but cook overruled me, saying it
+was "such nasty hot stuff for this weather, and English curry wouldn't
+be like Indian curry either."
+
+When everything was in readiness for our guests Gerald and I went to
+the Prescotts', who were giving the tournament.
+
+We had some splendid games, and Gerald was still playing in an exciting
+match when I found that the Marriotts' train was nearly due. Of course
+he couldn't leave off, so I said that I would meet them and take them
+home; we only lived about a quarter of a mile from the station, and
+generally walked.
+
+I couldn't find my racquet for some time, and consequently had a race
+with the train, which luckily ended in a dead heat, for I reached the
+platform just as it steamed in.
+
+The few passengers quickly dispersed, but there was no sign of Jack; a
+tall, elderly man, wrapped in a thick overcoat, in spite of the hot
+evening, stood forlornly alone. I was just wondering if he could be
+Jack's father when he came up to me and said, "Are you Margaret?"
+
+"Yes," I answered.
+
+"I have often heard my boy speak of you," he said, looking extremely
+miserable.
+
+[Sidenote: Jack does not Come]
+
+"But isn't he coming?" I cried.
+
+He replied "No" in such a hopeless voice and sighed so heavily that I
+was beginning to feel positively depressed, when he changed the subject
+by informing me that his bag had been left behind but was coming on by a
+later train, so, giving instructions for it to be sent up directly it
+arrived, I piloted him out of the station.
+
+I had expected him to be eccentric, but he certainly was the oddest man
+I had ever met; he seemed perfectly obsessed by the loss of his bag, and
+would talk of nothing else, though I was longing to know why Jack hadn't
+come. The absence of his dress clothes seemed to worry him intensely. In
+vain I told him that we need not change for dinner; he said he must, and
+wouldn't be comforted.
+
+"How is Jack?" I asked at last; "why didn't he come with you?"
+
+He looked at me for a moment with an expression of the deepest grief,
+and then said quietly, "Jack is dead."
+
+"_Dead?_" I almost shouted. "Jack dead! You can't mean it!"
+
+But he only repeated sadly, "Jack is dead," and walked on.
+
+It seemed incredible; Jack, whom we had seen a few weeks before so full
+of life and vigour, Jack, who had ridden with us, played tennis, and
+been the leading spirit at our rat hunts, it was too horrible to think
+of!
+
+I felt quite stunned, but the sight of the poor old man who had lost his
+only child roused me.
+
+"I am more sorry than I can say," I ventured; "it must be a terrible
+blow to you."
+
+"Thank you," he said; "you, who knew him well, can realise it more than
+any one; but it was all for the best--I felt that when I did it."
+
+"Did what?" I inquired, thinking that he was straying from the point.
+
+"When I shot him through the head," he replied laconically, as if it
+were the most natural thing in the world.
+
+If he had suddenly pointed a pistol at _my_ head I could not have been
+more astonished; I was absolutely petrified with horror, for the thought
+flashed into my brain that Jack's father must be mad!
+
+His peculiar expression had aroused my curiosity at the station, and his
+next remark confirmed my suspicion.
+
+"You see, he showed unmistakable symptoms of going mad----"
+
+(I had heard that madmen invariably think every one around them is mad,
+and that they themselves are sane.)
+
+"----so I felt it my duty to shoot him; it was all over in a moment."
+
+"Poor Jack!" I cried involuntarily.
+
+"Yes," he answered, "but I should do just the same again if the occasion
+arose."
+
+And he looked at me fixedly.
+
+I felt horribly frightened. Did he think I was mad? And I fell to
+wondering, when he put his hand in his pocket, whether he had the
+revolver there. We had reached our garden gate by this time, where, to
+my infinite relief, we were joined by Gerald, flushed and triumphant
+after winning his match.
+
+After an agonised aside "Don't ask about Jack," I murmured an
+introduction, and we all walked up to the house together. In the hall I
+managed to tell Gerald of our dreadful position, and implored him to
+humour the madman as much as possible until we could form some plan for
+his capture.
+
+"We'll give him dinner just as if nothing has happened, and after that
+I'll arrange something," said Gerald hopefully; "don't you worry."
+
+[Sidenote: A Knife Trick]
+
+Never shall I forget that dinner! We were on tenterhooks the whole time,
+and it made me shudder to see how Mr. Marriott caressed the knives. I
+could scarcely prevent myself screaming when he held one up, and,
+feeling the blade carefully with his finger, said:
+
+"I rather thought of doing this little trick to-night, if you would like
+it; it is very convincing and doesn't take long."
+
+I remembered his remark, "it was all over in a moment," and trembled;
+but Gerald tactfully drew his attention to something else, and dinner
+proceeded peaceably; but he had a horrible fondness for that knife, and,
+when dessert was put on the table, kept it in his hand, "to show us the
+trick afterwards."
+
+I stayed in the dining-room when we had finished; I couldn't bear to
+leave Gerald, and he and I exchanged apprehensive glances when Mr.
+Marriott refused to smoke, giving as his reason that he wanted a steady
+hand for his work later.
+
+He worried ceaselessly about his bag (I began to think the revolver must
+be there), and when, at last, it came he almost ran into the hall to
+open it.
+
+Then Gerald had a brilliant inspiration. Seizing the bag, he carried it
+up to his room, which was at the top of the house. Mr. Marriott eagerly
+followed, and when he was safely in we shut the door and bolted it
+securely on the outside.
+
+"That was a good move, Gerald," I cried, heaving a sigh of relief, "we
+can keep him there till mother and father come home; they can't be very
+long now; perhaps he won't notice he's locked in for some time."
+
+But unfortunately he _did_ notice, for very soon we heard him rattling
+the door handle, and when no one came (for we had had to explain matters
+to the maids, whereat they had all rushed, panic-stricken, to the
+servants' hall), he started banging and shouting louder than ever.
+
+It was an awful time for us; every minute I expected him to burst the
+door open and come tearing downstairs. Gerald wanted to go up and try to
+pacify him, but I told him I was too frightened to be left, which, I
+knew, was the only way of preventing him.
+
+We walked down the garden to see if mother and father were in sight, and
+then----
+
+"Awfully sorry we missed the train," said a cheerful voice, and _Jack_,
+followed by another figure, came through the gate!
+
+"You aren't dead then?" was all I could manage to gasp.
+
+"No, rather not! Very much alive. Here's the pater; but first, tell me,
+why should I be dead?"
+
+Gerald and I began to speak simultaneously, and in the midst of our
+explanations mother and father arrived, so we had to tell them all over
+again.
+
+"The question is, who _is_ your lunatic?" said father, "and----"
+
+But just at that moment we heard frantic shouts from Gerald's bedroom
+window, and found the sham Mr. Marriott leaning out of it in a state of
+frenzy.
+
+He was absolutely furious; but we gathered from his incoherent remarks
+that he was getting very late for a conjuring performance which he had
+promised to give at a friend's house. He vowed that there was some
+conspiracy to prevent him going there at all; first his bag was lost,
+then some one pretended to be his friend's daughter, whom he had never
+seen, and finally he was locked in a room with no means of escape!
+
+[Sidenote: Our Little Mistake]
+
+Then, and only then, did we realise our mistake! The others seemed to
+find it very amusing and shrieked with laughter, but the humour of it
+didn't strike Gerald and me any more than it did the irate conjuror, who
+was promptly released with profuse apologies, and sent in our car to his
+destination. It transpired that his conversation which had so alarmed me
+referred only to a favourite dog of his, and I, of course, had
+unconsciously misled Gerald.
+
+Mr. Marriott proved to be most interesting and amusing, anything but
+eccentric; but I shall _never_ hear the last of my mistake, and to this
+day he and Jack tease me unmercifully about my "dangerous maniac!"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A story of the Canadian North-West Mounted Police, founded on
+fact.]
+
+Jim Rattray, Trooper
+
+BY
+
+KELSO B. JOHNSON
+
+
+"Our Lady of the Snows" resents the title. It is so liable, she
+complains, to give strangers an utterly wrong idea of her climate. And
+yet, at times, when the blizzard piles the swirling snow over fence and
+hollow, until boundaries are lost, and the bewildered wayfarer knows not
+which way to turn, he is apt to think, if he is in a condition to think
+at all, that there is some justice in the description.
+
+But there was no sign of the stern side of nature as Jim Rattray made
+his way westward. The sun shone on the wide, rolling plains, the fresh
+green of the pasture lands, and the young wheat; the blue sky covered
+all with a dome of heaven's own blue, and Jim's heart rejoiced within
+him.
+
+A strapping young fellow was Jim, not long out from the Old Country--the
+sort of young fellow whose bright eyes and fresh open face do one good
+to look at. North-country farming in England was the life to which he
+had looked forward; vigorous sports and hard work in the keen air of the
+Cumberland fells had knit his frame and hardened his muscles; and his
+parents, as they noticed with pride their boy's sturdy limbs, and
+listened in wonder to the bits of learning he brought home from school,
+had looked forward half-unconsciously to the days when he in his turn
+would be master of the farm which Rattrays had held for generations.
+
+Bad days, however, had come for English farmers; the Cumbrian farm had
+to be given up, and Jim's father never recovered from the shock of
+having to leave it. Within a few years Jim was an orphan, alone in the
+world.
+
+[Sidenote: The Great New World]
+
+There was nothing to keep him in England; why should he not try his
+fortune in the great new world beyond the seas, which was crying out for
+stout hearts and hands to develop its treasures? He was young and
+strong: Canada was a land of great possibilities. There was room and a
+chance for all there. His life was before him--what might he not
+achieve!
+
+"What do you propose doing?" asked a fellow-voyager as they landed.
+
+"I really don't quite know," replied Jim. "As soon as possible I must
+get employment on a farm, I suppose, but I hardly know how to set about
+it."
+
+"There won't be much difficulty about that. All you have to do is to let
+it be known at the bureau that you want farm work, and you'll find
+plenty of farmers willing to take you--and glad to get you," he added,
+as his eyes roved over Jim's stalwart figure. "But have you thought of
+the police?"
+
+"The police? No--what have I done?"
+
+His friend laughed.
+
+"I mean the North-West Mounted Police. Why don't you try to join it? If
+they'll take you, you'll take to the life like a duck to water. You
+could join, if you liked, for a short term of years; you would roam
+about over hundreds of miles of country, and get a general knowledge of
+it such as you could hardly get otherwise; then, if you'd like to settle
+down to farming or ranching, the information you had picked up would be
+useful."
+
+Jim pondered over the advice, and finally resolved to follow it. He
+hoped to make his way in the world, and the more knowledge he could gain
+the better.
+
+A few days later saw him on his way westward, his heart bounding with
+the exhilarating beauty of the scene. Already the life at home seemed
+cramped; the wideness and freedom of this great new country intoxicated
+him.
+
+"Do we want a recruit? No, we don't!" said the sergeant at Regina, to
+whom Jim applied. "Stay a bit, though; you needn't be in such a hurry.
+Just out from the Old Country, I suppose. Do you know anything about
+horses? Can you ride?"
+
+"Yes," said Jim humbly.
+
+"Let's try you," and the sergeant led the way into the riding-school.
+"We call this one 'Brown Billy,'" he remarked, indicating a
+quiet-looking horse. "Think you can sit on him?"
+
+"I'll try," said Jim.
+
+Riding Brown Billy seemed ridiculously easy at first. Suddenly, however,
+without the slightest warning, Jim found himself gripping with his knees
+the sides of an animal that was dancing wildly on its hind legs.
+
+Jim caught a grin on the faces of the sergeant and some of the other
+bystanders, and setting his teeth he held on grimly. This was evidently
+a favourite trick of Brown Billy's, and the sergeant knew it. Well, they
+should see that British grit was not to be beaten.
+
+Seemingly conquered, Brown Billy dropped again on all-fours. Scarcely
+had Jim begun to congratulate himself on his victory when Billy's head
+went down between his forelegs, his hind-quarters rose, and Jim was
+neatly deposited on hands and knees a few feet ahead.
+
+The grins were noticeably broader as Jim rose, crimson with vexation.
+
+"Thought you could sit him, eh?" laughed the sergeant. "Well, you kept
+on longer than some I've seen, and you didn't try to hug him around the
+neck, either. You're not the first old Billy has played that trick on,
+by a long way. You'll make a rider yet! Come along and let us see what
+else you can do."
+
+[Sidenote: Enrolled]
+
+As a result of the searching examination Jim underwent he found himself
+enrolled as a recruit. He was glad to find that there were among his new
+companions others who had fallen victims to Brown Billy's wiles, and who
+in consequence thought none the worse of him for his adventure.
+
+Into the work that followed Jim threw himself with all his might. Never
+had instructors a more willing pupil, and it was a proud day for Jim
+when he was passed out of the training-school as a qualified trooper.
+
+Jim found himself one of an exceedingly small party located apparently a
+hundred miles from anywhere. Their nearest neighbours were a tribe of
+Indians, whose mixture of childishness and cunning shrewdness made them
+an interesting study. These gave little trouble; they had more or less
+accepted the fact that the white man was now in possession of the
+domains of their forefathers, and that their best course was to behave
+themselves. When the presence of the police was required, Jim was almost
+amused at the docility with which his directions were generally obeyed.
+
+He delighted in the life--the long rides, the occasional camping out on
+the plains far from any dwelling, the knowledge that he must rely upon
+himself. He felt more of a man; his powers of endurance increased until
+he took a positive pleasure in exercising them to their fullest possible
+extent. Meanwhile, nothing more exciting happened than the tracking and
+capture of an occasional horse-thief.
+
+Winter set in early and hard. Snow fell until it lay feet deep, and
+still the stormy winds brought more. One day the sergeant came in with a
+troubled face.
+
+"Wightman's horses have stampeded," he announced. "They'll be gone coons
+if they're not rounded up and brought in."
+
+"Let me go, sergeant!" said Jim.
+
+The sergeant shook his head. "It's no work for a young hand. The oldest
+might lose his bearings in weather like this."
+
+"Let me go, sergeant!" Jim repeated. "If those horses are to be brought
+in I can do it." There was a world of pleading in his tone, and the
+sergeant guessed the reason.
+
+"I meant no reflection on you, my lad," said he. "It's no weather for
+anybody to be out in. All the same, if those horses aren't to be a dead
+loss, somebody's got to round them up."
+
+Finally Jim got his way. In a temporary lull about midday he set out on
+his stout horse, well wrapped up in the thick woollen garments provided
+for such times as these, and determined to bring in those horses, or
+perish in the attempt.
+
+"They went off sou'-west," shouted the sergeant. "I should----" A
+furious blast as the gale recommenced carried away whatever else he
+might have said, and Jim was alone with his good horse on the prairie.
+
+There was no hesitancy in his mind. South-west he would push as hard as
+he could go. The animals had probably not gone far; he must soon come up
+with them, and the sooner the better.
+
+Gallantly his steed stepped out through the deepening snowdrifts. Fain
+would the sensible animal have turned and made his way back to his
+stable, but Jim's credit was at stake, and no turning back was allowed.
+Mile after mile was covered; where could those animals be in this storm?
+
+Ha! a sudden furious rush of wind brought Jim's horse nearly to its
+knees. How the gale roared, and how the snow drove in his face! Up and
+on again, south-west after those horses!
+
+But which _was_ the south-west? The daylight had completely faded; not a
+gleam showed where the sun had set. Jim felt for his pocket-compass; it
+was gone! The wind, blowing apparently from every quarter in
+succession, was no guide at all. Nothing was visible more than a yard
+away; nothing within that distance but driving snowflakes. Any tracks of
+the runaways would be covered up in a few moments; in any case there was
+no light to discern them.
+
+[Sidenote: Lost!]
+
+However, it was of no use to stand still. By pressing on he might
+overtake his quarry, and after fright had driven them away, instinct
+might lead them home. That was now the only chance of safety. Would he
+ever find them?
+
+Deeper and deeper sank his horse into the snow; harder and harder it
+became to raise its hoofs clear for the next step. Snorting with fear,
+and trembling in every limb, the gallant beast struggled on. He _must_
+go on! To stop would be fatal. Benumbed as he was by the intense cold,
+bewildered by the storm, with hand and voice Jim cheered on his steed,
+and nobly it responded.
+
+Suddenly it sank under him. A hollow, treacherously concealed by the
+snow, had received them both into its chilly depths.
+
+"Up again, old boy!" cried Jim, springing from the saddle, and tugging
+at the rein, sinking to the waist in the soft snow as he did so. "Now
+then, one more try!"
+
+The faithful horse struggled desperately to respond to the words. But
+its strength was spent; its utmost exertions would not suffice to
+extricate it. The soft snow gave way under its hoofs; deeper and deeper
+it sank. With a despairing scream it made a last futile effort, then it
+stretched its neck along the snow, and with a sob lay down to die.
+Further efforts to move it would be thrown away, and Jim knew it. In a
+few minutes it would be wrapped in its winding-sheet.
+
+With a lump in his throat Jim turned away--whither? His own powers had
+nearly ebbed out. Of what use was it to battle further against the gale,
+when he knew not in which direction to go?
+
+With a sharp setting of the teeth he set himself to stimulate into
+activity his benumbed faculties. Where was he? What was he doing there?
+Ah, yes, he was after those stampeded horses. Well, he would never come
+up with them now. He had done his best, and he had failed.
+
+Taking out his notebook, as well as his benumbed powers would let him,
+Jim scrawled a few words in the darkness. The powers of nature had been
+too strong for him. What was a man to set himself against that tempest?
+
+But stay! there was One stronger than the gale. Man was beyond hearing,
+but was not God everywhere? Now, if ever, was the time to call upon Him.
+
+No words would come but the familiar "Our Father," which Jim had said
+every night for longer than he could remember. He had no power to think
+out any other petition. "Our Father," he muttered drowsily, "which art
+in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done. . . ."
+
+The murmur ceased; the speaker was asleep.
+
+They found him a few days later, when the snow had ceased to fall, and
+the wind swept over the prairie, stripping off the deadly white
+covering, and leaving the khaki jacket a conspicuous object. The
+sergeant saw it, and pointed--he could not trust his voice to speak.
+Eagerly the little band bent over the body of their comrade.
+
+"Why, he's smiling! And see here! he's been writing something in his
+notebook. What is it?"
+
+Reverently they took the book from the brown hand, and the sergeant read
+the words aloud:
+
+"Lost, horse dead. Am trying to push on. Have done my best."
+
+"That he did. There was good stuff in him, lads, and perhaps he was
+wanted up aloft!"
+
+A solemn hush held the party. "'I did my best,'" said a trooper softly
+at length. "Ah, well, it'll be a good job for all of us, if when our
+time comes we can say that with as much truth as he!"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Mary sacrificed herself to help another. The renunciation in
+time brought reward.]
+
+Mary's Stepping Aside
+
+BY
+
+EDITH C. KENYON
+
+
+"How very foolish of you! So unbusinesslike!" cried Mrs. Croft angrily.
+
+"I could not do anything else, Hetty. Poor Ethel is worse off than we
+are. She has her widowed mother to help; they are all so poor, and it
+was such a struggle for Mrs. Forrest to pay that L160 for Ethel's two
+years' training in the Physical Culture College. You know, when Ethel
+and I entered for training, there was a good demand for teachers of
+physical culture, but now, alas! the supply exceeds the demand, and it
+has been such a great trouble to Ethel that she could not get a post,
+and begin to repay her mother for the outlay. She failed every time she
+tried to secure an appointment; the luck seemed always against her. And
+now she was next to me, and I had only to step aside to enable her to
+receive the appointment."
+
+"And you did so! That is just like you, Mary. You will never get on in
+the world. What will people say? They are already wondering why my
+clever sister is not more successful."
+
+"Does it really matter what people think?" questioned Mary, and there
+was a far-away look in her blue eyes, as she glanced through the window
+at the wide stretch of moorland to be seen from it.
+
+She had been to London to try to secure an appointment as teacher of
+physical culture at a large ladies' college. There were several
+applicants for the appointment, which was worth L100 a year and board
+and lodging, not bad for a commencement, and she was successful.
+
+The lady principal came out to tell her so, and mentioned that Ethel
+Forrest, her college friend, was the next to her, adding that the latter
+appeared to be a remarkably nice girl and very capable. In a moment, as
+Mary realised how terrible poor Ethel's disappointment would be, she
+resolved to step aside in order that her friend might have the
+appointment.
+
+The lady principal was surprised, and a little offended, but forthwith
+gave Ethel Forrest the post, and Mary was more than repaid by Ethel's
+unbounded gratitude.
+
+"I can't tell you what it is to me to obtain this good appointment," she
+said, when they came away together. "Poor mother will now cease to
+deplore the money she could so ill afford to spend on my training. You
+see, it seemed as if she had robbed the younger children for me, and
+that it was money thrown away when she could so ill spare it, but now I
+shall repay her as soon as possible out of my salary, and the children
+will have a chance."
+
+"Yes, I know. That is why I did it," Mary said. "And I am happy in your
+happiness, Ethel darling."
+
+"But I am afraid it is rather irksome for you, living so long with your
+sister and brother-in-law, although they are so well off," Ethel
+remarked, after a while.
+
+"That is a small matter in comparison," Mary said lightly. "And I am so
+happy about you, Ethel, your mother will be so pleased."
+
+It seemed to Mary afterwards, when she left Ethel and went by express to
+York, where she took a slow train to the little station on the moors
+near her sister's home, that her heart was as light and happy as if she
+had received a great gift instead of surrendering an advantage. Truly
+it is more blessed to give than to receive, for there is no joy so pure
+as "the joy of doing kindnesse."
+
+But on her arrival at the house which had been her home since her
+parents died, she found herself being severely blamed for what she had
+done.
+
+In vain Mary reminded her sister that she was not exactly poor, and
+certainly not dependent upon her. Their father had left a very moderate
+income to both his daughters, Hetty the elder, who had married Dr.
+Croft, a country practitioner, and Mary, who, as a sensible modern young
+woman, determined to have a vocation, and go in for the up-to-date work
+of teaching physical culture.
+
+Finding she could make no impression upon her sister, Mrs. Croft
+privately exhorted her husband to speak to Mary about the disputed
+point.
+
+That evening, therefore, after dinner, as they sat round the fire
+chatting, the doctor remarked: "But you know, Mary, it won't do to step
+aside for others to get before you in the battle of life. You owe a duty
+to yourself and--and your friends."
+
+"I am quite aware of that," Mary replied, "but this was such an
+exceptional case. Ethel Forrest is so poor, and----"
+
+[Sidenote: "Each for Himself!"]
+
+"Yes, yes. But, my dear girl, it is each for himself in this world."
+
+"Is it?" Mary asked, and again there was a wistful, far-away look in her
+blue eyes. With an effort, she pulled herself together, and went on
+softly: "Shall I tell you what I saw as I returned home across the moor
+from the station? The day was nearly over, and the clouds were gathering
+overhead. The wind was rising and falling as it swept across the
+moorland. The rich purple of the heather had gone, and was succeeded by
+dull brown--sometimes almost grey--each little floret of the ling, as
+Ruskin said, folding itself into a cross as it was dying. Poor little
+purply-pink petals! They had had their day, they had had their fill of
+sunshine, they had been breathed on by the soft breezes of a genial
+summer, and now all the brightness for them was over; they folded their
+petals, becoming just like a cross as they silently died away. You see,"
+she looked up with a smile, "even the heather knows that the way of
+self-sacrifice is the only way that is worth while."
+
+There was silence for a few minutes. The crimson light from the shaded
+candles fell softly on Mary's face, beautiful in its sincerity and sweet
+wistfulness.
+
+The doctor shook his head. "I should never have got on in life if I had
+acted in that way," he said.
+
+"You are quite too sentimental, Mary," remarked her sister harshly.
+"Why, the world would not go on if we all did as you do. All the same,"
+she added, almost grudgingly, "you are welcome to stay here till you get
+another appointment."
+
+Mary rose and kissed her. "You shan't regret it, Hetty," she said. "I
+will try to help you all I can while I stay, but I may soon get another
+appointment."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fifteen months afterwards there was great rejoicing in Mrs. Forrest's
+small and overcrowded house in Croydon, because her youngest brother had
+returned from New Zealand with quite a large fortune, which he declared
+gallantly that he was going to share with her.
+
+"Half shall be settled on you and your children, Margaret," he said, "as
+soon as the lawyers can fix it up. You will be able to send your boys to
+Oxford, and give your girls dowries. By the by, how is my old favourite
+Ethel? And what is she doing?"
+
+"She teaches physical culture in a large ladies' college in the West
+End. It is a good appointment. Her salary has been raised; it is now
+L130, with board and lodging."
+
+That did not seem much to the wealthy colonial, but he smiled. "And how
+did she get the post?" he said. "I remember in one of your letters you
+complained that her education had cost a lot, and that she was very
+unlucky about getting anything to do."
+
+[Sidenote: Uncle Max]
+
+"Yes, it was so, Max. But she owed her success at last to the kindness
+of a friend of hers, who won this appointment, and then stepped aside
+for her to have it."
+
+"Grand!" cried Max Vernon heartily. "What a good friend that was! It is
+a real pleasure to hear of such self-sacrifice in this hard, work-a-day
+world. I should like to know that young woman," he continued. "What is
+she doing now?"
+
+"I don't know," replied his sister. "But here comes Ethel. She will tell
+you."
+
+Ethel had come over from the college on purpose to see her uncle, and
+was delighted to welcome him home. He was not more than ten years older
+than herself, there being more than that between him and her mother. His
+success in New Zealand was partly owing to his charming personality,
+which caused him to win the love of his first employer, who adopted him
+as his son and heir some six years before he died, leaving all his money
+to him. Ethel had pleasant memories of her uncle's kindness to her when
+a child.
+
+When hearty greetings had been exchanged between the uncle and niece,
+Margaret Forrest said to her daughter: "I have been telling your uncle
+about your friend Mary Oliver's giving up that appointment for you, and
+he wants to know where she is now, and what she is doing."
+
+"Ah, poor Mary!" said Ethel ruefully. "I am really very troubled about
+her. Her sister and brother-in-law lost all their money through that
+recent bank failure, and Dr. Croft took it badly. His losses seemed to
+harden him. Declaring that he could not carry on his practice in the
+country without capital, he sold it and arranged to go to New Zealand,
+though his wife had fallen into ill-health and could not possibly
+accompany him. He went abroad, leaving her in London in wretched
+lodgings. Then Mary gave up her good situation as teacher of physical
+culture in a private school, and took a less remunerative appointment so
+that she might live with her poor sister, and look after her, especially
+at nights. I believe there is a lot of night nursing. It's awfully hard
+and wearing for Mary, but she does it all so willingly, I believe she
+positively enjoys it, though I cannot help being anxious lest her health
+should break down."
+
+"She must not be allowed to do double work like that," said the
+colonial. "No one can work by day and night as well without breaking
+down."
+
+"But what is she to do?" queried Ethel. "She is obliged to earn money
+for their maintenance."
+
+"We might put a little in her way," suggested Vernon.
+
+Ethel shook her head. "She is very sweet," she said, "but I fancy she
+would not like to accept money as a gift."
+
+Max Vernon assented. "Exactly," he said, "I know the sort. But she could
+not object to take it if it were her right."
+
+Margaret Forrest smiled, scenting a romance. "I will have her here to
+tea on her next half-holiday," she said; "then you will see her."
+
+But Vernon could not wait till then. He and Ethel made up a plan that
+they would go to Mrs. Croft's rooms that very evening, in order that he
+might personally thank Mary for her goodness to his niece.
+
+Mary thought she had never seen such a kind, strong face as his, when he
+stood before her expressing his gratitude for what she had done for
+Ethel, and also his sympathy with her troubles, of which Ethel had told
+him.
+
+That was the beginning, and afterwards he was often in her home,
+bringing gifts for the querulous invalid, and, better still, hope for
+the future of her husband, about whom he interested a friend of his, who
+was doing well out in New Zealand, and looking out for a partner with
+some knowledge of medicine.
+
+[Illustration: IT WAS UNDER A NOBLE TREE THAT MAX ASKED MARY TO MARRY
+HIM.]
+
+It was at a picnic, under a noble tree, that Max asked Mary to marry
+him, and learned to his great joy how fully his love was returned.
+
+Mary thought there was no one like him. So many had come to her for
+help, but only he came to give with both hands, esteeming all he gave as
+nothing if only he could win her smile and her approval.
+
+So it happened that by the time Mrs. Croft had so far recovered as to be
+able to join her husband, her departure was delayed one week, in order
+that she might be present at her sister's wedding.
+
+[Sidenote: Not so Foolish after all!]
+
+"After all, Mary," she said, when at last she was saying goodbye, "your
+happiness has come to you as a direct result of your kindness to Ethel
+Forrest in stepping aside for her to have that appointment. You were
+therefore not so foolish after all."
+
+Mary laughed joyously. "I never thought I was," she said. "There's an
+old-fashioned saying, you know, that 'it is more blessed to give than to
+receive.'"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: How a plucky girl averted a terrible danger from marauding
+Redskins.]
+
+A Race for Life
+
+BY
+
+LUCIE E. JACKSON
+
+
+The McArthurs were fortunate people. Everybody said that Mr. McArthur
+must have been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, for
+though he had come to Tulaska with barely a red cent in his pocket,
+everything he attempted succeeded. His land increased, his cattle
+increased, his home grew in proportion to his land, his wife was a
+perfect manager, and his only child was noted for her beauty and daring.
+
+A tall, graceful girl was Rosalind McArthur, with her mother's fine skin
+and Irish blue eyes, her father's strength of mind and fearless bearing.
+At nineteen years of age she could ride as straight as any man, could
+paddle her canoe as swiftly as any Indian, and could shoot as well as
+any settler in the land.
+
+Added to all this, McArthur was a good neighbour, a kind friend, a
+genial companion, and a succourer of those in need of help. Thus when it
+became reported that the Indians had been making a raid upon a small
+settlement on the borders, and it was likely their next incursion would
+be directed against McArthur's clearing, the owners of small holdings
+declared their intention to stand shoulder to shoulder, and fight, if
+need be, for their more prosperous neighbour.
+
+"I think it must have been a false report. Here have we been waiting,
+gun in hand, for the last two months, and not a sign of a Redskin's
+tomahawk have we seen," said Rosalind cheerfully, as she and her parents
+rose from their evening meal.
+
+"Thank God if it be so," returned her mother.
+
+"We'll not slacken our vigilance, however," was McArthur's answer.
+
+At that instant a rapping at the house door was heard, and McArthur
+rose.
+
+"It must be Frank Robertson. He'll probably want a shake-down, wife."
+
+"He can have it if he wants it," was Mrs. McArthur's cordial answer.
+
+"Many thanks, but he won't trespass on your hospitality," said the
+new-comer, a tall, handsome young settler, entering as he spoke. "No,
+McArthur, I cannot stay. I have come but for five minutes on my way back
+to the village."
+
+"You can at least sit down," said McArthur, pulling forward a chair.
+"What is the latest news?"
+
+"Nothing, beyond the report that the Indians appear to have shifted
+themselves elsewhere."
+
+"Well, that is news," said Rosalind, looking up with a smile.
+
+"You say, 'appear to have shifted themselves,'" said McArthur. "I shall
+still keep on the defensive. I wouldn't trust a Redskin for a good
+deal."
+
+"True enough," was the answer. "McArthur, whom could you send to the
+village for need at a critical time?"
+
+"I doubt if I could spare a man. Every hand would be wanted, every rifle
+needed, for I know not in what numbers the Redskins might come."
+
+[Sidenote: "I could go!"]
+
+"I could ride to the village," announced Rosalind calmly. "Golightly and
+I would cover the ground in no time."
+
+"You, my darling!" Mrs. McArthur ejaculated in horror.
+
+McArthur waved his daughter's words aside.
+
+"You do not know, my child, what danger you would court."
+
+"Of course, Miss McArthur is out of the question," said the young man,
+and smiled as Rosalind darted an indignant glance at him.
+
+"At any rate, I am at your service if you need me," he continued. "I
+trust I may not be called out for such a purpose, but if I am, I and my
+rifle are at your disposal."
+
+"Thanks, Robertson, you are a good fellow," returned McArthur heartily,
+grasping the young man's hand.
+
+In a few minutes he rose to go. Rosalind accompanied him to the house
+door.
+
+"Mr. Robertson," she said abruptly, as soon as they were out of hearing,
+"which would be the shortest cut to the village? By the woods or by the
+river?" He looked keenly at her.
+
+"You meant what you said just now?"
+
+"Of course I meant it. I--I would do anything to save my father's and
+mother's lives, and their property, which father has secured by dint of
+so much labour."
+
+He took her hand in his.
+
+"Rosalind," he said softly, "if anything happened to you, my life would
+be of no worth to me."
+
+She flushed all over her fair skin.
+
+"It is better to be prepared for an emergency," she answered gently,
+"and I do not think I would run such a great risk as you and my father
+think."
+
+"You do not know the Redskin," was the grave answer.
+
+"You heard my father say he couldn't spare a man. How much more use I
+would be if I brought help than stayed here and perhaps shot a couple of
+Indians, who might overpower us by their numbers. I was wondering if
+Golightly and the woods would be a shorter way than my canoe and the
+river?"
+
+He had both her hands in his, and was looking down into her eyes.
+
+"The woods and Golightly would be the swiftest way to communicate with
+us in the village."
+
+"Then if need be I shall do it."
+
+"Take the right-hand track straight through the wood, and God protect
+you, Rosalind. My house will be the first one you will come to. Let me
+be the first to spring to your aid. No man will step into the stirrup
+with greater alacrity than I. But, please God, there may be no need for
+you to go."
+
+He lifted her hands to his lips and was gone.
+
+Two days passed and nothing of moment happened. But on the evening of
+the third, two men in McArthur's employ entered the house breathless
+with excitement. Feathertop--an Indian chief noted for the number of
+scalps which adorned his person--had been seen in the vicinity of the
+small settlement.
+
+McArthur, with a grim fixedness of countenance, saw to the priming of
+his rifle for the fiftieth time; and Rosalind, with her father's
+courage, examined her own weapon, which she had resolved to take with
+her for safety if Golightly had to be requisitioned.
+
+"Rosalind, those chaps will be on us to-night or to-morrow morning."
+
+It was McArthur who spoke, and Rosalind knew that her own misgivings had
+taken root also within her father's mind.
+
+"Because of Feathertop?" she asked bravely.
+
+"Yes. He is never lurking about unless he means business."
+
+"Could David and Jim have been misinformed?"
+
+"I don't think so."
+
+"Then, father, I shall ride to the village."
+
+[Sidenote: Rosalind's Resolve]
+
+McArthur looked at his daughter. He saw her face, he saw her figure.
+Both were alive with determination and courage.
+
+"Rosalind, you will kill your mother if you attempt to do such a
+thing."
+
+"Don't tell her unless you are obliged. It is to save her that I do it.
+Give her a rifle--keep her employed--let her think I am with some of the
+neighbours. Father, we do not know if we shall be outnumbered. If we
+are, what will happen? All your cattle will go--your whole property will
+be ruined, and, worse than all put together, we shall probably lose our
+lives in a horrible manner."
+
+"I acknowledge all that you say, but one of the men must go. You with
+your rifle can take his place, and do just as much execution as he
+can----"
+
+David put his head in at the door.
+
+"We've brought all the live-stock as close to the house as possible. Jim
+has been stealing round the plantation by the river, and says he has
+distinctly seen three Redskins on the other side of the river. We must
+be prepared for an attack this evening."
+
+"David, can you get me Golightly without attracting attention? I am
+going to ride him at once to the village."
+
+"Mercy on us!" exclaimed David. "Is there no one but you to do that?"
+
+"No. You and all the rest must defend my father and mother. I shall keep
+on this side of the river, and will go through the wood. If I go at once
+I may prevent an attack. David, every minute is of value. Fetch me
+Golightly. Father, I am not of such importance as the men here, but I
+can ride, and I can defend myself with my rifle if need be."
+
+"Then God go with you, my child."
+
+Only McArthur, and David, and the moon saw Rosalind spring to her seat
+on Golightly's back. Only the moon saw her with flushed cheeks and
+beating heart riding for life through the trees of the forest. If only
+she could get clear of the first two or three miles, she was safe to
+reach her destination in time.
+
+The track was clearly discernible except when the swiftly-flying clouds
+obscured the moon's light. The soughing of the wind in the tree-tops,
+together with the soft springy turf, helped to somewhat deaden the
+sound of Golightly's hoofs. The good horse scented danger in the air and
+in the tone of his mistress's voice, and with true instinct galloped
+through the wood, conscious of the caressing finger-tips which ever and
+anon silently encouraged him.
+
+"Bang!"
+
+It was unexpected, and Golightly sprang into the air, only to gallop on
+again like lightning. Rosalind's heart was going pretty fast now. She
+could see two or three dark forms gliding serpent-like through the
+trees, but Golightly's rapid progress baulked their aim. Ah, there are
+some figures in advance of her! Courage, Rosalind, courage! Her rifle is
+ready.
+
+"Golightly, dear Golightly, save us both," she whispers. And Golightly
+tosses up his head with a little whinny of comprehension, and, bracing
+up every nerve, prepares for a rush through that ominous path blocked as
+it is by two dark figures.
+
+[Sidenote: Rosalind's Rifle speaks]
+
+"Bang!"
+
+It is Rosalind's rifle this time, and a scream, shrill and piercing,
+rends the air. One form drops like a stone right across the path. But
+there is another to dispose of. His rifle is raised. Either Golightly or
+his mistress will receive the contents of that barrel. But Rosalind's
+hand never wavers as she points at that upraised arm.
+
+"Bang!"
+
+"Bang!"
+
+The two shots resound almost simultaneously, but Rosalind's is first by
+half a second. Again a scream rends the air, and yet another, coming
+this time from the rear. Rosalind's palpitating heart prevents her from
+glancing about to learn the cause. She knows she has shot the Indian in
+the right arm, but she does not know, and will never know, that her
+opportune shot has saved herself and her steed from being fired at from
+behind as well as in front. For when the Indian's arm was struck, it
+directed the contents of his rifle away from the point he aimed at. He
+shot half a second after Rosalind's fire, and killed his chief
+Feathertop, who was lurking in the background, grinning horribly at his
+good fortune in taking aim at the back of the paleface and her flying
+steed.
+
+Over the body of the dead Indian Golightly springs, paying no heed to
+the savage Redskin who stands aside from the trampling hoofs with his
+right arm hanging broken at his side. He is helpless, but he may yet do
+damage to Rosalind's cause. She lifts her rifle in passing him, and aims
+once more at his retreating form. He springs into the air, and, without
+a groan or cry, meets his death.
+
+Rosalind has cleared her path from further danger. Ride swiftly though
+she does, no lurking forms are seen, no gliding figures block her way.
+But the danger she has gone through has taken all her strength from her.
+She leans her cheek on Golightly's sympathetic head and sobs out her
+gratitude to him.
+
+When a foam-flecked steed dashed up to the first house in the village
+there was great commotion. Frank Robertson, with his mother and sisters,
+rushed out to find a white-faced Rosalind, spent and nearly fainting,
+sitting limply on Golightly's back. She had no words to explain her
+presence. She could only look at them with lack-lustre eyes. But
+Golightly turned his head as the young man lifted her gently off, and
+his eloquent eyes said as plainly as any words could say--
+
+"Deal gently with her; she has gone through more than you will ever
+know, and has played her part bravely."
+
+His comfort was looked after in as great degree as was Rosalind's. For
+while Rosalind lay on a couch, faint but smiling, and listening to the
+praises which the women-folk showered upon her, Golightly was stabled
+and rubbed down by two of Robertson's hired men, and caressed and given
+a good feed of corn with as many admiring words thrown in as ever his
+mistress had.
+
+No time was lost in collecting a good body of mounted men, and away they
+rode with Frank Robertson at their head, arriving in good time to save
+McArthur's home and family from savage destruction by the Redskins.
+
+[Sidenote: Their Last Visit]
+
+With the knowledge that their chief Feathertop was killed, the Indians'
+enthusiasm cooled, and those who could saved their lives by flying to
+their homes in the mountains. McArthur was never again troubled by a
+visit from them, and lived to rejoice in the marriage of his brave
+daughter to Frank Robertson.
+
+The young couple settled within a couple of miles of McArthur's
+homestead, and as each anniversary of Rosalind's ride came round, it was
+a familiar sight to see old McArthur standing up amongst the great
+gathering of friends to praise the brave girl who jeopardised her life
+that moonlight night to save the lives and property of those dearest to
+her.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Mittie's love of self might have led on to a tragedy. Happily
+the issue was of quite another kind.]
+
+Which of the Two?
+
+BY
+
+AGNES GIBERNE
+
+
+"It's going to be a glorious day--just glorious! Joan, we must do
+something--not sit moping indoors from morning till night!"
+
+Mittie never did sit indoors from morning till night; but this was a
+figure of speech.
+
+"I'm all alive to be off--I don't care where. Oh, do think of a plan!
+It's the sort of weather that makes one frantic to be away--to have
+something happen. Don't you feel so?"
+
+She looked longingly through the bow-window, across the small, neat
+lawn, divided by low shrubs from a quiet road, not far beyond which lay
+the river. The sisters were at breakfast together in the morning-room,
+which was bathed in an early flood of sunshine.
+
+Three years before this date they had been left orphaned and destitute,
+and had come to their grandmother's home--a comfortable and charming
+little country house, and, in their circumstances, a very haven of
+refuge, but, still, a trifle dull for two young girls. Mittie often
+complained of its monotony. Joan, eighteen months the elder, realised
+how different their condition would have been had they not been welcomed
+here. But she, too, was conscious of dulness, for she was only
+eighteen.
+
+[Sidenote: "Think of Something!"]
+
+"Such sunshine! It's just _ordering_ us to be out. Joan, be sensible,
+and think of something we can do--something jolly, something new! Just
+for one day can't we leave everything and have a bit of fun? I'm aching
+for a little fun! Oh, do get out of the jog-trot for once! Don't be
+humdrum!"
+
+"Am I humdrum?" Joan asked. She was not usually counted so attractive as
+the fluffy-haired, lively Mittie, but she looked very pretty at this
+moment. The early post had come in; and as she read the one note which
+fell to her share a bright colour, not often seen there, flushed her
+cheeks, and a sweet half-glad half-anxious expression stole into her
+eyes.
+
+"Awfully humdrum, you dear old thing! You always were, you know. How is
+Grannie to-day?" Mittie seldom troubled herself to see the old lady
+before breakfast, but left such attentions to Joan.
+
+"She doesn't seem very well, and she is rather--depressed. I'm afraid we
+couldn't possibly both leave her for the whole day--could we?" There was
+a touch of troubled hesitation in the manner, and Joan sent a quick
+inquiring glance at the other's face.
+
+"No chance of that. We never do leave her for a whole day; and if we did
+we should never hear the end of it. But we might surely be off after
+breakfast, and take our lunch, and come back in time for tea. She might
+put up with that, I do think. Oh dear me! Why can't old people remember
+that once upon a time they were young, and didn't like to be tied up
+tight? But, I suppose, in those days nobody minded. I know I mind
+now--awfully! I'm just crazy to be off on a spree. What shall we do,
+Joan? Think of something."
+
+"Mittie, dear----"
+
+"That's right. You've got a notion. Have it out!"
+
+"It isn't--what you think. I have something else to say. A note has come
+from Mrs. Ferris."
+
+"Well--what then?"
+
+"She wants me--us--to go to her for the day."
+
+Mittie clapped her hands.
+
+"Us! Both of us, do you mean? How lovely! I didn't know she was aware of
+my existence. Oh, yes, of course, I've seen her lots of times, but she
+always seems to think I'm a child still. She never asked me there before
+for a whole day. How are we to go? Will she send for us?"
+
+"Yes, but--but, Mittie--we can't both leave Grannie all those hours. She
+would be so hurt."
+
+"So cross, you mean. You don't expect _me_ to stay behind, I hope!
+_Me_--to spend a long endless day here, poking in Grannie's bedroom, and
+picking up her stitches, and being scolded for every mortal thing I do
+and don't do, while you are off on a lovely jaunt! Not I! You're very
+much mistaken if that is what you expect. Will Mrs. Ferris send the
+carriage or the motor?"
+
+"She is sending the boat. And her son----"
+
+"What! is he going to row us? That nice fellow! He rows splendidly, I
+know. I shall get him to let me take an oar. It's as easy as anything,
+going down the stream. Oh, we must do it, Joan--we really, really
+_must_! Grannie will have to put up for once with being alone. Is he
+coming by himself?"
+
+"Yes--no--I mean, he will drop his sister Mary at The Laurels and come
+on for us, and then take her up as we go back."
+
+"The Laurels? Oh, just a few minutes off. Mary--she's the eldest. When
+does he come? Eleven o'clock! No time to waste. We must put on our new
+frocks. You had better tell Grannie at once that we are going. I shall
+keep out of her way. You'll manage her best."
+
+"But if she doesn't like to be left?"
+
+"Then she'll have to do without the liking! Yes, I know what you mean,
+Joan. You want me to stay here, and set you free. And I'm not going to
+do it. I simply won't--won't--won't! It's no earthly use your trying to
+make me. I'm asked too, and I mean to go."
+
+"Mittie, you've not seen the note yet. I think you ought to read it. She
+asks me first--and then she just says, would I like to bring----?"
+
+"It doesn't matter, and I don't want to see! It's enough that I'm
+invited." Mittie had a quick temper, apt to flare out suddenly. She
+jumped up, and flounced towards the door. "I shall get ready; and you'd
+better make haste, or you'll be late."
+
+"And if I find that I can't be spared as well as you?"
+
+Joan's eyes went to Mittie, with a look of grieved appeal. That look
+went home; and for a moment--only one moment--Mittie wavered. She knew
+how much more this meant to Joan than it could mean to herself. She knew
+that she had no right to put herself first, to snatch the joy from Joan.
+But the habit of self-indulgence was too strong.
+
+[Sidenote: "It is all Nonsense!"]
+
+"If you choose to stay at home, I shall go without you. It is all
+nonsense about 'can't'! You can go if you like."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Joan remained alone, thinking.
+
+What could she say? Mittie, the spoilt younger sister, always had had
+her own way, and always insisted on having it. She would insist now, and
+would have it, as usual.
+
+That Mittie would go was indeed a foregone conclusion, and Joan had
+known it from the first. The question was--could she go too? Would it be
+right to leave the old lady, depressed and suffering, all those
+hours--just for her own pleasure, even though it meant much more than
+mere pleasure?
+
+The girls owed a great deal to Mrs. Wills. She was not rich, though she
+had a comfortable little home; and when she took in the two
+granddaughters, it meant a heavy pull on her purse. It meant, also,
+parting with a valued companion--a paid companion--whom she had had for
+years, and on whom she very much depended. This necessary step was
+taken, with the understanding that the two girls would do all in their
+power to supply her place. And Joan had done her best. Mittie seldom
+gave any thought to the matter.
+
+In a general way, Joan would at once have agreed that Mittie should be
+the one to go, that she herself would be the one to stay behind.
+
+But this was no ordinary case. In the summer before she had seen a good
+deal of Fred Ferris. He had been at home for three months after an
+accident, which, for the time, disabled him from work; and he had been
+unmistakably attracted by Joan. Not only had he made many an opportunity
+to see her, but his mother had taken pains to bring the two together.
+She liked Joan, and made no secret of the fact. Mittie had often been
+left out of these arrangements, and had resented it.
+
+For a good while Fred Ferris had been away from home; but Joan knew that
+he was likely to come soon, and she built upon the hope. She had given
+her heart to Fred, and she indulged in many a secret dream for the
+future while pursuing her little round of daily duties, and bearing
+patiently with the spoilt and wayward Mittie.
+
+And now--this had come!--this intimation of Fred's arrival, and the
+chance of a long delightful day with him--a day on which so much might
+hang!
+
+And yet, if Mittie insisted on going, it would probably mean that she
+would have to give it up. That would be hard to bear--all the harder
+because Mittie knew at least something of the true state of affairs. She
+knew how persistently Fred Ferris had come after her sister, and she
+must at least conjecture a little of what her sister felt for Fred.
+Nobody knew all that Joan felt, except Joan herself; but Mittie had seen
+quite enough to have made her act kindly and unselfishly.
+
+Joan's hopes had grown faint when she left the breakfast-table and went
+upstairs.
+
+Mrs. Wills spent most of her time in her bedroom, sometimes hobbling
+across to a small sitting-room on the same floor. She was too infirm to
+come downstairs.
+
+"Eh? What is it? I don't understand!"
+
+The old lady was growing deaf, and when she objected to what was being
+said, she would become doubly deaf. Like her younger granddaughter, she
+had always been accustomed to getting her own way.
+
+[Sidenote: "Your Turn now!"]
+
+"You want to do--what?" as Joan tried to explain. "I wish you would
+speak more clearly, my dear, and not put your lips together when you
+talk. Mrs. Ferris! Yes, of course I know Mrs. Ferris. I knew her long
+before _you_ came here. She wants you for the day? Well, one of you can
+go, and the other must stay with me. You've got to take turns. That is
+only reasonable. Mittie went last time, so it is your turn now."
+
+But Mittie never cared about turns.
+
+"I suppose you couldn't for once--just once, Grannie, dear--spare us
+both together?"
+
+Joan said this with such a sinking of heart that, had the old lady known
+it, she would surely have yielded. A sick fear had come over the girl
+lest Fred might think that she was staying away on purpose--because she
+did not want to see him. But she only looked rather white, and smiled as
+usual.
+
+"Spare you both! What!--leave me alone the whole day, both of you!" The
+old lady was scandalised. "I didn't think before that you were a selfish
+girl, Joan. Well, well, never mind!--you're not generally, I know. But
+of course it is out of the question, so lame as I am--not able to get
+anything that I want. That wasn't in the bargain at all, when we settled
+that you should live with me."
+
+Joan knew that it was not. But it was very hard to bear!
+
+She went to Mittie, and made one more attempt in that direction, ending,
+as she expected, unsuccessfully.
+
+"It really is my turn, you know, Mittie, dear."
+
+"Your turn? What! because I went to that silly tea last week? As if the
+two things could be compared!"
+
+Mittie ran to the glass to inspect herself.
+
+"Why didn't you just tell Grannie that you meant to do it, instead of
+asking whether she could spare you? So absurd! She would have given in
+then."
+
+Joan might have answered, "Because I have some sense of duty!" But she
+said nothing--it was so useless.
+
+She debated whether to write a note for Mittie to take, and then decided
+that she would run down to the river-edge and would explain to Fred
+Ferris himself why she might not go, not implying any blame to her
+sister, but just saying that she could not leave her grandmother.
+
+The thought of this cheered her up, for surely he would understand.
+
+But a few minutes before the time fixed for his arrival a message
+summoned her to the old lady, and she found that for a good half-hour
+she would be unable to get away. All she could do was to rush to Mittie
+and to give a hurried message--which she felt far from certain would be
+correctly delivered.
+
+Then for a moment she stood outside Mrs. Wills's room, choking back the
+sobs which swelled in her throat, and feeling very sad and hopeless at
+the thought of all she would miss, still more at the thought that her
+absence might be misunderstood.
+
+From the window, as she attended to her grandmother's wants, she had a
+glimpse of Mittie, running gaily down the garden, in her pretty white
+frock, carrying an open Japanese parasol in one hand, while from the
+other dangled her hat and a small basket of flowers.
+
+"Oh, Mittie, I wouldn't have done it to you--if you had cared as I do!"
+she breathed.
+
+When Mittie reached the stream, Ferris had that moment arrived.
+
+He had made fast the painter, intending to run up to the house, and had
+stepped back into the boat to put the cushions right.
+
+A straight well-built young fellow, he looked eagerly up at the sound of
+steps; and when Mittie appeared alone, a momentary look of surprise
+came. But, of course Joan would follow!
+
+Mittie wore her prettiest expression. She dropped her hat into the boat,
+and he took her parasol, holding out a hand to help, as she evidently
+meant to occupy her seat without delay.
+
+[Illustration: "YOUR SISTER IS COMING?" HE SAID.]
+
+[Sidenote: "Your Sister is Coming?"]
+
+"Your sister is coming?" he said.
+
+"She doesn't like to leave Grannie. So you'll have to do with me alone,"
+smiled Mittie. "Such a pity, this splendid day! I did my best to
+persuade her--but she wouldn't be persuaded."
+
+There was an abrupt pause. Even Mittie's self-complacency could not veil
+from her his changed face, his blank disappointment.
+
+In that moment she very fully realised the truth that Joan, and not
+herself, was the one really wanted. But she smiled on resolutely,
+careless of what Fred might think about Joan's motives, and bent on
+making a good impression.
+
+"It's the first time I've been to your house--oh, for months and months!
+I'm _so_ looking forward to a whole day there. And being rowed down the
+river is so awfully delightful. I did try my hardest to get Joan to
+come, too; but she simply wouldn't, and she asked me to explain."
+
+This only made matters worse. Fred could hardly avoid believing that
+Joan's absence was due to a wish to avoid him. In Mittie's mind lay a
+scarcely acknowledged fear that, if she were more explicit, Fred might
+insist on seeing Joan; and, in that event, that she might herself be in
+the end the one left behind. She was determined to have her day of fun.
+
+Ferris had grown suddenly grave. He made Mittie comfortable in her seat,
+cast loose, and took the oars; but he seemed to have little to say.
+
+Almost in complete silence they went to The Laurels. Mittie's repeated
+attempts at conversation died, each in succession, a natural death.
+
+When Mary Ferris appeared, surprise was again shown at the sight of
+Mittie alone. Mary Ferris did not take it so quietly as her brother had
+done. She was naturally blunt, and she put one or two awkward questions
+which Mittie found it not easy to evade.
+
+The hour on that lovely river, to which she had looked forward as
+delightful, proved dull.
+
+Fred Ferris had nothing to say; he could not get over this seeming snub
+from Joan. He attended silently to his oars, and somehow Mittie had not
+courage to suggest that she would very much like to handle one of them.
+Mary was politely kind, and talked in an intermittent fashion; but the
+"fun" on which Mittie had counted was non-existent.
+
+When they reached the landing-place and stepped out Mrs. Ferris stood on
+the bank, awaiting them. And Mrs. Ferris, though able, when she chose,
+to make herself extremely charming, was a very outspoken lady.
+
+There was no mistake about her astonishment. Her eyebrows went up, and
+her eyes ran questioningly over the white-frocked figure.
+
+"What, only Mittie! How is this? Where is Joan?"
+
+Mittie felt rather small, but she was not going to admit that she had
+been in the wrong.
+
+"Joan wouldn't come," she said, smiling.
+
+"Is she not well?"
+
+"Oh yes; quite well. I did try to persuade her--but she wouldn't."
+
+The mother and daughter exchanged glances. Fred was already walking
+away, and Mary remarked:
+
+"Joan always thinks first of other people. I dare say she felt that she
+could not leave Mrs. Wills."
+
+Mittie, conscious of implied blame, grew pink and eager to defend
+herself.
+
+"She could have come--perfectly well! There wasn't the _least_ reason
+why she shouldn't. Grannie was all right. Joan simply--simply wouldn't!"
+Mittie stopped, knowing that she had conveyed a false impression, but
+pride withheld her from modifying the words. "I told her she might--just
+as well."
+
+Mrs. Ferris began to move towards the house. "It is a great pity," she
+said. "We all counted on having Joan. However, it cannot be helped now.
+I hope you will enjoy yourself, my dear. Mary will show you over the
+garden and the house."
+
+To Mary she added: "The old castle must wait for another time, I
+think--when Joan is here."
+
+Mittie cast a questioning look, and Mary said, in explanation: "Only an
+old ruin a few miles off. We meant to have an excursion there this
+afternoon."
+
+Mittie loved excursions, and could not resist saying so. No notice was
+taken of this appeal; but somewhat later she overheard a murmured remark
+from Mrs. Ferris to Mary.
+
+[Sidenote: "Certainly not--now!"]
+
+"No, certainly not--now. Fred will not care to go. He is very much
+disappointed, poor boy! If only one could be sure that it means
+nothing!" But Mittie was not meant to hear this.
+
+They were very kind to her, and she really had nothing to complain of on
+the score of inattention. Mary, who happened to be the only daughter at
+home, took her in charge and put her through a steady course of gardens,
+glasshouses, family pets, and old furniture--for none of which Mittie
+cared a rap. What she had wanted was a gay young party, plenty of fun
+and merriment, and for herself abundance of admiration.
+
+But Fred made himself scarce, only appearing at luncheon and vanishing
+afterwards; and Mrs. Ferris was occupied elsewhere most of the time;
+while between Mary and herself there was absolutely nothing in common.
+Mary, though only the senior by two or three years, was not only
+clever, but very intelligent and well read, and she had plenty of
+conversation. But the subjects for which she cared, though they would
+have delighted Joan, were utter tedium to Mittie's empty little head.
+
+Before an hour had passed, Mary's boredom was only less pronounced than
+Mittie's own.
+
+It was so tiresome, so stupid of Joan not to come! Mittie complained
+bitterly to herself of this. If Joan had come too, all would have gone
+well. She could not help seeing that she had not been meant to come
+without Joan, still less instead of Joan.
+
+With all her assurance, this realisation that she was not wanted and
+that everybody was regretting Joan's absence made her horribly
+uncomfortable.
+
+When left alone for a few minutes, early in the afternoon, she tugged
+angrily at her gloves, and muttered: "I wish I wasn't here. I wish I had
+left it to Joan. I think they are all most awfully frumpish and stupid,
+and I can't imagine what makes Joan so fond of them!"
+
+But she did not yet blame herself.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Five o'clock was the time fixed for return. Had Joan come it would have
+been much later.
+
+At tea-time Fred turned up, and it appeared that he meant to get off the
+return-row up the river. He had engaged a boatman to do it in his stead.
+Mary would still go, and though Mittie proudly said it did not matter,
+she wouldn't in the least mind being alone, Mary only smiled and held to
+her intention.
+
+But long before this stage of proceedings everybody was tired--Mary and
+Mittie especially, the one of entertaining, the other of being
+entertained.
+
+Mary had tried every imaginable thing she could think of to amuse the
+young guest, and every possible subject for talk. They seemed to have
+arrived at the end of everything, and it took all Mittie's energies to
+keep down, in a measure, her recurring yawns. Mary did her best, but
+she found Mittie far from interesting.
+
+When at length they started for the riverside, Fred went with the two
+girls to see them off; and Mittie felt like a prisoner about to be
+released.
+
+She was so eager to escape that she ran ahead of her companions towards
+the landing-place, and Mary dryly remarked in an undertone: "Mittie has
+had about enough of us, I think. How different she is from Joan! One
+would hardly take them for sisters."
+
+Fred was too downhearted to answer. He had felt all day terribly
+hopeless.
+
+Suddenly he started forward. "I say!--wait a moment!" he called.
+
+A slight turn had brought them in full view of the small boat floating
+close under the bank, roped loosely to the shore, and of Mittie standing
+above, poised as for a spring. She was light and active, and fond of
+jumping. At the moment of Fred's shout she was in the very act. No
+boatman was within sight.
+
+Perhaps the abrupt call startled her; perhaps in any case she would have
+miscalculated her distance. She was very self-confident, and had had
+little to do with boating.
+
+[Sidenote: An Upset]
+
+One way or another, instead of alighting neatly in the boat, as she
+meant to do, she came with both feet upon the gunwale and capsized the
+craft.
+
+There was a loud terrified shriek, a great splash, and Mittie had
+disappeared.
+
+"Fred! Fred!" screamed Mary.
+
+Fred cleared the space in a few leaps, and was down the bank by the time
+that Mittie rose, some yards off, floating down the stream, with hands
+flung wildly out. Another leap carried him into the water.
+
+He had thrown off his coat as he rushed to the rescue; and soon he had
+her in his grip, holding her off as she frantically clutched at him, and
+paddling back with one hand.
+
+He was obliged to land lower down, and Mary was there before him.
+Between them they pulled Mittie out, a wet, frightened, miserable
+object, her breath in helpless gasps and sobs, and one cheek bleeding
+freely from striking the rowlock.
+
+"Oh, Mittie! why did you do it?" Mary asked in distress--a rather
+inopportune question in the circumstances. "We must get her home at
+once, Fred, and put her to bed."
+
+They had almost to carry her up the bank, for all the starch and
+confidence were gone out of her; and she was supremely ashamed, besides
+being overwhelmed with the fright and the shock.
+
+On reaching the house Fred went off to change his own soaking garments,
+and Mittie was promptly put to bed, with a hot bottle at her feet and a
+hot drink to counteract the effects of the chill.
+
+She submitted with unwonted meekness; but her one cry was for her
+sister.
+
+"I want Joan! Oh, do fetch Joan!" she entreated. "My face hurts so
+awfully; and I feel so bad all over. I know I'm going to die! Oh, please
+send for Joan!"
+
+"I don't think there is the smallest probability of that, my dear," Mrs.
+Ferris said, with rather dry composure, as she sat by the bed. "If Fred
+had not been at hand you would have been in danger, certainly. But, as
+things are, it is simply a matter of keeping you warm for a few hours.
+Your face will be painful, I am afraid, for some days; but happily it is
+only a bad bruise."
+
+"I thought I could manage the jump so nicely," sighed Mittie.
+
+"It was a pity you tried. Now, Mittie, I am going to ask you a question,
+and I want a clear answer. Will you tell me frankly--did Joan _wish_ to
+stay at home to-day, and to send you in her stead?"
+
+Mittie was so subdued that she had no spirit for a fight. "No," came in
+a whisper. "I--she--she wanted awfully to come. And I--wouldn't stay at
+home. And Grannie didn't like to spare us both."
+
+"Ah, I see!" Mrs. Ferris laid a kind hand on Mittie. "I am glad you have
+told me; and you are sorry now, of course. That will make all the
+difference. Now I am going to send Fred to tell your sister what has
+happened, and to say that you will be here till to-morrow."
+
+"Couldn't he bring Joan? I do want her so!"
+
+"I'm not sure that that will be possible."
+
+But to Fred, when retailing what had passed, she added: "You had better
+motor over. And if you can persuade Joan to come, so much the better--to
+sleep, if possible; if not, we can send her home later."
+
+Fred was off like a shot. The motor run was a very short affair compared
+with going by boat. On arrival, he found the front door of Mrs. Wills's
+house open; and he caught a glimpse of a brown head within the
+bow-window of the breakfast-room.
+
+If he could only find Joan alone! He ventured to walk in without
+ringing.
+
+Alone, indeed, Joan was, trying to darn a pair of stockings, and finding
+the task difficult. It had been such a long, long day--longer even for
+her than for Mittie.
+
+[Sidenote: "Fred!"]
+
+"Come in," she said, in answer to a light tap. And the last face that
+she expected to see appeared. "_Fred!_" broke from her. "Mr. Ferris!"
+
+"No, please--I like 'Fred' best!" He came close, noting with joy how her
+face had in an instant parted with its gravity. "Why did you not come to
+us to-day?" he asked earnestly.
+
+"I couldn't."
+
+"Not--because you wanted to stay away?"
+
+"Oh no!"
+
+"Could not your sister have been the one at home?"
+
+Joan spoke gently. "You see, Mittie has never before spent a day at your
+house. She wanted it so much."
+
+"And you--did you want it, too--ever so little? Would you have cared to
+come, Joan?"
+
+Joan only smiled. She felt happy beyond words.
+
+"I've got to take you there now, if you'll come. For the night,
+perhaps--or at least for the evening. Mittie has had a wetting"--he
+called the younger girl by her name half-unconsciously--"and they have
+put her to bed for fear of a chill. And she wants you."
+
+Naturally Joan was a good deal concerned, though Fred made little of the
+accident. He explained more fully, and an appeal to the old lady brought
+permission.
+
+"Not for the night, child--I can't spare you for that, but for the
+evening. Silly little goose Mittie is!"
+
+And Fred, with delight, carried Joan off.
+
+"So Mrs. Wills can't do without you, even for one night," he said, when
+they were spinning along the high road, he and she behind and the
+chauffeur in front. He laughed, and bent to look into her eyes. "Joan,
+what is to happen when she _has_ to do without you altogether?"
+
+"Oh, I suppose--she might manage as she used to do before we came." Joan
+said this involuntarily; and then she understood. Her colour went up.
+
+"I don't think _I_ can manage very much longer without you--my Joan!"
+murmured Fred. "If you'll have me, darling."
+
+And she only said, "Oh, Fred!"
+
+But he understood.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Here is a story of an out-of-the-way Christmas entertainment
+got up for a girl's pleasure.]
+
+A Christmas with Australian Blacks
+
+BY
+
+J. S. PONDER
+
+
+"I say, Dora, can't we get up some special excitement for sister Maggie,
+seeing she is to be here for Christmas? I fancy she will, in her home
+inexperience, expect a rather jolly time spending Christmas in this
+forsaken spot. I am afraid that my letters home, in which I coloured
+things up a bit, are to blame for that," my husband added ruefully.
+
+"What can we do, Jack?" I asked. "I can invite the Dunbars, the Connors
+and the Sutherlands over for a dance, and you can arrange for a
+kangaroo-hunt the following day. That is the usual thing when special
+visitors come, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes," he moodily replied, "that about exhausts our programme. Nothing
+very exciting in that. I say, how would it do to take the fangs out of a
+couple of black snakes and put them in her bedroom, so as to give her
+the material of a thrilling adventure to narrate when she goes back to
+England?"
+
+"That would never do," I protested, "you might frighten her out of her
+wits. Remember she is not strong, and spare her everything except very
+innocent adventures. Besides, snakes are such loathsome beasts."
+
+"How would it do, then, to give a big Christmas feast to the blacks?" he
+hazarded.
+
+"Do you think she would like that?" I asked doubtfully. "Remember how
+awfully dirty and savage-looking they are."
+
+"Oh, we would try and get them to clean up a bit, and come somewhat
+presentable," he cheerfully replied. "And, Dora," he continued, "I think
+the idea is a good one. Sister Maggie is the Hon. Secretary or something
+of the Missionary Society connected with her Church, and in the thick of
+all the 'soup and blanket clubs' of the district. She will just revel at
+the chance of administering to the needs of genuine savages."
+
+"If you think so, you had better try and get the feast up," I resignedly
+replied; "but I do wish our savages were a little less filthy."
+
+Such was the origin of our Christmas feast to the blacks last year, of
+which I am about to tell you.
+
+My husband, John MacKenzie, was the manager and part proprietor of a
+large sheep-station in the Murchison district of Western Australia, and
+sister Maggie was his favourite sister. A severe attack of pneumonia had
+left her so weak that the doctors advised a sea voyage to Australia, to
+recuperate her strength--a proposition which she hailed with delight, as
+it would give her the opportunity of seeing her brother in his West
+Australian home. My husband, of course, was delighted at the prospect of
+seeing her again, while I too welcomed the idea of meeting my Scottish
+sister-in-law, with whom I had much charming correspondence, but had
+never met face to face.
+
+As the above conversation shows, my husband's chief care was to make his
+sister's visit bright and enjoyable--no easy task in the lonely
+back-blocks where our station was, and where the dreary loneliness and
+deadly monotony of the West Australian bush reaches its climax. Miles
+upon miles of uninteresting plains, covered with the usual gums and
+undergrowth, surrounded us on all sides; beautiful, indeed, in early
+spring, when the wealth of West Australian wild flowers--unsurpassed for
+loveliness by those of any other country--enriched the land, but at
+other times painfully unattractive and monotonous.
+
+Except kangaroos, snakes, and lizards, animal life was a-wanting. Bird
+and insect life, too, was hardly to be seen, and owing to the absence of
+rivers and lakes, aquatic life was unknown.
+
+The silent loneliness of the bush is so oppressive and depressing that
+men new to such conditions have gone mad under it when living alone, and
+others almost lose their power of intelligent speech.
+
+Such were hardly the most cheerful surroundings for a young convalescent
+girl, and so I fully shared Jack's anxiety as to how to provide healthy
+excitement during his sister's stay.
+
+Preparations for the blacks' Christmas feast were at once proceeded
+with. A camp of aboriginals living by a small lakelet eighteen miles off
+was visited, and the natives there were informed of a great feast that
+was to be given thirty days later, and were told to tell other blacks to
+come too, with their wives and piccaninnies.
+
+[Sidenote: A large order]
+
+Orders were sent to the nearest town, fifty-three miles off, for six
+cases of oranges, a gross of gingerbeer, and all the dolls, penknives
+and tin trumpets in stock; also (for Jack got wildly extravagant over
+his project) for fifty cotton shirts, and as many pink dresses of the
+readymade kind that are sold in Australian stores. These all came about
+a fortnight before Christmas, and at the same time our expected visitor
+arrived.
+
+She at once got wildly enthusiastic when my husband told her of his
+plan, and threw herself into the preparations with refreshing energy.
+
+She and I, and the native servants we had, toiled early and late,
+working like galley-slaves making bread-stuffs for the feast. Knowing
+whom I had to provide for, I confined myself to making that Australian
+standby--damper, and simple cakes, but Maggie produced a wonderfully
+elaborate and rich bun for their delectation, which she called a
+"Selkirk bannock," and which I privately thought far too good for them.
+
+Well, the day came. Such a Christmas as you can only see and feel in
+Australia; the sky cloudless, the atmosphere breezeless, the temperature
+one hundred and seven degrees in the shade. With it came the aboriginals
+in great number, accompanied, as they always are, by crowds of
+repulsive-looking mongrel dogs.
+
+Maggie was greatly excited, and not a little indignant, at seeing many
+of the gins carrying their dogs in their arms, and letting their infants
+toddle along on trembling legs hardly strong enough to support their
+little bodies, and much astonished when, on her proposing to send all
+their dogs away, I told her that this would result in the failure of the
+intended feast, as they would sooner forsake their children than their
+mongrels, and if the dogs were driven away, every native would
+indignantly accompany them.
+
+Maggie, with a sigh and a curious look on her face that told of the
+disillusioning of sundry preconceived English ideas regarding the noble
+savages, turned to look at Jack, and her lips soon twitched with
+merriment as she listened to him masterfully arranging the day's
+campaign.
+
+[Sidenote: A Magnificent Bribe]
+
+Marshalling the blacks before him like a company of soldiers--the women,
+thanks to my prudent instructions, being more or less decently dressed,
+the men considerably less decently, and the younger children of both
+sexes being elegantly clad in Nature's undress uniform--Jack vigorously
+addressed his listeners thus: "Big feast made ready for plenty
+black-fellow to-day, but black-fellow must make clean himself before
+feast." (Grunts of disapprobation from the men, and a perfect babel of
+angry protestation from the women here interrupted the speaker, who
+proceeded, oblivious of the disapproval of his audience.) "Black-fellow
+all come with me for washee; lubras and piccaninnies (_i.e._, women and
+children) all go with white women for washee." (Continued grumbles of
+discontent.) "Clean black-fellow," continued Jack, "get new shirtee,
+clean lubra new gowna." Then, seeing that even this magnificent bribe
+failed to reconcile the natives to the idea of soap and water, Jack, to
+the amusement of Maggie and myself, settled matters by shouting out the
+ultimatum: "No washee--no shirtee, no shirtee--no feastee," and stalked
+away, followed submissively by the aboriginal lords of creation.
+
+The men, indeed, and, in a lesser degree, the children, showed
+themselves amenable to reason that day, and were not wanting in
+gratitude; but in spite of Maggie's care and mine, the gins (the gentler
+sex) worthily deserved the expressive description: "Manners none,
+customs beastly."
+
+They were repulsive and dirty in the extreme. They gloried in their
+dirt, and clung to it with a closer affection than they did to womanly
+modesty--this last virtue was unknown.
+
+We, on civilising thoughts intent, had provided a number of large tubs
+and soap, and brushes galore for the Augean task, but though we got the
+women to the water, we were helpless to make them clean.
+
+Their declaration of independence was out at once--"Is thy servant a dog
+that I should do this thing?" Wash and be clean! Why, it was contrary to
+all the time-honoured filthy habits of the noble self-respecting race of
+Australian gins, and "they would have none of it." At last, in despair,
+and largely humiliated at the way in which savage womanhood had worsted
+civilised, Maggie and I betook ourselves to the long tables where the
+feast was being spread, and waited the arrival of the leader of the
+other sex, whose success, evidenced by sounds coming from afar, made me
+seriously doubt my right to be called his "better half."
+
+After a final appeal to my hard-hearted lord and master to be spared the
+indignity of the wash-tub, the native men had bowed to the inevitable.
+
+Each man heroically lent himself to the task, and diligently helped his
+neighbours to reach the required standard of excellence.
+
+Finally all save one stubborn aboriginal protestant emerged from the
+tub, like the immortal Tom Sawyer, "a man and a brother."
+
+Well, the feast was a great success. The corned and tinned meat,
+oranges, tomatoes, cakes and gingerbeer provided were largely consumed.
+The eatables, indeed, met the approval of the savages, for, like Oliver
+Twist, they asked for "more," until we who served them got rather
+leg-weary, and began to doubt whether, when night came, we would be able
+to say with any heartiness we had had "a merry Christmas."
+
+Clad in their clean shirts, and with faces shining with soap-polish, the
+men looked rather well, despite their repulsive and generally villainous
+features. But the women, wrinkled, filthy, quarrelsome and disgusting,
+they might have stood for incarnations of the witch-hags in _Macbeth_;
+and as we watched them guzzling down the food, and then turning their
+upper garments into impromptu bags to carry off what remained, it is
+hard to say whether the feeling of pity or disgust they raised was the
+stronger.
+
+After the feast, Jack, for Maggie's entertainment, tried to get up the
+blacks to engage in a corroboree, and give an exhibition of boomerang
+and spear-throwing; but the inner man had been too largely satisfied,
+and they declined violent exertion, so the toys were distributed and our
+guests dismissed.
+
+When she and I were dressing that evening for our own Christmas dinner,
+Maggie kept talking all the time of the strange experience she had
+passed through that day.
+
+[Sidenote: A Striking Picture]
+
+"I'll never forget it," she said. "Savages are so different from our
+English ideas of them. Did you notice the dogs? I counted nineteen go
+off with the first native that left. And the women! Weren't they
+horrors? I don't think I'll ever feel pride in my sex again. But above
+all, I'll never forget the way in which Jack drove from the table that
+native who hadn't a clean shirt on. It was a picture of Christ's parable
+of the 'Marriage Feast,'" she added softly.
+
+Before I could reply the gong, strengthened by Jack's imperative "Hurry
+up, I'm starving," summoned us to dinner.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A story of Sedgemoor times and of a woman who was both a
+saint and a heroine.]
+
+My Mistress Elizabeth
+
+BY
+
+ANNIE ARMITT
+
+
+I committed a great folly when I was young and ignorant; for I left my
+father's house and hid myself in London only that I might escape the
+match he desired to make for me. I knew nothing at that time of the
+dangers and sorrows of those who live in the world and are mixed in its
+affairs.
+
+Yet it was a time of public peril, and not a few who dwelt in the quiet
+corners of the earth found themselves embroiled suddenly in great
+matters of state. For when the Duke of Monmouth landed in Dorsetshire it
+was not the dwellers in great cities or the intriguers of the Court that
+followed him chiefly to their undoing; it was the peasant who left his
+plough and the cloth-worker his loom. Men who could neither read nor
+write were caught up by the cry of a Protestant leader, and went after
+him to their ruin.
+
+The prince to whose standard they flocked was, for all his sweet and
+taking manners, but a profligate at best; he had no true religion in his
+heart--nothing but a desire, indeed, for his own aggrandisement,
+whatever he might say to the unhappy maid that handed a Bible to him at
+Taunton. But of this the people were ignorant, and so it came to pass
+that they were led to destruction in a fruitless cause.
+
+[Sidenote: French Leave]
+
+But there were, besides the men that died nobly in a mistaken struggle
+for religious freedom, others that joined the army from mean and ignoble
+motives, and others again that had not the courage to go through with
+that which they had begun, but turned coward and traitor at the last.
+
+Of one of them I am now to write, and I will say of him no more evil
+than must be.
+
+How I, that had fled away from the part of the country where this
+trouble was, before its beginning, became mixed in it was strange
+enough.
+
+I had, as I said, run away to escape from the match that my father
+proposed for me; and yet it was not from any dislike of Tom Windham, the
+neighbour's son with whom I was to have mated, that I did this; but
+chiefly from a dislike that I had to settle in the place where I had
+been bred; for I thought myself weary of a country life and the little
+town whither we went to market; and I desired to see somewhat of life in
+a great city and the gaiety stirring there.
+
+There dwelt in London a cousin of my mother, whose husband was a mercer,
+and who had visited us a year before--when she was newly married--and
+pressed me to go back with her.
+
+"La!" she had said to me, "I know not how you endure this life, where
+there is nothing to do but to listen for the grass growing and the
+flowers opening. 'Twould drive me mad in a month."
+
+Then she told me of the joyous racket of a great city, and the gay shows
+and merry sports to be had there. But my father would not permit me to
+go with her.
+
+However, I resolved to ask no leave when the question of my marriage
+came on; and so, without more ado, I slipped away by the first occasion
+that came, when my friends were least suspecting it, and, leaving only
+a message writ on paper to bid them have no uneasiness, for I knew how
+to take care of myself, I contrived, after sundry adventures, to reach
+London.
+
+I arrived at an ill time, for there was sickness in the house of my
+cousin Alstree. However, she made me welcome as well as might be, and
+wrote to my father suddenly of my whereabouts. My father being sore
+displeased at the step I had taken, sent me word by the next messenger
+that came that way that I might even stay where I had put myself.
+
+So now I had all my desire, and should have been content; but matters
+did not turn out as I had expected. There might be much gaiety in the
+town; but I saw little of it. My cousin was occupied with her own
+concerns, having now a sickly baby to turn her mind from thoughts of her
+own diversion; her husband was a sour-tempered man; and the prentices
+that were in the house were ill-mannered and ill-bred.
+
+[Illustration: GALLANTS LOUNGING IN THE PARK.]
+
+There was in truth a Court no farther away than Whitehall. I saw
+gallants lounging and talking together in the Park, games on the Mall,
+and soldiers and horses in the streets and squares; but none of these
+had any concern with me.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The news of the Duke's landing was brought to London while I was still
+at my cousin's, but it made the less stir in her household because of
+the sickness there; and presently a new and grievous trouble fell upon
+us. My cousin Alstree was stricken with the small-pox, and in five days
+she and her baby were both dead. The house seemed no longer a fit place
+for me, and her husband was as one distracted; yet I had nowhere else to
+go to.
+
+It was then that a woman whom I had seen before and liked little came to
+my assistance. Her name was Elizabeth Gaunt.
+
+She was an Anabaptist and, as I thought, fanatical. She spent her life
+in good works, and cared nothing for dress, or food, or pleasure. Her
+manner to me had been stern, and I thought her poor and of no account;
+for what money she had was given mostly to others. But when she knew of
+my trouble she offered me a place in her house, bargaining only that I
+should help her in the work of it.
+
+"My maid that I had has left me to be married," she said; "'twould be
+waste to hire another while you sit idle."
+
+I was in too evil a plight to be particular, so that I went with her
+willingly. And this I must confess, that the tasks she set me were
+irksome enough, but yet I was happier with her than I had been with my
+cousin Alstree, for I had the less time for evil and regretful thoughts.
+
+Now it befell that one night, when we were alone together, there came a
+knocking at the house door.
+
+[Sidenote: A Strange Visitor]
+
+I went to open it, and found a tall man standing on the threshold. I was
+used to those that came to seek charity, who were mostly women or
+children, the poor, the sick, or the old. But this man, as I saw by the
+light I carried with me, was sturdy and well built; moreover, the cloak
+that was wrapped about him was neither ragged or ill-made, only the hat
+that he had upon his head was crushed in the brim.
+
+He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, and this frightened me
+somewhat, for we were two lone women, and the terror of my country
+breeding clung to me. There was, it is true, nothing in the house worth
+stealing, but yet a stranger might not know this.
+
+"Doth Mrs. Gaunt still live in this house?" he asked. "Is she not a
+woman that is very, charitable and ready to help those that are in
+trouble?"
+
+I looked at him, wondering what his trouble might be, for he seemed
+well-to-do and comfortable, except for the hat-brim. Yet he spoke with
+urgency, and it flashed upon me that his need might not be for himself,
+but another.
+
+I was about to answer him when he, whose eye had left me to wander round
+the narrow passage where we were, caught sight of a rim of light under a
+doorway.
+
+"Is she in that chamber, and alone? What, then, are you afraid of?" he
+asked, with impatience. "Do you think I would hurt a good creature like
+that?"
+
+"You would be a cruel wretch, indeed, to do it," I answered, plucking up
+a little spirit, "for she lives only to show kindness to others."
+
+"So I have been told. 'Tis the same woman," and without more ado he
+stalked past me to the door of her room, where she sat reading a Bible
+as her custom was; so he opened it and went in.
+
+I stood without in the passage, trembling still a little, and uncertain
+of his purpose, yet remembering his words and the horror he had shown at
+the thought of doing any hurt to my mistress. I said to myself that he
+could not be a wicked man, and that there was nothing to fear. But,
+well-a-day, well-a-day, we know not what is before us, nor the evil that
+we shall do before we die. Of a surety the man that I let in that night
+had no thought of what he should do; yet he came in the end to do it,
+and even to justify the doing of it.
+
+I waited outside, as I have said, and the sound of voices came to me. I
+thought to myself once, "Shall I go nearer and listen?" though it was
+only for my mistress's sake that I considered it, being no eavesdropper.
+But I did not go, and in so abstaining I was kept safe in the greatest
+danger I have been in throughout my life. For if I had heard and known,
+my fate might have been like hers; and should I have had the strength to
+endure it?
+
+In a little time the door opened and she came out alone. Her face was
+paler even than ordinary, and she gave a start on seeing me stand there.
+
+"Child," she said, "have you heard what passed between us on the other
+side of that door?"
+
+I answered that I had not heard a word; and then she beckoned me to
+follow her into the kitchen.
+
+When we were alone there I put down my candle on the deal table, and
+stood still while she looked at me searchingly. I could see that there
+was more in her manner than I understood.
+
+"Child," she said, "I have had to trust you before when I have given
+help to those in trouble, and you have not been wanting in discretion;
+yet you are but a child to trust."
+
+"If you tell me nothing I can repeat nothing," I answered proudly.
+
+"Yet you know something already. Can you keep silent entirely and under
+all circumstances as to what has happened since you opened the street
+door?"
+
+"It is not my custom to gabble about your affairs."
+
+"Will you seek to learn no more and to understand no more?"
+
+"I desire to know nothing of the affairs of others, if they do not
+choose to tell me of their own free will."
+
+She looked at me and sighed a little, at the which I marvelled somewhat,
+for it was ever her custom to trust in God and so to go forward without
+question.
+
+"You are young and ill prepared for trial, yet you have wandered
+alone--silly lassie that you are--into a wilderness of wolves."
+
+"There is trouble everywhere," I answered.
+
+"And danger too," she said; "but there is trouble that we seek for
+ourselves, and trouble that God sends to us. You will do well, when you
+are safe at home, to wander no more. Now go to bed and rest."
+
+"Shall I not get a meal for your guest?" I asked; for I was well aware
+that the man had not yet left the house.
+
+[Sidenote: "Ask no Questions!"]
+
+"Do my bidding and ask no questions," she said, more sternly than was
+her custom. So I took my candle and went away silently, she following me
+to my chamber. When I was there she bid me pray to God for all who were
+in danger and distress, then I heard that she turned the key upon me on
+the outside and went away.
+
+I undressed with some sullenness, being ill-content at the mistrust she
+showed; but presently she came to the chamber herself, and prayed long
+before she lay down beside me.
+
+And now a strange time followed. I saw no more of that visitor that had
+come to the house lately, nor knew at what time he went away, or if he
+had attained the end he sought. My mistress busied me mostly in the
+lower part of the house, and went out very little herself, keeping on me
+all the while a strict guard and surveillance beyond her wont.
+
+But at last a charitable call came to her, which she never refused; and
+so she left me alone, with instructions to remain between the kitchen
+and the street-door, and by no means to leave the house or to hold
+discourse with any that came, more than need be.
+
+I sat alone in the kitchen, fretting a little against her injunctions,
+and calling to mind the merry evenings in the parlour at home, where I
+had sported and gossiped with my comrades. I loved not solitude, and
+sighed to think that I had now nothing to listen to but the great clock
+against the wall, nothing to speak to but the cat that purred at my
+feet.
+
+I was, however, presently to have company that I little expected. For,
+as I sat with my seam in my hand, I heard a step upon the stairs; and
+yet I had let none into the house, but esteemed myself alone there.
+
+It came from above, where was an upper chamber, and a loft little used.
+
+My heart beat quickly, so that I was afraid to go out into the passage,
+for there I must meet that which descended, man or spirit as it might
+be. I heard the foot on the lowest stair, and then it turned towards the
+little closet where my mistress often sat alone at her devotions.
+
+While it lingered there I wondered whether I should rush out into the
+street, and seek the help and company of some neighbour. But I
+remembered Mrs. Gaunt's injunction; and, moreover, another thought
+restrained me. It was that of the man that I had let into the house and
+never seen again. It might well be that he had never left the place, and
+that I should be betraying a secret by calling in a stranger to look at
+him.
+
+So I stood trembling by the deal table until the step sounded again and
+came on to the kitchen.
+
+[Sidenote: The Man Again]
+
+The door opened, and a man stood there. It was the same whom I had seen
+before.
+
+He looked round quickly, and gave me a courteous greeting; his manner
+was, indeed, pleasant enough, and there was nothing in his look to set a
+maid trembling at the sight of him.
+
+"I am in luck," he said, "for I heard Mrs. Gaunt go out some time since,
+and I am sick of that upper chamber where she keeps me shut up."
+
+"If she keeps you shut up, sir," I said, his manner giving me back all
+my self-possession, "sure she has some very good reason."
+
+"Do you know her reason?" he asked with abruptness.
+
+"No, nor seek to know it, unless she chooses to tell me. I did not even
+guess that she had you in hiding."
+
+"Mrs. Gaunt is careful, but I can trust the lips that now reprove me.
+They were made for better things than betraying a friend. I would
+willingly have some good advice from them, seeing that they speak wise
+words so readily." And so saying he sat down on the settle, and looked
+at me smiling.
+
+I was offended, and with reason, at the freedom of his speech; yet, his
+manner, was so much beyond anything I had been accustomed to for ease
+and pleasantness, that I soon forgave him, and when he encouraged me,
+began to prattle about my affairs, being only, with all my conceit, the
+silly lassie my mistress had called me.
+
+I talked of my home and my own kindred, and the friends I had had--which
+things had now all the charm of remoteness for me--and he listened with
+interest, catching up the names of places, and even of persons, as if
+they were not altogether strange to him, and asking me further of them.
+
+"What could make you leave so happy a home for such a dungeon as this?"
+he asked, looking round.
+
+Then I hung my head, and reddened foolishly, but he gave a loud laugh
+and said, "I can well understand. There was some country lout that your
+father would have wedded you to. That is the way with the prettiest
+maidens."
+
+"Tom Windham was no country lout," I answered proudly; upon which he
+leaned forward and asked, "What name was that you said? Windham? and
+from Westover? Is he a tall fellow with straw-coloured hair and a cut
+over his left eye?"
+
+"He got it in a good cause," I answered swiftly; "have you seen him?"
+
+"Yes, lately. It is the same. Lucky fellow! I would I were in his place
+now." And he fell straightway into a moody taking, looking down as if he
+had forgotten me.
+
+"Sir, do you say so?" I stammered foolishly, "when--when----"
+
+"When you have run away from him? Not for that, little maid;" and he
+broke again into a laugh that had mischief in it. "But because when we
+last met he was in luck and I out of it, yet we guessed it not at the
+time."
+
+"I am glad he is doing well," I said proudly.
+
+"Then should you be sorry for me that am in trouble," he answered. "For
+I have no home now, nor am like to have, but must go beyond seas and
+begin a new life as best I may."
+
+"I am indeed sorry, for it is sad to be alone. If Mrs. Gaunt had not
+been kind to me----"
+
+[Sidenote: Interrupted]
+
+"And to me," he interrupted, "we should never have met. She is a good
+woman, your mistress Gaunt."
+
+"Yet, I have heard that beyond seas there are many diversions," I
+answered, to turn the talk from myself, seeing that he was minded to be
+too familiar.
+
+"For those that start with good company and pleasant companions. If I
+had a pleasant companion, one that would smile upon me with bright eyes
+when I was sad, and scold me with her pretty lips when I went
+astray--for there is nothing like a pretty Puritan for keeping a
+careless man straight."
+
+"Oh, sir!" I cried, starting to my feet as he put his hand across the
+deal table to mine; and then the door opened and Elizabeth Gaunt came
+in.
+
+"Sir," she said, "you have committed a breach of hospitality in entering
+a chamber to which I have never invited you. Will you go back to your
+own?"
+
+He bowed with a courteous apology and muttered something about the
+temptation being too great. Then he left us alone.
+
+"Child," she said to me, "has that man told you anything of his own
+affairs?"
+
+"Only that he is in trouble, and must fly beyond seas."
+
+"Pray God he may go quickly," she said devoutly. "I fear he is no man to
+be trusted."
+
+"Yet you help him," I answered.
+
+"I help many that I could not trust," she said with quietness; "they
+have the more need of help." And in truth I know that much of her good
+work was among those evil-doers that others shrank from.
+
+"This man seems strong enough to help himself," I said.
+
+"Would that he may go quickly," was all her answer. "If the means could
+but be found!"
+
+Then she spoke to me with great urgency, commanding me to hold no
+discourse with him nor with any concerning him.
+
+I did my best to fulfil her bidding, yet it was difficult; for he was a
+man who knew the world and how to take his own way in it. He contrived
+more than once to see me, and to pay a kind of court to me, half in jest
+and half in earnest; so that I was sometimes flattered and sometimes
+angered, and sometimes frighted.
+
+Then other circumstances happened unexpectedly, for I had a visitor that
+I had never looked to see there.
+
+I kept indoors altogether, fearing to be questioned by the neighbours;
+but on a certain afternoon there came a knocking, and when I went to
+open Tom Windham walked in.
+
+I gave a cry of joy, because the sight of an old friend was pleasant in
+that strange place, and it was not immediately that I could recover
+myself and ask what his business was.
+
+"I came to seek you," he said, "for I had occasion to leave my own part
+of the country for the present."
+
+[Illustration: "LOOKING AT HIM, I SAW THAT HE WAS HAGGARD AND STRANGE."]
+
+Looking at him, I saw that he was haggard and strange, and had not the
+confidence that was his formerly.
+
+"There has been a rising there," I answered him, "and trouble among
+many?"
+
+"Much trouble," he said with gloom. Then he fell to telling me how such
+of the neighbours were dead, and others were in hiding, while there were
+still more that went about their work in fear for their lives, lest any
+should inform against them.
+
+"Your father's brother was taken on Sedgemoor with a pike in his hand,"
+he added, "and your father has been busy ever since, raising money to
+buy his pardon--for they say that money can do much."
+
+"That is ill news, indeed," I said.
+
+"I have come to London on my own affairs, and been to seek you at your
+cousin Alstree's. When I learnt of the trouble that had befallen I
+followed you to this house, and right glad I am that you are safe with
+so good a woman as Mrs. Gaunt."
+
+"But why should you be in London when the whole countryside at home is
+in gaol or in mourning? Have you no friend to help? Did you sneak away
+to be out of it all?" I asked with the silly petulance of a maid that
+knows nothing and will say anything.
+
+"Yes," he said, hanging his head like one ashamed, "I sneaked away to be
+out of it all."
+
+It vexed me to see him so, and I went on in a manner that it pleased me
+little afterwards to remember. "You, that talked so of the Protestant
+cause! you, that were ready to fight against Popery! you were not one of
+those that marched for Bristol or fought at Sedgemoor?"
+
+"No," he said, "I did neither of these things."
+
+"Yet you have run away from the sight of your neighbours' trouble--lest,
+I suppose, you should anyways be involved in it. Well, 'twas a man's
+part!"
+
+He was about to answer me when we both started to hear a sound in the
+house. There was a foot on the stairs that I knew well. Tom turned aside
+and listened, for we had now withdrawn to the kitchen.
+
+"That is a man's tread," he said; "I thought you lived alone with Mrs.
+Elizabeth Gaunt."
+
+"Mrs. Gaunt spends her life in good works," I answered, "and shows
+kindness to others beside me."
+
+I raised my voice in hopes that the man might hear me and come no
+nearer, but the stupid fellow had waxed so confident that he came right
+in and stood amazed.
+
+[Sidenote: "You!"]
+
+"You!" he said; and Tom answered, "You!"
+
+So they stood and glared at one another.
+
+"I thought you were in a safe place," said Tom, swinging round to me.
+
+"She is in no danger from me," said the man.
+
+"Are you so foolish as to think so?" asked Tom.
+
+"If you keep your mouth shut she is in no danger," was the answer.
+
+"That may be," said Tom. Yet he turned to me and said, "You must come
+away from here."
+
+"I have nowhere to go to--and I will not leave Mrs. Gaunt."
+
+"I am myself going away," the man said.
+
+"How soon?"
+
+"To-night maybe; to-morrow night at farthest."
+
+"'Tis a great danger," said Tom, "and I thought you so safe." Again he
+spoke to me.
+
+"Is there danger from _you_?" the man asked.
+
+"Do you take me for a scoundrel?" was the wrathful reply.
+
+"A man will do much to keep his skin whole."
+
+"There are some things no man will do that is a man and no worse."
+
+"Truly you might have easily been in my place; and you would not inform
+against a comrade?"
+
+"I should be a black traitor to do it."
+
+Yet there was a blacker treachery possible, such as we none of us
+conceived the very nature of, not even the man that had the heart to
+harbour it afterwards.
+
+Tom would not leave me until Mrs. Gaunt came in, and then they had a
+private talk together. She begged him to come to the house no more at
+present, because of the suspicions that even so innocent a visitor might
+bring upon it at that time of public disquiet.
+
+"I shall contrive to get word to her father that he would do well to
+come and fetch her," he said, in my hearing, and she answered that he
+could not contrive a better thing.
+
+The man that, as I now understood, we had in hiding went out that night
+after it was dark, but he came back again; and he did so on the night
+that followed. Mrs. Gaunt, perceiving that she could not altogether keep
+him from my company, and that the hope of his safe departure grew less,
+began to show great uneasiness.
+
+"I see not how I am to get away," the man said gloomily when he found
+occasion for a word with me; "and the danger increases each day. Yet
+there is one way--one way."
+
+"Why not take it and go?" I asked lightly.
+
+"I may take it yet. A man has but one life." He spoke savagely and
+morosely; for his manner was now altered, and he paid me no more
+compliments.
+
+There came a night on which he went out and came back no more.
+
+"I trust in God," said Mrs. Gaunt, who used this word always in
+reverence and not lightly, "that he has made his escape and not fallen
+into the hands of his enemies."
+
+The house seemed lighter because he was gone, and we went about our work
+cheerfully. Later, when some strange men came to the door--as I, looking
+through an upper window, could see--Mrs. Gaunt opened to them smiling,
+for the place was now ready to be searched, and there was none to give
+any evidence who the man was that had lately hidden there.
+
+[Sidenote: Arrested]
+
+But there was no search. The men had come for Elizabeth Gaunt herself,
+and they told her, in my hearing, that she was accused of having given
+shelter to one of Monmouth's men, and the punishment of this crime was
+death.
+
+It did not seem to me at first possible that such a woman as Elizabeth
+Gaunt, that had never concerned herself with plots or politics, but
+spent her life wholly in good works, should be taken up as a public
+enemy and so treated only because she had given shelter to a man that
+had fled for his life. Yet this was, as I now learnt, the law. But there
+still seemed no possibility of any conviction, for who was there to give
+witness against her of the chief fact, namely, that she had known the
+man she sheltered to be one that had fought against the King? Her house
+was open always to those that were in trouble or danger, and no question
+asked. There were none of her neighbours that would have spied upon her,
+seeing that she had the reputation of a saint among them; and none to
+whom she had given her confidence. She had withheld it even from me, nor
+could I certainly say that she had the knowledge that was charged
+against her. For Windham was out of the way now--on my business, as I
+afterwards discovered; and if he had been nigh at hand he would have had
+more wisdom than to show himself at this juncture.
+
+When I was taken before the judge, and, terrified as I was, questioned
+with so much roughness that I suspected a desire to fright me further,
+so that I might say whatever they that questioned me desired, even then
+they could, happily, discover nothing that told against my mistress,
+because I knew nothing.
+
+In spite of all my confusion and distress, I uttered no word that could
+be used against Elizabeth Gaunt.
+
+I saw now her wise and kind care of me, in that she had not put me into
+the danger she was in herself. It seemed too that she must escape,
+seeing that there was none to give witness against her.
+
+And then the truth came out, that the villain himself, tempted by the
+offer of the King to pardon those rebels that should betray their
+entertainers, had gone of his own accord and bought his safety at the
+cost of her life that had sheltered and fed him.
+
+When the time came that he must give his evidence, the villain stepped
+forward with a swaggering impudence that ill-concealed his secret shame,
+and swore not only that Elizabeth Gaunt had given him shelter, but
+moreover that she had done it knowing who he was and where he came from.
+And so she was condemned to death, and, in the strange cruelty of the
+law, because she was a woman and adjudged guilty of treason, she must be
+burnt alive.
+
+She had no great friends to help her, no money with which to bribe the
+wicked court; yet I could not believe that a King who called himself a
+Christian--though of that cruel religion that has since hunted so many
+thousands of the best men out of France, or tortured them in their homes
+there--could abide to let a woman die, only because she had been
+merciful to a man that was his enemy. I went about like one distracted,
+seeking help where there was no help, and it was only when I went to the
+gaol and saw Elizabeth herself--which I was permitted to do for a
+farewell--that I found any comfort.
+
+"We must all die one day," she said, "and why not now, in a good cause?"
+
+"Is it a good cause," I cried, "to die for one that is a coward, a
+villain, a traitor?"
+
+"Nay," she answered, "you mistake. I die for the cause of charity. I die
+to fulfil my Master's command of kindness and mercy."
+
+"But the man was unworthy," I repeated.
+
+"What of that? The love is worthy that would have helped him; the
+charity is worthy that would have served him. Gladly do I die for having
+lived in love and charity. They are the courts of God's holy house. They
+are filled full of peace and joy. In their peace and joy may I abide
+until God receives me, unworthy, into His inner temple."
+
+"But the horror of the death! Oh, how can you bear it?"
+
+"God will show me how when the time comes," she said, with the
+simplicity of a perfect faith.
+
+[Sidenote: Death by Fire]
+
+And of a truth He did show her; for they that stood by her at the last
+testified how her high courage did not fail; no, nor her joy either; for
+she laid the straw about her cheerfully for her burning, and thanked God
+that she was permitted to die in this cruel manner for a religion that
+was all love.
+
+I could not endure to watch that which she could suffer joyfully, but at
+first I remained in the outskirts of the crowd. When I pressed forward
+after and saw her bound there--she that had sat at meals with me and
+lain in my bed at night--and that they were about to put a torch to the
+faggots and kindle them, I fell back in a swoon. Some that were merciful
+pulled me out of the throng, and cast water upon me; and William Penn
+the Quaker, that stood by (whom I knew by sight--and a strange show this
+was that he had come with the rest to look upon), spoke to me kindly,
+and bid me away to my home, seeing that I had no courage for such
+dreadful sights.
+
+So I hurried away, ashamed of my own cowardice, and weeping sorely,
+leaving behind me the tumult of the crowd, and smelling in the air the
+smoke of the kindled faggots. I put my fingers in my ears and ran back
+to the empty house: there to fall on my knees, to pray to God for mercy
+for myself, and to cry aloud against the cruelty of men.
+
+Then there happened a thing which I remember even now with shame.
+
+The man who had betrayed my mistress came disguised (for he was now at
+liberty to fly from the anger of the populace and the horror of his
+friends) and he begged me to go with him and to share his fortunes,
+telling me that he feared solitude above everything, and crying to me to
+help him against his own dreadful thoughts.
+
+I answered him with horror and indignation; but he said I should rather
+pity him, seeing that many another man would have acted so in his place;
+and others might have been in his place easily enough.
+
+"For," said he, "your friend Windham was among those that came to take
+service under the Duke and had to be sent away because there were no
+more arms. He was sorely disappointed that he could not join us."
+
+"Then," said I suddenly, "this was doubtless the reason why he fled the
+country--lest any should inform against him."
+
+"That is so," he answered; "and a narrow escape he has had; for if he
+had fought as he desired he might well have been in my place this day."
+
+"In Elizabeth Gaunt's rather!" I answered. "He would himself have died
+at the stake before he could have been brought to betray the woman that
+had helped him."
+
+"You had a poorer opinion of him a short while ago."
+
+"I knew not the world. I knew not men. I knew not _you_. Go! Go! Take
+away your miserable life--for which two good and useful lives have been
+given--and make what you can of it. I would--coward as I am--go back to
+my mistress and die with her rather than have any share in it!"
+
+He tarried no more, and I was left alone. Not a creature came near me.
+It may be that my neighbours had seen him enter, and thought of me with
+horror as a condoner of his crime; it may be that they were afraid to
+meddle with a house that had fallen into so terrible a trouble; or that
+the frightful hurricane that burst forth and raged that day (as if to
+show that God's anger was aroused and His justice, though delayed, not
+forgotten) kept them trembling in their houses.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Sidenote: A Knocking at Nightfall]
+
+What would have befallen me if I had been left long alone in that great
+and evil city I know not, for I had no wits left to make any plans for
+myself. At nightfall, however, there came once more a knocking, and when
+I opened the door my father stood on the threshold. There seemed no
+strangeness in his presence, and I fell into his arms weeping, so that
+he, seeing how grievous had been my punishment, forbore to make any
+reproach.
+
+The next day began our journey home, and I have never since returned to
+London; but when I got back to the place I had so foolishly left I found
+it sadder than before. Many friends were gone away or dead. Some honest
+lads, with whom I had jested at fair-times, hung withering on the
+ghastly gallows by the wayside; others lay in unknown graves; others
+languished in gaol or on board ship. My father's own brother, though his
+life was spared, had been sent away to the plantations to be sold, and
+to work as a slave.
+
+It was some time before Tom Windham--that had, at considerable risk to
+himself, sent my father to fetch me--ventured to settle again in his old
+place; and for a long time after that he was shy of addressing me.
+
+But I was changed now as much as he was. I had seen what the world was,
+and knew the value of an honest love in it. So that, in the end, we came
+to an understanding, and have been married these many years.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: What is girl life like in newer Canada--in lands to which so
+many of our brothers are going just now? This article--written in the
+Far North-West--supplies the answer.]
+
+Girl Life in Canada
+
+BY
+
+JANEY CANUCK
+
+
+If you leave out France, Canada is as large as all Europe; which means
+that the girls of our Dominion live under climatic, domestic, and social
+conditions that are many and varied. It is of the girls in the newer
+provinces I shall write--those provinces known as "North-West
+Canada"--who reside in the country adjacent to some town or village.
+
+It is true that many girls who come here with their fathers and mothers
+often live a long distance from a town or even a railroad.
+
+Where I live at Edmonton, the capital of the Province of Alberta, almost
+every day in the late winter we see girls starting off to the Peach
+River district, which lies to the north several hundred miles from a
+railroad.
+
+[Sidenote: A Travelling House]
+
+How do they travel? You could never guess, so I may as well tell you.
+They travel in a house--a one-roomed house. It is built on a sled and
+furnished with a stove, a table that folds against the wall, a cupboard
+for food and dishes, nails for clothing, and a box for toilet
+accessories. Every available inch is stored with supplies, so that
+every one must perforce sleep on the floor. This family bed is, however,
+by no means uncomfortable, for the "soft side of the board" is piled
+high with fur rugs and four-point blankets. (Yes, if you remind me I'll
+tell you by and by what a "four-point" blanket is.)
+
+The entrance to the house is from the back, and the window is in front,
+through a slide in which the lines extend to the heads of the horses or
+the awkward, stumbling oxen.
+
+You must not despise the oxen, or say, "A pretty, team for a Canadian
+girl!" for, indeed, they are most reliable animals, and not nearly so
+delicate as horses, nor so hard to feed--and they never, never run away.
+Besides--and here's the rub--you can always eat the oxen should you ever
+want to, and popular prejudice does not run in favour of horseflesh.
+
+Oh, yes! I said I would tell you about "four-point" blankets. They are
+the blankets that have been manufactured for nearly three hundred years
+by "the Honourable Company of Gentlemen Adventurers of England trading
+into Hudson's Bay," known for the sake of conciseness as the "H.B.
+Company." These blankets are claimed to be the best in the world, and
+weigh from eight to ten pounds. The Indians, traders, trappers, boatmen,
+and pioneers in the North use no others. They are called "four-point"
+because of four black stripes at one corner. There are lighter blankets
+of three and a half points, which points are indicated in the same way.
+By these marks an Indian knows exactly what value he is getting in
+exchange for his precious peltry.
+
+After travelling for three or four weeks in this gipsy fashion, mayhap
+getting a peep at a moose, a wolf, or even a bear (to say nothing of
+such inconsequential fry as ermine, mink, beaver, and otter), the family
+arrive at their holding of 160 acres.
+
+It does not look very pleasant, this holding. The snow is just melting,
+and the landscape is dreary enough on every side, for as yet Spring has
+not even suggested that green is the colour you may expect to see in
+Nature's fashion-plate. Not she!
+
+But here's the point. Look you here! the house is already built for
+occupancy, and has only to be moved from the sled to the ground. There
+is no occasion for a plumber or gasfitter either, and as for water and
+fuel, they are everywhere to be had for the taking.
+
+Presently other rooms will be added of lumber or logs, and a cellar
+excavated. But who worries about these things when they have just become
+possessors of 160 statute acres of land that have to be prepared for
+grain and garden stuff? Who, indeed?
+
+Here is where the girl comes in. She must learn to bake bread and cakes,
+how to dress game and fish, and how to make bacon appetising twice a
+day. She must "set" the hens so that there may be "broilers" against
+Thanksgiving Day, and eggs all the year round. She has to sow the
+lettuces, radishes, and onions for succulent salads; and always she must
+supply sunshine and music, indoors and out, for dad and mother and the
+boys.
+
+Perhaps you think she is not happy, but you are sadly mistaken. She is
+busy all day and sleepy all night. She knows that after a while a
+railroad is coming in here, and there will be work and money for men and
+teams, which means the establishment of a town near by, where you may
+purchase all kinds of household comforts and conveniences, to say
+nothing of pretty blouses, hats, and other "fixings." Oh, she knows it,
+the minx! She is the kind of a girl Charles Wagner describes as putting
+"witchery into a ribbon and genius into a stew."
+
+But let us take a look at the girl who lives in the more settled parts
+of the country, near a town.
+
+If she be ambitious, or anxious to help the home-folk, she will want to
+become a teacher, a bookkeeper, Civil Service employee, or a
+stenographer. To accomplish this end, she drives to town every day to
+attend the High School or Business College. Or perhaps she may move
+into town for the school terms.
+
+Of all these occupations, that of the teacher is most popular. Teachers,
+in these new provinces, are in great demand, for the supply is entirely
+inadequate. As a result, they are especially well paid.
+
+If the teacher is hard to get, she is also hard to hold; for the
+bachelor population being largely in the majority, there are many
+flattering inducements of a matrimonial character held out to the girl
+teacher to settle down permanently with a young farmer, doctor, real
+estate agent, lawyer, or merchant. You could never believe what
+inducements these sly fellows hold out. Never!
+
+In town our girls find many diversions. She may skate, ride, play golf,
+basket-ball, or tennis, according as her purse or preference may
+dictate.
+
+If there be no municipal public library, or reading-room in connection
+with the Young Women's Christian Association, she may borrow books from
+a stationer's lending-library for a nominal sum, so that none of her
+hours need be unoccupied or unprofitable.
+
+[Sidenote: Young Men and Maidens]
+
+In Canadian towns and villages the Church-life is of such a nature that
+every opportunity is given young girls to become acquainted with others
+of their own age. There are literary, temperance, missionary, and social
+clubs in connection with them, some one of which meets almost every
+night. In the winter the clubs have sleigh-rides and suppers, and in the
+summer lawn-socials and picnics much as they do in England, or in any
+part of the British Isles.
+
+Compared with girls in the older countries, it is my opinion that the
+Canadian lassie of the North-West Provinces has a keener eye to the
+material side of life. This is only a natural outcome of the commercial
+atmosphere in which she lives.
+
+She sees her father, or her friends, buying lots in some new town site,
+or in a new subdivision of some city, and, with an eye to the main
+chance, she desires to follow their example. These lots can be
+purchased at from L10 to L100, and by holding them for from one to five
+years they double or treble in value as the places become populated.
+
+As a result, nearly all the girls employed in Government offices, or as
+secretaries, teachers, or other positions where the salaries are fairly
+generous, manage to save enough money to purchase some lots to hold
+against a rise. After investing and reinvesting several times, our girl
+soon has a financial status of her own and secures a competency. She has
+no time for nervous prostration or moods, but is alert and wideawake all
+the time.
+
+Does she marry? Oh, yes! But owing to her financial independence,
+marriage is in no sense of the word a "Hobson's choice," but is
+generally guided entirely by heart and conscience, as, indeed, it always
+should be.
+
+Some of the girls who come from Europe or the British Isles save their
+dollars to enable the rest of the family to come out to Canada.
+
+"Wee Maggie," a waitress in a Winnipeg restaurant, told me the other day
+that in three years she had saved enough to bring her aged father and
+mother over from Scotland and to furnish a home for them.
+
+Still other girls engage in fruit-farming in British Columbia, or in
+poultry-raising; but these are undertakings that require some capital to
+start with.
+
+An increasingly large number of Canadian girls are taking University
+courses, or courses in technical colleges and musical conservatoires,
+with the idea of fitting themselves as High School teachers or for the
+medical profession.
+
+In speaking of the girls of Western Canada, one must not overlook the
+Swedish, Russian, Italian, Galician, and other Europeans who have made
+their home in the Dominion.
+
+The Handicrafts Guild is helping these girls to support themselves by
+basketry, weaving, lace and bead making, pottery, and needlework
+generally. Prizes are offered annually in the different centres for the
+best work, and all articles submitted are afterwards placed on sale in
+one of their work depositories. This association is doing a splendid
+work, in that they are making the arts both honourable and profitable.
+
+While this article has chiefly concerned itself with the domestic and
+peaceful pursuits of our Canadian girls, it must not be forgotten that
+in times of stress they have shown themselves to be heroines who have
+always been equal to their occasions.
+
+Our favourite heroine is, perhaps, Madeleine de Vercheres, who, in the
+early days when the Indians were an ever-present menace to the settlers
+on the St. Lawrence River, successfully defended her father's seignory
+against a band of savage Iroquois.
+
+Her father had left an old man of eighty, two soldiers, and Madeleine
+and her two little brothers to guard the fort during his absence in
+Quebec.
+
+[Sidenote: A Girl Captain]
+
+One day a host of Indians attacked them so suddenly they had hardly time
+to barricade the windows and doors. The fight was so fierce the soldiers
+considered it useless to continue it, but Madeleine ordered them to
+their posts, and for a week, night and day, kept them there. She taught
+her little brothers how to load and fire the guns so rapidly that the
+Indians were deceived and thought the fort well garrisoned.
+
+When a reinforcement came to her relief, it was a terribly exhausted
+little girl that stepped out to welcome them at the head of the
+defenders--Captain Madeleine Vercheres, aged fourteen!
+
+Yes, we like to tell this story of Madeleine over and over.
+
+We like to paint pictures of her, too, and to mould her figure in
+bronze; for we know right well that she is a type of the strong, brave,
+resourceful lassies who in all ranks of our national life, may ever be
+counted upon to stand to their posts, be the end what it may.
+
+Gentlemen, hats off! The Canadian girl!
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Evelyne resented the summons to rejoin her father in New
+Zealand. Yet she came to see that the call to service was a call to true
+happiness.]
+
+"Such a Treasure!"
+
+BY
+
+EILEEN O'CONNELL
+
+
+"Evelyne, come to my room before you go to your singing lesson. I have
+had a most important letter from your father; the New Zealand mail came
+in this morning."
+
+"Can I come now, Aunt Mary?" replied a clear voice, its owner appearing
+suddenly at the head of the stairs pinning on to a mass of sunny hair a
+very large hat. "I want to go early, for if I arrive first, I often get
+more than my regular time, and you know how greedy I am for new songs."
+
+Mrs. Trevor did not reply; she walked slowly into her morning-room and
+stood at the window looking perplexed and serious, thinking nothing
+about her niece's lessons, and looking at, without seeing, the midsummer
+beauty of her garden. A few minutes later the door opened, and she
+turned to the young girl, who with a song on her lips danced merrily
+into the room.
+
+At the sight of Mrs. Trevor's face she stopped suddenly, exclaiming,
+"Something is wrong! What has happened?"
+
+"You are right, Eva, something has happened--something, my child, that
+will affect your whole life." With a falter in her voice the woman
+continued, "You are to leave me, Evelyne, and go out to New Zealand. You
+are needed in your father's house."
+
+[Sidenote: "I Refuse to Go!"]
+
+"To New Zealand?--I refuse to go."
+
+"You have no choice in the matter, dearest. Your mother has become a
+confirmed invalid, and is incapable of looking after the children and
+the house. Your father has naturally thought of you."
+
+"As a kind of servant to a heap of noisy boys, half of whom I never have
+seen even. I daresay it would be very convenient and very cheap to have
+me. However, I shall not go to that outlandish place they live at in New
+Zealand, and you must tell father so."
+
+"But I cannot, Evie. There is no choice about it. Your parents have the
+first claim on you, remember."
+
+"I deny that," said the girl passionately; "they cared so little about
+me that they were ready to give me to you and go to New Zealand without
+me; that fact, I think, ends their claims. And Auntie, having lived here
+for eight years, and being in every way happy, and with so much before
+me to make life worth living, how can they be so selfish as to wish to
+ruin my prospects and make me miserable?"
+
+"Eva, Eva, don't jump to conclusions! Instead of believing that the
+worst motives compelled your father's decision, think it just possible
+that they were the highest. Put yourself out of the question for the
+moment and face facts. Your parents were _not_ willing to part with you;
+believe me, it was a bitter wrench to both to leave you behind. But
+settling up country in the colony was not an easy matter for my brother
+with his delicate wife and four children. Marjory was older than you, so
+of course more able to help with the boys, and knowing that his expenses
+would be very heavy and his means small, I offered to adopt you; for
+your sake, more than other considerations, I think, my offer was
+accepted. Since Marjory's death your mother has practically been alone,
+for servants are scarce and very expensive. Now, poor soul, her
+strength is at an end; she has developed an illness that involves the
+greatest care and rest. You see, darling, that this is no case for
+hesitation. The call comes to you, and you must answer and do your duty
+faithfully."
+
+The girl buried her face in the sofa cushions, her hat lay on the floor.
+
+"I hate children--especially boys," she said sullenly when she spoke.
+"Surely in eight years a doctor ought to be able to make enough to pay a
+housekeeper, if his wife can't look after his house."
+
+"You don't understand how hard life is sometimes, or I think you would
+be readier to take up part of a burden that is dragging down a good and
+brave man."
+
+"To live in an uncivilised country, where probably the people won't
+speak my own language----"
+
+"Don't betray such absurd ignorance, Eva," replied Mrs. Trevor; "you
+must know that New Zealand is a British colony, inhabited mainly by our
+own people, who are as well educated and as well mannered as ourselves."
+
+"And just when I was getting on so well with my singing! Mr. James said
+my voice would soon fill a concert hall, and all my hopes of writing and
+becoming a known author--everything dashed to the ground--every longing
+nipped in the bud! Oh! it is cruel, cruel!"
+
+"I knew, dear child, that the blow would be severe; don't imagine that
+it will be easy for me to give you up. But knowing what lies before us,
+the thing to do is to prize every hour we are together, and then with
+courage go forward to meet the unknown future. The boys are growing
+up----"
+
+"Hobbledehoys, you may be sure."
+
+Mrs. Trevor smiled, but said nothing. "And in addition to them, there is
+the baby sister you have never seen."
+
+"And never wish to," added Eva ungraciously.
+
+"We shall have much to think of, and when once you have become used to
+the idea, I should strongly advise you to settle to some practical work
+that will help when you are forced to depend on yourself."
+
+Eva did not reply. Mentally she was protesting or blankly refusing to
+give up her life of ease, of pleasures, and congenial study in exchange
+for the one offered her in the colony.
+
+"Friends of your father are now home and expect to return in September;
+so, having arranged for you to accompany them, we must regard their
+arrangements as time limit. It is always best to know the worst, though,
+believe me, anticipation is often worse than realisation."
+
+The sword had fallen, cutting off, as Evelyne Riley was fully convinced,
+every possibility of happiness on earth so far as she was concerned.
+Time seemed to fly on fairy wings; Mrs. Trevor made all necessary
+preparations, and before Evelyne realised that her farewell to England
+must be made, she stood on the deck of the outgoing steamer "Waimato" at
+the side of a stranger, waving her hand forlornly to the woman whose
+heart was sore at parting with one she had learned to look upon as her
+own child.
+
+[Sidenote: In New Zealand]
+
+Six weeks later, Eva landed at Wellington. The voyage had not interested
+her much, and she was glad to end it. She had read somewhere that it was
+usual to wear old clothes on board, but for landing to choose smart and
+becoming ones, and Eva had bestowed quite some thought on the subject.
+Her dark serge lay at the bottom of her trunk, and for the important
+occasion she decided on her most cherished frock and the new hat, which
+in Richmond she had worn on high-days and holidays. Certainly she looked
+very attractive. Almost sixteen, tall and very fair, Eva was a beautiful
+girl, and as the eyes of Dr. Riley fell on her, he wondered in amazement
+at the change that had taken place in the pale, slight child he had left
+with his sister. Could this really be Evelyne? If so, how was she going
+to suit in the simple surroundings to which she was going? He gazed in
+dismay at the expensive clothes and fashionable style of one who soon
+would need to patch and darn, to bake and cook, run the house on
+practical lines, and care for children.
+
+Somewhat nervous and much excited, Eva allowed herself to be kissed and
+caressed, asking after her mother in a constrained fashion, for, try as
+she would, she bore a grudge against one who was the cause of her
+changed life.
+
+A shadow overcast the doctor's face as he replied, "Your dear mother
+will not welcome you at our home as we had hoped. She lies very ill in a
+hospital at present, awaiting a severe operation, the success of which
+may save her life--God grant it may--but the boys and Babs are wild with
+excitement and longing to see you. We ought to reach 'Aroha' before they
+are in bed. It is only nine o'clock, and we can go part of the way by
+train; then we shall have a long buggy drive through the bush."
+
+That day Eva never forgot. Travelling with one who was practically a
+stranger to her and yet her nearest relative, the girl felt embarrassed.
+She wanted to hear about her future surroundings and ask questions about
+the children, but she found it hard to disguise her disappointment in
+having to leave her old home and to pretend enthusiasm about her
+brothers and sister; she feared that her father would read her thoughts
+and be hurt and offended, so relapsed into silence. Once they left the
+railway they said goodbye to civilisation, Eva felt positive.
+
+The country was at its loveliest; the early summer brought a beauty of
+its own. Rains had washed every leaf and refreshed each growing thing.
+Great trees, veritable giants, reared their heads proudly towards the
+sky, bushes were in full leaf, the ground on either side of the road was
+carpeted with thick moss that had grown for long years without being
+disturbed. From out of a cloudless sky the sun shone brilliantly, and
+the travellers gladly exchanged the high-road for the shelter of the
+bush. The day was undoubtedly hot, and Eva in her holiday raiment felt
+oppressed and weary before the carriage came in sight of the first
+houses that comprised the growing little township in which her father
+held an important position as medical man.
+
+The style of house brought a curve of contempt to the girl's lips, but
+she offered no opinions. Suddenly, without a remark, her father checked
+the horses, as a small group came to a halt in the middle of the road
+and began waving their hats and shouting wildly.
+
+"There's a welcome for you, Eva!"
+
+"Who are they? I mean--how did those boys know I was coming?"
+
+"They are your brothers, dear; jolly little chaps every one of them,
+even though they are a bunch of rough robins."
+
+Eva shivered; her brothers--those raggety tags!
+
+They presented a picturesque though unkempt appearance. Jack was eating
+a slice of bread and jam; Dick had Babs--somewhat in a soiled condition
+from watering the garden--on his back; Charlie, the incorrigible, with a
+tear in his knickers and a brimless hat on the back of his curly head,
+was leaping about like an excited kangaroo.
+
+[Sidenote: "An Impossible Crowd!"]
+
+The doctor held out his arms to the three-year-old little girl, who
+looked shyly at the pretty lady and then promptly hid her face. Eva's
+heart sank; she knew she ought to say or do something, but no words of
+tenderness came to her lips. The child might be attractive if clean, but
+it looked neglected, while the boys were what she described as
+"hobbledehoys." "An impossible crowd," she decided with a shudder, and
+yet her life was to be spent in their midst.
+
+"Leave your sister in peace, you young rascals!" said the doctor; "she
+is tired. Dick, put on the kettle; Eva will be glad of some tea, I know.
+Welcome home, dear daughter. Mother and I have longed for you so often,
+and my hopes run high now that you have come. I trust you will be a
+second mother to the boys and Babs."
+
+"I will try," Eva replied in a low voice.
+
+Her father noticed her depression, so wisely said little more, but going
+out to see a patient, left her to settle into her new surroundings in
+her own fashion.
+
+Next morning Eva wakened early and looked out of her window, which was
+shaded by a climbing rose that trailed right across it. The house was
+boarded and shingled, one little piece of wood neatly overlapping the
+other; it was only two stories high, with deep eaves and a wide verandah
+all around it.
+
+Breakfast once over, Eva made a tour of the rooms, ending up in the
+kitchen, accompanied, of course, by all the boys and Babs at her heels.
+Uncertain what to do first, she was much astonished at a voice
+proceeding from the washhouse saying in familiar fashion, "Where on
+earth are you all?" There had been no knock at the door, no bell
+rung--what could it mean?
+
+Standing unconcernedly in the middle of the room unrolling an apron
+stood a little woman of about forty years.
+
+"Good day to you, Eva; hope you slept well after your journey. Come out
+of the pantry, Jack, or I'll be after you."
+
+"May I ask whom I am talking to?" asked Eva icily, much resenting being
+addressed as "Eva."
+
+"I am Mrs. Meadows, and thought I'd just run in and show you where
+things are. You'll feel kind of strange."
+
+"Of course it will take some time to get used to things, but I think I
+should prefer doing it in my own way, thank you."
+
+"Perhaps that would be best," replied Mrs. Meadows. "To-day is baking
+day; can you manage, do you think?"
+
+"I suppose I can order from the baker?"
+
+The woman smiled. "'Help yourself' is the motto of a young country, my
+dear; every one is her own cook and baker, too. Let me help you to-day,
+and by next week things will seem easier, and you will be settled and
+rested. Your mother is my friend; for her sake I'd like to stand by you.
+Will you tidy the rooms while I see to the kitchen?"
+
+Fairly beaten, Eva walked upstairs, hating the work, the house, and
+everything in general, and Mrs. Meadows, whom she considered forward, in
+particular.
+
+The next three days were trials in many ways to the doctor's household,
+himself included. The meals were irregular, the food badly cooked, but
+the man patiently made allowances, and was silent. It was a break in the
+monotony of "sweep and cook and wash up" when Sunday arrived and the
+family went to church. The tiny building was nearly filled, and many
+eyes were turned on the newcomer. But she noticed no one. The old
+familiar hymns brought tears to her eyes, and her thoughts stole away
+from her keeping to the dear land beyond the seas. However, she rallied
+and joined heartily in the last hymn, her voice ringing out above all
+others.
+
+When next she saw Mrs. Meadows the conversation turned to church and
+congregation. After telling her details she thought were interesting,
+Mrs. Meadows said, "You have a nice voice, Eva, but you mustn't strain
+it."
+
+[Sidenote: Eva's Top Notes]
+
+"Do you think I do?" she replied. "I was trained at the Guildhall
+School, and I suppose my master knew the limits of my voice. _He_
+approved of my top notes. Perhaps you don't know what the Guildhall
+School is, though," she added insolently.
+
+"On the contrary, my father was one of the professors until he died.
+Don't think that in New Zealand we are quite ignorant of the world,
+Eva."
+
+The conversation upset the girl sadly. She was vain of her voice and
+anxious to make the most of it. She went into the kitchen to make a pie,
+heedless that Jack had found a jar of raisins and was doing his best to
+empty it as fast as he could, and that Charlie was too quiet to be out
+of mischief. The paste was made according to her ability, certainly
+neither light nor digestible, and was ready for the oven, when suddenly
+a giggle behind her made her turn to behold that wretched boy Charlie
+dressed in her blue velvet dress, best hat, and parasol.
+
+"You wicked boy, how dare you?" she cried, stamping her foot, but the
+boy fled, leaving the skirt on the floor. Picking it up, she gave chase
+to recover the hat, and when at last she returned to her pie, she found
+that Jack had forestalled her and made cakes for himself out of it and a
+marble tart for her.
+
+Eva did not trust herself with the boys that morning; she literally
+hated them. Still, she must master herself before she could master them,
+and show once and for all that she was able to deal with the situation.
+Shutting herself into the parlour, she sat quiet, trying to think and
+plan, but in vain--she could not calm herself.
+
+She took up a book and attempted to read and forget her annoyances in
+losing herself in the story, but that, too, failed. Her trials were
+countless. Not sufficient were to be found in the house, but that
+interfering Mrs. Meadows must criticise her singing.
+
+She opened the piano, determined to listen to herself and judge what
+truth there was in the remark. She ran over a few scales, but was
+interrupted by a rough-looking man shouting, "Stop that noise, and come
+here! It'd be better if you looked after the bits of bairns than sit
+squealing there like a pig getting killed. Don't stare so daft; where's
+yer father?"
+
+Eva rose in anger, but going up to the man, words died on her lips--her
+heart seemed to stand still, for in his arms he held Babs, white and
+limp.
+
+"What has happened--is she dead?"
+
+"Don't know; get her to bed." But Eva's hands trembled too much to move
+them, so the old Scotch shepherd pushed her aside, muttering, "Yer
+feckless as yer bonny; get out of the way." Tenderly his rough hands
+cared for the little one, undressing and laying her in her bed.
+
+"She's always after the chickens and things on our place, and I think
+she's had a kick or a fall, for I found her lying in a paddock."
+
+"Where were you, Eva? Hadn't you missed Babs? I thought at any rate she
+would be safe with you," said her father.
+
+Eva's remorse was real. Her mother dying, perhaps, the children
+entrusted to her, and she--wrapped up in herself and her own
+grievances--what use was she in the world? But oh! if Babs were only
+spared how different she would be! If she died, Eva told herself, she
+would never be happy again.
+
+She went downstairs wretched and helpless, and once more found Jessie
+Meadows in possession of the kitchen. "How is Babs?"
+
+"Conscious, I think--but I don't know," and the girl buried her face and
+wept passionately.
+
+"There, there, Eva, we've all got to learn lessons, and some are mighty
+hard. Take life as you find it, and don't make trouble. The change was a
+big one, I know, but you'll find warm hearts and willing hands wherever
+men and women are. I just brought over a pie and a few cakes I found in
+my pantry----"
+
+"I can't accept them after being so rude."
+
+[Sidenote: A Short Memory]
+
+"Were you rude, dear? A short memory is an advantage sometimes. But
+we'll kiss and be friends, as the children say, and I will take turns
+with you in nursing Babs."
+
+What Eva would have done without the capable woman would be hard to say,
+for the child lay on the borders of the spirit land for weeks. When the
+crisis was past her first words were, "Evie, Evie!" and never before had
+Eva listened with such joy and thankfulness to her name. The child could
+not bear her out of sight; "pretty sister" was doctor, nurse, and mother
+in one. Unwearied in care, and patient with the whims of the little
+one, she was a treasure to her father, whose harassed face began to wear
+a happier expression.
+
+"I have great news to tell," he began one evening when, with Babs in his
+arms and the boys hanging around in their usual fashion, they were
+sitting together after tea.
+
+"Tell, tell!" shouted the audience; but the doctor shook his head, while
+his eyes rested on Eva.
+
+"Is it about mother?" she whispered, and he nodded.
+
+"Mother is well, and coming home."
+
+"Mother's coming back!" was echoed throughout the house to the
+accompaniment of a war dance of three excited kangaroos until sleep
+closed all eyes.
+
+[Illustration: MRS. MEADOWS' BROTHER ARRIVED.]
+
+The day of the arrival was memorable in many ways to the young girl. In
+the morning came an invitation to sing at a concert, an hour later Mrs.
+Meadows' brother arrived, laden with good things for the returning
+invalid, and with a letter from an editor in Wellington, which brought a
+flush of delighted surprise to Eva's face.
+
+Mrs. Meadows herself came over later.
+
+"The editor is a friend of mine, Eva," she said; "and in rescuing a
+story of yours from Jack, I found him a contributor. Not for what you
+have done, but for what I'm certain you can do if you will write of life
+and not sentimental rubbish. You are not offended, are you?"
+
+Eva's eyes glistened. "Offended with _you_--_you_ who have laden me with
+kindness, and helped me to find all that is worth having in life! I have
+learned now to see myself with other eyes than my own."
+
+Eva's doubts were set to rest once and for ever when she saw the frail
+mother she had really forgotten, and felt her arms around her as she
+said, "My daughter--thank Heaven for such a treasure!"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Rosette was a girl of singular resolution. Through what
+perils she passed unscathed this story will tell.]
+
+Rosette in Peril
+
+A Story of the War of La Vendee
+
+BY
+
+M. LEFUSE
+
+
+A loud knocking sounded at the door.
+
+"Jean Paulet," cried a voice, "how much longer am I to stand and knock?
+Unbar the door!"
+
+"Why, it is Monsieur de Marigny!" exclaimed the farmer, and hurried to
+let his visitor in.
+
+"Ah, Jean Paulet! You are no braver than when I saw you last!" laughed
+the tall man who entered, wrapped in a great cloak that fell in many
+folds. "I see you have not joined those who fight for freedom, but have
+kept peacefully to your farm. 'Tis a comfortable thing to play the
+coward in these days! And I would that you would give a little of the
+comfort to this small comrade of mine." From beneath the shelter of his
+cloak a childish face peered out at the farmer and his wife.
+
+"Ah, Monsieur! that is certainly your little Rosette!" exclaimed Madame
+Paulet. "Yes, yes, I have heard of her--how you adopted the poor little
+one when her father was dead of a bullet and her mother of grief and
+exposure; and how, since, you have loved and cared for her and kept her
+ever at your side!"
+
+"Well, that is finished. We are on the eve of a great battle--God grant
+us victory!" he said reverently--"and I have brought the little one to
+you to pray you guard and shelter her till I return again. What, Jean
+Paulet! You hesitate? Before this war I was a good landlord to you. Will
+you refuse this favour to me now?" asked de Marigny, looking sternly
+down on the farmer from his great height.
+
+"I--I do not say that I refuse--but I am a poor defenceless man; 'tis a
+dangerous business to shelter rebels--ah, pardon! loyalists--in these
+times!" stammered Jean Paulet.
+
+"No more dangerous than serving both sides! Some among this republic's
+officers would give much to know who betrayed them, once, not long ago.
+You remember, farmer? What if _I_ told tales?" asked de Marigny grimly.
+
+"Eh! but you will not!" exclaimed the terrified man. "No, no! I am safe
+in your hands; you are a man of honour, Monsieur--and the child shall
+stay! Yes, yes; for your sake!"
+
+De Marigny caught up Rosette and kissed her. "Sweetheart, you must stay
+here in safety. What? You are 'not afraid to go'? No, but I am afraid to
+take you, little one. Ah, vex me not by crying; I will soon come to you
+again!" He took a step towards the farmer. "Jean Paulet, I leave my
+treasure in your hands. If aught evil happen to her, I think I should go
+mad with grief," he said slowly. "And a madman is dangerous, my friend;
+he is apt to be unreasonable, to disbelieve excuses, and to shoot those
+whom he fancies have betrayed him! So pray you that I find Rosette in
+safety when I come again. Farewell!"
+
+But before he disappeared into the night, he turned smiling to the
+child. "Farewell, little one. In the brighter days I will come for thee
+again. Forget me not!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Round Jean Paulet's door one bright afternoon clustered a troop of the
+republican soldiers, eyeing indolently the perspiring farmer as he ran
+to and fro with water for their horses, and sweetening his labours with
+scraps of the latest news.
+
+"He, Paulet," suddenly asked the corporal, "hast heard anything of the
+rebel General Marigny?"
+
+"No!" replied the farmer hurriedly. "What should I hear? Is he still
+alive?"
+
+"Yes, curse him! So, too, is that wretched girl, daughter of a vile
+aristocrat, that he saved from starvation. Bah! as if starving was not
+too good a death for her! But there is a price set on Marigny, and a
+reward would be given for the child too. So some one will soon betray
+them, and then--why, we will see if they had not rather have starved!"
+he said ferociously.
+
+"I--I have heard this Marigny is a brave man," observed the farmer
+timidly.
+
+"That is why we want the child! There is nothing would humble him save
+perchance to find he could not save the child he loves from torture. Ha!
+ha! we shall have a merry time then!"
+
+"Doubtless this Marigny is no friend to the republic," said the farmer
+hesitatingly.
+
+The corporal laughed noisily as he gathered up his horse's reins. "Head
+and front of this insurrection--an accursed rebel! But he shall pay for
+it, he shall pay; and so will all those fools who have helped him!"
+
+And the little band of soldiers rode away, shouting and jesting, leaving
+Jean Paulet with a heart full of fear.
+
+With trembling fingers he pushed open the house door, and, stepping into
+the kitchen, found Rosette crouched beneath the open window. "Heard you
+what they said--that they are seeking for you?" he gasped.
+
+Rosette nodded. "They have done that this long time," she observed
+coolly.
+
+[Sidenote: "They must find You!"]
+
+"But--but--some time they must find you!" he stammered.
+
+Rosette laughed. "Perhaps--if I become as stupid a coward as Jean
+Paulet."
+
+The farmer frowned. "I am no coward--I am an experienced man. And I tell
+you--I, with the weight of forty years behind me--that they will find
+you some time."
+
+"And I tell you--I," mimicked Rosette saucily, "with the weight of my
+twelve years behind me--that I have lived through so many perils, I
+should be able to live through another!"
+
+"'Tis just that!" said the farmer angrily. "You have no prudence; you
+take too many risks; you expose yourself to fearful dangers." He
+shuddered.
+
+"What you fear is that I shall expose you," returned Rosette cheerfully.
+"He, well! a man can but die once, Farmer Paulet."
+
+"That is just it!" exclaimed the farmer vivaciously. "If I had six lives
+I should not mind dying five times; but having only the one, I cannot
+afford to lose it! And, besides, I have my wife to think of."
+
+Rosette meditated a moment. "Better late than never, Farmer Paulet. I
+have heard tell you never thought of that before." The sharp little face
+softened. "She is a good woman, your wife!"
+
+"True, true! She is a good woman, and you would not care for her to be
+widowed. Consider if it would not be better if I placed you in safety
+elsewhere."
+
+"Jean Paulet! Jean Paulet!" mocked Rosette; "I doubt if I should do your
+wife a kindness if I saved your skin."
+
+Jean Paulet wagged a forefinger at her angrily. "You will come to a bad
+end with a tongue like that! If it were not for the respect I owe to
+Monsieur de Marigny----"
+
+"Marigny's pistol!" interrupted Rosette.
+
+"Ah, bah! What is to prevent my abandoning you?" asked the farmer
+furiously.
+
+Rosette swung her bare legs thoughtfully. "Papa Marigny is a man of his
+word--and you lack five of your half-dozen lives, Jean Paulet."
+
+"See you it is dangerous!" returned her protector desperately. "My wife
+she is not here to advise me; she is in the fields----"
+
+"I have noticed she works hard," murmured Rosette.
+
+[Sidenote: To the Uplands!]
+
+"And I will not keep you here. But for the respect I owe Monsieur de
+Marigny, I am willing to sacrifice something. I have a dozen of sheep in
+the field down there--ah! la, la! they represent a lifetime's savings,
+but I will sacrifice them for my safety--no, no; for Monsieur de
+Marigny, I mean!" he wailed. "You shall drive them to the uplands and
+stay there out of danger. I do not think you will meet with soldiers;
+but if you do, at the worst they will only take a sheep--ah! my sheep!"
+he broke off distressfully. "Now do not argue. Get you gone before my
+wife returns. See, I will put a little food in this handkerchief. There,
+you may tell Monsieur de Marigny I have been loyal to him. Go, go! and,
+above all, remember never to come near me again, or say those sheep are
+mine. You will be safe, quite safe."
+
+Rosette laughed. "You have a kind heart, Jean Paulet," she mocked. "But
+I think perhaps you are right. You are too much of a poltroon to be a
+safe comrade in adversity."
+
+She sprang from her chair and ran to the doorway. Then she looked back.
+"Hark you, Jean Paulet! This price upon my head--it is a fine price, he?
+Well, I am little, but I have a tongue, and _I know what my papa de
+Marigny knows_. Ah! the fine tale to tell, if they catch us! Eh?
+Farewell."
+
+She ran lightly across the yard, pausing a moment when a yellow mongrel
+dog leaped up and licked her chin. "He, Gegi, you love me better than
+your master does!" she said, stooping to pat his rough coat. "And you do
+not love your master any better than I do, eh? Why, then you had better
+keep sheep too! There is a brave idea. Come, Gegi, come!" And together
+they ran off through the sunshine.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was very cold that autumn up on the higher lands, very cold and very
+lonely.
+
+Also several days had passed since Rosette had ventured down to the
+nearest friendly farm to seek for food, and her little store of
+provisions was nearly finished.
+
+"You and I must eat, Gegi. Stay with the sheep, little one, while I go
+and see if I can reach some house in safety." And, the yellow mongrel
+offering no objection, Rosette started.
+
+She was not the only person in La Vendee who lacked food. Thousands of
+loyal peasants starved, and the republican soldiers themselves were not
+too plentifully supplied. Certainly they grumbled bitterly sometimes, as
+did that detachment of them who sheltered themselves from the keen wind
+under the thick hedge that divided the rough road leading to La
+Plastiere from the fields.
+
+"Bah! we live like pigs in these days!" growled one of the men.
+
+"It is nothing," said another. "Think what we shall get at La Plastiere!
+The village has a few fat farmers, who have escaped pillaging so far by
+the love they bore, as they said, to the good republic. But that is
+ended: once we have caught this rascal Marigny in their midst, we can
+swear they are not good republicans."
+
+"But," objected the first speaker, "they may say they knew nothing of
+this Marigny hiding in the chateau!"
+
+"They may say so--but we need not believe them!" returned his companion.
+
+"Ah, bah! I would believe or not believe anything, so long as it brought
+us a good meal! How long before we reach this village, comrade?"
+
+"Till nightfall. We would not have Marigny watch our coming. This time
+we will make sure of the scoundrel."
+
+Rosette, standing hidden behind the hedge, clenched her hands tightly at
+the word. She would have given much to have flung it back at the man,
+but prudence suggested it would be better to be discreet and help
+Marigny. She turned and ran along under the hedge, and away back to
+where she had left her little flock, her bare feet falling noiselessly
+on the damp ground.
+
+"Ah, Gegi!" she panted, flinging herself beside the yellow mongrel, "the
+soldiers are very near, and they are going to surprise my beloved papa
+de Marigny. What must we do, Gegi, you and I, to save him?"
+
+Gegi rolled sharply on to his back and lay staring up at the skies as if
+he was considering the question. Rosette rested her chin on her drawn-up
+knees and thought fiercely. She knew in what direction lay the chateau
+of La Plastiere, and she knew that to reach it she must cross the
+countryside, and cross, too, in full view of the soldiers below; or
+else--and that was the shorter way--go along the road by which they
+encamped.
+
+Rosette frowned. If they spied her skulking in the distance, they would
+probably conclude she carried a message that might be valuable to them
+and pursue her. If she walked right through them? Bah! Would they know
+it was Rosette--Rosette, for whose capture a fine reward would be given?
+
+She did not look much like an aristocrat's child, she thought, glancing
+at her bare brown legs and feet, and her stained, torn blue frock. Her
+dark, matted curls were covered with a crimson woollen cap--her every
+garment would have been suitable for a peasant child's wear; and Rosette
+was conscious that her size was more like that of a child of seven than
+that of one of twelve. She had passed unknown through many
+soldiers--would these have a more certain knowledge of her?
+
+[Sidenote: "How am I to Settle it?"]
+
+"Oh, Gegi!" she sighed; "how am I to settle it?"
+
+Gegi wagged his tail rapidly and encouragingly, but offered no further
+help.
+
+If she went across country the way was longer far, and there was a big
+risk. If she went near those soldiers and was known, why, risk would
+become a certainty. That Death would stare into her face then, none
+knew better than Rosette; but Death was also very near Rosette's beloved
+de Marigny, the man who had cared for her and loved her with all the
+warmth of his big, generous heart.
+
+"Ah! if my papa de Marigny dies, I may as well die too, Gegi," she
+whispered wearily. The yellow mongrel cocked one ear with a rather
+doubtful expression. "Well, we must take the risk. If papa de Marigny is
+to live, you and I, Gegi, must take him warning!" Rosette cried,
+springing to her feet; and Gegi signified his entire approval in a
+couple of short barks. "I will take the sheep," his little mistress
+murmured; "'tis slower, but they will be so pleased to see them. Poor
+Jean Paulet!" she thought, with a faint smile.
+
+Gegi bounded lightly through a gap in the hedge, and dashed up to the
+soldiers inquisitively. With an oath, one of the men hurled a stone at
+him, which Gegi easily dodged, and another man stretched out his hand
+for his musket.
+
+"There are worse flavours than dog's meat," he observed coolly. "Come,
+little beast, you shall finish your life gloriously, nourishing soldiers
+of the republic!" He placed his gun in position.
+
+"He! you leave my dog alone!" called Rosette sharply, as she stepped
+into the roadway. "He has the right to live," she added, as she moved
+jauntily up to them. Her pert little face showed nothing of the anguish
+in her heart.
+
+"Not if I want him for my supper," observed the soldier, grinning at his
+comrades, who changed their position to obtain a better view of the
+coming sport.
+
+"But you do not," corrected Rosette. "If you need to eat dog, search for
+the dog of an accursed fugitive!"
+
+The men laughed. "How do we know this is not one?" they asked.
+
+"I will show you. He, Gegi!" she called, and the dog came and sat in
+front of her. "Listen, Gegi. Would you bark for a monarchy?" The yellow
+mongrel glanced round him indifferently. "Gegi!" his mistress called
+imperiously, "do you cheer for the glorious republic?" And for answer,
+Gegi flung up his head and barked.
+
+"You see?" asked Rosette, turning to the grinning man. "He is your
+brother, that little dog. And you may not eat your brother, you know,"
+she added gravely.
+
+[Sidenote: "Whose Sheep are those?"]
+
+"He, by the Mass! whose sheep are those?" cried a soldier suddenly.
+
+"They are mine, or rather they are my master's; I am taking them back to
+the farm."
+
+"Why, then, we will spare you the trouble. I hope they, too, are not
+good republicans," he jested.
+
+"I have called them after your great leaders--but they do not always
+answer to their names," Rosette assured him seriously.
+
+"Then they are only worthy to be executed. Your knife, comrade," cried
+one of the men, jumping to his feet. "What, more of them! Six, seven,
+eight," he counted, as the sheep came through the gap. "Why, 'twill be
+quite a massacre of traitors."
+
+"Oh, please! you cannot eat them all! Leave me some, that I may drive
+back with me, else my master will beat me!" implored Rosette, beginning
+to fear that her chances of passing towards the far distant village were
+lessening.
+
+"Your master! Who is your master?"
+
+"He is a farmer down there," nodding vaguely as she spoke.
+
+"Hark you! Have you by any chance seen a man bigger than the average
+skulking thereabouts?"
+
+She shook her head. "There are few big men round here--none so fine as
+you!" she said prettily.
+
+The man gave a proud laugh. "Ah! we of Paris are a fine race."
+
+Rosette nodded. "My Master is a good republican. You will let me take
+him back the sheep," she coaxed.
+
+"Why, those that remain," the soldier replied, with a grin. "Sho! sho!
+Those that run you can follow. Ah, behold!" Rosette needed no second
+bidding, but started after the remnant of her little troop.
+
+"He!" called one of the soldiers to his comrades--and the wind bore the
+words to Rosette--"you are fools to let that child pass! For aught we
+know, she may be spying for the rebels."
+
+As the men stared after her irresolute, Rosette slackened her pace,
+flung up her head, and in her clear childish treble began to sing that
+ferocious chant, then at the height of its popularity, which is now the
+national hymn of France. So singing, she walked steadily down the long
+road, hopeful that she might yet save the man who was a father to her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was almost dusk outside the desolate, half-ruined chateau of La
+Plastiere. Within its walls the shadows of night were already thickly
+gathered--shadows so dark that a man might have lurked unseen in them.
+Some such thought came to Rosette as she stood hesitating in the great
+hall. How silent the place was! The only noises came from without--the
+wind sobbing strangely in the garden, the ghostly rustling of the
+leaves, the moan of the dark, swift river. Ah! there was something
+moving in the great hall! What was it? A rat dashed by, close to
+Rosette's feet; then the hall settled again into unbroken silence.
+
+The child's heart beat quickly. She hated, feared, the shadows and the
+quiet.
+
+Yet she must go forward; she dare not call aloud, and she must find de
+Marigny, if, indeed, he was still there.
+
+She groped her way to the broad stone stairs. How dark it was! She
+glanced up fearfully. Surely something up above her in the shadow on the
+stairway moved. She shrank back.
+
+"Coward! little coward!" she muttered. And to scare away her fear she
+began to sing softly, very softly, a tender little song de Marigny
+himself had taught to her.
+
+"Stay thy hand, man! It is Rosette!" cried a voice from above her,
+shattering the silence. And the shadow that had moved before moved
+again, and a man from crouching on the step rose suddenly in front of
+her.
+
+"Why did you not speak? I thought we were like to be discovered, and I
+had nearly killed you. Curse this dark!"
+
+"Hush!" whispered Rosette. "Hush! you are betrayed! The soldiers are
+coming. Oh, Papa de Marigny," she murmured, as he came down the
+stairway, "they are to be here at dusk. Is it too late? I tried to get
+here sooner, but--it was such a long road!" she ended, with a sob.
+
+De Marigny gathered her in his arms. "And such a little traveller! Never
+mind, sweetheart, we will cheat them yet," he said tenderly. "Warn the
+others, Lacroix!"
+
+[Sidenote: Flight]
+
+But Lacroix had done that already. The house was full now of stealthy
+sounds and moving shadows descending the great staircase. De Marigny,
+carrying Rosette, led the way across the garden behind the house,
+towards the river that cut the countryside in half. The stillness of the
+night was broken suddenly by the neighing of a not far distant horse.
+
+"The soldiers! the rebels, papa!" cried Rosette.
+
+De Marigny whispered softly to one of his companions, who ran swiftly
+away from him, and busied himself drawing from its hiding-place a small
+boat. They could hear the tramp of horses now, near, very near, and yet
+the men seated silent in the boat held tightly to the bank.
+
+Hark! The thud, thud of running footsteps came to Rosette, nearer,
+nearer, and the man for whom they waited sprang from the bank into their
+midst.
+
+A moment later they were caught by the swift current and carried out
+into the centre of the broad river.
+
+"Now, if my plan does not miscarry, we are safe!" cried de Marigny
+exultantly.
+
+"But, papa, dear one, they will follow us across the river and stop our
+landing!" cried Rosette anxiously.
+
+De Marigny chuckled. "Providentially the river flows too fast, little
+one, for man or horse to ford it. The bridge yonder in the field is the
+only way to cross the river for many miles. And I do not think they will
+try the bridge, for I was not so foolish as not to prepare for a
+surprise visit many days ago. Look, little one!" he added suddenly.
+
+Rosette held her breath as away up the river a great flame streamed up
+through the darkness, followed by a loud explosion, and she saw
+fragments of wood hurled like playthings high into the air. Some, as
+they fell again to earth, turned into blazing torches. For far around
+trees and hedges showed distinctly; the gleaming river, the garden, and
+the chateau stood out clear in the flaming light.
+
+Round the chateau tore two or three frightened, plunging horses, and the
+desperate gestures of their riders could easily be seen by Rosette for a
+moment before their craft was hidden by a turn in the river bank.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Monsieur de Marigny rejoined the loyalists across the river, and,
+animated by his presence, the struggle against the republic was resumed
+with great firmness.
+
+Whenever de Marigny rode among his peasant soldiers, he, their idol, was
+greeted with many a lively cheer, which yet grew louder and more joyful
+when he carried before him on his horse Rosette, the brave child who had
+saved their leader's life at the risk of her own.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A few plain hints to the teachable.]
+
+Golf for Girls
+
+BY
+
+AN OLD STAGER
+
+
+I veil my identity because I am not a girl--old or young. Being, indeed,
+a mere man, it becomes me to offer advice with modesty.
+
+And, of course, in the matter of golf, women--many of them no more than
+girls--play so well that men cannot affect any assurance of superiority.
+On my own course I sometimes come upon a middle-aged married couple
+playing with great contentment a friendly game. The wife always drives
+the longer ball, and upon most occasions manages to give her husband a
+few strokes and a beating.
+
+However, I did not start out to write a disquisition on women as
+golfers, but only to offer some hints on golf for girls.
+
+And first, as to making a start.
+
+The best way is the way that is not possible to everybody. No girl plays
+golf so naturally or so well as the girl who learned it young; who,
+armed with a light cleek or an iron, wandered around the links in
+company with her small brothers almost as soon as she was big enough to
+swing a club. Such a girl probably had the advantage of seeing the game
+played well by her elders, and she would readily learn to imitate their
+methods. Of course, very young learners may and do pick up bad habits;
+but a little good advice will soon correct these if the learner is at
+all keen on the game.
+
+A girl who grows up under these conditions--and many do in
+Scotland--does not need any hints from me. She starts under ideal
+conditions, and ought to make the most of them. Others begin at a later
+age, with fewer advantages, and perhaps without much help to be got at
+home.
+
+How, then, to begin. Be sure of one thing: you cannot learn to play golf
+out of your own head, or even by an intelligent study of books on the
+subject. For, if you try, you will do wrong and yet be unable to say
+_what_ you are doing wrong. In that you will not be peculiar. Many an
+experienced golfer will suddenly pick up a fault. After a few bad
+strokes he knows he is wrong somewhere, but may not be able to spot the
+particular defect. Perhaps a kindly disposed opponent--who knows his
+disposition, for not everybody will welcome or take advice--tells him;
+and then in a stroke or two he puts the thing right. So you need a
+teacher.
+
+Generally speaking, a professional is the best teacher, because he has
+had the most experience in instruction. But professionals vary greatly
+in teaching capacity, and cannot be expected in every case to take the
+same interest in a pupil's progress that a friend may. If you are to
+have the help of a relative or friend, try to get competent help. There
+_are_ well-meaning persons whose instruction had better be shunned as
+the plague.
+
+Let your teacher choose your clubs for you, and, in any case, do not
+make the mistake of fitting yourself up at first either with too many
+clubs or with clubs too heavy for you.
+
+[Illustration: A BREEZY MORNING]
+
+As to first steps in learning, I am disposed to think that an old-time
+method, by which young people learned first to use _one_ club with
+some skill and confidence before going on to another, was a good one. In
+that case they would begin with a cleek or an iron before using the
+driver.
+
+The learner should give great attention to some first principles. Let
+her note the _grip_ she is told to use. Very likely it will seem to her
+uncomfortable, and not at all the most convenient way of holding a club
+in order to hit a ball; but it is the result of much experience, and has
+not been arbitrarily chosen for her especial discomfort.
+
+In like manner the stance, or way of standing when making a stroke, must
+be noted carefully and copied exactly. In private practice defy the
+inward tempter which suggests that you can do much better in some other
+way. Don't, above all, allow yourself to think that you will hit the
+ball more surely if you stand farther behind it--not even if you have
+seen your brother tee a ball away to the left of his left foot and still
+get a long shot.
+
+[Sidenote: "Keep your Eye on the Ball"]
+
+Don't think that the perpetual injunction, "Keep your eye on the ball,"
+is an irritating formula with little reason behind it. It is, as a
+matter of fact, a law quite as much for your teacher as for yourself.
+And don't suppose that you _have_ kept your eye on the ball because you
+think you have. It is wonderful how easy it is to keep your eye
+glued--so to speak--to the ball until the very half-second when that
+duty is most important and then to lift the head, spoiling the shot. If
+you can persuade yourself to look at the ball all through the stroke,
+and to look at the spot where the ball was even after the ball is away,
+you will find that you not only hit the ball satisfactorily but that it
+flies straighter than you had hitherto found it willing to do. When you
+are getting on, and begin to have some satisfaction with yourself, then
+remember that this maxim still requires as close observance as ever. If
+you find yourself off your game--such as it is--ask yourself at once,
+"Am I keeping my eye on the ball?" And don't be in a hurry to assume
+that you were.
+
+Always bear in mind, too, that you want to hit the ball with a kind of
+combined motion, which is to include the swing of your body. You are not
+there to use your arms only. If you begin young, you will, I expect,
+find little difficulty in this. It is, to older players, quite amazing
+how readily a youngster will fall into a swing that is the embodiment of
+grace and ease.
+
+Putting is said by some to be not an art but an inspiration. Perhaps
+that is why ladies take so readily to it. On the green a girl is at no
+disadvantage with a boy. But remember that there is no ordinary stroke
+over which care pays so well as the putt; and that there is no stroke in
+which carelessness can be followed by such humiliating disaster. Don't
+think it superfluous to examine the line of a putt; and don't, on any
+account, suppose that, because the ball is near the hole, you are bound
+to run it down.
+
+Forgive me for offering a piece of advice which ought to be superfluous
+and is not. I have sometimes found ladies most culpably careless in the
+matter of divots. It is a fundamental rule that, if in playing you cut
+out a piece of turf, you or your caddy should replace it. Never, under
+any circumstances, neglect this rule or allow your caddy to neglect it.
+Nobody who consistently neglects this rule ought to be allowed on any
+course.
+
+A word as to clothing. I _have_ seen ladies playing in hats that rather
+suggested the comparative repose of a croquet lawn on a hot summer's
+day. But of course you only want good sense as your guide in this
+matter. Ease without eccentricity should be your aim. Remember, too,
+that whilst men like to play golf in old clothes, and often have a kind
+of superstitious regard for some disgracefully old and dirty jacket, a
+girl must not follow their example. Be sure, in any case, that your
+boots or shoes are strong and water-tight.
+
+[Sidenote: Keep your Heart up!]
+
+Finally, keep your heart up! Golf is a game of moods and vagaries. It is
+hard to say why one plays well one day and badly another; well, perhaps,
+when in bad health, and badly when as fit as possible; well, perhaps,
+when you have started expecting nothing, and badly when you have felt
+that you could hit the ball over the moon. Why one may play well for
+three weeks and then go to pieces; why one will go off a particular club
+and suddenly do wonders with a club neglected; why on certain days
+everything goes well--any likely putt running down, every ball kicking
+the right way, every weak shot near a hazard scrambling out of danger,
+every difficult shot coming off; and why on other days every shot that
+can go astray will go astray--these are mysteries which no man can
+fathom. But they add to the infinite variety of the game; only requiring
+that you should have inexhaustible patience and hope as part of your
+equipment. And patience is a womanly virtue.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A mere oversight nearly wrecked two lives. Happily the
+mistake was discovered before remedy had become impossible.]
+
+Sunny Miss Martyn
+
+A Christmas Story
+
+BY
+
+SOMERVILLE GIBNEY
+
+
+"Goodbye, Miss Martyn, and a merry Christmas to you!"
+
+"Goodbye, Miss Martyn; how glad you must be to get rid of us all! But I
+shall remember you on Christmas Day."
+
+"Goodbye, dear Miss Martyn; I hope you won't feel dull. We shall all
+think of you and wish you were with us, I know. A very happy Christmas
+to you."
+
+"The same to you, my dears, and many of them. Goodbye, goodbye; and,
+mind, no nonsense at the station. I look to you, Lesbia, to keep the
+others in order."
+
+"Trust me, Miss Martyn; we'll be very careful."
+
+"I really think I ought to have gone with you and seen you safely off,
+and----"
+
+"No, no, no--you may really trust us. We've all of us travelled before,
+and we will behave, honour bright!"
+
+[Sidenote: Off for the Holidays]
+
+And with a further chorus of farewells and Christmas wishes, the six or
+seven girls, varying in age from twelve to seventeen, who had been
+taking their places in the station 'bus, waved their hands and blew
+kisses through the windows as the door slammed, and it rolled down the
+drive of Seaton Lodge over the crisp, hard-frozen snow. And more and
+more indistinct grew the merry farewells, till the gate was reached, and
+the conveyance turning into the lane, the noisy occupants were hidden
+from sight and hearing to the kindly-faced, smiling lady, who, with a
+thick shawl wrapped about her shoulders, stood watching its departure on
+the hall steps.
+
+For some moments longer she remained silent, immovable, her eyes
+directed towards the distant gate. But her glance went far beyond. It
+had crossed the gulf of many years, and was searching the land of "Never
+More."
+
+At length the look on her face changed, and with a sigh she turned on
+her heel and re-entered the house.
+
+And how strangely silent it had suddenly become! It no longer rang with
+the joyous young voices that had echoed through it that morning,
+revelling in the freedom of the commencement of the Christmas holidays.
+
+Selina Martyn heaved another sigh; she missed her young charges; her
+resident French governess had left the previous day for her home at
+Neuilly; and now, with the exception of the servants, she had the house
+to herself, and she hated it.
+
+A feeling of depression was on her, but she fought against it; there was
+much to be done. Christmas would be on her in a couple of days, and no
+sooner would that be passed than the bills would pour in; and in order
+to satisfy them her own accounts must go out. Then there were all the
+rooms to be put straight, for schoolgirls are by no means the most tidy
+of beings. She had plenty of work before her, and she faced it.
+
+But evening came at last, and found her somewhat weary after her late
+dinner, and disinclined to do anything more, except sit in front of the
+blazing fire in her own little room and dream. Outside, the frost
+continued sharper than ever, and faintly there came to her ear the
+sounds of the distant bells practising for the coming festival, and once
+more for the second time that day her thoughts flew backwards over the
+mist of years.
+
+She was a lonely old woman, she told herself; and so she was, as far as
+relatives went, but miserable she was not. She was as bright and sunny
+as many of us, and a great deal more so than some. Her life had had its
+ups and downs, its bright and dark hours; but she had learnt to dwell on
+the former and put the latter in the background, hiding them under the
+mercies she had received; and so she became to be known in Stourton as
+"sunny Miss Martyn," and no name could have been more applicable.
+
+And as the flames roared up the chimney this winter night, she thought
+of the young hearts that had left her that morning and of their
+happiness that first night at home. She had known what that was herself.
+She had been a schoolgirl once--a schoolgirl in this very house, and had
+left it as they had left it that morning to return to a loving home. Her
+father had been well off in those days; she was his only child, and all
+he had to care for, her mother dying at her birth. They had been all in
+all to each other, and the days of her girlhood were the brightest of
+her life.
+
+He missed his "little sunbeam," as he called her, when she was away at
+Seaton Lodge--for it was called Seaton Lodge even then; but they made up
+for the separation when the holidays came and they were together once
+more, and more especially at Christmas-time, that season of parties and
+festivities. Mr. Martyn was a hospitable man, and his entertainments
+were many, and his neighbours and friends were not slow in returning
+his kindnesses; so that Christmas-time was a dream of excitement and
+delight as far as Selina was concerned.
+
+[Sidenote: A Bank Failure]
+
+But a break came to those happy times: a joint stock bank, in which Mr.
+Martyn had invested, failed, and he was ruined. The shock was more than
+his somewhat weak heart could stand, and it killed him.
+
+His daughter was just sixteen at the time, and the head pupil at Seaton
+Lodge. She was going to leave at the end of the half-year; but now all
+was changed. Instead of returning home to be mistress of her father's
+house, she would have to work for her living, and the opportunity for
+doing so came more quickly than she had dared to hope.
+
+With Miss Clayton, the mistress, she had been a favourite from the first
+day she had entered the school, and the former now made her the offer of
+remaining on as a pupil teacher. Without hesitation the girl accepted.
+She had no relatives; Seaton Lodge was her second home; she was loved
+there, and she would not be dependent; and from that hour never had she
+to regret her decision.
+
+When her father's affairs were settled up there remained but a few
+pounds a year for her, but these she was able to put by, for Miss
+Clayton was no niggard towards those that served her, and Selina
+received sufficient salary for clothes and pocket-money.
+
+After the first agony of the shock had passed away, her life was a happy
+if a quiet one. Her companions all loved her; she was to them a friend
+rather than a governess, and few were the holidays when she did not
+receive more than one invitation to spend part of them at the homes of
+some of her pupil friends.
+
+She had been a permanent resident at Seaton Lodge some three years when
+the romance of her life took place.
+
+Among the elder pupils at that time was Maude Elliott, whose father's
+house was not many miles distant from her friend's former home. She had
+taken a great fancy to Selina, and on several occasions had carried her
+off to spend a portion of the holidays with her, and it was at her home
+that she had made the acquaintance of Edgar Freeman, Maude's cousin. A
+young mining engineer, he had spent some years in Newfoundland, and had
+returned to complete his studies for his full diploma at the School of
+Mines, spending such time as he could spare at his uncle's house.
+
+Almost before she was aware of it, he had made a prisoner of the lonely
+little pupil-teacher's heart, and when she was convinced of the fact she
+fought against it, deeming herself a traitor to her friend, to whom she
+imagined he was attached, mistaking cousinly affection for something
+warmer.
+
+Then came that breaking-up for the Christmas holidays which she
+remembered so well, when she was to have followed Maude in a few days to
+her home, where she and Edgar would once more be together; and then the
+great disappointment when, two days before she was to have started, Miss
+Clayton was taken ill with pneumonia, and she had to stay and nurse her.
+
+How well she remembered that terrible time! It was the most dreary
+Christmas she had ever experienced--mild, dull, and sloppy, the rain
+falling by the hour, and fog blurring everything outside the house,
+while added to this was the anxiety she felt for the invalid.
+
+Christmas Day was the worst of the whole time; outside everything was
+wet and dripping, and even indoors the air felt raw and chilly,
+penetrating to the bones, and resulting in a continual state of shivers.
+There was no bright Christmas service for Selina that morning: she must
+remain at home and look after her charge, for, save the invalid, the
+servants and herself, the house was empty.
+
+But there was one glad moment for her--the arrival of the postman. He
+was late, of course, but when he did come he brought her a budget of
+letters and parcels that convinced her she was not forgotten by her
+absent schoolgirl friends. With a hasty glance over them, she put them
+on one side until after dinner, when, her patient having been seen to,
+she would have a certain amount of time to herself.
+
+But that one glance had been sufficient to bring a flush of pleasure to
+her cheeks, and to invest the gloomy day with a happiness that before
+was absent. She had recognised on one envelope an address in a bold,
+firm writing, very different from the neat, schoolgirl caligraphy of the
+rest; and when her hour of leisure arrived, and over a roaring fire she
+was able to examine her presents and letters, this one big envelope was
+reserved to the last.
+
+[Sidenote: Romance]
+
+Her fingers trembled as she opened the still damp covering, and saw a
+large card with a raised satin medallion in the centre, on which were
+printed two verses, the words of which caused the hot colour to remount
+to her cheeks, and her heart to redouble its beats.
+
+There was no mistaking the meaning of those lines; love breathed from
+every letter, and, with a hasty look round to make sure she was alone,
+the happy girl pressed the inanimate paper, satin, printer's ink, and
+colours to her lips as though in answer to the message it contained.
+
+The feeling of loneliness had vanished; there was some one who loved
+her, to whom she was dearer than all others, and the world looked
+different in consequence. It was a happy Christmas Day to her after all,
+in spite of her depressing surroundings; and Miss Clayton noticed the
+change in her young nurse, and in the evening, when thanking her for all
+she had done for her, hoped she had not found it "so very dull."
+
+That night Selina Martyn, foolish in her new-found happiness, placed the
+envelope, around which the damp still hung, beneath her pillow, and
+dreamed of the bright future she deemed in store for her.
+
+He would write to her, or perhaps come and see her; yes, he would come
+and see her, and let her hear from his own lips what his missive had so
+plainly hinted at. And in her happiness she waited. She waited, and
+waited till her heart grew sick with disappointed longing.
+
+The days passed, but never a word came from the one who had grown so
+dear to her, and as they passed the gladness faded from her face, and
+the light went out from her eyes.
+
+At last she could but feel that she had been mistaken. It was only a
+foolish joke that had meant nothing, and her heart grew hot within her.
+How could she have been so weak and silly as to have imagined such a
+thing? She put the envelope and its contents away, and, saddened and
+subdued, fought bravely to return to her former self.
+
+Miss Clayton made a slow recovery, and when convalescent went for a
+change to the sea, carrying off Selina with her, for she had noticed the
+change in the girl, and put it down to her labours in the sick-room.
+
+School-time commenced again, but without Maude Elliott as a pupil; she
+had gone to be "finished" to a school in Lausanne, and it was months
+before Selina received a letter from her, and then she only casually
+mentioned that her cousin Edgar had left them directly after Christmas
+for a good appointment in Brazil, where he expected to remain for some
+years.
+
+With that letter the last traces of Selina Martyn's romance ended. It
+had crossed her life like a shooting star, and had only left a
+remembrance behind.
+
+But that remembrance never entirely died; its sharp edge was dulled, and
+as the years went on--and in time she took Miss Clayton's place as the
+head of Seaton Lodge--she came to regard the unrequited bestowal of her
+young affections as an incident to be smiled over, without any
+vindictive feelings.
+
+And now, when the silver hairs were beginning to make their appearance
+among the ruddy gold, she would each Christmas take out from its
+hiding-place in the old-fashioned, brass-bound writing-desk the
+time-stained envelope, and compare the old-world design within with the
+modern and more florid cards, and in her heart of hearts she found more
+beauty in the simple wreath of holly with the couple of robins perched
+above and the bunch of mistletoe hanging below than in its more ornate
+followers of the present time.
+
+[Sidenote: Christmas Morning]
+
+It was Christmas morning--an ideal Christmas morning. The frost had been
+keen the previous night, and the branches of the trees had donned a
+sparkling white livery. The sun shone brightly, but there was little
+warmth in its rays, and the snow had crunched and chittered as "sunny
+Miss Martyn" had made her way over it to the church, smiling and sending
+bright glances to right and left of her, for there were few in Stourton
+with whom she was not acquainted. And now, her lunch over--she was going
+out to dinner that evening--she sat by the fire with a big pile of
+envelopes and parcels beside her. Her pupils never forgot her, and the
+day would have seemed incomplete to each one of them without a card
+despatched to Miss Martyn.
+
+Her bundle was a large one, and took some time to get through; and then
+the cards had all to be arranged on the mantelpiece. But at length her
+task was done, and as her custom was, she went to the brass-bound desk
+standing on a table in the corner, and, taking out the now worn
+envelope, resumed her seat by the fire.
+
+She had gazed on its contents on many a Christmas day before, but on
+this particular day--she never knew why--the memory of the sorrow it had
+caused her seemed keener, and she found the tears were gathering in her
+eyes, and that one of them had fallen on the edge of the satin medallion
+bearing the verses.
+
+With her handkerchief she wiped it away, but in doing so a fold of the
+cambric caught the filagree, and she learnt what she had never known
+before--that the medallion opened like a little door, and that below it
+a folded scrap of paper lay concealed.
+
+What could it mean?
+
+With fingers that trembled so much that they almost refused their task
+she took it out, unfolded it, and, spreading it flat, read the words
+that long years ago would have meant all the world to her.
+
+How cruel had Fate been to her to have hidden them for so long! But the
+thought only remained in her mind a moment, being blotted out by the
+remembrance that he was not heartless, as she had grown to believe.
+
+The faded lines before her laid a strong man's heart at her feet, and
+begged for her love in return, stating that he had been suddenly called
+to a distant post, and asking for an answer before he sailed. The writer
+felt he was presumptuous, but the exigencies of the case must be his
+excuse. If he had no reply he should know his pleading was in vain, and
+would trouble her no more; but if, on the other hand, she was not
+entirely indifferent to him, a line from her would bring him to her side
+to plead his cause in person. There was more in the letter, but this was
+its main purpose.
+
+And this was the end of if: two loving hearts divided and kept apart by
+a damp day and an accidental drop of gum.
+
+No wonder the tears flowed afresh, and "sunny Miss Martyn" belied her
+character.
+
+She was still bending over the sheet of paper spread out on her knee
+when, with a knock at the door, the servant entered, saying:
+
+"A gentleman to see you, Miss."
+
+Hastily brushing away the traces from her cheeks, Miss Martyn rose, to
+see a tall, grey-haired man standing in the doorway, regarding her with
+a bright smile on his face.
+
+She did not recognise him; he was a stranger to her, and yet----
+
+The next moment he strode forward with outstretched hand.
+
+"Selina Martyn, don't you know me? And you have altered so little!"
+
+A moment longer she stood in doubt, and then with a little gasp
+exclaimed:
+
+[Sidenote: "Edgar!"]
+
+"Edgar! Mr. Freeman--I--I didn't know you. You--you see, it is so long
+since--since I had that pleasure."
+
+And while she was speaking she was endeavouring with her foot to draw
+out of sight the paper that had fallen from her lap when she had risen.
+
+He noticed her apron, and with an "Excuse me" bent down, and, picking it
+up, laid it on the table. As he did so his eyes fell for a moment on the
+writing, and he started slightly, but did not refer to it.
+
+"Thank you," she said, and her cheeks had suddenly lost their colour,
+and her hand trembled as she indicated an armchair on the other side of
+the fireplace, saying, "Won't you sit down?"
+
+He did so, easily and naturally, as though paying an ordinary afternoon
+call.
+
+"Selina Martyn, you're looking remarkably well, and nearly as young as
+ever," he continued.
+
+She raised her eyes shyly, and smiled as she replied, "Do you really
+think so, Mr. Freeman?"
+
+"Call me Edgar, I like it better; and we've known each other long enough
+to account for your doing so." He did not give her a chance of
+objecting, but continued, "I only landed in England yesterday, and you
+are the first person I've called on. I got your address from my cousin,
+Mrs. Perry--Maud Elliott that was; she's living in Monte Video, you
+know; I saw her for a few hours as I passed through. Really, Selina,
+you're looking prettier than ever, I declare!"
+
+"You mustn't flatter an old woman, Mr. Freeman--well--Edgar, if you wish
+it. I don't think perhaps there is anything unmaidenly in my using your
+Christian name. We've known each other a great many years now, as you
+say."
+
+"We have indeed, my dear lady. And we might have known each other a
+great deal better if--if--well, if you had only seen your way to it. But
+there--that's all passed now. And yet----"
+
+"Yes, that's all passed now." And Selina gave a little sigh, yet loud
+enough for her visitor to hear it, and he moved his chair from the side
+to the front of the fire as she continued, "Do you know--Edgar--just
+before you came in I made a discovery--I found something that reached me
+a day or two before you sailed, and that I had never seen till half an
+hour ago," and she looked down at her fingers that were playing with the
+end of the delicate lace fichu she was wearing.
+
+A smile came over her visitor's face, but he only said:
+
+"'Pon my word, Selina, you're a very beautiful woman! I've carried your
+face in my memory all these years, but I see now how half-blind I must
+have been."
+
+"You mustn't talk nonsense to an old woman like me. I want to tell you
+something, and I don't know how to do it."
+
+"Don't try. Let me guess, and you tell me if I'm right."
+
+Miss Martyn did not answer in words, only bowed her head, and he
+continued, with a glance at the paper lying on the table:
+
+"You once received what you considered a very impertinent letter from
+me?"
+
+"I don't think impertinent is the right term," replied Selina, not
+raising her eyes.
+
+"Then, my dear lady, why did you not let me have an answer?"
+
+"Oh, Edgar, I only discovered it a few minutes before you came," and
+casting aside all reserve, she told him of the unfortunate combination
+of the damp Christmas morning and the drop of gum that had so
+disastrously separated them.
+
+Long before the recital was complete her visitor had shifted his
+chair again and again until it was close beside her own.
+
+"You poor, dear woman!" he exclaimed, as his arm stole quietly round her
+waist, and Miss Martyn suffered it to remain there.
+
+"Why did you hide your letter inside, Edgar?" she asked quietly.
+
+"I suppose because I didn't want to startle you, and thought you should
+see the verses first. May I see it now?" he continued. "It's so long
+since I wrote it, you see."
+
+"Yes, you may see it," replied Selina, without raising her eyes; "but
+it's all passed now," with another little sigh.
+
+His disengaged hand had secured the letter, and hastily glancing over
+the writing, he exclaimed with sudden fervour:
+
+[Sidenote: "I'm Waiting!"]
+
+"No, Selina! Every word I wrote then I mean to-day. When I left England
+years ago it was with your image in my heart, and with the determination
+that when I was rich I would come back and try my luck again. And in my
+heart you, and you alone, have reigned ever since. And when after long
+years I heard from my cousin that you might still be found at Seaton
+Lodge, you don't know what that meant to me. It made a boy of me again.
+It blotted out all the years that have divided us, and here I am waiting
+for my answer."
+
+"Oh, Edgar, we mustn't be silly. Remember, we're no longer boy and
+girl."
+
+"I remember nothing of the kind. All I remember is that it's Christmas
+Day, that I've asked you a question, and that I am waiting for the
+answer you would have given me years ago but for the damp and a drop of
+gum. You know what it would have been then; give me it now. Dearest, I'm
+waiting."
+
+And Selina Martyn gave her answer, an all-sufficient one to both.
+
+[Illustration: SELINA MARTYN GAVE HER ANSWER.]
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Young people, read and take warning by this awful example.]
+
+Whilst Waiting for the Motor
+
+BY
+
+MADELINE OYLER
+
+
+Her name was Isabel, and she really was a very nice, good little
+girl--when she remembered. But you can't always remember, you know; you
+wouldn't be a little girl if you could, and this happened on one of
+those days when she didn't remember.
+
+Of course Peter forgot too; but then you would expect him to, for he was
+only a boy, and boys, as I suppose you know, cannot use their brains in
+the way that girls can.
+
+The two had spent their morning in the usual way, had breakfast, fed the
+rabbits, said "Good-morning" to the horses, got mother a bunch of
+flowers from their own gardens (Isabel's turn this morning), seen daddy
+off, and then had lessons.
+
+You wouldn't have guessed for a moment that it was going to be a bad
+day; everything had gone well. Peter had actually remembered that Madrid
+was the capital of Spain, always a rather doubtful question with him;
+and Isabel had said her eight times with only two mistakes, and they
+were slight ones.
+
+So you may imagine they were feeling very happy and good, because it was
+a half-holiday, and, best of all, because Auntie May was coming over
+with her big motor at three o'clock, to take them back to tea with
+grandpapa.
+
+I should like you to understand that it was not just an ordinary tea,
+but a special one; for it was grandpapa's birthday, and, as perhaps you
+know, grandpapas don't often have birthday parties, so it was a great
+occasion.
+
+[Sidenote: Presents]
+
+It had taken a long time to choose his presents, but at last they were
+decided.
+
+Isabel had made him a blue silk shaving tidy, with "Shaving" worked in
+pink across it. The "h-a-v" of "Shaving" were rather smaller than the
+other letters, because, after she had drawn a large "S," she was afraid
+there would not be room for such big letters. Afterwards she found there
+was plenty of room, so she did "i-n-g" bigger to make up for it.
+
+After all, it really didn't matter unless you were _very_ particular;
+and of course you wouldn't see that the stitches showed rather badly on
+the inside unless you opened it. Besides, as grandpapa grew a beard, and
+didn't shave at all, he wouldn't want to look inside.
+
+Peter had bought a knife for him; being a boy, and therefore rather
+helpless, he was not able to make him anything. He did begin to carve
+grandpapa a wooden ship, although Isabel pointed out to him that
+grandpapa would never sail it; but Peter thought he might like to have
+it just to look at.
+
+However, just at an important part the wood split; so after all it had
+to be a knife, which of course is always useful.
+
+These presents were kept very secret; not even mother was allowed to
+know what they were.
+
+Three o'clock seemed such a long time coming--you know how slow it _can_
+be. But at half-past two nurse took them up to dress. Peter had a nice
+white serge suit, and nurse had put out a clean starched muslin for
+Isabel, but she (being rather a vain little girl) begged for her white
+silk.
+
+I ought to explain about this frock. One of her aunties sent it to her
+on her last birthday. It was quite the most beautiful little dress you
+ever saw--thick white silk embroidered with daisies. Isabel loved it
+dearly, but was only allowed to wear it on very great occasions.
+
+Well, when she asked if she might put it on, nurse said she thought it
+would be wiser not to. "You won't be able to run about and climb trees
+at your grandpapa's if you do, Miss Isabel."
+
+"But I shan't want to," replied Isabel, "for it is a grown-up party, and
+we shall only sit and talk."
+
+So after all she was allowed to wear it, and with that on and a
+beautiful new sash her Uncle Dick had just sent her from India, she felt
+a very smart little girl indeed.
+
+The shaving tidy she had done up in a parcel, and Peter had the knife in
+his pocket, so they were quite ready, and as they went down to the hall
+the clock struck three.
+
+Alas! there was no motor waiting; instead there was mother with a
+telegram in her hand saying that Auntie May couldn't come for them till
+four o'clock.
+
+What a disappointment! A whole hour longer to wait! What were they to do
+with themselves?
+
+Mother suggested that they should sit down quietly and read, but who can
+possibly sit and read when a big motor is coming soon to fetch them?
+
+So mother very kindly said they might go out in the garden.
+
+"Only remember," she said, "you are not to run about and get hot and
+untidy; and keep on the paths, don't go on the grass."
+
+So out they went, Isabel hugging her precious parcel. She was afraid to
+leave it in the hall lest mother should see it and guess by the shape
+what it was, which of course would spoil it all.
+
+They strolled round the garden, peeped at the rabbits and a brood of
+baby chickens just hatched, then wandered on down the drive.
+
+"Can't we play something?" suggested Isabel--"something quite clean and
+quiet with no running in it."
+
+Peter thought for some time, then he said: "I don't believe there are
+any games like that." Being a boy, you see, he couldn't think of one, so
+he said he didn't think there were any.
+
+[Sidenote: Follow-my-leader]
+
+"Yes, there are," said Isabel, "heaps of them, only I can't think of
+one. Oh, I know, follow my leader, walking, not running, and of course
+not on the grass. I'll be leader."
+
+So off they started, and great fun it was. Isabel led into such queer
+places--the potting-house, tool-shed, laundry, and even into the dairy
+once. Then it was Peter's turn, and he went through the chicken-run,
+stable-yard, and kitchen-garden, and then down the drive.
+
+When he got to the gate he hesitated, then started off down the road.
+
+"Ought we to go down here, do you think?" asked Isabel, plodding along
+behind him.
+
+"Oh, yes, it's all right," Peter said; "we're keeping off the grass and
+not running, and that's all mother told us," and on they went.
+
+After walking for a little way, Peter turned off down a side lane, a
+favourite walk of theirs in summer, and Isabel followed obediently.
+
+Unfortunately, for the last three days it had rained heavily, and the
+deep cart-ruts on both sides of the road were full of thick, muddy
+water.
+
+In trying to walk along the top of one of them, Peter's foot slipped,
+and, before he could prevent it, in it went, right over the top of his
+nice patent-leather shoe.
+
+Isabel, who was following close behind, intently copying her leader in
+all his movements, plopped hers in too.
+
+"Goodness, what a mess!" said Peter, surveying his muddy foot. "How
+awful it looks! I think I shall make the other one dirty too, then it
+won't look so bad."
+
+So in went each clean foot.
+
+And then it was, I am sorry to say, that Isabel forgot to be good. You
+remember I told you that she did sometimes?
+
+She said: "Now that our feet are dirty, let's paddle, they can't look
+worse, and it's such fun!" And as Peter thought so too, paddle they did,
+up and down the dirty, muddy cart-ruts.
+
+Presently Peter's white suit and even his clean tie were spotted with
+mud, and Isabel's beautiful little dress was soaked with muddy water all
+round the bottom, and, saddest of all, her new sash was dragging behind
+her in the water, quite spoilt; but they were so excited that they
+neither of them noticed how they were spoiling their clothes, or that
+the parcel with the shaving-tidy in it had been dropped and stamped down
+into the mud.
+
+They were in the middle of the fun when suddenly they heard in the
+distance the "toot-toot" of a motor-horn, and, looking at each other in
+dismay, they realised it must be Auntie May come to fetch them.
+
+"We shall have to change first," gasped Isabel, as they hurried along
+the road. "I'm afraid we look rather messy!"
+
+Peter said nothing; he was feeling too miserable.
+
+It was a sad sight that met nurse's horrified eyes as she hurried
+anxiously out through the gates in search of them, having hunted the
+garden in vain; and it was a very shamefaced little pair that hastened
+by the big motor at the front door and into the hall, where they found
+mother and Auntie May waiting.
+
+Isabel and Peter really did feel more sorry and ashamed than I can tell
+you, and, grievous though it be, mother and Auntie May went to tea with
+grandpapa, but Peter and Isabel went to bed!
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: The story of a hard heart, a little child, and a kind
+friend.]
+
+The Grumpy Man
+
+BY
+
+MRS. HARTLEY PERKS
+
+
+It was past nine on a winter's evening. Through the misty gloom a tenor
+voice rang clear and resonant. The singer stood on the edge of the
+pavement, guitar in hand, with upturned coat-collar, a wide-brimmed soft
+hat sheltering his face.
+
+          "I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
+             To pine on the stem:
+           Since the lovely are sleeping,
+             Go sleep thou with them.
+           Thus kindly I scatter
+             Thy leaves o'er the bed,
+           Where thy mates of the garden
+             Lie scentless and dead.
+
+           So soon may I follow
+             When friendships decay,
+           And from love's shining circle
+             The gems drop away.
+           When true hearts lie withered,
+             And fond ones are flown,
+           Oh! who would inhabit
+             This bleak world alone?"
+
+The well-placed voice and accent were those of an educated man. The
+words of the old song, delivered clearly with true musical feeling, were
+touched with a thrill of passion.
+
+The thread of the melody was abruptly cut off by a sudden mad clatter of
+hoofs. A carriage dashed wildly along and swerved round the corner. The
+singer dropped his instrument and sprang at the horse's bridle. A
+moment's struggle, and he fell by the curb-stone dazed and shaken, but
+the runaway was checked and the footman was down at his head, while the
+coachman tightened his rein.
+
+The singer struggled to his feet. The brougham window was lowered, and a
+clear-cut feminine face leaned forward.
+
+"Thank you very much," said a cool, level voice, in a tone suitable to
+the recovery of some fallen trifle.
+
+"Williamson"--to the coachman--"give this man half a crown, and drive
+on."
+
+While Williamson fumbled in his pocket for the money, the singer gave
+one glance at the proud, cold face framed by the carriage window, then
+turned hurriedly away.
+
+"Hey, David!" called the coachman to the groom. "Give her her head and
+jump up. She'll be all right now. Whoa--whoa, old girl. That chap's
+gone--half-crowns ain't seemingly in his line. Steady, old girl!" And
+the carriage disappeared into the night.
+
+The singer picked up his guitar and leant on the railings. He was shaken
+and faint. Something seemed amiss with his left hand. He laid his
+forehead against the cool iron and drew a deep breath, muttering--
+
+"It was she! When I heard her cold, cruel voice I thanked God I am as I
+am. Thank God for my child and a sacred memory----"
+
+"Are you hurt?" asked a friendly voice.
+
+The singer looked up to see a man standing hatless above him on the
+steps of the house. He strove to reply, but his tongue refused to act;
+he swayed while rolling waves of blackness encompassed him. He
+staggered blindly forward, then sank into darkness--and for him time was
+not.
+
+When consciousness returned his eyes opened upon a glint of firelight, a
+shaded lamp on a table by which sat a man with bent head writing. It was
+a fine head, large and massive, the hair full and crisp. A rugged hand
+grasped the pen with decision, and there was no hesitation in its rapid
+movement.
+
+The singer lay for a moment watching the bent head, when it suddenly
+turned, and a pair of remarkably keen grey eyes met his own.
+
+"Ah, you are better! That's right!" Rising, the writer went to a
+cupboard against the wall, whence he brought a decanter and glass.
+
+"I am a doctor," he said kindly. "Luckily I was handy, or you might have
+had a bad fall."
+
+The singer tried to rise.
+
+"Don't move for a few moments," continued the doctor, holding a glass to
+his lips. "Drink this, and you will soon be all right again."
+
+The singer drank, and after a pause glanced inquiringly at his left
+hand, which lay bound up at his side.
+
+"Only a sprain," said the doctor, answering his glance. "I saw how it
+happened. Scant thanks, eh?"
+
+The singer sat up and his eyes flashed.
+
+[Sidenote: "I want no Thanks!"]
+
+"I wanted no thanks from her," he muttered bitterly.
+
+"How is that?" questioned the doctor. "You knew the lady?"
+
+"Yes, I knew her. The evil she has brought me can never be blotted out
+by rivers of thanks!"
+
+The doctor's look questioned his sanity.
+
+"I fail to understand," he remarked simply.
+
+"My name is Waldron, Philip Waldron," went on the singer. "You have a
+right to my name."
+
+"Not connected with Waldron the great financier?" again questioned the
+doctor.
+
+"His son. There is no reason to hide the truth from you. You have been
+very kind--more than kind. I thank you."
+
+"But I understood Waldron had only one son, and he died some years
+ago--I attended him."
+
+"Waldron had two sons, Lucien and Philip. I am Philip."
+
+"But----"
+
+"I can well understand your surprise. My father gave me scant
+thought--his soul was bound up in my elder brother."
+
+"But why this masquerade?"
+
+"It is no masquerade," returned the singer sadly. "I sing to eke out my
+small salary as clerk in a city firm. My abilities in that way do not
+command a high figure," he added, with a bitter laugh.
+
+"Then your father----?"
+
+"Sent me adrift because I refused to marry that woman whose carriage I
+stopped to-night."
+
+The doctor made an expression of surprise.
+
+"Yes, it seems strange I should come across her in that fashion, doesn't
+it? The sight of her has touched old sores."
+
+Philip Waldron's eyes gleamed as he fixed them on the doctor's face.
+
+"I will tell you something of my story--if you wish it."
+
+"Say on."
+
+"As a young man at home I was greatly under my father's influence.
+Perhaps because of his indifference I was the more anxious to please
+him. At all events, urged by him, but with secret reluctance, I proposed
+and was accepted by that lady whose carriage I stopped to-night. She was
+rich, beautiful, but I did not love her. I know my conduct was weak, it
+was ignoble--but I did her no wrong. For me she had not one spark of
+affection. My prospective wealth was the bait."
+
+Waldron paused, and drew his hand across his eyes. "Then--then I met the
+girl who in the end became my wife. That she was poor was an
+insurmountable barrier in my father's eyes. I sought freedom from my
+hateful engagement in vain. I need not trouble you with all the story.
+Suffice it that I left home and married the woman I loved. My father's
+anger was overwhelming. We were never forgiven. When my brother died I
+hoped for some sign from my father, but he made none. And now my wife
+also is dead."
+
+"And you are alone in the world?" asked the doctor, who had followed his
+story with interest.
+
+Philip Waldron's face lit up with a rarely winning smile.
+
+"No," he said, "I have a little girl." Then the smile faded, as he
+added, "She is a cripple."
+
+"And have you never appealed to your father?"
+
+[Sidenote: Unopened Letters]
+
+"While my wife lived--many times. For her sake I threw pride aside, but
+my letters were always returned unopened."
+
+The doctor sat silent for some time. Then steadfastly regarding the
+young man, he said--
+
+"My name is Norman. I have known and attended your father now for a good
+many years. I was at your brother's death-bed. I never heard him mention
+a second son."
+
+Philip sighed. "No, I suppose not. I am as dead to him now."
+
+"You are indifferent?"
+
+"Pardon me; not indifferent, only hopeless. Had there been any chance
+for me, it came when my brother died."
+
+"For the sake of your child will you not appeal once more?"
+
+Philip's face softened. "For my child I would do much. Thank God,"
+glancing at his left hand, "my right is uninjured. My city work is safe.
+Singing is not my profession, you know," he added, with a dreary smile.
+"I only sing to buy luxuries for my lame little one."
+
+Rising, he held out his hand.
+
+"You have been a true Samaritan, Dr. Norman. I sincerely thank you."
+
+The doctor took the outstretched hand.
+
+"May I help you further?" he asked.
+
+"I don't see well how you can, but I will take the will for the deed."
+
+"But you do not forbid me to try?"
+
+Philip shook his head despondingly. "You may try, certainly. Matters
+cannot be worse than they are; only you will waste valuable time."
+
+"Let me be judge of that. May I come to see you?"
+
+Philip hesitated; then, when urged, gave his address, but in a manner
+indicating that he never expected it to be used.
+
+Dr. Norman, however, was a man of his word. A few days after that chance
+meeting found him toiling up the steep stairs of block C in Dalmatian
+Buildings, Marylebone, having ascertained below that the Waldrons' rooms
+were on the top floor.
+
+"There had need be good air when one gets to the surface here," groaned
+the doctor, when he reached the top, and paused to recover breath before
+knocking.
+
+Sounds came from within--a light, childish laugh, a patter of talk. In
+response to his knock, a step accompanied by the tap-tap of a crutch
+came across the wooden floor. After some hesitation the door was opened
+by a pale, brown-eyed child of about seven. A holland pinafore reached
+to her feet, the right side hitched up by the crutch under that arm, on
+which she leant heavily. Dark, wavy hair fell over her shoulders,
+framing a pale, oval face, out of which shone a pair of bright,
+wide-open eyes.
+
+She remained in the doorway looking up at the doctor.
+
+[Illustration: "I SUPPOSE YOU'VE COME ABOUT THE GAS BILL."]
+
+"I suppose you've come about the gas bill," she said at length, with an
+old-womanish air, "but it's no use. Father is out, and I have only
+sixpence. It's my own, but you can have it if you promise to take care
+of it."
+
+"I'm a doctor, and a friend of your father's," replied Norman, with a
+reassuring smile.
+
+The child at once moved aside.
+
+[Sidenote: A Real Live Visitor]
+
+"Please come in. I've just been playing with my dolls for visitors, but
+it will be much nicer to have a real live one."
+
+The room the doctor entered was small, but cheerful; the floor
+uncarpeted, but clean, and the window framed a patch of sky over the
+chimney-pots below. A table stood near the window, by it two chairs on
+which lay two dolls.
+
+"Come to the window," requested the child, tap-tapping over the floor.
+"Lucretia and Flora, rise at once to greet a stranger," she cried
+reproachfully to the dolls, lifting them as she spoke.
+
+She stood waiting until Dr. Norman was seated, then drew a chair facing
+him and sat down. Her keen, intelligent glance searched him over, then
+dwelt upon his face.
+
+"Are you a good doctor?" she asked.
+
+"Why do you want to know?"
+
+"Because father says doctors are good, and I wondered if you were. You
+must not mind my dollies being rather rude. It is difficult to teach
+them manners so high up."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Well, you see, they have no society but my own, because they have to be
+in bed before father comes home."
+
+"And do you never go out?"
+
+"Sometimes on Sundays father carries me downstairs, and when we can
+afford it he hires a cab to take me to the Park. But, you see, we can't
+always afford it," with a wise shake of the head.
+
+"Poor child!"
+
+"Why do you say 'poor child' in that voice? I'm not a poor child. I got
+broken--yes--and was badly mended, dad says, but I'm not a 'poor child.'
+Poor childs have no dolls, and no funny insides like me."
+
+The doctor smiled. "What sort of inside is that?"
+
+"Well, you see, I have no outside little friends, and so my friends live
+inside me. I make new ones now and then, when the old ones get dull, but
+I like the old ones best myself."
+
+At that moment a step sounded on the stairs; the child's face lit up
+with a look which made her beautiful.
+
+"That's father!" she exclaimed, and starting up, hastened as fast as her
+crutch would permit to the door.
+
+Waldron stooped to kiss tenderly the sweet, welcoming face held up to
+his, then he grasped Dr. Norman's hand.
+
+"So, doctor, you are true," he said with feeling. "You do not promise
+and forget."
+
+"I am the slower to promise," returned Dr. Norman. "I have just been
+making acquaintance with your little maid."
+
+"My little Sophy!"
+
+"Yes, father?"
+
+Waldron passed a caressing hand over the child's head.
+
+"We two want to talk, dear, so you must go into your own little room."
+
+"Yes, father; but I will bid goodbye to this doctor first," she said,
+with a quaint air, offering Dr. Norman a thin little hand.
+
+As the door closed upon her Waldron remarked rather bitterly, "You see I
+told the truth."
+
+"My dear fellow," cried the doctor, "I did not doubt you for a moment! I
+came this afternoon to tell you I have seen your father--he sent for me.
+He is not well. He seems troubled more than his illness warrants. Can it
+be that under that callous manner he hides regret for the past?"
+
+Philip sighed.
+
+"You must be ever present to his memory," went on the doctor. "It might
+be possible to touch his feelings."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Through your child--nay, hear me out. No harm shall come to her; I
+would not propose it did I believe such a thing possible."
+
+"But it might mean separation. No, doctor, let us struggle along--she at
+least is happy."
+
+"For the present, yes, but for how long? She will not always remain a
+child. Have you had a good medical opinion in regard to her lameness?"
+
+"The best I could afford at the time."
+
+"And----?"
+
+"It was unfavourable to trying any remedy; but that was not long after
+her mother's death."
+
+"May I examine her?"
+
+Waldron's glad eagerness was eloquent of thanks.
+
+When Dr. Norman left those upper rooms there was a light long absent on
+Philip's face as he drew his lame child within his arms.
+
+[Sidenote: Sophy takes a Drive]
+
+In a few days the doctor called again at Dalmatian Buildings, and
+carried Sophy off in his carriage, the child all excitement at the
+change and novelty.
+
+After a short drive Dr. Norman said, "Now, Sophy, I have a rather
+serious case on hand, and I am going to leave you for a little at a
+friend's, and call for you again later. You won't mind?"
+
+"I think not. I shall be better able to tell you after I have been."
+
+The doctor laughed.
+
+"You see," went on Sophy, with a wise nod of her little head, "you can't
+tell how you will like things until you try them--now, can you?"
+
+"No, certainly not. So you can tell me how you get on as I drive you
+home."
+
+"Is this your serious case or mine?" asked Sophy anxiously, as the
+carriage drew up at a large house in a West-End square.
+
+"This is where I hope to leave you," returned the doctor, smiling. "But
+you must wait until I find if it be convenient for me to do so."
+
+Dr. Norman was shown into the library, where by the fire in an arm-chair
+sat an old man, one foot supported on a stool before him. His face was
+drawn and pinched, and his temper none of the sweetest, to judge by the
+curt response he made to the doctor's greeting.
+
+"You are late this morning," was his sole remark.
+
+"I may be slightly--but you are fast becoming independent of my care."
+
+An unamiable grunt was the old man's reply.
+
+When a few medical questions had been put and answered, Dr. Norman
+placed himself on the hearthrug, looking down at his patient as he drew
+on his gloves.
+
+"You are much better," he said cheerfully.
+
+"Oh, you think so, do you? Well, I don't."
+
+"Yes, I think so. I should like to prescribe you change of scene, Mr.
+Waldron."
+
+"Want to be rid of me, I suppose. Well, I'm not going!"
+
+"Change of thought might do equally well."
+
+"I'm likely to get it, chained here by the leg, ain't I?"
+
+"Well, change of thought comes by association, and is quite available;
+in fact, at the present moment I have in my carriage a small person who
+has given me much change of thought this morning."
+
+"I can't see what good your change of thought will do me!" growled Mr.
+Waldron.
+
+Dr. Norman regarded him speculatively.
+
+"I wonder if you would do me a favour. I have rather a serious case on
+the other side of the square, will take me about half an hour; might I
+leave my small friend here for that time?"
+
+"What! in this room?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Nonsense! You don't mean to bring a child in here!"
+
+"Again I say, why not? She will amuse and interest you."
+
+"Well, of all the----"
+
+"Don't excite yourself, Mr. Waldron. You know how bad that is for you."
+
+"You are giving me some change of thought with a vengeance, doctor! Why
+should you bring a nasty brat to disturb me?"
+
+[Sidenote: Some Amusement]
+
+"I only offered you some amusement----"
+
+"Amusement be hanged! You know I hate children."
+
+"I know you say so."
+
+Mr. Waldron growled.
+
+"She is not so very small," went on the doctor--"about seven or eight, I
+think."
+
+"Humph! Young enough to be a nuisance! A girl, eh?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Girls are not so bad as boys," he admitted.
+
+"No, so some people think--good-morning." Dr. Norman went towards the
+door.
+
+"A girl, you say?" growled old Mr. Waldron again.
+
+"Yes; good-morning."
+
+"I say, don't be in such a hurry!"
+
+"I really cannot stay longer at present; goodbye."
+
+Dr. Norman opened the door and stood within it. Old Mr. Waldron fidgeted
+in his chair, muttering--
+
+"Horrid child! Hate children! Perfect nuisance!"
+
+The doctor partly closed the door.
+
+"I say, have you gone?" cried the old man, glancing round. "Dr. Norman,"
+he called suddenly, "you can bring that brat in if it will be any
+pleasure to you, and if you find me dead in half an hour my death will
+lie at your door!"
+
+The doctor at once accepted this grudging concession, and hastening to
+the carriage, brought Sophy back in his arms.
+
+"What the----" called out old Mr. Waldron when he saw the child. "Is she
+ill?"
+
+"Oh, no, only lame," replied the doctor, as he placed his burden in a
+chair opposite to the old man.
+
+"Now, Sophy," he admonished, "you will be a pleasant companion to this
+gentleman until my return."
+
+Sophy eyed her neighbour doubtfully.
+
+"I'll try to," she replied, and so the doctor left them.
+
+For some time this strangely assorted pair eyed each other in silence.
+At length Sophy's gaze rested on the old man's foot where it lay in its
+large slipper on the stool before him.
+
+"I see you are broken too," she said in a sympathetic voice. "It isn't
+really pleasant to be broken, is it, although we try to pretend we don't
+care, don't we?"
+
+"No, it isn't exactly pleasant," replied Mr. Waldron, and a half-smile
+flickered over his face. "How did you get broken?"
+
+"Somebody let me fall, father says, and afterwards I was only
+half-mended. It is horrid to be only a half-mended thing--but some
+people are so stupid, you know."
+
+Mr. Waldron grunted.
+
+"Does it hurt you to speak that you make that funny noise?" asked Sophy
+curiously.
+
+"I'm an old man, and I do as I like."
+
+"Oh! When I'm an old woman may I do as I like?"
+
+"I suppose so," grudgingly.
+
+"Then I shall be an awfully nice old woman; I shouldn't like to be cross
+and ugly. I don't like ugly people, and there are so many going about
+loose. I am always so glad I like my father's face."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I have to see it every, every day. Have you anybody whose face
+you like?"
+
+"No; I haven't."
+
+"What a pity! I wonder if you like mine--or perhaps you would like
+father's. It does seem a shame you shouldn't have somebody."
+
+"I do very well without."
+
+"Oh no, I'm sure you don't," replied Sophy with deep concern. "You may
+do somehow, but you can't do well."
+
+"What's your father like?" asked Mr. Waldron, amused in spite of
+himself.
+
+"My father's like a song," returned Sophy, as though she had given the
+subject much reflection.
+
+"A song! How's that?"
+
+"Sometimes he is gay--full of jokes and laughter, sometimes he is sad,
+and I cry softly to myself in bed; but he is always beautiful, you
+know--like a song."
+
+"And your mother?"
+
+[Sidenote: "It is Lonely Sometimes"]
+
+"I haven't got a mother," replied Sophy sadly. "That's where I'm only
+half like other little girls. My mother was frightened, and so was the
+little brother who was coming to play with me. They were both
+frightened, and so they ran away back again to God. I wish they had
+stayed--it is lonely sometimes."
+
+"But you have your father."
+
+"Yes, only father is away all day, and I sit such a lot at our window."
+
+"But you have no pain, have you?" Mr. Waldron questioned with interest.
+
+"No," answered Sophy, sighing faintly. "Only a pain in my little mind."
+
+"Ah! my pain is in my toe, and I expect hurts a deal more than yours.
+What's your father about that he leaves you alone and doesn't have you
+seen to, eh?"
+
+Sophy's face blazed. "How dare you speak in that voice of my father!"
+she cried. "He is the kindest and best, and works for me until he is
+quite thin and pale. Do you work for anybody? I don't think you do," she
+added scornfully, "you look too fat!"
+
+"You haven't much respect for grey hairs, young lady."
+
+"Grey hairs, why?" asked Sophy, still ruffled.
+
+Mr. Waldron took refuge in platitudes.
+
+"I have always been taught that the young should respect age, of which
+grey hair is an emblem."
+
+"How funny!" said Sophy, leaning forward to look more closely at her
+companion. "To think of so much meaning in those tufts behind your ears!
+I always thought what was inside mattered--not the outside. How much
+silly people must long to have grey hairs, that they may be respected. I
+must ask father if that is true."
+
+"I suppose you respect your father?" said Mr. Waldron severely.
+
+"Oh, no," replied Sophy. "I only _love_ him. I think the feeling I have
+for the gas man must be respect. Yes, I think it must be, there is
+something so disagreeable about it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, you see, he so often comes when father is out and asks for money,
+just as if money grew on our floor, then he looks at me and goes away
+grumbling. I think it must be respect I feel when I see his back going
+downstairs."
+
+Mr. Waldron laughed. "You are a queer little girl!" he said.
+
+"Yes, I suppose I am," answered Sophy resignedly. "Only I hope I'm not
+unpleasant."
+
+When Dr. Norman returned he found the child and his patient on the best
+of terms. After placing Sophy in the carriage, he came back at Mr.
+Waldron's request for a few words.
+
+"That's a funny child," began the old man, glancing up at the doctor.
+"She actually made me laugh! What are you going to do with her?"
+
+"Take her home."
+
+"Humph! I suppose I couldn't--couldn't----?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Buy her?"
+
+"Good gracious, Mr. Waldron! We are in the twentieth century!"
+
+"Pity, isn't it! But there are many ways of buying without paying cash.
+See what you can do. She amuses me. I'll come down handsomely for her."
+
+"Well, you must let me think it over," replied the doctor in his most
+serious manner, but he smiled as he shut the library door.
+
+An evening shortly afterwards Dr. Norman again called on old Mr.
+Waldron. He found his patient much better, and seated at his
+writing-table, from which he glanced up quite briskly to inquire--
+
+"Well, have you brought our queer little friend again?"
+
+"Not this time, but I have come to know if you will help me."
+
+"Got some interesting boy up your sleeve this time, have you?"
+
+"No, only the same girl. I want to cure her lameness."
+
+"Is that possible?"
+
+"I believe quite possible, but it will mean an operation and probably a
+slow recovery."
+
+"You don't want me to operate, I suppose?"
+
+The doctor smiled. "Only as friend and helper. I will do the deed
+myself."
+
+Old Mr. Waldron growled. "Flaunting your good deeds to draw this badger,
+eh? Well, where do I come in?"
+
+[Sidenote: Dr. Norman's Proposal]
+
+"Let me bring the child here. Let her be cared for under your roof. Her
+father is poor--he cannot afford nurses and the paraphernalia of a
+sick-room."
+
+"So I am to turn my house into a hospital for the sick brat of nobody
+knows who--a likely tale! Why, I haven't even heard the father's name!"
+
+"He is my friend, let that suffice."
+
+"It doesn't suffice!" roared the old man, working himself into a rage.
+"I call it pretty cool that you should come here and foist your charity
+brats on me!"
+
+Dr. Norman took up his hat.
+
+"You requested me to see if the father would allow you to adopt the
+child----"
+
+"Adopt; did I say adopt?"
+
+"No; you used a stronger term--'buy,' I think it was."
+
+Old Mr. Waldron grunted. "I said nothing about nurses and carving up
+legs."
+
+"No, these are only incidents by the way. Well, good-evening." Dr.
+Norman opened the door.
+
+"Why are you in such haste?" demanded Mr. Waldron.
+
+"I have people waiting for me," returned the doctor curtly. "I am only
+wasting time here. Good-night."
+
+He went outside, but ere his hand left the door a call from within
+reached him.
+
+"Come back, you old touch-flint!" cried Mr. Waldron. "You are trying to
+force my hand--I know you! Well, I'll yield. Let that uncommonly queer
+child come here; only remember I am to have no trouble, no annoyance.
+Make your own arrangements--but don't bother me!"
+
+So it came to pass that little Sophy Waldron was received into her
+grandfather's house all unknowing that it was her grandfather's.
+
+He saw her for a few moments on the day of her arrival.
+
+"I hear you are going to be made strong and well," was the old man's
+greeting.
+
+"Yes," returned Sophy, with a wise look. "They are going to try and mend
+me straight. I hope they won't make a mistake this time. Mistakes are so
+vexatious."
+
+"When you are well would you like to live with me? I want a little girl
+about the house."
+
+"What for? You have lots and lots of people to do things for you."
+
+Mr. Waldron sighed. "I would like somebody to do things without being
+paid for their work."
+
+"Oh, I understand," replied Sophy. "Well, I'll see how my leg turns out,
+and if father thinks you a nice old man--of course it will all depend on
+father."
+
+"Confound it! I forgot the father!"
+
+"You mustn't say naughty words, Mr. Sir," remonstrated Sophy, shaking a
+forefinger at him. "And you mustn't speak horrid of my father; I love
+him."
+
+[Sidenote: "Could you Love me?"]
+
+Old Mr. Waldron regarded her wistfully. "Do you think you could love me,
+Sophy?"
+
+The child eyed him critically.
+
+"I like you in bits," she replied. "But perhaps the good bits may
+spread, then I should like you very much."
+
+Just then the doctor came to take her to the room prepared, where a
+pleasant-faced nurse was in waiting.
+
+Some hours afterwards, when Dr. Norman's task was done, and poor little
+Sophy lay white but peaceful on her bed, she looked up at the nurse,
+saying with a whimsical smile--
+
+"I should like to see the grumpy man."
+
+"And so you shall, my dear," was the nurse's hasty assurance. "Whoever
+can that be?" she muttered under her breath.
+
+"Why, the grumpy man downstairs," reiterated Sophy.
+
+"Would it be right?" questioned her father, who knelt by the bed,
+holding a small hand clasped firmly in his own.
+
+"I'll see what the doctor says," replied the nurse, retiring into the
+adjoining room.
+
+She speedily returned to say that Dr. Norman would go down himself to
+bring up old Mr. Waldron.
+
+Sophy turned a pale face contentedly to her father.
+
+"Dear dadums," she whispered, "now you will see my friend. He is not
+such a bad old man, though he does grunt sometimes."
+
+For answer Philip Waldron bowed his head upon the hand he held, and
+waited.
+
+Soon steps and voices were heard outside.
+
+"Is this the room? A terrible way up! Why didn't you put her a floor
+lower? Quieter?--oh, well, have your own way!"
+
+The doctor and Mr. Waldron entered. In the half-light of the room the
+little figure on the bed was dimly visible. Both men paused while the
+doctor laid a professional hand on the child's pulse.
+
+"She is all right," he remarked reassuringly.
+
+"So you wanted to see me," began Mr. Waldron, looking down at the small
+head where it lay on the pillow. "How pale she is!" he ejaculated to
+himself. "I hope they have treated her properly!"
+
+"Quite properly, thank you," replied Sophy, answering his half-whisper.
+"I wanted you to see my daddy."
+
+Mr. Waldron noticed for the first time the bowed head on the other side
+of the bed.
+
+"Yes," continued Sophy, following his glance. "This is my daddy, and he
+wants to help me say 'Thank you.' For Dr. Norman has told me how kind
+you are, if you are sometimes grumpy."
+
+Philip Waldron slowly raised his head and stood up, facing his father
+across the bed.
+
+"Philip!"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Is it possible?"
+
+"I did not intend you should find me here," said Philip, his voice
+hoarse with emotion, "but it was her wish to see you; and I--I can go
+away."
+
+He moved as if to leave the room.
+
+"Stay!" came a peremptory command. "I--I have forgiven you long ago, my
+son; only pride and self-will stood in the way. For her sake, Philip!"
+
+And the old man stretched a trembling hand across the child.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Some true dog-stories for all who love dogs.]
+
+Dogs We Have Known
+
+BY
+
+LADY CATHERINE MILNES-GASKELL
+
+
+Some years ago I was the guest of my friends Colonel and Mrs. Hamilton.
+Besides myself, there was a large Christmas party of friends and
+children staying in the house. One evening in the drawing-room we all
+joined in the children's play.
+
+"What would you say," interposed Mr. Hillary, one of the guests, and he
+addressed the children, "if we were all in turn to tell you stories of
+all the dogs we have known?"
+
+A little buzz of applause met this proposal, and our hostess, being
+pressed to tell the first tale, began by saying, "Well, then, I will
+tell you how I found my little terrier 'Snap.'"
+
+"One day, about two years ago, I was driving into Charleston, which, as
+you know, is about two miles off. A little distance from the park gates
+I noticed that my pony carriage was followed by a little white dog--or
+at least by a little dog that had once been white. It ran along through
+the black mud of the roads, but nothing seemed to discourage it. On it
+came, keeping up some ten yards behind my carriage.
+
+"At first I thought we only happened both of us to be going in the same
+direction, and that it was merely hurrying home; but I was soon
+undeceived, for to my surprise the little dog followed me first into one
+shop and then into another.
+
+"Finally I got out again and went into the last. On returning to the
+ponies I was astonished to find that the poor little wanderer had jumped
+into the carriage, and ensconced herself comfortably amongst the
+cushions."
+
+"'The brute won't let me take it out,' said Dick, my diminutive groom;
+'it growls if I only touch it, something terrible.'
+
+"'Oh, leave it, then,' I replied, and Snap, as I afterwards christened
+her, drove back with me, sitting up proudly by my side.
+
+"The next day I went out for a long ride. Without any encouragement on
+my part, the little terrier insisted upon following my horse. I think we
+must have gone over a distance of some twenty-four miles, through woods,
+over fields, and along the high-roads, but never once had I to call or
+whistle to bring her to my side. My little friend was always just behind
+me.
+
+"'She be determined to earn herself a good home,' said our old coachman,
+when I returned in the afternoon and he saw the little dog still
+following faithfully behind me. I asked him to catch and feed her, but
+Snap would not trust herself to his care. She showed her teeth and
+growled furiously when he approached her.
+
+"'More temper than dawg,' murmured our old retainer as he relinquished
+his pursuit of her. 'Cum, lassie, I'll do thee no harm;' but the terrier
+was not to be caught by his blandishments, and I had to catch her myself
+and feed her. To me she came at once, looking at me with her earnest,
+wistful eyes, and placing complete trust in me immediately.
+
+"One of my friends says, 'Snap is redeemed by her many vices.' What made
+her confidence in me from the very first most remarkable was her general
+dislike to all strangers. She hates nearly every one. 'Snap spakes to
+us all about place,' is said of her by our old gardener.
+
+"Obviously, I am sorry to say, her former master must have been opposed
+to law and order, for of all human beings she most hates policemen!
+
+[Sidenote: Only Just in Time!]
+
+"She also entertains a strong dislike to ministers of all denominations.
+Last year when a high dignitary of the Church came to call upon me,
+imagine my dismay when I saw during our interview Snap, with evil
+designs, crawling under the furniture to nip his lordship's legs. I was
+only just in time to prevent the catastrophe!
+
+"The 'nasty sneak,' as my nephew Harry called her when he heard the
+story, was almost able before I could stop her to fulfil her wicked
+intentions. Happily, his lordship was unconscious of her inhospitable
+purpose, and when I caught her up only said: 'Poor little dog! don't
+trouble, Mrs. Hamilton, I am not at all nervous about dogs.'
+
+[Illustration: AT THE SHOW.]
+
+"Another time I remember taking Snap to a meeting got up to further the
+interests of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
+
+"All went well till a clergyman rose and addressed the meeting, when
+Snap jumped up also, barking ferociously, and tried to bite him. She was
+carried out struggling and yelping with rage.
+
+"'Yon tyke can't do with a parson,' is the dictum of the villagers when
+they see her go by with me. Snap is very faithful, very crotchety,
+distrusting nearly everybody, greeting every fresh acquaintance with
+marked suspicion, and going through life with a most exalted and
+ridiculous notion of her own importance, and also of that of her master
+and mistress."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Snap's dislike to the clergy reminds me," said Colonel Hamilton, "of a
+story I heard the other day from my friend Gordon, the artist: You must
+know that last year the county gave old Vaughan of Marshford Grange, for
+his services as M.F.H., a testimonial. 'Old V.,' as he is known, has
+the hereditary temper of all the Vaughans--in fact, might vie with 'Our
+Davey' of Indian fame. Gordon, as you know, was selected by the Hunt
+Committee to paint the picture, and he went to stay at the Grange.
+
+"The day after his arrival he went down to breakfast, but found nobody
+there but the old squire seated at his table, and by him a favourite
+large lean white bull terrier.
+
+"'Bob,' he declared, looked at him out of the corner of his evil eye,
+and therefore it was with some trepidation that he approached the table.
+
+"'Swear, man, swear, or say something that he'll take for swearing,'
+exclaimed his host. 'If Bob takes you for a parson he'll bite you.' The
+explanation of this supposed hostility on Bob's part to the clergy
+consisted in the known and open warfare that existed between Vaughan and
+his parson.
+
+"Some forty years before, the Squire had given his best living to his
+best college friend, and ever since there had been internecine war as a
+consequence.
+
+"Poor Gordon was that curious anomaly, an artist combined with the pink
+of spinsterly propriety; and he could see no humour in the incident, but
+always declared that he felt nervous during his visit at the Grange lest
+Bob's punishing jaws should mistake his antecedents and profession.
+
+"But now, Lady Constance, it is your turn, as the children say."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I have a very clever old dog at home," said Lady Constance, turning to
+the children, "called 'Sloe.' She was, in her youth and prime, a most
+valuable retriever, but now is grown too old to do much but sleep in the
+sunshine. Eddie and Molly were given some time ago two pretty young
+white rabbits. They looked like balls of white fluff, and were the
+prettiest toy-like pets you can imagine. One night, unfortunately, they
+escaped from their protecting hutch.
+
+"Sloe is one of those dogs that cannot resist temptation, and although
+she has often been whipped and scolded for massacring rabbits, never
+listens to the voice of conscience. In fact, she hardly seems as if she
+could help doing so, and appears to think, like the naughty boy of the
+story, that, in spite of the beating, the fun was too great to forgo.
+
+[Sidenote: Sloe and Duchess]
+
+"Sloe is always loose, but has a kennel to sleep in at nights in the
+stable-yard. Opposite to her kennel is chained another dog--a
+retriever--'Duchess' by name, a lovely dog of a soft flaxen colour. This
+dog on this occasion, it so happened, had not yet been unchained.
+
+"Sloe disappeared amongst the shrubberies, and found there her innocent
+victims. The poor little things were soon caught, and breathed their
+last in her ferocious jaws. When Sloe had killed them she did not care
+to eat them, and, strange to say, she determined not to bury them, but
+resolved that it should appear that the murder had been committed by her
+companion, and that Duchess should bear the blame.
+
+"It is said that she is jealous of her companion sharing the favour of
+her master, and so decided upon doing her a bad turn.
+
+"Prompted probably by this evil thought, she carried her victims one
+after the other into Duchess's kennel and left them there. The coachman,
+who was up betimes cleaning his harness, saw her do this. After which
+the old sly-boots retired to her own lair and went to sleep as if
+nothing had happened."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Did you ever owe your life to a dog?" inquired Colonel Hamilton,
+turning to Lady Constance.
+
+"Oh, yes, I did once," was her reply.
+
+"Some years ago I was given a large dog--half bloodhound and half
+mastiff. To women and children he was very gentle, but he had an
+inveterate dislike to all men. There was nothing he would not allow a
+baby to do to him. It might claw his eyes, sit on his back, tap his
+nose, scream in his ears, and pull his hair; and 'George,' for such was
+his name, would sit and look at me with a sort of broad good-natured
+smile.
+
+"One year we all went up to a shooting-lodge in Perthshire. In the
+paddock before the house there was a bull. I complained of our
+neighbour, for I thought he had an evil eye, and might some day do the
+children some mischief.
+
+"Our landlord, however, would not listen to my complaints.
+
+"'Dinna ye fash yersel,' Geordie,' he said to his herdsman, 'or take
+notice of what the women-folk say. It is a douce baistie, and he'll nae
+harm bairns nor doggies.'
+
+"In spite of this, one afternoon I had occasion to cross the meadow,
+when suddenly I turned round and saw the bull running behind me. He
+bellowed fiercely as he advanced.
+
+"Happily, when he charged I was able to spring aside, and so he passed
+me. But I saw that the wall at the end of the field was several hundreds
+yards off, and I felt, if the bull turned again to pursue me, my life
+would not be worth much.
+
+"Then I saw my faithful George standing sullenly beside me, all his
+'hackles' up, and waiting for the enemy with an ominous growl.
+
+"The bull again turned, but my dog met him, and something of the
+inherited mastiff love of feats in the bull-ring must have awoke within
+him, for when the bull came after me the old dog flew at his nose,
+courageously worried him, and fairly ended by routing him. In the
+meantime I slipped over the loose stone wall, and ran and opened the
+gate at the bottom of the field, through which trotted a few minutes
+later my protector.
+
+"I told my story when I returned to the house, and the keeper promised
+me that he would speak to the bailiff at our landlord's farm and have
+the bull taken away on the following day.
+
+"Now, the grass of the paddock being particularly tender and sweet, it
+was the custom for the 'hill ponies' to graze at night in company with
+the cows and the bull. The horses and cattle had hitherto done so,
+without causing any damage to each other; but the morning after my
+adventure one of the ponies was found gored to death, and an old
+cart-mare who had been running there with a foal was discovered to be so
+terribly injured that she had to be shot. It was noticed that the bull's
+horns were crimson with blood, so there could be no doubt who was the
+delinquent.
+
+"'The more you know of a bull, the less faith you can put in one,' said
+our old cowherd to me one day when I recounted to him in Yorkshire my
+escape; 'and, saving your ladyship's presence,' he added, 'bulls are as
+given to tantrums as young females.'
+
+[Sidenote: George's Tricks]
+
+"When George was young we tried to teach him some tricks," continued
+Lady Constance, "but, like a village boy, he 'was hard to learn;' and
+the only accomplishment he ever acquired was, during meals, to stand up
+and plant his front paws upon our shoulders, look over into our plates,
+and receive as a reward some tit-bit. Sometimes he would do this without
+any warning, and he seemed to derive a malicious pleasure in performing
+these antics upon the shoulders of some nervous lady, or upon some guest
+who did not share with us our canine love."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It had now come to my turn to contribute a story, and in answer to the
+children's appeal I told them that I would tell them all that I could
+remember of my old favourite mastiff, "Rory Bean," so-called after the
+Laird of Dumbiedike's pony in the "Heart of Midlothian."
+
+"Rory was a very large fawn mastiff, with the orthodox black mask. I
+remember my little girl, when she was younger, having once been told
+that she must not go downstairs to her godmamma with a dirty face,
+resolved that if this was the case Rory must have a clean face too.
+
+"So the next day, on entering the nursery, I found she had got some soap
+and water in a basin, and beside her I saw the great kindly beast,
+sitting up on her haunches, patiently waiting whilst her face was being
+washed; but in spite of all the child's efforts the nose remained as
+black as ever. My little girl's verdict, 'that mastiffs is the best
+nursery dogs,' was for a long time a joke amongst our friends.
+
+"For several years we took Rory up to London, but her stay there was
+always rather a sad one, for when out walking the crossings in the
+streets were a great source of terror to her. No maiden-aunt could have
+been more timid. She would never go over by herself, but would either
+bound forward violently or else hang back, and nearly pull over her
+guide. She had also a spinsterly objection to hansoms, and never would
+consent to be driven in one. On the other hand, she delighted in a drive
+in a 'growler,' and, if the driver were cleaning out his carriage, would
+often jump in and refuse to be taken out.
+
+"When Rory followed us in London she had a foolish habit of wishing to
+seem independent of all restraint, and of desiring to appear 'a
+gentleman at large.'
+
+"On one unfortunate occasion, whilst indulging in this propensity, she
+was knocked over by a hansom--not badly hurt, but terribly overcome by a
+sense of the wickedness of the world, where such things could be
+possible.
+
+"The accident happened in Dover Street. Rory had strayed into the gutter
+after some tempting morsel she had espied there, and a dashing hansom
+had bowled her over. She lay yelping and howling and pitying herself
+intensely. My companion and I succeeded in dragging her into a baker's
+shop, where she was shown every kindness and consideration, and then we
+drove home in a four-wheeler. Rory was not much hurt, but for many days
+could hardly be induced to walk in the streets again. She seemed to be
+permeated with a sense of the instability and uncertainty of all things,
+and never appeared able to recover from her surprise that she, 'Rory
+Bean,' a mastiff of most ancient lineage and of the bluest blood, should
+not be able to walk about in safety wherever she pleased--even in the
+streets of the metropolis.
+
+[Sidenote: Lost in London]
+
+"I recollect we once lost her in London. She made her escape out of the
+house whilst we had gone for a ride in the park. When we returned from
+our ride, instead of hearing her joyous bark of welcome, and seeing her
+flop down in her excitement the last four steps of the staircase, as was
+her wont, we were met instead by the anxious face of the butler, who
+told us Rory had run out and could not be found.
+
+"Fortunately, we were not dining out that night, and so, as quickly as
+possible, we sallied forth in different directions to find her. The
+police were communicated with, and a letter duly written to the manager
+of the Dogs' Home at Battersea, whilst my husband and I spent the
+evening in wandering from police-station to police-station, giving
+descriptions of the missing favourite.
+
+"Large fawn mastiff, answers to the name of 'Rory Bean,' black face and
+perfectly gentle. I got quite wearied out in giving over and over again
+the same account. However, to cut a long story short, she was at last
+discovered by the butler, who heard her frantic baying a mile off in the
+centre of Hyde Park, and brought her back, and so ended Rory Bean's last
+season in London.
+
+"A few days before this escapade I took out Rory in one of the few
+squares where dogs are still allowed to accompany their masters. Bean
+had a naive way, when bored, of inviting you or any casual passer-by
+that she might chance to see, to a good game of romps with her. Her
+method was very simple. She would run round barking, but her voice was
+very deep, as of a voice in some subterranean cavern; and with strangers
+this did not invariably awaken on their side a joyous reciprocity.
+Somehow, big dogs always ignore their size.
+
+"They have a confirmed habit of creeping under tiny tables, and hanker
+after squeezing themselves through impossible gaps. Being, as a rule,
+quite innocent of all desire to injure any member of the human race,
+they cannot realise that it is possible that they in their turn can
+frighten anybody.
+
+"I remember on this particular occasion that I was interested in my
+book, and that when Rory had barked round me I had refused to play with
+her. For some time she had lain down quietly beside me, when suddenly an
+old gentleman came into view. He held in his hand a stick, with which he
+meditatively struck the pebbles of the pathway as he walked along.
+
+"At the sight of him Rory jumped up. She could not resist this
+particular action on his part, which she considered a special invitation
+to come and join in a good romp. To my consternation, before I could
+prevent her, I saw her barking and jumping round the poor frightened old
+gentleman, in good-natured but ominous-looking play.
+
+"Seeing that he was really alarmed, I rushed off to his rescue, seized
+my dog and apologised. Wishing at the same time to say something that
+might somewhat condone her conduct, I said: 'I am very sorry, sir, but
+you see she is only a puppy,' and pointed to Rory.
+
+"This was not quite a correct statement, as my four-footed friend was at
+that time about two years old, and measured nearly thirty inches from
+the shoulder, but, as the old man seemed really frightened and muttered
+two ugly words in connection with each other, 'Hydrophobia' and
+'Police,' I was determined to do all I could to reassure him and smooth
+down his ruffled plumes.
+
+"However, my elderly acquaintance would not be comforted, and I heard
+him muttering to himself as he retired from the square, 'Puppy indeed!
+Puppy indeed!'
+
+"Bean's death was very sad. Two years ago we left her in Yorkshire
+whilst we went to London. We heard of her continually whilst we were
+away, and she seemed very flourishing although growing old, till one day
+I got a letter to say that the old dog was suddenly taken very ill and
+could hardly move. The servants had taken her to a loose box, given her
+a good clean bed of straw, and were feeding her with such delicacies as
+she could be prevailed upon to take.
+
+[Sidenote: Rory's Last Welcome]
+
+"I had a sad journey home, thinking of the sufferings of my trusty old
+friend. I shall never forget her joy at seeing me once more. The poor
+faithful creature could not walk, but crawled along upon her stomach to
+meet me when I entered the loose box, filling the place with her cries
+of joy. She covered my hands with kisses, and then laid her head upon my
+knees whilst I sat down beside her. She whined with a sort of
+half-sorrow, half-pleasure--the first that she could not get up and show
+me round the gardens as was her wont, the second that she was happy to
+be thus resting in the presence of her beloved mistress. Around her lay
+a variety of choice foods and tit-bits, but she was in too great pain to
+feed except from my hands.
+
+"Poor dear Bean! she looked at me out of her great solemn eyes. Those
+dear loving eyes; with only one expression shining in them--a daily,
+hourly love--a love in spite of all things--a love invincible.
+
+"During those last few days of her life Rory could not bear to be left
+alone. Her eyes followed me tenderly round and round the stables
+wherever I went. Although constantly in great pain, I shall never forget
+her patience and her pathetic conviction that I could always do her some
+good, and she believed in the miracle which I, alas! had no power to
+perform. The veterinary surgeon who attended her said she was suffering
+from sudden paralysis of the spine, and that she was incurable. This
+disease, it appears, is not very rare amongst old dogs who have lived,
+not always wisely, but too well."
+
+"Do tell us about some other dogs," cry the children as I cease
+speaking. I search my memory, and then turn to the group of little faces
+that are waiting expectantly for me to begin, and continue:
+
+"Amongst the various breeds of dogs that I have come across personally,
+I know of none more faithful than the little fox-terrier is to his first
+devotion. He is a perfect little bantam-cock to fight, and never so
+happy as when he is in a row. 'The most unredeemed thing in nature,' was
+a true remark I once heard made of one; and yet there is no dog more
+devoted to his master, or more gentle to the children of his own
+household.
+
+"I remember a little white terrier of my mother's, a celebrated
+prize-winner, and of the old Eggesford breed, called 'Spite.' Before I
+married she was my special dog, and used to sleep in my room. For years
+afterwards, although a general pet, whenever I returned to my old home
+she would prefer me to every one else, and, when old and blind, would
+toddle up the polished oak staircase to my room, in spite of being
+terribly afraid of slipping through the carved bannisters. She never
+forgot me or wavered when I was with her in giving me the first place in
+her affections.
+
+"I have heard that the first of this noted strain was given many years
+ago to my father as a boy by 'Parson Jack.' It seems that the terriers
+of Parson Russell were noted in the days when the manners and customs of
+the parsons of the West were 'wild and furious.'
+
+"A parson of the 'Parson Froude' type called upon him one evening in the
+dusk, to say that he had brought his terrier to fight 'Parson Jack's' in
+a match.
+
+"My father's old friend, as I have often heard him tell the story to my
+mother, sent down word that he would not fight his dog because he
+'looked upon dog-fights as beastly sights,' but if his brother clergyman
+would come upstairs, they would clear the tables, and he would take his
+jacket off, and they would have some rounds, and see which was the best
+man, and he who won should keep the other's dog.
+
+[Sidenote: "Parson Jack"]
+
+"When the fight was fought and won, and when 'Parson Jack' came off
+victorious, he claimed the other terrier.
+
+"'And don't yu goe for to think, my dear,' he would add, turning to one
+of us children, as he ended the story, and speaking in broad Devonshire,
+as he often did when his heart kindled at the memory of the county in
+the old days--'don't yu goe for tu think as my having a set-tu zhocked
+the people in my parish. My vulk were only plazed to think as parsan was
+the best man of the tu, and if a parsan could stand up like a man in a
+round in they days, er was all the more likely to zuit 'em in the pulpit
+on Zundays.'
+
+"Once every year 'Parson Jack' used to come and dine and sleep at my old
+home to keep his birthday, in company with my father and mother. At such
+times we as children used to come down to dessert to hear him tell
+stories in his racy way of Katerfelto, of long gallops over Exmoor after
+the stag, or of hard runs after the little 'red rover' with Mr.
+Fellowes' hounds."
+
+"What dogs have you now?" inquired Mrs. Hamilton.
+
+"Amongst others, a large St. Bernard," is my reply--"Bathsheba, so
+called after Mr. Hardy's heroine. Not that she has any of that young
+lady's delicate changes and complications of character, nor is she even
+'almighty womanish.'
+
+"Our Bathsheba is of an inexhaustible good temper, stupid, and
+wonderfully stolid and gentle. She is never crusty, and is the untiring
+playmate of any child. The 'Lubber fiend' we call her sometimes in fun,
+for she seems to extend over acres of carpet when she takes a siesta in
+the drawing-room.
+
+"'Has she a soul?' inquired a friend who admired the great gentle
+creature. 'I fear not,' was my reply; 'only a stomach.'
+
+"Besides Bathsheba, we have a large retriever called 'Frolic.' He and
+Bath are given sometimes to running after people who go to the back
+door; they never bite, but growl, and bark if it is a complete
+stranger.
+
+"On one occasion, an Irishman who had been employed to do some draining
+met with this hostile reception. ''Tis gude house-dogs,' said my
+guardian of the poultry grimly.
+
+"On hearing that the Irishman had been frightened, I sought him,
+expressed to him my regrets, and said that, though big, the dogs were
+quite harmless. With ready wit he retorted: 'Begorra, it isn't dogs that
+I am afraid of, but your ladyship keeps lions.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Just one more story," cry the children as I cease speaking, and Mrs.
+Hamilton points to the clock, as their bedtime is long past. After a few
+minutes' pause, I continue:
+
+"The other day I was told of a little girl who attended a distribution
+of prizes given by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
+
+"She had won, you must know, a book as a reward for writing the best
+essay on the subject given, and, with the other successful children, was
+undergoing a _viva voce_ examination.
+
+"'Well, my dear,' said the gentleman who had given away the prizes, 'can
+you tell me why it is cruel to dock horses' tails and trim dogs' ears?'
+'Because,' answered the little girl, 'what God has joined together let
+no man put asunder.'"
+
+An explosion of childish laughter follows my story, and then the little
+ones troop up in silence to bed. I sit on, quietly looking into the
+fire, and as I sit so the voices of my friends seem to grow distant, and
+I fall into a reverie.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A Cornish story of a girl's sorrow.]
+
+Daft Bess
+
+BY
+
+KATE BURNLEY BELT
+
+Up and down the little pier they paced in quarter-deck fashion, each
+with his hands tucked deep down in the pockets of his sea-blanket coat,
+and his oilskin cap pulled well over his ears.
+
+They were very silent in their walk, these three old men, who had
+watched the breakers come and go at Trewithen for over sixty years, and
+handled the ropes when danger threatened. Trewithen Cove had sheltered
+many a storm-driven ship within their memories, and there were
+grave-mounds in the churchyard on the cliff still unclaimed and unknown
+that had been built up by their hands.
+
+Up and down, to and fro they went in the face of the flying spray, in
+spite of the deepening mist that was creeping up over the darkening sea.
+
+Benjamin Blake--once the handiest craftsman in the cove--was the first
+to break the silence.
+
+"'Tis a sa-ad night at sea, mates!" he shouted, and the roar of the
+waves nearly drowned the sound of his voice.
+
+"Iss, tu be zure, Benjamin Blake!" shouted Tom Pemberthy in answer, "an'
+'twill be a ba-ad job fer more'n wan boat, I reckin, 'gainst marnin'!"
+
+Then Joe Clatworthy, whose opinions were valued highly in the settlement
+of all village disputes, so that he had earned for himself the nickname
+of "Clacking Joe," stood still as they once more turned their backs on
+the threatening sea, and said his say.
+
+"A tell ee wot 'twill be, mates," he said solemnly and slowly. "You mark
+my wurrds ef it dawn't cum truthy too,--there'll be terble loss uv
+li-ife out there tu-night," and he waved his hand towards the blackening
+sea, "an' us'll hev tu dig a fuu more graves, I reckin', cum marnin'!"
+
+"The Lard hev murcy!" said Benjamin Blake, and the three resumed their
+walk again.
+
+Half an hour afterwards they were making their way along the one little
+street of which Trewithen boasted to their homes; for a storm--the
+roughest they had known for years--had burst overhead, and a man's life
+is a frail thing in the teeth of a gale.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the top of the cliff and beyond Trewithen churchyard by the length of
+a field there stood a tiny cottage, in which lived Jacob Tresidder,
+fisherman, and his daughter Bess.
+
+"Daft Bess" the children called her as they played with her on the
+sands, though she was a woman grown, and had hair that was streaked with
+white.
+
+She was sitting now by the dying fire in the little kitchen listening to
+the storm without; the hands of the grandfather clock were nearing the
+midnight hour, and Jacob Tresidder lay in a sound sleep upstairs hearing
+nought. She was of the type of fisher-maid common to the depths of
+Cornwall. The soft rich colouring of her skin reminded one more of the
+sunny south, and her big brown eyes had always a glow in them.
+
+To-night they were more luminous than ever as she sat by the fire
+watching the sparks flicker and die, as if the dawn of some hidden
+knowledge were being borne to them on the breath of the storm. The roar
+of the sea as it dashed up the face of the cliff seemed to soothe her,
+and she would smile and turn her ear to catch the sound of its breaking
+on the beach below.
+
+And yet, seven years before, "Daft Bess" had been the brightest and
+prettiest girl in Trewithen, and the admiration of every lad in the
+country round! And Big Ben Martyn, who had a boat of his own, had been
+the pride of every girl! But he only cared for Bess and she for him. All
+their lives they had been together and loved,--and a simple, truthful
+love can only produce its own affinity, though in its travail it pass
+through pain and suffering, and, maybe, the laying down of life!
+
+Ben Martyn was twenty-five, and his own master, when he asked Bess, who
+had just turned twenty, to be his wife.
+
+"The cottage be waitin', Bess, my gurrl!" he whispered as they sat on
+the cliff in the summer night; she knitting as usual, and he watching
+the needles dart in and out. They were very silent in their love, these
+two, who had been lovers ever since they could paddle.
+
+"'Tis so lawnly betimes!" he pleaded.
+
+And Bess set his longing heart at rest.
+
+"So soon as vather can spare I, Ben," she said; and she laid her
+knitting on the rock beside them, and drew his sea-tanned face close
+down beside her own. "Ee dawn't seek fer I more'n I seek fer ee, deary!"
+and kissed him.
+
+Thus they plighted their troth.
+
+[Sidenote: One Dark Night]
+
+Then came the winter and the hard work. And one dark stormy night, when
+the waves rose and fought till they nearly swept Trewithen out of sight,
+Ben Martyn was drowned.
+
+He had been trying to run his boat into the shelter of the cove and
+failed, and in the morning his battered body lay high and dry on the
+quiet beach among the wreckage.
+
+For weeks Bess lay in a high fever; and then, when the strain was
+greater than her tortured mind could bear, and she had screamed loud and
+long, something snapped in her brain and gave relief. But it left her
+without a memory, and with the ways and speech of a little child.
+
+Her mind was a blank! She played with the seaweed and smiled, till the
+women's hearts were like to break for her, and the words stuck in the
+men's throats as they looked at her and talked.
+
+"She be mazed, poor maid!" they said gently lest she should hear them.
+"'Twould break Ben's heart ef ee knawed 'ur was so!"
+
+That was seven long years ago. And to-night Bess seemed loth to leave
+the fire, but sat hugging her knees in a restless fashion, and staring
+at the blackening embers in a puzzled way. A tremendous blast struck the
+cottage, and nearly shook the kitchen window out of its fastenings. The
+wind came shrieking through the holes in the shutter like a revengeful
+demon, and retreated again with a melancholy groan.
+
+It pleased Bess, and she hugged her knees the tighter, and turned her
+head and waited for the next loud roar. It came, and then another, and
+another, till it seemed almost impossible for the little cottage to hold
+out against its fury!
+
+Then "Daft Bess" sprang from her seat with a cry of gladness, and ran
+out into the night!
+
+Along the path of the cliff she ran as fast as her bare feet would carry
+her, struggling and buffeting with the wind and spray till she reached
+the "cutting" down to the beach.
+
+It was only a broken track where the rocks sloped and jagged a little,
+and not too safe at the best of times. She tried to get a foothold, but
+the wind was too strong, and she was driven back again and again. Then
+it lulled a little, and she began to descend.
+
+Half-way down there was an ugly turn in the path, and she waited for a
+gust to pass before taking it. The wind was stronger than ever out here
+on the front of the cliff, but she held tight to the jagged rock
+above.
+
+Round it swept, tearing loose bits of rock and soil from every corner,
+till her face was cut by the sharpness of the flints!
+
+[Illustration: THE ROCK SHE CLUNG TO GAVE WAY.]
+
+Close against the cliff it blew until she was almost breathless, when
+the rock she clung to gave way, and she fell down and down!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jacob Tressider was awake. He had heard a noise like the breaking of
+delf in the kitchen below, and he wondered if Bess had heard it too. He
+got out of bed and dressed himself, and then came down the ladder which
+did service for a staircase to see what was amiss. The flags in the
+kitchen were strewn with broken plates, and the front kitchen door swung
+loosely on its hinges.
+
+[Sidenote: No Answer!]
+
+He called Bess, but there was no answer! He went into her room, the bed
+was untouched since day! Then he pulled on his great sea-boots and cap
+and went out to look for her.
+
+The day was dawning when they brought her in and laid her on the bed of
+her little room more dead than alive. She was soaked through and
+through, and the seaweed still clung about her hair. Jacob Tresidder
+stood watching her like a man in a dream as she lay there white and
+silent.
+
+"Us be mighty sore fer ee, so us be!" said old Benjamin Blake, who had
+helped to bring her home. "But teddin fer yew nor I, Jacob, tu go
+fornenst His will." And he went out crying like a child.
+
+There was a slight movement of the quiet figure on the coverlid, and
+Jacob Tresidder's heart stopped beating for a moment as he watched his
+daughter's brown eyes open once more! They wandered wonderingly to where
+he was, and rested there, and a faint smile crossed the dying lips.
+
+Then he bowed his head between his hands as he knelt beside her, for he
+knew that God had given her back her memory again; and his sobs were
+the sobs of a thankful heart.
+
+"Vather!" she whispered, and with an effort she stretched the hand
+nearest to him and touched his sleeve. "'Tis--all right--now--I be
+gwine--tu--Ben."
+
+The dying eyes glowed with love; then with a restful sigh the life
+passed out.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They had battened down the last spadeful of new-dug earth, and once
+again there was a storm-bred mound in Trewithen churchyard.
+
+The three old comrades stood together in silence looking down on it,
+making little or no attempt to hide the sorrow that was theirs.
+
+Then Tom Pemberthy said, drawing his hand across his tear-dimmed eyes:
+"Us'll miss ur simple wa-ays, sure 'nuff!"
+
+But it was given to "Clacking Joe" to speak the final words ere they
+turned their faces homewards.
+
+"'Twas awnly right that we laid ur 'longside o' Ben! When ur was a
+little chile ur shrimped with 'n! an' when ur was a gert maiden ur
+walked out with 'n! Please God, ur'll be the furrst tu spake tu 'n--cum
+the aftermath!"
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: SPRING CLEANING.]
+
+[Sidenote: A seasonable chant, possibly useful for recitation purposes.]
+
+A Spring-time Duet
+
+BY
+
+MARY LESLIE
+
+
+          _1st Maiden._ "Oh, Spring is here, the golden sun
+                              Has routed Winter's gloom!"
+
+          _2nd Maiden._ "Good gracious! Jane has not _begun_
+                              To scrub the dining-room!"
+
+
+          _1st Maiden._ "And now the first sweet buds appear,
+                              Symbolic of new hope."
+
+          _2nd Maiden._ "I didn't say 'carbolic,' dear,
+                              I want the _yellow_ soap."
+
+
+          _1st Maiden._ "Like nectar is the morning dew,
+                              Its purity divine
+                             Refreshes all the earth anew."
+
+          _2nd Maiden._ "Ah! here's the turpentine."
+
+
+          _1st Maiden._ "And crystal webs shine bright, as though
+                              Spun on some fairy loom."
+
+          _2nd Maiden._ "A spider's web? I didn't know;
+                              I'll run and fetch the broom!"
+
+
+          _1st Maiden._ "Blooms Nature scatters, fresh and free,
+                              From out her treasure-house."
+
+          _2nd Maiden._ "I'll dust this cupboard thoroughly."
+
+          _Both together._ "Oh, horrors! There's a _mouse_!"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A Canadian boy and girl together were at one moment as happy
+as youth and health could make them, and at the next in imminent danger
+of their lives.]
+
+Out of Deadly Peril
+
+BY
+
+K. BALFOUR MURPHY
+
+
+What on earth had happened to Gladys Merritt?
+
+In the course of a few short weeks the girl was transformed from the
+merriest, most light-hearted creature into one often thoughtful, silent,
+and serious. The question then was, Why had she suddenly changed
+completely? Many guessed, but only two knew the real reason.
+
+Barrie, where Judge Merritt lived, lies at the head of lovely little
+Lake Simcoe, in Western Ontario, Canada. In summer the lake is blue as
+the heavens above, the borders of it are fringed with larch and maple
+that grow right down to the rippling edge and bow to their own
+reflections in the clear waters beneath, while on its glassy surface can
+be seen daily numbers of boats and launches, the whole scene animated by
+merry voices of happy folks, with picnic baskets, bound for the woods,
+or others merely seeking relief from the intense heat on shore. Work is
+finished early in the day in the Colonies, and when school is over and
+the scorching sun begins slowly to sink to rest, social life begins.
+
+But in Canada winter is long and extremely cold. With the fall of the
+beautiful tinted leaves that have changed from green to wonderful shades
+of red, purple, and yellow, Canadians know that summer is gone and that
+frost and snow may come any day, and once come will stay, though an
+unwelcome guest, for at least seven or eight months.
+
+Now the young folks in Barrie relished this long spell of cold--to them
+no part of the year was quite so delightful as winter. What could
+compare with a long sleigh drive over firm thick snow, tucked in with
+soft warm furs and muffled up to the eyes--or tobogganing in the
+moonlight down a long hill--or skimming over clear, smooth ice--or
+candy-making parties--or dances, or a dozen other delights? What indeed?
+On every occasion Gladys seemed to be the centre figure; she was the
+life and soul of every party.
+
+[Sidenote: The "Bunch"]
+
+She was an only child of wealthy parents. Her home was beautiful, her
+father indulgent, her mother like a sister to her; she was a favourite
+everywhere, loved alike by rich and poor. Together with two intimate
+friends and schoolfellows, the girls were commonly known as the "Buds,"
+and they, with half a dozen boys, were called the "Bunch" throughout the
+town. They admitted no outsider to their circle. They danced together at
+parties, boated, picniced, skated, sometimes worked together. There was
+an invisible bond that drew the group near each other, a feeling of
+sympathy and good fellowship, for the "Bunch" was simply a
+whole-hearted, happy crowd of boys and girls about sixteen to nineteen
+years of age.
+
+Winter was at its height. Christmas with all its joys was past, church
+decorations had surpassed the usual standard of beauty, holidays were in
+full swing, and the "Buds" were in great demand. The cold had for five
+weeks been intense, and the barometer on the last day of January sank to
+fifteen below zero. Snow had fallen but little, and the ring of merry,
+tinkling sleigh bells was almost an unknown sound. Tobogganing of
+course was impossible. But as Gladys philosophically remarked one day,
+"Where could you find such skating as in Barrie?"
+
+Great excitement prevailed when the moon was full, for the lake, some
+nine miles in length, was frozen from end to end, with an average
+thickness of three feet, and to the delight of skaters, was entirely
+snow free. Of course parties were the order of the day. Such a chance to
+command a magnificent icefield might not occur again for a long, long
+time.
+
+The "Bunch" instantly decided on a party of their own, and chose a
+glorious night for the expedition. It consisted of the "Buds" and three
+boys. For some time all went well, but Gladys's skate needed tightening,
+and before it was satisfactorily done, the other four were far away, and
+Harry Elliott was left as sole protector to the girl.
+
+Their conversation was mainly about school concerns. The boy was in a
+bank, the girl in her last term at the High School.
+
+"If only I could work at something after I'm finished! What shall I do
+with my life when I have no more lessons? I think everybody should do
+something; I shall soon be tired of lazing through the days."
+
+"Your pater would never let you do anything for money, he is so rich."
+
+"But simply to have a lot of money won't satisfy me, although I'd like
+to earn some. To be a teacher would suit me best, and keep my mind from
+rusting."
+
+"You are awfully clever, you know. I never cared for books and never
+worked till one day--a day I shall never forget."
+
+"What was it about, Harry? Tell me."
+
+The two had chattered about their own concerns without noticing that the
+rest of the "Bunch" had kept to the left side of the lake while they had
+skated straight forward ignoring the deep bay, and were now nearing the
+right shore. The ice was smooth as glass, each was an accomplished
+skater, and together they had made a brilliant run without a pause after
+the tightening of the screw. Now, hot and breathless, they paused for a
+few moments, and only then realised that they were about three miles
+distant from the rest of the party. Harry drew off his thick woollen
+mittens and unloosened his muffler, as together they stood looking at
+the glistening landscape around them.
+
+"I think we ought to turn; we are a long way from home."
+
+"Just let us touch shore first and get to the 'Black Stone'; that would
+be a record spin."
+
+"All right, then, come along, and tell me what happened that day. You
+know."
+
+Hand-in-hand the two started off once more in the direction of the
+"Black Stone." Far and wide there was not a human being visible. Not a
+sound except the swish, swish of their skates and their own voices fell
+on the clear, still air of the glorious night.
+
+[Sidenote: Harry's Story]
+
+"I never was clever," began Harry, "and am not now. I used to be quite
+satisfied that kings and other celebrated people really had lived and
+died without learning a whole rigmarole about their lives. Really it did
+not interest me a bit. Geography was the same, composition was worse,
+mathematics was worst. I seemed always to be in hot water at school.
+Then one day the old man (we always called Jackson Spencer that) said
+after class was over--and of course I hadn't answered once--'Elliott, go
+to my room and wait for me.' I tell you, Gladys, I shivered; I didn't
+know what I was in for. Old man walked right in and shut the door, after
+having left me alone about ten minutes, and just said, 'Come and sit
+down, boy, I want to say something to you.' You could have knocked me
+over I was so surprised. He then said: 'Look here, Elliott, you are not
+a bad chap, but do you know that you are as blind as an owl?' I rubbed
+my eyes and said, 'No, sir, I can see all right.'
+
+"'You must be very short-sighted, then.'
+
+"Of course I said nothing.
+
+"'Did you ever think why your father sent you to school?'
+
+"'No-o, sir.'
+
+"'I thought so, but I'm going to tell you. He is not a rich man, Harry,
+but he pays me to teach you all that will help you to rise above the
+level of an ignorant labourer. Culture and education are as necessary to
+a gentleman as bread is for food. I am doing my utmost, but I cannot
+pour instruction down your throat any more than you can make a horse
+drink by leading him to the trough. Now look here, boy, with all your
+faults you are no coward; haven't you the pluck to get to know yourself
+and stop being a shirker? Think what that means! A fellow never to be
+trusted, a lazy, good-for-nothing, cowardly loafer. Remember, if you
+don't work, you are taking your father's money under false pretences,
+which is only another word for dishonesty. Think about what I've said;
+turn over a page and start a new chapter. You can go, and mind--I trust
+you.'"
+
+"What a splendid old boy!" exclaimed Gladys. "What did you do?"
+
+"Do! I worked like a beaver for the balance of school life, I'd so much
+to make good. We shall touch the 'Stone' in a couple of----"
+
+The sentence was never finished, for without warning, out of sight of a
+helping hand, Gladys and Harry skated right through a large hole, left
+by an ice-cutter without being marked by boughs, into ten feet of
+freezing water.
+
+The shock was tremendous, but being fine swimmers they naturally struck
+out, trying to grasp the slippery ice.
+
+To his horror Harry knew that his gloves were in his pocket, and now,
+try as he would, his hands would not grip the ice. Gladys had been
+entrusted to his care: not only would his life be the price of having
+separated from the "Bunch," but infinitely worse, she must share the
+same fate.
+
+Despair lent him strength to support the girl with his left arm while he
+tried to swing his right leg over and dig the heel of his skate into the
+ice.
+
+But all in vain, he tried and tried again. Numbed with cold, he felt
+himself growing weaker and he knew that the end could not be far off
+should the next attempt fail.
+
+One more struggle--one last effort--and the skate, thank Heaven, had
+caught! Then came the last act. Clenching his teeth and wildly imploring
+help from on high, Harry gathered together his last remnant of strength,
+and swung the girl on to the ice--Gladys was saved!
+
+The boy's heart beat, his panting breath seemed to suffocate him, the
+strain had been so fearful; now he could do no more, he seemed to make
+no effort to save himself.
+
+"Harry! Harry!" cried Gladys; "you must try more! I'm all right and can
+help you--see, I am here close by!" she cried, frantic with terror. "It
+will be all right directly," she added bravely as she lay flat down and
+crept up to the edge of the ice.
+
+The boy heard her encouraging words, but still made no progress.
+
+"You are not doing your best, Harry! Think of me, if not of yourself.
+Remember, I am alone and so frightened. Oh! do be quick. Here, take hold
+of my hands."
+
+This time her words went home, and the boy, half-paralysed with cold and
+completely worn out, remembered his responsibility.
+
+"Come along, Harry--hold hard! Yes, I can bear the weight!" called out
+the courageous girl as she lay in her freezing garments on the ice, the
+strain of the lad's weight dragging her arms almost from their sockets.
+
+[Sidenote: Pluck Rewarded]
+
+At last their pluck was rewarded. Heaven was good to them, and Harry
+Elliott, trembling in every limb, his teeth chattering, his face pale as
+the moon, stood by Gladys on solid ice. There was no time to waste in
+words, the boy merely stretched out his hand to the exhausted girl and
+started across the lake to the nearest house.
+
+Not a word was spoken; they just sped onward, at first slowly and
+laboriously, until the blood began to circulate and progress became
+easier. When they reached the shore, they stood encased in solid ice,
+their wet clothes frozen stiff by the keen frost of the glorious night.
+
+Not for some days did Gladys betray any signs of the mental shock she
+had received. Anxious parents and a careful doctor kept her in bed for a
+week, while Harry occupied his usual place at the bank.
+
+It was during that week that the change in Gladys took place. She had
+plenty of time for thought. Recollections of her nearness to death, of
+her horror while under the ice, of her terror when saved, of seeing her
+brave rescuer sink, all these scenes made a deep and lasting impression
+on her, and she realised that life can never be made up of pleasures
+only.
+
+When she met the rest of the "Bunch," her quietness puzzled them, her
+determination to go no more on the ice distressed them. But in her own
+heart Gladys felt that she had gained by her approach to death, for in
+the deadly struggle she had been brought near to God. As for Harry
+Elliott, need I forecast the trend of the two lives that were so nearly
+taken away together?
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Mike, the old Raven, is the central figure of this story for
+younger girls.]
+
+The Pearl-rimmed Locket
+
+BY
+
+M. B. MANWELL
+
+
+March came in with a roar that year. The elms of Old Studley creaked and
+groaned loudly as the wild wind tossed them about like toys.
+
+"I'm frighted to go to bed," wailed little Jinty Ransom, burying her
+face in Mrs. Barbara's lap, when she had finished saying her prayers.
+
+"Ah, dear, 'taint for we to be frightened at anything God sends! Do'ent
+He hold the storms in the hollow of His hand? And thou, dear maid,
+what's wind and tempest that's only 'fulfilling His word' compared wi'
+life's storms that will gather over thy sunny head one day, sure as
+sure?" Mrs. Barbara, the professor's ancient housekeeper, laid her
+knotted hand on the golden curls on her lap.
+
+But "thou, dear maid" could not look ahead so far. It was more than
+enough for Jinty that Nature's waves and storms were passing over her at
+the moment.
+
+"Sit beside my bed, and talk me to sleep, please, Mrs. Barbara, dear!"
+entreated the little girl, clutching tightly at the old lady's skirts.
+
+So Mrs. Barbara seated herself, knitting in hand, by the little white
+bed, and Jinty listened to the stories she loved best of all, those of
+the days when her father was a little boy and played under the great
+elms of Old Studley with Mike, the ancient raven, that some people
+declared was a hundred years old at least. He was little more than a
+dream-father, for he had been for most of Jinty's little life away in
+far-off China in the diplomatic service. Her sweet, young, gentle mother
+Jinty did not remember at all, for she dwelt in a land that is
+far-and-away farther off than China, a land:
+
+          "Where loyal hearts and true
+             Stand ever in the light,
+           All rapture through and through
+             In God's most holy sight."
+
+"And, really and truly, Mrs. Barbara, was it the very same Mike and not
+another raven that pecked at father's little legs same's he pecks at
+mine?" Jinty inquired sleepily.
+
+"The very self-same. Thief that he is and was!" wrathfully said Mrs.
+Barbara, who detested the venerable raven, a bird that gave himself the
+airs of being one of the family of Old Studley, and stirred up more
+mischief than a dozen human boys even.
+
+"Why," grumbled on the old lady, "there's poor Sally Bent, the henwife,
+she's driven distracted with Mike's thievish tricks. This week only he
+stole seven eggs, three on 'em turkey's eggs no less. He set himself on
+the watch, he did, and as soon as an egg was laid he nipped it up warm,
+and away with it! If 'twasn't for master's anger I'd strangle that evil
+bird, I should. Why, bless her! The little maid's asleep, she is!"
+
+And Mrs. Barbara crept away to see after her other helpless charge, the
+good old professor who lived so far back in the musty-fusty past that he
+would never remember to feed his body, so busy was he in feasting his
+mind on the dead languages.
+
+Next morning the tearing winds had departed, the stately elms were
+motionless at rest, and the sun beat down with a fierce radiance, upon
+the red brick walls of Old Studley.
+
+Jinty Ransom leaned out of her latticed window and smiled contentedly
+back at the genial sun.
+
+"Ah, thou maid, come down and count over the crocus flowers!" called up
+Mrs. Barbara from the green lawn below. "I fear me that thief Mike has
+nipped off the heads of a few dozens, out o' pure wicked mischief."
+
+Presently Jinty was flashing like a sunbeam in and out of the old house.
+
+"I must go round and scold Mike, then I'll come, back for breakfast,
+Mrs. Barbara. Grandpapa's not down yet."
+
+[Sidenote: Mike on the War-path]
+
+But scolding's a game two can play at. Mike charged at Jinty with a
+volley of angry chatter and fierce flappings of his heavy black wings.
+It was no good trying to get in a word about the headless crocus plants
+or the seven stolen eggs.
+
+"Anybody would think that I was the thief who stole them, not you!"
+indignantly said Jinty. Then Mike craned suddenly forward to give the
+straight little legs a wicked nip, and Jinty fled with shrieks, to the
+proud ecstasy of the raven, who "hirpled" at her heels into the
+dining-room, into the learned presence of the old professor, by whom the
+mischievous Mike was welcomed as if he were a prince of the blood.
+
+The raven knew, none better, that he had the freedom of the city, and at
+once set to work to abuse it. A sorry breakfast-table it was in less
+than five minutes. Here and there over the white tablecloth Mike
+scuttled and scrambled. His beak plunged into the cream-jug, then deep
+into the butter, next aimed a dab at the marmalade, and then he uttered
+a wrathful shriek became the bacon was too hot for his taste.
+
+"My patience! Flesh and blood couldn't stand this!" Mrs. Barbara came
+in, her hands in the air.
+
+But the professor neither saw nor heard the old housekeeper's anger.
+
+"Wonderful, wonderful!" he was admiringly ejaculating. "Behold the
+amazing instinct implanted by nature. See how the feathered epicure
+picks and chooses his morning meal!"
+
+"If a 'feathered pickyer' means a black thief as ever was, sir, that
+bird's well named!" said the housekeeper wrathfully.
+
+At last Mike made his final choice, and, out of pure contrariness, it
+was the bowl of hot bread and milk prepared for Jinty's breakfast from
+which he flatly refused to be elbowed away.
+
+"My pretty! Has it snatched the very cup from thy lip!" Mrs. Barbara's
+indignation boiled over against the bold audacious tyrant so abetted by
+its master--and hers. "If I'd but my will o' thee, thou thief, I'd flog
+thee sore!" she added.
+
+          "Quoth the raven: never more!"
+
+solemnly edged in the professor, with a ponderous chuckle over his own
+aptitude which went unapplauded save by himself.
+
+"I want my breakfast, grandpapa," whimpered Jinty.
+
+It was all very funny indeed to witness Mike's reckless charge of
+destruction over the snowy tablecloth, but, when it came to his calm
+appropriation of her own breakfast, why, as Mrs. Barbara said, "Flesh
+and blood couldn't stand it."
+
+"Have a cup of black coffee and some omelette, dearling!" said the
+professor, who would not have called anybody "darling" for the world.
+Then the reckless old gentleman proceeded to placidly sort the letters
+lying on the breakfast-table, comfortably unconscious that little maids
+"cometh up" on different fare from that of tough old veterans.
+
+"Why, why! Here's a surprise for us all!" Pushing back his spectacles
+into the very roots of his white hair, the professor stared feebly round
+on the company, and twiddled in his fingers a sheet of thin foreign
+paper.
+
+"Yes, sir?" Mrs. Barbara turned to her master eagerly alert for the
+news, and Jinty wondered if it were to say the dream-father was coming
+home at last.
+
+But Mike, though some folk believe that ravens understand every word you
+say, continued to dip again and again into his stolen bread and milk
+with a lofty indifference. It might be an earthquake that had come to
+Old Studley for all he knew. What if it were? There would always be a
+ledge of rock somewhere about where he, Mike, could hold on in safety if
+the earth were topsy-turvy. Besides, he had now scooped up the last
+scrap of Jinty's breakfast, and it behoved him to be up and doing some
+mischief.
+
+His bold black eye caught a gleam of silver, an opportunity ready to his
+beak. It was a quaint little Norwegian silver salt-cellar in the form of
+a swan. Mike, with his head on one side, considered the feasibility of
+removing that ancient Norse relic quietly. Then, afraid perhaps of
+bringing about bad luck by spilling the salt, he gave up the idea and
+stole softly away, unnoticed by his betters, who seemed ridiculously
+occupied with a thin, rustling sheet of paper.
+
+But to this day Mrs. Barbara has never found the salt-spoon, a little
+silver oar, belonging to that Norse salt-cellar, and she never will,
+that's certain.
+
+"Extraordinary, most extraordinary!" the professor was repeating. Then,
+when Mrs. Barbara felt she could bear it no longer, he went on to read
+out the foreign letter.
+
+It was from his son, Jinty's father, and told how his life had been
+recently in grave peril. His house had been attacked by native rioters,
+and he would certainly have been murdered had it not been for the
+warning of a friendly Chinaman. Mr. Ransom escaped in the darkness, but
+the loyal native who had saved him, paid the cost with his own life. He
+was cruelly hacked to pieces for his so-called treachery. When the
+rioters were quelled by a British detachment, Mr. Ransom's first
+thought was for the family of his faithful friend. But it was too late.
+With the exception of one tiny girl all had been killed by the rioters.
+This forlorn little orphan was already on her way crossing the Pacific,
+for she was to be housed and educated at Old Studley with Mr. Ransom's
+own little daughter, and at his expense. Common gratitude could do no
+less.
+
+[Sidenote: Ah Lon]
+
+The letter went on to say that Ah Lon, the little Chinese maiden, was a
+well-brought-up child, her father belonging to the anti-foot-binding
+community which is fast making its way throughout China. She would
+therefore be no more trouble in the old home than a little English girl,
+than father's own Jinty, in fact.
+
+"Well, of course," said the Professor meditatively, "the heavy end of
+the beam will come upon you, my good Barbara. There's plenty of room in
+the old house for this young stranger, but she will be a great charge
+for you."
+
+"'Deed, sir, and it's a charge I never looked to have put upon me!"
+quavered the scandalised Mrs. Barbara, twisting the corner of her apron
+agitatedly. "A haythen Chinee under this respected roof where there's
+been none but Christian Ransoms for generations back!"
+
+"There, there!" said her master soothingly. "Your motherly heart would
+never turn away a poor orphan from our door!"
+
+But Mrs. Barbara sniffed herself out of the room, and it was weeks
+before she reconciled herself to the new and disagreeable prospect.
+
+Indeed, when poor, shivering Ah Lon arrived at Old Studley, the good
+woman nearly swooned at the spectacle of a little visitor arrayed in
+dark blue raiment consisting of a long, square-shaped jacket and full
+trousers, and a bare head stuck over with well-oiled queues of black
+hair.
+
+"I thought as Mr. William wrote it was a girl, sir!" she gasped faintly,
+with a shocked face.
+
+But the old professor was in ecstasies. All he could think of was the
+fact that under his roof was a being who could converse in pure Chinese;
+in truth, poor bewildered Ah Lon could not speak in anything else but
+her native tongue. He would have carried her off to his study and
+monopolised her, but Mrs. Barbara's sense of propriety was fired.
+
+"No, sir," she interposed firmly. "If that being's the girl Mr. William
+sent she's got to look as such in some of Miss Jinty's garments and
+immediately."
+
+So Ah Lon, trembling like a leaf, was carried off to be attired like a
+little English child.
+
+"But as for looking like one, that she never will!" Mrs. Barbara
+hopelessly regarded the strangely-wide little yellow face, the singular
+eyes narrow as slits, and the still more singular eyebrows.
+
+"Oh, never mind how she looks!" Jinty put her arms round the little
+yellow neck and lovingly kissed the stranger, who summarily shook her
+off. Perhaps Ah Lon was not accustomed to kisses at home.
+
+It was a rebuff, and Jinty got many another as the days went on. Do what
+she could to please and amuse the little foreigner, Ah Lon shrank from
+her persistently.
+
+[Illustration: HORRIBLE DREAMS OF MONSTERS AND DEMONS.]
+
+All Jinty's treasures, dolls and toys and keepsakes were exhibited, but
+Ah Lon turned away indifferently. The Chinese girl, in truth, was deadly
+home-sick, but she would have died rather than confess it, even to the
+professor, the only person who understood her speech. She detested the
+new, strange country, the queer, unknown food, the outlandish ways. Yet
+she was in many respects happier. Some of the old hardships of girl life
+in China were gone. Some old fears began to vanish, and her nights were
+no longer disturbed with horrible dreams of monsters and demons.
+
+But of all things in and about Old Studley Ah Lon most detested Mike the
+raven, and Mike seemed fully to return her dislike. He pecked viciously
+at the spindly Chinese legs and sent Ah Lon into convulsions of terror.
+
+"Ah well, bad as he is, Mike's British same's I am, and he do hate a
+foreigner!" said Mrs. Barbara appreciatively.
+
+Time went on and Jinty began to shoot up; she was growing quite tall,
+and Ah Lon also grew apace. But, still, though the little foreigner
+could now find her way about in the language of her new country, she
+shut her heart against kind little Jinty's advances.
+
+"She won't have anything to say to me!" complained Jinty, "she won't
+make friends, Mrs. Barbara! The only thing she will look at is my pearl
+locket, she likes that!"
+
+Indeed Ah Lon seemed never tired of gazing at the pearl-rimmed locket
+which hung by a slender little chain round Jinty's neck, and contained
+the miniature of her pretty young mother so long dead. The little
+Chinese never tired of stroking the sweet face looking out from the rim
+of pearls.
+
+"Do you say prayers to it?" she asked, in her stammering English.
+
+"Prayers, no!" Jinty was shocked. "I only pray to our Father and to the
+good Jesus. Why, you wouldn't pray to a picture?"
+
+Ah Lon was silent. So perhaps she had been praying to the sweet painted
+face already, who could say?
+
+It was soon after this talk that the two little girls sat in the study
+one morning. Ah Lon was at the table by the side of the professor, an
+open atlas between them and the old gentleman in his element.
+
+But Jinty sat apart, strangely quiet.
+
+Ah Lon, watching out of her slits of eyes, had never seen Jinty so dull
+and silent. And all that summer day it was the same.
+
+"What's amiss with my dear maid?" anxiously asked Mrs. Barbara, when
+bed-time came.
+
+Then it all came out.
+
+"I've lost my pearl-rimmed locket!" sobbed Jinty. "Ah Lon asked to look
+at it this morning the first thing; she always does, you know. And I
+took it off, and then Mike pecked my legs and Ah Lon's so hard that we
+both ran away screaming, and I must have dropped the locket--and it's
+gone!"
+
+"Gone! That can't be! Unless--unless----" Mrs. Barbara hesitated, and
+Jinty knew they were thinking the same thing. "Have you told Ah Lon,
+deary?"
+
+"I did this afternoon, and she cried. I never saw her cry before!"
+
+"Ah, jes' so! You can't trust they foreigners. But I'll sift this
+business, I shall!" vigorously said Mrs. Barbara.
+
+But for days the disappearance of the locket was a mystery. In Mrs.
+Barbara's mind there was no doubt that Ah Lon had taken the coveted
+picture and concealed it in safe hiding. Jinty almost thought so too,
+and a gloom crept over Old Studley. "I dursn't tell the master, he's
+that wrapped up in the wicked little yellow-faced creature. I'll step
+over to the parson and tell he," Mrs. Barbara decided, and arraying
+herself in her Sunday best, she sallied forth to the vicarage.
+
+As she crossed the little common shouts and laughter and angry chatter
+fell on her ear.
+
+A group of schoolboys, the parson's four little sons, were closing in
+round a dark object.
+
+"Why, if that isn't our Mike! I never knew the bird to go outside of Old
+Studley before. What----"
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Barbara, do come along here!" Reggie, the eldest of the four,
+turned his head and beckoned her.
+
+[Sidenote: Mike's Mishap]
+
+"Here's a nice go! We've run your Mike in, and see his fury, do! Our
+Tommy was looking for birds' eggs in the Old Studley hedge, and he saw a
+shine of gold and pulled out this! And Mike chased him, madly pecking
+his legs, out here to the common. And now he's fit to fly at me because
+I've got his stolen goods. Look, do!"
+
+Reggie doubled up with yells of laughter, and Mike, in a storm of fury,
+shrieked himself hoarse.
+
+But Mrs. Barbara stood dumb.
+
+In a flash the truth had come to her.
+
+Mike, not poor Ah Lon, was the thief. She tingled all over with
+remorseful shame as she crept home with the locket in her hand.
+
+"Oh, and we thought you had stolen it, Ah Lon dear!" Jinty confessed,
+with wild weeping; but Ah Lon was placidly smoothing the precious little
+picture. It was enough for her that it had come back. "Grandpapa must
+know; he must be told!" went on Jinty, determined not to spare herself.
+
+When the professor heard the whole story he was very quiet indeed. But a
+few days after he went up to London on a little visit, and when he
+returned he called Jinty into the study.
+
+"This," he said, opening a case, "will perhaps make up to the friendless
+little stranger for your unjust suspicions!" He handed Jinty a
+pearl-edged locket with a painting of a Chinese lady's head. "Chinese
+faces are so similar that it may serve as a remembrance of her own
+mother. And this, Jinty dearling, will keep alive in your memory one of
+our Lord's behests!" From another case came a dainty silver bangle
+inside of which Jinty read, with misty eyes, the engraved words: _Judge
+not!_
+
+But already their meaning was engraved on her heart; and--as time won Ah
+Lon's shy affections--she and the little Chinese stranger grew to be as
+true sisters under the roof of Old Studley.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: The artistic life sometimes leaves those who follow it
+largely dependent upon the stimulus and the aid which the devotion of
+others may supply. Rembrandt was a case in point, and the story of his
+sister's life is worth recalling.]
+
+Rembrandt's Sister
+
+A Noble Life Recalled
+
+BY
+
+HENRY WILLIAMS
+
+
+The first glimpse we get of the noble woman who is the subject of this
+sketch gives us the key to her whole character. Her brother, the famous
+Paul Rembrandt, had come home from school in disgrace, and it is as his
+defender that Louise Gerretz first shows herself to the world. Her
+tender, sympathetic heart could find excuse for a brother who would not
+learn Latin because even as a child his heart was set upon becoming a
+painter. We know how he succeeded, but it is not always one's early
+desires are fulfilled so completely as they were in Paul's case.
+
+It was in the evening of the very same day on which Louise championed
+her brother's cause that we find her almost heart-broken, yet bravely
+hiding her own grief and comforting her younger sisters and brothers in
+a terrible affliction, the most terrible that can overtake a family of
+young children. This was the sudden death of the beloved mother, who had
+been an invalid for some time. The father was a drunken sot, who had
+fallen into heavy slumber even while his dying wife was uttering her
+last request to him on earth; this was that he would make an artist of
+the young Paul, instead of a lawyer, as was his intention.
+
+The next day, while preparations were going on for the funeral, the
+brutal husband sought refuge from remorse in the bottle, so that for the
+most part of the day he was hopelessly drunk. In this emergency Louise
+(who was only fifteen) took the direction of affairs into her own hands.
+The little ones had been crying all day for their mother, and would not
+be even separated from the corpse. They were inconsolable, and at last
+the youngest sobbed out, "Who will be our mother now?"
+
+At this question Louise arose, and said, with deep and solemn
+earnestness, "I will!"
+
+There was something in her manner which struck the children with wonder.
+Their tears ceased immediately. It seemed as if an angel stood beside
+Louise, and said, "Behold your mother!"
+
+"Do you not wish me for your mother?" she repeated.
+
+The little ones ran into her embrace. She folded her arms around them,
+and all wept together.
+
+She had conquered the children with love, and they were no more trouble
+to her. They all gladly gave the promise to look up to and obey her in
+everything.
+
+But a harder task was before her. Strangers were present who must soon
+find out that her father was intoxicated, on this day of all others, if
+she did not get him out of the way. She succeeded at last, after
+infinite pains, and that so well that no one knew the state he was in,
+and thus he was saved from the open disgrace that would surely have
+followed him had it got about.
+
+The sad duties of the funeral over, Louise Gerretz braced herself to the
+task of looking after the numerous household affairs. Nor was this all
+she had to do, for her father carried on the business of a miller, and
+because of his drunken habits his daughter had the workpeople to look
+after, and also the shop to attend to. But she was sustained by the
+thought that her sainted mother was looking on her from heaven, and this
+helped her to bear up during the trying times that followed.
+
+She now determined that, if it were possible, her brother Paul--who,
+afterwards following the usual custom amongst painters of the time,
+changed his name to Rembrandt--should have every opportunity afforded
+him of following his natural bent.
+
+[Sidenote: "I will be a Painter!"]
+
+But no sooner was the subject broached to M. Gerretz than his anger
+blazed forth, and though Louise withstood him for some time, she felt
+her cherished plans would receive no consideration whatever from a
+father who was three-parts of his time crazed with drink. Little Paul,
+who was present, seeing that the appeal would probably end in failure,
+exclaimed, with determined voice, "I will be a painter!"
+
+A blow aimed at him was his father's reply. The blow missed its mark,
+but struck the sister-mother to the earth. Heedless of his own danger,
+Paul raised his sister's head, and bathed it tenderly until she came to
+herself again. Even the brutish Gerretz was somewhat shocked by what he
+had done, yet seizing what he thought an advantage, he cried, "Hark ye,
+young rascal! You mind not blows any more than my plain orders; but your
+sister helps you out in all your disobedience, and if you offend me I
+will punish her."
+
+The brutal threat had its desired effect, and young Paul returned to
+those studies which were intended to make a lawyer of him.
+
+Every spare moment, however, he spent in his favourite pursuit. His
+materials were of the roughest: a charred stick, a lump of chalk, and a
+flour sack. Not very encouraging tools, one would think, and yet the
+genius that was within would not be hid. He produced from memory a
+portrait of his mother, that had such an effect upon the father that the
+latter, affected to tears by the sight of his dead wife's face,
+dismissed the boy with his blessing, and promised him he should be a
+painter after all.
+
+Great was Louise's joy; and then, like the loving, practical sister she
+was, she immediately set about the young artist's outfit. Nor did she
+pause until everything was in apple-pie order.
+
+Surely God was strengthening and comforting His own. Just consider; here
+was a young girl, now only sixteen years of age, who had the management
+of a miller's business, was a mother and sister in one to three young
+children, and, one is almost tempted to say, was also a tender, loving
+wife to a drunken, incapable father.
+
+The journey to Leyden, whither Paul was bound, was not without incident
+of a somewhat romantic kind. As the vehicle in which Louise and the
+future great painter sat neared Leyden, they came upon a man who lay
+insensible upon the road. The tender heart of the girl was touched, and
+she stopped and restored the man to consciousness, and then pressed
+further assistance upon him. The grateful recipient of her kindness,
+however, soon feeling strong enough, proceeded on his way alone.
+
+The scene had not passed without a witness, though, who proved to be
+none other than the eminent master-painter Van Zwanenburg, who joined
+himself to the little party. But his brow darkened when he learned the
+purport of the young traveller's journey, and he spoke no more for some
+time, for he was a misanthrope, and, consequently, took small share in
+the hopes and pleasures of others. Soon after, however, as they were
+passing a forge, young Paul stopped and clapped his hands with delight
+at the sight of the ruddy light cast on the faces of the workmen.
+
+"Canst thou sketch this scene?" asked Van Zwanenburg. Paul took a
+pencil, and in a few moments traced a sketch, imperfect, no doubt, but
+one in which the principal effects of light and shade especially were
+accurately produced.
+
+"Young girl," said the painter, "you need go no further. I am Van
+Zwanenburg, and I admit your brother from this minute to my studio."
+
+Further conversation ensued, and Van Zwanenburg soon learned the whole
+sorrowful tale, and also the courage and devotedness of this young
+foster-mother. He dismissed her with a blessing, misanthrope even as he
+was, and then carried Paul to his studio, lighter at heart for having
+done a kind action.
+
+Sorrowful, and yet with a glad heart, did Louise part from little Paul,
+and then turn homewards. Little did she dream of the great sorrow that
+was there awaiting her.
+
+[Sidenote: Lost in the Forest]
+
+Arriving at home in the dark, she was startled to find that no one
+answered her repeated knocking. Accompanied by an old servant, who had
+been with her in the journey, she was about to seek assistance from the
+neighbours, when lights were seen in the adjoining forest. She hastened
+towards these, and was dismayed to learn that the two children left at
+home had strayed away and got lost in the forest. M. Gerretz was amongst
+the searchers, nearly frantic. The men were about to give up the search
+when Louise, with a prayer for strength on her lips, appealed to them to
+try once more. She managed to regulate the search this time, sending the
+men off singly in different directions, so as to cover as much ground as
+possible. Then with her father she set out herself.
+
+It was morning when they returned. Gerretz, sober enough now, was
+bearing the insensible form of the brave girl in his arms. She
+recovered, but only to learn that one of the children had been brought
+in dead, while the other was nearly so. This sister thus brought so near
+to death's door was to prove a sore trial in the future to poor Louise.
+
+A hard life lay before Louise, and it was only by God's mercy that she
+was enabled to keep up under the manifold trials that all too thickly
+strewed her path. Her father, sobered for a time by the dreadful death
+of his child, through his own negligence, soon fell back into his evil
+ways, and became more incapable than ever. The business would have gone
+to the dogs had it not been for his heroic daughter, who not only looked
+after the household, but managed the mill and shop as well. All this was
+done in such a quiet, unostentatious manner that no one of their friends
+or customers but thought that the father was the chief manager.
+
+But Louise had other trials in store. Her sister Therese was growing up
+into young womanhood, and rebelled against her gentle, loving authority.
+The father aided Therese in the rebellion, as he thought Louise kept too
+tight a hold of the purse-strings. Between father and sister, poor
+Louise had a hard time of it; she even, at one time, was compelled to
+sell some valued trinkets to pay a bill that was due, because money she
+had put by for the purpose was squandered in drink and finery.
+
+The father died, and then after many years we see Louise Gerretz
+established in the house of Van Zwanenburg the artist, the same who had
+taken young Paul as a pupil. Both Louise and Paul were now his adopted
+children; nor was he without his reward. Under the beneficent rule of
+the gentle Louise things went so smoothly that the artist and his pupils
+blessed the day when she came amongst them.
+
+But before the advent of Louise, her brother Paul had imbibed a great
+share of his master's dark and gloomy nature, and, what was perhaps even
+worse, had already, young as he was, acquired the habit of looking at
+everything from a money-making standpoint.
+
+Another great sorrow was in store for Louise, though she came from the
+ordeal with flying colours, and once more the grand self-sacrificing
+nature of the young woman shone out conspicuous amidst its surroundings
+of sordid self-interest. It was in this way. The nephew of Van
+Zwanenburg, with the approval of his uncle, wooed and eventually
+obtained her consent to their marriage.
+
+On the death of the father, Therese had been taken home by an aunt, who
+possessed considerable means, to Brussels. The aunt was now dead, and
+Therese, who inherited some of her wealth, came to reside near her
+sister and brother. She was prepossessing and attractive, and very soon
+it became evident that the lover of Louise, whose name was Saturnin, had
+transferred his affection to the younger sister. Saturnin, to his
+credit, did try to overcome his passion for Therese, but only found
+himself becoming more hopelessly in love with her handsome face and
+engaging ways. Van Zwanenburg stormed, and even forbade the young man
+his house.
+
+Louise herself seemed to be the only one who did not see how things were
+going. She was happy in her love, which, indeed, was only increased by
+the thought that her promised husband and her sister seemed to be on the
+best of terms.
+
+But one day she received a terrible awakening from her happy dreams. She
+heard two voices whispering, and, almost mechanically, stopped to
+listen. It was Saturnin and Therese. "I will do my duty," Saturnin was
+saying; "I will wed Louise. I will try to hide from her that I have
+loved another, even though I die through it."
+
+Great was the grief of poor Louise, though, brave girl as she was, she
+strove to stifle her feelings, lest she should give pain to those she
+loved. A little later she sought Van Zwanenburg, and begged that he
+would restore Saturnin to favour, and consent to his marriage with
+Therese. She was successful in her mission of love, though not at first.
+
+[Sidenote: A Terrible Blow]
+
+Hiding her almost broken heart, Louise now strove to find comfort in the
+thought that she had made others happy, though she had to admit it was
+at a terrible cost to herself.
+
+Her unselfishness had a great effect upon the old artist, whose
+admiration for his adopted daughter now knew no bounds. Through her he
+was restored to his faith in human nature, and he asked God to forgive
+him for ever doubting the existence of virtue.
+
+We cannot follow Louise Gerretz through the next twenty years. Suffice
+it to say that during that time Van Zwanenburg passed peacefully away,
+and that Paul Rembrandt, whose reputation was now well established, had
+married. The lonely sister tried to get on with Paul's wife, but after a
+few years she had sadly to seek a home of her own.
+
+At the end of the twenty years Louise one day received the following
+curt letter from her miserly brother:
+
+
+          "SISTER,--My wife is dead, my son is travelling, I
+          am alone.
+
+                                             "PAUL REMBRANDT."
+
+The devoted sister, still intent on making others happy, started at once
+to her brother, and until the day of his death she never left him. A
+great change had come over Rembrandt. He had become more morose and
+bitter than ever. Success had only seemed to harden his heart, until
+nothing but the chinking of gold had any effect upon it. He was
+immensely wealthy, but a miser. As the years passed the gloom settled
+deeper upon his soul, until finally he shut himself up in his dark
+studio, and would see no one but Jews and money-brokers. At times he
+would not let a picture go unless it had been covered with gold, as the
+price of it. With all this wealth, the house of the famous painter bore
+a poverty-stricken look, which was copied in the person of Rembrandt
+himself.
+
+Just before the end, when he felt himself seized by his death-sickness,
+Paul one day called his sister to his bedside, and, commanding her to
+raise a trapdoor in the floor of his bedroom, showed her his hoard of
+gold. He then begged, as his last request, that he should be buried
+privately, and that neither his son, nor indeed any one, should know
+that he died rich. Louise was to have everything, and the graceless son
+nothing.
+
+[Sidenote: Louise's Refusal]
+
+Great was his anger when his sister declared she should not keep the
+gold, but would take care that it passed into the hands of those who
+would know how to use it properly. Louise was firm, and Rembrandt was
+powerless to do more than toss about in his distress. But gradually,
+under the gentle admonitions of his sister, the artist's vision seemed
+to expand, and before his death he was enabled to see where and how he
+had made shipwreck of his happiness. Thanks to the ministrations of his
+sister, his end was a peaceful one, and he died blessing her for all her
+devotion to him.
+
+Louise's own useful and devoted life was now near its close.
+
+After winding up the affairs of her brother, she undertook to pay a
+visit to her sister, who had fallen ill. It was too much for the good
+old soul; she died on the journey.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Hepsie's misdeed led, when she understood it, to a bold act
+which had very gratifying results.]
+
+Hepsie's Christmas Visit
+
+BY
+
+MAUD MADDICK
+
+
+"I say, little mother," said Hepsie, as she tucked her hand under Mrs.
+Erldon's arm, and hurried her along the snowy path from the old church
+door, "I say--I've been thinking what a jolly and dear old world this
+is, and if only the people in it were a little bit nicer, why, there
+wouldn't be a thing to grumble at, would there?"
+
+Mrs. Erldon turned her rather sad, but sweet face towards her little
+daughter, and smiled at her.
+
+Somehow folks often _did_ smile at Hepsie. She was such a breezy brisk
+sort of child, and had a way of looking at life in general that was
+distinctly interesting.
+
+"Of course, dearie," she went on, in that protecting little manner
+Hepsie loved to adopt when talking to her beloved mother, "you can't
+imagine I am thinking of people like you. If every one were half--no--a
+quarter as delightful as _you_, the world would be charming. Oh dear no,
+I am not flattering at all, I am just speaking the truth; but there
+aren't many of your kind about, as I find out more and more every day."
+
+"My dearest of little girls," interrupted her mother, as they turned
+into Sunnycoombe Lane, where the snow lay crisply shining, and the trees
+were flecked with that dainty tracing of frozen white, "you look at me
+through glasses of love, and _they_ have a knack of painting a person as
+fair as you wish that one to be. Supposing you give the rest of the
+world a little of their benefit, Hepsie mine!"
+
+[Sidenote: An Unruly Member]
+
+Hepsie flung back her head, and laughed lightly. "Oh, you artful little
+mother! That's your gentle way of telling me, what, of course, I
+know--that I am a horrid girl for impatience and temper, when I get
+vexed; but you know, mother darling, I shall never be able to manage my
+tongue. It was born too long, and though on this very Christmas morning
+I have been making ever so many good resolutions to keep the tiresome
+thing in order--you mark my words, little mother, if it doesn't run off
+in some dreadful way directly it gets the chance--and then you'll be
+grieved--and I shall be sorry--and some one or other will be _in a
+rage_!"
+
+Mrs. Erldon drew in her lips. It was hard to keep from laughing at the
+comical look on the little girl's face, and certainly what she said was
+true. Some one was very often in a rage with Hepsie's tongue. It was a
+most outspoken and unruly member, and yet belonged to the best-hearted
+child in the whole of Sunnycoombe, and the favourite, too, in spite of
+her temper, which was so quickly over, and her repentance always so
+sincere and sweet.
+
+She was looking up into Mrs. Erldon's face now with great honest blue
+eyes in which a faint shadow could be seen.
+
+"I met my grandfather this morning," she said in a quick, rather nervous
+voice, "and I told him he was a wicked old man!"
+
+Her mother turned so white that Hepsie thought she was going to faint,
+and hung on to her arm in terror and remorse.
+
+"Don't look like that!" she burst forth desperately. "I know I ought to
+be shaken, and ought to be ashamed of myself--but it's no use--I'm not
+either one or the other, only I wish I hadn't done it now, because I've
+vexed you on Christmas morning!"
+
+Mrs. Erldon walked along, looking straight ahead.
+
+
+[Illustration: "DO FORGIVE ME, MOTHER DARLING!"]
+
+"I'd rather you did shake me," said Hepsie, in a quivering tone, "only
+you couldn't do such a thing, I know. You're too kind--and I'm always
+saying something I shouldn't. Do forgive me, mother darling! You can't
+think what a relief it was to me to speak like that to my grandfather,
+who thinks he's all the world, and something more, just because he's the
+Lord of the Manor and got a hateful heap of money, and it'll do him good
+(when he's got over his rage) to feel that there's his own little
+granddaughter who isn't afraid of him and tells him the truth----"
+
+"Hepsie!"
+
+Hepsie paused, and stared. Her gentle mother was gazing so strangely and
+sternly at her.
+
+"You are speaking of my father, Hepsie," she said quietly, but in a
+voice new to her child, though it was still gentle and low, "and in
+treating him with disrespect you have hurt me deeply."
+
+"Oh, but mother--darling, darling mother," cried the child, with tears
+springing to her beautiful eyes, "I wouldn't hurt you for a million
+wicked old grandfathers! I'd rather let him do anything he liked that
+was bad to me, but what I can't stand is his making you sad and unhappy,
+and making poor daddy go right away again to that far-away place in
+South Africa, which he never need have done if it hadn't been for being
+poor, though he must be finding money now, or he couldn't send you those
+lovely furs, and----"
+
+"Oh, Hepsie, Hepsie, that little tongue, how it gallops along! Be quiet
+at once, and listen to me! There, dear, I can't bear to see tears in
+your eyes on Christmas Day, and when you and I are just the two together
+on this day--your father so many, many miles distant from us, and
+poor grandfather nursing his anger all alone in the big old house."
+
+Her tone was full of a deep sorrow, and for once, young as she was,
+Hepsie understood that here was an emotion upon which she must not
+remark, though she muttered in her own heart:
+
+"All through his own wicked old temper."
+
+Mrs. Erldon took Hepsie's hand in her own as they walked towards the
+little home at the end of the long country lane.
+
+[Sidenote: Mrs. Erldon Explains]
+
+"I will not scold you, my darling," she said; "but in future never
+forget that God Himself commands that we shall honour our parents, and
+even if they grieve their children, Hepsie, that does not do away with
+children's duty, and a parent is a parent as long as life lasts--to be
+honoured and--loved! You are twelve years old, dear, and big enough now
+to understand how sad I am that my dear old father will not forgive me
+for marrying your father, and I think I had better explain things a
+little to you, Hepsie. There was some one--a rich cousin--whom my father
+had always hoped and wished that I should marry as soon as I was old
+enough; but when I was twenty-one, and was travelling with grandfather,
+you know, that is my own father--we made the acquaintance of a gentleman
+in South Africa--Alfred Erldon--who was of English parentage, but had
+lived out there all his life. Well, Hepsie, I need only say that this
+gentleman and I decided to marry against grandfather's desire. We were
+married in Johannesburg, to his great displeasure, so he refused to have
+anything to do with us, and returned to England, declaring he would
+never speak to me again.
+
+"I never thought that he really meant such a thing, he had always loved
+me so dearly, and I loved him so much. I wrote again and again, but
+there was no answer to any of my letters. Then, my darling, you were
+born, and soon after, the great South African War broke out, and your
+dear father made me leave Johannesburg and bring you to England. Of
+course, I came to the old home--Sunnycoombe--but only to find I was
+still unforgiven, for the letter I sent to say I was in the village was
+not answered either, humbly as I begged my father to see me. All the
+same, Hepsie, I have remained here at your father's wish, for he lost
+money, and had to 'trek north,' as they say, to a wild part of Rhodesia,
+where white women could not go."
+
+Mrs. Erldon's tears were nearly falling as she added: "Things have gone
+badly with him, and only once has he been able to come to England to
+spend a few months with us, as you remember, five years ago, but soon,
+now you are older, I shall go and face the life, however rough it may
+be. Now, no more talk, for here we are, darling, and, please God, this
+may be the last Christmas that we spend without daddy, in England or
+Africa, as it may be."
+
+"And I won't grieve you again to-day, darling little mother," whispered
+Hepsie, quite sobered at the thought of mother without either her daddy
+or Hepsie's on Christmas Day again, and no letter from Africa by the
+usual mail.
+
+[Sidenote: An Afternoon Call]
+
+It was a glorious afternoon, and when Mrs. Erldon settled down for a
+rest, Hepsie asked if she might go out for a run, to which her mother at
+once agreed. In this quiet little peaceful spot in Somersetshire there
+was no reason why a girl of Hepsie's age should not run about freely,
+and so, warmly wrapped up, the child trotted off--but any one watching
+her small determined face would have seen that this was not an ordinary
+walk upon her part.
+
+She left the old lane and turned towards a different part of
+Sunnycoombe. She approached the big Manor House through its wide gates,
+and along broad paths of well-trimmed trees. As she did so Hepsie
+breathed a little more quickly than usual, while a brilliant colour
+stole into her fair young cheeks.
+
+"When one does wrong," she murmured determinedly, "there is only one
+thing to follow--and that is to put the wrong right, if one can. I spoke
+rudely to my darling little mother's own father, and though he's a
+terrible old man, he's got to have an apology, which is a wretched thing
+to have to give; and he's got to hear that his daughter never would and
+never did teach her little girl to be rude, no, not even to a
+cantankerous old grandfather, who won't speak to a lovely sweet woman
+like my mother."
+
+She reached the porch, and pulled fiercely at the old-fashioned bell,
+then fairly jumped at the loud clanging noise that woke the silence of
+the quiet afternoon.
+
+The door opened so suddenly that Hepsie was quite confused, and for the
+moment took the stately old butler for her grandfather himself, offered
+her hand, and then turned crimson.
+
+"Good gracious me!" she said in her brisk voice. "Do you stand behind
+the door all day? You made me jump so that I don't know what I am
+saying, but--well--I must see my grandfather at once, please."
+
+Every one in the village knew all about the child and who she was, and
+the man was more than surprised at seeing her dare to come there, and he
+also felt very nervous.
+
+"You run away, miss," he said in a confidential whisper, "an' more's the
+shame I should have to say so, but, bless your heart, the master
+wouldn't see you, and it's more than I dare to tell him you're wanting."
+
+"You need not trouble," Hepsie said; "if I had not made a big resolution
+to look after my tongue, I should say more than you would enjoy
+hearing--talking to a lady (who comes to visit your master on Christmas
+Day) like you are doing to me; not that you may not mean kindly, now I
+come to think of it, but meaning goes for nothing, my good man, if you
+do a wrong thing, and you can't tell me that you are the one to decide
+whom your master will see or not." She waited to take a breath, while
+the man rubbed his white hair in great perplexity, and feeling rather
+breathless himself; but Hepsie calmly walked by him, and before he
+could recover from the shock, he saw her disappear into the dining-room!
+
+Hepsie never forgot that moment.
+
+Seated at a long table was a solitary and lonely-looking figure,
+supporting one thin old cheek on his hand as he rested his elbow on the
+table and seemed to be gazing far away into space. She did not know that
+he was rather deaf, and had not heard her enter, and she stood and
+looked at him, with her heart aching in a funny sort of way, she
+thought, for the sake of a wicked old man.
+
+She stared and stared, and the more she stared, the bigger a lump in her
+throat seemed to become. The room was so quiet and he sat so still, and
+something in his face brought that of her mother to her mind.
+
+At last she walked right up to him, and, feeling if she did not get out
+the words quickly she never would, Hepsie stretched out her hand and
+said: "When I stopped you in the lane to-day, I didn't know how much
+mother still loved you, and I forgot all about honouring parents,
+however unkind they seem, or I shouldn't have told you what I did,
+however true it was, for I hurt mother shockingly, as any one could see,
+and I've promised to look after my tongue much better, and so I just
+rushed up here to say--what I have said--and--and--please that's all,
+except----"
+
+She gulped and choked, her small quivering and scarlet face with the
+pitiful eyes gazing down into his--and the years rolled away in the old
+man's sight, and his daughter was back at his side again. What was she
+saying in that pleading voice, as she knelt and clasped his shaking
+hand?
+
+"Except--except--I'm sorry, I am! Oh--I didn't think how sad you were,
+and can't you love me just a bit?"
+
+And what were Hepsie's feelings then when the old man rose, and seizing
+her in his arms, cried brokenly:
+
+"Oh, child, if only your mother had said the same--only just once in the
+midst of my anger--but she passed her father by, she passed him by! And
+never a word in all these years of my loneliness and pain! My heart is
+breaking, for all its pride!"
+
+"She wrote again and again," declared Hepsie, and he started, and such a
+frown came then, that she was quite frightened, though she repeated,
+"Indeed she did, and she loves you still."
+
+"Then," said he, "they never reached me! Some one has come between us.
+But never mind that now. I must go to your mother. Come," he added, "I
+must fetch my girl back to her home again, until her husband claims her
+from me."
+
+[Sidenote: A Surprise]
+
+But when the two reached the little house in the lane a surprise awaited
+them. They found Mrs. Erldon in her husband's arms. He had returned
+unexpectedly, having, as a successful prospector for gold, done well
+enough to return home at once to fetch his wife and child.
+
+No words could describe the joy in his wife's heart when her father took
+their hands and asked their forgiveness for years of estrangement, and
+told the tale of the intercepted letters, which he might never have
+discovered had it not been for little Hepsie's Christmas visit of peace
+and goodwill.
+
+Hepsie is learning to control that little tongue of hers now, and she
+has, framed in her room, a verse that mother wrote for Hepsie
+especially:
+
+          Take heed of the words that hastily fly,
+          Lest sorrow should weep for them by and by,
+          And the lips that have spoken vainly yearn,
+          Sighing for words that can never return!
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A glimpse of South African travel, with some of the humours
+of the road.]
+
+Our African Driver
+
+BY
+
+J. H. SPETTIGUE
+
+
+"Here comes the wagon to be packed!" called the children, as with a
+creak and groan of wheels, and shouts from the Kafirs, it was brought
+lumbering to the door.
+
+"The vor-chiest is ready, Lang-Jan," said Mrs. Gilbert, coming to the
+door. "Everything that can, had better be put in place to-night."
+
+"Ja, Meeses," agreed Jan. "It's a long trek from this here place to the
+town in one day, and I will start early, while the stars are still out."
+Lang-Jan was our driver, so called to distinguish him from the numerous
+other Jans about the place.
+
+The distinction was appropriate, for he looked very tall and slim,
+though it might be the contrast with his wife's massive build that gave
+him a false presentment. He was more proud of her bulk than of his own
+height, and used to jeer at his Hottentot leader for the scraggy
+appearance of _his_ weaker half, possibly with the kindly intention of
+reducing the number, or severity, of the poor creature's beatings.
+
+I do not believe Jan ever beat his wife, though I think she was as lazy
+a woman as could be found. Perhaps he got most of his rations provided
+from the house, and was not dependent on her for his comfort.
+
+However, he seemed to me to have a Mark Tapley temper; the more
+unendurable the weather got, the cheerier he grew with his guttural and
+yet limpid cries to the oxen, and his brisk steps by their side.
+
+There was one thing, however, he could not see in patience--an amateur
+who had borrowed his whip with the proud intention of "helping to drive"
+letting the end of four yards of lash draggle over the dewy karoo,
+thereby making it limp and reducing its power to clack in the approved
+fashion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Sidenote: An Early Start]
+
+"We had better sleep in the wagon, then we shall not be disturbed so
+early," cried one of the children; but we older people preferred the
+idea of half a night's rest indoors to lying awake on the cartels in the
+wagon listening to the tossings and complaints of others.
+
+We had been staying by the sea, and were now to journey homewards. Long
+before daylight, the noise of the oxen and clank of trek-chain told that
+inspanning was begun, and those of us who were to form the wagon party
+sprang out of bed and made a hurried toilet, while the Kafir women
+carried off the feather-beds and blankets, to stow in their allotted
+places in the wagon.
+
+Mr. Gilbert and his wife, with the younger children, were to follow in a
+four-horse Cape-cart.
+
+"Isn't it too dark to be trekking?" he called from his window.
+
+"The roads is good down here," said Jan. "I can see enough"; and he
+hurried his leader, and got us under way without more ado.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We had the front curtain of the tent rolled up, and sat about on the
+boxes in silence for some time, listening to the plash of the sea upon
+the beach, every minute somebody giving a yawn.
+
+"I cannot think why Lang-Jan is hurrying on so," said Constance at
+last, "unless he thinks it will be a very hot day again. The oxen gave
+out as we were coming down, and we had to outspan about five miles off."
+
+"I _was_ cross," said a younger sister.
+
+"You need not tell us that. We have not forgotten," laughed another.
+
+"Well, I thought I could hear the sea, and I had been meaning to run
+down and have a bathe directly we stopped. It was enough to make one
+cross. And then that stupid old Kafir and Jan over the outspan money,
+and our none of us being able to find any change. I believe Jan was glad
+we couldn't pay."
+
+"Jan resents having to pay outspan money: he will wriggle out of it if
+he can," said Constance.
+
+We had gone the first three or four miles with plenty of noise, clack of
+whip and shout at team, but this gradually subsided, and with a warning
+to April, the leader, to have the oxen well in the middle of the road
+and to keep right on, Jan sank into such silence as was possible.
+
+Constance rose, and began to fumble for her purse.
+
+We heard a stealthy order to April to run, and the whip sounded again
+about one ox and another, while we were tipped about in all directions
+as the team suddenly put on a tremendous spurt.
+
+In the dim light we could see the outlines of a hut close by the road,
+and a Kafir sprang out of the doorway towards us shouting for his money.
+Jan took no notice, but whipped and shouted and trotted along as if his
+were the only voice upraised.
+
+"Stop, Jan, stop!" called Constance.
+
+But Jan was suddenly deaf. The other man was not, however, and he ran
+along after us, followed by a string of undressed children, shouting and
+gesticulating wildly.
+
+"Jan, I insist upon stopping," called Constance. "April, stop the oxen."
+
+In spite of all the noise Jan was making, April could not fail to hear
+the indignant cry of his young mistress, and presently the wagon was
+halted. Jan hastily popped the whip into the wagon and turned back to
+confront his enemy.
+
+"What do you mean by stopping a wagon in the road like this? Outspan
+money? We have not outspanned and are not going to on your starved old
+veldt."
+
+"Jan, Jan, you know very well we are owing him two shillings from the
+last time we passed," said Constance.
+
+The stranger Kafir tried to get to the wagon, but Jan barred the
+passage. He changed his tactics. "Come, let's fight for it," he cried,
+casting his hat and scarlet head-handkerchief into the karoo out of the
+way.
+
+This offer was declined without thanks. "I shan't fight. The money is
+mine," protested the other, encouraged by finding his demand was allowed
+by the ladies.
+
+"April, leave the oxen and come here," called Constance. "Give this
+money to him."
+
+[Sidenote: Jan's Principles]
+
+This was done at last, to Jan's grief. "Ah, Mees Constance! Why didn't
+you let me fight him? he was only a little thieving Fingo dog! I didn't
+outspan in sight of his old hut, and he must have come sneaking around
+and seen us, and never said he would have money till it was too late."
+
+"Well, Jan, and why should our oxen eat up the grass and drink out of
+the dam without our paying?" asked Constance; but Jan only muttered,
+"Thief! Dog!" and got away from the scene of his defeat with speed.
+
+"That was why we were obliged to start in the middle of the night: Jan
+wanted to slip by here before the wagon could be recognised," said
+Constance. Jan had made a stand for his principles, though his
+mistress's perverted sense of justice had prevented his being able to
+carry them out. By the time we stopped for breakfast he had quite
+recovered his spirits; and when he found he had got his party well away
+from the place without another hateful demand, he seemed to have
+forgotten his hard fate in the early morning. When we reached the town
+we lost sight of Jan and his wagon for a couple of days, and took up our
+abode at an hotel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A change had taken place in our party when we collected for the second
+and longer part of our journey. Mr. Gilbert had gone home with some of
+the younger ones the day before, while his wife had stayed in town to
+take the rest of us to a ball.
+
+We were all tired as we reached the wagon, with our minds running on the
+purchases we had made, and lingering regretfully on some we had not.
+
+Lang-Jan and April hurried off to fetch the oxen as soon as we appeared;
+and Mrs. Gilbert began to go through the stores.
+
+"Those two Kafirs have eaten up our butter!" she exclaimed indignantly.
+"I saw what was left when you came, and thought it might not be quite
+enough. It is lucky I did, and have bought some more, or we should have
+had none at all. I cannot let such a thing as their taking our
+provisions pass without notice.--Jan," she said, when he returned, "you
+have taken my butter."
+
+"Oh, Meeses!" exclaimed Jan, as if such a thing was quite out of the
+question, "not me. It must ha' bin April."
+
+"No, Meeses--not me, Jan," said April.
+
+"It was both of you, I have no doubt," said Mrs. Gilbert severely.
+
+"Oh, Meeses, April, April!" cried Jan, shaking his head.
+
+"No, it was Jan," protested the leader, again.
+
+Jan burst into a roar of laughter, like a naughty child owning up. "Oh!
+ja, Meeses! It was me. I looked at that tin of butter and then I said to
+April, 'I must have some of that lovely butter, whatever comes of it,'
+and then between us, it's all gone."
+
+It seemed impossible to deal with the offence gravely after that. "I
+shall know I must not leave any in the wagon another time," said the
+mistress; and we scrambled into our places to be out of the way while
+the work of inspanning went on.
+
+[Sidenote: A Fiery Day]
+
+The morning turned into a fiery day. The air shimmered blindingly above
+the veldt, and the white road, inches deep in dust, trailed ahead like
+an endless serpent. We panted and gasped under the shelter of the tent;
+April abandoned his post and climbed up in the back compartment of the
+wagon, but Jan grew more and more lively.
+
+He tightened his waist-belt and ran by the side of his team, encouraging
+them by voice and example.
+
+He wore an old soft felt hat, with a perfectly abject brim, above his
+scarlet handkerchief, and every quarter of a mile he would take it off
+and put the ostrich feather that adorned one side straight up, and
+attempt to pinch the limp brim into shape.
+
+In spite of his cheerful snatches of song, and his encouraging cries,
+the poor beasts showed more and more signs of distress, till at last Jan
+turned to Mrs. Gilbert and said, "The poor oxen is just done up. We must
+outspan till it gets cooler."
+
+"What, outspan in this pitiless place, with not a house, or a tree, or
+water to be got at!" cried one of the girls.
+
+"There is a water-hole down there," said Jan, pointing to a dip in the
+ground not far off.
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Gilbert, "I have been down there on horseback."
+
+The wagon was drawn off the road, and the weary oxen let loose, while we
+stretched ourselves on the cartels, but found the heat too great to let
+us recover any of our lost sleep.
+
+After a time some of us, thinking any change must be for the better,
+dragged ourselves out into the glare, and went to look at the pool of
+water. But though a few prickly pears and mimosa bushes grew around, it
+was not an inviting spot to rest in, and we laboured back across the
+scorching ground to the wagon, our only benefit being more thankfulness
+for its shelter.
+
+April had gone off to see that the oxen did not wander too far. Jan
+lighted a fire, made coffee for us, and broiled some meat and green
+mealie cobs.
+
+We felt better after our meal, though we had not been hungry for it.
+Then, to my surprise, Jan settled down to enjoy his share, as close to
+the fire as he could. I do not know if the burning scrub made a little
+motion in the air, or if Jan, by roasting one half of his body, felt the
+other cooler by contrast.
+
+Presently I saw, coming slowly across the veldt, a white-haired Kafir,
+carrying a weakly lamb in his arms. He made straight for Jan and sat
+down beside him.
+
+Constance, who was looking out too, roused herself and gave a little
+laugh. "Caught," she said, and I knew what she meant.
+
+At first the palaver seemed amiable enough, and we saw Jan even go the
+length of making a present of grilled mutton--chiefly bone, but not all.
+
+"An attempt at bribery," murmured Constance.
+
+In about half an hour we heard the inevitable demand. One might have
+thought Jan had never heard of outspan money, instead of its being a
+familiar and heating subject with him. When at last the claim was made
+clear to him, he asked the name of the Baas, and expressed the greatest
+surprise that any man could be so mean as to ask for money, just because
+poor souls had to wait by the road till it got cool, when it was too hot
+even for the oxen to eat anything.
+
+The explanation that the place was such a convenient distance from town,
+that if nothing was charged the Baas would have nothing left for his own
+flocks and herds, was badly received, as was also the reminder that if
+it was too hot for the oxen to eat much, they would drink all the same.
+The two argued for an hour, Jan emphatic and expostulating, the old
+Kafir calm, feeling both right and law were on his side.
+
+[Sidenote: "We shan't Pay"]
+
+At length, Jan surprised us by announcing, "We shan't pay. Your Baas
+won't expect money from me anyhow, if he does from other people."
+
+"Why not?" exclaimed the other in surprise, for Jan spoke with
+conviction.
+
+"My Baas' wife is cousin to your Baas' wife, so of course we're free on
+his veldt."
+
+We laughed, but the collector remarked that he would go and inquire. So
+he marched up to the wagon, followed closely by Lang-Jan, in fear of
+treachery, and asked Mrs. Gilbert if it was true, and being informed
+that the ladies were related, he retired at once, and Jan triumphantly
+accompanied him back to the fire.
+
+I thought Jan would be happy now the wicked had ceased from troubling,
+but the storm had its after-roll. He now expressed indignation that two
+shillings had been demanded. If such an iniquitous claim was made at
+all, one shilling was all that should be asked for.
+
+They harried this point till the stranger asked Jan what odds it was to
+him--he did not pay the money.
+
+"Don't I pay the money?" cried Jan. "Isn't it taken out of my very
+hand?"
+
+"Oh, ja! But it comes out of the Baas' pocket."
+
+"It comes out of my very hand," reiterated Jan, springing up; and
+fetching his whip, he gave three tremendous clacks with it, the signal
+to April, that could be heard a mile away in the still air, to bring
+back the oxen; and the baffled enemy picked up his lamb and retired from
+action.
+
+Jan was jubilant, and cheerfully agreed to Mrs. Gilbert's suggestions as
+to the best camping-place for the night.
+
+But I think his triumph was demoralising for him. As evening settled
+down and we were getting towards our resting-place, we passed by a rare
+thing--a long wooden fence; and we soon saw that Jan and April were
+freely helping themselves to the dry wood, and stowing it at the sides
+of the wagon to save themselves the trouble of collecting any later.
+
+"Jan," called his mistress, "you must not steal that wood. The man it
+belongs to told the Baas he lost so much that he should put somebody to
+watch, and have any one who was caught taken before Mr. Huntly."
+
+"April," shouted Jan, laughing, "look out for old Huntly. The Meeses
+says we must stop it."
+
+Later, when we had outspanned for the night, and they had broiled our
+sausages, and made the coffee with chuckling anticipation of remainders,
+they made such a fire as scared Mrs. Gilbert, lest they should set the
+dry karoo around alight.
+
+"Here, April, we must beat it down a bit. The Meeses is feared we shall
+set the moon afire," laughed Jan, laying about him with a will, as the
+flames leaped heavenward.
+
+The next morning he had to cross a river, and pay toll at the bridge.
+Why Lang-Jan never objected to that, I do not know, but he came quite
+meekly for the money. His mistress had not the exact sum, and Jan was
+some time inside the toll-house, which was also a store.
+
+On emerging, he shouted and whipped up his oxen, and off we lumbered.
+
+When we came to a hill, and our pace was sufficiently slackened for
+speech, Mrs. Gilbert called to him, "Jan, where is my change?"
+
+"Oh, Meeses!" exclaimed Jan, quite unabashed; "I took the change in
+tobacco!"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Many girls long for an opportunity to "do something." That
+was Claudia's way. And, after all, there _was_ an opportunity. Where?]
+
+Claudia's Place
+
+BY
+
+A. R. BUCKLAND
+
+
+"What I feel," said Claudia Haberton, sitting up with a movement of
+indignation, "is the miserable lack of purpose in one's life."
+
+"Nothing to do?" said Mary Windsor.
+
+"To do! Yes, of a kind; common, insignificant work about which it is
+impossible to feel any enthusiasm."
+
+"'The trivial round'?"
+
+"Trivial enough. A thousand could do it as well or better than I can. I
+want more--to feel that I am in my place, and doing the very thing for
+which I am fitted."
+
+"Sure your liver is all right?"
+
+"There you go; just like the others. One can't express a wish to be of
+more use in the world without people muttering about discontent, and
+telling you you are out of sorts."
+
+"Well, I had better go before I say worse." And Mary went.
+
+Perhaps it was as well; for Claudia's aspirations were so often
+expressed in terms like these that she began to bore her friends. One,
+in a moment of exasperation, had advised her to go out as a nursery
+governess. "You would," she said, "have a wonderful opportunity of
+showing what is in you, and if you really succeed, you might make at
+least one mother happy." But Claudia put the idea aside with scorn.
+
+Another said it all came of being surrounded with comfort, and that if
+Claudia had been poorer, she would have been troubled with no such
+yearnings; the actual anxieties of life would have filled the vacuum.
+That, too, brought a cloud over their friendship. And the problem
+remained unsolved.
+
+Mr. Haberton, immersed in affairs, had little time to consider his
+daughter's whims. Mrs. Haberton, long an invalid, was too much occupied
+in battling with her own ailments, and bearing the pain which was her
+daily lot, to feel acute sympathy with Claudia's woes.
+
+"My dear," she said one day, when her daughter had been more than
+commonly eloquent upon the want of purpose in her life, "why don't you
+think of some occupation?"
+
+"But what occupation?" said Claudia. "Here I am at home, with everything
+around me, and no wants to supply----"
+
+"That is something," put in Mrs. Haberton.
+
+"Oh, yes, people always tell you that; but after all, wouldn't it be
+better to have life to face, and to----"
+
+"Poor dear!" said Mrs. Haberton, stroking her daughter's cheek with a
+thin hand.
+
+"Please don't, mamma," said Claudia; "you know how I dislike being
+petted like a child."
+
+"My dear," said Mrs. Haberton, "I feel my pain again; do give me my
+medicine."
+
+She had asked for it a quarter of an hour before, but Claudia had
+forgotten so trivial a matter in the statement of her own woes. Now she
+looked keenly at her mother to see if this request was but an attempt to
+create a diversion. But the drawn look was sufficient. She hastily
+measured out the medicine, and as hastily left the room saying, "I
+will send Pinsett to you at once."
+
+Pinsett was Mrs. Haberton's maid, who was speedily upon the spot to deal
+with the invalid.
+
+But Claudia had withdrawn to her own room, where she was soon deep in a
+pamphlet upon the social position of Woman, her true Rights in the
+World, and the noble opportunities for Serving Mankind outside the home.
+
+[Sidenote: Wanted--a Career]
+
+"Ah," said Claudia to herself, "if I could only find some occupation
+which would give a purpose to existence--something which would make me
+really useful!"
+
+After all, was there any reason why she should not? There was Eroica
+Baldwin, who had become a hospital nurse, and wore the neatest possible
+costume with quite inimitable grace. It might be worth while asking her
+a few questions. It was true she had never much cared for Eroica; she
+was so tall and strong, so absurdly healthy, and so intolerant of one's
+aspirations. Still, her experience might be of use.
+
+There was Babette Irving--a foolish name, but it was her parents' fault;
+they had apparently thought she would always remain an infant in arms.
+Her father had married again, and Babette was keeping house with another
+woman of talent.
+
+[Illustration: HER VERY YOUTH PLEADED FOR HER.]
+
+Babette had taken to the pen. Her very youth at first pleaded for her
+with editors, and she got some work. Then more came; but never quite
+enough. Now she wrote stories for children and for the "young person,"
+conducted a "Children's Column" in a weekly paper, supplied "Answers to
+Correspondents" upon a startling variety of absurd questions, and just
+contrived to live thereby.
+
+Babette's friend had been reared in the lap of luxury until a woeful
+year in the City made her father a bankrupt, and sent her to earn her
+living as a teacher of singing. They ought to have some advice to give.
+
+Then there was Sarah Griffin--"plain Sarah," as some of the unkind had
+chosen to call her at school. She was one of nine girls, and when her
+father died suddenly, and was found to have made but poor provision for
+his family, she had been thankful to find a place in a shop where an
+association of ladies endeavoured to get a sale for the work of
+"distressed gentlewomen."
+
+She also ought to know something of the world. Perhaps, she, too, could
+offer some suggestion as to how the life of a poor aimless thing like
+Claudia Haberton might be animated by a purpose.
+
+But they all lived in London, the very place, as Claudia felt, where
+women of spirit and of "views" should be. If she could but have a few
+hours of chat with each! And, after all, no doubt, this could be
+arranged. It was but a little time since Aunt Jane and Aunt Ruth had
+asked when she was going to cheer them with another visit. Might not
+their invitation give her just the opportunity she sought?
+
+Claudia reflected. She had not in the past cared much for her aunts'
+household. The elderly maiden ladies were "the dearest creatures," she
+told herself; but they were not interesting. Aunt Jane was always
+engaged in knitting with red wool, any fragments of attention which
+could be given from that task being devoted to Molossus, the toy
+terrier, who almost dwelt in her lap. Aunt Ruth was equally devoted in
+the matter of embroidery, and in the watchful eye she kept upon the
+movements of Scipio, a Persian cat of lofty lineage and austere mien.
+
+Their other interests were few, and were mainly centred upon their
+pensioners amongst the poor. Their friends were of their own generation.
+Thus in the past Claudia had not felt any eager yearning for the house
+in St. John's Wood, where the sisters dwelt at peace. But it was
+otherwise now, because Claudia had new designs upon London.
+
+She confided to her mother her readiness to accept the recent
+invitation.
+
+"Go, my dear, by all means," said the invalid; "I am sure you must want
+a change, especially after so many weeks of looking after me."
+
+"Pinsett," said Claudia, salving her own conscience, "is so very careful
+and efficient."
+
+"And so good," added Mrs. Haberton; "you may be sure I shall be safe in
+her hands."
+
+For the moment Claudia was sensible of a little pang. Ought she to be so
+readily dispensed with? Were her services a quantity which could be
+neglected?
+
+But, after all, this was nothing. She did not neglect her mother; that
+was out of the question.
+
+[Sidenote: Up to Town]
+
+So it was agreed that Claudia should go. Aunt Jane wrote a letter
+expressing her joy at the prospect, and Aunt Ruth added a postscript
+which was as long as the letter, confirming all that her sister had
+said.
+
+So Claudia went up to town, and was received with open arms by her
+aunts.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The placid household at St. John's Wood was all the brighter for
+Claudia's presence; but she could not suffer herself to remain for more
+than a day or two in the light of an ordinary visitor.
+
+"I came this time, you know," she early explained to Aunt Jane, "on a
+voyage of exploration."
+
+"Of what, my dear?" said Aunt Jane, to whom great London was still a
+fearsome place, full of grievous peril.
+
+"Of exploration, you know. I am going to look up a few old friends, and
+see how they live. They are working women, who----"
+
+"But," said Aunt Jane, "do you think you ought to go amongst the poor
+alone?"
+
+"Oh, they aren't poor in that sense, auntie; they are just single women,
+old acquaintances of mine--schoolfellows indeed--who have to work for
+their living. I want to see them again, and find out how they get on,
+whether they have found their place in life, and are happy."
+
+Aunt Jane was not wholly satisfied; but Claudia was not in her teens,
+nor was she a stranger to London. So the scheme was passed, and all the
+more readily because Claudia explained that she did not mean to make her
+calls at random.
+
+Her first voyage was to the flat in which Babette Irving and her friend
+lived. It was in Bloomsbury, and not in a pile of new buildings. In
+old-fashioned phraseology, Miss Irving and her friend would have been
+said to have taken "unfurnished apartments," into which they had moved
+their own possessions. It was a dull house in a dull side street.
+
+Babette said that Lord Macaulay in his younger days was a familiar
+figure in their region, since Zachary Macaulay had lived in a house hard
+by. That was interesting, but did not compensate for the dinginess of
+the surroundings.
+
+Babette herself looked older.
+
+"Worry, my dear, worry," was the only explanation she offered of the
+fact. It seemed ample.
+
+Her room was not decked out with all the prettiness Claudia, with a
+remembrance of other days, had looked for. Babette seemed to make the
+floor her waste-paper basket; and there was a shocking contempt for
+appearance in the way books and papers littered chairs and tables. Nor
+did Babette talk with enthusiasm of her work.
+
+"Enjoy it?" she said, in answer to a question. "I sometimes wish I might
+never see pen, ink, and paper again. That is why I am overdone. But I am
+ashamed to say it; for I magnify my office as a working woman, and am
+thankful to be independent."
+
+"But I thought literary people had such a pleasure in their gift," said
+Claudia.
+
+"Very likely--those eminent persons who tell the interviewers they never
+write more than five hundred words a day. But I am only a hewer of wood
+and a drawer of water, so to speak."
+
+"But the thought of being useful!"
+
+"Yes, and the thought----but here is Susie."
+
+Susie was the friend who taught singing. Claudia thought she had never
+seen a woman look more exhausted; but Claudia knew so little of life.
+
+"You have had a long day, my dear," said Babette, as Susie threw herself
+into a chair; "it is your journey to the poles, isn't it?"
+
+"To the poles?" said Claudia.
+
+"Yes; this is the day she has to be at a Hampstead school from 9.30 till
+12.30, and at a Balham school from 2.30 till 4. It's rather a drive to
+do it, since they are as far as the poles asunder."
+
+"Still," said Claudia, "railway travelling must rest you."
+
+"Not very much," said Susie, "when you travel third class and the trains
+are crowded."
+
+"But it must be so nice to feel that you are really filling a useful
+position in the world."
+
+"I don't know that I am," said Susie, rather wearily. "A good many of my
+pupils have no ear, and had far better be employed at something else."
+
+"But your art!"
+
+"I am afraid few of them think much about that, and what I have to do is
+to see that the parents are well enough pleased to keep their girls on
+at singing. I do my best for them; but one gets tired."
+
+[Sidenote: Another Surprise]
+
+Claudia did not reply. This seemed a sadly mercenary view of work, and a
+little shocked her. But then Claudia had not to earn her own living.
+
+Claudia's inquiries of Sarah Griffin were scarcely more cheerful. Sarah
+was at the shop from 8.30 until 7, and was unable, therefore, to see her
+friend during the day. Aunt Jane and Aunt Ruth insisted that Sarah
+should spend the evening at St. John's Wood, and promised that she
+should leave early in the morning.
+
+She came. Again Claudia marvelled at the change in her friend. Already
+she seemed ten years older than her age; her clothes, if neat, cried
+aloud of a narrow purse. She had lost a good deal of the brightness
+which once marked her, and had gathered instead a patient, worn look
+which had a pathos of its own.
+
+Sarah did not announce her poverty, but under the sympathetic hands of
+Aunt Ruth and Aunt Jane she in time poured out the history of her daily
+life.
+
+She was thankful to be in work, even though it was poorly paid. When
+first in search of occupation, she had spent three weary weeks in going
+from one house of business to another. In some she was treated
+courteously, in a few kindly, in many coarsely, in some insultingly. But
+that was nothing; Sarah knew of girls, far more tenderly reared than she
+had been, whose experiences had been even sadder.
+
+But Claudia hoped that now Sarah really was at work she was comfortable.
+
+Sarah smiled a little wintry smile. Yes, she was comfortable, and very
+thankful to be at work.
+
+Aunt Jane with many apologies wanted more detail.
+
+Then it appeared that Sarah was living on 15s. a week. She lived at a
+home for young women in business; she fed chiefly on bread and butter.
+Her clothes depended upon occasional gifts from friends.
+
+Claudia began to condemn the world for its hardness.
+
+"But I am not clever," said Sarah; "I can do nothing in particular, and
+there are so many of us wanting work."
+
+"And do all these people really need it?"
+
+"Yes; and we all think it hard when girls come and, for the mere
+pleasure of doing something, take such work at a lower wage than those
+can take who must live."
+
+"But look at me," said Claudia; "I don't want the money, but I want the
+occupation; I want to feel I have some definite duties, and some place
+of my own in the world."
+
+Sarah looked a little puzzled. Then she said, "Perhaps Mrs. Warwick
+could help you."
+
+"Who is Mrs. Warwick?"
+
+"Mrs. Warwick is the presiding genius of a ladies' club to which some of
+my friends go. I daresay one of them will be very glad to take us
+there."
+
+So they agreed to go. Claudia felt, it must be owned, a little
+disappointed at what she had heard from her friends, but was inclined to
+believe that between the old life at home and the drudgery for the bare
+means of existence there still lay many things which she could do. She
+revolved the subject in the course of a morning walk on the day they
+were to visit the club, and returned to the shelter of her aunts' home
+with something of her old confidence restored.
+
+Despite their goodness--Claudia could not question that--how poor, she
+thought, looked their simple ways! Aunt Jane sat, as aforetime, at one
+side of the fireplace, Aunt Ruth at the other. Aunt Jane was knitting
+with red wool, as she had always knitted since Claudia had known her.
+Aunt Ruth, with an equal devotion to habit, was working her way through
+a piece of embroidery. Molossus, the toy terrier, was asleep in Aunt
+Jane's lap; Scipio reposed luxuriously at Aunt Ruth's feet.
+
+[Sidenote: Mild Excitement]
+
+It was a peaceful scene; yet it had its mild excitements. The two aunts
+began at once to explain.
+
+"We are so glad you are come in," said Aunt Jane.
+
+"Because old Rooker has been," said Aunt Ruth.
+
+"And with such good news! He has heard from his boy----"
+
+"His boy, you know, who ran away," continued Aunt Ruth.
+
+"He is coming home in a month or two, just to see his father, and is
+then going back again----"
+
+"Back again to America, you know----"
+
+"Where he is doing well----"
+
+"And he sends his father five pounds----"
+
+"And now the old man says he will not need our half-a-crown a week any
+longer----"
+
+"So we can give it to old Mrs. Wimple, his neighbour----"
+
+"A great sufferer, you know, and oh, so patient."
+
+"Really!" said Claudia, a little confused by this antiphonal kind of
+narrative.
+
+"Yes," continued Aunt Jane, "and I see a letter has come in for
+you--from home, I think. So this has been quite an eventful morning."
+
+Claudia took the letter and went up to her own room, reflecting a little
+ungratefully upon the contentment which reigned below.
+
+She opened her letter. It was, she saw, from her mother, written,
+apparently, at two or three sittings, for the last sheet contained a
+most voluminous postscript. She read the opening page of salutation, and
+then laid it down to prepare for luncheon. Musing as she went about her
+room, time slipped away, and the gong was rumbling out its call before
+she was quite ready to go down.
+
+She hurried away, and the letter was left unfinished. It caught her eye
+in the afternoon; but again Claudia was hurried, and resolved that it
+could very well wait until she returned at night.
+
+The club was amusing. Mrs. Warwick, its leading spirit, pleasantly
+mingled a certain motherly sympathy with an unconventional habit of
+manner and speech. There was an address or lecture during the evening by
+a middle-aged woman of great fluency, who rather astounded Claudia by
+the freest possible assumption, and by the most sweeping criticism of
+the established order of things as it affected women. The general
+conversation of the members seemed, however, no less frivolous, though
+much less restrained, than she had heard in drawing-rooms at home.
+
+She parted from Sarah Griffin at the door of the club, and drove to St.
+John's Wood in a hansom. The repose of the house had not been stirred in
+her absence. Aunt Jane, Aunt Ruth, Molossus, and Scipio, all were in
+their accustomed places.
+
+"And here is another letter for you, my dear," said Aunt Jane. "I hope
+the other brought good news?"
+
+Claudia blushed a healthy, honest, old-fashioned blush. She had
+forgotten that letter. Its opening page or so had alone been glanced
+at.
+
+Aunt Jane looked astonished at the confession, but with her placid
+good-nature added: "Of course, my dear, it was the little excitement of
+this evening."
+
+"So natural to young heads," said Aunt Ruth, with a shake of her curls.
+
+But Claudia was ashamed of herself, and ran upstairs for the first
+letter.
+
+[Sidenote: Startling News]
+
+A hasty glance showed her that, whilst it began in ordinary gossip, the
+long postscript dealt with a more serious subject. Mr. Haberton was ill;
+he had driven home late at night from a distance, and had taken a chill.
+Mrs. Haberton hoped it would pass off; Claudia was not to feel alarmed;
+Pinsett had again proved herself invaluable, and between them they could
+nurse the patient comfortably.
+
+Claudia hastened to the second letter. Her fears were justified. Her
+father was worse; pneumonia had set in; the doctor was anxious; they
+were trying to secure a trained nurse; perhaps Claudia would like to
+return as soon as she got the letter.
+
+"When did this come?" asked Claudia eagerly.
+
+"A very few moments after you left," said Aunt Jane. "Of course, if you
+had been here, you might just have caught the eight o'clock train--very
+late, my dear, for you to go by, but with your father so ill----" And
+Aunt Jane wiped a tear away.
+
+Claudia also wept.
+
+"Can nothing be done to-night?" she presently cried. "_Must_ I wait till
+to-morrow? He may be----" But she did not like to finish the sentence.
+
+Aunt Ruth had risen to the occasion; she was already adjusting her
+spectacles with trembling hands in order to explore the _A B C
+Timetable_. A very brief examination of the book showed that Claudia
+could not get home that night. They could only wait until morning.
+
+Claudia spent a sleepless night. She had come up to London to find a
+mission in life. The first great sorrow had fallen upon her home in her
+absence, and by an inexcusable preoccupation she had perhaps made it
+impossible to reach home before her father's death.
+
+She knew that pneumonia often claimed its victims swiftly; she might
+reach home too late.
+
+Her father had been good to her in his own rather stern way. He was not
+a small, weak, or peevish character. To have helped him in sickness
+would have seemed a pleasant duty even to Claudia, who had contrived to
+overlook her mother's frail health. And others were serving him--that
+weak mother; Pinsett, too; and perhaps a hired nurse. It was unbearable.
+
+"My dear," said Aunt Jane, as Claudia wept aloud, "we are in our
+heavenly Father's hands; let us ask Him to keep your dear father at
+least until you see him."
+
+So those two old maids with difficulty adjusted their stiff knees to
+kneeling, and, as Aunt Jane lifted her quavering voice in a few
+sentences of simple prayer, she laid a trembling hand protectingly on
+Claudia.
+
+Would that night never go? Its hours to Claudia seemed weeks. The shock
+of an impending loss would of itself have been hard enough to bear; but
+to remember that by her own indifference to home she had perhaps missed
+seeing her father again alive--that was worse than all.
+
+And then, as she thought of the sick-room, she remembered her mother.
+How had she contrived for years not to see that in the daily care of
+that patient woman there lay the first call for a dutiful daughter?
+
+It was noble to work; and there _was_ a work for every one to do.
+
+But why had she foolishly gone afield to look for occupation and a place
+in life, when an obvious duty and a post she alone could best fill lay
+at home? If God would only give her time to amend!
+
+It was a limp, tear-stained, and humbled Claudia who reached home by the
+first train the next morning.
+
+Her father was alive--that was granted to her. Her mother had borne up
+bravely, but the struggle was obvious.
+
+A nurse was in possession of the sick-chamber, and Claudia could only
+look on where often she fain would have been the chief worker.
+
+But the room for amendment was provided. Mr. Haberton recovered very
+slowly, and was warned always to use the utmost care. Mrs. Haberton,
+when the worst of her husband's illness was over, showed signs of
+collapse herself.
+
+[Sidenote: A New Ministry]
+
+Claudia gave herself up to a new ministry. Her mother no longer called
+for Pinsett; Mr. Haberton found an admirable successor to his trained
+nurse.
+
+Claudia had found her place, and in gratitude to God resolved to give
+the fullest obedience to the ancient precept: "If any have children . . .
+let them learn first to show piety at home, and to requite their
+parents."
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Women explorers have been the helpers of men, and spurred
+them on towards their goals. Some such workers are here recalled.]
+
+Famous Women Pioneers
+
+BY
+
+FRANK ELIAS
+
+
+A great deal has been said and written about the men who, in times past,
+opened up vast tracts of the unknown, and, by so doing, prepared new
+homes for their countrymen from England. Park and Livingstone, Raleigh
+and Flinders--the names of these and many more are remembered with
+gratitude wherever the English tongue is spoken.
+
+Less often perhaps do we remember that there have been not only
+strong-willed and adventurous men but brave and enduring women who have
+gone where scarcely any white folks went before them, and who, while
+doing so, bore without complaint hardships no less severe than those
+endured by male pioneers.
+
+To the shores of Cape Cod there came, on November 11, 1620, a little
+leaky ship, torn by North Atlantic gales and with sides shattered by
+North Atlantic rollers. Standing shivering upon her decks stood groups
+of men and women, plainly not sailor-folk, worn by a long voyage, and
+waiting to step upon a shore of which they knew no more than that it was
+inhabited by unmerciful savages and overlaid by dense forests. The
+first must be conciliated, and the second, to some extent at least,
+cleared away before there could be any hope of settlement.
+
+What pictures of happy homes in the Old Country, with their green little
+gardens and honeysuckle creepers, rose up in the memory of those
+delicate women as they eyed the bleak, unfriendly shore! Yet, though the
+cold bit them and the unknown yawned before, they did not flinch, but
+waited for the solemn moment of landing.
+
+[Sidenote: The "Mayflower"]
+
+Perhaps a little of what they did that day they knew. Yet could they, we
+wonder, have realised that in quitting England with their husbands and
+fathers in order, with them, to worship God according to the manner
+bidden by their conscience, they were giving themselves a name glorious
+among women? Or that, because of them and theirs, the name of the little
+tattered, battered ship they were soon to leave, after weary months of
+danger from winds and seas, was to live as long as history. Thousands of
+great ships have gone out from England since the day on which the
+"Mayflower" sailed from Plymouth, yet which of them had a name like
+hers?
+
+Tried as the "Mayflower" women were, their trials were only beginning.
+Even while they waited for their husbands to find a place of settlement,
+one of their number, wife of William Bradford--a man later to be their
+governor--fell overboard and was drowned. When they did at last land
+they had to face, not only the terrors of a North American winter, but
+sickness brought on by the hard work and poor food following the effects
+of overcrowding on the voyage.
+
+Soon the death-rate in this small village amounted to as much as two to
+three persons a day. Wolves howled at night, Indians crept out to spy
+from behind trees, cruel winds shook their frail wooden houses and froze
+the dwellers in them, but the courage of the women pioneers of New
+England never faltered, and when, one by one, they died, worn out by
+hardship, they had done their noble part in building an altar to Him
+whom, in their own land, they had not been permitted to serve as they
+would.
+
+For many years the task of helping to found settlements was the only
+work done by women in the way of opening up new territory. In the
+seventeenth and eighteenth centuries most of our discoveries were still
+those of the mariner, who could scarcely take his wife to sea. But in
+the nineteenth came the rise of foreign missions, as well as the
+acknowledgment of the need of inland exploration, and in this work the
+explorer's wife often shared in the risks and adventures of her husband.
+
+When Robert Moffat began his missionary labours in South Africa in 1816,
+he had not only to preach the gospel to what were often bloodthirsty
+savages, but he had to plunge into the unknown. Three years later he
+married Mary Smith, who was henceforth to be his companion in all his
+journeys, and to face, with a courage not less than his own, the
+tropical heat, the poisonous insects, the savage beasts, the fierce
+natives of a territory untrod by the white man, and who had to do all
+this in a day before medicine had discovered cures for jungle-sickness
+and poisons, before invention had improved methods of travel, and before
+knowledge had been able to prepare maps or to write guides.
+
+It was the daughter of Mary Moffat who became the wife of the greatest
+of all explorers, David Livingstone, and who like her mother, was to set
+her foot where no white men or women had stood before.
+
+Their first home was at Mabotsa, about two hundred miles from what is
+now the city of Pretoria. But soon Livingstone began the series of
+journeys which was to make his name famous. With his wife he travelled
+in a roomy wagon, drawn by bullocks at a rate of about two miles an
+hour. But they often suffered intensely from the heat and the scarcity
+of water. Then the mosquitoes were always troublesome, and frequently
+even the slow progress they were making would be interrupted by the
+death of one of the bullocks, killed by the deadly tsetse. At other
+times they would halt before a dense bunch of trees, and would have to
+stop until a clearing had been cut through.
+
+Such was the life of Mrs. Livingstone during her first years in Africa.
+For a time, following this, she lived in England with her children, and
+had there to endure sufferings greater than any she had shared with her
+husband, for during most of her time at home Livingstone was cut off
+from the world in the middle of Africa. When he reached the coast once
+more she went back to him, unable to endure the separation longer.
+
+But, soon after landing, her health gave way. At the end of April her
+condition was hopeless; she lay upon "a rude bed formed of boxes, but
+covered with a soft mattress," and thus, her husband beside her, she
+died in the heart of the great continent for which she and those most
+dear to her had spent themselves.
+
+[Sidenote: Lady Baker]
+
+An even greater African explorer than Mrs. Livingstone was Lady Baker,
+wife of Sir Samuel Baker. She was a Hungarian, and married Baker in
+1860, when he had already done some colonisation work by settling a
+number of Englishmen in Ceylon. In the year following their marriage,
+the Bakers went to Egypt, determined to clear up that greatest of all
+mysteries to African explorers--the secret of the Nile sources. Arrived
+at Khartoum, they fitted out an expedition and set off up the river with
+twenty-nine camels.
+
+One day, as they pushed on slowly in that silent, burning land, they
+heard that white men were approaching; and sure enough, there soon
+appeared before them the figures of Speke and Grant, two well-known
+explorers who had gone out a year before and whom many feared to have
+been lost. These men had found the source of the Nile in the Victoria
+Nyanza. But they told the Bakers a wonderful story of how they had heard
+rumours from time to time of the existence of another lake into which
+the Nile was said to flow.
+
+The minds of Baker and his wife were fired to emulation. Parting from
+their newly-met countrymen, they pressed onwards and southwards. They
+had to go a long distance out of their way to avoid the slave-traders
+who were determined to wreck their plans if they could.
+
+"We have heard a good deal recently of lady travellers in Africa," said
+the _Times_ a long time afterwards, "but their work has been mere
+child's play compared with the trials which Lady Baker had to undergo in
+forcing her way into a region absolutely unknown and bristling with
+dangers of every kind."
+
+But after encountering many adventures, the determined traveller and his
+brave wife at last reached the top of a slope from which, on looking
+down, they saw a vast inland ocean. No eye of white man had ever beheld
+this lake before, and to Lady Baker, not less than to her husband,
+belongs the glory of the discovery of the lake which all the world knows
+to-day as the Albert Nyanza.
+
+"Thus," to quote an earlier passage in the same _Times_ article, "amid
+many hardships and at the frequent risk of death at the hands of Arab
+slavers and hostile chiefs, Baker and his wife forged one of the most
+important links in the course of one of the world's most famous rivers."
+
+After many further difficulties, the explorers found their way back to
+the coast, and thence to England. But their fame had gone before them,
+and everywhere they were welcomed. And though it was Baker who was
+awarded a gold medal by the Royal Geographical Society, all must have
+felt that the honour belonged, not less, to his courageous wife.
+
+[Sidenote: Mary Kingsley]
+
+It may be said that Lady Baker was not alone in her journeys. On the
+other hand, Mary Kingsley, another woman African traveller, led her own
+expeditions. Moreover, her travelling was often done through territory
+reeking with disease. At the age of twenty-nine she explored the Congo
+River, and visited Old Calabar, and in 1894 ascended the mountain of
+Mungo Mah Lobeh. After her return to England she lectured upon her
+adventures. One more journey, this time not of exploration, was she to
+make to the great African continent. In 1900 she volunteered as a nurse
+during the war, and went out to the Cape. Here she was employed to nurse
+sick Boer prisoners. But her work was done. Enteric fever struck her
+down and, before long, the traveller had set out upon her last journey.
+
+The names we have mentioned have been those of famous travellers--women
+whose work is part of the history of discovery. But there are hundreds
+of courageous women to-day, not perhaps engaged in exploration, but who,
+nevertheless, are living in remote stations in the heart of Africa, in
+the midst of the Australian "never-never," in the lonely islands of the
+Pacific--women whose husbands, whose fathers, whose brothers are
+carrying on the work of Empire, or the greater work of the gospel.
+
+Often one of these women is the only white person of her sex for
+hundreds of miles. Perhaps she is the first who has ever set foot in the
+region wherein she lives. Yet her courage does not fail. When, as
+sometimes she does, she writes a book describing her adventures, it is
+sure to be full of high spirits and amusing descriptions of the
+primitive methods of cooking and housekeeping to which she must submit.
+The other side of the picture, the loneliness, the intense heat or cold,
+the mosquitoes or other pests, the compulsion, through absence of
+assistance, to do what at home could be done by a servant--all this is
+absent.
+
+Women may have changed, but certainly woman in the difficult places of
+the Empire, whether she be missionary, squatter, or consul's wife, has
+lost nothing in courage, in perseverance, in cheerful or even smiling
+submission to hard conditions.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A rural story this--of adventurous youngsters and a pathetic
+figure that won their sympathy.]
+
+Poor Jane's Brother
+
+BY
+
+MARIE F. SALTON
+
+
+Ever since the twins could remember Poor Jane had lived in the village.
+In fact, she had lived there all her life, though one could not expect
+the twins to remember that, for they were very young indeed, and Poor
+Jane was quite old.
+
+Poor Jane did not dress like other folks. Her boots were so large and
+sloppy that her feet seemed to shake about in them, and she shuffled
+along the ground when she walked. These boots could never have been
+cleaned since Jane had had them, and the twins firmly believed that they
+always had been that queer dust-colour, until one day Nan told them that
+when they were quite new they were black and shiny like ordinary boots.
+
+Poor Jane always wore a brown, muddy, gingham skirt, frayed and
+tattered, and the torn pieces hung like a frill from her knees to the
+tops of her dust-coloured boots. Over her chest she wore a dark-grey
+woollen cross-over, and on her head was a dirty shawl, which hung down
+her back, and was pinned across her breast. Little straw-like wisps of
+straight brown hair stuck out from under the shawl over her forehead
+and ears. Her face was dried up and shrivelled, and her cheek-bones were
+so sharp that they tried to prick through the skin.
+
+Poor Jane did not often wash, so her wrinkles, and what Dumpty called
+her "laughing lines," were marked quite black with dirt. Her lips were
+not rosy and fresh like mummie's or Dumpty's, but they were of a
+purple-grey colour, and when she opened her mouth, instead of a row of
+pearly white teeth showing, there was only one very large yellow tooth,
+which looked as if it could not stay much longer in the gum.
+
+The twins always thought that she must live on milk, as babies do before
+they have any teeth, but to their amazement they heard that last
+Christmas, at the Old People's Tea, Poor Jane had eaten two plates of
+salt beef.
+
+"Do you think she sucked it?" Dumpty asked her brother that evening when
+nurse was safely out of the way. Humpty asked daddy the next day at
+lunch how old people managed to eat when they had only one tooth.
+
+[Sidenote: Humpty's Experiment]
+
+Daddy said they "chewed," and showed Humpty how it was done, and there
+was a scene that afternoon in the nursery at tea, when Humpty practised
+"chewing" his bread and honey. And in the end Dumpty went down alone to
+the drawing-room for games that evening, with this message from Nan:
+"Master Humphrey has behaved badly at the tea-table, and been sent to
+bed."
+
+[Illustration: BARBARA'S VISIT.]
+
+But although the children met Poor Jane every time that they went into
+the village they had never once spoken to her. That was because she was
+not one of nurse's friends, like old Mrs. Jenks, whom Barbara, the
+twins' elder sister, visited every week with flowers or fruit or other
+good things. Nan considered that Poor Jane was too dirty for one of her
+friends.
+
+Poor Jane was so interesting because she had so much to say to herself,
+and, as daddy said, "gibbered like a monkey" when she walked alone.
+
+All day long she would wander up and down the village street, and when
+the children came out of school and the boys began to tease, she would
+curl her long black-nailed fingers--which were so like birds' claws--at
+her persecutors, and would run towards them as if she meant to scratch
+out their eyes.
+
+Early last spring the twins met with their first real adventure. They
+had had lots of little adventures before, such as the time when Humpty
+fell into the pond at his cousins' and was nearly drowned, and when
+Dumpty had a tooth drawn, and because she was brave and did not make a
+fuss, daddy and mummie each presented her with a shilling, and even the
+dentist gave her a penny and a ride in his chair.
+
+But this time it was a real adventure because every one--twins
+included--was frightened.
+
+The twins had just recovered from bad colds in their heads, which they
+had passed on to all the grown-ups in the house, and a cold in the head
+makes grown-ups particularly cross, so the twins found.
+
+Mum came up to the nursery with a very hoarse voice and streaming eyes,
+but when she saw Nan she forgot about her own cold, and said that Nan
+must go to bed at once, and have something warm to drink, and put a nice
+hot-water bottle between the sheets. For a long time Nan said that
+nothing would make her go to bed, but at last mum, who is very sweet,
+and of whom Nan is really quite afraid, persuaded her to lie down, and
+herself brought up a dose of quinine.
+
+It had rained all the morning, but the sun was shining so brightly now
+that the twins stood looking longingly out of the nursery window, while
+mummie helped Nan into bed.
+
+"Can we go out, mum?" asked Humpty.
+
+"There is no one to take you out, darling," said mummie thoughtfully;
+"but it is so nice and sunny now that I think you ought to go. It is too
+wet to play in the garden, and if you go alone you must promise to
+walk along the road to the end of the village, and straight back again.
+Now, remember to walk where it is clean and dry, and keep moving, and do
+not stop to play with the puddles, and when you come in you shall have
+tea with me."
+
+"Hooray!" shouted the children; "two treats in one afternoon!"
+
+It did not take the twins long to get ready for their walk that
+afternoon. They were so excited, for they had never been out alone for a
+walk before, though, of course, they used to play by themselves in the
+garden.
+
+Each was inwardly hoping that they might meet Poor Jane, and so they
+did. As they came out of the drive gate they saw Poor Jane shuffling
+quickly up the road.
+
+"Let's walk slowly," whispered Dumpty, quivering with excitement, "and
+perhaps she will catch us up."
+
+In a few minutes the old woman had overtaken them.
+
+[Sidenote: Jane's New Gloves]
+
+All Nurse's injunctions were forgotten. The children stood still and
+stared, for Poor Jane was wearing a pair of brand new, red woollen
+gloves! Poor Jane saw them looking, and she crossed from the other side
+of the road and came near the children. Dumpty gave a little scream of
+terror, but Humpty caught her by the hand, so that she could not run
+away.
+
+"Good afternoon," he said; "what nice red gloves you have!"
+
+The old woman looked at her hands with great pride. "Beautiful red
+gloves," she said, spreading out her fingers. "I had the chilblains bad,
+so Mrs. Duke gave 'em to me. Beautiful red gloves!" She began cackling
+to herself, staring hard at the children as she did so. She had brown,
+staring eyes that looked very large and fierce in her thin face.
+
+"Where's your nuss?" she asked, beginning to walk along by the side of
+the children.
+
+"Our what?" asked Dumpty, puzzled.
+
+"She means nurse," said Humpty, with great emphasis. "Nan is ill with a
+cold in her head," he explained, "and mum has just made her go to bed
+and drink hot milk."
+
+"I often see ye passin'," said Poor Jane conversationally.
+
+"Yes," said Humpty, who was still holding his sister's hand tight, "we
+often come this way for a walk, and we always see you."
+
+"You always walk this way, don't you?" said Dumpty bravely, though she
+still trembled with fright.
+
+"Yes, I allus come along 'ere, every day, wet or fine."
+
+"Why?" asked Humpty, who had an inquiring mind.
+
+Then the old woman seized him by the arm. Humpty turned white with
+terror, but his courage did not forsake him.
+
+"Why?" he repeated boldly.
+
+The old woman pinched his arm.
+
+"Don't you know why I come here?" she asked, her voice getting shriller
+and shriller; "don't you know why I walk up and down this road every
+day, fine or wet, through snow and hail?" She lowered her voice
+mysteriously, and clutched hold of Dumpty, who could not help shrieking.
+"You're a lucky little miss; you keep your brother as long as you can.
+Ah! my poor brother, my poor brother!"
+
+"Is your brother dead?" asked Dumpty sympathetically. She was not so
+frightened now, for although the old woman still held her pretty tight
+she did not look as if she meant to hurt them.
+
+"No, he is alive! He is alive! They tell me he is dead, but I know
+better. A circus came to Woodstead" (the little shopping-town two miles
+from the village), "and he joined that--he had to go; the circus
+people--they was gipsies most of 'em--forced him--and he 'ad to go; 'e
+is a clown now."
+
+"A clown!" cried the twins.
+
+"Yus, and they won't let 'im come back to his poor old Jane. They're a
+keepin' us apart, they're a keepin' us apart!" And her voice died away
+in a wail. She stopped in the middle of the road.
+
+"Poor Jane!" whispered Dumpty; "poor Jane! I am so sorry"; but Jane took
+no more notice of them, but went on murmuring to herself, "Keepin' us
+apart--keepin' us apart."
+
+"Come on, Dump," said Humpty at last; "it's no good staying, she doesn't
+seem to want us." Dumpty joined him, and there were tears in her eyes.
+What Poor Jane had said was so very, very sad. The twins had so much to
+think about now that they talked very little during their walk, but when
+they did, it was all about Poor Jane and her brother, who was the clown
+in a circus.
+
+When they got home the children had tea and games downstairs, and
+altogether it was great fun, but they did not mention their meeting with
+Poor Jane. That was their secret.
+
+For days afterwards they talked it over and wondered whether Jane would
+speak to them the next time they met on the road, but when they went
+down the village again with nurse the old woman passed them by without a
+sign of recognition.
+
+Three months passed and June had come, and one day Nan and the children
+went down to the village shop to buy slate-pencils.
+
+[Sidenote: Mrs. Moses' Question]
+
+"Are you taking the children to the circus?" asked Mrs. Moses, the
+shopwoman.
+
+The twins pricked up their ears.
+
+"When is it?" asked Nan.
+
+"To-morrow, at Woodstead," answered Mrs. Moses; and she showed the
+children two large bills with pictures on them, of a beautiful young
+lady with yellow hair, who was walking on a tight-rope, a dark lady
+balancing herself on a golden globe, a young man riding, bare-back, on a
+fierce white horse, and a lion jumping through flames of fire, while in
+the corner was the picture of a clown grinning through a hoop.
+
+"Oh, Nan!" said Humpty, when they were outside, "can we go?"
+
+"I shall ask mummie when we get home what she thinks about it," said
+nurse, "but you are not to be disappointed or cross if she won't let
+you."
+
+That evening when mummie came up to bid good-night to the twins in bed
+they were told that they might go. Nurse had been promised to-morrow
+off, so that she might have tea with her sister, who lived at Woodstead,
+but she had very kindly said that she would be quite willing to take the
+twins with her, and put them into seats in the circus, and then she
+would come for them at the end of the performance.
+
+The twins were delighted, and almost too excited to speak. After mummie
+had gone they lay awake thinking.
+
+"Humpty," said Dumpty presently, "what are you thinking about?"
+
+"The circus," answered Humpty promptly.
+
+"And I," said Dumpty pensively--"I have been thinking about Poor Jane."
+
+"I have been thinking about her lots too," said Humpty.
+
+"And oh, Humpty! supposing the clown should be her brother, what should
+we do?"
+
+"We should bring him back to Poor Jane of course," said Humpty.
+
+"But how shall we know whether he is her brother?"
+
+"He will look like her, of course, stupid," replied Humpty, a little
+crossly, for he was beginning to feel sleepy.
+
+[Sidenote: At the Circus]
+
+They had an early dinner next day, and then Edward brought the pony
+round to the door, and they set off for Woodstead. Nurse was looking
+very smart in a black bonnet and silk mantle, and the children felt
+almost as if she were a stranger. Soon they came to a large meadow,
+where stood a great tent with steps leading up to it, and a man stood on
+the top of the steps beating a drum and crying, "Children half-price!
+Walk up! Walk up!"
+
+There was a nice man inside, who led the children past rows of bare
+seats, raised one above the other, till he came to a part which was
+curtained off from the rest. He drew the curtain to one side to let the
+children pass in, and they saw four rows of comfortable seats with
+backs, covered with scarlet cloth.
+
+"Yes, these will do nicely," said Nan; "and now, children, you must sit
+here quietly till the circus is over, and I shall come and fetch you at
+half-past four."
+
+The children now had time to look about. A large plot of grass had been
+encircled with a low wooden fence, hung with more red cloth. Inside this
+ring some of the grass had been taken up, so that there was a narrow
+path where the horses would canter right round the ring. Quite close to
+the children was an elegant carriage--wagon-shaped--where the musicians
+sat, and made a great noise with their instruments. One of the men
+played the drum and cymbals at the same time. On their right the tent
+was open and led out on to the meadow, and this was the entrance for the
+horses and performers.
+
+After playing the same tune through seven times, the band changed its
+music and began a quick, lively air, and in came trotting, mounted on a
+black horse with a white nose, a rather elderly lady with golden hair.
+She did not sit on an ordinary saddle, but on what appeared to be an
+oval tea-tray covered with blue satin. Behind her followed a serious,
+dignified gentleman, who was busily cracking a long whip. His name, the
+twins soon learned, was Mr. Brooks, for so all the performers addressed
+him.
+
+The lady rode twice round the ring, and on dismounting kissed her hands
+to the audience in a friendly manner.
+
+"I want to introduce to you, ladies and gentlemen, my wonderful
+performing horse Diamond. Diamond, make your bow."
+
+Whereupon Diamond--with some difficulty--bent his knees, and thrust his
+head down to the ground.
+
+The twins were enchanted.
+
+But this was by no means the best of Diamond's accomplishments. By
+looking at a watch he could tell the time, and explained to the audience
+that it was now seventeen minutes past three, by pawing on a plank of
+wood with his hoof three times, and then, after a moment's pause,
+seventeen times. He could shake his head wisely to mean "yes" or "no";
+he could find the lady's pocket-handkerchief amongst the audience, and,
+finally, he refused to leave the ring without his mistress, and when she
+showed no sign of accompanying him, he trotted behind her, and pushed
+her out with his soft white nose.
+
+Next an acrobat came somersaulting in. He did all sorts of strange
+things, such as balancing himself upside down on the broad shoulders of
+Mr. Brooks, and tying himself into a kind of knot and so entangling his
+limbs that it became impossible to tell the legs from the arms.
+
+After he had gone there was a long pause, and then came tottering in,
+with slow and painful footsteps, an old, old man. He was dressed in a
+dirty black suit, and wore an old battered bowler. His clothes were
+almost in rags, and he had muffled up his face with a long black
+comforter.
+
+A strange hush came over the audience as he sat down in the ring to
+rest, only Humpty and Dumpty leaned forward eagerly to watch. "It is
+Poor Jane's brother," said Humpty very loudly.
+
+Mr. Brooks went up to the tired old man. "I am afraid you are very
+tired, my good man," he said kindly.
+
+"Very tired, very tired indeed, Mr. Brooks," sighed Poor Jane's brother.
+
+"Mr. Brooks!" cried the owner of that name, "how, sir, do you know that
+my name is Brooks?" And then a wonderful thing happened. The old man
+sprang to his feet, his rags dropped from him, he tore off the black
+comforter, and behold! he was a clown with a large red nose, who cried,
+"Here we are again!"
+
+How the children laughed and clapped, and how pleased the twins were to
+have discovered Poor Jane's brother!
+
+Oh, the things that clown did! The familiar way in which he spoke to Mr.
+Brooks! The practical jokes that he played on him! Then in trotted old
+Diamond to join in the fun, and here was a chance for the clown to take
+a lesson in riding. He mounted by climbing up the tail, and then he rode
+sitting with his back to the horse's head. He tried standing upright
+whilst Diamond was galloping, but could not keep his balance, and fell
+forward with his arms clasped tightly round the animal's neck. In the
+end Diamond, growing tired of his antics, pitched him over his head, but
+the clown did not seem to mind, for before he had reached the ground he
+turned an immense somersault--then another--and the third carried him
+right through the entrance back into the meadow where the caravans were
+standing.
+
+"Humpty," asked Dumpty, "what are we to do?"
+
+[Sidenote: To the Rescue!]
+
+"We must go at once and rescue him," answered the boy.
+
+The twins slipped from their seats, and crept to the back of the tent.
+
+"I think we can squeeze under this," said Humpty, as he began wriggling
+under the awning. He then helped Dumpty, who was rather fat, and showed
+signs of getting stuck.
+
+"How cool it is outside!" remarked Dumpty, who had found it hot and
+stifling under the tent. "I would like to know what is going on,
+wouldn't you?" she added, as a peal of merry laughter came from the
+tent.
+
+"We will go back presently," said Humpty; "but we must first find Poor
+Jane's brother."
+
+There were two or three small tents, and one large one, in which the
+horses were stabled. Dumpty longed to stop and talk to a dear little
+piebald pony, but Humpty carried her on till they came to the caravans.
+
+Four or five men were lying face downwards on the grass--worn out and
+tired. Before the steps of one caravan a group of children were playing,
+whilst one woman in a red shawl sat on the steps smoking a clay pipe,
+and holding a dirty-looking baby in her arms.
+
+The twins stole round the caravan, taking good care not to be seen.
+There was as yet no sign of the clown.
+
+At last they found a smaller caravan which stood apart from the others,
+and the door was ajar. "Perhaps he is in there," suggested Humpty. "I am
+going to see." And he ran up the steps and peeped inside.
+
+"Oh, do come, Dumpty!" he cried; "it is awfully interesting."
+
+Dumpty tumbled up the steps.
+
+"Oh, Humpty!" she said, "how lovely!"
+
+It really was a very nice caravan, and spotlessly clean. There were dear
+little red curtains in front of the window and a red mat on the floor.
+All over the wall hung baskets made in pretty green and blue straw of
+all shapes and sizes. On the chair lay a bundle of peacock's feathers.
+
+"These are like what the gipsies sell," remarked Dumpty. A gipsy's
+basket was lying on the floor, in which were tin utensils for cooking,
+and two or three saucepans. Bootlaces had been wound round the handle.
+
+The twins were fascinated, and turned everything over with great
+interest. They found a large cupboard, too, containing all sorts of
+beautiful clothes--lovely velvet dresses, and robes of gold and silver.
+
+"How dark it is getting!" said Humpty presently; "why did you shut the
+door?"
+
+"I didn't shut the door," answered Dumpty; "I spect the wind did."
+
+They took a long time in exploring the cupboard. Suddenly Humpty cried,
+"We have forgotten Poor Jane's brother!"
+
+They made a rush for the door.
+
+"Here, Humpty, will you open it? This handle is stiff."
+
+Humpty pulled and struggled with the handle until he was red in the
+face.
+
+"I can't get it open," he said at last.
+
+"Let me try again," said Dumpty, and she pushed and struggled, but to no
+purpose.
+
+For a long time she and Humpty tried alternately to open the door, but
+nothing that they could do was of any avail.
+
+[Sidenote: Locked in]
+
+"I think it is locked," said Humpty at last, sitting down despondently.
+He was panting breathlessly, and began to swing his legs.
+
+Dumpty's eyes grew wide with terror, her lips trembled.
+
+"Have they locked us in on purpose?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," said Humpty, "the circus people have locked us in, and they won't
+unlock the door until they have left Woodstead."
+
+"And then?" asked Dumpty.
+
+"Then they will keep us, and never let us come home again--like they did
+to Poor Jane's brother, and I shall be a bare-back rider, and you will
+wear the blue velvet gown, and ride in the processions on the piebald
+pony."
+
+"And we shall never see mummie or daddy again--or Nan--or Poor Jane,"
+said Dumpty, beginning to cry.
+
+"No, we shall never see them again," answered Humpty, swallowing hard to
+keep himself from crying.
+
+Dumpty was crying bitterly now, and the loud sobs shook her small body.
+Humpty looked dismally at his surroundings, and continued to swing his
+legs.
+
+"Give over!" he said to Dumpty, after one of her loudest sobs; "it will
+never do for them to see that you've been crying, or they will be just
+furious."
+
+After a time Dumpty dried her eyes, and went to the window, and drew
+back the curtains.
+
+"It's getting dark," she said.
+
+Humpty began to whistle. Suddenly he stopped.
+
+"I am getting awful hungry," he remarked.
+
+"We shan't have nuffin' to eat until the morning," said Dumpty.
+
+"Humpty," she continued, "would it be any good if we screamed and banged
+the door?"
+
+"No," said the boy; "if they heard us trying to give the alarm, they
+would be very angry, and perhaps they wouldn't give us anything to eat
+for days--not until we were nearly dead."
+
+"I think we had better go to sleep," said Dumpty, yawning, and began
+saying her prayers.
+
+In a few minutes both children were lying fast asleep on the floor of
+the caravan.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"My eye! jest look 'ere, Bill!"
+
+"Well, I'm blowed!" said Bill, gaping open-mouthed at the sight of the
+two children asleep in the caravan.
+
+"'Ow in the world did they get 'ere?" continued the woman who had first
+found them. "Wike up! wike hup!" she cried, giving them each a violent
+shaking.
+
+Humpty began to open his eyes. He stared in astonishment at the people
+round him.
+
+"Are you the circus people?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, and who are you, we're wanting to know, and 'ow did you come
+'ere?"
+
+By this time Dumpty was awake. On seeing the strange faces, she
+immediately began to cry.
+
+"Don't 'e cry, dear," said the woman; "there's no call to be afraid."
+
+But Dumpty still cried.
+
+"Why did you lock us in?" asked Humpty defiantly.
+
+"I believe they think as 'ow we locked 'em in for the purpose," laughed
+the woman, and then she explained to them what had happened, how they
+always kept this caravan locked, for they did not use it for sleeping or
+living in, but filled it with baskets and tins, which they sold as they
+travelled through the villages. She told the twins, too, that three
+policemen were out searching for them everywhere, and had come to make
+inquiries of her husband, and of the man who sold the tickets, but they
+could tell them nothing. And in their turn the twins had to explain how
+it was that they had found their way into the caravan.
+
+[Sidenote: An Early Breakfast]
+
+It was just three o'clock now, and the men were all at work, for by four
+o'clock they must be on the way to the next town, where they were
+"billed" to give a performance that very afternoon.
+
+"And now," said the woman, "you must 'ave a bite of breakfast, and then
+Bill shall tike you 'ome. What'll your ma and pa say when they see you?
+they'll be mighty pleased, I guess."
+
+The twins had never been up so early in the morning before. They felt
+ill and stiff all over from sleeping on the hard floor, and they were
+very hungry, and cold too, for the morning air seemed chill and biting.
+
+The women had made a fire of sticks, and a great black kettle was
+hanging over it. The water was boiling and bubbling.
+
+Soon the men left their work and came to join in the meal. They all sat
+round the fire on the wet grass, and shared the large, thick mugs of tea
+and sugar, and stared at the little strangers.
+
+All the children were up, too, and rubbed their eyes and tried hard not
+to look sleepy, but the little ones were cross and peevish. Each child
+had a large slice of bread, and a piece of cold pork, and even the
+little, sore-eyed baby held a crust of bread and a piece of pork in his
+hand, which he tried to stuff into his mouth.
+
+The twins, because they were the guests, were given each a hard-boiled
+egg. Dumpty was getting over her shyness now, and tried to behave as
+mummie does when she is out to tea. "Eggs are very dear now," she
+announced gravely, during a lull in the conversation; "how much do you
+pay for yours?" How the men and women laughed! It seemed as if Bill
+would never stop chuckling, and repeating to himself, "Pay for our eggs!
+That's a good un"; and every time that he said "Pay for our eggs!" he
+gave his leg a loud slap with his hand. When breakfast was over--and you
+may be sure that the twins ate a good one, although they did not much
+like the strong tea, without any milk--the woman said it was time for
+them to be starting home.
+
+"Please," begged Dumpty, summoning all her courage--"please, may the
+piebald pony take us?" and in a few minutes Bill drove it up, harnessed
+to an old rickety cart, and the two children were packed in.
+
+Just as they were starting Dumpty said, with a sigh, to the kind gipsy
+woman, "Thank you very, very much, and will you, please, tell the clown
+how sorry I am that I have not seen him to speak to?"
+
+"'Ere I am, young mon--'ere I am!"
+
+It was Bill who spoke. The twins could not believe their ears.
+
+"Are you the clown?" said Dumpty in an awestruck voice; "are you really
+and truly the clown?"
+
+Bill jerked the reins, and the piebald pony set off at a weary trot.
+"Yes, missie, I am the clown," he said.
+
+"Where's your nose?" asked Humpty suspiciously.
+
+"One's on my face--t'other's in the dressing-up box," answered the man,
+with a shout of laughter.
+
+"Then you're not Poor Jane's brother?" said Dumpty.
+
+"Don't know nuffun about Poor Jine--we've got only one Jine here, and
+that's the monkey, and she ain't my sister, leastways it's to be hoped
+as she in't."
+
+But although it was disappointing to find that the clever clown was only
+Bill all the time, the twins enjoyed their drive home, for Bill told
+them many wonderful tales of his life in the ring, and of the animals
+which he had trained.
+
+Soon they came to the village, which looked so strange and quiet by the
+early morning light, with the cottage-doors all shut, and the windows
+closed and the blinds drawn. Humpty jumped down to open the gate leading
+up the drive, and there on the doorstep were mummie and daddy, looking
+so white and ill, who had come out of the house at the sound of the
+wheels on the gravel to greet them.
+
+[Sidenote: Home Again]
+
+The twins were hurried indoors and taken up to the nursery, and Nan
+cried when she saw them and forgot to scold. From the window they
+watched mum and daddy thanking Bill, and giving him some money, and they
+waved "goodbye" to him, and he flourished his whip in return, gave
+another tug at the reins, and the old piebald pony cantered bravely down
+the drive, and they saw them no more.
+
+The twins were not allowed to see their mother, for Nan said that she
+was feeling ill with a dreadful headache, and it was all on account of
+their "goings-on"; and after Nan had stopped crying, she began to scold,
+and was very cross all day.
+
+That evening when the twins were in bed mummie came to tuck them up. But
+instead of saying "Good-night," and then going out as she generally did,
+she stayed for a long, long time and talked.
+
+She told them that it was very wrong to have disobeyed nurse, who had
+told them to stay in the seats and not to go away.
+
+"But," cried Humpty, "we had to try to rescue Poor Jane's brother!"
+
+"Poor Jane's brother!" repeated mummie, looking puzzled. And then the
+twins explained.
+
+Mummie sat silent for a long time.
+
+"Remember, children," she said at last, "never do evil that good may
+come--I can't expect you to understand that--but I can tell you a little
+story."
+
+"A story!" cried the twins. "Hooray!"
+
+"Once upon a time a town was besieged. It was night, and only the
+sentinels on the walls were left on guard, and told to give the alarm by
+clanging a large bell, should the enemy force an attack. There was one
+sentinel who had never done this work before, and he was given the least
+important tower to guard. During the night a loud bell clanged out, and
+a soldier came running along the wall to speak to the new sentinel. 'Do
+come,' he said, 'we want as many helpers as we can get at once, and
+there will be plenty of fighting.' The young sentinel longed to go with
+him, and join the fight, but he remembered his duty in time.
+
+"'I cannot leave this tower,' he said; 'I have had orders to stay and
+give the alarm should the enemy appear, and the town trusts me to do
+so.'
+
+"'I believe that you are afraid,' said the soldier as he hurried away.
+
+"And this was the hardest of all, and the sentinel longed to join in the
+fighting to show that he, too, was no coward, but could fight like a
+man.
+
+"He stood there, listening to the noise in the distance, to the shouts
+of the enemy, and the screams of those who were struck down. And as he
+looked below the walls into the valley beyond he thought that he could
+distinguish men moving, and while he watched he saw a number of soldiers
+creeping up to the walls, and one man had even placed his foot on the
+steps that led up to his tower. Quick as thought, the sentinel seized
+the rope of the large bell that hung over his head and clanged it again
+and again.
+
+"In a few minutes the troops were assembled, and, making their way down
+the steep steps, they charged at the enemy, and followed them into the
+valley.
+
+"Late on the following evening the soldiers returned, but not all, for
+many were killed--and they brought back news of a great victory. The
+enemy was routed and the town saved. So you see, children," said mother
+gravely, "how much better it is to do what is right. If that young
+sentinel had left his post, even though it were to help the men in the
+other tower, the enemy would have climbed up those steps and got into
+the town. You must try to remember this always. You should have obeyed
+nurse, and remembered that she was trusting you to do what she had said.
+It was a kind thought of yours to try to rescue Poor Jane's brother, but
+obedience to nurse should have come first."
+
+[Sidenote: Jane's Delusion]
+
+"But we forgot, mummie," said Humpty.
+
+"What would have happened if the sentinel had forgotten that he was
+trusted to do his duty, and stay in the tower?"
+
+Humpty was silent.
+
+"And now," said mummie cheerfully, "we will forget all about the
+terrible fright you have given us, and you must try to remember what I
+have said. I want to know all about Poor Jane's brother," she continued,
+smiling; "is it some one you have been imagining about?"
+
+"Oh, no!" cried the twins at once. And then they told her of the
+conversation which they had had with Poor Jane, and of what she had said
+about her brother.
+
+"But Poor Jane has no brother," said mummie; "he died long ago. Jane's
+mind has never grown up. One day, when she was a girl, her mother took
+her to a circus at Woodstead, and when they came home, after it was
+over, they were told the sad news that Jane's brother had fallen from
+the top of a wagon of hay on to his head. He died a few hours later. But
+Jane could not understand death--she only knew that Harry had gone away
+from them, and she believed that the circus people had stolen him from
+the village and made him a clown. Ever since that sad day Jane has gone
+up and down the village to look for him, hoping that he will come back."
+
+"And will Poor Jane never see him again?" asked Dumpty.
+
+"Yes," answered mummie, with her sweetest smile--"yes, darlings, one day
+she may!"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: An Englishwoman's adventure in Arkansas, issuing in a great
+surprise to all concerned.]
+
+The Sugar Creek Highwayman
+
+BY
+
+ADELA E. ORPEN
+
+
+When Mrs. Boyd returned from Arkansas, I, having myself spent a very
+uneventful summer at home, with only the slight excitement of a month at
+Margate, was most anxious to hear an account of her adventures. That she
+had had adventures out there on those wild plains of course I felt
+certain. It would be manifestly preposterous to go to Arkansas for three
+months, and come back without an adventure.
+
+So, on the first day when Mrs. Boyd was to be "at home" after her
+return, I went to see her; and I found, already assembled in her cosy
+drawing-room, several other friends, impelled there, like myself, by
+curiosity to hear what she had to say, as well as by a desire to welcome
+her back.
+
+"I was just asking Mrs. Boyd what she thought the most singular thing in
+America," said Miss Bascombe, by way of putting me _au courant_ with the
+conversation after my greeting was over with our hostess.
+
+"And I," replied Mrs. Boyd, "was just going to say I really did not know
+what was the one most curious thing in America, where most things seem
+curious, being different from here, you know. I suppose it is their
+strange whining speech which most strikes one at the outset. It is
+strong in New York, certainly, but when you get out West it is simply
+amazing. But then they thought my speech as curious as I did theirs. A
+good woman in Arkansas said I talked 'mighty crabbed like.' But a man
+who travelled in the next seat to me, across Southern Illinois, after
+talking with me for a long time, said, 'Wal, now, you dew talk purty
+tol'eble square for an Englishwoman. You h'aint said 'Hingland' nor
+'Hameriky' onst since you sot there as I knows on!'"
+
+Mrs. Boyd put on so droll a twang, and gave her words such a curious,
+downward jerk in speaking, that we all laughed, and felt we had a pretty
+fair idea of how the Illinois people talk at all events.
+
+"Everybody is very friendly," continued Mrs. Boyd, "no matter what may
+be their station in life, nor what you may suppose to be yours. I
+remember in Cincinnati, where I stopped for a couple of days, the porter
+who got out my box for me saw it had some London and Liverpool labels on
+it, whereupon he said, with a pleasant smile, 'Wal, how's Europe gettin'
+on, anyhow?' Fancy a Cannon Street porter making such a remark to a
+passenger! But it was quite simply said, without the faintest idea of
+impertinence. In fact, it is almost impossible to say that anybody is
+impertinent where you are all so absolutely on an equality."
+
+Now all this was interesting enough, no doubt, but what I wanted to hear
+about was something more startling. I could not really give up all at
+once the idea of an adventure in the West, so I said, "But didn't
+anything wonderful happen to you, Mrs. Boyd?"
+
+"No, I can't say there did," replied the lady, slightly surprised, I
+could see, by my question.
+
+Then, rallying my geography with an effort, I asked, "Weren't you
+carried off by the Indians, or swept away by a flood?"
+
+"No, I was many hundred miles away from the Indian Reservation, and did
+not see a single Red man," replied Mrs. Boyd; "and as for floods--well,
+my dear, I could tell you the ridiculous straits we were put to for want
+of water, but I can't even imagine a flood on those parched and dried-up
+plains."
+
+[Sidenote: An Adventure]
+
+"Well," said I, in an aggrieved voice, "I think you might have come back
+with at least one adventure after being away for three months."
+
+"An adventure!" exclaimed Mrs. Boyd, in astonishment, and then a flash
+of recollection passed over her countenance, and she continued, "Oh,
+yes, I did have one; I had an adventure with an highwayman."
+
+"Oh!" cried all the ladies, in a delighted chorus.
+
+"See there, now!" said Miss Bascombe, as if appropriating to herself the
+credit of the impending narrative.
+
+"I knew it!" said I, with triumph, conscious that to me was due the
+glory of unearthing the tale.
+
+"I'll tell it to you, if you like," said Mrs. Boyd.
+
+"Oh, pray do; we are dying to hear about it!" said Miss Bascombe. "A
+highwayman above all! How delicious!"
+
+"Was he handsome?" asked one of the ladies, foolishly, as if that had
+anything to say to it.
+
+"Wait," said Mrs. Boyd, who assumed a grave expression of countenance,
+which we felt to be due to the recollection of the danger she had run.
+We also looked serious, as in politeness bound, and sat in eager
+expectation of her story.
+
+"One day we were all invited to spend the whole afternoon at a
+neighbour's house. We were to go early for dinner at half-past twelve,
+stay until tea at five, and then drive home in the evening. The
+neighbour lived twelve miles away, but as there was to be a moon we
+anticipated no difficulty in driving home over the prairie. You see, as
+a rule, people are not out after dark in those wild regions; they get up
+very early, work hard all day, and are quite ready to go to bed soon
+after sunset. Anyway, there is no twilight; the sun sets, and it is dark
+almost immediately. When the day came, Emily (my sister, you know, with
+whom I was staying) wasn't able to go because the baby was not at all
+well, and she could not leave him for so long a time. So my
+brother-in-law and I set off alone, promising to come home early. I
+enjoyed the drive over the prairie very much, and we got to our
+destination about midday. Then we had dinner, a regular out-West dinner,
+all on the table together, everything very good and very plentiful. We
+dined in the kitchen, of course, and after dinner I helped Mrs. Hewstead
+to wash up the dishes, and then we went out and sat on the north side of
+the house in the shade and gossiped, while the men went and inspected
+some steam-ploughs and corn-planters, and what not. Then at five o'clock
+we had supper. Dear me! when I think of that square meal, and then look
+at this table, I certainly realise there is a world of difference
+between England and Arkansas."
+
+"Why," said Miss Bascombe, "don't they have tea in America?"
+
+"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Boyd, "we had tea and coffee, any number of
+cakes and pies, and the coloured man brought up a wheelbarrowful of
+water-melons and piled them on the floor, and we ate them all!"
+
+"Dear me," I remarked, "what a very extraordinary repast! I think you
+must have felt rather uncomfortable after such a gorge."
+
+"Oh dear, no," returned Mrs. Boyd, smiling; "one can eat simply an
+unlimited quantity of water-melons on those thirsty plains. The water is
+always sickeningly warm in the summer-time, so that any substitute for
+it is eagerly welcomed."
+
+Mrs. Boyd, lost in the recollections of the appetising water-melons, was
+clearly forgetting the great point of her story, so I ventured to
+suggest it by remarking: "And the highwayman?"
+
+"I am coming to that directly," said Mrs. Boyd.
+
+"Well, we started home just before sundown; and as it was very hot, we
+could not drive fast. Indeed, the horses were in a sheet of lather
+almost immediately, and the air seemed fairly thick with the heat-rays,
+and absolutely breathless. Just as we got to the bluff overlooking the
+Big Sugar Creek, the sun set.
+
+[Sidenote: A Dangerous District]
+
+"'I wish we were on the other side of the creek, I know,' said my
+brother-in-law.
+
+"'Why so?' said I; 'this part of the country is perfectly safe, is it
+not?'
+
+"'Yes,' he replied, 'it is pretty safe now, but there are always some
+rough customers about the bush, and there have been one or two shootings
+on the Big Sugar. Orlando Morse saw a man on horseback one night just
+after he had crossed the ford, waiting for him by the side of the road
+under the trees. But Orlando is an old frontier-man, so he is pretty
+quick with his trigger. He fired twice at the man, after challenging;
+whereupon the scoundrel vanished rapidly, and Orlando got safe home.'
+
+"I felt very uncomfortable at this, as you may imagine; still, as I knew
+my brother-in-law had a very poor opinion of the nerves of Englishwomen,
+I made an effort to say, as lightly as I could: 'What a very
+extraordinary country, to be sure! And do you always shoot anybody you
+may happen to see standing by the roadside of a summer's evening?'
+
+"'Oh no,' laughed Louis; 'we're not quite so savage as that. But you may
+fire at any suspicious body or thing, after due challenge, if the answer
+is not satisfactory. That's the rule of the road.'
+
+"After that I began to peer about in the gloom, rather anxiously trying
+to see if I could discover any suspicious body or thing, but I could
+make out nothing on account of the gloom, made more complete by the
+surrounding trees. Besides, we were going down hill very fast; we were,
+in fact, descending the steep bank of the first creek; then there was a
+bit of level in the wooded valley, then another stream, the South Fork
+it was called, then another steep climb, and we would once more be on
+the high and open prairie.
+
+"'Now, then, hold on tight!' said my brother-in-law, as he clutched the
+reins in both hands, braced his feet against the dashboard, and leaned
+far back in his seat. The horses seemed literally to disappear beneath
+our feet; the wagon went down head foremost with a lunge, there was a
+sudden jerk and great splashing and snorting, followed by a complete
+cessation of noise from the wheels, and a gentle swaying to and fro of
+the wagon. We were crossing the ford with the water breast high on the
+horses.
+
+"'I'm always glad when that ford is behind me,' said Louis to me, when
+we were again driving on quietly through the valley.
+
+"'Why?' said I; 'for there's another ford in front of us still.'
+
+"'Oh, the South Fork is nothing, but the Big Sugar is treacherous. I've
+known it rise twenty feet in two hours, and once I was water-bound on
+the other side for eleven days, unable to ford it. Emily would have gone
+out of her mind with anxiety, for the country was very disturbed at the
+time, only one of our neighbours, who saw me camping there, rode down to
+the house, and told her where I was, but, all the same----Hold! what's
+that?'
+
+"I didn't scream; I couldn't, for my heart almost stopped beating with
+terror.
+
+"'Take the reins,' said Louis, in a quick whisper.
+
+"I took hold of them as firmly as I could, but a pair of kittens could
+have run away with us, my hands trembled so. Louis got out his revolver;
+I heard click, click, click, in his hand, and then in the faint light I
+saw the gleam of steel.
+
+"'Halt! Who goes there?' called Louis, in a voice of thunder. I never
+heard his soldier-voice before, for ordinarily he speaks in a melodious
+baritone; and I then quite understood what Emily meant when she told me
+how his voice was heard above the din of battle, cheering his men on for
+the last charge at Gettysburg. I strained my eyes to see what it was,
+and there in front of us, not fifteen yards away, on the side of the
+road, I saw a man seated on horseback standing motionless, his right arm
+stretching forward, aiming straight towards us.
+
+[Sidenote: Two Pistol-shots]
+
+"Two livid tongues of flame darted from beside me--two quick reports of
+pistol-shots rang on the night air, then all was still. I felt the
+horses quiver, for the motion was communicated to me by the reins I held
+in my hands, but they were admirably trained animals, and did not move
+to the right or the left, only the younger one, a bay filly, snorted
+loudly. Louis sat silent and motionless, his revolver still pointing at
+the highwayman.
+
+"I scarcely breathed, but in all my life I never thought with such
+lightning rapidity. My whole household over here was distinct before me,
+with my husband and the children, and what they would do on getting the
+cablegram saying 'waylaid and murdered.'
+
+"I thought of a myriad things. I remember, amongst others, that it
+worried me to think that an over-charge of five shillings from Perkins
+for fowl, which my husband had just written to ask about, would now be
+paid because I could never explain that the pair of chickens had been
+returned. All this time--only a moment or two, you know--I was expecting
+instant death, while Louis and the horses remained motionless.
+
+"The smoke from the revolver slowly cleared away; a bat, startled by the
+noise, flapped against my face, and we saw the highwayman seated on his
+horse, standing immovable where he was, his right arm stretching out
+towards us with the same deadly aim.
+
+"'If that man is mortal, he should have dropped,' said Louis softly.
+'Both bullets struck him.'
+
+"We waited a moment longer. The figure remained as before.
+
+"'I must reconnoitre,' said Louis; 'I don't understand his tactics.'
+And, to my dismay, he prepared to get out of the wagon.
+
+"'Are you going away?' I asked breathlessly.
+
+"'Yes; sit still--the horses won't stir. I'm going to open fire at close
+quarters.'
+
+"I thought Louis's attempt at jocularity most ill-timed, but I said
+nothing. It seemed to me an immense time that he was gone, but he
+declares that it was not more than a minute and a quarter. Then I heard
+him laugh quietly to himself.
+
+"'All right, come on,' he said to me. 'Gee, whoa, haw, get up, girlies,'
+he said to the horses, and those sagacious beasts immediately walked
+straight towards the spot whence his voice came, without paying the
+least attention to me, who was holding the reins so tight, as I thought.
+
+"'Well, Milly, I suppose you'll never stop laughing,' was the first
+thing he said to me when the horses came to a standstill, with their
+noses almost in his beard.
+
+"'I never felt less like laughing,' I replied, hardly daring to believe
+that the peril was past and that I was still alive.
+
+"'Our highwayman is an old stump, don't you see?' exclaimed Louis. I
+looked again and saw that what he said was true; a gnarled tree stump,
+some twisted branches, a deceiving white vapour, and perhaps, too, our
+own vivid imaginations, these were the elements which had given birth to
+our highwayman.
+
+"'I never was more taken in,' said Louis, as he resumed his seat beside
+me. 'It was the dead image of a man on horseback holding out a pistol.
+I'll come down here to-morrow and examine the place, to find out how I
+could have been so silly, but in the daylight, of course, it will look
+quite different. I shan't ever dare to tell the story, however, for
+they'll laugh at me from the Red River to the Mississippi, and say I'm
+getting to be an old fool, and ought to have somebody to look after me!'
+
+"I saw that Louis was ashamed of the mistake he had made, but I was so
+thankful to be safe that I paid little heed to what he said. The next
+day he rode down to the Big Sugar Creek, sure enough, to identify the
+slain, as he said. When he came back, a couple of hours later, he was in
+high good-humour.
+
+"'I shall not be afraid to tell the story against myself now,' he said.
+'What do you think I found in the stump?'
+
+"'What did you find?' asked I, full of interest in this, the only
+highwayman I ever met.
+
+[Sidenote: The Last Laugh]
+
+"'_Sixteen bullet-holes!_ You see, there have been other fools as great
+as myself, but they were ashamed of their folly and kept it dark. I
+shall tell mine abroad and have the last laugh at all events.'"
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Dorothy played a highly important part at a critical period
+in the life of her father. She begins in disgrace and ends in triumph.]
+
+Dorothy's Day
+
+BY
+
+M. E. LONGMORE
+
+
+"My costume!" said Dorothy Graham, jumping up from the breakfast-table.
+
+"You need not smash _all_ the china!" observed Dick.
+
+"The parcels post never comes so early," murmured Dorothy's mother. "How
+impulsive that child is!"
+
+In a few minutes Dorothy came back with a crestfallen air and laid a
+brown, uninteresting-looking envelope by her mother's plate.
+
+"I might have known he never comes so early, except with letters," she
+remarked, sitting down again.
+
+"Of course you might," said Dick, clearing the bacon dish, "but you
+never know anything worth knowing."
+
+"Don't tease her," said Mrs. Graham kindly; "it is not often she gets a
+new frock."
+
+"A _costume_," corrected Dick, imitating Dorothy's voice. "A _real_
+tailor one--made in Bond Street!"
+
+Mr. Graham rustled his newspaper, and Dick succumbed.
+
+"Why, Dorothy!" Mrs. Graham was looking at her letter. "Dear me!" She
+ran her eyes quickly through its contents. "I'm afraid that costume
+won't come to-day. They've had a fire."
+
+[Sidenote: A Fire in Bond Street]
+
+"'Prescott's, Bond Street,'" said Mr. Graham, reading from a paragraph
+in the morning paper. "Here it is: 'A fire occurred yesterday afternoon
+in the ladies' tailoring department. The stock-room was gutted, but
+fortunately the assistants escaped without injury.'"
+
+Dorothy, with a very long face, was reading over her mother's shoulder:
+
+"In consequence of a fire in the tailoring department Messrs. Prescott
+beg to inform their customers that some delay will be caused in getting
+out this week's orders. Business will, however, be continued as usual,
+and it will greatly facilitate matters if ladies having costumes now in
+hand will repeat the order by wire or telephone to avoid mistakes."
+
+"It's very smart of them to have got that notice here so soon," said Mr.
+Graham.
+
+"Mother," said Dorothy, swallowing very hard, "do you think it is burnt?
+After being fitted and all!"
+
+"It is a disappointment," said her mother kindly, "but they'll make you
+another."
+
+"It's a _shame_!" burst out Dorothy, with very hot cheeks. "These sort
+of things always happen to _me_! Can't we go to Chelmsford and get one
+ready-made?"
+
+"That's a girl all over!" exclaimed Dick. "Now the man's down, let's
+kick him!"
+
+Mr. Graham turned his head with a sharp look at Dick, who immediately,
+getting very red, pretended to be picking up something under the table.
+
+"I didn't say _anything_ about _any_ man!" said Dorothy, appealing all
+round. "Mother, can't I have a costume from Chelmsford?"
+
+"No, dear," said Mrs. Graham coldly; "this one is ordered."
+
+"Dick is right, Dolly," said her father. "Don't you see it is the people
+who have had the _fire_ we should pity? And is it not bad enough to have
+their place burnt, without losing their customers?"
+
+Dorothy sulked. She thought every one was very unkind, and it seemed the
+last straw when father took Dick's part against her.
+
+It was time for Mr. Graham to go to town. He had eaten scarcely any
+breakfast, and Mrs. Graham, who had been anxiously watching him, had
+eaten none at all, but things of this sort children don't often notice.
+
+When he passed his little girl's chair, he put his hand kindly on her
+shoulder, and the tears that had been so near welled into her eyes.
+
+"Poor Dolly!" Mr. Graham said presently, as he reached for his hat,
+"everything seems of a piece." And he gave a great sigh.
+
+Mrs. Graham always went as far as the gate with him, and he thought they
+were alone in the hall, but Dick had followed them to the dining-room
+door. It was holiday-time, yet Dick was going to Chelmsford for an
+examination. He had come out intending to ask his father before he went
+to London for half a crown. Dick was just at the age when schoolboys try
+to appear exactly the reverse from what they are. He squabbled
+constantly with Dorothy, though he loved her very much, and now, when he
+heard his father sigh, he put his hands in his pockets as if he didn't
+care about anything, and went upstairs whistling.
+
+When Dick got to his room, he took a money-box from the mantelpiece and
+smashed it open with the poker. He had been saving up for a new bat, and
+the box contained seven shillings. He put the money in his pocket and
+ran down again in a great hurry.
+
+"Dick! Dick!" exclaimed his mother, catching him. "Come here! Let me
+brush your collar. How rough your hair is! Dick, you must have a new
+hat! You can't go into the hall with that one."
+
+"All serene, mother," said the boy, submitting impatiently to be
+overhauled. "I can buy a new hat and pitch the old one away."
+
+"How grandly some people talk!" said his mother, pinching his ear. "As
+if the world belonged to them. Well, never mind, dear boy! If you get on
+well and _pass_, no one will remember your hat was shabby. Have you got
+your fare?"
+
+[Sidenote: A Telegram]
+
+"Oh, mother, how you _do_ worry!" exclaimed Dick, wrenching himself
+away; "I've got lots of money--_heaps_!"
+
+He ran across the lawn, and just because he knew she was watching,
+jumped right over the azalea-bushes and wire fence instead of going out
+at the gate, and yet the tired look went out of Mrs. Graham's eyes, and
+a smile crept round her mouth as she watched him.
+
+Dorothy, standing at the dining-room window, saw him go too, and thought
+how horrid it was of Dick to look so glad when she was so unhappy.
+
+"Boys are always like that," she thought. "They don't care a bit about
+any one but themselves."
+
+Mrs. Graham came back into the room holding a telegram in her hand which
+she tore open quickly. Her face went red and then rather white.
+
+"What is it, mother?" said Dorothy eagerly. "Have they arrived?"
+
+"They have been in London two days," said Mrs. Graham, with a curious
+catch in her breath, and she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.
+"They want me up for a day's shopping. If I had known, I could have gone
+with father."
+
+Dorothy stood staring at her mother with wide-open eyes. Half a dozen
+castles in the air seemed tumbling about her head at the same time.
+
+They were expecting her mother's cousins over from America. Dorothy had
+been chattering about them to the girls at school all the term, and it
+was in honour of these very cousins she was having her first Bond Street
+costume. Her mother had not said that was the reason, but Dorothy knew
+it. She had a _sweet_, really _big_ hat too, with tiny rosebuds, and new
+gloves and boots. As a rule her mother was not particular about getting
+everything new at the same time, but she had taken enough pains this
+time to please Dorothy herself.
+
+"They do dress children so at Boston," Dorothy had overheard her mother
+say to Mr. Graham, as a sort of excuse. "I should like Dollie to look
+nice."
+
+And from that one sentence Dorothy had conjured up all sorts of things
+about these wonderful cousins. Of course she thought they were coming to
+stay with them. She expected there would be girls of her own age, and
+that they would be so charmed with their English cousin that they would
+invite her to go back to Boston with them. She had talked about them,
+and thought about them so much that she imagined her mother had _told_
+her all this, but really Mrs. Graham, who talked very little, didn't
+know much about her cousins herself, so she could not have given her
+little daughter all this information if she had been inclined to.
+
+And now it all seemed so _tame_. First no costume, then an ordinary wire
+to ask mother to go up for a day's shopping. They might have come from
+Surrey instead of America. And two whole days before they wired at all.
+
+Perhaps Mrs. Graham was thinking something of the kind too, for she
+stood biting her lip, with the colour going and coming in pretty blushes
+on her cheek, as if she could not make up her mind.
+
+She was just "mother" to Dorothy, but to other people Mrs. Graham was
+both pretty and sweet.
+
+"I _must_ go," she said at length, "and there is scarcely time to get
+ready."
+
+"Oh, _mother_!" cried Dorothy, "can't I come too?"
+
+Mrs. Graham still seemed to be considering something else, and she
+merely answered, "No, dear," and went quickly upstairs.
+
+Dorothy sank down on the sofa in a terribly injured mood. Nobody seemed
+to be thinking of _her_ at all. And before she had got over the first
+brunt of this discovery her mother was back again ready to go, with her
+purse-bag and gloves in her hand.
+
+[Sidenote: Left in Charge]
+
+"Dorothy," she said, arranging her hat before the mirror of the
+overmantel, "you may choose any pudding you like, tell cook. Here are
+the keys"--she paused to throw a small bunch in Dorothy's lap. "Get out
+anything they want. And Dick won't be in till half-past one, tell her.
+And Dollie"--there was again that queer little catch in her voice--"it
+is possible Miss Addiscombe may call this afternoon. I have told Louisa
+to show her right into the drawing-room without telling her I am out,
+and come and find you. I want you to be very nice to her, and explain
+about the Merediths. Tell her I was obliged to go because they only gave
+me the place of meeting, and I have not their address. I shall be home
+as soon as possible, between four and five at latest, so do your best to
+keep her till I come back."
+
+"Did you say Miss _Addiscombe_, mother?" said Dorothy dismally, yet a
+little comforted by having the keys, and with the thought of choosing
+the pudding, "I don't think _she's_ likely to call."
+
+"I said Miss Addiscombe," Mrs. Graham answered decidedly. "Do you
+understand what I wish you to do, Dollie?"
+
+"Yes, mother," said Dorothy, subdued but mutinous.
+
+Then she ran after her to the hall door.
+
+"Mayn't I ask some one to spend the day, mother?" she called, but Mrs.
+Graham was almost at the gate, nearly running to be in time for her
+train, and did not hear her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Graham came home looking very white and tired. "Did Miss Addiscombe
+call?" were the first words she said.
+
+Louisa, who was bringing in the tea, looked meaningly at Dorothy, and
+went out without speaking.
+
+"Oh, mother!" said Dorothy, "I am so sorry, I had been in all day, and
+Helen Jones just asked me to come to the post with her, and when I came
+back there was a motor at the door, and----"
+
+"She _came_!" exclaimed Mrs. Graham. "And you did not give her my
+message! Oh, Dorothy!"
+
+Her tone was almost like a cry of pain. Dorothy was startled. "She
+wouldn't wait, mother, and--and of course it _was_ strange she came
+to-day when she hasn't called for ages and ages! I didn't think she
+would, or I wouldn't have gone," she explained.
+
+Mrs. Graham did not argue the point. She lay down on the sofa and closed
+her eyes. Dorothy longed to ask her about the American cousins, but did
+not dare. Presently she poured out a cup of tea and brought it to her
+mother.
+
+"If you take some tea you will feel better, mother," she said softly.
+
+"If I had asked Dick to do something for me he would have done it,
+Dorothy," said Mrs. Graham bitterly, and without seeming to notice the
+tea she got up and gathered her things together. "I have a headache,"
+she said. "I am not coming down again. Father will not be home to-night,
+so you can tell Louisa there will be no need to lay the cloth for
+dinner. I don't wish any one to come near me." And she went out of the
+room.
+
+Poor Dorothy felt dreadfully uncomfortable and crestfallen. She had been
+alone all day, and it did seem such a little thing to go to the post
+with Helen Jones, who knew all about her costume, and quite agreed with
+her that it was a 'horrid shame' for people to be so careless as to have
+_fires_, when they had the charge of other people's things.
+
+Louisa had scolded her, and been very cross when she came in, but
+Dorothy really saw no reason why it mattered very much what Miss
+Addiscombe thought. It wasn't like mother to mind anything like that so
+much.
+
+Dick came in about half an hour later. He had been home to dinner, and
+had gone out again to a cricket match.
+
+"Mother has gone to bed," said Dorothy rather importantly. "She doesn't
+want to be disturbed, and you are not to go to her. She's got a
+headache, and father isn't coming home."
+
+[Sidenote: Dick's Strange Silence]
+
+Dick looked at her very hard, and without speaking went straight
+upstairs, listened a little, and opened his mother's door. "He _is_ a
+tiresome boy!" thought Dorothy; "now mother will think I never told
+him."
+
+Louisa brought in a poached egg, and some baked apples as he came down
+again.
+
+"Cook says it's so late, you had better make it your supper, sir," she
+said.
+
+"Mother wants a hot-water bottle," answered Dick; "she's as cold as ice.
+I think you or cook had better go up and see about her. Perhaps she'd
+better have a fire."
+
+"A fire in August! Oh, Dick, how _ridiculous_!" exclaimed Dorothy.
+
+"All right, sir," said Louisa, taking the indiarubber bottle he had
+brought down; "don't you worry."
+
+Dick took a book, and planting his elbows on the table, seemed to be
+reading; in reality he was blinking his eyelashes very hard, to keep
+back tears.
+
+Dorothy thought the whole world was going mad. As far as she knew the
+only trouble in it was her own.
+
+"Aren't you going to take any supper, Dick?" she said plaintively.
+
+Dick pushed the egg and apples away, and cutting himself a hunch of
+bread, went out of the room without speaking.
+
+"Every one is very polite to-night," thought Dorothy. However, she sat
+down, ate Dick's egg and helped herself to apples with plenty of sugar,
+and felt a little comforted.
+
+At eight o'clock she went up to bed, glad the tiresome, miserable day
+was at an end. She trod very softly, but her mother heard her and called
+her in.
+
+Dorothy was glad, for she spoke in her natural voice and not at all as
+if she were angry.
+
+She was still dressed and lying on the bed, but her hand, which had
+frightened Dick by being so cold, was now burning.
+
+"I spoke hastily to you, Dollie," she said. "You didn't know how
+important it was. I am going to tell you now, dear, for it may be a
+lesson to you."
+
+Dorothy stood awkwardly by the bed; she didn't like her mother to
+apologise, and she didn't want the lecture which she imagined was
+coming.
+
+"Father," said Mrs. Graham, "is in a very bad way indeed. I can't
+explain to you all about it because you would not understand, but a
+friend he trusted very much has failed him, and another friend has been
+spreading false rumours about his business. If he doesn't get enough
+money to pay his creditors by Saturday he must go bankrupt. Miss
+Addiscombe was a friend of his long ago. She has not been kind to him
+lately, and she has always been rude to me. I didn't tell father because
+I knew he would not let me, but I wrote and told her just how it was,
+and asked her to let bygones be bygones. I was hoping so much she would
+come, and if she came she would have lent him the money. She has so much
+it would mean nothing to her. Then I was disappointed in London. I
+thought Mr. Meredith would have been there--he is rich too--and my
+cousin, but he is not over at all: just his wife and daughter, and they
+are rushing through London. They were so busy we had scarcely time to
+speak. I half wonder they remembered my existence."
+
+"Oh, mother!" protested Dorothy; and then with great effort: "You could
+go over to-morrow to Miss Addiscombe, or write, mother; she would
+understand."
+
+"No, dear. It is no use thinking of it. To offend her once is to offend
+her always. Besides, I am tired out, and there are only two more days. I
+have told you because I didn't want it to all come quite suddenly, and
+you are so wrapt up in yourself, Dollie, you don't notice the way Dick
+does. If you had told me he had _passed_, Dorothy, when I came in, I
+should not have felt quite so bad."
+
+"But I didn't know, mother," said Dorothy. "Dick didn't tell me. _Has_
+he passed?"
+
+"Whose fault was it, Dollie? He came home to dinner and found you all
+alone. Did you _ask_ him how he had got on?"
+
+Dorothy hung her head. Mrs. Graham kissed her. "Well, go to bed and pray
+for dear father," she said. "It is worse for him than for any of us."
+
+Dorothy felt as if she were choking. When she got to the door she stood
+hesitating with her hand on the handle.
+
+"I have a hundred pounds in the Bank, mother, that grandma left me.
+Father can have that if it would be any use." She had made the offer
+with an effort, for Dorothy liked to have a hundred pounds of her own.
+What little girl would not? But her mother answered peevishly: "It would
+be no more use than if you offered him a halfpenny. Don't be foolish."
+
+Dick's door was open and Dorothy went in.
+
+"Isn't it dreadful, Dick!" she said. "What is _bankrupt_? How much money
+does father want?"
+
+"About fifteen hundred," said Dick savagely. "It's all that old
+Pemberton backing out of it. Father wanted to get his patents to
+Brussels, and he's got medals for them all, but it cost a lot of money
+and now they are not bought. So the business will go to smash, and he'll
+lose the patents besides, that's the worst of it!"
+
+"Dick," said Dorothy wistfully, "don't you think it would be better if
+father attended to his proper business and stopped inventing things when
+it costs so much?"
+
+Dick sprang up with blazing eyes.
+
+"You little brute!" he said, "go out of my room. No, I don't. Father's
+the cleverest and best man in the world. He can't help being a genius!"
+
+[Sidenote: The Last Straw]
+
+This was Dorothy's last straw; she went away and threw herself, dressed,
+on her bed, sobbing as if her heart would break. And only this morning
+she thought she was miserable because her new dress had not come.
+
+Dorothy cried till she could cry no longer, and then she got up and
+slowly undressed. The house was very still. A clock somewhere was
+striking ten, and it seemed to Dorothy as if it were the middle of the
+night. She was cold now as her mother had been, but no one was likely to
+come to her. She felt alone and frightened, and as if a wall had
+descended between her and Dick, and her mother and father. Among all the
+other puzzling and dreadful things, nothing seemed so strange to Dorothy
+as that Dick showed better than herself. He had gone up to mother when
+he was told not, and yet it was _right_ (even Dorothy could understand
+that) for him to disobey her, and _she_ had just gone to the post, and
+all this dreadful thing would come of it. Dorothy had always thought
+Dick was such a bad boy and she was so good, and now it seemed all the
+other way. She was _father's_ girl, too, and father was always down on
+Dick, yet--her eyes filled when she thought of it--Dick was loyal, and
+had called her a little brute, and mother said it was worst of all for
+father.
+
+She knelt down by her bed. Until to-night Dorothy had never really felt
+she needed Jesus as a friend, though she sometimes thought she loved
+Him. Now it seemed as if she _must_ tell some one, and she wanted Him
+very, very badly. So she knelt and prayed, and though she cried nearly
+all the time she felt much happier when she got up.
+
+"I am so selfish. I am so sorry. Please help me!" was the burden of poor
+Dollie's prayer, but she got into bed feeling as if Jesus had
+understood, and fell asleep quite calmly.
+
+In the morning Dorothy awoke early. It was scarcely light. It was the
+first time in her life she had woke to sorrow, and it seemed very
+dreadful. Yet Dorothy felt humble this morning, and not helpless as she
+had done last night. She felt as if Someone, much stronger than
+herself, was going to stand by her and help her through.
+
+[Sidenote: Dorothy's Project]
+
+Lying there thinking, many things seemed plain to her that she had not
+understood before, and a thought came into her head. It was _her_ fault,
+and she was the one who should suffer; not father, nor mother, nor Dick.
+It would not be easy, for Dorothy did not like Miss Addiscombe, and she
+was afraid of her, but she must go to her.
+
+Directly the thought came into her head Dorothy was out of bed and
+beginning to dress. And that mysterious clock which she had never heard
+before was just striking five when she stole like a little white ghost
+downstairs, carrying her shoes in her hand, and unbolting the side door,
+slipped out into a strange world which was still fast asleep.
+
+Miss Addiscombe lived ten miles away, but Dorothy did not remember
+anything about that. All her thought was to get there as soon as
+possible. One thing, she knew the way, for the flower-show was held in
+her grounds every year, and Dorothy had always been driven there. It was
+a nearly straight road.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+About ten o'clock that morning a gentleman was driving along the
+high-road when he suddenly pulled up his horse and threw the reins to
+the groom. It had been quite cool when Dorothy started, but now it was
+very hot, and there seemed no air at all. A little girl in a white frock
+was lying by the roadside.
+
+He stooped over her and felt her pulse, and Dorothy opened large,
+startled blue eyes.
+
+"What is it, my dear?" he said.
+
+"I am dying, I think," said Dorothy. "Tell mother I did _try_."
+
+He lifted her into his trap and got in beside her, telling the groom to
+drive on, and wondering very much. Dorothy gave a great sigh and began
+to feel better.
+
+"I think it is because I had no breakfast," she said. "Perhaps I am
+dying of _hunger_."
+
+The gentleman smiled, and searched his pockets. After a time he found
+some milk chocolate. Dorothy would rather have had water, but he made
+her eat a little. Then he took off her hat and gloves, and with a cool,
+soft handkerchief pushed back the hair that was clinging about her damp
+forehead and carefully wiped her face.
+
+"You'll feel better now," he said, fanning her with her hat, and putting
+it on again, as if he had never done anything but dress little girls in
+his life.
+
+Dorothy smiled with a great sigh of relief, and the gentleman smiled
+too. "Now tell us all about it," he said in a friendly way. "Where do
+you live, and where are you going?"
+
+When Dorothy told him he looked very much surprised, and at the same
+time interested, and before she knew what she was about, he had drawn
+from her the whole story, and the more she told him the more surprised
+and interested he became.
+
+"What was the name of the friend who failed your father?" he said at
+last, but Dorothy could not remember.
+
+"Was it Pemberton?" he suggested.
+
+"Oh, yes, Mr. Pemberton," said Dorothy. "At least, Dick said so."
+
+"You don't happen to be _Addiscombe_ Graham's little daughter," he said
+with a queer look, "do you?"
+
+"Father's name is Richard Addiscombe," said Dorothy doubtfully.
+
+"Well, the best thing you can do now is to come home with me and get
+some breakfast," he said. "It is no use going to the Park, for I have
+just been to the station, and Miss Addiscombe was there, with all her
+luggage, going off to the Continent."
+
+Poor Dorothy's heart sank like lead.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she said, "then it's been no use. Poor father!" and her eyes
+filled with tears.
+
+The gentleman did not speak, and in a few minutes they drove in at the
+gates of a beautiful country house, and he lifted her down and took her
+in with him, calling out "Elizabeth!"
+
+A tall girl, about eighteen, came running to him, and after whispering
+to her for a minute, he left Dorothy in her charge, and went into the
+room where his wife was sitting.
+
+"I thought you had gone to town?" she said.
+
+[Sidenote: Mr. Lawrence's Mistake]
+
+"Providentially, no," he said, so gravely that she looked surprised. "Do
+you remember Addiscombe Graham, dear?"
+
+"Has anything happened to him?" said Mrs. Lawrence. "I have just been
+reading about him in the paper; all his life-saving appliances have had
+gold medals at the exhibition. What is it, Edward? Of course, I know you
+are a friend of his."
+
+"A Judas sort of friend," said Mr. Lawrence. "Do you know what I've
+done? I've nearly landed him in the Bankruptcy Court. Pemberton told me
+a few weeks ago he had promised to give him some spare cash that would
+be loose at the end of the year, and I persuaded him to put it in
+something else. I said, 'Graham doesn't want it, he's simply _coining_
+over his inventions,' and I thought it too. Now it appears he was
+_counting_ on that money to pull him through the expenses."
+
+The tall girl took Dorothy upstairs to a beautiful bathroom, got her
+warm water, and asked if she would like a maid to do her hair.
+
+After a little while she came for her again and took her into a very
+pretty room, where there was a dainty little table laid for breakfast.
+
+"When you have finished," she said, "just lie on the sofa and rest. I am
+sorry I can't stay with you, but I must go and feed the peacocks."
+
+[Illustration: HER HOSTESS HAD BEEN FEEDING THE PEACOCKS.]
+
+Dorothy took a little toast and tea, but she did not feel so very hungry
+after all, and for a time was quite glad to lie down on the couch. Once
+or twice she got up and looked out of the window. Her girl hostess was
+moving across the lawn. She had evidently been feeding the peacocks,
+and was now gathering flowers. How pleasant all this wealth and comfort
+seemed to Dorothy! And then, by comparison, _she_ was feeling so
+miserable!
+
+Everything was quite quiet in the house save for the telephone bell,
+which kept sounding in the hall. Then she heard Mr. Lawrence calling
+out: "Are you _there_? Look sharp! Yes, to-day. Money down! Do you
+understand?" Then he would ring off and call up some one else. Last of
+all his voice changed from a business tone to a very friendly one. "Are
+you there? What cheer, old chap? _That's_ all right! I'll see you
+through. Two o'clock, Holborn Restaurant."
+
+Dorothy could not hear what was said on the other side. How surprised
+she would have been if she had known the last conversation was with her
+own father!
+
+Then a very kind-looking lady came in and kissed her. "The motor is
+round," she said. "I'm so glad to have seen you, dear. We all admire
+your father very much."
+
+Dorothy felt bewildered but followed her out, and there was a lovely
+motor, and her friend in it!
+
+"You won't faint by the way this time," he said, "eh? Now, if you can
+keep your own counsel, little lady, you may hear some good news
+to-night."
+
+They were tearing along the level road already, and almost in a flash,
+it seemed to Dorothy, they were passing the church of her own village.
+
+"Oh, please let me get out!" she said to Mr. Lawrence in an agony. "If
+mother heard the motor she might think it was Miss Addiscombe, and be so
+disappointed. You have been kind, very, very kind, but I can't help
+thinking about father."
+
+He let her out, and waving his hand, was soon off and out of sight.
+Dorothy walked slowly and sadly home. It seemed as if she had been away
+for _days_, and she was half afraid to go in, but to her surprise
+nothing seemed to have happened at all. Only Dick came rushing out, and,
+to her surprise, kissed her.
+
+[Sidenote: A Heroine]
+
+"I say, Dollie!" he began, "where _have_ you been? You gave me an awful
+fright. Don't tell any one I called you a brute."
+
+"Is mother frightened?" said Dollie. "I--I meant to help, but I've done
+nothing."
+
+"How could you help?" said Dick, surprised. "Mother stayed in bed; she
+is only getting up now."
+
+A boy came up with a telegram. Dick took it and after holding it a
+moment tore it open.
+
+"Oh, Dick!" expostulated Dorothy, "opening mother's telegram!"
+
+But Dick threw his cap high up in the air, and shouted "_Jubilate!_"
+Then he rushed up the stairs, Dorothy timidly following.
+
+This was the wire:
+
+"_See daylight. Meeting Lawrence at Holborn Restaurant._--FATHER."
+
+"Don't shut Dorothy out," said Mrs. Graham, holding the yellow paper,
+and with tears of joy standing in her eyes. "Why, my little girl, how
+pale you are! I wish I had not told you. You need never have known. Mr.
+Lawrence is just the man."
+
+"Oh, mother!" said Dorothy, springing into her arms, and beginning to
+laugh and cry at once, yet happier than she had ever been in her life
+before. "But if you hadn't told me it couldn't have happened."
+
+When Mr. Lawrence and father came down together that evening and the
+whole story was told, Dorothy, to her surprise, found when thinking
+least about herself she had suddenly become a heroine, even in the eyes
+of Dick.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A very unusual hunting episode, that nearly ended in a
+tragedy.]
+
+A Strange Moose Hunt
+
+BY
+
+HENRY WILLIAM DAWSON
+
+
+Some years ago, while living in Canada, in a village situated on the
+bank of a large river, I was a spectator of a moose hunt of a most novel
+and exciting character.
+
+That you may the better understand what I am going to relate I will
+first introduce you to our village Nimrod.
+
+As his real name is no concern of ours I will here give him his popular
+nickname of "Ramrod," a name by which he was well known not only in our
+village but for a considerable distance around. It was conferred upon
+him, I suppose, because he walked so upright and stiff, and also perhaps
+because he at one time had worn the Queen's uniform.
+
+A queer old stick was Ramrod. He knew a little of most mechanical things
+and was for ever tinkering at something or other, useful or otherwise as
+the case might be. He could also "doctor" a sick cow or dog, and was
+even known to have successfully set the broken leg of an old and
+combative rooster.
+
+His mechanical turn of mind was continually leading him to the
+construction of the most wonderful arrangements of wood and iron ever
+seen. In fact, his operations in this direction were only held in check
+by one want, but that a great one, namely, the want of a sufficiency of
+cash.
+
+[Sidenote: A Mystery]
+
+Now for the greater part of one spring Ramrod had shut himself up in his
+woodshed, and there he was heard busy with hammer and saw all day long,
+except when called forth by the tinkle of the little bell attached to
+the door of his shop, where almost anything might have been purchased.
+
+Many were the guesses as to "what can Ramrod be up to now?" And often
+did we boys try to catch a glimpse of what was going on within that
+mysterious shed; but in vain. Ramrod seemed to be always on the alert,
+and the instant an intrusive boy's head appeared above the first dusty
+pane of the small window by which the shed was lighted, it was greeted
+with a fierce and harsh gar-r-ar-r-r, often accompanied with a dash of
+cold water, which the old fellow always seemed to have in readiness.
+
+But one day as a lot of youngsters were down on the river bank preparing
+for an early swim they were startled by the advent of another lad, who,
+with scared looks and awful voice, declared that Ramrod was "making his
+own coffin," and that he, the boy, had seen it with his own eyes.
+
+The rumour spread, and many were the visits paid that afternoon to the
+little shop by the river.
+
+But Ramrod kept his secret well, and baffled curiosity had to return as
+wise as it came. Ramrod was determined that his work should not be
+criticised until completed. He had evidently heard the saying that
+"women, children, and fools should not be allowed to see a thing until
+finished."
+
+At last one day the great work _was_ completed, and turned out to be,
+not a coffin, but what the happy builder called a boat. But to call it a
+boat was a misnomer, for the thing was to be propelled not by oars but
+by a paddle.
+
+And certainly through all the ages since the construction of the ark of
+Noah was never such a boat as this. It would be impossible to convey in
+words a true idea of what the craft was like. Perhaps to take an
+ordinary boat, give it a square stern, a flat bottom without a keel, and
+straight sides tapering to a point at the bow, would give an approximate
+idea of what the thing actually was, and also how difficult to navigate.
+
+The winter had been unusually uneventful. Nothing had happened to break
+the cold monotony of our village life, so that when one day an excited
+and panting individual rushed up the river bank screaming out "A moose,
+a moose in the river!" it was only natural that we should all be thrown
+into a state of ferment.
+
+Some who possessed firearms rushed off to get them out, while others ran
+along the bank seeking a boat.
+
+As, however, the ice having only just "run," the boats and punts
+ordinarily fringing the river were still all up in the various barns and
+sheds where they had been stowed at the close of navigation, their
+efforts were in vain, and they could only stand fuming and casting
+longing eyes at the now retreating moose.
+
+For of course the animal had turned as soon as he perceived the hubbub
+which his appearance under such unusual circumstances had created.
+Instead, therefore, of crossing the river, it now made for an island
+which was about half a mile out in the stream.
+
+It had a good distance to swim, however, before it could accomplish
+that, and in the meantime preparations were being made a short way up
+the river which promised serious trouble for Mr. Moose.
+
+Of course, you may be sure that Ramrod had caught the excitement with
+the rest of us, and was equally desirous of the capture of the moose.
+But he was a modest man and would let others have a chance first.
+
+After a little while, though, when it became evident that unless
+something was done pretty soon the moose would escape, it was noticed
+that he became graver, and that his face wore a puzzled look of
+uncertainty.
+
+[Sidenote: Ramrod's "Coffin"]
+
+All at once, however, the doubt vanished, and Ramrod started off towards
+his house as fast as his long stiff legs would carry him.
+
+When he emerged he bore in one hand an ordinary rope halter, with a
+noose at one end, just such a halter as was used by all the farmers for
+securing their horses to their stalls. In his other hand was a paddle,
+and with these harmless-looking implements he was about to start in
+chase of the moose.
+
+Quickly proceeding to the river bank, he drew out from beneath a clump
+of bushes the "coffin," and, unheeding alike the warnings of the elders
+and derisive shouts of the youngsters, elicited by the appearance of his
+curious-looking craft, he knelt down in the stern and set out on his
+perilous adventure.
+
+But he had not gone far before it was seen that something was wrong.
+
+The boat had a will of its own, and that will was evidently exerted in
+direct opposition to the will of its owner.
+
+It went, but how? No schoolboy ever drew a truer circle with a bit of
+string and a slate-pencil than that cranky craft made on the placid
+surface of the river each time Ramrod put a little extra strength into
+his stroke.
+
+At last, however, the gallant boatman managed to make headway, and,
+aided by the current, he now rapidly approached the moose, which was
+considerably distressed by the great length of its swim.
+
+But the instant the animal became aware that it was being pursued, it
+redoubled its efforts to gain the island, which was not very distant.
+And this it would have succeeded in doing had it not been for the almost
+herculean exertions of Ramrod, by which it was eventually headed up
+stream again.
+
+And now a stern chase up and down and across the river ensued. It really
+did not last long, though it seemed hours to us who were watching from
+the bank.
+
+Just as Ramrod thought he had made sure of the moose this time, and
+dropping his paddle would seize the halter to throw over the head of the
+animal, the latter would make a sudden turn, and before the baffled
+hunter could regain command of his boat, would be well on his way down
+stream again.
+
+All this time the crowd collected on the bank were greatly concerned
+about Ramrod's safety.
+
+They saw, what he did not, that the affair would end in his getting a
+ducking at the very least. But worse than that was feared, as, once
+overturned, the miserable conception of a boat would be beyond the power
+of any one in the water to right it again. And, moreover, the water was
+still intensely cold, and a very few minutes would have sufficed to give
+the cramp to a much stronger man than Ramrod.
+
+Perceiving all this, some of the more energetic had from the first
+bestirred themselves in preparations for launching a boat.
+
+But this occupied some time, for, as I have said, the boats usually to
+be seen fringing the bank during the summer months had not yet made
+their appearance. Oars also and tholepins had to be hunted up, and by
+the time all this was accomplished the need of help out there on the
+river was very urgent indeed.
+
+Plenty of pluck had Ramrod, or he would have given up the chase when he
+found himself becoming so exhausted, by the tremendous exertion
+necessary to keep control of his cranky craft, that he had scarcely
+sufficient strength left to follow the deer in its many dodges and
+turnings.
+
+But strong as the moose was, its time had come. Suddenly the animal
+stopped, gave a scream that made the blood curdle in all our veins, and
+would have sunk out of sight only that, with a last desperate effort,
+Ramrod got up with it, and this time succeeded in throwing the halter
+over its head and drawing the noose tight.
+
+[Sidenote: An Upset]
+
+Thoroughly exhausted as the moose appeared to be, this act of Ramrod's
+roused it to make one more effort for life and freedom. Turning quickly
+about and snorting furiously, it made for its assailant, and before
+Ramrod could check it had capsized the boat and sent that worthy head
+over heels into the water.
+
+Presence of mind is a splendid quality, and Ramrod possessed it to the
+full. Retaining his hold of the halter, he endeavoured to right the
+boat, but soon perceiving the impossibility of so doing, he relinquished
+the attempt, and being a good swimmer, boldly struck out for the island,
+that being the nearest land.
+
+Refreshed by his involuntary bath, and not yet feeling the effects of
+the cold, Ramrod made no doubt but that he should easily accomplish the
+task.
+
+As for the moose, it was completely done up, and was now no more trouble
+than a log of wood. The effort by which it had overturned the boat was
+the last it made, and its captor was now quietly towing it ashore.
+
+But cold water does not agree with all constitutions, especially if the
+body has been fatigued and heated before its application.
+
+Cramp seized upon poor Ramrod, and though he made a gallant and
+desperate struggle to reach land with the aid of his arms alone, he felt
+that only by a miracle could he do so.
+
+Moment by moment he felt himself growing weaker and less able to
+withstand the chill which was striking through to his very heart.
+
+At last the supreme moment came. He could go no farther. Brave and
+collected to the last, he raised his eyes to heaven as in thought he
+commended his soul to his Maker.
+
+At that instant the sound of oars struck his ear, and the hope it
+brought him gave him sufficient strength to keep up until a friendly
+hand grasped him under the arm.
+
+With his last little bit of strength he raised his hand, still grasping
+the halter, and smiled triumphantly; then he lost consciousness.
+
+The "coffin" was brought ashore afterwards, but no one had the hardihood
+to navigate it. Even towing it was a trial of temper, for it kept
+swinging from side to side with a heavy jerking motion with every pull
+at the oars.
+
+Ramrod, I am glad to say, lived to have many a quiet paddle in his queer
+boat whenever he went a-fishing; and this, it appears, was all he
+intended it for when he built it.
+
+Thus ended this famous moose hunt, but the talk of it lasted for many a
+year; and whenever a pleasure-party were out on the river enjoying a
+sail by moonlight, this was the one story that was never stale, and
+mention of "Ramrod's coffin" would cause a smile to appear on the face
+of even the most grave.
+
+The moose, when brought ashore, proved to be quite young, though
+full-grown, as its horns were not much more than "buds."
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: Edith Harley was called upon to play a rather difficult part.
+But her patience and her obedience to the call of duty brought their own
+reward.]
+
+A Girl's Patience
+
+BY
+
+C. J. BLAKE
+
+
+"A letter from Rachel! Is it possible she can have relented at last?"
+
+Dr. Harley looked across the breakfast-table at his wife as he spoke;
+and the children, of all ages and sizes, who were busy with their bowls
+of porridge, stopped the clatter of tongues and spoons to listen.
+
+"Read it, dear," said Mrs. Harley, in her slow, gentle voice. "It must
+be ten years since Rachel wrote that last dreadful letter. Surely she
+must have learnt to forgive and forget by this time!"
+
+"Send some of these children away, then. Maude and Jessie can stay; but
+it is time the others were getting ready for lessons."
+
+There was a hurried, scrambling finish of the simple breakfast; then a
+little troop of boys and girls filed out of the rather shabby
+dining-room, and Dr. and Mrs. Harley were alone with their elder
+daughters.
+
+          "'MY DEAR BROTHER,'" began the doctor,--"'I am
+          growing an old woman now, and in spite of the good
+          reasons I had for ceasing to write, or to
+          communicate with you in any way, I do not feel
+          that I can keep up the estrangement from my own
+          flesh and blood any longer.
+
+          "'If you like to let bygones be bygones, I, on my
+          side, am quite willing to do the same. I am
+          writing, too, because I have heard a good deal, in
+          one way or another, about your large and expensive
+          family, and the difficulty you have in making both
+          ends meet. It has been more than hinted to me that
+          I ought to render, or at least offer, you some
+          assistance. I have thought perhaps the best thing
+          would be to take one of your girls for a six
+          months' visit; to stay longer, or, indeed, always,
+          if I should, after such a trial, continue to be
+          pleased with her.
+
+          "'I don't want a young child, but one old enough
+          to be companionable. Of course I would provide for
+          education, and everything, so long as she stayed
+          with me. It would surely be a relief to have even
+          one of such a number taken off your hands, and it
+          would be the girl's own fault if the relief were
+          not made permanent. If this should meet your
+          views, write at once, and fix a date for one of
+          your daughters to come to me. Your affectionate
+          sister,
+
+                                           "'RACHEL HARLEY.'"
+
+
+"Oh, papa!" exclaimed Maude and Jessie in a breath, "how could we ever
+leave you, and dear mamma too! We should be miserable away from home."
+
+"From Aunt Rachel's letter, I should think she must be a dreadfully
+stiff sort of person," added audacious Jessie. "Please don't say that we
+shall have to go."
+
+"Not so fast, my dear," returned her father. "Only one of you all can
+go, and I do not think either you or Maude could possibly be spared. But
+what does mamma say?"
+
+"You know my wretched health, Henry," said Mrs. Harley. "I never could
+do without Maude to look after the housekeeping; and Jessie saves both
+school and governess for the younger ones. But then there is Edith. Why
+should not Edith go?"
+
+[Sidenote: Edith Harley]
+
+"Why, indeed?" repeated the doctor. "Edith does nothing but mischief--at
+least, so far as the account of her doings reaches my ears. She is quite
+too big for Jessie to teach, and we cannot afford to send her to a good
+school at present, which is the thing that ought to be done. It really
+seems to me a providential opening for Edith."
+
+"Poor Edie!" sighed the mother again. "It would be a hard life for her,
+I am afraid."
+
+"Oh, nonsense, Maria! You were always unjust to Rachel. You think,
+because she took such deep offence, that there can be nothing good in
+her. Surely I ought to know my own sister's character! Rachel would do
+her duty by any inmate of her home--of that I am quite certain."
+
+"Well, Henry, it would be a help in many ways. Edith is growing such a
+great girl, nearly fifteen now, and if it would lighten your cares to
+have her provided for, I ought not to resist. But at least it would be
+well to let her know what you think of doing, and hear what she says."
+
+"I don't know that what she says need affect the question much. The fact
+is, Maria, something will have to be done. We are exceeding what we can
+afford even now, and the children will be growing more expensive instead
+of less so. For my own part, I can only feel glad of Rachel's offer. I
+must go now; but you can tell Edith, if you like; and tell her, too, to
+hold herself in readiness, for the sooner the matter is settled the
+better."
+
+Edith Harley, called indifferently by her brothers and sisters the
+Middle One and the Odd One, was the third daughter and the fifth child
+of this family of nine. She was a rather tall, awkward girl, who grew
+out of her frocks, and tumbled her hair, and scandalised her elder
+sisters, in their pretty prim young ladyhood, by playing with the boys
+and clinging obstinately, in spite of her fifteen years, to her hoop and
+skipping-rope. An unfortunate child was this chosen one, always getting
+into scrapes, and being credited with more mischief than she ever really
+did.
+
+It was Edith who had caught the whooping-cough through playing with some
+of the village children, and had brought it home, to be the plague of
+all the nine for a whole winter and spring.
+
+It was Edith who took Johnnie and Francie down to the pondside to play,
+and let them both tumble in. True, she went bravely in herself and
+rescued them, but that did not count for very much. They were terribly
+wet, and if they had been drowned it would have been all her fault.
+
+It was Edith who let Tom's chickens out for a run, and the cat came and
+killed two of them; that was just before she forgot to shut the
+paddock-gate, when the donkey got into mamma's flower-garden and spoilt
+all the best plants.
+
+So poor Edith went on from day to day, thankful if she could only lay
+her head upon her pillow at night without being blamed for some fresh
+escapade, yet thoroughly happy in the freedom of her country life, in
+the enjoyment of long summer-day rambles, and endless games with the
+little brothers, who thought her "the jolliest girl that ever was," and
+followed her lead without scruple, sure that whatever mischief she might
+get them into she would bravely shield them from the consequences.
+
+A country doctor, with a not very lucrative practice, Dr. Harley had,
+when Edith was about ten years old, sustained a severe pecuniary loss
+which greatly reduced his income. It was then that the governess had to
+be given up, and the twin boys who came next to Maude and Jessie were
+sent to a cheaper school. These boys were leaving now, one to go to the
+university, through the kindness of a distant relative, the other to
+pass a few weeks with the London coach who would prepare him for a Civil
+Service examination.
+
+Jessie, a nice, clever girl, with a decided taste for music, could teach
+the four younger ones very well--had done so, indeed, ever since Miss
+Phipps left; but in this, as in everything, Edith was the family
+problem. She could not, or would not, learn much from Jessie; she hated
+the piano and needlework, and even professed not to care for books.
+
+[Sidenote: "Would it help Papa?"]
+
+Yet she astonished the entire family sometimes by knowing all sorts of
+odd out-of-the-way facts; she could find an apt quotation from some
+favourite poet for almost any occasion, and did a kind of queer
+miscellaneous reading in "a hole-and-corner way," as her brother Tom
+said, that almost drove the sister-governess to distraction.
+
+And now the choice of a companion for Miss Rachel Harley, the stern,
+middle-aged aunt, whom even the elder girls could scarcely remember to
+have seen, had fallen upon Edith.
+
+The news came to her first as a great blow. There could not be very much
+sympathy between the gentle, ailing, slightly querulous mother and the
+vigorous, active girl; yet Edith had very strong, if half-concealed,
+home affections, and it hurt her more than she cared to show that even
+her mother seemed to feel a sort of relief in the prospect of her going
+away for so long.
+
+"Don't you _mind_ my going, mamma?" she said at last, with a little
+accent of surprise.
+
+"Well, Edith dear, papa and I think it will be such a good thing for you
+and for us all. You have been too young, of course, to be told about
+money matters, but perhaps I may tell you now, for I am sure you are old
+enough to understand, that papa has a great many expenses, and is often
+very much worried. There are so many of you," added the poor mother,
+thinking with a sigh of her own powerlessness to do much towards lifting
+the burden which pressed so heavily upon her husband's shoulders.
+
+"Do you think it would help papa, then, if I went?" asked the girl
+slowly.
+
+"Indeed I do. You would have a good home for a time, at all events; and
+if your Aunt Rachel should take to you, as we may hope she will if you
+earnestly try to please her, she may be a friend to you always."
+
+"Very well, then; I shall try my best to do as you and papa wish."
+
+That was all Edith said, and Mrs. Harley was quite surprised. She had
+expected tears and protests, stormy and passionate remonstrances--not
+this quiet submission so unlike Edith.
+
+Perhaps no one understood the girl less than her own mother. It might
+have helped Mrs. Harley to know something of her daughter's inner nature
+if she could have seen her, after their talk together, steal quietly up
+to the nursery, where there were only the little ones at play, and,
+throwing her arms round little Francie, burst into a fit of quiet
+sobbing that fairly frightened the child.
+
+"What is it, Edie? Don't cry, Edie! Francie'll give you a kiss, twenty
+kisses, if you won't cry," said the pretty baby voice.
+
+"Your poor Edie's going away, and it will break her heart to leave you,
+my pet," said the girl through her tears, straining the child in a
+passionate embrace. Presently she grew calmer, and put the wondering
+little one down.
+
+"There, Francie, I've done crying now, and you needn't mind. You'll
+always love Edie, won't you, if she does go away?"
+
+"Yes, always, always love Edie," said the child; and Johnnie chimed in
+too, "And me--me always love Edie."
+
+But there were the boys to be told after that--Alfred and Claude, the
+two bright boys of ten and eight years, who had been her own especial
+playmates; and loud was their outcry when they heard that Edith was
+going.
+
+"We might as well have no sisters," said the ungrateful young rascals.
+"Maude and Jessie don't care for us. They only think we're in the way.
+They're always telling us to wipe our feet, and not make such a noise;
+and Francie's too little for anything. We'd only got Edith, and now
+she's to go. It's too bad, that it is!"
+
+But their protest availed nothing. The very same night Dr. Harley wrote
+to his sister, thanking her for her kind offer, and adding that, if
+convenient, he would bring his daughter Edith, fifteen years of age, to
+her aunt's home at Silchester in a week's time.
+
+There was much to do in that short week in getting Edith's wardrobe into
+something like order. Each of the elder sisters sacrificed one of their
+limited number of dresses to be cut down and altered for the younger
+one.
+
+The May sunshine of a rather late spring was beginning to grow warm and
+genial at last, and the girl really must have a new hat and gloves and
+shoes, and one or two print frocks, before she could possibly put in an
+appearance at Aunt Rachel's.
+
+Almost anything had done for running about the lanes at Winchcomb, where
+every one knew the Harleys, and respected them far more for not going
+beyond their means, than they would have done for any quantity of fine
+apparel.
+
+[Sidenote: Goodbye!]
+
+But the preparations were finished at last, the goodbyes were said, and
+Edith, leaving home for the first time in her life, sat gravely by her
+father's side in the train that was timed to reach Silchester by six in
+the evening.
+
+She had been up very early that morning, before any of the others were
+astir; and when she was dressed, went out into the garden, where she
+could be alone, to think her last thoughts of the wonderful change in
+her life.
+
+She had gone on always so carelessly and happily, that the new turn of
+affairs sobered and startled her. She seemed to herself to say goodbye,
+not only to her home, but to the long, bright, happy childhood that had
+been spent there. And her thoughts were full of the few words Mrs.
+Harley had spoken about her papa's expenses and worries.
+
+"If I had only known," she said to herself; "if I had only thought about
+things, I would have tried to learn more, and be some help while I was
+here. But it is no use grieving about that now; it seems to me I am come
+to what our rector calls a 'turning point.' I can begin from to-day to
+act in a different way, and I will. I will just think in everything how
+I can help them all at home. I will try to please Aunt Rachel, and get
+her to like me, and then perhaps I shall grow in time to bear the
+thought of staying with her for a long, long while. Only, my poor boys
+and my dear little Johnnie and Francie--I did think I should have had
+you always. But it will be good for you, too, if I get on well at
+Silchester."
+
+When she had gone so far, Nancy, the housemaid, came out with broom and
+bucket, and the mingled sounds of laughing and crying, and babel of many
+voices that floated out through the opened windows, told Edith that the
+family were rising for the last breakfast together.
+
+It was a good thing when all the farewells were over, and for the first
+few miles of the journey she was thankful to sit in silence in the
+stuffy second-class carriage, and use all her strength of will to keep
+back the tears that would try to come.
+
+"Papa," she said shyly, as her father laid down his newspaper, and woke
+up to the fact that the two ladies who had begun the journey with them
+had got out at the last station--"papa, I want you to promise me
+something, please."
+
+"Well, Edith, what is it?"
+
+"I want you to promise not to tell Aunt Rachel about all the things that
+I have done--while I was at home, I mean."
+
+"You have never done anything very dreadful, child," said the doctor
+with a smile. "Your Aunt Rachel has not been accustomed to little girls,
+it is true; but I suppose she won't expect you to be quite like an old
+woman."
+
+[Sidenote: "I will do my very best"]
+
+"No; but if she knew about Johnnie and Francie falling into the water,
+and about the chickens, and how Alfred and I let Farmer Smith's cow into
+the potato-field, and the other things, she might not understand that I
+am going to be different; and I shall be different--I shall indeed,
+papa."
+
+"Yes, Edith, it is time you began to be more thoughtful, and to remember
+that there are things in the world, even for boys and girls, far more
+important than play. If it will be any comfort to you, I will readily
+promise not to mention the cow, or the chickens, or even that famous
+water escapade. But I shall trust to your own good sense and knowledge
+of what is right, and shall expect you to make for yourself a good
+character with your aunt. You may be sure she will, from the first, be
+influenced much more by your behaviour than by anything I can say."
+
+"Yes, I know," murmured Edith. "I will do my very best."
+
+She would have liked to say something about helping her father in his
+difficulties, but the shyness that generally overcame her when she
+talked to him prevented any further words on the subject; and Dr. Harley
+began to draw her attention to the objects of interest they were
+passing, and to remark that in another twenty minutes they would be
+half-way to Silchester.
+
+It seemed a long while to Edith before the train drew up in the large,
+glass-roofed station, so different from the little platform at
+Winchcomb, with the station-master's white cottage and fragrant
+flower-borders. Silchester is not a very large town, but to the
+country-bred girl the noise and bustle of the station, and of the first
+two or three streets through which they were driven in the cab Dr.
+Harley had called, seemed almost bewildering.
+
+Very soon, however, they began to leave shops and busy pavements behind,
+and to pass pretty, fancifully-built villas, with very high-sounding
+names, and trim flower-gardens in front. Even these ceased after a
+while, and there were first some extensive nursery grounds, and then
+green open fields on each hand.
+
+"It will be quite the country after all, papa!" exclaimed Edith,
+surprised.
+
+"Not quite, Edith. You will only be two or three miles out of
+Silchester, instead of twenty miles from everywhere, as we are at
+Winchcomb. Look! that is Aunt Rachel's house, just where the old Milford
+Lane turns out of the road--that house at the corner, I mean."
+
+"Where?" said Edith, half-bewildered. Her unaccustomed eyes could see
+nothing but greenery and flowers at first, for Miss Harley's long, low,
+two-storey cottage was entirely overgrown with dense masses of ivy and
+other creeping plants. It stood well back from the road, in a grassy,
+old-fashioned garden, shaded by some fine elms; and one magnificent
+pear-tree, just now glorious in a robe of white blossoms, grew beside
+the entrance-gate.
+
+"Oh, papa, what a lovely old house!" cried the girl involuntarily. "Did
+you know it was like this?"
+
+Dr. Harley smiled.
+
+"I suppose you think it lovely, Edith. I have often wondered, for my own
+part, why your aunt should bury herself here. But come--jump out; there
+she is at the door. The King's Majesty would not draw her to the garden
+gate, I think."
+
+Edith got out of the cab, feeling like a girl in a dream, and followed
+her father up the gravel walk, noting mechanically the gorgeous
+colouring of tulips and hyacinths that filled the flower-beds on either
+hand.
+
+A tall, grey-haired lady, well advanced in life, came slowly forward,
+holding out a thin, cold hand, and saying in a frigid tone, "Well,
+brother, so we meet again after these ten years. I hope you are well,
+and have left your wife and family well also."
+
+[Sidenote: A Doubtful Welcome]
+
+"Quite well, thank you, Rachel, excepting Maria, who is never very well,
+you know," said the doctor heartily, taking the half-proffered hand in
+both his. "And how are you, after all this long time? You don't look a
+day older than when we parted."
+
+"I am sorry I cannot return the compliment," remarked the lady, with a
+grim smile. "I suppose it is all the care and worry of your great family
+of children that have aged you so. And Maria was always such a poor,
+shiftless creature. I daresay, now, with all that your boys and girls
+cost you, you have two or three servants to keep, instead of making the
+girls work, and saving the wages and the endless waste that the best of
+servants make."
+
+"We have but two," said the doctor, in a slightly irritated tone of
+voice. "My girls and their mother are ladies, Rachel, if they are poor.
+I can't let them do the rough work. For the rest, they have their hands
+pretty full, I can assure you. You have little idea, living here as you
+do, how much there is to be done for a family of nine children."
+
+"No, I am thankful to say I have not. But you had better come in, and
+bring the girl with you."
+
+With these ungracious words Aunt Rachel cast her eyes for the first time
+upon Edith, who had stood a silent and uncomfortable listener while her
+father and aunt were talking.
+
+"Humph!" ejaculated Miss Harley, after looking her niece over from top
+to toe with a piercing, scrutinising gaze, that seemed to take in every
+detail of figure, face, and toilette, and to disapprove of all; "humph!
+The child looks healthy, and that is all I can say for her. But bring
+her in, Henry--Stimson and the boy can see to her box. I suppose you
+will stay yourself for to-night?"
+
+"I should not be able to go home to-night, as you know," replied Dr.
+Harley. "But if my staying would be at all inconvenient, I can go to one
+of the Silchester hotels."
+
+His sister Rachel proved to be the same irritating, cross-grained woman
+he had quarrelled with and parted from so long before, and he was a
+little disappointed, for it is wonderful how time softens our thoughts
+of one another, and how true it is that--
+
+          "No distance breaks the tie of blood,
+            Brothers are brothers evermore."
+
+Although Miss Rachel ruffled and annoyed him at every second
+word--"rubbed him up the wrong way," as her maid Stimson would have
+said--the doctor had a real regard for her in his heart, and respected
+her as a woman of sterling principle, and one whose worst faults were
+all upon the surface.
+
+"There is no need to talk about hotels," and Miss Harley drew herself
+up, half-offended in her turn. "It's a pity if I can't find houseroom
+for my own brother, let him stay as long as he will. Now, Edith, if that
+is your name, go along with Stimson, and she will show you your room,
+where you can take off your hat and things. And be sure, mind you brush
+your hair, child, and tie it up, or something. Don't come down with it
+hanging all wild about your shoulders like that."
+
+Poor Edith's heart sank. She was rather proud of her luxuriant brown
+tresses, which her mother had always allowed her to wear in all their
+length and beauty, and she did not even know how to tie them up herself.
+
+"This way, miss," said the prim, elderly servant. "I knew as soon as I
+saw you that your hair would never do for Miss Harley. I'll fix it
+neatly for you."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Edith, much relieved; and in a few minutes all the
+flowing locks were gathered into one stiff braid, and tied at the end
+with a piece of black ribbon.
+
+"There, now you look more like a young lady should!" cried Stimson,
+surveying her handiwork with pleasure. "You'll always find me ready to
+oblige you, miss, if you'll only try to please Miss Harley; and you
+won't mind my saying that I hope you'll be comfortable here, and manage
+to stay, for it's frightful lonely in the house sometimes, and some one
+young about the place would do the mistress and me good, I'm sure."
+
+[Sidenote: A Great Improvement]
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Edith again. She could not trust herself to say
+more, for the words, that she felt were kindly meant, almost made her
+cry.
+
+"Now you had better go down to the parlour," Stimson went on. "Miss
+Harley and your papa won't expect you to be long, and the tea is ready,
+I know."
+
+With a beating heart Edith stepped down the wide, old-fashioned
+staircase, and went shyly in at the door which Stimson opened for her.
+She found herself in a large, handsomely-furnished room, where the table
+was laid for tea; and Miss Harley sat before the tray, already busy with
+cups and saucers.
+
+"Come here, Edith, and sit where I can see you. Yes, that is a great
+improvement. Your hair looks tidy and respectable now."
+
+After this greeting, to Edith's great relief, she was left to take her
+tea in peace and silence, the doctor and his sister being occupied in
+conversation about their early days, and continually mentioning the
+names of persons and places of whom she knew little or nothing.
+
+Only once the girl started to hear her aunt say, "I always told you,
+Henry, that it was a great mistake. With your talents you might have
+done almost anything; and here you are, a man still in middle life,
+saddled and encumbered with a helpless invalid wife and half a score of
+children, to take all you earn faster than you can get it. It is a mere
+wasted existence, and if you had listened to me it might all have been
+different."
+
+"How cruel!" exclaimed Edith to herself indignantly. "Does Aunt Rachel
+think I am a stock or a stone, to sit and hear my mother--all of
+us--spoken about like that? I shall never, never be able to bear it!"
+
+Even the doctor was roused. "Once for all, Rachel," he said in a
+peremptory tone, "you must understand that I cannot allow my wife and
+children to be spoken of in this manner. No doubt I have had to make
+sacrifices, but my family have been a source of much happiness to me;
+and Maria, who cannot help her health, poor thing! has done her best
+under circumstances that would have crushed a great many women. As for
+the children, of course they have their faults, but altogether they are
+good children, and I often feel proud of them. You have been kind enough
+to ask Edith to stay here, but if I thought you would make her life
+unhappy with such speeches as you made just now, I would take her back
+with me to-morrow."
+
+"Well, well," said Miss Harley, a little frightened at the indignation
+she had raised. "You need not take me up so, Henry. Of course I shall
+not be so foolish as to talk to the child just as I would to you. I have
+her interest and yours truly at heart; and since I don't want to quarrel
+with you again, we will say no more of your wife and family. If you have
+quite finished, perhaps we might take a turn in the garden."
+
+The rest of the evening passed quietly away. Edith was glad when the
+time came to go to her room, only she so dreaded the morrow, that would
+have to be passed in Aunt Rachel's company, without her father's
+protecting presence.
+
+Soon after breakfast in the morning the doctor had to say goodbye. It
+was a hard parting for both father and daughter. Edith had never known
+how dearly she loved that busy and often-anxious father till she was
+called to let him go. As for the doctor, he was scarcely less moved, and
+Miss Rachel had to hurry him away at last, or he would have lost the
+train it was so important he should catch.
+
+Somehow the doctor never could be spared from Winchcomb. There was no
+other medical man for miles round, and people seemed to expect Dr.
+Harley to work on from year's end to year's end, without ever needing
+rest or recreation himself.
+
+[Sidenote: A Close Examination]
+
+As soon as they were left alone, Miss Rachel called Edith into the
+parlour, and bidding her sit down, began a rigorous inquiry as to her
+capabilities and accomplishments--whether she had been to school, or had
+had a governess; whether she was well grounded in music, and had studied
+drawing and languages; what she knew of plain and fancy needlework; if
+her mother had made her begin to learn cookery--"as all young women
+should," added Miss Rachel, sensibly enough.
+
+Poor Edith's answers were very far from satisfying Miss Harley.
+
+"You say you have had no teacher but your sister since Miss Phelps, or
+Phipps, or whatever her name was, left. And how old is your sister, may
+I ask?"
+
+"Jessie is eighteen," answered Edith. "And she is very clever--every one
+says so, especially at music."
+
+"Why didn't she teach you, then, and make you practise regularly? You
+tell me you have had no regular practice, and cannot play more than two
+or three pieces."
+
+"It is not Jessie's fault," said Edith, colouring up. "Papa and mamma
+liked us all to learn, but I am afraid, aunt, I have no natural talent
+for music. I get on better with some other things."
+
+Aunt Rachel opened a French book that lay on the table.
+
+"Read that," she said shortly, pointing to the open page.
+
+Edith was at home here; her pronunciation was rather original, it is
+true, but she read with ease and fluency, and translated the page
+afterwards without any awkward pauses.
+
+"That is better," said her aunt, more graciously. "You shall have some
+lessons. As for the music, I don't believe in making girls, who can't
+tell the National Anthem from the Old Hundredth, strum on the piano
+whether they like it or not. You may learn drawing instead. And then I
+shall expect you to read with me--good solid authors, you know, not
+poetry and romances, which are all the girls of the present day seem to
+care for."
+
+"Thank you, aunt," said Edith. "I should like to learn drawing very
+much."
+
+"Wait a while," continued Miss Harley. "Perhaps you won't thank me when
+you have heard all. I shall insist upon your learning plain needlework
+in all its branches, and getting a thorough insight into cookery and
+housekeeping. With your mother's delicate health there ought to be at
+least one of the daughters able to take her place whenever it is
+needful. Your sisters don't know much about the house, I daresay."
+
+"Maude does," answered Edith, proud of her sister's ability. "Maude can
+keep house well--even papa says so."
+
+"And Jessie?"
+
+"Jessie says her tastes are not domestic, and she has always had enough
+to do teaching us, and looking after the little ones."
+
+"And what did you do?" demanded Aunt Rachel. "You can't play; you can't
+sew. By your own confession, you don't know the least thing about
+household matters. It couldn't have taken you all your time to learn a
+little French and read a few books. What _did_ you do?"
+
+Edith blushed again.
+
+"I--I went out, Aunt Rachel," she said at last.
+
+"Went out, child?"
+
+"Yes. Winchcomb is a beautiful country place, you know, and Alfred and
+Claude and I were nearly always out when it was fine. We did learn
+something, even in that way, about the flowers and plants and birds and
+live creatures. Papa always said plenty of fresh air would make us
+strong and healthy, and, indeed, we _are_ well. As for me, I have never
+been ill that I remember since I was quite a little thing."
+
+[Sidenote: We will Change all that!]
+
+"My patience, child! And did Maria--did your mother allow you to run
+about with two boys from morning till night?"
+
+"It is such a quiet place, aunt, no one thought it strange. We knew all
+the people, and they were always glad to see us--nearly always," added
+truthful Edith, with a sudden remembrance of Mr. Smith's anger when he
+found his cow in the potato field, and one or two other little matters
+of a like nature.
+
+"Well, I can only say that you have been most strangely brought up. But
+we will change all that. You will now find every day full of regular
+employments, and when I cannot walk out with you I shall send Stimson.
+You must not expect to run wild any more, but give yourself to the
+improvement of your mind, and to fitting yourself for the duties of
+life. Now I have letters to write, and you may leave me till I send for
+you again. For this one day you will have to be idle, I suppose."
+
+Edith escaped into the garden, thankful that the interview was over, and
+that, for the time at least, she was free.
+
+The very next day she was introduced to Monsieur Delorme, who undertook
+to come from Silchester three times a week to give her lessons in
+French, and to Mr. Sumner, who was to do the same on the three alternate
+days, for drawing. It seemed a terrible thing to Edith at first to have
+to learn from strangers; but Monsieur Delorme was a charming old
+gentleman, with all the politeness of his nation; and, as Edith proved a
+very apt pupil, they soon got on together beautifully.
+
+Mr. Sumner was not so easy to please. A disappointed artist, who hated
+teaching, and only gave lessons from absolute necessity, this gentleman
+had but little patience with the natural inexperience of an untrained
+girl.
+
+But Edith had made up her mind to overcome all difficulties, and it was
+not very long before she began to make progress with the pencil too, and
+to enjoy the drawing-lesson almost as well as the pleasant hours with
+Monsieur Delorme.
+
+These were almost the only things she did enjoy, however. It was hard
+work to read for two hours every morning with Miss Rachel, who made her
+plod wearily through dreary histories and works of science that are
+reduced to compendiums and abridgements for the favoured students of the
+present day.
+
+But even that was better than the needlework, the hemming and stitching
+and darning, over which Stimson presided, and which, good and useful as
+it is, is apt to become terribly irksome when it is compulsory, and a
+poor girl must get through her allotted task before she can turn to any
+other pursuit.
+
+Every day, too, Edith went into the kitchen and learned pastry-making
+and other mysteries from the good-natured cook, who, with Stimson, and
+the boy who came daily to look after the garden and pony made up Aunt
+Rachel's household.
+
+What with these occupations, and the daily walk or drive, the girl found
+her time pretty well taken up, and had little to spare for the rambles
+in the garden she loved so much, and for writing letters home.
+
+To write and to receive letters from home were her greatest pleasures,
+for the separation tried her terribly.
+
+It was difficult, too, for one who had lived a free, careless life, to
+have to do everything by rule, and submit to restraint in even the
+smallest matters.
+
+In spite of her efforts to be cheerful and to keep from all complaining,
+Edith grew paler and thinner, and so quiet, that Aunt Rachel was quite
+pleased with what she called her niece's "becoming demeanour."
+
+The girl was growing fast; she was undoubtedly learning much that was
+useful and good, but no one knew what it cost her to go quietly on from
+day to day and never send one passionate word to the distant home,
+imploring her father to let her return to the beloved circle again.
+
+[Sidenote: A Welcome Letter]
+
+But the six months, though they had seemed such a long time to look
+forward to, flew quickly by when there were so many things to be done
+and learned in them. Edith began to wonder very much in the last few
+weeks whether she had really been able to please her aunt or not.
+
+It was not Miss Harley's way to praise or commend her niece at all.
+Young people required setting down and keeping in their proper places,
+she thought, rather than having their vanity flattered. Yet she could
+not be blind to Edith's honest and earnest efforts to please and to
+learn, and at the end of the six months a letter went to Winchcomb,
+which made both Dr. and Mrs. Harley proud of their child.
+
+"Edith has her faults, as all girls have," wrote Miss Rachel; "but I may
+tell you that ever since she came I have been pleased with her conduct.
+She makes the best use of the advantages I am able to give her, and I
+think you will find her much improved both in knowledge and deportment.
+You had better have her home for a week or two, to see you and her
+brothers and sisters, and then she can return, and consider my house her
+home always. I make no doubt that you will be glad to yield her to me
+permanently, but be good enough not to tell her how much I have said in
+her favour. I don't want the child's head turned."
+
+"It is very kind of Rachel," said Mrs. Harley, after reading this letter
+for the third or fourth time. "I must say I never expected Edith to get
+to the end of her six months, still less that she should gain so much
+approval. She was always such a wild, harem-scarem girl at home."
+
+"She only wanted looking after, my dear, and putting in a right way,"
+said the doctor, in a true masculine spirit; and Mrs. Harley answered,
+with her usual gentle little sigh:
+
+"I don't think that was quite all. Maude and Jessie, who have been
+brought up at home, have done well, you must admit. But I sometimes
+think there is more in Edith--more strength of character and real
+patience than we ever gave her credit for. You must excuse my saying so,
+but she could never have borne with your sister so long if she had not
+made a very great effort."
+
+"And now she is to go back to this tyrant of a maiden aunt," laughed the
+doctor. "But by all means let her come home first, as Rachel suggests,
+and then we shall see for ourselves, and hear how she likes the prospect
+too."
+
+That week or two at home seemed like a delightful dream to Edith. It is
+true the fields and woods had lost all their sweet summer beauty; but
+the mild late autumn, which lasted far into November that year, had a
+charm of its own; and then it was so pleasant to be back again in the
+dear old room which she had always shared with Jessie, to have the boys
+and Francie laughing and clinging about her, and to find that they had
+not forgotten her "one bit," as Johnnie said, and that to have their
+dear Edith back was the most charming thing that could possibly have
+happened to them.
+
+"You must make much of your sister while she is here," said the doctor.
+"It will not be long before you have to say 'Goodbye' again."
+
+"Oh, papa, can't she stay till Christmas?" cried a chorus of voices.
+
+"No, no, children. We must do as Aunt Rachel says, and she wants Edith
+back in a fortnight at the outside."
+
+Both father and mother, though they would not repeat Miss Harley's
+words, could not help telling their daughter how pleased they were with
+her.
+
+"You have been a real help to your father, Edith," said Mrs. Harley.
+"Now you have done so well with Aunt Rachel, we may feel that you are
+provided for, and I am sure you will be glad to think that your little
+brothers and sisters will have many things they must have gone without
+if you had had to be considered too."
+
+[Sidenote: A Trying Time]
+
+Edith felt rewarded then for all it had cost her to please her aunt and
+work quietly on at Silchester, and she went back to Ivy House with all
+her good resolutions strengthened, and her love for the dear ones at
+home stronger than ever.
+
+For a while things went on without much change. The wild, country girl
+was fast growing into a graceful accomplished young woman, when two
+events happened which caused her a great deal of thought and anxiety.
+
+First, Aunt Rachel, who had all her life enjoyed excellent health, fell
+rather seriously ill. She had a sharp attack of bronchitis, and instead
+of terminating in two or three weeks, as she confidently expected, the
+disease lingered about her, and at last settled into a chronic form, and
+made her quite an invalid.
+
+Both Edith and Stimson had a hard time while Miss Harley was at the
+worst. Unaccustomed to illness, she proved a very difficult patient, and
+kept niece and maid continually running up and downstairs, and
+ministering to her real and fancied wants.
+
+The warm, shut-up room where she now spent so many hours tried Edith
+greatly, and she longed inexpressibly sometimes for the free air of her
+dear Winchcomb fields, and the open doors and windows of the old house
+at home. Life at Silchester had always been trying to her; it became
+much more so when she had to devote herself constantly to an exacting
+invalid, who never seemed to think that young minds and eyes and hands
+needed rest and recreation--something over and above continued work and
+study.
+
+Even when she was almost too ill to listen, Aunt Rachel insisted on the
+hours of daily reading; she made Edith get through long tasks of
+household needlework, and, to use her own expression, "kept her niece to
+her duties" quite as rigidly in sickness as in health.
+
+Then, when it seemed to Edith that she really must give up, and
+petition for at least a few weeks at home, came a letter from her
+father, containing some very surprising news. A distant relative had
+died, and quite unexpectedly had left Dr. Harley a considerable legacy.
+
+"I am very glad to tell you," wrote her father, "that I shall now be
+relieved from all the pecuniary anxieties that have pressed upon me so
+heavily for the last few years. Your mother and I would now be very glad
+to have you home again, unless you feel that you are better and happier
+where you are. We owe your Aunt Rachel very many thanks for all her
+kindness, but we think she will agree that, now the chief reason for
+your absence from home is removed, your right place is with your
+brothers and sisters."
+
+To go home! How delightful it would be! That was Edith's first thought;
+but others quickly followed. What would Aunt Rachel say? Would she
+really be sorry to lose her niece, or would she perhaps feel relieved of
+a troublesome charge, and glad to be left alone with her faithful
+Stimson, as she had been before?
+
+"I must speak to my aunt about it at once," thought Edith. "And no doubt
+papa will write to her too."
+
+But when she went into the garden, where her aunt was venturing to court
+the sunshine, she found her actually in tears.
+
+"Your father has written me a most unfeeling letter," said the poor
+lady, sitting on a seat, and before Edith could utter a word. "Because
+he is better off he wants to take you away. He seems not to think in the
+least of my lonely state, or that I may have grown attached to you, but
+suggests that you should return home as soon as we can arrange it,
+without the least regard for my feelings."
+
+"Papa would never think you cared so much, Aunt Rachel. Would you really
+rather I should stay, then?"
+
+"Child, I could never go back to my old solitary life again. I did not
+mean to tell you, and perhaps I am not wise to do so now, but I will say
+it, Edith--I have grown to love you, my dear, and if you love me, you
+will not think of going away and leaving me to illness and solitude.
+Your father and mother have all their other children--I have nothing and
+no one but you. Promise that you will stay with me?"
+
+[Sidenote: "I have Grown to Love you!"]
+
+"I must think about it, aunt," said Edith, much moved by her aunt's
+words. "Oh, do not think me ungrateful, but it will be very hard for me
+to decide; and perhaps papa will not let me decide for myself."
+
+But when Edith, in her own room, came to consider all her aunt's claim,
+it really seemed that she had no right, at least if her parents would
+consent to her remaining, to abandon one who had done so much for her.
+It was, indeed, as she had said, a very difficult choice; there was the
+old, happy, tempting life at Winchcomb, the pleasant home where she
+might now return, and live with the dear brothers and sisters without
+feeling herself a burden upon her father's strained resources; and there
+was the quiet monotonous daily round at Ivy House, the exacting invalid,
+the uncongenial work, the lack of all young companionship, that already
+seemed so hard to bear.
+
+And yet, Edith thought, she really ought to stay. Wonderful as it
+seemed, Aunt Rachel had grown to love her. How could she say to the
+lonely, stricken woman, "I will go, and leave you alone"?
+
+"Well, Edith?" said Miss Harley eagerly, when her niece came in again
+after a prolonged absence.
+
+"I will stay, Aunt Rachel, if my father will let me. I feel that I
+cannot--ought not--to leave you after all that you have done for me."
+
+So it was settled, after some demur on Dr. Harley's part, and the quiet
+humdrum days went on again, and Edith found out how, as the poet says--
+
+          "Tasks, in hours of insight willed,
+           May be in hours of gloom fulfilled."
+
+For Miss Harley, after that involuntary betrayal of her feelings,
+relapsed into her own hard, irritable ways, and often made her niece's
+life a very uncomfortable one.
+
+Patiently and tenderly Edith nursed her aunt through the lingering
+illness that went on from months to years; very rarely she found time
+for a brief visit to the home where the little ones were fast growing
+taller and wiser, the home which Jessie had now exchanged for one of her
+own, and where careful Maude was still her mother's right hand.
+
+Often it seemed to the girl that her lot in life had been rather harshly
+determined, and she still found it a struggle to be patient and cheerful
+through all.
+
+And yet through this patient waiting there came to Edith the great joy
+and blessing of her life.
+
+Mr. Finch, the elderly medical man who had attended Miss Harley
+throughout her illness, grew feeble and failing in health himself. He
+engaged a partner to help him in his heavy, extensive practice, and this
+young man, Edward Hallett by name, had not been many times to Ivy House
+before he became keenly alive to the fact that Miss Harley's niece was
+not only a pretty, but a good and very charming girl. It was strange how
+soon the young doctor's visits began to make a brightness in Edith's
+rather dreary days, how soon they both grew to look forward to the two
+or three minutes together which they might hope to spend every alternate
+morning.
+
+Before very long, Edith, with the full approval of her parents and her
+aunt, became Edward Hallett's promised wife.
+
+They would have to wait a long while, for the young doctor was a poor
+man, and Dr. Harley could not, even now, afford to give his daughter a
+marriage portion.
+
+But, while they waited, Edith's long trial came to a sudden, unexpected
+end.
+
+Poor Miss Harley was found one morning, when Stimson, who had been
+sleeping more heavily than usual, arose from the bed she occupied in
+her mistress's room, lying very calmly and quietly, as though asleep,
+with her hands tightly clasped over a folded paper, which she must have
+taken, after her maid had left her for the night, from the box which
+always stood at her bedside. The sleep proved to be that last long
+slumber which knows no waking on earth, and the paper, when the dead
+fingers were gently unclasped, was found to contain the poor lady's last
+will and testament, dated a year previously, and duly signed and
+witnessed.
+
+[Sidenote: Miss Harley's Will]
+
+In it she left the Ivy House and the whole of her, property to her "dear
+niece, Edith Harley, who," said the grateful testatrix, "has borne with
+me, a lonely and difficult old woman; has lived my narrow life for my
+sake, and, as I have reason to believe, at a great sacrifice of her own
+inclinations and without a thought of gain, and who richly deserves the
+reward herein bequeathed to her."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There could be no happier home found than that of Edith Hallett and her
+husband in the Ivy House at Silchester. Nor did they forget how that
+happiness came about.
+
+[Illustration: "AS HE KISSED THEIR FIRSTBORN UNDER THE MISTLETOE."]
+
+"We owe all to your patience," said Dr. Hallett to Edith, as he kissed
+their firstborn under the mistletoe at the second Christmastide of their
+wedded life.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: A story, founded on fact, of true love, of changed lives, and
+of loving service.]
+
+The Tasmanian Sisters
+
+BY
+
+E. B. MOORE
+
+
+The evening shadows were settling down over Mount Wellington in
+Tasmania. The distant city was already bathed in the rosy after-glow.
+
+It was near one of the many lakes which abound amongst the mountains
+round Hobart that our short tale begins.
+
+It was in the middle of January--midsummer in Tasmania. It had been a
+hot day, but the heat was of a dry sort, and therefore bearable, and of
+course to those born and bred in that favoured land, it was in no way
+trying.
+
+On the verandah of a pretty wooden house of the chalet description,
+stood a lady, shading her eyes from the setting sun, a tall, graceful
+woman; but as the sun's rays fell on her hair, it revealed silver
+threads, and the sweet, rather worn face, with a few lines on the
+forehead, was that of a woman of over forty; and yet she was a woman to
+whom life's romance had only just come.
+
+She was gazing round her with a lingering, loving glance; the gaze of
+one who looks on a loved scene for the last time. On the morrow Eva
+Chadleigh, for so she was called, was leaving her childhood's home,
+where she had lived all her life, and going to cross the water to the
+old--though to her new--country.
+
+Sprinkled all down the mountain sides were fair white villas, or wooden
+chalet-like houses, with their terraces and gardens, and most of them
+surrounded by trees, of which the eucalyptus was the most common. The
+soft breezes played round her, and at her feet the little wavelets of
+the lake rippled in a soft cadence. Sounds of happy voices came wafted
+out on the evening air, intermingled with music and the tones of a rich
+tenor voice.
+
+That voice, or rather the owner of it, had made a havoc in that quiet
+home. Till its owner had appeared on the scene, Eva and her sister had
+lived quietly together, never dreaming of change. They had been born,
+and had lived all their lives in the peaceful chalet, seeing no one,
+going nowhere.
+
+[Sidenote: A Belated Traveller]
+
+One night, about a year previously, a belated traveller knocked at the
+door, was given admittance, and, in return for the hospitality shown
+him, had the audacity to fall in love with Blanche Chadleigh, Eva's twin
+sister. Then, indeed, a change came into Eva's life. Hitherto the two
+sisters had sufficed to each other; now she had to take a secondary
+position.
+
+The intruder proved to be a wealthy settler, a Mr. Wells, a man of good
+family, though alone in the world. In due course the two were married,
+but Blanche was loath to leave her childhood's home. So it resulted in
+their remaining there while his own pretty villa, a little higher up the
+mountain, was being built.
+
+And now Eva too had found her fate. A church "synod" had been held;
+clergymen of all denominations and from all parts of the earth being
+present. The sisters had been asked to accommodate one or two clergymen;
+one of these was an old Scotch minister with snowy locks, and keen dark
+eyes.
+
+How it came about Eva Chadleigh never knew; she often said he never
+formally proposed to her, but somehow, without a word on either side,
+it came to be understood that she should marry him.
+
+"Now you're just coming home with me, lassie," said the old man to the
+woman of forty-five, who appeared to him as a girl. "I'll make ye as
+happy as a queen; see here, child, two is company, and three is
+trumpery, as the saying goes. It isn't that your sister loves ye less,"
+seeing a pained look cross her face, "but she has her husband, don't ye
+see?" And Eva did see. She fell in love, was drawn irresistibly to her
+old minister, and it is his voice, with its pleasant Scotch accent, that
+is now rousing her from her reverie at the time our tale begins.
+
+"Come away--come away, child. The night dews are falling; they're all
+wearying for ye indoors; come now, no more looking around ye, or I'll
+never get ye away to-morrow."
+
+"But you promise to bring me back some day, Mr. Cameron, before very
+long."
+
+"Ay, ay, we'll come back sure enough, don't fret yourself; but first ye
+must see the old country, and learn to know my friends."
+
+Amongst their neighbours at this time was a young man, apparently about
+thirty years old; he had travelled to Hobart in the same ship as Mr.
+Cameron, for whom he had conceived a warm feeling of friendship. Captain
+Wylie had lately come in for some property in Tasmania, and as he was on
+furlough and had nothing to keep him at home, he had come out to see his
+belongings, and since his arrival at Hobart had been a frequent visitor
+at the chalet.
+
+Though a settled melancholy seemed to rest upon him, his history
+explained it, for Captain Wylie was married, and yet it was years since
+he had seen his wife. They had both met at a ball at Gibraltar many
+years ago. She had been governess in an officer's family on the "Rock"
+while his regiment had been stationed there. She was nineteen, very
+pretty, and alone in the world. They had married after five or six
+weeks' acquaintance, and parted by mutual consent after as many months.
+She had been self-willed and extravagant, he had nothing but his pay at
+that time, and she nearly ruined him.
+
+[Sidenote: Captain Wylie]
+
+It ended in recriminations. He had a violent temper, and she was proud
+and sarcastic. They had parted in deep anger and resentment, she to
+return to her governessing, for she was too proud to accept anything
+from him, he to remove to another regiment and go to India.
+
+At first he had tried to forget all this short interlude of love and
+happiness, and flung himself into a gay, wild life: but it would not do.
+He had deeply loved her with the first strong, untried love of a young
+impetuous man, and her image was always coming before him. An intense
+hunger to see her again had swept away every feeling of resentment.
+Lately he had heard of her as governess to a family in Gibraltar, and a
+great longing had come over him just to see her once more, and to find
+out if she still cared for him.
+
+He and Mr. Cameron had travelled out together on a sailing ship, and
+during the voyage he had been led to confide in the kindly, simple old
+gentleman; but so sacred did the latter consider his confidence that
+even to his affianced bride he had never recalled it.
+
+All these thoughts crowded into the young officer's mind as he paced up
+and down in the stillness of the night, disinclined to turn in. He was
+startled from his reverie by a voice beside him.
+
+"So you have really decided to come with us to-morrow?" It was Mr.
+Cameron who spoke. "Ye know, lad, the steamer is not one of the fine new
+liners. I doubt she's rather antiquated, and as I told ye yesterday, she
+is a sort of ambulance ship, as one may say. She is bringing home a good
+many invalided officials and officers left at the hospital here by other
+ships. It seems a queer place to spend our honeymoon in, and I offered
+my bride to wait for the next steamer, which won't be for another
+fortnight or three weeks, and what do you think she said? 'Let us go;
+we may be of use to those poor things!' That's the sort she is."
+
+"She looks like that," said Captain Wylie, heartily. "I should like to
+go with you," continued the young man. "Since I have decided on the step
+I told you of, I cannot remain away a day longer. I saw the mate of the
+_Minerva_ yesterday, and secured my cabin. He says they have more
+invalids than they know what to do with. I believe there are no nurses,
+only one stewardess and some cabin boys to wait on us all."
+
+The night grew chill, and after a little more talk the older gentleman
+went in, but the younger one continued pacing up and down near the lake,
+till the rosy dawn had begun to light up the summits.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was in the month of February, a beautiful bright morning; brilliant
+sunshine flooded the Rock of Gibraltar, and made the sea of a dazzling
+blueness, whilst overhead the sky was unclouded.
+
+A young lady who stood in a little terraced garden in front of a house
+perched on the side of the "Rock" was gazing out on the expanse of sea
+which lay before her, and seemed for the moment oblivious of two
+children who were playing near her, and just then loudly claiming her
+attention. She was their governess, and had the charge of them while
+their parents were in India.
+
+The house they lived in was the property of Mr. Somerset, who was a
+Gibraltarian by birth, and it was the children's home at present. Being
+delicate, the climate of Gibraltar was thought better for them than the
+mists of England. Major and Mrs. Somerset were shortly expected home for
+a time on furlough, and there was great excitement at this prospect.
+
+"Nory, Nory, you don't hear what I am saying! When will mamma come? You
+always say 'soon,' but what does 'soon' mean? Nory, you don't hear me,"
+and the governess's dress was pulled.
+
+This roused her from her reverie, and like one waking from a dream she
+turned round. "What did you say, dear? Oh, yes, about your mother. Well,
+I am expecting a letter every mail. I should think she might arrive
+almost any time; they were to arrive in Malta last Monday, and now it is
+Wednesday. And that reminds me, children, run and get on your things, we
+have just time for a walk before your French mistress comes."
+
+[Sidenote: At Gibraltar]
+
+"Oh, do let us go to the market, Nory, it is so long since we went
+there. It is so stupid always going up the 'Rock,' and you are always
+looking out to sea, and don't hear us when we talk to you. I know you
+don't, for when I told you that lovely story about the Brownies, the
+other day, you just said 'yes' and 'no' in the wrong places, and I knew
+you were not attending," said sharp little Ethel, who was not easily put
+off.
+
+"Oh, Nory, see the monkeys," cried the little boy, "they are down near
+the sentry box, and one of them is carrying off a piece of bread."
+
+"They are very tame, aren't they, Nory?" asked Ethel. "The soldiers
+leave bread out for them on purpose, Maria says."
+
+"Yes, but you know I don't care for them, Ethel. They gave me such a
+fright last year they came down to pay a visit, and I discovered one in
+the bathroom. But run to Maria, and ask her to get you ready quickly,
+and I will take you to the market."
+
+In great glee the happy little children quickly donned their things, and
+were soon walking beside their governess towards the gay scene of
+bargaining and traffic.
+
+Here Moors are sitting cross-legged, with their piles of bright yellow
+and red slippers turned up at the toe, and calling out in loud harsh
+voices, "babouchas, babouchas," while the wealthier of them, dressed in
+their rich Oriental dress, are selling brass trays and ornaments.
+
+The scene is full of gaiety and life, and it is with difficulty that the
+young governess drags the children away. But now fresh delights begin:
+they are in the narrow streets where all the Moorish shops with their
+tempting array of goods attract the childish eye--sweets of all sorts,
+cocoanut, egg sweets, almond sweets, pine-nut sweets, and the lovely
+pink and golden "Turkish delight," dear to every child's heart.
+
+"Oh, Nory!" in pleading tones, and "Nory" knows that piteous appeal
+well, and is weak-minded enough to buy some of the transparent
+amber-like substance, which is at all events very wholesome. The sun was
+so powerful that it was quite pleasant on their return to sit in the
+little terraced garden and take their lunch before lesson-time, and
+while their governess sipped her tea, the children drank their goat's
+milk, and ate bread and quince jelly.
+
+The warm February sun shone down on her, but she heeded it not; a
+passage in Mrs. Somerset's letter, which had just been handed to her,
+haunted her, and she read again and again: she could get no farther. "I
+believe it is very likely we shall take the next ship that touches here,
+it is the _Minerva_ from Tasmania. They say it is a hospital ship, but I
+cannot wait for another, I hunger so for a sight of the children."
+
+The young governess was none other than Norah Wylie. She had never
+ceased following her husband's movements with the greatest, most painful
+interest. She knew he had lately gone to Tasmania; suppose he should
+return in that very ship? More unlikely things had happened. She was at
+times very weary of her continual monotonous round, though she had been
+fortunate enough to have got a very exceptional engagement, and had been
+with Mrs. Somerset's children almost ever since she and her husband had
+parted.
+
+As Norah sat and knitted, looking out to sea and wondering where her
+husband was, he, at the very moment, was pacing up and down the deck of
+the _Minerva_. They had so far had a prosperous journey, fair winds, and
+a calm sea. Some of the invalids were improving, and even able to come
+to table, for sea air is a wonderful life-giver. But there were others
+who would never see England. It was a day of intense heat in the Red
+Sea, and even at that early season of the year there was not a breath of
+air.
+
+Amongst those who had been carried up out of the stifling cabin was one
+whose appearance arrested Captain Wylie's attention, as he took his
+constitutional in the lightest of light flannels. He could not but be
+struck by the appearance of the young man. He had never seen him before,
+but he looked so fragile that the young officer's kind heart went out to
+him. He was lying in an uncomfortable position, his head all twisted and
+half off the limp cabin pillow.
+
+Something in the young face, so pathetic in its youth, with the ravages
+of disease visible in the hectic cheek, and harsh, rasping cough,
+touched the strong young officer. He stooped down and put his hand on
+the young lad's forehead; it was cold and clammy. Was he dying?
+
+Mrs. Cameron had come over and was standing beside him. She ran down and
+brought up the doctor, explaining the young man's state.
+
+[Sidenote: The Doctor's Verdict]
+
+"He will pass away in one of these fainting fits," said the tired man as
+he followed her. He was kind in his way, but overwhelmed with work.
+"This may revive him for the time being," he went on as they ascended
+the cabin stairs, "but he cannot live long. I do feel for that young
+fellow, he is so patient. You never hear a word of complaint."
+
+By this time they had reached the sick man. "Here, my good fellow, try
+and take this," said the doctor, as Eva Cameron gently raised the young
+head on her arm. The large dark eyes were gratefully raised to the
+doctor's face, and a slight tinge of colour came to the pale lips.
+
+[Illustration: "NOW I AM GOING TO FAN YOU," SHE SAID.]
+
+"Now I am going to fan you," said Mrs. Cameron, as she sat beside him.
+Now and then she sprinkled lavender water on his head and hands.
+
+"Thank you," he said; "how nice that is! Would you sing to me? I heard
+you singing the other day."
+
+Eva softly sang a Tasmanian air which was wild and sweet.
+
+"Will you do me a favour?" asked the young man. "Please sing me one of
+the dear old psalms. I am Scotch, and at times yearn for them, you would
+hardly believe how much."
+
+She sang:
+
+          "God is our refuge and our strength,
+                 In straits a present aid:
+           Therefore, although the earth remove,
+                 We will not be afraid."
+
+As she sang tears rolled down the wan cheek, but a look of perfect peace
+came over the pale face. She went on:
+
+          "A river is, whose streams do glad
+                  The city of our God,
+           The holy place, wherein the Lord
+                  Most High hath His abode."
+
+He was asleep, the wan young cheek leaning on his hand in a child-like
+attitude of repose. Eva sat and watched him, her heart full of pity. She
+did not move, but sat fanning him. Soon Mr. Cameron and Captain Wylie
+joined her; as they approached she put her finger on her lips to inspire
+silence.
+
+She had no idea what the words of the dear old psalm had been to the
+young Highlander--like water to a parched soul, bringing back memories
+of childhood, wooded glens, heather-clad hills, rippling burns, and
+above all the old grey kirk where the Scotch laddie used to sit beside
+his mother--that dear mother in whom his whole soul was wrapped up--and
+join lustily in the psalms.
+
+The dinner-bell rang unheeded--somehow not one of the three could leave
+him.
+
+"How lovely!" he said at last, opening and fixing his eyes on Eva. "I
+think God sent you to me."
+
+"Ay, laddie," said the old Scotchman, taking the wasted hand in his,
+"but it seems to me you know the One who 'sticketh closer than a
+brother'? I see the 'peace of God' in your face."
+
+"Ah, you are from my part of the country," said the lad joyfully, trying
+to raise himself, but sinking back exhausted. "I know it in your voice,
+it's just music to me. How good God has been to me!"
+
+They were all too much touched by his words to answer him, and Eva could
+only bend over him and smooth his brow.
+
+"Now mother will have some one to tell her about me," he added, turning
+to Mrs. Cameron, and grasping her hand. Then, as strength came back in
+some measure to the wasted frame, he went on in broken sentences to tell
+how he had been clerk in a big mercantile house in Hobart, how he had
+been invalided and lying in the hospital there for weeks. "But I have
+saved money," he added joyfully, "she need not feel herself a burden on
+my sister any more; my sister is married to a poor Scotch minister, and
+she lives with them, or was to, till I came home. Now that will never
+be. Oh, if I could just have seen her!"
+
+"But you will see her again, laddie," said the old man. "Remember our
+own dear poet Bonar's words:
+
+          "Where the child shall find his mother,
+            Where the mother finds the child,
+           Where dear families shall gather
+            That were scattered o'er the wild;
+               Brother, we shall meet and rest
+              'Mid the holy and the blest."
+
+"Thank you," said the dying lad. "I think I could sleep." His eyes were
+closing, when a harsh loud voice with a foreign accent was heard near.
+
+[Sidenote: "I say I will!"]
+
+"I say I will, and who shall hinder me?"
+
+"Hush, there is a dying man here!" It was the doctor who spoke. A
+sick-looking, but violent man, who had been reclining in a deck chair
+not far off, was having a tussle with a doctor, and another man who
+seemed his valet.
+
+"Indeed you should come down, sir," the man was saying, "there is quite
+a dew falling."
+
+"You want to make out that I am dying, I suppose, but I have plenty of
+strength, I can tell you, and will be ordered by no one!"
+
+"Well, then, you will hasten your end, I tell you so plainly," said the
+doctor sternly.
+
+The man's face altered as he spoke, a kind of fear came over him, as he
+rose to follow the doctor without a word. As he passed near the young
+Highlander, he glanced at him and shuddered, "He's young to die, and
+have done with everything."
+
+"He would tell you he is just going to begin with everything," said Mr.
+Cameron, who had heard the words, and came forward just then. "Doctor, I
+suppose we need not move him," he added, glancing at the dying lad, "you
+see he is going fast."
+
+"No, nothing can harm him now, poor young fellow. I will go and speak to
+the captain--will you help Mr. Grossman to his cabin?"
+
+As they reached the state-room door, Mr. Cameron said, "Friend, when
+your time comes, may you too know the peace that is filling the heart of
+yon lad."
+
+"He is believing in a lie, I fear," said the other.
+
+"And yet, when you were in pain the other day, I heard you call loudly,
+'God help me!'"
+
+"Oh, well, I suppose it is a kind of instinct--a habit one gets into,
+like any other exclamation."
+
+"I think not," said the old man. "I believe that in your inmost, soul is
+a conviction that there is a God. Don't you remember hearing that
+Voltaire, with almost his last breath, said, 'Et pourtant, il y a un
+Dieu!'"
+
+Returning on deck, Mr. Cameron took his watch beside the young
+Highlander. There was no return of consciousness, and very soon the
+happy spirit freed itself from its earthly tenement without a struggle.
+
+Next morning they consigned all that was mortal of him to the deep, in
+sure and certain hope that he shall rise again. God knows where to find
+His own, whether in the quiet leafy "God's acre," or in the depths of
+the sea.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The year was advancing. It was towards the end of February. At Gibraltar
+great excitement prevailed in the house perched on the side of the
+"Rock." Major Somerset and his wife were expected! Norah paused suddenly
+to look out over the blue expanse of sea, to-day ruffled with a slight
+breeze--and then exclaimed:
+
+"Children! children! come, a steamer with the British flag is coming in!
+Hurry and get on your things."
+
+There was no need for urging them to haste--the outdoor wrappings were
+on in no time, and they ran down to the landing-stage just as the ship
+had cast anchor. Numerous boats were already making their way out to
+her. They soon learnt that the ship was from Malta, though she was not
+the _Minerva_ they had expected.
+
+How Norah's heart beat as she eagerly, breathlessly, watched the
+passengers descend the ladder and take their places in the different
+boats. A keen breeze had got up, and even in the harbour there were
+waves already.
+
+[Sidenote: "There is Mamma!"]
+
+"There is mamma!" exclaimed little Ethel--"see her, Nory, in the white
+hat! Oh, my pretty mamma!" she exclaimed, dancing with glee as the boat
+came nearer and nearer.
+
+Then came exclamations, hugs and kisses, intermingled with the quick
+vivacious chattering of the boatmen bargaining over their fares. A
+perfect Babel of sound! Several passengers were landing--so a harvest
+was being reaped by these small craft.
+
+The children clung to their parents, and Norah followed behind, feeling
+a little lonely, and out of it all--would there ever come a time of joy
+for her--a time when she too would be welcoming a dear one?--or should
+she just have to go on living the life of an outsider in other people's
+lives--having no joys or sorrows of her own, she who might have been so
+blessed and so happy? How long those five years had seemed, a lifetime
+in themselves, since she had last heard her husband's voice! Well, he
+had not come, that was clear.
+
+That evening as Norah was preparing to go to bed, a knock came to her
+door, and Mrs. Somerset came in.
+
+"I thought I might come in, Norah dear; I wanted to tell you how pleased
+my husband and I are with the improvement in the children, they look so
+well, and are so much more obedient. You have managed them very well,
+and we are very grateful," and Mrs. Somerset bent forward and kissed
+her. "Now, dear, we want you to accept a small present from us--it is
+very commonplace--but there is little variety where we are stationed."
+
+Norah undid the cedar box put into her hand and drew out a most lovely
+gold bracelet of Indian workmanship.
+
+"Oh, how very good of you, it is far too pretty!" she exclaimed,
+returning Mrs. Somerset's embrace. "But, indeed, I have only done my
+duty by the children: they are very good, and I love them dearly."
+
+"Well, dear, I hope you will long remain with them--and yet--I cannot
+wish it for your sake, for I wish a greater happiness for you. You
+remember when you first came to me, telling me your history, Norah, and
+begging me never to refer to it? Well, I have never done so, but
+to-night I must break my promise, as I think I ought to tell you that I
+have actually met Captain Wylie, though he did not know who I was."
+
+Norah's colour came and went; she said nothing, only fixed her eyes on
+Mrs. Somerset in speechless attention, while a tremor ran through her
+being.
+
+"Now, dear, listen to me; I believe you will see him in Gibraltar very
+soon. You know we were to have come here in the _Minerva_, which is
+actually in port in Malta now, but as she is detained there for some
+slight repairs, we did not wait for her. I went on board the _Minerva_
+with my husband, who had business with the captain--and there he was.
+The captain introduced us. When he heard I was a native of the 'Rock,'
+he became quite eager, and asked me many questions about the different
+families living there, and told me he intended staying a few days here
+on his way to England. He was standing looking so sad when we came on
+board, looking out to sea, and he brightened up so when he spoke of
+Gibraltar. But, dear child, don't cry, you should rejoice."
+
+For Norah had broken down and was weeping bitterly, uncontrollably. She
+could not speak, she only raised Mrs. Somerset's hand to her lips. The
+latter saw she was best alone, and was wise enough to leave her.
+
+"Oh Edgar! Edgar!" was the cry of her heart. "Shall I ever really see
+you? Can you forgive me?"
+
+Just about the same time as Norah Wylie was weeping in her room, her
+heart torn asunder with hopes and fears, her husband was again pacing
+the deck of the _Minerva_. They had sailed from Malta the previous day,
+but owing to fogs, which had checked their progress, were hardly out of
+sight of land.
+
+Captain Wylie's thoughts as he passed up and down were evidently of a
+serious nature. For the first time in his life he had began to think
+seriously of religious things. Ever since the death of the young
+Highlander, Kenneth McGregor, he had had deep heart-searchings. Besides,
+another event had occurred that had cast a shadow over the whole ship,
+so sudden and so awful had it been.
+
+[Sidenote: "In Spite of the Doctor"]
+
+Mr. Grossman had made a wonderful recovery. Contrary to all
+explanations, he was apparently almost well. It was his constant boast
+that he had recovered "in spite of the doctor."
+
+One evening dinner was going on, and Herr Grossman, who was still on
+diet, and did not take all the courses, got up and declared that he
+would go on deck. It was misty and raining a little. He sent for his
+great coat and umbrella, and as his valet helped him on with his coat,
+the doctor called out to him:
+
+"Don't stay up long in the damp."
+
+"Oh, I'll be down directly," he had answered. "I've no wish to lay
+myself up again."
+
+The company at table fell into talk, and it was some time before they
+dispersed.
+
+"It is time Mr. Grossman was down," said the doctor; "did you see him,
+steward?"
+
+"I saw him near an hour ago, sir, he stopped on his way up to light his
+cigar at the tinder lamp on the stairs."
+
+The doctor went up, but no Herr Grossman was to be seen. He and others
+hunted all over the ship. At last a sort of panic prevailed. Where was
+he? What had happened? The ship was stopped and boats lowered. Captain
+Wylie was one of those who volunteered to go with the search party.
+Clouds of mist hung over the sea, and although lanterns were held aloft,
+nothing was visible.
+
+The search was in vain. No one ever knew precisely what had happened,
+nor would know. Whether a sudden giddiness seized him, or whether he
+leaned too far forward, misled by the fog which makes things look so
+different; certain it is that he had disappeared--not even his umbrella
+was found.
+
+No one slept that night; a great awe had settled down over the whole
+ship.
+
+The next day a furious gale sprang up. Captain Wylie, who was an old
+sailor, crawled up on deck; he was used to roughing it, and the waves
+dashing over him as they swept the deck had an invigorating effect.
+
+"We ought to be in this afternoon," shouted the captain, as he passed,
+"but the propeller has come to grief; you see we are not moving, and
+hard enough it will be to fix the other in in such weather," and he
+looked anxiously around. The wind almost blew his words away.
+
+Captain Wylie then perceived that they were in the trough of the sea,
+helplessly tossed about, while the waves were mounting high, and any
+moment the engine fires might be extinguished. Should that happen,
+indeed they would be in a bad strait.
+
+With difficulty he made his way to where the men were vainly trying to
+fix the monster screw. Each time they thought they had it in place, the
+heavy sea shifted it, and the men were knocked down in their attempts.
+Captain Wylie willingly gave a hand, and after a long time, so it seemed
+to the weary men, the screw was in its place, and doing its work.
+
+The brave ship battled on. Already in the far distance the great "Rock"
+was visible, and the young soldier's heart turned passionately to her
+whom he loved.
+
+And now a fresh disaster had arisen; the steam steering-gear had come to
+grief, and the old, long-neglected wheel had to be brought into use. It
+had not been used for years, and though constantly cleaned and kept in
+order, the salt water had been washing over it now for hours, and it was
+very hard to turn. The question now was, should they remain in the open
+sea, or venture into the harbour?
+
+A discussion on the subject was taking place between the captain and the
+first mate. The steering-gear did not seem to do its work properly, and
+the captain anxiously kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, as they were
+drawn irresistibly nearer and nearer to the harbour. "It is the
+men-of-war I dread coming near," the captain was saying to his mates;
+"those deadly rams are a terror in this weather."
+
+[Sidenote: A Critical Moment]
+
+It was a critical moment. Darkness was coming down, the rain became more
+violent, the wind cold and cutting, with now and then fierce showers of
+hail.
+
+On, on they were being driven; nothing could keep them back. The captain
+shouted orders, the men did their best, but the wheel did not work
+properly. Captain Wylie as he stood near, holding on while the waves
+dashed over him, saw the lights twinkling in the town, and felt that the
+cup of happiness so near might now at any moment be dashed from his
+lips.
+
+The danger was clear to all, nearer and nearer they drew. "Out with the
+life-belts!" shouted the captain; "lower the boats!"
+
+There was no time to be lost, faster and faster they were being driven
+into the harbour.
+
+Captain Wylie rushed downstairs; and here confusion and terror reigned,
+for bad news travels fast, and a panic had seized the poor fellows who
+were still weak from recent illness. They were dragging themselves out
+of their berths.
+
+"Get her ready, here are two belts," he cried, and, throwing them to Mr.
+Cameron, he hurried to the assistance of the invalids. All were soon
+provided with belts. A wonderful calm succeeded to the confusion, and
+great self-control was exercised.
+
+"Courage!" cried the young soldier; "remember we are close to shore. If
+you can keep your heads above water you will speedily be rescued." The
+one frail woman was as calm as any.
+
+It came at last! A crash, a gurgling sound of rushing water, a ripping,
+rasping noise.
+
+"Up on deck," shouted Captain Wylie, as seizing the one helpless invalid
+in his arms, he hastened on deck. An awful scene met the eye. What the
+ship's captain feared had indeed come true!
+
+The boats were soon freighted and pushed off.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+While this terrible scene was taking place, anxious eyes were taking it
+all in from the shore.
+
+Early that day the _Minerva_ had been signalled, and Norah with her
+heart in her mouth had watched almost all day from the veranda, scanning
+the sea with a pair of binoculars. Mrs. Somerset kept the children
+entirely, knowing well what her poor young governess was going through.
+
+[Sidenote: A Weary Night]
+
+The storm had raged fiercely all day, but as night came on it grew
+worse. Norah could remain no longer in the house, and had gone down to
+the quay. As she reached it she saw a large ship driving furiously
+forward to its doom. There she stood as though turned to stone, and was
+not aware of a voice speaking in her ear, and a hand drawing her away.
+
+"This is no place for you, Mrs. Wylie; my wife sent me for you. You can
+do no good here; you will learn what there is to learn quicker at
+home--one can't believe a word they say."
+
+Her agony was too great for words or tears. She had gone through so much
+all those years, and now happiness had seemed so near, she had believed
+it might even yet be in store for her since Mrs. Somerset had spoken to
+her on the subject, and now? . . . She let herself be led into the house,
+and when Mrs. Somerset ran to meet her and clasp her in her arms, it was
+as if she grasped a statue, so cold and lifeless was Norah.
+
+"She is stunned," the major said; "she is exhausted."
+
+Mechanically she let herself be covered up and put on the sofa, her feet
+chafed by kind hands--it gave a vague sense of comfort, though all the
+time she felt as if it were being done to some one else.
+
+And yet had Norah only known, grief would have been turned into
+thanksgiving. Her husband was not dead.
+
+The weary night came to an end at last, as such nights do. Several times
+Mrs. Somerset had crept in. They had been unable to gather any reliable
+news about the _Minerva's_ passengers. The ship had gone down, but
+whether the people had been saved they had been unable as yet to
+ascertain.
+
+A glorious sunrise succeeded a night of storm and terror, and its
+crimson beams came in on Norah. Hastily rising, and throwing on her hat
+and jacket she ran out into the morning freshness longing to feel the
+cool air.
+
+She only wanted to get away from herself.
+
+She climbed the steep ascent up the "Rock," past the governor's house,
+then stood and gazed at this wonderful scene.
+
+And she stood thus, wrapped up in sad thoughts and anticipations of
+evil, a great, great joy lay very near her.
+
+Edgar Wylie had thrown himself into the sea, and lost consciousness from
+the effects of a blow. Several boats had braved the furious sea, and
+come out to save the unfortunate people if possible.
+
+Thus it was that he was picked up, as well as a young fellow he had
+risked his life to save.
+
+When he came to himself, he found he had been brought to the nearest
+hotel, and a doctor was in attendance. There was, however, nothing
+really the matter with him. He had, it is true, been stunned by the
+sharp spar that had come in contact with his head, but no real injury
+had been done.
+
+A good night's rest had restored him to himself. He woke early the
+following morning, and rising went out to breathe the fresh pure air.
+
+Thus it came to pass that the husband and wife were passing each other
+in their morning walk, and they did not know it.
+
+And yet, as his tall figure passed her, a thrill of memory went through
+her, a something in the walk reminded her of her husband.
+
+Both had arrived at the supreme crisis of their lives, and yet they
+might never have met, but for a small incident, and a rather funny one.
+
+Norah had taken off her hat and had laid it carelessly beside her on the
+low wall on which she was leaning, when she became aware of some one
+taking possession of it, and looking round she saw the impudent face of
+a monkey disappearing with it up the steep side of the "Rock."
+
+She had no energy to recover it, and was standing helplessly watching
+his movements when she saw the stranger who had passed her set off in
+pursuit of the truant.
+
+She soon lost sight of him, and had again sunk into a reverie when a
+voice said: "Here is your hat; I have rescued it. I think it is none the
+worse for this adventure."
+
+Oh, that voice! Norah's heart stood still, she was stunned and could not
+believe that she heard aright. Was she dreaming? "The rascal was caught
+by one of the sentries, evidently he is quite at home with them, and the
+soldier on duty coaxed it from him."
+
+Then Norah turned, there was no longer room for doubt, her eyes were
+riveted on the grey ones fixed on her.
+
+[Sidenote: "You are not Dead!"]
+
+"Then you are not dead," was the thought that flashed through her mind.
+Her tongue was dry and parched; her heart, which had seemed to stop,
+bounded forward, as though it must burst its bonds.
+
+"Oh, Edgar!" she cried, losing all self-command; "oh, if it is you,
+forgive me, don't leave me. Don't let me wake and find it a dream!"
+
+A strange whizzing and whirling came over her, and then she felt herself
+held securely by a strong arm and a face was bent to hers. When she
+recovered herself somewhat, she found that she was seated on a bank,
+supported by her husband.
+
+It was his voice that said in the old fond tones: "Oh, Norah, my Norah,
+we are together again, never, never more to part. Forgive me, darling,
+for all I have made you suffer in the past."
+
+"Forgive you! Oh, Edgar! Will you forgive me?"
+
+The sun rose higher, and sounds of everyday life filled the air, drawing
+those two into the practical everyday world, out of the sunny paradise
+in which they had been basking while Norah sat leaning against that
+strong true heart that all these years had beat only for her.
+
+
+
+
+[Sidenote: The story of a simple Irish girl, a sorrow, and a
+disillusion.]
+
+The Queen of Connemara
+
+BY
+
+FLORENCE MOON
+
+
+The mountains of Connemara stretched bare and desolate beneath the
+November sky.
+
+Down the bleak mountain side, with his broad-leaved _caubeen_ (peasant's
+hat) pulled well over his face, tramped a tall young countryman, clad in
+a stout frieze coat. His was an honest face, with broad, square brow,
+eyes of speedwell-blue that looked steadfast and fearless, and a mouth
+and chin expressive both of strength and sweetness.
+
+Dermot O'Malley was the only son of Patrick and Honor O'Malley, who
+dwelt in a little white-washed farmhouse near the foot of the mountain.
+His father tilled a few acres of land--poor stony ground, out of which
+he contrived to keep his family and to save a little besides.
+
+The little patch surrounding the farmhouse was, in its proper season,
+gay with oats and barley, while potatoes and cabbage, the staple food of
+the peasant, flourished in plenty. With such a desirable home, such a
+"likeable" face, and steady, upright character, it was no wonder that
+Dermot O'Malley was the object of much admiration among the people of
+the mountains, and several scheming parents had offered their daughters
+and their "fortunes" to him through the medium of his father, according
+to the custom of the country.
+
+But Dermot resisted all their overtures; his heart, and all the honest
+true love that filled it to overflowing, was given to Eily Joyce, the
+carrier's daughter; for her he would have laid down his strong young
+life.
+
+It was Eily's duty during the summer to take a daily supply of fresh
+eggs from her own hens to the proprietor of the hotel, and every morning
+she presented herself at the door, a bewitching little figure, her
+basket slung on her arm.
+
+Coyly she glanced from beneath her black silky lashes at the little
+group of men who, cigar in hand, loitered about the hotel steps,
+chatting on the chances of sport or the prospects of the weather.
+
+[Sidenote: The Artist's Model]
+
+Beauty like hers could not fail to attract the attention of the artists
+present, and as day after day went by, flattering remarks and
+undisguised admiration did not fail to strike home; attentions from the
+"gentry" were grateful to one who was a born coquette, and Eily's visits
+were gradually prolonged.
+
+Then one of the artists sought to paint her; he was a young fellow,
+rising in his profession, and in quest of a subject for his next Academy
+picture. In Eily he found what he sought, and there, among her own wild
+mountains, he painted her.
+
+Day after day, week after week, Eily stole from her father's little
+cabin to meet the stranger, a downward glance in her dark eyes, a blush
+on her cheek. The handsome face of the artist, his languid manner, his
+admiration of her beauty, his talk about the great world that lay beyond
+those mountains, fascinated and bewildered poor simple Eily, who told
+him in her trusting innocence all the thoughts of her young heart.
+
+So the summer passed by, till at last the picture was completed, and
+Eily heard, with white face and tearful eye, that the painter was going
+away.
+
+Time had passed, and the little world among the mountains went on its
+quiet way, but the summer had left its impress on Eily's heart. No more
+was her laugh the merriest, or her foot the fleetest; she joined neither
+wake nor dance, but her eye wore a far-away, thoughtful look, and her
+manner was cold and somewhat scornful; she looked with contempt on her
+old comrades, and began to pine for a peep at the great world, where she
+would see _him_, and he would welcome her, his beautiful "Queen of
+Connemara," as he had called her.
+
+As though her unspoken words were heard, an opportunity to gratify her
+wishes soon occurred. Her mother's sister, who had married young and
+gone with her husband to England, returned to visit her old home; she
+was a middle-aged, hard-faced woman, with a shrewd eye and cruel heart;
+she had worked hard, and made a little money by keeping a lodging-house
+in the east of London.
+
+London! Eily's heart leapt as she heard the word. Was not that the great
+city _he_ had spoken of, where she would be worshipped for her lovely
+face, and where great lords and ladies would bow down before her beauty?
+
+Shyly, but with determination, she expressed her desire to go there with
+her aunt. Well-pleased, Mrs. Murphy consented to take her, inwardly
+gloating over her good luck, for she saw that Eily was neat and handy,
+and had the "makings" of a good servant. It would enable her to save the
+wages of her present drudge, and a girl who had no friends near to
+"mither" her could be made to perform wonders in the way of work.
+
+So a day was fixed for their departure, and Eily's eyes regained their
+old sparkle, her spirits their wonted elasticity.
+
+Without a regret or fear she was leaving the little cabin in which she
+was born, her whole heart full of rapture that she was going to see
+_him_, and of the joy he would experience at the sight of her. Small
+wonder, then, was it that Dermot sighed as he walked homeward that bleak
+November day, for his heart was well-nigh broken at the thought of
+parting from the girl he loved.
+
+As he rounded the shoulder of the mountain the clouds parted, and a
+shaft of bright sunlight lit up his path. Dermot looked eagerly before
+him. There was Eily standing outside the cabin door, bare-footed,
+bare-headed. Cocks and hens strutted in and out of the thatched cottage,
+a pig was sniffing at a heap of cabbage-leaves that lay on the ground,
+and a black, three-legged pot, the chief culinary utensil in a peasant's
+cot, stood just outside the doorway. Eily was busy knitting, and
+pretended not to see the tall form of her lover until he drew near, then
+she looked up suddenly and smiled.
+
+"Is it knitting y'are, Eily? Shure it's the lucky fellow he'll be
+that'll wear the socks those fairy hands have made!"
+
+"Is it flattherin' me y'are, Dermot? because if so ye may go away!
+Shure, 'tis all the blarney the bhoys does be givin' me is dhrivin' me
+away from me home. Maybe ye'll get sinse whin I lave ye all, as I will
+to-morrow!"
+
+[Sidenote: "Will ye Stay?"]
+
+"Oh, Eily, jewil, don't say that! don't!" he pleaded, his blue eyes
+looking earnestly into hers. "Whin ye go, you will take all the sunshine
+out of me poor heart; it's to Ameriky I will go, for nothin' will be the
+same to me without you, mavourneen! Eily, Eily, will ye stay?"
+
+But Eily was firm.
+
+"Faith, thin, I will not, Dermot! I'm weary of my life here; I want to
+see London and the world. Shure, I'll come back some day with gold of me
+own, a rale lady, for all the world like the gintry at the castle
+below."
+
+He took her hands for a moment and wrung them in his, then, with a look
+of dumb agony in his blue eyes, turned his back upon her and continued
+his way down the mountain side.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+London! was this indeed London, the goal of all her hopes, the place
+where _he_ lived, and moved, and had his being?
+
+[Illustration: EILY STOOD A FORLORN DESOLATE FIGURE ON EUSTON PLATFORM.]
+
+Eily stood, a forlorn, desolate figure, among the crowds that jostled
+each other carelessly on Euston platform. The pretty face that peeped
+from the folds of a thick woollen shawl looked tired after the long
+journey, and her feet--oh, how they ached! for they were unaccustomed to
+the pressure of the heavy, clumsy boots in which they were now encased.
+
+What a crowd of people, and how "quare" the talk sounded! How grandly
+they were all dressed! not one with a red petticoat like the new one she
+had been so proud of only yesterday morning; she glanced at it now with
+contempt, deciding to discard it before she had been another day in
+London.
+
+There was a girl sitting on her box not far from Eily; she was evidently
+waiting for some one to fetch her. Eily eyed her garments with envy;
+they were of dazzling crimson, plentifully besprinkled with jet; she
+wore a large hat trimmed with roses; a "diamond" brooch fastened her
+neck-ribbon, and a "golden" chain fell from neck to waist; but what Eily
+liked best of all was the thick, black fringe that covered her forehead;
+such "style" the simple peasant had never before beheld; if only her
+aunt would be generous she would buy just such a dress as that, but
+whether or not, the fringe could be had for nothing, and _he_ should see
+that she could be as genteel as any one else, he need never be ashamed
+of her.
+
+Her plans and projects were alike cut short by her aunt, who, hot and
+excited after a wordy war with porters and cabmen, ran breathlessly
+along the platform.
+
+"Make haste, Eily! how long are you goin' to stand there staring like a
+sick owl? Hurry up, child; the cabman will be for charging me overtime
+if you're so slow, and it's bad enough to have to pay ordinary fare all
+that way."
+
+Eily took up the little tin box that held all her worldly possessions,
+and followed her aunt to the cab like one in some horrible dream. The
+fog, the crowds, the noises, the strangeness of everything! With a chill
+at her warm young heart she took her seat in the cab, and was driven
+swiftly through the streets. The fog was lifting slightly; she could see
+the houses and buildings stretching as far as eyes could follow them;
+houses everywhere, people everywhere; men, women, and children hurrying
+along the pavements; cabs and carts rolling unceasingly.
+
+[Sidenote: "Is there a Fair To-day?"]
+
+"Is there a fair to-day?" she asked her aunt, who was sitting opposite
+with closed eyes.
+
+"Fair? Simpleton! it's this way every day, only worse, because this is
+early morning, and there's only a few about yet;" and Mrs. Murphy's eyes
+closed again.
+
+The cab rattled along, the streets became narrow and unsavoury, but Eily
+knew no difference; it was all grand to her unsophisticated eyes; the
+little shops, with lights that flared dismally in their untidy windows,
+caused her much excitement and speculation.
+
+At last the cab drew up, and her aunt awoke from her nap in a bad
+temper.
+
+"Get my things together, quick, and don't dawdle; we're at home now, and
+you will have to set about your work!"
+
+Eily gathered together bags and boxes and set them down upon the
+pavement, while her aunt haggled with the driver in a spirited manner;
+the man went off, grumbling at the meanness of a "couple o' Hirishers,"
+but Eily, not understanding the English manner of using the aspirate,
+was blissfully unconscious of his meaning.
+
+The house door opened, and an elderly man, looking cowed and humble,
+shuffled out to meet them.
+
+"We've come at last!" cried out her aunt in a loud voice; "it's the last
+time I'll take the trouble to visit my folks! What the better am I for
+all the money I've spent on the trip? Better, indeed! A good deal worse
+_I_ should say! Take in the box, William! what are you stopping for?"
+she demanded angrily.
+
+"Oh, nothing, nothing, my dear! I'll take the box in at once,
+certainly!" The old man hurried to do his wife's bidding, and entered
+the squalid house. Eily followed with her parcels, and stood in doubt as
+to what her next proceedings should be, while her aunt bustled away
+somewhere, on food intent.
+
+The old man, having obediently deposited the box in the region of
+upstairs, shuffled down again, and approached Eily gently. "Are you her
+niece, my poor girl?" he whispered, with a backward glance in the
+direction of his departed spouse.
+
+"I am, sorr," answered Eily; "I am come to help me aunt wid the claning
+and the lodgers."
+
+"Poor child! poor child! I was afraid so," he murmured, shaking his head
+dolefully; "but, look here, don't notice her tempers and her tantrums,
+her carries on fearful sometimes, but least said soonest mended, and if
+you want to please her keep a still tongue in your head; I've learnt to
+do it, and it pays best. If ever you want a friend your uncle William
+will stand by you; now, not a word, not a word!" and he shuffled
+noiselessly away as loud footsteps drew near, and Mrs. Murphy appeared
+on the scene.
+
+"Now then, girl, come downstairs and set to work; the fire's black out,
+and not a drop o' water to be had! It's like him; he's got a brain like
+a sieve"--pointing to her husband, "and here am I nigh dying of thirst.
+Drat that bell!" she exclaimed, as a loud peal from upstairs sounded in
+the passage.
+
+William lit the fire, boiled the kettle, and frizzled the bacon, his
+wife sitting by criticising the work of his hands, and warming her
+elastic-sided boots at the fire. She ate her breakfast in silence, and
+then remembered Eily, who was sitting on the stairs, hungry, forlorn,
+and desolate, the tears running down her cheeks.
+
+"Come, girl, get your tea!" she called, as she replenished the pot from
+the kettle; "here's bread for you, better than that rubbishy stuff your
+mother makes; such bread as that I never see, it's that heavy it lies on
+your chest like a mill-stone."
+
+Eily took the slice of bread offered her and gnawed it hungrily; she had
+tasted nothing since the previous evening, as her aunt objected to waste
+money on "them swindling refreshment rooms," and the stock of bread and
+cakes her mother had given her was soon exhausted.
+
+"Now, girl, if you start crying you'll find you make a great mistake. I
+brought you here to work, and work you must! Fie, for shame! an ignorant
+country girl like you should be thankful for such a start in life as you
+are getting."
+
+"I'm not ignorant," Eily answered with spirit, "and it's yourself that
+knows it!"
+
+[Sidenote: "Do what you're Told!"]
+
+"Then get up and wash that there delf--don't give me any imperence, or
+you'll find yourself in the street; there's others better than you I've
+turned away, and the work'us has been their end--so mind your business,
+and do what you're told!" With this parting injunction Mrs. Murphy left
+the kitchen.
+
+The winter passed--cold, foggy, murky, miserable winter. Eily was
+transformed. No longer bright, sparkling, and gay, but pale, listless,
+and weary--the veriest drudge that ever lived under an iron rule. A
+thick black fringe adorned her forehead, her ears were bedecked with
+gaudy rings, and her waist squeezed into half its ordinary size; her
+clothes, bought cheaply at a second-hand shop, were tawdry and
+ill-fitting, yet they were her only pleasure; she watched herself
+gradually developing into a "fine lady" with a satisfaction and
+excitement that alone kept her from giving way altogether.
+
+Her heart was still aching for a sight of her lover, and many a time
+when her aunt was out she neglected tasks that she might sit at the
+parlour window and watch with feverish expectancy for the owner of the
+fair moustache and languid manner that had so completely taken her
+fancy; but he never came, and she rose from her vigils with a sore
+heart.
+
+Two friends she had; two who never spoke roughly, nor upbraided her.
+"Uncle William," himself cowed and subdued, stood first. Sometimes, when
+the lady of the house became unbearable, and poor Eily's head ached with
+all the tears she shed, he would take her in the cool of the evening
+away to a large green park, where the wind blew fresh, the dew sparkled
+on the grass, and the noisy traffic of the streets was still; there she
+would rest her weary body, while the old man soothed her gently and
+stroked her poor hands, all chapped and red with hard work.
+
+Eily's other friend was a lady who occupied a single top room in her
+aunt's tall house. She was a gentle, white-haired woman, with faded blue
+eyes and a sweet smile. She had won Eily's heart from the first by the
+soft, kindly tones of her voice, and the consideration she showed for
+the severely-tried feet of the little Irish maid. Mrs. Grey taught
+drawing and painting; her pupils were few, her terms low; it was a
+difficult matter to make both ends meet, but she managed it by careful
+contriving, and sometimes had enough to treat her waiting-maid to a
+morsel of something savoury cooked on her own little stove.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was May. Eily was standing at the window while Mrs. Murphy went forth
+on a bargain-hunting expedition.
+
+"Eily, come upstairs, child; I have something to show you." Mrs. Grey
+was in the room, looking flushed and excited; she was flourishing a book
+in her hand. Eily's heart beat rapidly as she ascended the steep
+staircase in the wake of her friend. Was it possible she could have
+news of _him_? Then she shook her head, for Mrs. Grey was not in her
+secret.
+
+They entered the neat little room at the top of the stairs. Mrs. Grey,
+walking to the table, never pausing to unfasten her bonnet-strings or to
+unbutton her gloves, opened the book and laid it on the table,
+exclaiming in triumph, "There you are to the life, Eily! See! it is the
+picture of the year, and is called 'The Queen of Connemara.'"
+
+A girl with eyes half-defiant, half-coquettish, lips demure and smiling,
+hair tied loosely in a knot at the back of her proudly-set head, was
+leaning against the white-washed wall of a thatched cabin--ah! it was
+Dermot's own! Eily noted the geraniums in the little blue box that he
+had tended himself.
+
+Eily's heart leapt, and then was still; there were her two bare feet
+peeping from beneath her thick red petticoat, just as they used in the
+olden times, and there was the blue-checked apron she had long ago
+discarded. With face now white, now red, she gazed at the picture, then
+spelt out its title, "The Queen of Connemara," painted by Leslie
+Hamilton.
+
+"Arrah, 'tis Misther Hamilton himself! 'twas he painted me!" she cried
+breathlessly, and sank into a chair completely overcome.
+
+"Then, Eily, you are a lucky girl! Every one in London is talking about
+'The Queen of Connemara,' and this Hamilton has made his name and
+fortune by your picture. Well, well! no wonder you are surprised! Here
+is the artist's portrait; do you remember him?" She turned over a few
+leaves of the book and pushed it towards Eily.
+
+[Sidenote: "At Last!"]
+
+Did Eily remember him? Ay, indeed! There were the clear blue eyes, the
+straight nose, the drooping moustache. Eily snatched up the book
+eagerly, "Misther Hamilton! at last! at last!" With a great sob her head
+fell forward on the table, and Mrs. Grey guessed the young girl's
+secret.
+
+Leslie Hamilton, R.A., was entertaining. In the middle of a smart crowd
+of society people he stood, the lion of the season. "The Queen of
+Connemara" had made him name and fame. He was smiling on all, as well he
+might, for his name was in every one's mouth.
+
+Standing about the studio, chattering gaily, or lounging idly, the
+guests of Leslie Hamilton were admiring everything while they sipped tea
+out of delicate Sevres cups. The artist himself was busy, yet his
+attention was chiefly directed to a beautiful young girl who sat on a
+velvet lounge, a tiny lap-dog on her knee. She was tall and dignified in
+mien, with soft grey eyes and bronze-gold hair, among which the sunlight
+was playing as it stole through a window behind her. She was the beauty
+of the season, and her father's sole heiress. Cold and distant with
+others, she was affable and even kind to Leslie Hamilton, and among her
+friends it was whispered such treatment could only end in one way; and
+though better things had been spoken of for Bee Vandaleur, the wife of
+an R.A. was by no means a position to be despised, and if Bee's fancy
+lay that way, why----! a shrug of its white shoulders, an elevation of
+its pencilled eyebrows, and Society went on its way.
+
+Leslie Hamilton had taken up his position near the door that he might
+easily acknowledge each new arrival. He was leaning over the fair Bee
+Vandaleur, watching the animation in her beautiful face, the grace with
+which she wore her large picture-hat, and the regal manner in which she
+sat. He glanced at the gay throng that filled his rooms, growing gayer
+still as the tinkle of tiny silver spoons increased in number and
+volume; there was not one to compare with Bee, _his_ Bee as he dared, in
+his own mind, to call her already. Gentle, dignified, graceful, always
+sweet and gracious to him, and with an ample fortune of her own, it was
+no wonder the artist felt that she was worth the winning.
+
+"How I should enjoy a peep at your model!" she was saying as she looked
+at a rough sketch he was showing her. "Was she as beautiful as you have
+made her?"
+
+"She was tolerably----" Hamilton hesitated. "Well, of course an artist's
+business is to make the most of good points, and omit the bad. She was a
+little rough and troublesome sometimes, but, on the whole, not a bad
+sitter."
+
+"And her name?" asked Miss Vandaleur.
+
+"Her name? oh, Mary, or Biddy, or Eily Joyce; really I cannot be sure;
+every one in that part of the world is either Eily or Biddy, and Joyce
+is the surname of half the population. She was a vain girl, I assure
+you; no beauty in her first season thought more of herself than did
+she."
+
+"I do not wonder at that," said Bee gently; "there are few women who
+possess beauty to such a marvellous degree. If only your Biddy could
+come to London she would be worshipped by all who were not utterly
+envious."
+
+Just what he had assured Eily himself nine months back, but it is
+inconvenient to remember everything one has said so long ago; we live at
+a pace now, and nine months is quite an epoch in our existence--so many
+things change in nine months!
+
+[Sidenote: A Startling Visitor]
+
+Hamilton smiled; it was rare to hear one beauty acknowledge another. He
+bent his head to make some remark that her ear alone might catch, but as
+he did so a slight stir at the door attracted his attention, and he
+looked up.
+
+The sight that met his gaze froze the smile on his lips; with a start
+which he could scarcely conceal the blood left his cheeks; him face
+became stern and white as death.
+
+There stood Eily herself, behind her the page who did duty at the door.
+The boy was pulling angrily at her sleeve, and an altercation was going
+on.
+
+"Shure 'tis himself will be glad to see me, ye spalpeen! Shame on yez
+to insult a poor girl. Musha, is it Misther Hamilton within and ashamed
+to spake to his Eily!"
+
+One more moment, then within that room in which art, and beauty, and
+refinement were gathered in one harmonious whole, a figure stole shyly.
+
+It was a young girl, gaudily attired in a blue dress; a hat, encircled
+by a long pink feather, crowned a face that was beautiful, were it not
+that it was marred by its many adornments. Gilt earrings glistened in
+the ears, a dark curly fringe covered forehead and eyebrows, and the
+chin was embedded in a tawdry feather boa of a muddy hue. An excited
+flush lay on her cheeks as she looked at the gay crowd within, searching
+for the loved face.
+
+At last a joyful recognition shone in her dark eyes, and forgetful of
+everything and everybody, she rushed across the polished floor to the
+horror-stricken artist.
+
+"Ah, Misther Hamilton, acushla! shure it's your own Eily has found yez
+at last!" She caught the artist's hand in her own impulsively--"Arrah,
+but it's the wide world I have searched, and I've found yez at last!"
+
+Silence had fallen on that part of the room where this little
+_contretemps_ was taking place. Hamilton saw the looks of wonderment on
+his guests' faces change into an amused smile as the little comedy
+progressed.
+
+The girl was looking earnestly at him.
+
+"Shure, you do not forget your own Eily--the girl you made into the
+picthur, your colleen oge! But maybe it's the jiwils and the clothes
+that has changed me; it's mighty grand they make me, to be sure, but it
+was so you should not be ashamed of me I put them on. Arrah, shpake to
+me, and let me hear the sound of your voice!"
+
+She looked pleadingly into his eyes, but he was speechless. At last by a
+mighty effort he turned with a sickly smile to some of his guests--
+
+"Here is the original of 'The Queen of Connemara'--scarcely
+recognisable in her new clothes, is she? Why, Eily, my child," with a
+paternal air, "whatever brought you here to London?"
+
+It was an unwise question; the answer was plain enough.
+
+"Faith, thin, 'twas yourself, Misther Hamilton! You promised to come
+back to me, and said you would make me the finest lady in the land; and
+I waited, but faix, I got sick and sore, so I came to find yez, and it's
+well-nigh at death's door I was till I heard of yez and found where ye
+live--and musha, but it's a grand place, God bless it!"
+
+Eily was looking around her now at the beautiful room, the lovely women,
+their smart attire, and shyness seized her; she hung her head in dismay;
+every one in the room was pressing forward to see the girl whom Hamilton
+had immortalised, and comments on her appearance passed from lip to lip.
+
+"Stand there, Eily," said Hamilton kindly, placing her on a low stool
+that stood near. The game should be played out now.
+
+The crowd pressed around eagerly, delighted and curious.
+
+[Sidenote: A Pleasant Surprise!]
+
+"What a pleasant surprise you have prepared for us, dear Mr. Hamilton!
+quite unprepared, I assure you! but ah, how you artists idealise to be
+sure! who but genius itself could find anything picturesque under so
+much glitter and vulgarity?" and so on and so on, until Eily's blushing
+face grew paler and paler.
+
+"Now, Eily, you may go; the ladies and gentlemen have looked at you long
+enough. Here is something to buy a new gown and bonnet," and Leslie
+Hamilton, with a patronising smile, put some gold into her hand.
+
+"How kind and considerate!" murmured the highborn dames as they turned
+away.
+
+He escorted the girl to the door, and drew aside the _portiere_
+courteously, but his face became livid with rage as he spoke in a low,
+stern voice, "Go, girl! never dare to come here again--if you do, I
+swear I will call the police!"
+
+He closed the door after her retreating figure, and turned with a smile
+to the company; his eyes sought those of beautiful Bee Vandaleur, but
+she had gone.
+
+Outside in the busy street Eily stood, leaning for support against a
+stone pillar. She heard nothing, saw nothing. A mist swam before her
+eyes; she was dumb with shame and disappointment; her face, a moment
+before so eager, was pale as death, and deep sobs that came from her
+very soul shook her poor body. She clenched the gold in her hands, and
+then with a bitter, passionate cry threw it into the street, and watched
+while two street-urchins picked it up and ran off with their
+treasure-trove.
+
+"May I help you, my poor girl? Are you in trouble?" Bee Vandaleur spoke
+gently and softly; she had heard all that passed between the artist and
+his model.
+
+Eily looked up. "Oh, me lady, God bless ye! but I'm past the helping
+now! I loved him, I would have died to save him from a minute's sorrow,
+and he threatened the police on me!"
+
+"Come with me; I will take care of you, and you shall tell me all." Miss
+Vandaleur hailed a passing hansom and jumped in, followed by Eily,
+white, shivering, and limp. "Now tell me all," she said, as they were
+driven at a rapid pace through the streets. Eily, won by her gentleness,
+told her the pitiful story of her love; told her of her simple mountain
+home, of the handsome stranger who had promised to return and carry her
+to a land where she would be fairest of the fair; told it with dry eyes
+and white set lips, while her heart was breaking and her temples beat,
+beat, beat, like sledge-hammers beneath the weight of the fringe with
+which she had thought to please him.
+
+Miss Vandaleur heard all, and made no sign, save that her lips tightened
+now and then, and an expression of pain stole into her soft grey eyes.
+
+It was a pathetic story, and the rich girl was touched as she listened
+to the poor simple one at her side. "Where do you live, Eily?" she
+asked, as the girl stopped speaking, and lay back with closed eyes.
+
+"At me aunt's, your honour, but I won't go back! shure, I cannot! Oh, me
+lady, let me go; it's not for the likes of me to be keeping your
+ladyship away from her grand friends. God's blessing upon ye for your
+kindness to a poor girl!"
+
+Bee was silent, wondering what she could do with the unhappy creature
+beside her; presently a bright thought struck her.
+
+"I am looking out for a girl who will attend on me, Eily; do you think
+you would like the place if you are taught?"
+
+[Sidenote: "An Angel from Heaven!"]
+
+"Arrah, me lady, me lady! it's an angel from heaven ye are!" cried Eily
+gratefully, but her head sank back again, till the gaudy pink feather in
+her hat was spoilt for ever.
+
+That night Eily was taken to hospital. Brain fever set in, and the
+doctors and nurses feared the worst.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Bee Vandaleur sat in her boudoir thinking. Her pretty brow was puckered
+as she gazed at the photograph of a young man, tall, fair, and handsome.
+For some time she cogitated, then, setting her lips together, she tore
+the card straight across, dropped it into the waste-paper basket beside
+her, and shrugged her pretty shoulders, exclaiming in a tone more
+forcible than polite, "Brute!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Leslie Hamilton stood outside the door of Mr. Vandaleur's handsome town
+residence. The footman, gorgeously attired, opened the heavy door.
+
+"Not at 'ome, sir," he answered pompously in answer to inquiries.
+
+"My good man, you have made some mistake; I am Leslie Hamilton, and I
+wish to see Miss Vandaleur."
+
+"Very sorry, sir, no mistake, sir; Miss Vandaleur is not at 'ome!" and
+the door closed in the face of the astonished artist.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was June in Connemara. Where else is the month of roses half as
+lovely? where does the sky show bluer, or the grass greener? and where
+is the air so clear and cool and fragrant, or the lakes half as still
+and azure as in that blessed country?
+
+The sun rode high in the sky, monarch of all, and men smiled as they
+went about their daily toil, and thanked the good God who was sending
+them favourable weather. Here and there, dotted about the hillsides, the
+tiny white-washed cabins were full of life; the cocks crowed proudly as
+they strutted in and out among their plump, sleek wives; the useful ass
+brayed loudly, roaming about field and lane in enjoyment of a leisure
+hour; the men were in the fields, cutting the sweet-scented grass, and
+the women busied themselves about the midday meal, while babies, with
+dirty faces and naked feet, tumbled about among the wandering pigs and
+quacking ducks in blissful content.
+
+Along the white road that bordered the lake a cart was jolting slowly
+along; it was painted in a startling shade of blue, with shafts of
+brightest red that projected both back and front; upon it was arranged,
+with neatness and precision, a load of turf just cut from the bog; on
+one side, painted black, that all who run might read, was the name of
+"Patrick O'Malley" in crude lettering, and Patrick himself, in working
+dress of coarse cream homespun, walked beside his slow-going jennet,
+idly smoking his tin-topped pipe. From time to time he drew from his
+trouser pocket a letter, which he fingered with respect, gazing at it
+with profoundest wonder.
+
+"Shure, 'tis the grandest and the natest letther ever seen, and the
+ilegant picthur on the back! Musha, musha, 'tis not the likes o' that
+comes to Biddy Joyce ivery day, no, nor to no one else neither in these
+parts! It minds me of a letther her ladyship at the castle aksed me to
+take to the posht, and her in a hurry; begob, but the paper's thick and
+good entoirely!" and he rubbed it softly between his finger and thumb.
+"Shure 'tis from London itself, and maybe the one as wrote it is some
+friend o' Eily's. Ah, but it's she is the foolish one that she did not
+take the boy! it's long ere she'll find another such a match again, and
+him with cattle and sheep and pigs o' his own, a house that many a girl
+would be wild for to get, and maybe--maybe--a bit laid by for a rainy
+day into the bargain!"
+
+[Sidenote: "Too Good for Her!"]
+
+The jennet jogged slowly on as Patrick soliloquised. "The poor lad, but
+it makes me heart ache to see him so low-like, setting so quiet in the
+house, and him thinking, thinking all the blessed while, and never a
+word out o' his mouth to complain. He's a rale good lad, and it's sorry
+I am that he should take on so bad, and all for the sake o' a pair o'
+bright eyes! To see him when Biddy Joyce was sick and Mike got laid up
+with rheumatics; who was it minded the cattle, and fed the pigs, and sat
+early and late 'tending on the pair o' thim but Dermot! It's mighty high
+the girl is, with her talk o' the gintry and the ilegant places she seen
+in London, and never a mintion o' his name in all her letthers, the
+foolish craythur! it's too good the bhoy is for the likes o' her!" The
+old man was beginning to wax indignant over his son's unfavoured suit
+when a voice, rich and strong, called to him across the loose stone wall
+that divided the road from the fields.
+
+"Any news going down Lissough way, father?" It was Dermot, who had
+stopped for a moment in his task of cutting down the long grass.
+
+"Arrah, phwat news is it likely an old man like me should bring? You ask
+me so eager-like that I misdoubt me but it's some colleen that's caught
+your eye!" Patrick's eyes twinkled merrily as he made his little joke.
+Dermot's face saddened, and he turned to his scythe once more.
+
+His father, sorry that he had brought back the cloud once more to his
+son's face, pulled the letter from his pocket and laid it on the wall.
+
+"Now, there's for yez! as lovely a letther as ever you seen, all the way
+from London, with a little picthur of an agle on the back o' it! 'Tis
+for Biddy Joyce, and maybe ye'll take it, Dermot, seeing your legs is
+younger than mine?"
+
+Dermot was off already, climbing the mountain slopes in hot haste.
+
+Biddy Joyce stood watching him from the door where Eily and he had
+parted months before.
+
+"The poor fellow! it's like me own son he has been all this time, so
+kind when the sickness took hould o' Mike and me! It's meself that
+wishes he could forget me daughter, for it's poor comfort she will ever
+be to him. Faith, thin, Dermot," she exclaimed, as he came towards her,
+"phwat is it at all at all that ye come hurrying like this when the sun
+is warm enough to kill a body? Come inside, lad, and taste a sup o' me
+nice, sweet butther-milk; shure the churn's just done, though the
+butther's too soft entoirely"--she shook her head sadly.
+
+"A letther!" cried Dermot, drawing out the treasured epistle from
+between the folds of his shirt, where he had hastily thrust it, that his
+hands might not soil the creamy paper.
+
+"Thanks be to God!" exclaimed the woman, raising her eyes and hands for
+one moment to heaven. "'Tis long sence she wrote to me, the poor
+darlint, and it's many a time I lie awake and think o' the child all
+alone wid sthrangers not of her own blood. Whisht, boy, but you are
+worse nor meself I make no doubts"--as Dermot snatched the letter from
+her and hastily tore open the envelope. His face was pale with
+excitement and dread, for he feared, with a lover's jealous fear, that
+this was an announcement of Eily's marriage with some of the grand folks
+she had talked about.
+
+"Rade it, Dermot; 'tis long sence I was at school, and the writin's not
+aisy."
+
+Dermot obeyed, and this is the letter he spelt out slowly, with no
+little difficulty and several interruptions--
+
+          "Miss Vandaleur is sorry to tell Mrs. Joyce that
+          her daughter Eily has been suffering from a severe
+          illness; she has been in hospital for three weeks
+          with brain fever, and until a few days ago was
+          unable to give her mother's address. She is now
+          much better, and the doctors hope to allow her to
+          leave soon; she is being taken every care of by
+          friends, but if some one could be spared to come
+          such a long distance to see her, it would be the
+          best thing for the poor girl, as she is always
+          wishing for her home, and seems tired of living in
+          London."
+
+Biddy Joyce was weeping bitterly before the end of the letter, with her
+blue-checked apron held up to her eyes; three or four of the little ones
+had gathered around, staring with wide-open eyes.
+
+[Sidenote: Dermot's Resolve]
+
+Dermot kept up bravely till the last sentence, and then he could stand
+it no longer; he rushed out of the house, down the stony boreen. Eily
+sick and ill! Eily well-nigh at death's door! Eily far away in hospital
+with strange hands to tend her! Poor girl, his love, his darlint! she
+was tired of it all, wishing for home; oh, how his heart yearned for
+her, and he longed to take her in his arms and comfort her.
+
+He wandered aimlessly about the mountain side until his emotion had
+well-nigh subsided, and then he plunged into the Joyces' cabin once
+more.
+
+"Mrs. Joyce, it's to-morrow, early mornin', you and me musht shtart for
+London!"
+
+Biddy looked up quickly. "To-morrow! the bhoy's crazy entoirely! It will
+be a week before I can go. Who will look after the house and the hins,
+and the childer, not forgetting Mike himself? I musht wait till me
+sister comes from Ballinahinch, and thin I will go to the child. She's
+betther, and near well, or the docthors wouldn't be for lettin' her out
+o' hospital, and faith, her aunt, me sisther Delia, will look afther her
+for a bit until I find it convaynient to lave; shure Mike himself will
+write to Eily and tell her I'm coming; that will cheer her heart up, the
+poor sowl."
+
+"Maybe ye are right, Mrs. Joyce." Dermot said no more, but turned slowly
+away.
+
+With a firm step and an air of decision he walked homewards across the
+fields.
+
+"Mother, it's going to London I am," he said as he entered the house;
+"will ye see me clothes is ready, and put me up a bit o' bread? That's
+all I'll trouble ye for."
+
+Honor O'Malley looked at the tall, manly figure of her only son, at the
+frank, proud face, the bright blue eyes, and the firmly-set mouth; the
+exclamation that was on her lips died away.
+
+"God bless ye, me own bhoy!" she cried instead, in a half-smothered
+voice, and bent, down over the hearth to hide the tears that rose to her
+eyes and choked her utterance.
+
+Dermot climbed the ladder that led to the tiny room in the roof where he
+slept; from beneath the mattress he drew a box, which he unlocked
+carefully. A small pile of sovereigns lay at the bottom; he counted them
+carefully, although he knew exactly the sum the little box contained;
+after fingering them almost lovingly for a few moments he transferred
+them to a small canvas bag, which he put in his pocket. "Maybe 'twill
+all be wanted," he exclaimed, with a happy gleam in his eye; "maybe, and
+maybe not, but howsoever it goes, one look at her blessed face will be
+worth it all!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In a pretty, low-ceiled parlour, whose windows looked out upon a
+pleasant garden, lay Eily. The wide, old-fashioned sofa was drawn close
+to an open window, that she might feel the soft, cool air on her cheeks,
+and sniff the fragrance of the mignonette that filled the beds outside.
+It was a very thin face that lay upon the soft down pillow, but a slight
+tinge of pink on her cheeks told of returning health. Her abundant black
+tresses had been ruthlessly shorn away, and tiny curls clustered around
+forehead and neck; her eyes, dark as sloes, were large and thoughtful.
+Two days before she had been removed from the great London hospital, and
+brought by Miss Vandaleur to her father's country-home, where the
+kindliest of white-haired house-keepers watched over her beloved Miss
+Bee's _protegee_, tending her with gentlest care.
+
+"Good-morning, Eily;" Miss Vandaleur, in a simple morning gown of white,
+entered the room.
+
+Eily struggled to her feet. "Good-morning, miss, your honour!"
+
+Bee laughed good-naturedly; it was funny to hear herself addressed by
+such a title.
+
+"Now lie still, Eily, you are not quite strong yet. Tell me, are you
+happy here?"
+
+"Happy! Arrah, it's like heaven, miss; my blessin' and the blessin' of
+God on ye for all your kindness to a poor girl. Shure, but for yourself
+I would have been in me grave this day."
+
+[Sidenote: "Is there no one else?"]
+
+"I am glad you are happy, Eily; but is there no one you would like to
+see, no one from home, I mean? Just say the word; perhaps I can manage
+it," she said slyly.
+
+"Shure there's me mother--maybe me father too; but you could scarce get
+them here, miss--beggin' your honour's pardon," she added hastily.
+
+"Is there no one else, Eily? no one that you think of sometimes--no one
+who was kind to you, and loved you dearly?" Bee was leaning over the wan
+face eagerly, and what she saw for answer was a deep crimson flush that
+covered face, neck, and brow, while tears rolled down the cheeks. Eily
+had been thinking of Dermot continually of late, wishing with all her
+heart that she had not so scorned his love; she had learnt many lessons
+in the quiet watches of the night and the weary hours of weakness
+through which she had passed.
+
+Bee Vandaleur said no more, but patted the dark curls gently. "Don't
+cry, Eily, all will be right soon," and she left the room.
+
+Eily was alone once more.
+
+"Ah, Dermot, Dermot asthore! why was it I trated ye so!" The tears were
+trickling through her fingers, and her heart was aching with
+self-reproach.
+
+"Eily, mavourneen!"
+
+The tear-stained fingers were taken in two big, strong hands, and
+Dermot, with a depth of love in his eyes, bent over the sorrow-stricken
+face and laid a kiss on the quivering lips; not another word was spoken,
+but Dermot's protecting arms were around her, and with her head on the
+heart that throbbed with love and devotion all the past was blotted out,
+all her folly forgotten, and Eily found rest.
+
+In a surprisingly short time Eily regained her health; happiness is the
+best of medicine, and Eily felt she had as much as her heart could hold.
+Looking at Dermot with a lover's eyes she found out all that was noble
+and good in him, and when he asked her to be his wife ere a week had
+flown by she gave a glad consent.
+
+
+Unwin Brothers, Limited, The Gresham Press, Woking and London
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+   Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
+
+   Varied hyphenation retained between different authors' stories.
+
+   Page 4, "Sedgmoor" changed to "Sedgemoor." (in Sedgemoor days)
+
+   Page 30, "Frauelein" changed to "Fraeulein." (to be respected
+            Fraeulein)
+
+   Page 32, same. (Fraeulein Christina Fasch)
+
+   Page 63, A character named "Robert" appears in a sidenote and
+            one paragraph. In the next paragraph his name is changed
+            to Max. The first two instances have been changed to Max
+            to conform. ([Sidenote: Uncle Max]) and (it was so, Max.)
+
+   List of Illustrations and on Illustration, "MARTIN" changed to
+   "MARTYN" to conform to text. (SELINA MARTYN GAVE)
+
+   Illustration caption, "FIRST-BORN" changed to "FIRSTBORN" to
+   reflect text. (THEIR FIRSTBORN)
+
+   Page 176, "half mended" changed to "half-mended." (was only
+             half-mended)
+
+   Page 240, "Kaffir" changed to "Kafir." (and a Kafir sprang out)
+
+   Page 314, "ever" changed to "over." (throw over the head)
+
+   Page 317, "unbotton" changed to "unbutton." (unbutton her gloves)
+
+   Page 323, sidenote "Good-bye" changed to "Goodbye."
+
+   The story entitled "Poor Jane's Brother" is credited to M. Ling
+   in the table of contents and in the list of authors, but the page
+   on which the story begins lists Marie F. Salton as the author.
+   This discrepancy was retained.
+
+   The illustration labelled "AT THE PICNIC:" seems to go with no
+   story in this text.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMPIRE ANNUAL FOR GIRLS, 1911***
+
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