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diff --git a/old/66382-0.txt b/old/66382-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 462f603..0000000 --- a/old/66382-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10803 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Girl of To-day, by Ellinor Davenport -Adams - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: A Girl of To-day - -Author: Ellinor Davenport Adams - -Illustrator: Gertrude Demain Hammond - -Release Date: September 25, 2021 [eBook #66382] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, SF2001, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GIRL OF TO-DAY *** - - - - - -[Illustration: - -M432 - -“FRANCES CAUGHT SIGHT OF A DARK FIGURE ADVANCING.”] - - - - - A GIRL OF TO-DAY - BY - ELLINOR DAVENPORT ADAMS - - Author of “Miss Secretary Ethel”, “Comrades True”, - “Colonel Russell’s Baby”, “May, Guy, and Jim”, &c. - - - _WITH SIX ILLUSTRATIONS BY GERTRUDE DEMAIN HAMMOND, R.I._ - -[Illustration] - - - LONDON - BLACKIE & SON, Limited, 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C. - GLASGOW AND DUBLIN - 1899 - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - Chap. Page - I. Brother and Sister, 9 - II. Boys and Girls together, 24 - III. Adventurers Four, 36 - IV. Rowdon Smithy, 53 - V. Doctor Max, 65 - VI. Music and Mumming, 82 - VII. Photographers Abroad, 103 - VIII. Jim East, 124 - IX. Frances Falters, 150 - X. Trouble at Elveley, 165 - XI. The Head of the House, 186 - XII. A Gentleman-Blacksmith, 209 - XIII. “Missy”, 222 - XIV. Mrs. Holland’s Trio, 239 - XV. Polly’s Deliverer, 256 - XVI. Wanted--A Nice Somebody, 269 - XVII. Lessing of Lessing’s Creek, 274 - XVIII. To the Far South, 283 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS. - - - Page - -“Frances caught sight of a dark figure advancing”, _Frontis._ 123 - -“The old man leaned forward suddenly to scan the speaker’s face”, 58 - -“A story we bring you from Faëry Land”, 91 - -“Nay, Elizabeth,” said Jim kindly, “there’s no need for locking up”, 197 - -“The figure moved, rose, came forward with the painful caution of -dreary suspense”, 269 - -“Ah! but you would make such a mistake if you thought we would let -you go”, 283 - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -A GIRL OF TO-DAY. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -BROTHER AND SISTER. - - -“Here you are, then, Sis! Here you are--at last!” - -The final words, spoken in a tone of complete satisfaction, accompanied -a daring dive of hand and arm through the open window of the still -moving railway-carriage. - -“You ridiculous boy! We are only five minutes behind time!” Frances -seized the intruding hand in a firm grip; and, as the train stopped, -leaned out of the window to bestow a sisterly hug. “Its good to see -you, dear! How brown and jolly you look! The country agrees with you, -Austin; I thought it would.” - -“Well, I don’t know. It was fearfully slow here at first, after -Allerton. Of course, now--. Oh, come along, Frances! I’ve heaps to -tell you, once we’re on the road. I wouldn’t bring the trap, because -I wanted time for a good talk all to ourselves; and I knew the mile -walk from the station to Woodend wouldn’t frighten you. Toss out the -parcels! I suppose you’ve a few dozen. What, only one? Hallo! they’ve -taught you something at school.” - -Frances nodded her head reflectively. “Much you know about that yet, my -son. Wait awhile, and I’ll enlighten you!” - -Delivering herself of this promise,--which was received by the boy with -an impudent little shrug,--the girl sprang to the platform in a style -strongly suggestive of past triumphs in her school gymnasium, and then -proceeded to catch her brother by the shoulders and give him what she -called “a proper look-over”. - -Austin stood the examination well. Though slightly built, he was broad -of chest and straight of limb; his blue eyes were bright and clear; -and the weakness of his mouth was usually discounted by the sunny -smile which readily parted his lips. Nearly three years younger than -his sister, and accustomed to look to her for companionship, guidance, -and encouragement, Austin had found the months of their separation so -real a trial that his joy in their present meeting was particularly -demonstrative. He remembered in a flash of thought half a score of -promising projects which had been allowed to lapse until Frances -should come home from Haversfield College. And now Frances was here in -front of him, and surveying him with the steady gray eyes he knew and -truly loved--Frances herself, no whit spoiled by her two terms at the -famous school for girls, though in Austin’s mind there had lurked some -fears of long skirts, hair “done up”, and--worse than all!--airs of -condescending superiority and adult wisdom. - -Frances did not look at all grown-up. She was just a healthy, happy -lass of barely fourteen years; frankly preferring short frocks to long -ones, and in no haste for the time when hair-dressing should become -a troublesome solemnity. So far, life had made small demands on her -individuality. At home, she had known no special duty except the care -of Austin, who had been rather delicate in early childhood; at school, -she had been one of many, fairly successful in her work, more than -fairly successful at games and bodily exercises, and perhaps showing -promise chiefly in a susceptibility to all those influences which tend -to widen a young girl’s sympathies and draw out her intelligence. -Frances had been fortunate in her recent experience--Haversfield -is an excellent nursery for the best kind of girlhood. Its many -house-mistresses are chosen by the Principal with extreme care; -and Frances had been under the charge of Miss Cliveden, a clever, -cultivated, and liberal-minded woman, whose training was quite as -valuable for heart as for head. The brightest-witted, most thoughtful, -and most generous pupils of Haversfield were proud to call themselves -“Miss Cliveden’s girls”. - -“Is Mamma all right?” inquired Frances, releasing her brother after a -little satisfied shake. - -“Right as she can be. Ten deep in tea-drinkings, and particular -friends with all the world. No, not with all the world--with the most -particular world of Woodend. She’s ‘At Home’ this afternoon, you know. -First and third Thursdays, and all that twaddle--” - -“Austin!” laughed Frances, faintly reproachful. - -“Well, it is! Fancy a lot of women staring at each other over tea-cups -and cake, and two odd men tripping about among the crew and wishing -themselves at Kamschatka!” - -“Who are the two?” - -“Any tame sparrows caught in the trap.” - -“You ought to watch them, and learn what you’ve to grow up to.” - -“Catch me!” - -“But Mamma is well?” persisted Frances. “And she likes Woodend, and her -new house--you’re sure?” - -“Oh, I suppose so!” exclaimed Austin, showing signs of impatience. - -“She left Allerton for your sake, and I think you ought to remember -that.” - -“Don’t preach!” - -“Don’t you be ridiculous,” said Frances sharply. “I’ve no patience with -boys who call every sensible word ‘preaching’.” - -“I’ve no patience with girls who are everlastingly ‘sensible’.” - -Frances’s frowns vanished, and smiles came instead. Her sisterly -prerogative of “preaching” was so seldom exercised that Austin usually -took her mild rebukes like a lamb. His laugh echoed hers just now, and -he gave an affectionate hug to the arm he clung to. Brother and sister -were walking at a good pace along the straggling white road to the -village. - -“Never mind, Sis. You shall preach as much as you like--to-day. And -Mater is really all right--she must be. She has loads of friends -already.” - -“Loads! In a tiny place like this!” commented Frances, gazing about -her. On either hand stretched the green meadows, watered by brooks -filled with recent rain; in front, the country spread smiling and -serene under the brilliant sun of late July. Immediately before them, -the road dipped into a shallow wooded valley, studded on both sides -with houses of every degree. Farther off, above the trees of Fencourt -Park (the home of Woodend’s chief landlord), could be descried the -broken ridges of Rowdon Common. All these interesting facts were -duly pointed out by Austin, with the justifiable airs and pride of -a resident; while Frances, as a new-comer, merely listened or asked -sagacious questions. - -“That’s where we hang out,” remarked the boy elegantly, while waving -his hand towards a long, picturesquely-built house on the opposite side -of the valley. “It’s a tidy crib, with lots of room.” - -“A crib--with lots of room! A pretty confusion of terms, young man.” - -“I’ve bagged a jolly place for larks,” continued Austin eagerly. -“There’s a stove in it and a splendid big table, and a bath-room next -door, which will just do for our photography.” - -The boy’s face, uplifted to his sister’s, was full of the happy -enthusiasm which feels itself secure of sympathy; and Frances’s heart -beat high with pleasure because her welcome home was of this joyful -sort. For the absent school-girl, like her brother, had known some -fears--lest the six months’ parting should have taught Austin to do -without her. The boy had proved a poor correspondent; and it was not -easy for Frances with her warm, unselfish temperament, to realize that -unanswered letters did not necessarily signify failing affection. - -“That’s the church--it’s splendid for photographing, if only one could -get the lines of the tower straight. And there’s the rectory alongside. -The Rector’s very old; but a good sort, like the curate.” - -“The curate is Mr. Carlyon, your tutor, isn’t he? Oh, Austin, do you -like having lessons with him?” asked Frances, with intense interest. -Her reverence for knowledge had grown of late, and she wanted, not -unnaturally, to find out whether in this direction Austin’s steps had -progressed with her own. - -“I like it well enough. You see,” he added awkwardly, “I’m not exactly -a grind; one must use one’s wits, but I think mine go best with my -hands. Only, Carlyon was a swell at Oxford, and he’s got a way of -making one think one wouldn’t mind being a swell too.” - -Frances looked relieved and quite contented. - -“Then he knows a straight ball when he sees one,” Austin continued, -“and he’s a crack with his bat. Then when lessons are on, he doesn’t -drone away everlastingly about dead-and-gone chaps. There’s one of his -cranks we all approve of, somehow.” - -“What is it?” - -“We’ve half an hour every day for what he chooses to call ‘current -events’. Carlyon tells us what’s going on in the world, reads bits -out of papers and talks them over, and gives marks to the fellows who -remember best.” - -“Oh, Austin! I hope you get most marks!” interrupted Frances, with the -utterly unreasonable ambition of a sister. Austin felt that he was -wanting, and replied grumpily: - -“Hang it, I’d like to know what chance I have! The other chaps hear -things at home. Mater won’t let me look at a paper, and never talks to -me about what she reads herself.” - -“Never mind,” said Frances, “I’ll hunt out the news for you, and read -the things up, and send you off all ready crammed. I shall like doing -it.” - -“I know you will,” groaned Austin. “I say, Frances, you’ll shine like -the sun at our ‘symposia’--I hope you like that pretty word, Ma’am!” - -“What are your symposia?” chuckled Frances, beginning to think Woodend -couldn’t be so much behind Haversfield itself. - -“Why, on Saturday mornings Carlyon takes his boys, and his sister takes -her girls, and we’ve a meeting in the big rectory dining-room. Then -the lot of us talk like fits about those blessed ‘current events’ our -respected teachers have been driving into us all the week. It’s prime -fun, once we get started. Carlyon and his sister do the starting. -When they’re on opposite sides, we’ve rare larks; for they pitch -into one another like mad--quite civilly, you know. Then we chaps -and Miss Carlyon’s crew follow suit, and go for one another in fine -style. Gracious! You should have heard Max Brenton and Florry Fane -last Saturday! It was our breaking-up day, and we had an extra grand -symposium. Max and Florry are no end good at argufying.” - -Frances heard the names of these friends of Austin with the pleasant -anticipations natural to a sociable girl just about to make trial of -a new home, new surroundings, new companions. She hoped this “Max and -Florry” would be “good” for something besides “argufying”--good for -comradeship of the only kind possible to a nature whose characteristics -were deep-rooted and strong. Half-hearted alliances were outside -Frances’s comprehension; her love and trust must be given freely and -fully, or not at all. - -“In her last letter Mamma told me I was to be one of Miss Carlyon’s -girls after the holidays. That will seem funny at first, now that I -have got used to a big school. It was nice at Haversfield, Austin. I -want to stay with Mamma and you, of course, else I should like to go -back. Miss Cliveden--my house-mistress--was so jolly. She used to make -one feel as if one wanted to be of some good, if one could.” - -“You can be of lots of good here,” said Austin comfortably. “It’s no -sense a fellow having a sister if she’s away at school. Max says if he -had a sister he’d think himself lucky, for she would be able to teach -him how to make a bed properly. That’s a thing he often needs to do for -his worst cases, and he does not quite understand it.” - -“What do you mean?” - -Austin declined to explain. At the moment he was too much occupied with -his own affairs to have leisure for Max’s. He was eager to convince -Frances that she could be of supreme use to him personally; and -Frances, before whose eyes had lately gleamed a vision of a wider range -for her girlish energies, listened, and sympathized, and promised, -as only the best of sisters could. She was quite sure that Austin -wanted her most of all. He always had wanted her, and she never had -disappointed him. - -They had been brought up together, and educated by the same governesses -and tutors until a few months before this story opens. Then Austin’s -childish delicacy had for the first time threatened to become serious, -and his mother had carried him off to London for distinguished medical -advice. For years Mrs. Morland’s home had been in Allerton, a large -provincial town to which she had first been attracted because it was -the dwelling-place of an old friend, who had since passed away. The -London doctors recommended a country life for Austin; and, after some -weeks of search for a suitable spot, Mrs. Morland fixed on Woodend, a -village which had everything desirable in the way of soil, air, and -scenery. Her household gods were removed from Allerton to Woodend in -the course of a bright April, and she and her son settled down in the -pretty home she had bought and furnished. - -During all this time of unrest, Frances had been quietly at work at -Haversfield, where she had been sent in order that her education might -not be interrupted. She had spent the Easter holidays with a school -friend, because at the time her mother was superintending the removal -to Woodend, and Austin was paying a visit to a Scotch cousin. - -If Mrs. Morland had guessed under what influences her daughter would -come, she certainly would not have sent her to Haversfield. Not only -had she no regard for the “learned lady”, but she set no value at all -upon the womanly accomplishments which were unable to secure social -prestige. Miss Cliveden’s definition of “society” would have astonished -Mrs. Morland; and her gospel of labour, preached with her lips and -in her life, would have seemed to Frances’s mother uniquely dull and -quixotic. - -Miss Cliveden taught her girls to love work, to love it best when -done for others, and to reverence all work truly and faithfully -accomplished. The nobility of honest labour was her favourite theme, -and the allurements of altruistic toil the highest attraction she could -hold out to her young scholars. As her pupils were all in the upper -forms of the college, Frances was one of the youngest of them, and -Miss Cliveden took a great liking for the frank-hearted, winning lass. -Thrown chiefly among the elder girls, Frances soon caught their spirit -and shared their ambitions, while remaining in ways and thoughts a -thorough child. - -By the time Mrs. Morland was comfortably settled in Woodend, she began -to grow tired of petting and coddling a wayward, restless boy. Scotland -and the country air had brought Austin back to fair health, and his -bright eyes and rosy cheeks assured his mother that her sacrifice had -not been in vain. Mrs. Morland loved ease of mind and body. She thought -it time her boy should return to his lesson-books, and that Frances--so -soon as her second term at Haversfield should be over--should come home -to help him. - -The terms of his father’s will had decreed that Austin should be -educated privately. Mr. Morland had disliked public schools. His -wife regretted the social disadvantage, but could not overrule her -husband’s decision; and she began to face the trouble of looking out -for a new tutor. Before she had looked long, she discovered that Mr. -Carlyon, the young curate of Woodend church, took pupils; and Austin -became one of them for the greater part of the summer term. - -“What sort of place is Woodend?” asked Frances. - -“Oh, well--nice enough. Some jolly fellows among the boys, and plenty -of girls to match. I dare say you’ll like Florry Fane, anyhow. She has -lots of pluck, and doesn’t bounce, though she’s no end clever. Then -there’s roly-poly Betty Turner--and May Gordon--and the First Violin.” - -“Who’s the First Violin?” - -“We’ve a boys’ and girls’ band, and she’s the leader. Everybody calls -her the First Violin. She hardly moves without her fiddle; and she -_can_ play.” - -“What about your fiddle? Haven’t you joined the band, lazy imp?” - -“Had to; Miss Carlyon wouldn’t let me off. Besides, it’s good fun. -We’ve a master to train us, and he gives me lessons alone as well. I -practise sometimes,” added Austin hastily, “so you needn’t worry.” - -Frances felt on this golden afternoon even less inclined than usual to -“preach”, so she let the fiddle pass. - -“Are there any poor folks in the village?” she inquired. - -“Crowds!--at least, Max says so. He’s always abusing Sir Arthur -Fenn--chap who lives at Fencourt, the biggest place about. That’s to -say, Fencourt and most of Woodend belong to him; but he’s hardly ever -here. He’s got a grander place somewhere, and that’s why he doesn’t -care much about this one, and won’t do much for the people.” - -“What a shame!” - -“I don’t know,--they’re such a rough lot, no decent folk would want to -go near them.” - -“I should!” declared Frances warmly. “I’d love to try to help people -who were very poor and miserable.” - -“Gracious!” cried Austin, laughing merrily. “I declare, you’re as bad -as Max. He’ll show you the way about, if you want to be mixed up in -charity soup and blankets!” - -“Why!--what should a boy know about such things?” said Frances, -laughing too. - -“Max isn’t _a_ boy, as you’ll soon discover. He’s _the_ boy. The one -and only Max Brenton. My grammar doesn’t amount to much, but I know Max -is of the singular number.” - -“Who is he?” - -“He’s the son of Doctor Brenton--the one and only son of the one and -only doctor!” - -“Is Dr. Brenton as singular as Max?” - -“More so, my dear!--yes, if possible, more so!” returned Austin, -grimacing expressively. “You see, they’ve brought each other up, and -it’s sort of mixed which is which. So they’re ‘the old Doc’ and ‘the -young Doc’ to all Woodend,--and a jolly good sort they both are!” -continued the boy heartily. “If Max weren’t always so fearfully busy, -he’d be the chummiest chum a fellow could want.” - -“What is he so busy about?” asked Frances, enjoying the description of -this mysterious Max. - -“Why--soup and blankets!” - -“Nonsense!” - -“Fact.” - -“You are a provoking scamp!” - -“Respected student of distinguished Haversfield (as Florry would say), -if you put me on to construe for an hour I couldn’t ‘render into -tolerable English’ the sayings and doings of Max Brenton--the one and -only Max Brenton! He’s not to be understood. You must just take him as -you find him; and if you don’t meet him to-day, hope you’ll come across -him to-morrow. And now, don’t you want to know if the tennis-court is -in good order, and if you’re going to have cake for tea?” - -Frances laughed, and yielded herself up to home matters. For a time the -brother and sister exchanged question and answer at a great rate, and -held a lively discussion as to the possibilities of Elveley. Austin was -full of talk about his chosen playroom and its entrancing conveniences. -Frances planned the arrangement of cunning nooks for her personal -possessions, and promised to give her whole mind to the study of -photography, until she had solved the problems presented by the camera -which had been a present to Austin from the Scotch cousin. - -The young pair chuckled and chattered like magpies, and were so deep in -their concerns that a boy, coming at full speed round a corner from the -village, almost ran into them before he attracted their attention. - -“Hallo!” cried Austin, “there’s Max!” - -“The one and only Max?” - -“No other. What’s in the wind now? Small-pox or scarlet-fever?” - -“How fast he runs!” - -“Max hardly ever walks--he hasn’t time. Hi! Hallo!” - -Austin slipped his hand from Frances’s arm, dived adroitly on one side, -and managed to catch his friend in headlong course. - -“Hallo!” panted Max, in return. “So sorry, old chap; I didn’t see it -was you.” He disengaged himself and stepped with outstretched hand -towards Austin’s sister. “And this is Miss Frances?” he continued, -smiling frankly. - -“Rather!” remarked Austin, with a certain gracious condescension, -as becomes one whose sister is of the right sort to make sisterless -fellows envious. “I’ve been telling her what a singular number you are; -and she wants to go shares in your soup-and-blanket business.” - -“It’s awfully jolly of her,” said Max, who had meanwhile exchanged with -Frances a comrade’s grasp. “We wanted some more girls badly in Woodend.” - -“Humph!” said Austin slyly. - -“At all events, we wanted _a_ girl,” insisted Max. - -“Frances isn’t _a_ girl, she’s _the_ girl; the one and only Frances, -who will soon be the sworn ally of the one and only Max.” - -“All the better for me!” laughed Max. “Will you really, though, Miss -Frances?” - -“I’d like to,” replied the girl, smiling at this busy boy’s pleasant, -eager face. - -“I’ll hold you to it,” declared Max. “I must say good-bye, for see -here!” - -Laughing heartily, Max tapped his bulging pockets. - -“What is it?” inquired Frances. - -“Pills and potions!--so I must cut!” He lifted his cap, sang out a gay -farewell, and was off at his former excellent pace. - -“What a nice boy!” exclaimed Frances, still beaming. “At least, of -course I don’t know much about him yet, but he looks nice.” - -“He’s a good sort,” said Austin again, with emphasis. - -“Why does he carry his father’s medicines? Hasn’t Dr. Brenton a proper -person--?” - -“Max thinks he is a proper person.” - -“What does he do about them when he’s at school?” - -“He doesn’t come to school, except for a few hours in the week. He -learns classics and mathematics with us--his father has taught him the -rest. Dr. Brenton couldn’t possibly get on all day without Max. You’ll -soon understand why. Now, Frances, we’ll be in Woodend directly. I hate -crawling down a hill when I’m hot, so I’m going full pelt till I get to -the bottom of this one. Don’t you hurry. I’ll wait for you there.” - -“Will you, though?” demanded Frances with scorn. And Austin’s last -fears about the effects of Haversfield vanished when his sister darted -forward, overtook him easily, passed him triumphantly, and made her -entry into Woodend at a speed which showed no concern either for her -sailor-hat or her dignity. - -“I said she was _the_ Frances!” murmured Austin, as with a great -affectation of indifference he jogged along behind. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -BOYS AND GIRLS TOGETHER. - - -Though he counted the Doctor’s son as first and chief, Austin -undoubtedly had plenty of friends; and since the time of his coming -to Woodend he had done his best to prepare the way for Frances by -industriously singing her praises. The young people who had managed -hitherto to exist in the village without either Austin or Frances -might have been severely bored but for the agreeable curiosity roused -by Austin’s descriptions of his absent sister. The Woodend boys were -really anxious to make the acquaintance of so remarkable a girl. The -Woodend lassies, having a good opinion of Austin, were willing to -expect great things of Austin’s sister. Both boys and girls indulged -the hope that the new-comer into their little world might rouse in it -some pleasant stir. - -They knew that they needed badly a stimulus of some sort to give fresh -energy to their rather monotonous lives. They had their games and -pastimes, like other youngsters; but these suffered in attraction for -want of competition. The cricket-team and tennis-club rarely found -rivals with whom they might contend in honourable warfare. Woodend was -not exactly remote; but it had a special population of upper-class -residents, who loved its pure air and fine scenery, and had no -neighbours of like tastes and habits in the villages near at hand. The -young folks played and worked contentedly enough among themselves as -a rule; but they were growing just a little tired of each other, and -there was nobody to lead. - -The girls--poor things!--were in worst case. The boys, when they had -turned fourteen or fifteen, were usually sent to a public school. The -girls remained at home, with so much time on their hands that they -could not even enjoy the luxury of being idle--it was too common an -experience. - -The Carlyons--Edward and Muriel--were working, in part, a reformation. -Edward Carlyon, Master of Arts of Oxford University, had established -a small private school for boys; Muriel Carlyon, sometime student of -Girton College, and graduate of London, had done as much for the girls. -The Woodend youngsters of good degree flocked to Wood Bank,--formerly -the home of an artist,--where Edward taught his boys in the big, -dismantled studio, and Muriel consecrated a couple of fair-sized rooms -to her girls. The coming of Austin Morland, who, though only in his -twelfth year, had a certain talent for leadership, had waked up the -boys’ schoolroom, and plans for the summer holidays had been more -ambitious than usual. - -Frances could not do anything striking for the girls’ schoolrooms at -present, since they were shut, and their presiding genius was away from -home. But Austin’s sister, finding herself welcomed in a fashion which -showed how unstinted had been Austin’s recommendations, was determined -to do her best to justify his loyalty. She was soon the happy potentate -of an acquiescent kingdom, and honestly anxious to make good use of -her unexpected influence. Besides being the leader in every frolic, -she tried to interest herself in everybody’s hobbies and everybody’s -fancies. - -Most of her new friends belonged to one or other of the many juvenile -organizations which now make a real effort--whose value may be -appreciated by social economists of a later date--to concern themselves -in the welfare of the poor and suffering. Frances had caught from her -elder comrades at Haversfield a girlish enthusiasm for this kind of -toil. She threw herself warmly into the diversions of Florry Fane’s -set--who could understand poetry, dabble in oil and water colours, and -write stories. She dressed dolls for Betty Turner’s hospital box, she -collected butterflies and beetles with Guy Gordon, she studied rabbits -with Frank Temple, she joined the Children’s Orchestra and was a great -admirer of the First Violin. - -But the best of Frances’s heart went into her promised alliance with -Max Brenton. Max was the blithest boy in all Woodend, by far the -busiest and the most popular. Even Austin Morland, bright of face and -gay of manner as was the lad, could not, and would not, have stepped -into the place filled by Max. Meet the Doctor’s son when and where you -might, you were bound to feel happier for having done so. - -Elveley was the largest house in Woodend proper; it possessed ample -garden ground, and neat outbuildings in the rear. Its possessor had -usually been the person of most importance in the village, and thus -the coming of the new owner had been awaited with curiosity. Mrs. -Morland had been at some pains to send in advance her credentials as -to family and position. She was a woman who placed extravagant value -on social esteem, and she had voluntarily stunted her intelligence and -narrowed her views for fear of perilling her own prestige by shocking -any antique prejudice in her neighbours. She had not much sympathy with -the special affairs of childhood; but when she turned aside from her -individual interests to see how matters went with her boy and girl, she -generally found reason for complacency. - -Now that she had settled in Woodend, it was in harmony with her wishes -and instincts that Frances should be to the girls such a leader as -Mrs. Morland had become to their elders, and that Austin’s careless -good-humour should assure his popularity. If her children had been -dull and commonplace, she would have felt herself an injured person. -Because they were neither, she was ready to be indulgent and compliant. -They had plenty of pocket-money, and were seldom refused a petition; -and though they rarely spent with their mother more than an hour or -so in the day, their food and clothing were carefully attended to by -responsible people, and their education was the best within reach. -Frances and Austin were not aware that they missed anything; and they -nourished for their mother a love which, if it depended rather on -tradition than on fact, was sufficiently real to make their home dear -and fairly bright. - -The big playroom in Mrs. Morland’s delightful old house soon became -the headquarters of every juvenile institution. Cricket, football, and -tennis clubs kept their archives in its table-drawers; its shelves -harboured a choice lending-library, contributed to by every owner of a -story-book; its corners saw the hatching of every plot, harmless or -mischievous. Further, it was within its walls that Frances--intent at -first only on aiding Max, but with wider ambition by and by--founded -and maintained her prosperous club, the Woodend Society of Altruists. - -“I hope the name is fine enough,” remarked Austin critically. - -“You don’t think it sounds priggish?” inquired Frances in alarm. “It’s -what the Haversfield girls called their club, and I thought we might -just copy.” - -“Of course, it’s a first-rate name,” declared Max kindly. - -“What are Altruists?” asked in humble tones a small and rosy-cheeked -boy. - -“They are only people who try to help others,” replied Frances; and -this simple explanation, given with a gentle sincerity of voice and -manner, seemed to satisfy everybody. Indeed, everybody present at a -fairly representative meeting of the Woodend young folks became an -Altruist on the spot. - -“What have we got to do?” said the rosy-cheeked boy anxiously. - -“Sign our names in the book of the Society and keep the rules,” said -Florry Fane. “Frances must sign hers first, because she’s the founder -of the club.” - -“Florry and I have written down the rules we thought might do,” said -Frances modestly, “Florry is going to read them out, and then if any -boy or girl will suggest improvements we shall be very much obliged.” - -But nobody wished to improve the excellent rules drawn up by Frances -and Florry. The words in which the Altruist Code was expressed were -few, and so well chosen that no careless member could pretend either to -have forgotten or to have misunderstood. - -In becoming an Altruist everybody undertook to do his or her very -best to lighten the loads of dwellers within or without the gates of -happy Woodend homes. This was an ambitiously comprehensive scheme, -but nothing less thorough would suit Frances and her allies. Nor did -they intend that their new club should exist only on paper; and so -their rules provided that by appropriate deeds alone could a continued -membership be ensured. - -The boys and girls were so truly in want of a fresh sensation to give -zest to their holiday hours that they were in some danger of riding -their new hobby-horse to death. The Altruists grew in number and -flourished exceedingly. They found their parents ready with approval -and support; and when they had passed through an embryo stage of rash -philanthropic excitement, they settled down into a capital club, whose -motto of “Help Others” was something more than a vain boast. Of course -the new Society must have funds--how otherwise provide for necessary -outlay? Members loyally sacrificed a percentage of pocket-money, which -was liberally reinforced--at the instigation of Mrs. Morland--by adult -subscriptions. The mothers of young Altruists searched their cupboards -for old linen, blankets, and clothing, wherewith to start the Society’s -stores. The fathers promised that appeals for fruit and flowers should -have their best consideration. Dr. Brenton sent word through Max that -he would accept as a “gratis” patient any sick person tended and -cared for by an Altruist. Mrs. Morland, well pleased that Frances -should enjoy the prestige owing to a founder, sent for a carpenter, and -desired him to make any alterations the children might order, with the -view of rendering their playroom satisfactory Headquarters for their -club. - -As soon as the Carlyons came home, Muriel was waited on by a deputation -of her girls, who wanted her to be Honorary President of the Altruists. -Miss Carlyon was very ready to agree, and to give Frances credit for a -really bright idea. - -“I don’t see why your club shouldn’t do ever such great things for the -Woodend poor folk,” declared Muriel warmly. “I shall be proud to be one -of you, and so will my brother; and you must count on us for all the -help we can give.” - -“Oh, Miss Carlyon!” said Frances shyly, “we thought perhaps we might -just help _you_--a little.” - -“We’ll help each other, dear. And then we shall be Altruists among -ourselves. I can assure you, I think, besides being useful, we shall be -very jolly.” - -And so it proved. None of the club meetings were more spirited or -more mirthful than those at which the Honorary President made her -appearance; and the frequent presence of Edward Carlyon encouraged -his boys to stand firmly by the Society, and to lose all fear that -they were “benevolent prigs”, as they had been called by Jack Shorter. -Jack was the only one of Carlyon’s boys who had possessed sufficient -unamiability to remain outside the club. At last, finding himself -sent to Coventry, Jack repented and became an embarrassingly active -Altruist. - -When the Wood Bank schoolrooms opened their doors for the autumn -term, it was discovered that the Carlyons intended their support to -be anything but “honorary”. They had fitted up a large basement room -as a workshop for various handicrafts, and there the boys and girls -learned to make all sorts of things for the Society’s stores. Out of -doors, a shed held all kinds of necessary tools, and the young folks -studied practical gardening, with intent to aid such villagers as might -own neglected plots. Sewing-meetings produced a wonderful collection -of garments, new and renovated, which helped to fill Frances’s -clothing-cupboard. The juvenile choir and orchestra made free offers -of their services; and lads and lassies with a talent for “reading and -recitation” were in enormous request. - -Frances’s days were busy and happy. She enjoyed her school-work -with Muriel Carlyon, a teacher of the class to which she had grown -accustomed at Haversfield. Muriel’s system of teaching was not without -originality; and her love of outdoor occupations hindered her from -possessing the traditional characteristics of a blue-stocking. Her -brother Edward was a muscular, well-built young Englishman, whose -college triumphs had not prevented respectable attainments with scull -and bat. The Carlyons took a lively interest in their pupils, whom they -treated and trained with a success which would have astonished primmer -pedagogues. Their boys and girls trooped to school together, and often -measured wits or muscles in their class-rooms or their play-grounds. -Thus their friendships were closer and more sympathetic than those of -lads and lassies usually are. They learned to appreciate one another’s -tastes and dispositions, and to sacrifice individual whims to the -common good. - -Autumn drifted into winter with the coming of a bleak November. -Football and hockey were in full swing in the playing-fields. The -little ones had built their first snow-man; and the rubbing and oiling -of skates followed careful studies of the barometer. The youngsters -were now in some danger of forgetting the duties of their Society. -Their time had suddenly assumed an incalculable value. - -It was at this stage of affairs that Max Brenton one day made his -appearance at the door of the club-room, wherein sat Frances busily -posting up the Society’s accounts. - -“If you please,” began Max in a great hurry, “may I have a blanket, two -flannel petticoats, a three-year-old frock, and a pair of very large -old boots?” - -Frances wrinkled her forehead. “I’m sorry we have no flannel petticoats -left, owing to a great demand. I can manage the other things, except -the boots. We are quite out of very large boots. Couldn’t one of you -boys learn shoemaking?” - -“I fancy that would be a little rough on the village cobbler.” - -“But the cobbler will do nothing he is not paid for; and poor folks -cannot always pay. It would be very useful to have a shoemaker of our -very own. We could buy our leather and make it into enormous boots. -Gentleman-boots are really hardly any good to us.” - -“That’s true. But, please, may I have the things? And I will try my -best to persuade somebody to learn shoemaking.” - -Frances rose, and stepped thoughtfully towards her cupboard. Thence, -after some searching, she extracted a tiny garment of crimson serge, -warmly lined and neatly finished. To this she added two pairs of -knitted socks of the same cheerful hue. - -“Oh, I say!” exclaimed Max, radiant. “May I really have these awfully -swell things? You girls are bricks!” - -“You boys helped to buy the stuff. I’m glad you like the colour,” -continued Frances graciously, “because at the last sewing-meeting of -our Society we decided that for the future all the clothing we make -shall be scarlet or crimson, if it can be. It was Florry Fane’s idea. -She said it would be ‘the badge of all our tribe’. We shall be able to -tell our pensioners the moment we see them. For instance, next time I -meet the little child who is to have this frock, I shall think, ‘There -goes an Altruist baby!’” - -“I see. And next time I come across a hoary old chap to whom you’ve -given a crimson comforter, I shall say, ‘There goes an Altruist -antediluvian!’” - -“Well,” laughed Frances, “suppose you do? You’ll allow that our colour -is becoming. It’s bright and picturesque; and by and by, when we’ve -given away lots of crimson things, think how gay Woodend will look.” - -“Oh, it will! As soon as a visitor reaches the favoured spot, he’ll -cry, ‘Hullo! here’s an Altruist village!’” - -“I hope he may. Now, tell me whom these things are for, because I must -put the names down in our clothing book.” - -Max, remembering certain private labours of his own, gazed in -admiration at Frances’s neat records. - -“The frock is for Polly Baker, child of Joseph Baker, a dweller in -Lumber’s Yard, and sometime a tiller of the fields.” - -Frances paused, her pen uplifted, and a serious expression on her face. - -“But, Max, Miss Carlyon says the Altruists oughtn’t to help people -who won’t help themselves. That Joseph Baker is a lazy, selfish, -good-for-nothing.” - -“I know the gentleman. You’ve described him mildly.” - -“And Mr. Carlyon has got him work over and over again, but he always -loses it.” - -“No wonder, the drunken scamp!” muttered Max under his breath. - -“He is as bad as he can be.” - -“True, dear Madam Altruist. But that isn’t the fault of his daughter -Polly, aged three.” - -“Still, if Baker finds he can get his children fed and clothed for -nothing, he will go on spending all his money in that dreadful inn in -Lumber’s Yard.” - -“He will go on doing that anyhow. Mr. Carlyon isn’t easily beaten, but -he has given up Joseph Baker, Esquire. Meanwhile, Baker’s children -would starve if it were not for charity. Frances, Polly is such a game -little thing! You wouldn’t believe how she stands up to her brute of a -father when she sees him ill-treat her mother. I’ve delivered her out -of Baker’s clutches more than once.” - -Frances gazed at the speaker, her eyes widely-opened and horrified. - -“Max! You don’t mean he would hurt that baby?” - -“Wouldn’t he? Doesn’t he, if he gets the chance? He’s a--a--beast! Beg -pardon!” - -“It’s fearful!” sighed Frances, pausing perforce on the threshold -of the social problem which had risen before her. “He ought to be -punished.” - -“He will be, when I’m big enough to thrash him,” murmured Max; and -Frances turned a face flushed with sympathy to this chivalrous lad. -“But don’t let us punish our Altruist baby.” - -“Oh, Max! When you wheedle--,” said the Altruist secretary, shaking -her head. “Here are your things, and you must be responsible. Now, in -return for your pleasant news about Baker, I’ll tell you something -really nice. I have added up our funds, and I find we have quite a lot -of money; so I am getting ready a list of ‘wants’, and to-morrow we -will have a shopping expedition. We girls shall need large supplies -of scarlet flannel and crimson serge to make into clothing for our -Christmas presents. You boys are sure to require things for your -workshops. We will take the pony-carriage and drive into Exham. As -to-morrow will be Saturday, not many Altruists will care to leave the -playing-fields; but you will come, won’t you, Max?” - -“If Dad doesn’t want me.” - -“And there will be Austin and Florry--four of us. You and Austin can -get the things for your own work while Florry and I buy yards and yards -of flannel and serge and calico.” - -“Will there be room for us boys in the trap coming home?” inquired Max -meekly. “I’d like to know whether, if the cargo weighs down the pony, -you mean to sacrifice us or the flannel?” - -“You, of course!” - -“Then I’d better bring provisions for camping out. There’s a fall of -the barometer, and all the village weather-prophets tell me we are to -have snow; besides, there’s some rough road between here and Exham. -Look out for storms to-morrow, Frances! Now, I’ll be off with my booty. -Baker sold to a fellow-cad the last frock I begged for Polly; but I’ll -dare him to touch this beauty. Keep your eyes open, and they’ll be -gladdened by the sight of the Altruist baby!” - -Max went away happy. All his father’s poor patients enjoyed his -personal attentions, and not a few considered the Doctor’s son as good -an adviser as the Doctor himself. Max tried to be discreet, but his -boyish habit of telling the unvarnished truth to any village sneak or -bully sometimes brought him into awkward predicaments. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -ADVENTURERS FOUR. - - -Surely only youth and health would look forward with glorious -anticipations to a five-mile drive on a bitter winter day, in a little -open carriage! - -The four adventurous Altruists were certain they were going to enjoy -themselves, and no sooner were they fairly on their way than they began -to justify their own predictions. For the sake of extra excitement, -they took it in turns to drive; but it was impossible for them to take -it in turns to talk, so they all chattered at once. This did not help -the driving, which was mixed in character. Nobody could quite tell, as -the ribbons changed hands, what might be the next diversion; and, of -course, this uncertainty was the best part of the fun. At last the pony -settled, under the capable guidance of Florry, into a steady trot; and -the Altruists settled, at the same propitious moment, into a steady -discussion of their proposed Christmas feast for the Woodend villagers. - -This feast had been for some weeks under consideration at the Society’s -meetings, and the arrangement of its details was far advanced. The -Altruists intended that it should be a grand manifesto of their -good-will to all the working-folk. - -“We are to have a present for everybody,” declared Austin loudly, “and -we boys must do our share. I am making my third stool. No one can say -that stools are not useful things in cottages.” - -“But they will not furnish a house,” objected Max; “and I want very -badly a complete rig-out for a two-roomed shanty. I have a man on my -list who was sold up last week by his Jew of a landlord--old Fenn. Poor -Johnson was a decent chap, but when they turned him out he just went to -the bad.” - -“He can’t have gone very far in a week,” remarked Austin, who had not -taken kindly the allusion to his handiwork. - -“He went to Fenn’s Home Farm, and tried to burn the ricks. Fortunately -he didn’t succeed; and when Dad heard he was to be taken up, we went -and begged Johnson off. We’re going bail for him, that if they’ll let -him alone he’ll keep straight; and Dad has got him some rough work in -the gardens. But his wife and child had to go to the workhouse; and now -the idea is to start them all afresh in one of Ventnor’s little places. -They’ll want only a few things to begin with. What do you say, Frances? -Shall we give him one of Austin’s stools for a Christmas-box?” - -“Something else as well,” said Frances, beaming on her ally. - -“I don’t mind making him an extra big stool, which might do for a -table,” said Austin graciously. - -“Guy is mending-up some old chairs,” said Frances. - -“Mamma will let me have one of her patchwork-carpets,” said Florry. -“She makes them out of odd pieces begged from friends, and they are -quite warm and cheerful.” - -“Mrs. Temple offered me an old bedstead and bedding only the other -day,” cried Frances. “How fortunate for poor Johnson! I’ll ask Mamma -for a chest of drawers.” - -“And the Altruists as a body can easily produce a ‘harlequin’ set of -plates and cups and dishes,” said Florry. - -“I have some spare pots and pans in my stores,” added Frances proudly. -“I declare, Max, your friend sha’n’t wait till Christmas to set up -housekeeping!” - -“You are all awfully kind,” said Max gratefully. The boy’s eyes were -actually moist, and he hung his head; but in a moment had recovered -sufficiently to shout in vigorous crescendo: - -“Your reins are crossed, Florry! Mercy on us, we’re in the ditch!” - -They were not quite there, thanks to the pony’s objections to lead the -way. Rough pulled his head free indignantly, and was allowed to steer -his own course in peace. - -The Altruist quartette presently arrived safely in Exham. Max, who was -then the whip, made for a respectable inn, where the travellers left -the much-enduring Rough to take a rest, while they attended to business. - -“Ladies, do we have the honour of accompanying you?” asked Austin, with -a grand bow; “or do we go off on our own hook?” - -“As though we would take you two imps into shops with us!” said -Frances. “Go and buy your things and we’ll get ours, then we can meet -at Thorn’s and have tea. Thorn is our confectioner, and Mamma said we -might order what we liked.” - -“Good for Mater,” chuckled Austin. “But in the meantime, can you girls -really do without us?” - -“We’ll try to,” said Frances severely; “and mind you scamps keep out of -mischief. Come on, Florry.” - -The girls linked arms and marched off, affecting the superior and -independent airs so tantalizing to the best of boys. Max and Austin -watched their departure with mischievous eyes. - -“They’re too cocky for anything,” declared Austin. - -“I believe they’ll buy up all the red stuff in Exham,” said Max. -“Observe the lofty tilt of Florry’s head. Mark the aggressive decision -of Frances’s step. They’ll conquer or die!” - -“I say, Max,” giggled irreverent Austin, “let’s tag on to them a bit. -Our shopping won’t be a scrap of fun. We’ve just to leave an order at -the timber-yard, and call in at the ironmonger’s for nails and screws -and a few other things. Frances has disappeared into that big draper’s, -and there goes Florry after her. Let’s get through our timber business, -and then have a lark with the girls. We’ll make the counter-Johnnies -sit up.” - -“Won’t Frances be wild?” - -“Not she!--come on, Max!” Away went the pair, arm in arm, with the -mincing steps they intended as an imitation of their comrades’ sedate -town manners. - -Frances could bear a good deal, but her soul quailed when her eyes -lighted on the figures of the two boys stealing up the shop in -the wake of a frock-coated person, of whom they had just inquired -where they should discover “the young ladies who were buying up the -establishment’s entire stock of red flannel”. - -“We have not yet finished our business,” remarked Austin, while he -seated himself with easy grace on an offered chair; “but we could not -resist peeping in as we passed to see how you girls were getting on.” - -“We have not finished either,” said Frances, regarding her brother’s -demure face uneasily. “We have bought our crimson serge and our calico, -but we still want scarlet flannel and red knitting-wool. Also tapes, -buttons, hooks, cottons, and needles.” - -“I have bought a bradawl and a pound of French nails,” said Austin -gravely. “I am yet in need of a yard-measure, a few miles of string, -some boot-buttons, a shaving-strop, and a packet of tin-tacks.” - -“For my part,” said Max, “I require a lawn-mower, a type-writer, a -bottle of blacking, and a pork-pie.” - -“With these few necessaries,” added Austin, “we hope to complete the -persecuted Johnson’s start in housekeeping. And--Timbuctoo! I’d nearly -forgotten his wife’s mangle!” - -“A stool and a blanket to be thrown in promiscuous,” said Max; “and a -few yards of crimson stuff for a table-cover would be received with -thanks. Ah! and we have secured a very nice jam-pot for an ink-bottle. -Further suggestions gratefully acknowledged.” - -“When you boys try to be funny the result is sad,” said Frances, -feeling her dignity compromised by the mirth on the cadaverous -countenance of the shop-assistant, who had left off serving her in -order to appreciate the young gentlemen’s sallies. “Come, Florry,” -continued the ruffled damsel, “let’s try Mason’s for the flannel: Miss -Carlyon said it was good there.” - -The petrified assistant, seeing that the stern eyes of a superior -hard-by were fixed on him, glanced appealingly at the boys, but Miss -Morland kept sedately on her path to the door. - -“Won’t he get a wigging!” laughed unrepentant Austin, following humbly -in the rear. “I say, Max, this establishment will lose the Altruist -custom. I back Mason’s for scarlet flannel!” - -But Max was inclined to think the joke weak, and positively refused to -peril the receipts of the draper across the road. Instead, he dragged -off Austin to transact legitimate business; and the ironmonger had the -benefit of their wit and wisdom for the next few minutes. - -The girls were chattering briskly as they came out of Mason’s. - -“It was a splendid bargain,” declared Frances, who, as an administrator -of charity funds, had taken her first lessons in economy. “Fifty yards -of scarlet flannel for fifty shillings! Did you see what a heap more -they had of it? The man said it was ‘a manufacturer’s stock’.” - -“I love manufacturers’ stocks!” ejaculated Florry. - -“So do I, when they’re Altruist flannel,” said Frances fervently. “Now -we had better go to meet the boys at Thorn’s. Poor boys! they have had -no delicious bargains. Perhaps it is a little dull buying nails. I wish -I hadn’t been huffy with Austin; boys hate prim, fussy sisters. I’ll -tell you what, Florry, we’ll make it up to the poor things. We shall -get first to Thorn’s, and we’ll order all the goodies they like best. -Max prefers jam-sandwiches, and Austin likes méringues; and they’re -both fearfully fond of very plummy cake. Thorn’s cake is capital.” - -The girls walked on rapidly, and made, as they went, plans for the -sumptuous entertainment of the boys. - -“We’ll heap coals of fire on their heads,” said Florry. “They will be -torn by an anguished repentance. Here we are. Look at those lovely -chocolates in the window!” - -“Let’s have loads of chocolates.” - -“I like chocolate-almonds the best,” said Florry pensively; “they are -superb.” - -“The boys like toffy and hardbake and Turkish-delight. Do you know, -Florry, I read in a tiresome book that the real Turkish-delight isn’t -a bit like the English one! Wasn’t it horrid of the author to say so? -I’ve never really enjoyed it since.” - -“It was cruel.” - -“And both Max and Austin love Scotch shortbread.” - -“Perhaps Scotch shortbread isn’t a bit like the English.” - -“It isn’t,” said Frances contemptuously; “but you can get the real -thing at Thorn’s. Let’s go in. I don’t see the boys anywhere, so we -shall have time to order a beautiful tea for them--jam-sandwiches, and -méringues, and plummy cake, and shortbread, and toffy, and hardbake, -and Turkish-delight. Oh! and Bath-buns and gingerbread. I should like a -little bread-and-butter. The boys think it is not worth while to have -any bread-and-butter when they are out for a lark.” - -Frances pushed open the glass door and entered. “Florry,” she -whispered, “do make haste into the side-room and secure the nicest -table. Stay! I’ll come too; and if we lay a few parcels down nobody -will steal our chairs. We must have the table next the window, it’s -such fun watching the carriages and people in the street. We can come -back to do our ordering.” - -The girls advanced boldly to take by storm (if necessary) the chosen -spot. - -“Oh! I say! What--!” - -The most popular table in Thorn’s private tea-room was already -occupied. On two of the four chairs in front of it sat Max and Austin, -bolt upright, their countenances wearing an expression of almost -seraphic calm. The table was covered with good things. The girls -looked, and saw jam-sandwiches, méringues, plum-cake, shortbread, -Bath-buns, gingerbread, and a little--a very little--bread-and-butter. -Glass sweetmeat dishes contained chocolate-creams, chocolate-almonds, -toffy, hardbake, and Turkish-delight. Max mounted guard over a laden -tea-tray. - -No sooner did they behold the astonished faces of their comrades than -the boys rose, and with their finest company manners offered the best -places to the girls. - -“Ladies,” said Austin, “we hurried here that we might have time to -order a most beautiful tea for you. We have done our utmost. You -see before you all the goodies you like best; and we have not even -forgotten that Frances has a weakness for bread-and-butter.” - -“Or that Florry adores chocolate-almonds.” - -“We wished to show you,” said Austin, “that we bear no malice.” - -“We wished,” said Max, “to heap coals of fire on your heads.” - - * * * * * - -The November day had drawn on to dusk before Frances could persuade -herself and the others that it was time to start for home. The boys -were despatched to fetch the pony-carriage, and requested to call on -their way back for the biggest parcels, which would be awaiting them -at the drapers’ shops. Frances and Florry summoned a smiling waitress, -and asked her to fill some bags with the numerous goodies left from the -feast. - -“For the boys are sure to be hungry again before we reach home,” said -Frances. “Snow has been falling for the last hour; and we shall have to -drive cautiously along the country lanes, they are so dark. And poor -Rough is not properly shod for the snow yet.” - -The girls, with their bags and parcels, were standing ready at the door -of the confectioners, and looking out with amused and interested faces -as the boys drove up. - -“I say,” cried Max, “it’s a good thing we brought lots of rugs and -wraps--we’re in for a storm.” - -“Really a storm, Max?” inquired Frances, feeling that she ought to -provide prudence for the party. “Do you think we shall get home all -right with just Rough? Oughtn’t we to leave him here and hire a proper -horse and carriage from the hotel?” - -“It might be safer,” admitted Max, “but it would be awfully slow.” - -“I’m going to drive Rough,” said Austin promptly, “come with me who -will.” - -“I will,” cried Florry, whose eyes sparkled at the prospect of the -mildest adventure. - -“I’ll go with Frances,” said Max quietly. - -“We’ll all go together,” decided Frances, satisfied with her virtuous -suggestion. “Max had better drive, though; he knows the roads so well.” - -The four packed themselves and their parcels tightly into the trap. -Rough was already tossing his head in disgust with the rapidly-falling -snow-flakes, which were driven by a bitter north wind into his eyes and -ears, half-blinding him, and tickling him unpleasantly. The boys had -proposed that the girls should take the front seat, because they would -then have the wind behind them; but Frances insisted on giving her -place to Austin, who was subject, when he caught cold, to a bad kind of -sore throat. - -The snow, which in the streets of Exham partially melted on the ground, -already lay thickly on the country roads, where it froze as it fell. -The pony-carriage had hardly turned into the narrow lanes leading in -the direction of Woodend before the youngsters found that the storm, -prophesied by Max, was on them. The snow was hurled at their heads by a -cutting blast, which flung the heavy white flakes into deep drifts at -the sides of the roads most exposed to it. The pace had to be very slow -and the driving very careful; but Max’s attention was lured from his -duty as charioteer when the merry talk of his companions invited him to -join their discussions. The quartette were still warm and cosy among -their rugs, and they were enjoying the faint trace of danger which gave -zest to their adventurous journey. - -Rough was not enjoying himself at all. The boys had strapped a small -blanket over him, but this was not much of a protection from a winter -storm. At length he came to a full stop at the foot of a hill, which he -greatly objected to tackle with a carriage-load behind him. The young -people took the hint, and sprang out. They were in a sheltered road, -with trees overhead; but half-way up the hill some branches, brittle -with frost, were snapped by the gale and blown down into the lane. One -of the boughs struck Frances, another fell on Rough. Neither girl nor -pony was hurt, but both might have been. - -“Hallo!” called out Max, “that was no joke! I have known serious -accidents from falling branches. We had better avoid these lanes -bordered by great trees, and choose the more open roads. You know there -are two ways to Woodend. The one by Rowdon Common is a little further -round, but it will be safer both for Rough and for us.” - -“Then we’ll take it,” said Frances; “for though you might get on all -right without me if another bough came in my direction, I don’t know -how you would manage without Rough.” - -They climbed the rest of the hill, and then again settled themselves -in the trap. A little further on, Max took the turning whence he could -guide Rough home by the longer route. And now troubles began to descend -on our Altruists. First, Rough turned sulky, and tried to loiter, -refusing to respond heartily even when the whole quartette shouted -encouragement; because he knew very well the quickest route to Woodend. -Next, the carriage-candles began to flicker in a manner promising -speedy extinction. - -“Goodness!” murmured Austin, when this second fact was obvious to the -party. “The stable-boy told me the candles were very short, and wanted -to put in new ones; but I was in such a hurry, I said they would just -do.” - -There was a chorus of reproachful groans. - -“Suppose we put out one of the lights?” suggested sensible Florry. “If -we burn the two separately, they’ll last longer.” - -Even this ingenious resource did not greatly prolong the time during -which the pony and Max were able to see their way. When the second -candle failed him, the driver pulled up, and peered forward into the -darkness. - -“If you could see me, my friends,” he remarked ruefully, “you would -notice that I am looking serious.” - -“Then perhaps it’s just as well that the light of your countenance has -gone out with the candles, Max,” said Florry. “If you could see us, you -would know that we are not particularly cheerful.” - -“Oh, come!” cried Austin, “let’s keep up our spirits somehow. What are -you going to do, Max?” - -“Lead Rough!” laughed the other boy. “I ought to know ‘every foot -of the ground’, as people say; but it’s only when folks are out in -a blinding snowstorm on a pitch-dark evening that they discover the -shakiness of their geography. However, I know we must soon turn to the -right, and then keep on straight up another hill to Rowdon Common. Our -road borders the Common for half a mile, and then branches off downhill -again. Once we are clear of the Common, we shall be all right.” - -They were not to reach that condition very easily. Max led Rough -onward, and found the necessary turning to the right; and along the -uphill road the youngsters all walked, to lighten the pony’s burden, -until Frances took alarm on Austin’s account. After much persuasion -she induced the boy to get back into the trap, and Florry to go with -him to spare his pride. She and Max trudged on side by side. Presently -both observed that Rough showed signs of distress. Though close to -the little animal they could hardly see him, but they could hear his -laboured breathing. - -“Hallo! he is going rather lame,” said Max. “Surely he can’t have had -a stone in his shoe all this time? We’ll stop and find out.... Why! -this is worse than a stone--he has lost a shoe!” - -There was nothing to be done now, except to let the pony go at his own -pace, and keep him to the side of the road where the snow lay thinnest. -At a very leisurely rate the party journeyed up the remainder of the -hill, Rough stumbling badly every now and then. - -“Here we are, at last!” sighed Max, as the road again became level, and -the increased severity of the storm, reaching them across the high, -open country, told the travellers that they were on the edge of Rowdon -Common. “We have a rough stone wall on one side of us now, and a pretty -wide ditch on the other; so we must jog along carefully.” - -Max and Frances both decided to go on walking; and Florry, after -whispering persuasions to Austin, joined them, in order to relieve -Rough a little more. - -Poor Austin’s temper suffered from his indignation at this attempt -on the girls’ part to “coddle” him. The liveliest recollections of -his latest bad throat never sufficed to keep him out of danger if -he possibly could get into it. Max and his companions just then -halted for a moment under lee of the wall, intending to give Rough a -breathing-time; and Austin, in a fit of impatience, seized the reins as -they hung loose, and tugged them heedlessly. - -The culprit’s ill-temper vanished as he and the trap and the pony -swerved all together and turned clean over into the ditch, now -half-covered by a deep drift. Frances and the others, in the better -light of the open ground, saw the rapid movement of the little -carriage, and for an instant held their breath; then peals of laughter -from Austin assured them that he was safe, and the three rushed to the -rescue. - -Austin pulled himself out of the snow, and wriggled from Frances’s -grasp. - -“I’m all right, Sis; don’t worry! Damp? Oh, well, not particularly. I’m -going to help Max to get Rough on his legs. This is rough on Rough, -isn’t it? Ho, ho!” - -But Frances, who knew that her brother was something more than “damp”, -could hardly speak. Her sufferings were far greater than the patient’s -when Austin had quinsy; and she blamed herself bitterly for not -insisting on the obviously prudent course she had suggested in Exham. -A strong carriage and sturdy horse would long ago have conveyed the -quartette safely to Woodend; and now here they were, up on the Common, -exposed to the force of the storm, and with no prospect of speedy -escape. Austin would be certain to take cold if his damp clothes were -not soon dried. The poor pony, after his fall and fright, would surely -be quite disabled. - -Indeed, Rough, when again on his feet, stood shivering and snorting, -and positively refused to move further. - -“I’m afraid he’s used up,” said Max anxiously; “and I think--really I -do--that we shall be in the same plight if we try to struggle against -the storm. The wind is a perfect hurricane up here, and freezingly -cold. Girls, I believe we had better spread our macintoshes on the -snow, roll up in our rugs, and bivouac in the shelter of the wall. It -is so low it will not protect us unless we squat on the ground.” - -The youngsters were all in agreement, and at once set to work to carry -out Max’s plan. The macintoshes were spread, the carriage-cushions -fetched to provide seats, the parcels were ranged to act as “cover” on -the exposed side, rugs and wraps were dealt out to everybody, and the -bags of “goodies” were thankfully seized. While Austin and the girls -finished the camp, Max laid the thick skin carriage-mat along Rough’s -back, fastened it round him with his own blanket, and led the pony -close up to the wall. - -The buns and cakes were distributed by Frances, who had no heart to -eat, but knew that moaning over Austin would not help him. He was -wedged in tightly between the girls, and submitted like a lamb to be -enveloped in wraps. Max took the outside place, and fed Rough with -biscuits. - -In spite of all precautions, the little group grew colder and damper; -in spite of the most energetic attempts at cheerfulness, their spirits -sank lower. The storm showed no signs of abating. While the youngsters -were slowly being forced to recognize that their position was not only -uncomfortable but perilous, a strong though flickering light, as of a -powerful lantern swayed by the wind, was seen approaching them along -the road from the direction of Woodend. The four watched it with keen -eagerness. It came nearer--came close. It was a lantern, indeed, fixed -to the front of a great hooded waggon drawn by two powerful horses. - -The pony-carriage still lay half in, half out of the ditch. Max sprang -to his feet and ran forward to warn the waggoner, who, having caught -sight of the obstructions in his path, was already drawing up by the -wall. The man was known to Max as a servant employed by a big farmer of -the neighbourhood, and the boy lost no time in shouting to the amazed -driver a cheery greeting and a peremptory demand for help out of his -own dilemma. Not many words were needed. Job Benson recognized Max, and -was quite willing to aid him and his companions. - -Max rushed back to the others. - -“Hurry, Austin! Up with you, girls! Here’s relief for the garrison at -last! This waggoner is going to Rowdon Smithy before turning across -country to his master’s farm; and he says he will take us as far as the -smithy, where we shall get safe shelter until we’ve a chance to make -our way home. We’ll tether Rough to the waggon, and the sight of his -fellow-gees will encourage him to follow them. We must leave the trap -in the ditch till to-morrow. Now let’s make haste, or the horses won’t -stand.” - -Rugs and shawls and bundles were grasped by the willing hands of the -rescued travellers. Into the great waggon and its welcome shelter -climbed the girls and boys as best they could, while the good-natured -driver offered everybody a helping hand and heartily bade the whole -troop welcome. - -“I know the old man at the smithy,” said Max to his comrades, “and I’m -sure he’ll give us a rest and a warm. Dad’s attending him just now; -nothing much wrong but old age, you know. His name is William East, and -he has a grandson, Jim, who is no end of a nice chap.” - -The waggon followed a road across the Common for a time, and then, -turning down a lane to lower ground, touched one of the country roads -to Exham. Standing level with the road, a little back among a group of -trees, were the cottage and outbuildings of Rowdon Smithy. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -ROWDON SMITHY. - - -Though the four youngsters fancied that they had been wandering for -hours in the cold and darkness, the time of their relief was early in -the evening. Work was not yet over for somebody at the smithy. The -forge was set up in a large building, which looked a sort of superior -shed, open on the side next to the road, and with a paved court, worn -by the tread of many horses, in front of it. Gazing across the unwalled -court to the open shed, Frances saw in the brilliant light of the -smithy fire a young man busily engaged with hammer and anvil; his tall, -slight figure, in rough working dress, bent and raised with almost -mechanical precision as his supple right arm swung its ponderous tool. -When the lumbering waggon halted before the court, the worker paused in -his labour, throwing back his head and screening his eyes with his free -left hand, to gain a better view of the arrival. The waggoner called -out a hasty summons, and the young smith left his forge and quickly -crossed the yard. - -“Anything wrong, Job?” - -The lad’s voice was clear and soft, and his speech, though rustic in -expression, conveyed no trace of dialect; while his face, now plainly -visible in the lantern’s glow, appeared a singularly pleasant one. Its -attraction increased when Max’s lively countenance was thrust forward -by its owner, and when Max shouted a gay greeting. - -“Hallo, Jim!--Jim East! Look out for a sensation! Here’s a snowed-up -party of four humans and one animal come to beg help and shelter!” - -Max had jumped down and was pouring out explanations in a moment. The -young smith listened and looked, and shyly doffed his cap, standing -bare-headed in the driving snow while his eyes rested in astonishment -on the figures of the two girls. - -“The little ladies!” murmured Jim; “they’ve never been with you, Master -Brenton?” - -“Haven’t they, though! They’ve found out what a snowstorm on Rowdon -Common means, I can tell you. But I’m afraid they are very cold and -tired,” added Max seriously. “I was beginning to think it was all up -with us when I first caught sight of Job. Well, Jim, will you help us?” - -“Surely!” exclaimed the lad. - -Though evidently bashful, Jim East had nothing clownish about him. -His manner showed a simple courtesy which pleased and reassured the -girl-travellers, as he stepped close to the waggon and held up his -strong, lithe arms. - -“Come, Missies, let me lift you down, and show you the way to -grandfather’s cottage. ’Tis but a step; and our old Elizabeth, if she’s -there, shall wait on you. You’ll be sorely stiff with the terrible -cold.” - -The girls willingly accepted the young smith’s offered aid, and were -placed with gentle care at Max’s side. - -“Young master too?” suggested Jim, seeing Austin still above him. - -“Oh, I can get down all right,” said Austin, not too civilly. Austin -did not appear to advantage when brought by circumstances into contact -with the class he chose to term “cads”. “Here, you chap, just catch -this baggage, will you? We’ve no end of traps. I’ll throw them down.” - -Frances blushed with sisterly mortification--why would Austin be so -rude and snobbish to this worthy young artisan? Surely Jim East was -a type of those whose humble toil was the crown of honest manhood. -Certainly Austin was not a model member of the Woodend Society of -Altruists. But glancing apprehensively at young East, lest her -brother’s imperious commands should make him surly and indignant, -Frances saw that the lad’s countenance revealed nothing but frank -good-nature. He gave Austin a smiling reply, and would have obeyed him -without question, had not Max laid a hand on his arm. - -“Not a bit, Jim! I’ll see to the baggage. Do you get the girls under -cover as quickly as you can, there’s a good fellow.” - -Jim turned to Frances and Florry. - -“You’ll come with me, then, Missies? Master Brenton knows the way.” - -A few paces along the road a low hedge began. This bordered a long, -narrow, old-fashioned garden, cut vertically in precise halves by a -flagged pathway reached through a small green gate. Jim opened the -gate for the girls, and led them towards a cottage lying back from the -road at the end of the garden. - -Frances, with Florry immediately behind her, stepped gladly into the -light and shelter of a long passage with a door at either end. Another -door, in the wall on their right, was pushed open by the young smith, -whose dark eyes glowed with pleasure as he spoke softly to someone -within: - -“Grandfather, here’s little ladies for you--two little ladies! They’ve -been like to have lost themselves in the storm, so Master Brenton’s -been telling me. They’ll be best to come in here--eh, grandfather? And -maybe they’ll warm themselves with you, till I fetch Elizabeth to wait -on them.” - -Jim stood on one side, his happy excitement controlled by an -instinctive wish to be quiet and unobtrusive in the company of young -gentlefolk. The two girls, with ready thanks on their lips, passed -by their conductor into a fair-sized room furnished with much homely -comfort, and saw in an arm-chair by the fire an old man, whose fine -head, with its massive forehead, keen eyes, and firm mouth, denoted -strength of will and individual character. William East’s silvery locks -were quick to command the respect of the two girls, who stepped slowly -towards their aged host. - -“Elizabeth has gone home, grandson,” said East, speaking in a quavering -voice which still retained a note of decision and authority, as -towards one who had been taught prompt obedience. “So you will wait on -the little ladies yourself. Chairs to the fire for them, Jim,--and -off with their boots. Then you’ll make some hot, strong coffee, and -see you’re quick with it. These are not the kind as needs to lose -themselves in snowstorms.” East turned his face to the girls, and -it softened wonderfully, while he addressed them in very different -tones: “Come near to the fire, Missies, and tell me all about it. Why, -you both look fairly spent. There, there, dearies--the recklessness -one sees in young folk! But sit you down, and be sure you’re kindly -welcome.” - -“You’re very good,” said Frances gratefully. “I don’t know why you -should be troubled with all of us boys and girls. There are four of us, -Mr. East,--and a pony. We’ve left the carriage somewhere in the snow. -I’m afraid we’re a great bother, but you must please try not to let us -worry you;--Max Brenton has been telling us that you aren’t very well -just now, and I’m so sorry.” - -Frances’s sympathy was sure of appreciation--it was so earnest and -sincere, and expressed with the simplest good-will. Old East greeted it -with many nods and smiles, and beckoned Frances to the chair nearest to -himself. Indeed, he was amazingly pleased to see this bright young lady -by his side. - -Jim waited deftly on both the girls, taking off their wet boots and -coats, and trying to rub some feeling back into their half-frozen feet. -Next he went away with the boots into the kitchen, and set about making -coffee in his best style. - -Meanwhile Frances and Florry made great friends with the ailing -grandsire. - -“I must tell you our names,” said Frances presently, when the boys -had joined the group in the cottage parlour. “Of course you know the -Doctor’s son--everybody knows Doctor Max.” - -“Ay, he’s his father’s son truly--I can’t say better for him than that.” - -“And the boy beside him is my brother Austin. Then this is Miss Florry -Fane, the best of girls; and I am Frances Morland.” - -The old man leaned forward suddenly, and seemed to scan the speaker’s -face with a curious intentness. - -“Morland, did you say, my dear? Ah! once I knew someone with that name. -Does your father live here-abouts?” - -“My father is dead. Austin and I live with our mother in Woodend; but -we have not been here long--only since the spring.” - -Frances talked on easily and quietly, fearing to disturb East, who, -with his face turned from her, gazed into the fire. One hand he -held across his eyes; the other, which rested on his knee, trembled -a little. For a time he sat thus, hardly speaking, yet evidently -listening with interest and pleasure to all the young girl cared to -tell him. When she did hear his voice, it addressed her in quavering -gentleness: - -“And you’ve come to see me, Missy,--you, so blithe and bonnie! The -Lord Himself sent you this night to gladden my old eyes. Ah! but I’m -thankful--I’m thankful! Will you remember, little Missy, when I’m gone -hence, as your coming brought a blessing with it to Rowdon Cottage?” - -[Illustration: - -M432 - -“THE OLD MAN LEANED FORWARD SUDDENLY TO SCAN THE SPEAKER’S FACE.”] - -Frances, moved by this appeal, and somewhat shy--for the aged face -near her was quivering, and the aged voice faltered and broke--put her -small hand trustfully on East’s wasted fingers. - -“I am glad we came; and you are very kind. Mayn’t I come and see you -sometimes, with Max?” - -“Rarely welcome would you be, little Missy,” said the old man, -brightening. “And there’s something I’d say. If ever my Jim needs -kindness, as like enough he may, will you try to be good to him?” - -“Oh yes, I will,” said Frances soberly, knowing that East’s thoughts -were anticipating his nearing end and his grandson’s consequent -loneliness. - -“Jim’s one to think much of kindness from little ladies,” continued the -grandfather wistfully. “I fancy, maybe, as I’ve not done well by him. -’Twas my wish to bring him up strong and sturdy and independent; for, -as a wean even, the boy was gentle and soft, and fond of daintiness. -That’s why I made him a smith by trade. Thought I, ‘He’ll learn -hardness as he stands by the forge and bends the iron to his will’. But -no, Jim’s craft will never make a man of him.” - -“That’s a pity,” said the consoling voice of Max, who had drawn near. -“A fellow ought to match his trade. My trade’s doctoring,--at least -it’s going to be; so I don’t miss a chance of practice. It’s not often -I get a really good thing, though. Still, all my chums have promised -that if they break an arm they’ll let me set it.” - -Max, with his cheery laugh, could dispel most shadows, but East’s -thoughtful gravity did not disappear. Frances was drawn across the room -by the fragments she caught of a conversation between her brother and -the young blacksmith, and East’s eyes followed her and watched all her -movements. - -Jim was begging Austin to come to the kitchen and be swathed in -blankets while his clothes were drying. Not that the working lad would -have thought much of being in a yet damper condition than was his -boy-guest, but he had heard Frances confide to his grandfather her -fears for her brother. - -“Do now, young master, do!” - -“Catch me!” retorted Austin, more bored than angry; “I’m not such a -soft. Clear off, I say, Jim East. I tell you, I won’t be coddled.” - -“Better take a bit of care than lie abed,” argued Jim sensibly. “And -Missy’s feared for you, sir.” - -“Girls always fuss,” muttered the boy, growing cross. He pushed aside, -with unmannerly roughness, young East’s detaining hand, and was making -for the fireside when Frances intercepted him. - -“Oh, Austin, how can you be so rude?” whispered the girl reproachfully. -“Do go with this good-natured lad,” she pleaded. “You know how dreadful -it is when you get a bad throat.” - -“As though I’d loaf about his dirty old kitchen and be rolled up in -smithy blankets!” said Austin, in extreme disgust. - -He spoke low, but Frances knew that Jim must hear, and she coloured -deeply in her distress. Her brother’s over-fastidiousness on some -points always made her impatient, but now she felt that he was both -foolish and ungrateful in repelling kindly advances. She allowed Austin -to pass, and throw himself on the rug before the fire at Florry’s feet; -then she turned to Jim, again apprehensive that his feelings might -have been hurt by his guest’s unmannerly words and ungracious bearing. - -Jim’s eyes were on Austin; Jim’s lips smiled as, without a touch of -jealousy, he recognized in the handsome, attractive boy the evidence of -the better training and opportunities denied to himself. - -“Boys are always so tiresome, aren’t they?” said Frances, seeing with -relief that Jim’s face betrayed no sense of injury. “My brother won’t -be taken care of, you see; though I’m sure if he does have a sore -throat, he won’t like it.” - -“Oh, I hope he won’t be ill, Missy,” said Jim. “He looks so--so game, -and happy-like. I’d think it wasn’t easy to coddle him.” - -“It isn’t,” said Frances soberly; “and I don’t want him to be a -molly--only I wouldn’t like him to be ill again. I’m ever so much -obliged to you for offering to help him.” - -“You’ve no call to thank me, Missy. It wouldn’t have been much to do. -The pony’s safe in the shed,” added the young smith shyly; “I’ll give -him a rub down and a feed by and by.” - -“You are good,” said Frances. “Oh, do you think there’s any chance of -getting home to-night? All our friends will be so anxious if we don’t -return till morning, though it’s very kind of your grandfather to say -we may camp here.” - -“Indeed and you mustn’t worry, Missy,” said Jim. “Sometimes there’s -folks passes here much later than this; and if you’d not mind mounting -into a waggon again--” - -“We wouldn’t mind a bit. I can’t think what Mamma will do if she hears -nothing about us till morning.” - -Jim’s young face looked very serious, but he offered no further -comfort; and Frances, feeling that her low spirits might become -infectious, tried to divert her mind by asking leave to look at a -book-case against the wall near at hand. While she looked, and wondered -a little at the class of books she found on the shelves, Jim fetched -her a cup of hot coffee and placed it on a small table by her side. -Frances was used to the companionship and natural attentions of -well-bred lads, but it struck her that none of her boy-friends could -have shown her more courteous respect than she was now receiving from -this pleasant young rustic. - -“Jim,” said the voice of the old grandfather, “fetch your fiddle, lad. -Maybe the young folks might like to hear a tune.” - -Austin grimaced expressively behind his hands, but only Max saw, and -Max joined the girls in polite invitations to blushing Jim. The fiddle -was brought from another room, and its owner, seating himself modestly -in a dark corner, begged to know what tune the little ladies would like -best. Florry, guessing that the performer’s repertory might be limited, -suggested “Home, Sweet Home”. - -Then Jim surprised his audience, for though his rendering was entirely -simple, it showed an ear for rhythm, a taste for expression, and an -unerring correctness of pitch. - -“He does play in tune,” murmured Austin the critic, while the other -children thanked the fiddler heartily. - -Jim coloured with gratification to find himself approved, and willingly -obliged his guests with all their favourite popular airs. By the time -he had satisfied everybody the evening had worn far on; and Jim, -yielding his fiddle into the hands of Austin, who longed to finger -the instrument of his fellow-musician, went to hold a low-voiced -consultation with his grandfather. - -The result of this talk was the summoning of Frances to consider a plan -of action, as proposed by the Easts. - -“My grandson fears there’s no chance now of a way home for you -to-night, Missy. The snow is too deep for any wise man to take a -beast into without necessity. I’m thinking ’twere best if you settled -yourselves down quiet-like, took a bit of supper, and made the best of -what I can give you. There’ll be a tidy room upstairs for the missies, -and the young masters will sleep soundly on yonder big couch. ’Tis all -I can do.” - -“Indeed, you are very kind,” said Frances. “Of course we shall do -splendidly. It’s only because of our friends that we mind. My mother is -all alone--except for servants,--and she will be so frightened. Then -there are Florry’s parents, and the Doctor.” - -“You’re right to think of them, Missy,” said the old man, whose eyes -seemed to shine with a sort of solemn joy when they rested on Frances. -“And ’twould never do to let them go in fear all night. They’d be out -scouring the country, like as not. There’s Jim will set out for Woodend -just as soon as he can get ready; and he’ll let your friends know -you’re safe and well, and waiting here till sent for.” - -“Jim cross the Common to-night!” cried Max, coming forward as -spokesman for the visitors. “Oh, I say, Mr. East! How could he?” - -“We mustn’t let him,” said Frances. “I’m sure we oughtn’t to.” - -“I could go myself rather,” went on Max seriously. “It isn’t fair that -Jim should suffer for my foolery. I ought to have backed up Frances -when she wanted to hire a trap in Exham.” - -“That’s over and done with, master,” said East, “and it’s no use to -spend your time blaming yourself for what was just a bit of a frolic. -Jim will go, he’s tall and strong and hardy.” - -Frances looked at the grandson’s slight figure and sensitive face. Jim -was healthily spare and wiry, but hardly robust. And he must be all -in all to his grandfather--the prop of the little home. Her sense of -justice made her beg hard that the venturesome journey to Woodend might -not be made; but both the Easts, though they tried to reassure their -anxious young guests, had evidently made up their minds. - -“Elizabeth--our old housekeeper--lives quite close at hand,” said Jim -to the girls. “I shall pass her cottage, and I’ll bid her come to you, -Missies, and see to your comfort as well as she can.” - -The girls insisted that they needed no waiting-woman, but Jim smiled in -respectful disagreement while he wished them good-night. The room door -closed softly behind him, and the grandfather, pitying the disturbed -young faces, told their owners not to fret, for Jim would surely come -safely back from Woodend, though not till long after they were a-bed -and asleep. - -The snowstorm which had brought with it to our youngsters so great an -adventure was the talk of the countryside for many a week. The roads -about Exham were impassable for some days, except to sturdy rustics or -stout farm-horses. Dr. Brenton came to the smithy next day in a great -waggon (just like Job Benson’s rescuing ark), which he had borrowed -from a Woodend farmer; and with hearty thanks to the Easts, and warm -acknowledgments of Jim’s pluck and consideration, carried off the -wanderers to their homes. - -“We should like to come again, if we may,” said Frances, lingering by -the old grandfather for a second farewell. - -“Ay,” he returned, pressing the girl’s kind little hand. “I’m glad I’ve -seen you, Missy. Come again.” - -“Please!” added Jim from the background. “We’ll be proud to have you, -Missy. Come again.” - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -DOCTOR MAX. - - -The Society of the Altruists was very busy indeed. The Christmas -entertainment to which allusion has been made was a project of Frances -Morland’s, who, among her other qualifications for the public service, -possessed the gift of diplomacy. She was sincerely anxious to help -others, and to enlist her friends in the generous enterprise; but she -knew that the boys and girls of Woodend were no different from their -fellows, and therefore liable to sink gradually into a condition of -lukewarmness about any scheme which did not make a constant appeal to -their active interest. The lack of some fillip to stir up the young -people’s energies had already brought about the destruction of numerous -undertakings in Woodend which had made a gallant start, and Frances was -determined to save her Society from such an untimely fate. - -Everybody was pleased with the prospect of giving an entertainment in -which everybody might play some part. The guests were to be the poor of -Woodend, and the festivity was to take place two days before Christmas. -Frances suggested this date as best suited to the guests, who would -doubtless like to parade some, at least, of the Altruist presents at -their own home-gatherings of Christmas-day. Christmas-eve was not a -possible feast-day, because the Carlyons liked their pupils to join in -the carol-singing after the evening service, and the service itself was -one which the young people seldom cared to miss. Then there was so much -to be done at home in the way of decorations and private plans. - -Therefore, many dwellers in the cottages of Woodend were looking -forward expectantly to the twenty-third of December. Their excitement, -however, was as nothing in comparison with that of the Altruists. -Frances had made skilful division of her forces. Some were to act in a -fairy play, written for the occasion by Florry Fane, who intended one -day to astonish the world of literature; some were painting scenery, -preparing “properties”, or making dresses for use in the play; some -were practising solos, duets, and part-songs for the concert which was -to precede the play in the evening’s programme. Then there were those -whose souls inclined not to literature, drama, or music: to them fell -the task of arranging the commissariat department, and the means of -distributing gifts so as to please everyone. - -It was Saturday evening, in the second week of December. Up the -straggling village road came, whistling cheerily, Max Brenton,--the -“man of affairs”, as Florry had dubbed him. Max’s well-worn coat was -buttoned closely, and his crimson comforter had been tied, with utter -disregard for appearances, over his cap, so as to shield his ears. -A bitter east wind blew about him, and as he went he swung his arms -vigorously to aid his progress, and stamped his feet to resist the -clinging snow. - -“Hope Dad has got home,” thought the boy fervently. “Old Carrots -isn’t too lively, and this is a regular mucky night. Ugh, what slush! -Freezing hard, too, now. I said that sudden thaw wouldn’t hold. Well, -anything’s better than slush--for us. I’m afraid the ninety-year-olds -and the babies will suffer.” - -The Doctor’s son trudged soberly on. He was fresh from the -playing-fields, tired, cold, and hungry for the tea which ought to be -waiting him. As he trudged, he hoped many things. That Janet had not -forgotten to order Dad’s steak. That the dining-room lamp would not -have gone out for the third time that week. That the fire would not -have gone out to keep the lamp company. Janet was eccentric in her -dealings with lamps and fires, and had a sort of general idea that -Saturday was sacred to the service of the kitchen, and not to be wasted -over trifling matters belonging to “the family’s” part of the dwelling. -The Doctor and Max had been for a dozen years “the family” to whom -Janet had consecrated her faithful labours. She had been already old -when the Doctor had found her seated in dry-eyed despair beside the bed -of her dead husband, and had forthwith bidden her to his home, whence -the sole servant had departed to face the wedded life just over for -Janet. - -Max had always taken Janet for granted, and had ceased to wonder -why she never mended the holes in his stockings all at once. Janet -preferred doing repairs in instalments. - -“For there may be a toe out here and there, and there may not, Master -Max,” she would observe; “and small odds is it about maybe a toe. But -it’s heels I was at last mending-night, and it’s heels you’ll find -darned solid.” - -Much anxious study of the mystery which doth hedge a needle made Max at -last independent of Janet’s darning. Not to vex the poor old lady, he -quietly supplemented her labours with personal industry; and when Janet -did heels he did toes. Buttons he regarded as a trifle, and even a -patch--if no longer to be avoided by care and ingenuity--was not beyond -his utmost skill. - -Max had graver anxieties than darning. There were, for instance, the -money-box and the account-books. - -The Doctor’s income was not to be accurately anticipated, but its -highest possible total never cost Max much labour in the way of -sending in bills. There were so many “gratis” patients. Some were too -poor to pay save in thanks; some were old friends, whom the Doctor -could not endure to serve except for love alone. When those patients -who could pay remembered to do so, the Doctor cashed their cheques and -put the change into the money-box--leaving out only a fixed sum, which -went to a fund called by Max “Examinations”, and intended to provide -for his medical studies by and by. It was a great grief to the Doctor, -and therefore to Max, when inroads had to be made into this fund in -order to pay the tradesmen’s weekly books. Dread of such a necessity -made the darkest hour of Saturday that which Max gave to the family -exchequer. His face always wore a portentous solemnity when he raised -the lid of the money-box. - -The Doctor’s home was an odd little crib standing far back from the -road at the very top of a long garden. Alongside of the house was a -one-stalled stable and coach-house combined, with a paved square before -it and a side-door opening into a lane. Carrots, the Doctor’s ancient -steed, was of the nondescript red colour which had suggested to Max -his name, and consequently might be seen afar off; a fact that added -greatly to his popularity with poor patients anxiously on the look-out -for the Doctor. For years the Doctor had trudged afoot on his messages -of healing; but a small legacy from a wealthy cousin had sufficed for -the building of the stables and for the purchase of Carrots and the -trap. The Doctor had friends in Woodend who gladly would have made him -the owner of a thoroughbred, a brougham, and a palatial coach-house; -but there were limits beyond which a poor man’s pride permitted not the -dearest friends to go. - -As Max neared his home he put his best foot forward--stepped more -sturdily, whistled more cheerily. The lights he watched for had just -come into view, when he caught the sound of a child’s sobbing somewhere -in the darkness beyond. - -“Hallo! who’s there?--Hold hard, don’t run away! Why, Polly, it isn’t -you?” - -A very tiny, choked voice replied: - -“’Es, Mas’r Max.” - -“Gracious! Fancy your mother letting a mite like you be out this -weather! What are you doing, Polly?” - -“Please, Muvver’s felled into the fire and frizzed--” - -“What?” - -Polly repeated her news among louder sobs. - -“And Muvver said: ‘You go find Dokker’, and I comed.” - -“You brave little thing!” cried Max; and, stooping, he lifted the -baby-girl into his arms. “‘Dokker’s’ out, Polly,--at least, I’m afraid -he is.” Max had missed the light from the Doctor’s sanctum. “But come -on, and we’ll see.” - -Max held Polly close, and ran, wondering meanwhile what tragedy -had taken place in Lumber’s Yard. The yard was the poorest part of -Woodend--a cluster of wretched cottages, the property, like most of the -village, of Sir Arthur Fenn of Fencourt, the absentee lord of the manor. - -“How did Mother get hurt?” inquired Max. - -This query drew forth a rigmarole in baby-English, whence, by careful -reasoning and shrewd deduction, Max gathered that Polly’s mother had -rushed to the soothing of her youngest son, aged six months, had fallen -across the wooden cradle and dropped against the grate. Whether or not -the hurts were serious, of course the boy could not guess; but he knew -the necessity for the speedy dressing of burns, and hurried on at his -best pace. - -To save time, Max avoided the front door, and darted round to the -back--a region where Janet reigned supreme. The kitchen door opened -right into the yard, and at the door stood Janet, scolding Tim the -stable-boy, who ought to have been out with the Doctor. Tim played -truant occasionally--just by way of remembering that he was a boy. At -the workhouse, where he had been brought up, he never had attempted to -be anything but elderly. - -“Ah, Master Max,” cried Janet, “here you are, sir!--and here’s this -young vagabond come back from his spree, which I’d make him pay dear -for, if I’d my way--but there, the master--” - -“Never mind Tim just now, there’s a good soul. Is Dad back? Ah! I -thought he wasn’t. Well, Janet, just take care of Polly for a bit, will -you? I’ll have to snatch up a few things and go myself. I’m afraid Dad -has been kept somewhere, or perhaps Carrots can’t get along. Goodness -knows!” - -Max ran through the house to the surgery, shouting explanations while -he went, while Janet packed Tim off in disgrace to the stables, and -proceeded to bestow on Polly a share of her own tea. Presently Max came -flying back with a small bag in one hand. - -“Keep Polly here for an hour, Janet,” the boy called out. “I’ll be back -by then, and Tim can carry her home.” - -But the hour passed by and Max did not return. - -Down in Lumber’s Yard reigned a degree of excitement which seemed -keenly enjoyed by the sharers in it. The news that Bell Baker had been -burned to death was the first rumour, but this gradually modified -itself into something approaching fact. Mrs. Baker was a decent woman, -whom a bad husband kept in a condition of miserable poverty. It was on -behalf of her little Polly that Max, some weeks earlier, had begged -from Frances a “three-year-old frock”. - -The entry to Lumber’s Yard was by a narrow foot-path, and this Max -found blocked up by a gesticulating group of women. The men were -congregated in the yard itself--a three-sided court with tumble-down -cottages round it. - -“’Ere’s Master Max!” was the general cry, as the boy ran up the path. - -“Out of the way, good folks,” cried Max authoritatively, and the women -parted to let him through, then closed their ranks and followed in a -body to the Bakers’ door. This Max unceremoniously pushed open,--and -then as coolly shut and locked in the face of the would-be busybodies. -He had seen that the one respectable neighbour Mrs. Baker possessed -was already by the poor woman’s side, and that thus he was secure of -necessary aid. - -The boy’s manner changed when he was fairly in possession of the place. -He went across to the truckle-bed on which the sufferer lay, and, -bending over her, asked softly if he could do anything for her relief. -The pity of the tender-hearted was in his eyes, the skill of the expert -in his hands, while he gently cut away burned clothing and applied -proper dressing to the cruel hurts. Max had been thoroughly trained by -his father in the application of first aid to cases of accident, and -had found plenty of opportunities to make his knowledge of practical -use. - -No more urgent need than that of Mrs. Baker had yet presented itself to -his personal care, and after a moment’s thought he determined to take a -further responsibility on his boyish shoulders. - -“Where’s Baker?” he asked of the friendly neighbour. - -“No need to ask, sir. Where he allus is o’ Saturday nights.” - -“Well, he mustn’t be allowed to come in here unless he’s sober. See?” - -“Who’s to keep him out, Master Max? Baker’s a bad sort when he’s the -worse o’ liquor.” - -“Can’t you lock the door and stand a siege?” demanded the boy, his -eyes sparkling in prospect of such a diversion. “But no,” he added, -professional prudence conquering pugnacious instincts, “that would -worry and frighten Mrs. Baker.” Max looked down thoughtfully on his -poor patient, who lay moaning in semi-unconsciousness. “I’ll do what I -can,” he finished, “and you will help me, won’t you, Mrs. Lane?” - -“Sure an’ I will, sir,” said the good woman heartily. - -“Then stay here till my father comes. He’ll tackle Joe Baker, if I -don’t succeed.” - -Max paused only to speak a few words of sympathy to Mrs. Baker, and -then packed his traps and started off. - -At the further end of Lumber’s Yard stood a fair-sized inn, the “Jolly -Dog”, much frequented by the lowest class of the male population. It -was rented by a man named Daniel Luss, whose license had more than once -been jeopardized by the scenes of rioting and drunkenness his premises -had witnessed. But Luss’s landlord was Sir Arthur Fenn, and Sir -Arthur’s county influence was great. Luss willingly paid a high rent, -and the administrators of law and order let him alone. - -Max ran across the snow-covered yard straight to the “Jolly Dog”. There -was only one outer door. It led to the bar, and to the inn-parlour, -where the more truculent spirits of Woodend congregated to discuss -village politics and abuse those neighbours who struggled after -respectability. Max knocked loudly on the open door, but no one -appeared. At last, taking his courage in his hands, he stepped within. -For the time the bar was empty, its servitors being busy in the kitchen -behind, where they enjoyed black tea and bloaters and toast to an -accompaniment of unparliamentary language from the adjacent parlour. - -Max hesitated a minute, and his heart beat faster. He knew that the men -he was going to face were rough and lawless--often savage and cruel. -One of the worst was Joseph Baker. But the boy recalling the face of -Baker’s suffering wife, went boldly up to the parlour door, pushed -it open and walked in. There was no surprise for Max in the scene -before him--groups of sodden men looming through a thick cloud of -tobacco-smoke, some already in quarrelsome mood, some making the roof -ring with mirthless laughter. The surprise was on the side of the men, -when, a note of exclamation passing from one to the other, they turned -their heavy eyes upon the boyish figure by the door. - -“It’s the young Doc’,” grunted a fellow who had entered recently, and -was therefore in possession of his faculties. “Got ’is tools with ’im -too, ain’t he?” - -There was a roar of appreciation, and the speaker leaned back in his -chair to think out another sally. - -Max knew that what he wanted to say must be said quickly, and, stepping -forward, raised his clear treble to a tone which he hoped might pierce -the dullest ears. - -“Men, listen to me a moment, will you? I’ve come to tell you something -you mayn’t have heard. I’m telling it especially to one of you--Joseph -Baker. Baker is here, isn’t he?” - -Max had decided wisely not to heed interruptions, but he saw a couple -of hands stretched out to drag a man from a distant corner, and guessed -that the half-obscured, tottering figure was that of Baker. - -“Yes, there he is. Well then, Baker, and all of you--I’m sorry to say -there’s been a dreadful accident, and Baker’s wife is badly hurt. She’s -suffering fearfully, but I think she’ll live, with care. Without care -she won’t live, and you know she has a little baby and three other -children. Now, I want Baker to promise me he’ll do what he can to keep -her quiet and comfortable to-night, either by keeping quiet himself -when he gets home, or else by spending the night elsewhere and leaving -his wife to Mrs. Lane’s care.” - -“What’s wrong wi’ Bell?” inquired Baker thickly as he stumbled out from -his corner. “If it’s some o’ her bloomin’ nonsense, I’ll make her pay. -I’ll--” - -Max broke in and explained clearly the manner of the woman’s injury. - -“So she’s gone and half-killed herself, has she?” cried the husband -savagely. “Jist let me git her, an’ I’ll finish the job. Who’s goin’ -to cook my wittles, I’d like to know, wi’ her a-shamming in bed? Here, -mates, I’m off home, but I’ll not be long. Wait till I git back, and -I’ll tell ye how I’ve settled Bell.” - -Max looked at the wretch with scorn and loathing, and involuntarily -stretched out his arms to bar access to the door behind him. Several -of Baker’s associates grunted applause at the husband’s valorous -determination; but the majority of the room’s occupants were not yet -in a state to be without some feeling of humanity, and these raised -a murmur of shame, of which Max took quick advantage. It had become -evident to the boy that his visit to the “Jolly Dog” on behalf of Bell -would do more harm than good if it sent Baker to her side while she lay -unprotected. - -“Yes,” cried Max, taking the word from a stout, good-natured looking -man near to him, “it would be a shame, wouldn’t it, not to do all one -could for poor Mrs. Baker? You know how a burn hurts, even a little -one; so you can guess how she feels now.” The boy paused, longing -for some inspiration which might serve to delay Joe’s departure. Dr. -Brenton might be home by now--would be sure, at the earliest moment, -to hasten after his son. If only Max could hinder Baker from leaving -the “Jolly Dog” until such time as he might be pretty sure of finding -his wife protected by the Doctor’s presence! - -“You’ve been ’elping ’er yerself, master, maybe?” asked the stout man, -pointing to Max’s bag of “tools”. - -“I’ve tried,” said Max briefly. - -“Then I say as you’re a rare sort for a bit of a younker. Ain’t ’e now, -mates?” - -Max was surprised, and a little relieved, to hear a chorus of -approbation. - -“An’ I’m blest if we don’t drink yer ’ealth wi’ three times three. -’Ere, ’Arry, set the young Doc’ in the middle o’ the table there, an’ -fill ’im a mug to ’isself.” - -In a moment Max, lifted like a feather by ’Arry, the giant of Woodend, -found himself on the table, and raised above the heads of the village -revellers. A foaming mug was offered to him by the stout man, whom the -others called Jack. - -“Thanks,” said the boy, taking a drink, and handing back the mug; “I -was thirsty. You’ve reminded me that I’ve missed my tea, but it will -come just as handy later. Before I go, let’s have a lark together. Make -Baker sit down, some of you; and I’ll call on Hal Tatton for a song.” - -Baker was dragged back to his corner by half a dozen hands, and the -men gazed curiously at the brave, boyish figure standing erect and -masterful on the big deal table. He was so far removed from themselves -in person, in bearing, in habit; his voice echoed with so plucky a -note, and his eyes met theirs with so bright an intelligence. What -manner of converse could they hold with a lad like this? - -“Now, Hal,” called out Max imperatively, “you’re a good hand at a -lively ditty--let’s have ‘The Boys of England’ without ado. I’ll give -you your key.” - -And Max, not entirely unappreciative of his position, started the first -verse of the latest popular melody--a “patriotic” song, reeking of -battle, and defiance, and general jingoism. Hal caught up the air, and -Max subsided until the correct moment, when he demanded a “jolly good -chorus”. - -The song ended, Hal retired to his seat amid loud plaudits, and Max -racked his brains for ideas. His glance was on an old clock ticking on -the mantel-shelf. A quarter to eight! Another half-hour and he surely -might reckon safely on his father’s return home as an accomplished fact. - -“And then,” concluded the boy in rapid thought, “if he hadn’t got -to Baker’s cottage, I could fetch him before Joe had done any harm. -I’m sure that stout chap would keep him here a bit if I asked him. -The thing is, to hold on a while, and then leave this lively crew in -first-rate temper.” - -Max made the best of matters, and, following impulse, addressed the -company. - -“That was a right good song, men, and we’re all obliged to Hal for it. -Aren’t we? Yes, that’s the way to say ‘Thank you’. Well now, what for a -change before I go? If you like, I’ll tell you a story I read somewhere -the other day. It’s not long, and it’s no end exciting.” - -Max told his story accordingly; and if he were at first gratified -by comparative silence and a fair amount of attention from his -rough audience, he was none the less aware of a beating heart as he -approached his climax. For Max’s tale was a true one, and its chief -incident--exciting, as he had promised--was the rescue of an injured -wife from her husband’s brutality by a band of chivalrous and pitiful -rustics. Max almost held his breath as he concluded. He had played for -high stakes, and might have lost everything. - -When the boy’s voice ceased, there was absolute silence; his hearers -had been following him closely. Suddenly Baker started from his corner -with a savage growl. - -“’E’s lettin’ on at me, that’s wot ’e is! Do you ’ear me, I say? ’E’s -told that ’ere story agin me; and ’anged if I don’t take it out o’ ’im -instead o’ Bell! No! I’ll git ’im first, an’ Bell arter!” - -Baker threw himself furiously towards the table, where Max stood, quiet -and watchful. He knew that he would be helpless in Joe’s clutches, if -no one took his part. - -Then Harry uprose, and stepped carelessly to Baker, whom he cast to the -floor with one well-directed push. - -“You’re a plucked ’un,” said the giant, surveying Max grimly; “an’ -look ’ere, you’re a proper Doc’ an’ you’ve arned your pay. My mates -an’ me”--Harry glanced rapidly round--“we’ll keep that tale o’ yourn -in our ’eads to-night. We’ll take turns to watch Bell’s door, and--my -word on’t,”--he thumped his great fist on the table,--“that skunk Joe -sha’n’t set ’is foot inside till you give ’im leave.” - -A roar of confirmation from Harry’s mates set Max’s mind at rest. - -“Ah, thank you, Harry!” said Max in real gratitude; “I thought you’d -want to help poor Mrs. Baker. And thank you all,” added the boy -merrily, “for being so kind to me. We had a jolly song, hadn’t we? I -shall call on Hal Tatton for another next time I see him.” - -“You’ll get it so soon as ye asks, master,” returned the grinning -Tatton. “I’m not forgetting the way ye cured that sprained wrist o’ -mine--I’ll stand by Bell.” - -“And me!” “And me!” shouted the voices of many rough fellows who had -met with kindness from the good Doctor or his son. - -“Then thank you all again, and good-bye!” cried Max. The men stood -silent, watching him as he went. He had brought with him into the -wretched place a glimpse of brightness, and the loafers of Lumber’s -Yard were sorry to see him go. - -Harry the giant kept his word, and told off his retainers to mount -guard by turns over the cottage where Bell lay moaning. By and by he -found it simpler to lock Joe Baker into a shed behind his cottage, -giving him plenty of sacks to keep him warm, and a liberal supply of -food, collected from the neighbours. In this fashion Joe was kept out -of mischief until Bell was up and about again; when Harry’s elementary -sense of justice assured him that he had kept his bond with Max and had -no further right to interfere for the present in the marital affairs of -the Bakers. - -During the long hours of his imprisonment, Joe’s memory of Max’s -successful plan stirred the drunken scamp to bitter hatred and a -passionate desire for revenge. But he knew that to raise a finger -against “the young Doc’” would be to set the whole village in a fury; -and dread for the results on his own person made him sulk and scowl in -secret. - -Max, on that eventful evening, went from the “Jolly Dog” straight back -to the Bakers’ cottage. There, as he had hoped, he found his father, -and the pair walked home in company. - -First, the Doctor bestowed a little judicious professional praise on -his son’s surgical handiwork, and made a few comments for Max’s future -guidance. Next, he turned to a fresh topic--one which, as might easily -be seen, was at the time very seriously in his thoughts. - -“I have been to Rowdon to-night, Max.” - -“To the smithy, Dad?” asked Max, glancing up quickly. “Is old East any -better?” - -“He never could have been better,” said the Doctor quietly; “now he -never will be worse. I was in time, Max, to see the end. It was very -peaceful--just the sleep of old age. There was really no disease. -Nature had worn herself out.” - -“Oh, Dad! Poor Jim! Is he all alone?” - -“He has his old servant Elizabeth and her crippled husband. But -the lad’s sensitiveness shrinks instinctively from the sort of -condolence people of that class usually offer. You know what I -mean, Max,” continued Dr. Brenton hastily. “I don’t mean that the -sorrow or the sympathy of poor folks is less real than that of their -betters as the world counts degree. But they have different modes of -expression--and--well, Jim is not of Elizabeth’s order. I wondered -why, until to-night. Old East, before he died, solved the mystery for -me.” - -“How, Dad?” asked Max in surprise. - -“You’ll know some day, sonny. I may tell you only that East didn’t want -me to-night as a medicine man. He knew I could do nothing for him. Now, -Max, I should like you to go to the smithy early to-morrow, and see -what you can do for Jim.” - -“I will, of course, Dad.” - -“Take him out for a walk--encourage him to speak his heart to you. -’Twill do him good--poor boy! poor boy! I see trials in store for Jim.” - -“Perhaps Frances might go with me? She’s the best sympathizer I know -of. And she liked old East, and has seen him several times since the -night we lost ourselves in the snow. Couldn’t I tell her?” - -“Her mother would not let her go, Max,” interrupted the Doctor; “I’m -quite sure of it. And perhaps, for many reasons, it’s better she -shouldn’t. But by all means tell her of Jim’s loss. Later on it may be -her lot to console him. Meanwhile, we blundering males can but do our -best.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -MUSIC AND MUMMING. - - -It was December the twenty-third, and two o’clock in the afternoon. -Frances and Austin had finished their early dinner at their mother’s -luncheon-table, and were hurrying down the road to the school-house, -where, by grace of the Rector, the Altruists’ entertainment was to be -given. - -“We still have plenty to do,” exclaimed Frances a little breathlessly, -for the brother and sister were walking at a rapid pace. “The benches -have to be arranged, and the tables laid, and I have one more wig to -make for the ‘Ten Little Niggers’.” - -“Gramercy!” exclaimed Austin; “did I not count ten heads, and ten wigs -on the heads, at the dress rehearsal yesterday?” - -“Teddy’s was not a proper wig,” sighed Frances. “You know Teddy has not -a mother--or even an aunt, or a cousin, or an old nurse--to do anything -of that sort for him. His father’s housekeeper is a horrid cross old -thing, who would not have let Teddy act at all if she could have helped -it. So I waylaid Mr. Bevers, and made him promise that Teddy should do -anything I liked; and then Florry and I saw to his dresses between us. -That is how Teddy comes to be a little nigger, and a baker-boy, and a -fairy-page. He is such a darling, and he sings like a cherub. We wanted -him ever so badly.” - -“Girls always contrive to get what they want. They just peg away till -they do. I will say, though, Frances, that they don’t mind going to any -amount of trouble about it. Fancy making three dresses for one little -shaver!” - -“The baker-boy dress isn’t much--just a cap and apron,--and the little -nigger was easy. The pink satin fairy-page was different, of course. -Teddy and Gus, in pink and blue, look sweet.” - -“They are rather fetching,” condescended Austin. “And Max’s idea of -letting Teddy and Lilla sing the opening duet was a jolly good one. I’m -not gone on babies, but Lilla’s a picture in that old-world thing her -mother has dressed her up in.” - -“She’s a picture as a fairy too,” said Frances; “though I think the -minuet will be the most picturesque bit of the play. Florry is a lovely -fairy god-mother, isn’t she? I do think she’s clever enough to act at -the Lyceum!” - -“The play’s the thing, undoubtedly, as Mr. Hamlet of Denmark remarked. -Just wait till you see our Travesty, though. I flatter myself we’ll -make Woodendites sit up. Max and I have worked out a splendid -blood-curdling duel, with that drop-lunge Mr. Carlyon taught us for a -finish. You didn’t see it at rehearsal yesterday?” - -“No, I was called away; but I’m sure it will be capital. Max is funny, -as _Laertes_. And Frank Temple is a fine _King_. How lucky it is he had -that lovely dress of red velvet and ermine!” - -“It is a real stage-dress. Frank had an uncle who went on the stage and -became a famous actor. The regal robes belonged to him.” - -“Fancy! That is interesting. I wonder what he would say if he knew they -were going to be worn in the Hamlet Travesty.” - -“He’d think it jolly cheek.” - -“We never could have done the Travesty without Mr. Carlyon. Of course, -it was his plan that we should act it; so I suppose that’s why he has -been so much interested in it. And Miss Carlyon has stage-managed -Florry’s play for us: she said it was her duty as president of the -Altruists.--There’s Betty Turner, Austin. Make haste, and we’ll catch -her up.” - -The active pair soon caught up Betty, who was exceedingly plump, and -was never seen in a hurry. She looked at her friends in mild amazement -as they pelted down the hill and pulled up one on each side of her. - -“How you two do excite yourselves!” she observed languidly. “Francy’s -cheeks are as red as beet-root, and Austin will have no breath left for -his song.” - -“We shouldn’t enjoy anything if we didn’t get enthusiastic!” laughed -Frances. “And isn’t this the great occasion--the Altruists’ field-day?” - -“I shall have to leave the club, you make me so hot!” chuckled Betty. -“I feel like building a snow-man when I look at you. At least, somebody -else might build him for me, while I watched. The sensation would be -equally cooling.” - -“And not nearly so fatiguing,” said Austin. “Won’t you enjoy filling a -hundred tea-cups twice over, Betty?” - -“Catch me, indeed! I sha’n’t do the pouring out--that’s for May and -Violet. They like it. Especially May. She has a genius for mathematics, -and will be able to solve the problem of how many spoonfuls of tea to -the pot, and how many pots to the tea-tableful of old women.” - -“Give ’em plenty,” urged Austin. “Tibby Prout told me she hadn’t tasted -tea this winter.” - -“Tibby Prout!” repeated Betty meditatively. “I’ll keep my eye on Tibby: -she shall have six cups. Just write her name here, Austin.” Betty -pulled a notebook and pencil from her pocket. “It is so tiring to -remember names.” - -“You’ll have to remember to look in your notebook; and then you’ll have -to remember why the name of Tibby Prout is written there; and then -you’ll have to remember why I, and not you, have written it.” - -“So I shall!” agreed Betty mournfully; and with an air of great -depression she turned in at the school-house gate. - -“‘A plump and pleasing person’,” whispered Austin mischievously in his -sister’s ear. “It’s a good thing she’s amiable, as there’s so much of -her!” - -The boy ran off, laughing, to greet Max, who was just coming up to the -gate. In his company came “Harry” the giant, a broad grin on his stolid -face. - -“See whom I’ve brought!” exclaimed Max, when greetings and confidences -had passed between the chums. “You needn’t worry any longer about the -benches, Frances. Harry has promised to arrange them all, just as you -like.” - -“That is kind of you, Harry,” said the girl, looking at the rustic with -the frank kindliness which acted like a charm on her poorer neighbours, -and made them her faithful allies. “I just wanted somebody very strong -and rather patient. It will take a good while to move the benches, but -it would have taken the boys twice as long as it will take you.” - -“Never fear, Miss,” said the giant heartily; “I’ll turn this ’ere place -upside-down in ’arf an hour, if so be as you want it.” - -Then they all set busily to work. The school-house contained one large -room, of which the upper part possessed a platform which was used -for all sorts of village entertainments, such as penny-readings and -magic-lantern shows. The young Altruist carpenters had rigged-up a -plain screen of wood above and at the sides of the platform, and this, -when hung with drapery, took the place of a proscenium, and was fitted -with a curtain which would draw up and down. There were two entrances, -right and left of the stage, and simple appliances to hold the simple -scenery. Not much scope was given, perhaps, for elaborate effects; but -Miss Carlyon as stage-manager, and Florry as dramatist, had used their -wits, and some of their contrivances were wonderfully ingenious. They -had availed themselves, too, of such opportunities as were offered by -the command of a passage running from one stage-door to the other, -outside the room. Here they marshalled their processions, and assembled -their hidden choir, and even found room for one or two members of the -orchestra when these were wanted to discourse music at moving moments -of the performances. - -Owing to the length of the programme, the proceedings were to begin at -four o’clock, with a generous tea. Before the hour arrived the Carlyons -made their appearance, and were immediately in the thick of everything. -Edward, his long coat flying behind him, dashed hither and thither in -response to agonized calls from boys in difficulties; while Muriel -gave helping hands to her girls, until the preparations for tea were -complete. - -Every Altruist wore a crimson badge, and a similar one was presented -to every guest on entrance. The stage-hangings were crimson; the -Christmas greetings hung up on the walls were fashioned in crimson -letters on a white ground. Of course the room was prettily decorated -with green-stuffs and berries, and the long tables grouped in the -background were ornamented with lovely flowers. Altogether, the aspect -of the room was distinctly festive when, as the clock struck four, the -doors were thrown open and the guests began to pour in. Men, women, and -children--all had been invited; and for once the denizens of Lumber’s -Yard mingled with the better-class cottagers. Bell Baker, still pale, -and poorly-clad, was brought under the care of the Doctor himself, who -had borrowed a bath-chair, and packed his suffering charge into it. -With Bell came her three eldest children; the baby was being cared -for by an enterprising cottage-woman, who had decided to stay at home -from the Altruist Feast and “take in” babies at a penny the head! The -resulting fortune in shillings was a satisfactory consolation to her -for the loss of her treat. - -The Altruist fund might have fallen short of the demands made on -it for the expenses of the grand entertainment, had it not been -amply supplemented by those well-to-do inhabitants of Woodend who -were interested in the undertaking. The feasts proper--both tea and -supper--were “entirely provided by voluntary contributions”, as Frances -had proudly announced at the last meeting of the Society. The rector -offered fifty pounds of beef; Miss Carlyon’s cookery-class made a score -of plum-puddings and a hundred mince-pies, the materials coming from -the kitchens of Altruists’ mothers; the oranges and apples and almonds -and raisins, with such trifles as bon-bons and sweets, were sent in -by various Altruists’ fathers. Mrs. Morland promised fifty pounds of -cake, and as Austin was allowed to do the ordering it was as plummy as -Christmas cake knows how to be. In this way gifts rapidly mounted up; -and by the time it became necessary to reckon up the funds, Frances -found that she had only sugar to provide! - -This was very cheering to the young leader of the Altruists, who had -dreaded having to check the bounding ambition of her associates. -The sewing-meetings had done great things with scarlet flannel and -crimson wool; but in this direction, also, the grown-ups were kind. -Mrs. Morland, who had quietly assumed the headship of Woodend society, -dropped polite hints at dinner-parties and distributed confidences at -“At Homes”. It became generally understood that all contributions of -new and useful clothing would be thankfully received in the club-room. -Perhaps Mrs. Morland’s patronage did less for the cause than did the -popularity of her daughter. Frances was everybody’s favourite; and the -pleasure of receiving her earnest thanks, and seeing the joyful light -in her grave gray eyes, sent many a Woodend matron and maid to the -making of shirts. - -The Carlyons had determined privately to run no risk of usurping the -credit which belonged of right to the originators of the entertainment; -and they kept very much behind the scenes during the evening, except -when sharing the labours of the party told off to preserve order and -see that all the guests were comfortably placed. Tea over, and the -tables cleared, the orchestra struck up a lively medley of popular -tunes, while the company were ranged on the benches that Harry had set -in two rows, facing the stage, in the upper part of the long room. -Behind these benches was a small space, and then a few rows of chairs -for the families and friends of the Altruists, who were to be permitted -to view the performances in consideration of their liberal help. - -When all were seated, and quiet reigned in the neighbourhood of the -empty tea-tables, the orchestra ceased to make melody, and Miss -Carlyon, slipping round from the back, took her place before the -piano, the fifteen-year-old Pianist of the band retiring modestly to -a three-legged stool that she shared with the fourteen-year-old First -Violin. The footlights were turned up, the gas in the auditorium was -turned down; on the whole audience fell the hush of expectancy. Miss -Carlyon played a few bars of a simple children’s song; then the curtain -swayed backward a little to allow two performers to step before it. - -[Illustration: - -M432 - -“A STORY WE BRING YOU FROM FAËRY LAND.”] - -First came Teddy Bevers, beautiful to behold in his pink satin tunic -trimmed with swansdown, lace ruffles, pink silk stockings, and buckled -shoes. His dark curls bobbed merrily all over his little head, as, -holding his pink hat with its white plume behind him, he bowed low -to another small figure tripping after him. Lilla Turner was a tiny, -slender maiden, just the opposite of plump Betty, her sister and slave; -she wore a short petticoat of quilted white satin, and a Watteau bodice -and panier of white and gold brocade. Lilla returned Teddy’s bow with -a sweeping curtsey, then took his offered hand, and the little pair -paced solemnly to the front and made a profound salute to the -audience. Both sang prettily; and Miss Carlyon’s careful teaching had -given them a clear enunciation, which made the words of their prologue -audible throughout the room: - - “A story we bring you from Faëry Land, - A story of gallant, and maiden, and sprite; - And we ask you to lend us a favouring hand, - While we tell it, and sing it, and act it to-night. - List, list to our story of maiden and fay, - Of prince, knight, and peasant; oh, listen, we pray!” - -Teddy and Lilla continued, through three verses, to entreat the -indulgence of an audience already disposed to be more than kind; then -the salutes were sedately repeated, and the little couple vanished -amid enraptured applause. The beauty and grace of the small actors -had warmed the hearts of the workaday folk to whom they sang, and the -Woodend villagers demanded an encore with all their hands and tongues. - -The programme was long enough already; and, besides, Florry’s sense -of dramatic fitness made her look on a repetition of her prologue as -something like barbarism. So Teddy and Lilla were told to go on again -and bow their acknowledgments; which they did, kissing their hands ere -they finally retired. - -They had paved the way admirably for the others, and the fairy play was -throughout a brilliant success. The curtain was rung down on a most -picturesque tableau, while Max burned red fire at the wings, and the -orchestra discoursed sweet music. Three times the curtain was raised -before the audience would be satisfied; and even then there were calls -for the “author”, and Florry was pulled on to the stage by a group of -enthusiastic little fairies. - -A big sigh of satisfaction seemed to come from everybody; and the -onlookers were still assuring each other that nothing could beat the -fairy play, when the orchestra struck up a familiar melody. All the -boys on the benches began to hum appreciatively; and the curtain slowly -rose, while across the stage in a couple of bounds sprang the First -Little Nigger. His age was twelve, his face and hands were sooty-black; -he wore a costume of scarlet-and-white striped cotton jacket, green -knickerbockers, one scarlet and one white stocking, a white collar of -enormous proportions, and a lovely horse-hair wig. After him came his -nine brothers, in similar raiment, and in gradations of size, which -ended in Teddy Bevers, who informed his hearers that he was the “Tenth -Little Nigger Boy!” - -Mr. Carlyon had written a new version of the historic ditty--a version -strictly topical, and full of harmless local allusions, which won peals -of laughter from the benches. The actors had been taught some amusing -by-play; and their antics drew shrieks of delight from small boys -and girls, who had gaped in uncomprehending wonderment at the Fairy -Godmother. It was of no use to try to refuse an encore for the Ten -Little Niggers, so Mr. Carlyon sent them on again to repeat their fun -and frolic for the benefit of the little ones in front. - -The niggers had brought the younger portion of the audience into such -an uproarious condition that the feelings of the First Violin were -sadly tried by the hubbub amid which she stepped on to the platform. -But now, if ever, Woodend was on its good behaviour; and, as the -elders wanted to “hear the music”, they coaxed and scolded the juniors -into a restless silence. However, the melting strains of Raff’s -“Cavatina” were not beyond the appreciation of anybody; and those -who did not admire her plaintive performance for its own sake, were -full of wonder at the skill of the First Violin. The next item on the -programme was a vocal duet by Frances and her brother. Austin sang well -in a charmingly fresh treble, with which his sister’s alto blended -very prettily; and the pair had practised most conscientiously. This -was the only number of the programme in which Frances’s name appeared. -The girl had declined to be put down for anything which would give her -prominence, because she knew her mother would prefer to see Austin to -the fore, and Frances had a delicate instinct which warned her not to -court jealousy by claiming too much for the Morland family. Austin had -played one of the best parts in the fairy piece, was to play _Hamlet_ -in some scenes selected by Mr. Carlyon from Poole’s “Travesty”, and -besides his duet with Frances, had a solo to sing. Nobody grudged the -bright, good-natured boy his many appearances, but Frances felt that -they ought to suffice for both. - -The concert swung gaily on its way. The First Little Nigger, still -sooty of face and brilliant of attire, sang _Hard times come again no -more_ to his own banjo accompaniment, and was rewarded by the sight -of many pocket-handkerchiefs surreptitiously drawn forth. There was -a flute solo from Guy Gordon, a musician whose fancy usually hovered -between the jew’s-harp and the concertina; but on this occasion he -gave a “Romance” for his more classical instrument, and moved to -emulation every rustic owner of a penny whistle. Three little lads, -dressed as sailor-boys, were immensely popular in a nautical ditty, -which cast a general defiance at everybody who might presume to dispute -the sovereignty of _The Mistress of the Sea_; and three little girls -with three little brooms joined in a _Housemaid’s Complaint_, which set -forth in touching terms the sufferings of domestics who were compelled -to be up by ten, and to dine on cold mutton and fried potatoes. Songs, -humorous and pathetic, filled up the concert programme, until it -terminated in a costume chorus, _How to make a Cake_. - -This item was an exemplification of the picturesque possibilities -of familiar things. A table in the middle of the stage was presided -over by Betty, attired in print frock, cap, and apron. In front of -her on the table stood a big basin. To her entered a train of boy and -girl cooks, carrying aloft bags and plates containing materials for -cake-making. A lively song, descriptive of the action, accompanied -Betty’s demonstration of the results of her cookery studies; the cake -was mixed, kneaded, disposed of in a tin, and proudly borne off to an -imaginary stove by Guy Gordon, the biggest baker. The song continued, -descriptive of the delightful anticipations of the cake-makers; and -when Guy returned carrying a huge plum-cake, this was promptly cut into -slices by Betty and distributed among her helpers, who, munching under -difficulties, marched round the stage to a triumphant chorus of “_We’ll -show you how to eat it!_” - -Max was to appear as _Laertes_ in the Travesty, and had hitherto taken -no more distinguished part in the entertainment than the playing of -what it pleased him to call “twentieth fiddle” in the orchestra. -But he now found greatness thrust upon him. No sooner had the cooks -acknowledged their call and vanished, than Harry the giant uprose in -his place, and boldly addressed Mr. Carlyon. - -“Axing parding, sir, if I may make so bold, there’s some of us ’ere--me -and my mates--wot knows as ’ow the young Doc’ can sing a rare good -song. And we takes the liberty of askin’ Master Max to favour us.” - -Harry’s speech created an immediate sensation; but his sentiments -were upheld by prolonged applause from his “mates” and the audience -generally. - -Edward Carlyon successfully maintained a strict impartiality in his -dealings with his pupils; but in his heart of hearts he kept a special -corner for Max Brenton. Well pleased with Harry’s request, he leant -towards the “twentieth fiddle”, and said: - -“You hear, Max? You’re honoured by a distinct invitation; so up with -you to the platform and let’s hear what you can do!” - -Max, covered with blushes, was pushed forward by the entire orchestra, -while Carlyon seated himself in front of the piano. - -“What shall it be, lad?--_The Old Brigade_, I think. Muriel, will you -tell the boys and girls behind to provide Max with a chorus?” - -Max plucked up courage, and obeyed. His slight figure, in its trim Eton -suit, stood out bravely on the platform, reminding Harry and one or -two others of another evening when the boy had sung “against time” to -save a woman from suffering. - -All the Altruists knew _The Old Brigade_, and had chimed in with a -chorus many a time when the Carlyons’ young choristers had held their -merry practices in the boys’ school-room. So the gallant song went -with splendid spirit, and when it reached its last verse the chorus -was reinforced by the greater number of the audience, who proceeded -rapturously to encore themselves. - -Max’s song was an excellent finish to the concert; and then the -onlookers were allowed a few minutes to recover their breath and -discuss the performance, while the stage was made ready for the -Travesty. - -In front reigned mirth, satisfaction, and pleasing hopes of more good -things to come. Behind, the aspect of affairs had changed suddenly. At -the end of Max’s song a letter was handed to Carlyon, whose face, as he -read, became a proclamation of disaster. He was in the little room at -the end of the passage, which had been made ready for the use of the -performers when off the platform; and round him had gathered the boys -and girls who were to figure in the Travesty. - -“Bad news, youngsters,” said Carlyon dismally. “The first hitch in -our evening’s entertainment. I wondered why Frank Temple was so late -in arriving. This letter--which evidently ought to have reached me -before--is to tell me that Mr. and Mrs. Temple have been summoned by -telegram to Mr. Temple’s home, where his father is lying dangerously -ill. The boy was named in the telegram--his grandfather had asked -for him; so of course he has gone with his parents. Now,” continued -Carlyon, looking at the blank faces before him, “I know that all of you -will feel very much for Frank; but just at present we must think also -of the poor folk in the school-room, who are waiting patiently for your -appearance. What shall we do? Shall we give up the Travesty? Or will -someone go on and read the part of the _King_?” - -“Oh, don’t stop the play! Let’s act!” cried some. - -“Max and Austin’s fencing-match is so funny!” cried others. - -“Well, I think myself we ought to proceed, and do our best. The -question is, who can read the _King_? It must be someone who knows -something about the piece--” - -“Frances!” exclaimed Max immediately. “Frances has been at all the -rehearsals; and she has often read the _King’s_ part when she was -hearing Austin and me say ours!” - -Frances at first held back; but when she saw that she was really the -best person to fill the breach, she made no more ado, but began to look -about for a costume. - -“If only Frank had thought of sending his,” said Max, regretful of -the crimson velvet and ermine. “It would have done quite nicely for -Frances. The tunic would have covered her frock.” - -“We can hardly borrow it without leave, though. Well, I must let you -settle the knotty point of costume for yourselves, youngsters, while I -help my sister with the stage.” - -Carlyon rushed off, nodding encouragingly to Frances, who had her eyes -on the play-book and on every corner of the room in turn. Suddenly she -darted over to a table covered by a crimson cloth. - -“Hurrah!” she cried. “Here’s my tunic. A little ingenuity will soon -drape it gracefully about my kingly person.” - -Frances had seized the table-cover; and now, amid peals of laughter, -she began, with Austin’s assistance, to pin herself into it. Max -vanished from the room, returning in three minutes with two articles -borrowed from friends among the Altruists’ relations in the audience. - -“See, Frances! This fur-lined cape will make you a lovely cloak, and -this fur tippet, put on back to front, will be your regal collar. About -your neck and waist we will dispose the fairy prince’s gold chains, and -he shall lend you his sword, likewise his cap.” - -“Not his cap,” amended Austin, who was dancing a triumphant jig round -his sister. “Frank left his crown here yesterday after rehearsal, and -Frances can wear that.” - -“And her sleeves will look all right. What a good thing your frock is -of black velvet, Frances!” - -By the time the young costumiers had finished they had turned out quite -an effective _King_. Frances’s dark hair, waving to her shoulders, was -pronounced “a first-rate wig” when the regal crown had been fitted -on. The Carlyons declared the new _King_ to be admirably attired; and -Frances, relieved of anxiety about her costume, entered fully into the -fun. - -“I’m a ‘king of shreds and patches’ like Shakespeare’s man,” she -chuckled; “but so long as my various garments hold together, I don’t -mind! Max, if I could get a few minutes to look through this long -speech, I believe I could manage without the book. I’ve heard Frank say -his part ever so often.” - -“You’ve helped everybody, Frances,” said Max, remembering gratefully -his own indebtedness, “and now you’re going to shine yourself. You’ll -have time to read up your part before you go on.” - -The spirit of true burlesque is rare among amateurs; but youngsters who -act for the fun of the thing, and not merely to “show off”, are often -capable of excellent comedy. Carlyon had chosen with care the boys -and girls who were to perform in the Travesty, and had trained them -sufficiently but not too much. Entering completely into the humour of -parody, one and all acted with plenty of vigour and without a trace -of self-consciousness. Max and Austin had arranged a serio-comic -fencing-match, which was brought to a melodramatic finish by a clever -rapier trick. Frances’s play with the poisoned cup sent Betty, the -lackadaisical _Queen_, into a series of private giggles, which she -was compelled to conceal by an unexpectedly rapid demise. At last the -curtain rang down on Austin’s farewell speech. - -The boys and girls who during the long evening had figured on the -platform assembled in the green-room for a brief chatter over their -experiences. They were in high spirits and honestly happy; for they -felt that they had done their best, and that their best had given -several bright and pleasant hours to folks whose lives were but dull -and gray. - -Buns, sandwiches, and lemonade provided the Altruists’ modest -refreshment. They had thoroughly earned their supper, but they hurried -through it in order to make an appearance at the feast-tables of their -guests. There was neither time nor place for change of dress; so the -actors in their motley garb now mingled with their audience, greatly -to the latter’s delight. Sweets and bon-bons tasted twice as good when -handed round by Teddy in pink satin, and Lilla in white; and a whole -troop of little fairies dispensed almonds and raisins at a lavish -rate. The movement of the guests to the supper-tables at the end of -the room was the signal for the retirement of upper-class Woodend to -the neighbourhood of the platform, whence it watched its young people -justifying their motto, “Help Others”. - -“Austin,” whispered Frances, “aren’t you sorry poor Jim isn’t here?” - -“Jim?” questioned her brother. “Why, wouldn’t he have been a cut above -these good folk?” - -“Oh, yes, of course. He wouldn’t need anyone to give him supper or a -woollen comforter, I suppose. But he could have seen the acting, and he -would have helped us.” - -“Really, Frances, you are ridiculous. You have such a fancy for Jim--as -though we could have had a fellow like that tagging on to us all the -evening.” - -“I could have put up with him very well,” returned Frances calmly; “and -he would have been very useful. Don’t _you_ be ridiculous, Austin.” - -Austin muttered something about not wanting “loafing cads” in his -vicinity; and was called so severely to task for his unmannerly epithet -that he retired to grumble mildly in Max’s ear. But Max, too, liked -Jim, and regretted the lad’s absence and the cause of it. He was sure -that Frances was thinking pitifully of Jim’s lonely Christmas, and his -sympathy was with Frances, not with her brother. Austin saw that his -grumble must seek another sympathizer, and while looking for one, he -noticed an old man’s empty plate, and flew to fulfil the duty of an -Altruist host. - -Supper was followed by a distribution of gifts. The presents numbered -two for each person, and the ambition of the society had decreed that -they should be strictly useful and of a kind to give some real comfort -to the recipients. Thus, flannel shirts, knitted vests and socks, and -cardigan jackets were handed to the men; while the women received -warm skirts, bodices, and petticoats, “overall” aprons, and woollen -shawls. Crimson was the hue of most of the clothing, and Max’s prophecy -concerning the Altruist village seemed on the way to fulfilment. Thanks -came heartily and in full measure from the delighted guests; and when -their best spokesman had been put forward to offer the gratitude of -the poor of Woodend to “the young ladies and gentlemen what had shown -them a kindness they’d never forget”, good-byes became general, the -village-folk trooped out, and the happy evening was really over. - - * * * * * - -Mrs. Morland went home alone in her carriage, promising to send it back -for Frances and Austin, who were to take Max with them and set him down -at his father’s gate. A wonderful amount of consideration from Woodend -invalids had left Dr. Brenton free for a whole evening, and among the -Altruist audience not one had been happier than he. Now he went off -with his borrowed bath-chair and its weakly occupant, meaning not only -to see poor Mrs. Baker safely indoors, but to satisfy himself that her -husband, who had stayed sulking at home, was propitiated by the present -of warm shirts and socks which Frances had chosen as the likeliest -pacifiers. - -The boys were still in their fancy dress, and obliged to wait in the -school-room for Mrs. Morland’s carriage; but Frances, in her cosy frock -and jacket, could defy the snow without, and she accompanied some of -her friends to the gate and saw them off. As the last carriage full of -boys and girls rolled smoothly away, she still stood thoughtfully by -the roadside. Frances was thoroughly content; her heart seemed full -of peace and good-will to all the world, and lifting her face to the -moonlit sky, she searched half-consciously for those old friends Orion -and the Plough, while her happy young face smiled in memory of all the -joys that evening had brought for her. - -“She does look kind!” mused a lad hidden in the shadow of some bushes -opposite. “Kind and gentle and good! It was worth while to tramp from -Rowdon to see Miss Frances’s face to-night. She has been making folks -happy, as her way is, God bless her! I was afraid before I came,--but -now I’m glad. Miss Frances will be kind, I know she will. The boy’s -different, and I doubt he’ll be against me; but what shall I care, if -Missy is kind?” - -Jim East lifted his head, and stood erect and brave. - -“Nay, what should I care, with all the world against me, so long as -Missy was kind?” - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -PHOTOGRAPHERS ABROAD. - - -Mrs. Morland, as may have been gathered, was in a sense an indulgent -mother, and her children lacked nothing necessary for their health or -their comfort. Her personal interest in their private concerns, their -hobbies, their undertakings, their studies, was regulated entirely -by what she estimated as social opinion--by the effect which the -particular hobby or pursuit in question might have on the position of -Frances and of Austin among their juvenile fellows, and in the eyes of -Mrs. Morland’s own acquaintances. - -Thus, she had almost from the first set the seal of her approval on the -Society of the Altruists; because she observed that Frances, as founder -and leader of that energetic body, had secured a kind of sovereignty -over her comrades; also, that the majority of the better-class -Woodendites spoke well of the young people’s efforts, and gave honour -to Frances as the inspirer of all their best intentions. Greater -still was the credit given to the girl for the modesty which made her -obviously unaware of the good opinions she had won from her mother’s -friends, and for the unselfishness which made her eager to admire the -generous labours of her supporters; and Mrs. Morland was careful to -do nothing to make Frances more self-conscious, and therefore less -attractive to critical eyes. - -At home, the mother was content to give an occasional peep into the -club-room when a meeting was in full swing, and to subscribe liberally -when funds were requisitioned; abroad, she was fond of allusions to -“my lassie’s up-to-date fancies,--which really, you know, are quite -amusingly altruistic”. Mrs. Morland was by no means a popular person, -in spite of her local distinction. Woodend happened to be favoured -with, for its size, an unusually large number of well-to-do residents; -and among these, by birth, by fortune, by knowledge of the world, Mrs. -Morland had an undoubted prominence. When qualities of head and heart -were considered, her claims were less readily admitted. - -Yet she was, in a degree, an able woman, though her talents were purely -social, and she had no sympathy with art or with letters except in so -far as they might help to secure social consideration. Austin inherited -a share of his mother’s gifts, and was naturally her favourite child. -In Frances she detected all those qualities which had least appealed to -her in her husband’s character; but as most people seemed to find these -traits admirable, she gave them toleration on account of their value in -the eyes of others. - -Christmas-day dawned in what the girls and boys of Woodend called -“proper weather”--snow under foot, clear blue sky and sunshine -overhead. Frances and Austin had worked hard on Christmas-eve at church -decorations, proving themselves Muriel Carlyon’s best allies. Their -mother viewed without enthusiasm the ornamentation of her pictures, -furniture, and walls, when the materials were holly and fir. Indeed, -she called such time-honoured greenstuff “messy nonsense”, which soiled -whatever it touched when fresh, and covered the floors with litter when -dry. In church, she found it unnecessary to disapprove of anything -which had the sanctity of tradition to support its use; and so she -willingly granted Muriel’s request that the two youngsters might be -spared to help her, and allowed to share her luncheon in order to save -the time spent in going home. - -Muriel Carlyon was a popular person both in school and out of it, but -she certainly shone as a holiday companion. She was as invariably -ready to interest herself in the latest schemes of harmless frolic -as in the soberer matters of daily life and duty, and had been quite -as enthusiastic as any of her pupils over the plans for the great -entertainment, quite as delighted at its triumphant success. There were -a few among her younger friends who knew that her sympathies could go -deeper still, that she could sorrow with the sorrowing, and point the -way to seek for comfort. - -The old rector, Dr. Stansby, looked on Edward and Muriel Carlyon almost -as a son and daughter. They spent with him all they could of their -scanty leisure, and held it a pleasant duty to see that a sense of -growing infirmity should not touch his peace of mind. No parish matter -could be neglected while these two workers watched over affairs, and -Edward tackled bravely the few abuses which old-fashioned prejudices -had rendered unassailable in the days when Dr. Stansby had laboured -alone. - -The brightness of the Christmas morning with which my story is -concerned was reflected in the faces of Mrs. Morland’s pair of -youngsters as they ran into the breakfast-room to see what fate -had sent them. Their mother followed at leisure, her simple winter -morning-gown falling gracefully about her stately person. She never -had been known to be in a hurry; and of late years the assured comfort -of her circumstances, and the small demands made on her for sustained -exertion, had weakened further her naturally inert disposition. But -she had a smiling face for her children when they sprang back to throw -their arms about her and offer grateful kisses. - -Before Austin’s place at table stood a beautiful enlarging camera, -which would surely be a priceless help in the practice of the “dark -art”; he found, too, a fine array of photographic plates and papers, -and the latest thing in “print-washers”, as a gift from his sister. -All these matters being of moment in regard to his latest hobby, the -boy was certain that no present could have pleased him better. Frances -found herself the possessor of a beautiful writing-case, fitted with -everything necessary and unnecessary. Austin had amused himself and -Max vastly by a special journey to Exham in order to select his -present, which now astonished his sister’s eyes. It was a plain wicker -work-basket of enormous proportions; and half an hour of coaxing had -induced Muriel Carlyon to line the monster with crimson silk, on which -were stitched at regular intervals great white letters: - -“FRANCES THE ALTRUIST”. - -The peals of laughter with which Frances received this offering, and -in which Austin joined, almost upset Mrs. Morland’s equanimity; but -just as she began to think of frowning, the lively couple calmed down -and pounced on the row of new story-books, which were to be a joint -possession. - -Frances remembered for long afterwards the special peacefulness and -happiness which seemed to mark the morning of that Christmas-day. Never -had she more thoroughly enjoyed the service in the old Woodend church, -with the rector’s benign face seeming to greet each well-known member -of his congregation, and Edward Carlyon reading the familiar prayers, -and Muriel accompanying on the organ her well-trained choir of boys and -men. The choristers were recruited chiefly from Mr. Carlyon’s pupils, -so that Austin was the soloist that morning, and sang with bird-like -clearness a vocal hymn of joy and praise. - -The children dined late with their mother on great occasions, and now, -after a luncheon of sandwiches, mince-pies, jelly, and cream, they -hurried out for a run which might assist digestion. Austin carried his -camera, for he pined to get a snow-effect, and thought that the view of -Woodend village from the elevation on which his mother’s house stood -would answer admirably for a subject. - -“It wasn’t worth while to bring my camera-case,” announced the boy, as -he darted round from a side-door his arms burdened with impedimenta. -“You won’t mind carrying something, will you, Frances, as it’s such a -little way we’re going?” - -“I always carry something,” replied his sister calmly; “and I would -have come to help you collect your baggage if Mater hadn’t called me -back to write a letter for her. It was only a little letter, but it -took time. Everything takes time. I wish the days were twice as long.” - -“Well, as they’re at their shortest now, and we’ve only two hours of -light before us, we’d better scurry. There, I’ve dropped my dark cloth, -and I can’t stoop to pick it up.” - -“Mercy! Are your dark slides in it?” - -“No, better luck.” - -“But ought you to carry them without any covering? I’m sure light will -get in and fog the plates when the sun shines like this.” - -“It’s December sun,” said Austin testily. “And what’s the use of -calling the slides ‘dark’ if they let in the light?” - -“I don’t know; but surely you remember last week, that waster you got--” - -“If you’re going to begin by talking about wasters--!” - -“Oh, never mind, dear!” cried Frances hastily, remembering that -Austin’s “wasters”, as he called his spoilt plates, were sore points. -The glory of his few photographic successes could hardly, as yet, be -said to atone for the bitterness of almost universal failure. - -Austin had pulled three dark slides from under one arm, a tripod from -under the other, and had held towards Frances the racked-out camera he -had hugged to his breast. - -“If you’ll carry this tricky thing I’ll be awfully obliged,” he said -piteously. “I’m in mortal fear of dropping it and smashing my lens.” - -“All right!” agreed Frances. “Wrap the slides in the dark cloth and -I’ll take them also. That’s the way. Now, let’s run.” - -So Austin shouldered the tripod, and off they went. Down the -carriage-drive to the gate, and then along the road overlooking the -village till they reached the desired spot. Here they cried a halt, and -Austin set up his tripod. - -“No cap on the lens!” exclaimed Frances in dismay. - -“Oh, crikey! Why didn’t you tell me when I handed you the wretched -thing?” - -“I never looked at the lens. I thought you would have made sure you had -everything before you came downstairs. Not that I need have thought -so,” added Frances grimly. “Last time, you forgot the dark cloth; and -the time before, when Max was with us, don’t you remember--?” - -“There you are again with your ‘rememberings’!” muttered Austin. “A -fellow can’t be expected to keep his wits about him with you and Max -chattering like fun.” - -“Oh, I dare say!” laughed Frances. “Here, take the camera, and I’ll run -back for the cap.” - -“Hang it, can’t I use my hand? I’m sure I’d cover the lens all right.” - -“I’m sure you wouldn’t! Wait, and I won’t be long.” - -Frances scudded away, but when she had gone almost out of sight, -suddenly turned and scudded back again. - -“I suppose you have filled the slides?” she inquired. - -“Filled them!” ejaculated Austin. “Why,” he began lamely, “weren’t they -full? I never thought of that. And I want slow plates.” - -“You dreadful goose!” cried Frances; and picking up the slides, she -raced away again. - -Arrived in the dark-room, she found that only one of the double slides -possessed its piece of black card for dividing the two plates. A search -for the missing necessaries delayed her a good deal, and might have -ruffled her temper had she not become resigned to photographic muddles. - -“Here I am at last!” she remarked cheerfully, as she came up to Austin, -who remained seated in philosophic calm on the top of a five-barred -gate. “There were no cards in two of the slides.” - -“Oh!” remarked Austin, “I thought perhaps you’d lost the cap.” - -“_I_ had lost it!” - -“Well--it might have lost itself. Thank you ever so much for going.” - -“Let’s make a start, Austin. The sun’s sinking down into the mist.” - -“That’s all right. It says in my photographic handbook there are -‘immense possibilities in mist and cloud’; and also, that ‘there is -pictorial value in a gate or a stile carefully placed’. Now, I haven’t -been wasting my time while you’ve been away; I’ve been thinking over -what that chap wrote. And I’ve made up my mind to get the mist and the -cloud and this gate into my photograph.” - -“Likewise the windmill, the group of poplars, and the whole expanse of -Nature, I presume?” observed Frances sarcastically. - -“I dare say I could edge in the poplars--my lens has a wide field,” -said the photographer. “The windmill is behind our backs.” - -“I thought you were going to take the village. And you can’t see the -village through the gate or over it. You must open the gate and go into -the field to get the view we wanted.” - -“Humph! I believe I’ll give up the village in favour of the gate. I’m -certain I can ‘carefully place’ the gate on my ‘neg.’, so as to give it -‘pictorial value’; and a gate is easier than a whole village. Besides, -the cloud and the mist will go in of themselves, not to mention your -poplars.” - -“Get your beloved gate on the ground-glass, and we’ll settle.” - -This Austin proceeded to do, while Frances patiently held the cap--the -sixth which had been bought for this particular camera. Each of the -remaining five had been dropped and trodden into a shapeless mass in -what its owner called “moments of remarkable enthusiasm”. Anticipating -such a moment, Frances thought it well to watch over the survivor. - -“I’m doing my best,” announced the operator from the enveloping folds -of his dark cloth, “but those poplars are awful worrying. They don’t -work in nicely with the gate when it’s ‘carefully placed’.” - -“Leave them out.” - -“Oh, not when I’ve promised you,” said Austin courteously. “There, I’ve -focussed the lot somehow. Just take a peep, Sis, and admire my work.” - -Frances accordingly concealed the greater part of her person from view -beneath the dark cloth--which, it may be noted, was of proportions as -Brobdignagian as Frances’s work-basket, in order to elude the light -which like a fiend seemed to pursue Austin’s dark slides. - -“I see the gate on the extreme left,” commented the critic, “and half -the poplars on the extreme right, and a long strip of hedge cutting the -picture nearly in two, and a foreground muddled into nothing--” - -“You must have a muddled foreground,” interrupted Austin. “It’s -artistic.” - -“Well, I like to tell a bush from a wall myself,” said Frances; -“but I suppose you’re an impressionist, like those people your -photographer-man writes about. There’s plenty of cloud and mist, -Austin; and if you don’t think a picture with just a gate and poplars, -and a hedge and an impressionist foreground, rather dull--” - -“I’d have liked a figure or two, ‘to give interest’,” admitted the -handbook student. “Of course I can put you in.” - -Frances groaned. She always was “put in”,--with frightsome results. - -“Hallo!” shouted Austin just then, “here come two jolly figures for me!” - -Frances looked, and saw Max Brenton and Betty Turner tramping through -the snow at a pace dictated by Betty’s aversion to undue haste. Max -lugged a big basket in one hand and a small one in the other, and was -trying to keep up his circulation by whistling vigorously. Betty was -pensive, and disinclined at the moment for conversation. - -As soon as the two pairs of youngsters hailed each other from afar, -they began, after the fashion of their age and kind, to rush together -as though they had been opposing currents of electricity. They met with -a bump and a shock and a great deal of laughter. - -“We were just coming to you,” said Betty. “At least, I was. Mamma has -some friends staying with her, and this morning each of them gave me -something for our Society stores--” - -“How kind of them!” - -“It was rather decent. So I thought I’d like you to have the things, -as it’s Christmas-day; and the servants were fearfully busy, so I just -took the basket to bring it myself. Coming up the hill I got so hot and -tired, and I just sat down on my basket--” - -“And might have been sitting there yet!” ejaculated Max tragically. - -“Only Max came and helped me up, and carried the basket. It was nice of -him, only he’s always in such a hurry. In the other basket, the little -one, he has some nonsense of his own--” - -“That’s what she calls Dad’s prescriptions.” - -“Oh, I hope they’re not ‘every four hours’ bottles!” cried Austin. “Do -look, Max. Perhaps, by luck, they’re ‘at bed-time’ potions. I want you -and Betty to be figures for me.” - -“Got out the camera? My, what larks!” - -The boys immediately set off at the best pace permitted by the baskets, -Austin giving a hand with the altruistic burden. The girls followed, at -Betty’s leisure. - -“There’s no hurry about Dad’s things,” remarked Max, setting his -load down by the roadside and dashing at the camera. Max could be -enthusiastic with anybody. “What are you taking, old fellow? The lens -doesn’t seem to be pointing anywhere.” - -“It’s pointing at a pictorial gate, an impressionist foreground, half a -group of poplars, and any amount of mist and cloud ‘thrown in’. Frances -actually says my view will be dull!” - -“Let’s look.” - -Max accordingly popped under the cloth, and presently emerged with a -somewhat puzzled and dejected appearance. - -“I suppose it’s all right,” he remarked humbly to the owner of the -camera; “though things do seem a little mixed in front.” - -“Poor Max! He doesn’t appreciate the charms of impressionism,” said -Frances, coming up arm in arm with the serene Betty. - -“Ha! there’s another figure for me!” cried Austin next. “My star’s -overhead this afternoon. Fly, Max, and tell Florry to hurry up. She’s -the very thing for a photograph. There’s ‘pictorial value’ in any girl -with long hair and an animated expression.” - -Max “flew” as desired; and, while he ran--by way of saving -time,--acquainted Florry at the top of his voice with the honour in -store for her. Florry naturally flew to meet the honour, reached Max -midway, caught his hand, and dashed wildly back. They landed, at full -pelt, in the middle of Frances, Betty, Austin, the camera, and the -baskets. In the result, Austin and the smaller basket became as mixed -as the impressionist foreground. - -“Goodness!” said the boy ruefully, picking himself up. “I’ve squashed -your basket, Max, and all your father’s things are running out in -streams!” - -The entire company precipitated themselves on the snow to examine the -ruin. - -“It wasn’t medicine--it was port-wine,” confessed Max in sorrow; “Dad -was sending it to old Briggs. Janet had made him some jelly and stuff, -too. You needn’t mind, though, Austin; it was my fault.” - -“Bosh!” - -“You needn’t mind, either of you,” said Frances. “Mamma will give us -some more port-wine, and we’ll beg a jelly from cook.” - -“Thank you,” said Max fervently. “You’re awfully kind, -Frances,--Frances the Altruist!” - -“Now for the figures!” Austin sprang with recovered glee to his camera. -“You’d better all stand nicely up against my carefully-arranged gate.” - -“But why should we all stand up against a gate?” objected Betty. “Let -half of us, at least, sit down.” - -“Why should you sit down in the snow?” inquired Austin sensibly. “I -should say that, for choice, you’d rather stand up.” - -“I could sit on my basket,” murmured Betty. But she allowed Austin to -“place” her, as carefully as any handbook could desire, exactly against -the middle of the gate, with Florry and Max on either hand. - -“Aren’t we a bit stiff?” suggested Max mildly. “Mightn’t I sit on top -of the gate, instead of standing in a row with the girls? Or, as Betty -likes sitting, couldn’t she mount the gate?” - -“Catch me!” cried Betty. - -“I’d hold you on,” said Max accommodatingly. - -“No, indeed!” said Austin severely; “Betty would block out my best -clouds. And if you held her on, Max, I couldn’t take your eyes. I don’t -fancy portraits when you can’t see the folks’ eyes.” - -“I could turn my face to you,” said Max persuasively, with a lingering -fondness for his bright idea. - -Austin was immovable in his determination to arrange his friends in -line, and to photograph all the eyes they could present to his camera. - -Finally, after the usual agonized commands to his sitters, Austin -reached the vital moment and removed the cap from his lens. He remained -then in a state of frantic uncertainty as to when he should put it on -again; and remained uncertain so long that, before he could settle the -important point, the six eyes watching his changeful countenance and -palpitating person began to twinkle, and Betty giggled outright. - -“There!” said the photographer, with the calmness of despair, “that’s -another plate done for!” - -“Oh, I’m so sorry!” said Betty penitently. - -“It isn’t as though it would have been a common picture either,” -continued Austin stonily; “we’ve lost a really good thing. Not so much -a snow-effect as a figure-study, with mist and clouds and poplars.” - -Betty was overwhelmed with shame. - -“If only I could have made up my mind!” broke out the artist bitterly. -“If only I could have made up my mind a moment sooner, I should have -capped the lens and saved my best picture!” - -“Austin dear,” remarked Frances quietly, “you have six plates in your -slides.” - -This simple speech effected an immediate transformation. Austin -remembered that his little all in the way of plates had not been torn -from him. Betty recovered her spirits, and having magnanimously offered -to “stand out, in case she spoilt another”, was warmly pressed to -remain in and be immortalized. Frances suggested that, after removing -the cap, Austin should count ten under his breath, and then do the -deed. Florry added the useful hint that if Betty did not fix her gaze -on the photographer’s worried countenance she might be better able to -control her own. - -“Very well,” said Austin graciously, “you may turn your head just -a trifle, Betty, and stare at that fir-tree. But I must have your -eyes on the camera, Florry; and I’d like one or two of your curling -locks pulled over your shoulder to show in front. I want to take your -long hair and your animated expression. I believe,” finished Austin -joyfully, “this picture will be better than the other. I hadn’t -remembered the ‘pictorial value’ of Florry’s curls!” - -After several agitated moments, the photographer announced that his -mission was accomplished. - -“I don’t believe any of you turned a hair,” he remarked gratefully. -“I’m no end obliged to you. Let’s all tear off home and develop this -plate.” - -“Oh, Austin!” remonstrated Frances; “you’re always in such a hurry! Do -let’s take some more pictures first.” - -“All right. I’ll tell you what. We’ve six plates; one’s spoilt, and -one’s properly exposed. That leaves four: one for each of you. I’ll sit -on the gate, and watch you take them. Only do be a little quick, for -I’m burning to develop my beautiful figure-study.” - -A chorus of thanks applauded this generosity; though, to tell truth, -Austin’s possessions were always freely at the disposal of everybody. -All the present party of friends knew enough of the photographic art to -be able to “take” something--what, they were not quite sure until their -work had gone through “development” at the hands of Austin or Frances. - -Frances now announced that her choice of subject should be the village -of Woodend, from the brow of the hill whereon she stood. Betty wished -to take a portrait of Frances and Florry. Max was already focussing -Austin, as the latter perched on the gate,--“so as to give the girls -time to think”. Florry declined to disclose her purpose till her -comrades had had their turns. - -Austin’s eyes beamed with good-humoured triumph, as he obligingly -turned them full on his friend; and Max “took” the eyes and their owner -without any discomfiting entreaties for attention and tiresome worry -about detail. - -Betty was so charmed with Austin’s pose that she insisted on Frances -and Florry displacing him and mounting the gate. - -“I shall take you large,” she observed ambitiously; “just as big as I -can get you on to the ground-glass.” - -The sitters made anguished efforts to keep still while Betty, who -despised haste in photographic exposure as in everything, counted sixty -aloud. - -“I’ve given my plate a minute,” she said with satisfaction. “Now -something’s sure to come up.” - -Frances carried the camera into the field, and focussed her “view”. - -“Oh, put in a few figures to give interest!” begged Austin. “My -handbook says they’re an enormous improvement to a quiet country -landscape.” - -“Well, if Max doesn’t mind, he might just run across the field to that -stile leading to the brook. He could be crossing over it, as though he -were going to the village by the short cut.--When you’re half over it, -Max, you might stand still, and--and--just try to look like moving.” - -Max ran to execute the required task, and his dramatic instincts -brought him to a pause in an attitude quite suggestive of motion. - -“But he’s got his back to us,” objected Austin loudly. “We can’t see -his eyes. Hi, Max! Turn round, I say!” - -“No, no!” shouted Frances. “Keep still!--I couldn’t see his eyes if -he turned this way, Austin; he’s too far off. This is a view, not a -portrait.” - -“Oh!” said Austin in disgust; “you could easily have made it a -figure-study.” - -Frances, however, appeared satisfied, and speedily recalled Max. To -Florry now fell the post of responsibility, and the last plate. - -Florry, as dramatist, author, poet, painter, and musician, was easily -first among the artistic youth of Woodend. Her social qualities were -as naught in the eyes of Mrs. Morland, for she did not understand how -to appear “to advantage” before select circles of her elders, and -among her fellows she held her many gifts as the property of all. When -the universal voice demanded it, Florry emerged from her shell, and -wrote, painted, or played to order, without even the affectation of -incompetence. She was the sole darling of a refined and modest home, -where her talents were wisely nourished and never overstrained. - -Florry, with a thoughtful brow, now delivered herself: - -“I wish you would all go and look at Max’s basket again.” - -“Why? What for?” - -“I mean, just as you did before. Frances and Betty squatting anyhow in -the snow; Austin standing up with his legs apart, his cap pushed back, -his hands in his pockets, and looking awfully ashamed of himself; Max -down on one knee, holding the broken bottle, and with such a dismal -face.” Florry caught hold of the camera and led the way back to the -roadside. She had an idea. - -“It will be a picture--we’ll call it ‘Disaster!’,” she went on rapidly. -“Frances and Betty will be showing each other the wasted jelly and -beef-tea. It won’t be acting--it will be real.” - -The young people threw themselves with their usual enthusiasm into -Florry’s plan. As they grouped on the snow, Florry, who was careful of -details, requested Austin to turn up his collar in consideration of -the wintry atmosphere she wished to preserve in the composition of her -picture, and implored him to look at the ruin he had wrought, and not -to stare, round-eyed, at the camera. - -“Is it a quick plate?” she asked him. - -“No;--I’m sorry. My handbook says slow plates are best for -snow-effects; and when we came out, I meant--” - -“Never mind! Just wait a moment, as quiet as you can, while I draw my -shutter. But when I say ‘Now!’ mind you don’t wink an eye.” - -“Winking an eye,” began Austin eagerly, “wouldn’t show on a slow plate. -It--” - -“Hush--sh--sh! We sha’n’t hear Florry’s ‘Now!’” - -The group waited and listened. - -“I’ve done,” said Florry calmly. And she capped her lens as she spoke. - -“Why, you never said ‘Now’!” - -“And I’m not going to. I wasn’t likely to let you all look like -statues.” - -“We’ve been ‘took’ unawares!” cried Austin, dancing wildly round Max -and the basket. - -“Florry’s a base deceiver!” said Frances, chuckling over the little -ruse. “Now we’ll pack our traps and learn our fate in the dark-room.” - -Subsequent proceedings in the ammonia-perfumed apartment need not be -here described, but I give the result. - -Austin’s developed plate revealed the distressing fact that a trifling -twist of the camera had caused the disappearance of the half-group of -poplars. There remained to him the gate, with a tin-soldier row of -diminutive figures in front of it--their backs to the fading light, and -their faces consequently indistinguishable as to eyes and all other -features; a long stretch of hedge, running aimlessly across the picture -to the right as though seeking a lost vanishing-point; a foreground -more mixed than the most ardent impressionist could have believed -possible; and a dark expanse of nothing where the mist and clouds ought -to have been. - -Max had three portraits of Austin. That is to say, his figure -faithfully represented Austin at three different moments, as the model -had oscillated on his slippery perch. - -Betty’s desire for size had given her two gigantic heads, which -acknowledged her leisurely exposure by deliberately fading away -before her anxious eyes, leaving her with a coal-black plate and a -disappointed soul. - -Frances’s lights were a little hard and her shadows a little heavy; -but Woodend village loomed with no more than artistic vagueness on -her plate, and her short exposure had preserved her mist and clouds. -And Max’s far-off figure was quite life-like. Frances hoped that -her negative would, after all, yield a decent print, and Austin was -consoled by the thought that Woodend village had been photographed at -last. - -There was no light in the dark-room save that which came from Austin’s -ruby lamp, and a flickering reflection through the red-paned window of -the waning day without. Frances developed Florry’s plate with friendly -care, and announced results to the group peering over her shoulders. - -“It’s coming up!” was the first exciting news. (Don’t press so, Austin -dear; you’re shaking my arm, and I can’t rock the dish properly.) -“Oh, it’s coming up all over, quite slowly, and ever so nicely! Not -those splashes of black here and there--which just mean fearfully -high high-lights, and nothing else in particular,--and not black fog -everywhere, like poor Betty’s. Oh, it’s coming more, it’s getting -plain! There’s Austin’s furry collar, and Betty’s woolley cloud, and -Max’s black collar--I mean, his white collar showing black! And -there’s the basket, and the broken bottle, and the spoilt jelly! It’s -lovely! I think all the details have come out now. Shall I stop?” - -“Oh, no!” pleaded Austin. “Make it pretty dense, then we’ll see -ourselves through the back.” - -So Frances resigned herself to future slow printing, and developed a -good, strong negative, which, when fixed, rinsed, carried out to the -brightest light attainable, and examined through the back over a black -cloth, was found to reveal a delightfully natural presentment of the -agitated group round about the broken basket. - -Austin gazed long, and drew a tremendous breath. - -“It’s a dream!” he murmured low, and turned away full-hearted. - -This triumph and Frances’s modest success were carefully consigned -to the plate-washer beneath the running tap, the “wasters” were -thrown aside, and the troop of boys and girls departed to secure the -replenishment of Max’s stores. - -Then the young folks prepared to separate. It was Christmas-day, and -long absence from home was impossible. Max was due at the cottage of -old Briggs, and Frances and Austin must set him on his way. So down the -drive to the gate pelted the lively four, promising themselves many -more exciting hours with the wizard camera, which could turn a roadside -accident into a “dream”. - -Frances was still standing outside the gate, giving a last wave to her -retreating friends, when she caught sight of a dark figure advancing -from the direction of the village. - -“Austin,” she called to her brother, “do come here. I believe I see -poor Jim East. Yes, I’m sure it’s he. Fancy! Oh, poor Jim! Let’s stay -and speak to him.” - -“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t feel like saying--things.” - -“Don’t be so unkind. Surely we can show we’re sorry?” - -“Well, you do the talking, then. I’ll stick here in the shade till I -see what he looks like.” - -“He’s walking very slowly. I’m sure he’s sad. Oh, poor Jim!” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -JIM EAST. - - -Jim East, in his dark-hued mourning garments, had from afar appeared -sad indeed in the eyes of Frances. As he came nearer, she saw signs -not of sadness alone, but of sensations more strange to the girlish -onlooker. The sorrow he had just experienced could hardly account for -the wistful expression in the lad’s face, or for a certain hopefulness -in his bearing. Jim was coming forward to meet, with what courage he -could command, the crucial moment of his young life. He was trying to -assure himself that he had a right to expect that the ordeal would pass -and leave him happy. - -“He is very lonely,” reflected Frances pityingly; “he has begun to feel -that he is lonely. I wish I could comfort him, but I don’t know how.” - -Setting aside all possibility of administering comfort, it must surely -be a simple thing to condole and sympathize with Jim. Frances felt that -she could do both, for she had sincerely liked the old grandfather, and -was glad now to recall the sacrificed holiday hours for which he had -thanked her with moist eyes and grateful lips. She took a step forward -lest Jim should pass her with his usual quiet salute, but she saw that -this had not been his intention. He turned a little, even before she -moved, and directed his course to her without hesitation. - -“She will be kind,” thought the lad as his gaze rested on Frances, and -she greeted him with a smile. “Grandfather was right, he said she would -be kind. If only she knew how I want her to be kind!” - -Jim’s yearning was no more translatable through his face than was his -simple trust in a girl’s faith. Frances had left him the treasured -belief that in her sight his work, however humble, was honourable; -himself, however lowly, above reproach. She had not forced on him, as -had Austin, more than once, the recognition of differences of class, -habit, and attainment. These, she knew, were obvious enough to modest -Jim. Instead, she had shown him a gracious friendliness which had -roused the lad to wondering gratitude; while her intelligent interest -in his monotonous labour had given it value apart from bread-winning -necessity. - -Jim, in his ill-fitting cloth suit of rustic cut, was in Frances’s -eyes a much more pretentious and less picturesque figure than Jim the -blacksmith working at his forge. A little half-conscious regret that -Jim himself was likely to hold a contrary opinion was promptly stifled -by the remembrance that in his case, at least, the wearing of mourning -garb was no meaningless form. - -“Good-evening, Jim!” Frances’s right hand rested lightly on the -half-opened gate which bounded the carriage-drive to Elveley. “I’m -glad you’re here. I’ve wanted to tell you how very sorry I am for your -trouble. It isn’t only I, either; all of us boys and girls are sorry. -Your grandfather was always good to us; and we liked him, ever so much. -Of course,” she went on gravely, “I know that we can’t feel as you do, -because you miss him all day long. But you won’t forget, will you, when -you are sad and lonely, that we are sorry too?” - -“No, Missy,” said Jim in a low voice, “I won’t forget; and I thank you -kindly for speaking so.” - -“Then you will try to cheer up, won’t you, Jim? And we will all come to -see your dear smithy; and you must come sometimes to our meetings and -help us with the village-boys.” - -A scrape of Austin’s foot on the gravel warned Frances of his strong -objection; but at that moment his sister’s thoughts were echoing the -quavering tones of an old man’s voice, begging her, when Jim should be -left solitary, to be kind to the lonely lad. - -“We hope you will come to help us,” persisted the girl. - -“I’ll do anything as you may wish,” Jim replied. “I’ll be proud -to serve you, Missy.” He lifted his head then; the gentleness of -Frances’s accents moving him to look to her face in search of help -for the better meeting of his fate. The lad was in sore need of -some encouragement, for he knew that the errand which had brought -him to Elveley this Christmas-day was one that might well startle, -if it did not repel, his listener. And above all things Jim dreaded -to see Frances’s pain or to hear her reproach. The position he now -occupied was intolerable to the boy’s sensitive nature. But guessing -instinctively that in telling his story the simplest words would be -the best, and the briefest phrases the most acceptable, Jim began his -explanations without any sort of pretence at ingenious circumlocution. - -“I came to see you this afternoon, Missy, because of something you -don’t know about--something Grandfather told me just before he died. -I’m feared--I’m feared it isn’t what you’ll wish to hear. Grandfather -told the doctor, too; but not till he’d promised to keep quiet. -Grandfather wished me to tell you myself. He wished me to tell you on -Christmas-day, because then, he said, folks thought kinder of everyone, -let alone their own kindred. So I’ve been waiting all day, but somehow -I couldn’t bear to come. I wanted to come, but I was feared, in case -Grandfather was wrong when he said you would be kind. He bade me speak -first to you.” - -“Jim,” said Frances slowly, though her heart beat fast, “I don’t -understand you in the very least.” - -“Likely not, Missy. But it’s true what Grandfather told me, and I’ve -brought the papers, as he wished, for Madam to see.” - -“For my mother to see?” asked Frances wonderingly. - -“Ay, Missy. And,” added Jim, with a sudden, natural break in his -self-control, “won’t you please try to be kind to me? I’m your own -father’s son.” - -“What!” exclaimed Frances, drawing back against the gate. “Jim! You! -What do you mean?” - -“I’m Mr. Morland’s eldest son,” said Jim, in hurried tones, vibrating -with mingled hope and fear. The hope was built on memory alone, the -fear was roused by the shrinking dread he had fancied present in -Frances’s face and voice. - -“My mother was Martha East, Grandfather’s only daughter,--there had -been one son, who had died. My mother wished to marry Mr. Morland, but -Grandfather wouldn’t let her, for fear he’d tire of her; so they ran -away, and married without leave. Mr. Morland was good to Mother, and -they were very happy.” - -Jim paused a moment, in keen distress, for he saw that Frances had -grown white, and that she trembled as she leant for support against the -gate. - -“Not long before he married, Mr. Morland had promised a great Society -in London to go for them to some country where he had travelled, and -try to find out something they wanted to know. So when the time came -he was obliged to go right away to some place in Asia; and before he -went he took my mother to her old home--for he had no relations of his -own--and begged Grandfather to take care of her till he came back. -When he’d been away three months, word came to England that he’d been -lost--taken prisoner, and carried off by some robber-tribes. There was -no more heard of him, and Mother began to fret and pine, for it was -said he’d never come home again. Mother lived only a few months after -she’d got the news. She said she couldn’t live without her husband. I -was born two months before she died.” - -Jim hesitated, his voice faltering again as he glanced at Frances’s -face, in which the dread was now too clear to allow of mistake. The -hopefulness left the lad’s tones altogether, and he finished his story -in nervous haste. - -“They thought I’d die too, but I didn’t; and Grandfather, being alone, -except for me, was glad I lived. Mother had called me Austin after my -father, and James after her brother; but Grandfather always called me -Jim. He’d loved his daughter dearly, but he was proud, and didn’t like -her having married among gentlefolk, who’d look down on him as just a -rough farmer. So, seeing he thought as my father was dead, as well as -my mother, he reckoned he’d keep me and bring me up a working-man. - -“I was six months old when Mr. Morland came back. He had been rescued -by some travellers, who had been sent to search for him. When -Grandfather heard the news, he made up his mind as he’d keep me still, -and he did. They said in the certificate as my mother had died of a -fever that was about the village where Grandfather lived then; and -Grandfather took this paper and went to town to meet my father, and -told him how Mother had died, but never a word about me. My father -was dreadfully grieved not to find his wife waiting for him; and -Grandfather told him--quite true--how she’d always loved him, and -fretted after him, and spoken of him tender at the last. - -“Then Grandfather took me away to the north, but he always managed to -know where my father was. He knew when Mr. Morland married again, and -that he had children, and when he died. And a few months ago, knowing -he was failing in health and soon to leave me, he began to think as he -oughtn’t to have kept me away from my father’s folk, so that I’d be -left all alone in the world; and he found out where you were living, -and bought Rowdon Smithy so that we could settle near you. He meant -that some day I should come to you and beg you to be good to me.” Jim’s -eyes and voice pleaded eloquently. “I’m your brother, Missy! your own -father’s son. I’ll always care for you and little master if you’ll let -me. I’d be proud to work for you, only”--Jim sighed forlornly--“there’s -naught you need.” - -Frances stood silent and utterly confused. She might have fancied that -Jim’s sorrow had turned his brain, but for his intense earnestness and -the straightforward way in which he had told his strange story. Again, -she remembered facts which gave the story corroboration. For instance, -the old grandfather’s solemn expressions of pleasure and satisfaction -that he had seen her, and his evident delight in witnessing any -kindness she had shown to his boy. Then Frances knew that her father -had been a distinguished member of a learned Society, and in his youth -had travelled far to serve the cause of science. She had heard of his -romantic imprisonment and rescue; and though she never had been told -that he had been married twice, she saw that in this respect Jim’s -statements might easily be true. Her father had died while she was very -young, and her mother might not have cared to speak, to a mere child, -of her own predecessor. - -As she hesitated, painfully conscious of Jim’s troubled and searching -glances, she was relieved to hear her brother step forward. What Austin -would say she could not guess, but at least his words might help her -own. The boy did not turn to her for prompting, though he stood by her -side, his face flushed and disturbed. - -“Is it all true, Jim East,--what you’ve been telling my sister?” - -Austin’s tone was masterful, and by no means suggestive of a -willingness to believe; but it served to rouse Jim’s pride, which had -refused to help its owner hitherto. The lad gained self-command, and -after answering Austin’s question with a simple “Yes”, turned again -pointedly to Frances for some sort of comment. The girl felt that she -must speak. Her perceptions were always quick, though they gained in -force from her reluctance to hold them final; and now her confusion -vanished before the overwhelming certainty that Jim had spoken the -truth--that he, the uneducated, shy young blacksmith, his face -roughened with exposure, his hands hard with toil, was indeed her own -father’s son, and her kin in blood. - -“It is all true,” said Jim once more. - -“Oh!” cried Frances passionately; “Oh, Jim, I hope it is not true!” - -“Not true!” repeated Jim blankly. “You hope it is not true, Missy? -Why?--I’m rough, maybe,--but I’d never be rough to you. It is true, -Missy; I’ve the papers to show Madam. I’m your father’s eldest child.” - -Jim’s trembling hands sought vaguely in his pockets. - -“Oh, don’t say it--don’t say it!” went on Frances, in extremity of -fear and distress. “It--it couldn’t make any difference if it were -true,--don’t you see? We’re not alike in--in anything; we never could -be alike now. Oh, I don’t know how it sounds--what I’m saying! I dare -say it’s horrid, and conceited, and--and--not fair. But it wasn’t we -who settled whose you should be; and it’s your grandfather’s fault, -not ours!” Frances hurried out her words as though her own ears were -ashamed to listen to them. “He kept you back--he wouldn’t let you -belong to Papa,--and now he wants you to come to us, when it’s too -late.” - -“Too late?” echoed Jim. - -“Yes, it’s too late!” repeated Frances almost fiercely; “you belong to -your mother’s people, not to us. You know there is--a difference. If we -were all little, it wouldn’t matter; but Austin and I are too old not -to feel--to feel--” - -“To feel shame of me, Missy?” suggested Jim quietly. - -The peasant lad was standing erect and calm, and his grave eyes hardly -hinted at the agony which had come to him with the breaking of his -happy dream. If his imagination had idealized this young sister of his, -as well as a future which, in truth, would have been impossible as -he had pictured it, he could find blame for no one save himself. His -memory still dwelt tenderly on his grandfather, and he now wondered -how he ever could have supposed that the daintily-reared young -Morlands would have a thought of toleration for him and his claim of -brotherhood. - -“How can we help feeling ashamed? It’s not our fault!” reiterated -Frances bitterly. - -“You didn’t feel shame to speak to me at the smithy,” said Jim. - -Then Frances, hardly knowing how to account for sensations of repulsion -which she knew to be unworthy, broke into child-like tears. - -“You--you were a very nice blacksmith,” she sobbed, “and your house was -clean and tidy, and we liked to see the forge.” - -“But we don’t exactly want a blacksmith-brother?” added Austin -interrogatively, while he looked curiously at his sister. - -Frances seized his hand, and tugged it nervously. - -“Oh, Austin, come away!” - -“Wait,” interrupted Jim, in a dull voice; “won’t you stay till I’ve -seen Madam? I promised Grandfather I’d see Madam, and show her the -papers, to prove he’d told true. Mayhap she won’t turn from me,--won’t -you wait?” - -“I can’t!” murmured Frances, shrinking as Jim advanced. “And Mamma will -only be angry if you go to her.” - -“I don’t see why she should be angry,” said Austin, who was the best -controlled of the three. “Go up to the front door, Jim East, and -they’ll let you in. Then you’ll see our mother. I’ll wait here.” - -“Austin, come with me!” begged Frances. - -“No--I’ll wait here.” - - * * * * * - -Mrs. Morland laid the papers aside with a little well-bred gesture of -courtesy. Careless her examination of them had seemed to Jim; but in -reality she had grasped their contents accurately, and had no doubt -that they were genuine. The stately, beautifully-dressed woman leaned -back in her luxurious chair, and her fine eyes, which had forgotten -their youthful softness, scanned Jim from head to foot. She seemed to -find his appearance amusing. - -“My good lad,” she said, in her clear, refined voice, “I am quite aware -that I was Mr. Morland’s second wife, and that his first was beneath -him in station. He was an honourable man, and he told me all the facts -of his pretty rustic idyll. I believe that he even told me that the -young woman’s name was Martha East. In any case, there is no reason why -her name should not have been Martha East. Nor is there any reason why -she should not have left a child. I do not wish to profess incredulity -concerning your statement that you are Martha East’s son, and that your -existence was hidden deliberately from Mr. Morland by your grandfather. -Such an action would, of course, be underhand and selfish; but one does -not expect from the uneducated classes a great refinement of motive -or honesty of conduct. It would be unreasonable to do so. It would -have been unreasonable, for instance, if I had supposed that, when -this piece of news was communicated to you, you would have resolved to -spare Mr. Morland’s other children the pain and annoyance of hearing -it also. That would have been the sort of conduct I could have had the -right to expect only from a gentleman. Your grandfather’s training -would naturally teach you differently. It would incline you to take the -course which promised most gain to yourself.” - -Jim raised his eyes and looked steadily at the speaker. - -“I do not blame you,” continued Mrs. Morland, with a quick movement -of deprecation; “your behaviour has been according to your lights. It -makes it the more easy for me to credit your story, which has, however, -no concern for me or my children. As your grandfather probably knew, -Mr. Morland was not a land-owner, and his fortune was absolutely at his -own disposal. Consequently, his will would hold good; and the discovery -of an elder child would in no way affect his provision for my son and -daughter.” - -“Madam--Madam,” said Jim sternly, “you have no right to think as I was -wanting the money!” - -“Then what did you want?” asked Mrs. Morland, smiling slightly. “You -wished, perhaps, that I should adopt you--take you to live here, as my -children’s equal and companion?” - -“No,” said Jim, speaking firmly and bravely, “I did not wish that. I -only hoped as you’d allow I belonged to them, and had a right to care -for them, and--they for me.” - -“Poor boy, you are quite modest and nice! I am afraid you do not -precisely understand social distinctions. Your grandfather made choice -of your future position for you, when he concealed your birth from -my husband. You have been brought up a working-man; and it would be -impossible, as it is quite unnecessary, for you to fit yourself for any -other kind of life.” - -“I had no thought of doing so,” said Jim, maintaining his composure in -spite of failing heart. - -“I have no doubt that when you come to reflect, you will see matters -in a sensible light. For your sake, I am sorry that your grandfather, -having kept silence so long to suit his own convenience, did not keep -it to the end to suit yours. You would have been happier without this -foolish revelation, which I advise you speedily to forget. I will -say nothing more about your coming here; you have merely obeyed your -grandfather’s selfish wish. But there is something I must say concerning -the future.” - -Mrs. Morland raised herself, and, leaning forward, spoke in a firm, -distinct tone, very different from her previous cynical indifference. - -“You must understand, once for all, that I can allow no sort of -acquaintanceship between you and my children. They are mine, and I -have the right to decide what is best for them. They have, I believe, -shown you some kindness--in return, I readily admit, for kindness shown -to them by your grandfather. You and they are therefore quits, and I -wish all intercourse between you and them to cease from this moment. I -understand that your grandfather bought for you a cottage and workshop -at a place called Rowdon, not far from here, and that he provided for -you according to the needs of the station in which he brought you up?” - -“Ay, Madam.” - -“To some extent, then, he justified his conduct. Well, in the same -way I have bought a house here, I have placed my children at a school -where they are happy, I have surrounded them with the comforts, the -pleasures, the luxuries, to which they are accustomed.” - -Mrs. Morland stumbled for a second, as her eyes rested on the rough -clothing and labour-hardened hands of her husband’s eldest son. But if -there was an opening for reproach, Jim did not avail himself of it. - -“I do not envy them their better fortune, Madam. Indeed, I do not.” - -“You have no occasion to. If you have missed what you might have had, -it has been no fault of theirs or mine. I have settled here, in my own -house, and my children are learning to love their home. You, perhaps, -are attached to yours. I have no wish to suggest that you should go -elsewhere, and I should prefer not to do so myself. At the same time, -my resolve that you and they shall hold no intercourse is unalterable; -and I will rather break up my home than have its peace destroyed. If -you will give me your promise to keep silence on this purely private -matter--which never ought to have been brought forward--and to refrain -from forcing yourself on my children, there is no reason why you and -they should not rest undisturbed.” - -Mrs. Morland waited in an anxiety to which her manner gave no clue. - -“I never thought of telling anyone,” said Jim simply. “I never meant to -come here against your will. I’ll promise, as you wish.” - -He picked up the papers Mrs. Morland had laid aside, and thrust them -back into his pocket. The young blacksmith would have been puzzled to -know what was meant by theories of life and analyses of conduct; but he -did not lack intelligence, and he perceived that he was being treated -unworthily by his father’s widow. For the two children he had lately -left he had no condemnation, though from them had come the only stabs -which had reached his heart. - -“I’ll go now, Madam,” he said. “I’ve done as my grandfather bade me, -and I hope you’ve seen as he spoke true.” - -“Yes,” reflected Mrs. Morland, while Jim was closing the door softly -behind him, “the wretched old man did ‘speak true’! That boy has -his father’s eyes and expression--he is like Frances. None of those -marvellous resemblances one reads of in story-books, of course; but -there are sometimes traces which recall personalities more closely than -a stronger likeness would. I hope, I hope against hope, that he’ll keep -his word! If he’s his father’s son, he will.” - - * * * * * - -Down by the garden-gate Frances and Austin Morland awaited Jim’s -return. Frances had striven hard to draw her brother away; but as he -would neither leave his post nor talk to her, she remained by his side, -acutely miserable. With tongues inactive, the girl and boy thought the -more. Frances felt a self-accusing shame which she could not escape -and did not know how to justify. She was not old enough to probe her -nature with searching finger, and find there that very sensitiveness to -the opinions of others which she always had thought so poor a thing. -She wondered only why the sudden appearance of a blacksmith-brother -should seem so great a misfortune to her--to her whom her friends had -nicknamed “Frances the Altruist”, who had appeared to have a mission -for the better instruction of less liberal-minded persons! She was a -sinner against her own code, a traitor to her own cause. - -Frances did not tell herself these facts: she merely felt them in a -kind of vague disturbance. Self-consciousness is not a fault bred in -public schools; and the influence which, though brief in duration, -had so strongly affected her, had not tended to develop unchildlike -self-introspection. - -“Here he comes.” - -Austin spoke at last, and his sister, with a little shiver, drew close -to him. The boy laid his hand on her arm, in a gesture which was at -once affectionate and protecting. - -“Never mind, Sis. We can’t help things happening.” - -Jim’s footsteps drew close. The lad had forgotten Austin’s promise, and -in the gathering darkness did not quickly see the watchers by the gate. -He gazed straight before him as he came, and would have passed the two -Morlands had Austin not stepped forward. - -“You’ve seen my mother, then?” - -Jim, with a start, looked at the speaker, not knowing what his own face -revealed. - -“Yes--I’ve seen Madam.” - -“You showed her those papers--whatever they were? Did she believe what -you said?” - -“Yes. It didn’t make any difference. I’d rather be going, please,” -added Jim, trying to open the gate on which Austin had laid his hands. - -“Stay!... No, never mind! I’ll ask Mamma myself.” Austin opened the -gate, mounted it, and swung out with it into the roadway. From this -convenient perch he fixed a steady and observant gaze on the figure of -the unwelcome visitor. - -“We might have said good-bye to him?” queried Frances in a shaking -voice. - -“Perhaps--if we’d meant it,” returned Austin carelessly. “Frances, I’m -going to Mamma. You come too.” - -So Austin led the way. Mrs. Morland had already sent a servant to look -for her children, and they met the man on the steps. - -In the drawing-room Austin put his questions straight. - -“Jim East has been here, hasn’t he, Mater? He has been telling Frances -and me queer things. Are they true?” - -“How am I to know what he has told you, my darling?” asked Mrs. Morland -diplomatically. - -“He told you too, didn’t he? He said he was our brother.” - -“Your half-brother, dearest,” corrected Mrs. Morland gently. “A mixed -relationship merely. You need not remember it.” - -“Is it true? Is he our father’s son?” - -“I believe he is. I shall make inquiries, of course, but I have no -doubt they will confirm his story. He brought proofs which appeared to -me sufficient; some letters of your father’s, for instance.” - -There was a brief pause, while Austin stood thoughtful, and Frances -scanned her mother’s face. - -“I tell you these things, children,” continued Mrs. Morland -composedly, “because I wish you to understand the position clearly, -and also my wishes with regard to it. This poor lad is probably your -half-brother, but he has been brought up apart from you, and you and he -have nothing in common. There are many reasons why I could not possibly -allow you to be intimate with him. Such persons have different thoughts -and feelings, and use different language, from any I could allow you to -become accustomed to.” - -Austin looked steadily at his mother. - -“I’ve seen Jim East--no! I suppose it’s Jim Morland!--a good many -times, Mater. I don’t know about his ‘thoughts and feelings’, but I’ve -never heard him say a word you wouldn’t have liked us to listen to.” - -Frances saw her brother glance at her for confirmation, and murmured -lamely: “No, he always spoke nicely.” - -“I am glad to hear it,” said Mrs. Morland drily. “That lessens my -regret at having let you both come in contact with your poorer -neighbours. Indirectly, we owe all this nuisance to your fads and -nonsense, Frances.” - -“Mamma,” said the girl, colouring, “Jim’s grandfather evidently meant -to send him here some day. Mr. East came to live at Rowdon on purpose.” - -“It is horrible to think we have lived under a sort of espionage,” said -Mrs. Morland impetuously. “The old man’s conduct, from first to last, -was disgraceful. Let me never hear you speak of him again. And let me -hear no more of the wretched boy he left behind. Austin and Frances, -you will give me your word of honour that you will not again visit -Rowdon Smithy, and that if you come across that lad anywhere you will -take no sort of notice of him. You understand me?” - -Frances murmured a reply. - -“Then I have your distinct promise, Frances?” - -The girl knew that her brother was watching her. He, of course, would -follow where she led. - -“Yes, Mamma.” - -“Yours also, Austin?” - -“Well, ... no.” The boy threw back his head with a proud motion. “See, -Mater, I don’t want to be cheeky, or to vex you ... and what you say -may be all right for Frances. She’s a girl; and though I can’t see -what harm she’d come to at the smithy, I suppose she’s got to stay at -home if you want her to. But I don’t care twopence about charity, and -humble neighbours, and Altruists--except to please Frances, and join -in any lark that’s going. I’ll cut the lot if you like. But if Jim is -Jim Morland and our brother--half or whole--I’m not going to cut _him_. -That would make me a jolly cad, anyhow.” - -Austin, who was certainly innocent of any desire for melodramatic -effect, stopped abruptly, the better to observe his hearers. Frances -had dropped her face between her hands--now, why on earth, Austin asked -himself, had she done that? Mrs. Morland had started upright, angry and -bewildered. What was the matter with her? Did she suppose--did anyone -suppose--a fellow was going to cut his own brother? - -“Austin!” exclaimed Mrs. Morland, “do I understand that you threaten to -disobey me? Do you wish to make me miserable, and bring shame upon us -all? Don’t imagine I shall allow you to do it. You are only a child, -and utterly incapable of judging for yourself on so important a matter. -You will simply do as I order you. By and by, when you come of age, -you can of course throw my authority aside. In the meantime you are -entirely under my control. I forbid you to speak again to this young -blacksmith. That is enough.” - -Mrs. Morland leant back on her cushions almost overcome. Her agitation -was very real; for though Austin had not interrupted her, she had seen -no sign of yielding on his handsome, boyish face--out of which, as she -had spoken, had passed all the carelessness and all the pride. - -“Mater--I don’t know how to tell you properly--but I think you’d speak -differently if you had seen Jim at the gate just now. Frances had -chucked him up, you know, when he came first; and then you had chucked -him up, and he was going away without a word. He looked awfully _down_. -I thought it was hard lines.” - -Austin pushed away, with an abrupt, half-nervous movement, the chair -across which he had been leaning, and thrust his hands into his -pockets. He was a typical little Englishman--a boy of that nation which -despises demonstrations of sentiment; but there was an honest flush on -his cheeks. - -“Look here, Mater,” he continued, “don’t you believe that if our father -were alive he’d take Jim home this very minute? Wouldn’t he have him -here with us, and treat him just the same?” - -Mrs. Morland sat speechless. - -“I think he would,” said Austin soberly; “I truly do. And,” he -continued, a delicate instinct prompting him, “I can’t tell why you -don’t; only, of course, I don’t know about all the things you know of. -I’m just settling about myself. I saw Jim going away, looking _down_, -and I meant to ask you to send someone to fetch him back.” - -“Austin!” - -“Why not?” - -“Because,” said Mrs. Morland indignantly, “I will not hear of such -a thing. Do you suppose I will have all Woodend sneering at my -blacksmith-stepson?” - -The boy kicked a stool vehemently. - -“Well, I won’t ask what isn’t any good. But I’d like to go after him -myself, and say--something. And I think I’ll go.” - -“Austin! you--” - -“I think I’ll just go.” - -The boy was near to the door. He reached it in a few quick, firm steps, -turned, waved his hand smilingly, and went. - -Mrs. Morland sprang up and moved some paces after him, then, with a -helpless sigh, moved towards Frances. Why did not she run to stop the -daring offender? - -But Frances had sunk into a chair, and was sobbing bitterly. Shrugging -her shoulders, Mrs. Morland stepped rapidly to the bell and rang it. - -“John,” she said to the servant who appeared at the door, “I wish you -to try to catch Master Austin. He has just left the room, and has, I -think, gone out of doors.” - -“I saw Master Austin in the hall just now, ma’am.” - -“Make haste, then, and bring him back.” - -John hurried off, much exercised in his mind concerning his mistress’s -distressed manner; and though used to a dignified pace, he fairly ran -down the carriage-drive, threw back the gate, and stood gazing, now -this way, now that. - -“Can hardly have got out of sight in this time,” reflected the puzzled -servant. “Well! if that isn’t the sound of a pony coming down the -drive! Master Austin must have got the beast saddled double-quick. -What’s our young gentleman up to, I’d like to know? Well, I’ve got to -stop him, I suppose.” - -John stood prepared in the middle of the gateway; and as Austin trotted -into close quarters the servant explained his mistress’s orders. - -“Look here, John,” said Austin, his eyes glowing with mischief, “I’ve -an excellent regard for you, and I’d be sincerely sorry to cut short -your valuable career. But if you don’t move a bit to one side I’m -afraid I’ll make short work of you. I’m going through that gate this -instant!” - -As he spoke the boy touched his pony; the plucky little animal sprang -forward, John sprang backward, and with a joyous laugh Austin was off -down the road at full gallop. - - * * * * * - -Jim tramped steadily through Woodend village, noting his whereabouts -only when his heedless progression brought him to a stop in the deep -snow gathered at the sides of the pathways, or sent him floundering -against wall or fence half-hidden in the heavy shadows. His thoughts -kept him company, and shut out intrusive sensations concerning the -white world around him. The lights blinked through the trees from -the houses standing back among their gardens, and the sounds of -mirthful family meetings strayed sometimes to the lad’s ears. It -was Christmas-day--the day on which, so old Bill East had said, -folks’ hearts beat tenderly for all their kin. Lower down the valley -cottage-homes stood humbly in their tiny plots; and the windows, often -uncurtained, revealed the rough comfort within. Homes of another -sort--as those of Lumber’s Yard--lay back from view: among them Dr. -Brenton and Max were paying a round of Christmas calls before settling -down for the evening they never cared to spend apart. - -Jim tramped on. He had reached the entry to Lumber’s Yard, where a knot -of the male residents had gathered for a sociable chat until it should -be time to repair to the parlour of the “Jolly Dog”. One of the men -called out to Jim, whose face was just then visible in the light from -an open cottage-door. The lad heard the gruff greeting,--it came from -Harry the Giant,--and the well-meant invitation which followed it. - -“Why, Jim East, you’re looking rarely glum and peckish! Cheer up, lad. -Come wi’ me, and ’ave summat hot to hearten ye. We’re all agoing into -the “Dog” this minnit. Come along wi’ us.” - -Jim paused irresolutely. Before his mental vision loomed the smithy, -infinitely dreary; no welcome awaiting him save from four-footed -friends. The old woman who kept the place clean and cooked meals for -the Easts had begged a holiday, which had been granted cheerfully. Jim -shivered as he thought of the lonely rooms. - -It was a searching moment for the poor lad. The cruel rebuffs of his -kindred had cut him to the heart; more than that, they had threatened -the ruin of his moral sense. If he were a creature so repellent in -the eyes of those to whom his inner self had turned with instinctive -yearning, surely he must have been mistaken in supposing that his -nature could have qualities in common with theirs. Beauty of form, -colour, or sound had always roused in him a glow of happiness, in -which, during the last fortnight, he had tried--with a kind of grateful -wonder--to recognize some latent refinement such as he supposed to be -the inalienable possession of the gently born and bred. - -He was the son of one whom even his grandfather had admitted to be -a gallant and honourable gentleman. He was the brother of Frances, -with her gracious manner and gentle speech, and of Austin, whose gay -courtesy towards his girl-playmates had secured Jim’s respectful -admiration. But since Frances and Austin would have none of him, -whither should he turn? Could he carry into his lonely, loveless life -that higher purpose which would teach him, without help or sympathy, -to shun the base and impure, and to cling to the thing which is right? -Or must he sink, sink at once and for ever, to the level of such as -these?... Jim dragged his thoughts from the memory of the beautiful -home from which he had just been banished, and forced his eyes to rest -intelligently on the slouching figures blocking the entry to Lumber’s -Yard. - -“Thank you, Harry;”--the lad’s voice had an unusual firmness--“you are -kind, but I must be getting home.” - -“There’s none to greet ye now,” persisted the giant good-naturedly. -“Change your mind, and come wi’ us.” - -“I can’t,” said Jim quietly. “Good-night, and thank you, Harry.” - -More arguments, some rough, some jeering, followed him as he shook -his head and walked on towards the darkening lanes beyond the village -bounds. He chose mechanically the shortest way to Rowdon; and he had -just turned into a by-road overhung by leafless elms, when a galloping -pony caught him up, and was reined in with a jerk by his side. - -“Jim!” - -The lad started violently, and turned in amazement to see Austin -Morland leaning from his saddle with hand outstretched. - -“Jim! I’ve come after you. Shake hands, old fellow.” - -Jim, still staring, obeyed half-consciously. The grip exchanged by the -brothers satisfied Austin, and sent through Jim a strange thrill of joy. - -“I can’t quite make out things yet,” continued the younger boy, a -little shy, but wholly friendly; “my mind’s a bit mixed, I fancy. But -I know one thing--if you’re Jim Morland, we’ve got to stick to each -other. Eh?” - -Jim muttered a choky affirmative. - -“Well, you are Jim Morland. Mater says so; and if she seems fussy at -first, you and I aren’t going to worry. Perhaps she’ll come round. -Anyhow, we’ll stick to each other. Eh?” - -“Ay--I’d give the world for you. I’ll not forget.” - -“If I could, I’d come with you now. But Frances and I can’t leave the -Mater to-night. You see, Jim, don’t you?” - -“Dear lad, I’d not have you come.” - -“But you will have me--ever so often. Whether you like it or not. I’ve -holidays now. See, Jim! I’ll come to-morrow, in the afternoon quite -early. Will you look out for me?” - -“Will I not?” - -“Then good-bye now. Because of Frances and the Mater, you know. Don’t -mope to-night, there’s a good fellow. I’ll come to-morrow, and won’t I -wake you up! Shake hands again! Now I’m off. Good-bye, brother Jim!” - -The swift pony and his rider vanished. Jim Morland stood where they had -left him, and his head sunk in his hands. Who shall despise him if, in -his overwrought condition, he sobbed for very happiness? - -“And to think I nearly missed him! Ah, if I’d gone along of Harry! -Thank God I didn’t.... I’d never go now. I’d never do aught to make him -feel shame of me. I’ll care for him always--ay, and for Missy too!... -He called me ‘brother Jim’, God bless him!” - -Jim went on through the darkness. At the smithy he found that Elizabeth -had returned, made up his fire, and laid his table. Jim wandered about, -too happy to eat. He was no longer alone in the world: he had a small -brother, who was coming to see him to-morrow, and on many morrows. -(Jim hardly paused to wonder how Austin had contrived to overcome his -mother’s objections.) At last the lad dragged a chair to the blazing -fire in the kitchen. His dog crouched at his feet. His great black -tom-cat purred at his elbow. His fiddle invited a song of thanksgiving -to which his heart piped its cheerful chorus. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -FRANCES FALTERS. - - -On the following day Austin paid his promised visit to Rowdon Smithy. -There was no deceit in the boy, and he proclaimed his intention openly -at home. The contest on the subject between himself and his mother -was sharp and brief: Austin gained the day. Mrs. Morland had no idea -how to enforce her commands, for she had at her disposal no means of -coercion. Had it been possible to send her son to school, she would -have taken this step immediately; but her husband’s objections stood in -the way. There were no near relatives to whose charge she might, for a -time, have consigned the little rebel, save the Scotch cousin with whom -Austin had spent the last Easter holidays; and this cousin had gone -to Australia to take up sheep-farming, in hopes of making a fortune, -marrying, and settling down as an antipodean millionaire. Meanwhile, -he was making short work of his patrimony; and Mrs. Morland did not -exactly see her way to employ him as jailer. - -A settlement between the opposed forces was brought about by the wise -diplomacy of Austin. The boy had always found that he had more than -enough to do in taking care of his own conscience, and it did not for a -moment occur to him that he was the appointed keeper of anybody else’s. -Least of all was he inclined to try to dictate to his mother and -Frances on points of duty or conduct; if only they would let him alone, -he was quite willing to be equally tolerant. - -So Austin struck a bargain. His visits to the smithy were to be -permitted, in return for a promise that he would not enlighten Woodend -as to Jim’s revelations. Austin claimed one exception--he must and -would tell Max everything. Dr. Brenton knew already; and the doctor -and Max had no secrets from one another; so that Max, most likely, was -already in possession of the strange news. Anyway, Austin could not -shut out from his confidence his special chum. - -Mrs. Morland made the best of the matter, and secured for the present -her own peace of mind by holding an interview with Max’s eccentric -father. - -“Eccentric” Dr. Brenton certainly was in the eyes of Mrs. Morland, who -had not hitherto entrusted the health of herself or her children to -a medical man not possessed of a carriage and pair. The high esteem -in which the Doctor was held by the gentle-people as well as the -working-folk of Woodend had roused first her curiosity and then her -scorn. - -“You must look more closely, dear Madam,” the old-fashioned Rector -had said to her, “and beneath Brenton’s shabby coat you will see the -spreading of an angel’s wings.” - -“I think not, sir,” Edward Carlyon had differed quietly; “beneath the -shabby coat you’ll see only a shabbier waistcoat. The wings can wait a -bit: we want the man.” - -Mrs. Morland was persuaded that she could secure the Doctor’s silence, -and indeed she did so. But she did not forget, during a whole -uncomfortable day, the “eccentric” man’s look as he bowed agreement to -her request. Dr. Brenton heartily wished Jim well, and he knew that -Mrs. Morland’s departure from Woodend would in no way help the lad; but -while he handed his visitor to her carriage with punctilious courtesy, -he wondered what manner of woman this was who could stoop to inflict so -great an injustice. - -Though in the case of Austin Mrs. Morland gave way to what seemed to be -necessity, she was careful to hold Frances to her promise. And Frances -wavered miserably between the two parties, in this house divided -against itself. Of one thing she was sure--she could not have taken the -half-measures which had satisfied Austin. Had Frances acknowledged her -brother at all, she must have acknowledged him to all the world. The -feeling that in this respect Austin had fallen short of consistency -warped her sympathy with his actions, and to some extent seemed to -justify her own. She, surely, was at least consistent. - -When poor Frances reached this stage in her meditations, she began to -falter. She remembered that she was still the leader of the Altruists, -and that a score of boys and girls paid her real homage as the inspirer -of deeds of self-denial and mercy. When the Carlyons’ school reopened -after the Christmas vacation, Muriel’s pupils began slowly to detect -some changes in their popular comrade. The girls with whom she had -seemed hitherto to have least in common were those who now met eagerly -her tardy advances. To be sought as friend and playfellow by Frances -Morland had been a happy distinction to any of Miss Carlyon’s little -band. Frances had never affected superiority, and it was impossible -to suspect her of vanity; but her clear gray eyes had appeared to -look beneath the surface, and to choose with unerring confidence the -best natures as those most akin to her own. Her gentle sincerity had -appealed to every loyal heart and won its ungrudging recognition. - -Now, in the society of her former favourites, she was dull and ill at -ease; and when her new friends gathered round her, only too ready to -hail her as leader, her instinctive contempt for the offered loyalty -made her capricious and even tyrannical. Muriel Carlyon, who watched -over her pupils with a very real tolerance and sympathy, knew a pang of -disappointment as she saw Frances apparently content to reach a lower -plane in character and conduct. - -At home, the girl’s altered demeanour was not less apparent than at -school. Her influence over Austin must have gone for ever, she told -herself, or he could not have differed from her on a point which was -surely a test of individuality; and having so made up her mind, she -soon brought about the state of things which had been purely imaginary. -It was true that Austin had begun to spend a good deal of his leisure -at the smithy, but he would at any time have given his sister’s affairs -the preference. Now, however, Frances no longer invited his willing -aid. The chemicals and dishes in the dark-room, once so fascinating, -were thick with dust, since Austin found photography “no fun” without -Frances. Prints had duly been taken from the two negatives which had -been the Christmas-day successes, and Florry’s group and Frances’s -landscape had been admired by half Woodend. But Frances could not -endure the sight of either; and when copies were begged, no coaxing or -pleading from Austin would induce his sister to help him to take them. - -The boy laid aside his camera and took up his fiddle. His patient -teacher, a young Exham musician, was delighted with his sudden -progress; and Mrs. Morland smiled complacently while she whispered to -her friends: - -“Yes, Austin has always been musical--so like his dear father. Mr. -Morland had quite a reputation as an amateur violinist. The Amati that -is now Austin’s was once his. It gives me so much pleasure to see my -dear boy take up in earnest the study of his instrument.” - -On reception days Mrs. Morland’s servants were sent to playroom and -garden in search of the juvenile prodigy, but their efforts were vain. -Austin’s performances were strictly private--private to himself and his -brother Jim. For Jim’s sake he listened to his teacher’s instructions, -and strove, in half-hours of self-sacrificial practice, to communicate -those instructions to his own finger-tips. Then, later on, he could -pass them on to Jim. And Jim sat willingly at Austin’s feet in the art -and science of music, and found no evening dull on which he could pore -over the exercise-books his brother had brought him, and repeat again -and again on his own poor instrument some passage whose difficulty -Austin had tried to help him to overcome. - -For many weeks matters held to the same course, and the Easter holidays -came round to complete the year of Mrs. Morland’s residence in Woodend. -Jim had kept his promise, and had not sought to make public the secret -of his birth; and Dr. Brenton and Max and Austin had proved equally -faithful. - -Max’s training, as much as his natural endowment, had given him a -large heart and a most tolerant judgment. He was “all things to all -men” in the best sense. With this true friend, Austin attempted no -concealments, and felt that, without disloyalty, he might venture on a -discussion of the one epoch-marking experience of his young life. He -even tried to win from Max some opinion as to Frances’s share in Jim’s -dismissal and banishment. - -“For it wasn’t a scrap like her,” remarked Austin in a puzzled voice; -“Frances has always been such a stickler about justice and that, you -know. Goodness! she’s down like a shot on a chap who doesn’t play -fair--” - -“She used to be,” amended Max diffidently. The talk was of another -fellow’s sister, and he trusted his tongue would remember its duty. -“The other day, when Lal slanged Guy because Guy won that prize Lal -wanted, I believe every girl except Frances slanged Lal in his turn for -his sneakiness.” - -“My! wasn’t there a jolly row!” said Austin, chuckling at the -recollection. “Ten of ’em all together giving it hot to that skunk Lal!” - -“Frances would have led the assault once on a time.” Max smiled, -remembering not Lal’s rating only, but many occasions when Austin’s -sister had exchanged her usual serenity for hot contempt of conduct -base and ungenerous. - -“Yes, she would,” assented Austin slowly. “And that’s what I can’t make -out--why she’s so different now.” - -“I think it’s because she’s so really fair and straight,” said Max in a -sober voice, which breathed chivalrous determination to believe in the -absent Frances. “And if she knows all the time that she isn’t exactly -fair to Jim, she won’t want to come out strong about ‘justice’ when -other folks trip.” - -Austin nodded his head in agreement. “That’s it! Besides, she’s a girl, -and girls are cranky things; a fellow never knows quite how to take -’em.” - -“Not a fellow’s own sister?” queried Max, with interest. - -“Bless you, no,” replied Austin, shaking his head this time, and -speaking with conviction. “Why, I could make out any other chap’s -sister better than I can make out Frances. But of course,” he added, -sitting very erect, “Frances isn’t a common girl. She’s not so -understandable as the rest of the lot, even.” - -“Do you know,” began Max seriously, “what she told me yesterday? She -said she thought she’d have to give up being an Altruist!” - -“No!” exclaimed Austin. - -“She did! And I said: ‘Oh, Frances! don’t break up our club. It’s the -first of our Woodend things which has gone on and been a success.’ And -she said: ‘Of course it will go on, and far better without me.’ And I -asked her why; and she said something, very low, about the nicest sort -of girls--the girls who were the best Altruists--not caring for her as -they used to do; and that they didn’t come so much to the meetings, and -that she thought they would if she weren’t the leader.” - -“Well,” said Austin, in a crestfallen tone, “fancy Frances chucking up -her beloved Society! She trots about with the Mater, too, ever so much -more than she used to do, and it’s a bad sign. Imagine Frances sitting -in a drawing-room, wearing her best togs, when she might be playing -hockey with us!” - -“Yes--fancy!” echoed Max dismally. - -“She goes out to tea, like any silly, when she might be making bromides -with me in the dark-room.” - -“Well, she gave me two pinafores out of the Altruists’ stores last -week,” said Max, brightening; “she’s been so stand-off lately I was -afraid to beg.” - -“Perhaps things will pick up,” said Austin. “I know what would make -them do it soonest.” - -“What?” - -“Why, for the Mater to find out what a jolly good fellow Jim is, and -make it up with him. Then Frances could follow suit, without any humble -pie. There’s nothing a girl hates so much as having to own she’s in the -wrong.” - - * * * * * - -The kindness he received from his young brother sank deeply into Jim’s -heart, and went far to heal it of the soreness left by Frances’s -repudiation of his plea for a kinsman’s position. Jim, as he truly -put it, “thought the world of the lad”, and was almost pathetically -proud of his handsome face and gallant bearing. During the prevalence -of the bleak March winds Austin caught cold, and had one of his bad -throats; and Jim was miserable all day and all night, except when Max -was with him, assuring him that the boy was “getting on splendidly”, -and promising to deliver to the interesting invalid every kind of -affectionate message, supplemented by such gifts as were within Jim’s -reach. - -Austin got well, and resumed his custom of riding to the smithy at -least two or three days a week. The first time he went after his -convalescence, he received from Jim a welcome which he never could -forget. The elder lad’s wet eyes, shaking hands, and broken voice -were evidence enough of his clinging love for the younger; and Austin -realized, with some sobering emotion, that to his brother he was -infinitely dear. - -A closer relationship grew between them. When the occasion served, they -had long talks, and learned to know one another. Jim’s simple manliness -of thought and deed roused in Austin a respect which kept down his -secret impatience with his brother’s extreme tenderness of heart. -Austin felt dimly that Jim ought to be resentful of the harsh decree -which shut him out from the ease and luxury of the home at Elveley, and -denied him the advantages due to his father’s son. He even tried to -“stir Jim up a bit”, and encourage him to stand out against the powers -that were. - -“I don’t know what’s mine,” remarked Austin one day, after much -pondering over matters which had forced themselves on his boyish -consideration, “but I’m sure you ought to have most of it. Why don’t -you pluck up, Jim, and say so? Then you could study and go to college -as you’d like to; and you’re such a grind, you’d come out an awful -swell, and make the Mater and Frances proud of you!” - -To his surprise, Jim turned from him with a pained expression, and -leaning against the window, murmured: - -“Lad, lad! Do you think I’d take aught from you?” - -“It wouldn’t be from me, really,” persisted Austin. “It would be only -having what’s rightfully yours. Well, there! Don’t mope, Jim! Come on -and give us another lesson in shoeing. I believe I’ll soon be able to -tackle a gee all by myself. Won’t it be larks when I can!” - -Austin presently realized his ambition; and a fine dray-horse was -proudly shod by a young gentleman in spotless flannels, while his -admiring elder brother looked on to prompt and praise. Mrs. Morland -was spared the knowledge of this achievement; but Austin confided it -to Frances without hesitation. Frances’s native love of consistency -moved her to vindicate her chosen position by a hot reproof of Austin -for his unconventional conduct. - -“Well!” said the boy, profoundly bored, “you don’t stick to your own -opinions, Miss Frances. Wasn’t it you who used to talk about any honest -work being noble and beautiful, and all that tommy-rot? Now I don’t say -shoeing horses is noble work, or beautiful, or anything. I just say -it’s first-rate fun!” - -And Austin turned on his heel and went off. - -“There!” thought Frances bitterly, “he has gone away; he never stays -with me now. He isn’t a bit my boy any longer. He’s Jim’s. Oh, how I -wish we never had come to Woodend! But Jim says his grandfather always -managed to know where we lived. How horrid it seems! I wish I’d been -different to Jim. He looked so sorry. I think--I think I hurt him. I -wish I were brave, and didn’t feel ashamed for people to know I had a -blacksmith for a brother! I hate to think of anyone pitying us about -Jim, and sneering at his funny clothes and way of speaking! I know I’m -a ‘snob’, and that Miss Cliveden would scorn me now; but I can’t help -it.” - -Doubt of herself made Frances doubtful of others, and she began to -show signs of developing that unlucky sort of suspicion which searches -motives with intent to prove itself in the right. Her common-sense told -her that the best of her girl-friends could not despise her for conduct -of which they knew nothing; yet she, who had been above all things -frank and sincere, now continually imagined slights and offences on the -part of her favourite comrades. But Frances had been too well liked to -be readily regarded as an outsider by any of Muriel Carlyon’s brightest -and busiest lassies. - -It was not until, in a mood of hopeless discontent, she carried out -her purpose of deserting the flourishing Society she had founded with -so much energy and success, that a deputation of alarmed and amazed -damsels pursued Miss Carlyon into her private sitting-room, and -demanded that she should, then and there, tell them what could be the -matter with Frances. - -“She called a meeting in the schoolroom after hours!” cried Florry -Fane breathlessly; “it was to let us know that she wasn’t going to be -our leader any more! She said we should do better without her, and she -proposed that I should be the Altruist secretary--as though any one -could take Frances’s place!” - -“It is true,” said the First Violin--a pensive maid known to her -elders as Dorothy Gray,--“that we have not attended the meetings so -regularly as we used to; but that was all because Frances has seemed so -different.” - -“In what way ‘different’?” queried Miss Carlyon quietly. - -“Oh! in every way. She used to talk such a lot about helping people, -and to be full of plans for all sorts of ways to make our Society some -real good to the Woodend poor folks. We were going to have a bazaar in -the summer, and build a club-room which would be open in the evenings -and entice the men from that dreadful inn at Lumber’s Yard. It was to -be a secret until we had held another meeting.” - -“I thought you were bringing me some news, Dorothy.” - -“Of course we were going to tell you all about it before we decided -anything.” - -“Well, dear. And must the project fall through?” - -“Why, I suppose so. We could not get on without Frances. She is so -good at arranging and managing. Besides, it would seem so strange and -unfriendly to throw ourselves into anything heartily with Frances out -in the cold.” - -“But if Frances has chosen that uncomfortable position?” - -“Can’t we get her away from it? Do help us, Miss Carlyon!” - -There was a minute’s silence, while Muriel watched observantly the -half-dozen young faces turned eagerly to hers. - -“My dears,” she said soberly, “I am with you in your surprise at the -change in Frances, and in your natural longing to understand it and to -win your friend back to her old ways. Let us put our heads together, -and see what we can do. First, let us ask Florry, who has been so much -with Frances, whether she can suggest any reason for the lassie’s -whims.” - -“I don’t think I can,” said Florry slowly; “you see, she isn’t the kind -of girl to back out of things in order to be flattered and fussed over, -and begged to go on with them. Frances isn’t a bit vain. She’s too much -in earnest.” - -The other girls assented in chorus. - -“Can her mother have raised objections to her doing so much for your -Society? Mrs. Morland is taking Frances about with her more than -she used to do, and she may wish her daughter to use her leisure -differently.” - -Florry shook her head. “No--it can’t be that. Frances told me her -mother had promised to help with our bazaar, and to persuade her -friends to work for it. We should hardly have gone on thinking about -it else,” added Florry bluntly, “because the Woodend people all follow -Mrs. Morland like sheep.” - -“We needn’t criticise our elders on that point,” said plump Betty -Turner, “for we all follow Frances like sheep. Why not? Someone must -lead.” - -“And Mrs. Morland’s leadership has been used most kindly on behalf of -the Altruists,” said Miss Carlyon gently. “No doubt it would serve -the bazaar to good purpose, and I still hope your grand plan may be -triumphantly worked out. And now, dear girls, as you cannot clear up -the mystery of Frances’s behaviour, may I, without discouraging you, -own that you mustn’t look to me for enlightenment? If there is anything -behind, I am not in Frances’s confidence; I can judge only from what -appears on the surface. Isn’t it possible that the very honours you -have thrust upon her--the popularity, the responsibility--may have -become something of a strain? Perhaps she may feel that, for a time -at least, she would rather remain in the background, while those who -have learned to imitate her courage and energy may take their turn in -coming to the front. In any case, I can’t help believing that your best -course will be to persist in your gallant undertakings, and to let our -Frances see that her efforts have not been thrown away. She has borne -the burden and the heat of the day, and she may flag for awhile only to -spring forward more gladly and willingly after a well-earned rest.” - -“But our Society!--our Club, without Frances!” - -“Must go on and prosper, if only to maintain its founder’s credit. If -your Club-room at Elveley is no longer available, you shall hold your -meetings here. Persevere, lassies, persevere! And before long--I feel -sure of it--Frances the Altruist shall be again in your midst.” - -The news that her daughter had abandoned her pet hobby was quite a -shock to Mrs. Morland, who had so long been accustomed to see her -children to the fore in every juvenile scheme, that she could not -recognize the value of a light hidden under a bushel. She reproached -Frances long and scornfully for her voluntary abdication of her small -queenship; but the girl listened in silence, and with an expression -of weariness and indifference which increased her mother’s vexation. -Mrs. Morland felt the disappointment and chagrin Austin and Frances -were causing her all the more because such sensations were so new and -strange. She had always congratulated herself on the possession of a -pair of youngsters who were made for future social success. And here -was Austin, of his own choice, spending half his play-hours at a vulgar -smithy. And here was Frances handing over her girlish honours to -Florry Fane. - -Mrs. Morland’s fretting and the children’s divided interests made of -Elveley a different home. The three members of the little family were -drifting apart slowly and steadily. During Austin’s short illness, -mother and daughter drew nearer in the press of a common anxiety; but -as soon as the boy was about again, and galloping his pony to and from -Rowdon Smithy, he seemed to become once more a being outside Frances’s -world. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -TROUBLE AT ELVELEY. - - -It was August, and the evenings were sultry and oppressive after -burning summer days. At Rowdon Smithy there was always some coolness, -borrowed from the adjacent moorland, and helped by a situation exposed -on northern and eastern sides. So, when dusk drew on, and Jim’s work -might, as a rule, be considered over, the young smith used to sit in -his trellised porch, with book in hand or violin on shoulder, and enjoy -such breezes as were to be had. The place pleased him for several -reasons. It had been a favourite resting-spot of his grandfather’s, it -caught the latest beams of the sun setting across the Common, and it -commanded a fair stretch of the road by which Austin might be expected -to come. - -Austin came now oftener than of old. Jim sometimes wondered why: he -had, as it seemed to him, so little entertainment to offer to his -brother. - -On a particular evening of this sunny August, Jim sat, as usual, in -the cottage-porch. His hands were busy with his fiddle, his eyes -were bent over a sheet of music which Austin had lent to him. Jim -had changed much during the last few months. His face and figure had -matured and grown manlier; he was dressed with more care, and had the -fresh, “clean” look peculiar to upper-class Englishmen. There was but -slight trace of the peasant about him, and his homely language sounded -pleasantly enough in his soft, clear voice--which even to Austin’s ears -was quaintly reminiscent of Frances’s sweet tones. His manners and -bearing were seldom at fault; for old William East had known something -of the ways of gentle-people, and, acknowledging within himself a duty -owed to the lad’s deceived father, had taken pains to shield Jim from -bad example and to encourage his natural refinement. The sorrow of his -bereavement, and the keen pain of his rejection at the hands of his -sister and stepmother, had indeed saddened his young face; but they had -also deepened and strengthened his character, in teaching him to stand -alone. - -The sound of a trotting pony advancing along the hard, white country -road broke in on Jim’s peaceful studies and caught his attention. -Hoping that the nearing rider might be Austin, Jim sprang to his feet, -laid aside his fiddle, and swung briskly down the garden-path to the -gate. As he went, he saw that his young brother was putting his pony -to the gallop, with evident impatience to reach his journey’s end. Jim -threw wide the gate, and stepped out on to the roadway in time to wave -a welcome to his visitor. Then he saw that Austin’s sunburnt cheeks had -lost their ruddy colour, and that his eyes looked scared and strange as -from a nervous shock. - -“Why, Austin! What’s up, lad?” asked the elder brother anxiously. -“There’s surely something wrong.” - -“Everything’s wrong, Jim! Everything’s dreadful! You’d never guess -what’s happened at home! Don’t try: I’d rather tell straight out. -Perhaps I shall feel better when you know, too!” - -“It’s no harm to Madam or Missy?” - -“Harm to all of us, I think, Jim. At least, Mother says we’re beggars! -Isn’t that harm enough? Jim, don’t stand and stare like that!” - -Jim pulled himself together. “I was frighted, lad,--feared to think of -what you might mean. ‘Beggars!’ Surely not ‘beggars’!” - -Austin laughed roughly. Child as he was, the trouble which had -overtaken him, and the way in which it had been met, had affected him -strongly. - -“Well, Mater says so: and I suppose she knows. Jim, I’ll ride round to -the shed and fasten up Rough first of all.” - -“I’ll come with you,” said the other briefly; and they made the short -journey in silence. When the pony had been safely tethered, Austin -caught Jim by the arm and dragged him off. - -“Not indoors!” said the boy impatiently. “I feel choked already. Let’s -go to the orchard. Oh, how jolly quiet and cool it is here! At home--.” - -Austin paused, and held his tongue perseveringly until the brothers -had gained a favourite retreat in the pleasantest nook among the old -apple-trees. Jim, even then, forbore to question, guessing that his -young brother’s nerves were strung to a pitch which would not bear -further tension. With considerate kindness the elder lad forced back, -out of sight, his own fears and forebodings. - -Austin threw himself on the ground with a long-drawn breath of relief. -The calm of his surroundings and the friendly presence of his brother -brought a happy sense of protection to the overwrought lad. - -“Now I’ll tell everything,” he said, drawing near to Jim, who -immediately put an arm about him. “Only I can’t explain very well, -because I don’t half understand myself. It was this morning it -happened. A man came from London to see Mamma; so he was taken to the -library, and she went there to speak to him. The library has a French -window opening on to the lawn, and Frances and I were sitting together -in the garden, quite near the library window. We could hear Mamma and -the man talking, but not well enough to know what they were saying, so -we did not think we need move away. Presently we did hear something: -we heard Mamma say plainly, in a queer, high voice, ‘Then I and my -children are paupers!’ Frances jumped up, and so did I; and we both ran -to the library window. It wasn’t what Mamma had said; it was the way -she spoke. Jim, it would have scared you. Just as we got to the house -we heard a sort of cry. Well, we pushed open the window in a jiffey; -and there was Mamma, lying all of a heap in her chair, and the strange -man standing beside her, looking frightened out of his wits. And he -said to us: ‘I’ve brought your mother bad news, but I couldn’t help it; -I’ve nothing to do with the matter. The governor sent me down from town -to tell her, because he thought it would come easier that way than in a -letter or a telegram.’ Of course we didn’t know what he meant, and we -didn’t much mind, we were so awfully scared about Mater.” - -“Madam had fainted?” questioned Jim in a low voice. - -“Yes. We called her maid, and brought her round; while the man vanished -into the garden, saying he’d stay there a while in case he was wanted -again. I’d have told him to cut back to his precious ‘governor’, only -Frances wouldn’t let me. And as soon as Mamma could speak she asked -for the London man, and in he came. I must say he looked sorry; and he -didn’t seem to like it when Mamma said she wished him to tell Frances -and me exactly what he had told her. Then--oh, Jim! I can’t remember -half his long speech. It was all about deeds, and securities, and -fraudulent trustees, and creditors. There was a man who had charge of -all our money--Mamma’s and Frances’s and mine,--and was to manage for -us till I was twenty-one. Papa had made him ‘trustee’. He had always -given Mamma plenty of money for everything she needed, and she had -never thought anything was wrong. But a while ago he wanted to make -more money for himself; and first he used only what was his own, and -lost it; then he began to use ours, and lost that. When nearly all ours -was lost, and he knew he must soon be found out, he managed to get hold -of what was left of Papa’s money, and then he ran away. So he has gone; -and we shall never find him, or get back what he stole.” - -“Oh!” exclaimed Jim breathlessly, “what a sore, sore trial for Madam! -Does she bear up, dear lad?” - -“No,” replied Austin gloomily; “and that’s the worst of it all. Mamma -seems so very--queer. She sits and moans and groans, and tells Frances -and me over and over again that we’re just beggars, and must go to -the workhouse. Jim!” added Austin, with a break in his voice, and a -childlike dread which made him shiver nervously, “Jim! must we really -do that?” - -“No, dear lad, no. Why, Madam has her beautiful house anyway. She told -me she’d bought it.” - -“Yes; but it isn’t all paid for,” said Austin, shaking his head. “The -London man said Mamma’s trustee hadn’t paid for lots of things. Elveley -is to be sold and all that’s in it; and even then Mamma won’t be able -to pay everybody.” - -“I can’t hardly take it in,” muttered Jim. “Are you sure it’s as bad as -you say?” - -“I’m sure enough,” said Austin bitterly, “seeing Mamma has said it all -over and over again. Frances and I have stayed with her,” continued the -lad, throwing up his arms wearily; “but this evening I thought I must -come here for a bit, or I’d--I’d howl! Jim, you can’t guess what it’s -like, at home. Mamma can’t do anything but groan.” - -“But Madam has many friends?” suggested Jim hopefully. - -“What’s the good of friends? They can’t find our trustee--or make our -money come back again. And we’ve no relations except Cousin Walter, and -he’s in Australia, sheep-farming. Don’t I wish I could go to Australia, -and have heaps of land, and millions of sheep!” Austin closed his -eyes, the better to call up a vision of plenty. “But Cousin Walter’s a -failure out there: he can’t help us.” - -“There’s surely someone,” said Jim, unable to think of the stately, -handsome owner of Elveley as friendless, penniless, and homeless. -The lad might have been pardoned a gleam of satisfaction at the ruin -which had overtaken the woman who had treated him with contemptuous -indifference, and shown no intention of acknowledging his just claim to -a share of his father’s property. But Jim was guiltless of resentment, -and the inherent chivalry of his nature rose up in indignant pity at -the blow dealt to the widow and orphans. - -Jim thought much and deeply, but he wisely said little in the meantime, -preferring deeds to words. Austin succeeded in convincing him that in -Mrs. Morland’s sight, at least, her case was desperate; and Jim the -simple-minded could only marvel how so many years of prosperity and -social success could have been unfruitful of a single friend attached -and loyal enough to come forward with counsel and help. - -“There must be someone,” he repeated, with conviction. “Austin, lad, -this is too soon to talk so hopeless-like. Mayhap your mother is fair -dazed with the shock, and too upset to think clear. Keep up heart, dear -lad, and cheer Madam and Missy too. Tell them as all must come right.” - -“Oh, Jim!” broke out Austin, “I wish you would come to Elveley and make -some sense of things! It’s so awfully bothering to go on not knowing -what will really happen, and with Mater not able to tell us. Jim, do -come home with me now!” - -“Dear lad, I’d come with you gladly, but I haven’t the right--yet. I -promised your mother I wouldn’t tell who I was; and what would folks -think to see Jim East the blacksmith meddling with Madam’s affairs? No, -it would just worry her more if I should venture--it would make things -harder for her to see me there. I mayn’t do it, lad. It’s terrible -vexing to know I mayn’t.” - -Jim’s reluctance was so evidently reasonable and unselfish that Austin -forbore to press his entreaty. Instead, he allowed himself to be -comforted and encouraged by all the arguments for hope and cheerfulness -which Jim could draw from his imagination. At the smithy, Austin always -felt happy and at peace. The difficulty was to tear himself away and go -back to the home whence peace and happiness had fled. - - * * * * * - -Mrs. Morland, as has been said, was not personally popular in the -village where she had made her home. Woodend was, in a sense, -old-fashioned, and it had acquiesced quietly in her assumption of -leadership in all that concerned its small social matters, but it had -not learned to like her. Though its upper-class community was no less -charitable than others similarly placed, there were not a few old -residents who heard the story of the Morland downfall, as it affected -the mistress of Elveley, with hardly more than a conventional murmur -of regret. But when her children were under discussion the case was -different. Everyone liked the bright girl and boy, everyone grieved at -the tragic calamity which must so greatly change their lives. - -Still, there were some neighbours able and willing to show Mrs. Morland -kindness and sympathy. These sought her out at the earliest moment that -good taste allowed, and frankly offered to be of service; but the poor -woman, completely overwhelmed by the extent of the disaster, rejected -their overtures with angry scorn. Naturally, her well-meaning friends -retired precipitately, determining that she should be left to take her -own course. - -What that course should be Mrs. Morland did not even attempt to decide. -The creditors who had insisted on the sale of Elveley wished to show -the innocent debtor some consideration, and informed her that she might -continue to occupy the house for three weeks. The Rector, who was not -to be driven away by any rebuffs, listened patiently to the outpourings -of bitter invective against her fraudulent trustee, which seemed the -only relief Mrs. Morland could discover. The kindly, gentle old man -was too infirm to fight an injured woman’s battles; but Edward Carlyon -persuaded Mrs. Morland to put her affairs in the hands of a competent -solicitor, who might make the best terms possible with her creditors. - -The three weeks of grace had almost slipped by, and still no provision -had been made for the future of the little family. Frances and Austin -seldom left their mother, though in her presence they were acutely -miserable. They were young and vigorous, and, after they had recovered -from the shock of misfortune, they were eager to be up and doing. Both -girl and boy implored their mother to speak--to tell them what her -plans might be, so that they might help forward any arrangements she -had made. But Mrs. Morland declared herself incapable of action, and -was not moved even by the pale and anxious faces of the harassed pair -who were ready to take the field in her behalf. - -It was an awakening period for the two young Morlands. Hitherto they -had felt a childlike security in the capacity of a mother’s protecting -love and care. The world’s struggles and trials had seemed far removed -from the sheltered comfort of their home. Now, the arm that had -encircled and shielded them had been suddenly removed, and the onset of -trouble found them defenseless. - -“If only we knew what was going to become of us,” sighed Frances in -Miss Carlyon’s ear. “It is so dreadful to feel day after day passing -and not to have the least idea what Mamma will do. Sometimes Austin -and I think she really does not understand that we must leave Elveley -immediately; but if we try to talk about it she will not listen.” - -“Dear child, your mother has received a very heavy blow. Who can wonder -if it has prostrated her?” - -Miss Carlyon’s tone was extremely pitiful, though she could hardly -think without impatience of the crushed, broken woman who, even for -the sake of her children, would not rouse herself out of her state of -despondency. The girl and boy whose future had promised to be so bright -were surely the chief sufferers; but Mrs. Morland’s pride saw as yet -only her personal defeat--her loss of position, her coming poverty. - -“I know how very hard it is for Mamma,” said Frances; “Austin and I -would scarcely mind at all if only Mamma need not lose all her things. -I do want to help her, but she says I am just a girl, and of no use. -And Austin is not grown-up yet. Oh, Miss Carlyon, is there no work I -can do? I think I could take care of children, and I would do anything.” - -“Dear Frances, you are so young to leave home.” - -“Should I have to leave home? I don’t think I could bear to go quite -away among strangers. What would Austin do?” - -“What, indeed? And how could your mother part from her only daughter? -Your place is at home, darling.” - -“I don’t know,” said Frances in a shaky voice. “I don’t seem much good -to Mamma; and perhaps, after all, Austin would not mind now. He does -not want me as he used to.” - -“How is that?” asked Miss Carlyon gently, while she stroked the girl’s -bent head. - -“It is because I am different,” said Frances dejectedly. “I have been -mean and horrid, and Austin knows.” - -Muriel Carlyon remained silent, half-expecting that her young favourite -would open her heart, and give her confidence to her friend. But -Frances’s tongue was tied by her promise to her mother; though, in this -time of trial, when sight seemed clearer and duty plainer, she did long -to cast away the burden of deceit and tell the truth before all the -world. - -“Do you think anyone would take me as a nursery governess, Miss -Carlyon?” asked the girl presently. - -“No, dear, I do not. People do not engage little maids of fourteen for -posts of responsibility.” - -“I am nearly fifteen. Of course I know that is not old, but I could put -up my hair.” - -Muriel replied with a loving kiss. - -“I might try a grey wig,” suggested Frances, throwing her arms round -her friend; “and spectacles, you know,--like a girl in a story-book.” - -“Even then, I am afraid, you would be nothing but a dear young lass, by -no means formidable enough to pose as a governess.” - -“You are formidable,” said Frances, hugging Miss Carlyon close. “And -your hair is not grey, but pretty brown curls; and you look, oh! ever -so young and jolly! It cheers me up just to see you.” - -“Have that cheer as often as you will, darling; and believe it doesn’t -make troubles lighter to meet them with a gloomy face.” - -“Ah! that’s what Florry says.” - -“Florry is a first-rate philosopher--an unconscious preacher, too, of -the gospel of plain living and high thinking.” - -“I’ll tell you how she argues--you know she loves to argue. This is -exactly what she said:--‘If you don’t have such a big house, you -needn’t mind, for you can’t be in more than one room at a time. And -if you don’t have grand dinners, you needn’t mind, for boys and girls -come in only for dessert, and grown-ups just have indigestion. And if -you’ve only one best frock and one worst one, you needn’t mind, for it -will save the bother of thinking what you’ll put on.’ It sounds quite -sensible, really. I don’t think I do mind being poor, for myself. Just -for Mamma and Austin.” - -“Perhaps Mamma and Austin may learn to be equally philosophical. At -all events, dear, you can go on trying to show them the bright side of -things.” - -“If there were a bright side!” said Frances. “I must try to see it -myself first.” - -“Suppose I could help you there?” said Muriel, smiling rather oddly. - -“Could you?” - -“Well--think. Since the sad day of your trial, dear, which of your -friends have been most eager to seek you out--which have been careful -to hold aloof?” - -Muriel watched the changing expression of the girl’s intelligent face. - -“Ah!” said Frances at last, in a low, happy voice, “I know what you -mean. Thank you, Miss Carlyon. Of course you knew, you could not help -seeing, how the girls I used to like the best have seemed, ever since -Christmas, to be far jollier without me.” - -“Only because you made them believe that you were jollier without them.” - -“Did I?” said Frances, with real surprise. “I thought it was because I -was dull and stupid. So I tried to make friends with the others, but it -never seemed the same. And now all my old chums have come back to me, -and the new ones have stayed away. Oh, yes, Miss Carlyon, there _is_ a -bright side. Only, I didn’t know where to look for it.” - - * * * * * - -It was the evening of the third day before the one on which Elveley, -and the major portion of its contents, were to be put up to auction. -Mrs. Morland sat alone in her private sitting-room; a small and -beautifully-furnished apartment where, during the last weeks, she -had hidden herself from all eyes which she considered malicious -or inquisitive. She knew she was not a popular woman; but she had -preferred to mere popularity the more exclusive gratification which -could be obtained by a determined and successful insistence on -superiority. So long as she could be a leader, Mrs. Morland cared -not whether her train followed her willingly or not. Thus, among her -acquaintances, she had not tried to make a single friend. - -The disaster which would have been heavy to most women was appalling -to her. So far, she had refused to face facts, and had met her -children’s timid protests either with indifference or anger. But that -very afternoon, the boy and girl--coming hand in hand, for mutual -encouragement--had made a fresh attempt to persuade her to listen to -them; and though she had fairly driven them away by her harsh and -bitter replies, she had not been able to forget the wretchedness in -their young faces. It was true, of course, what they had said: in three -days they would have no roof to cover their heads. - -Austin, on leaving his mother, rushed to the stable, had his pony -saddled, and galloped off to Rowdon. He had promised that his brother -should know that day how matters stood; and it seemed to Austin that -matters were at desperation-point. - -Mrs. Morland remained alone. Round her were the evidences of her lost -prosperity, and her eyes roved from one to another of her possessions, -while her brain worked busily, and her long, slender fingers played -with the pretty toys on a delicately-carved and inlaid table by her -side. The children’s appeal had at last roused her, and consternation -was taking the place of lethargy. Frances had implored her to speak: -but after all, what could she say? What refuge was open to her, that -pride could let her accept? More than one of her neighbours--the Rector -first of them--had courteously offered her and her children a temporary -home; but the idea of lingering on in Woodend, an object of careless -pity to those whom she had compelled to a certain admiration, was -hateful, even insupportable, to the suffering woman. - -Her thoughts were still dwelling on what seemed to her an indignity -impossible of endurance, when a servant brought a visitor to her door, -and left him, at his own request, to enter unannounced. - -“Who’s that?” demanded Mrs. Morland sharply, as the figure of young -Jim Morland began to take shape in the distant shadows of the room. - -Jim stepped forward, and with a word of greeting quietly proclaimed -himself. He had been warned by Austin of the mood in which he was -likely to find his stepmother; and the latent chivalry of his nature -was now prepared to resist all inclinations towards impatience or -resentment. In Jim’s simple creed a woman’s misfortune rendered her -sacred. - -“Please forgive me for venturing, Madam,” began the lad respectfully; -“I’m feared you’ll not be over-pleased as I should come just now. I’m -here because Austin told me of your trouble, and I wanted to see what I -could do.” - -“What you could do!” exclaimed Mrs. Morland, remembering bitterly -enough that her stepson was of age now; that, had she treated him -justly, and made over to him the share of his father’s property which -was morally his right when he reached his majority, he would have been -able, and probably willing, to help her to good purpose. “What can you -do, pray? Take my son, and teach him the trade of a blacksmith?” - -“He has pluck enough,” replied Jim gently. “And he would think it no -shame to do aught which would help you or his sister. But of course -that’s for me to do. I am the eldest: and--though I feel sore-like to -vex you, Madam,--I’ve come now to claim my rights.” - -“Your rights?” queried Mrs. Morland, thinking of her husband’s lost -thousands. - -“Yes. I’ve waited--knowing as you and Missy thought shame of me--to -see if you had better plans. But now I’ve come, because my brother and -sister are in need of someone to care for them.” Jim moved nearer, and -laid his strong brown hand on the dainty inlaid table: Mrs. Morland -almost shivered to see it there. “I claim the right to care for them. -Madam, this time you can’t say me nay--it _is_ my right.” - -“My good boy,” said Mrs. Morland petulantly, “don’t try to be bombastic -if you want me to hear you out. Please say what you have come to say, -as quickly as you can.” - -“I’d best be quick,” said Jim, unmoved; “for I doubt not you are tired -and worried: and if I could”--the lad’s eyes rested softly on his -stepmother’s hard-drawn features--“I’d like to bring you some ease. You -know as I’ve a little house, Madam. ’Tis a small place, but tidy-like; -and there’s a big orchard behind. And since my brother and sister must -soon leave their home, I’d have them come to mine and be king and queen -of it. I’d be proud to see them there.” - -“No doubt,” said Mrs. Morland grimly; “but the joys of cottage life are -not quite in their line.” - -“Madam,” said Jim earnestly, “you must listen to me now. The others -are too young to do aught, and it’s not for them to feel the world’s -roughness. You do not like as folks should know their brother’s just -a blacksmith and the home he has to offer them just a poor cottage. I -do not say as that’s not reason in a way, and no fault of yours. But -if, when this place is sold, you will not let me take them to Rowdon, -where are they to go?” - -Mrs. Morland sat still awhile, without replying, while her fingers -tapped nervously the polished surface of the little table. Her -demeanour had changed somewhat during Jim’s brief speech, for she had -been obliged to recognize that his words were the expression of his -heart’s true feeling, and that she had now no hard or revengeful nature -to deal with. However unworthy might be her estimate of the causes -which prompted Jim’s present attitude, she began to see in the lad -possibilities that would render more tolerable the necessity for owning -him. - -“Where are they to go?” asked Jim again, with increased gentleness. - -“They will go with me,” said Mrs. Morland bitterly, “to the workhouse, -I suppose!” - -“They will go with you, of course,” said Jim, leaning forward, and -speaking in a tone of the most persuasive softness his peasant tongue -could command. “What would they do without you? But I’ve a home for you -all at Rowdon--and--indeed, I’ll make it as trim as I can.” - -He glanced at the beautiful and costly things about him, and sighed -inwardly. His common-sense taught him that a woman who had been bred -amid such surroundings could hardly be contented at Rowdon Smithy. -When Jim Morland pressed his invitation on his stepmother, he guessed -that he was passing sentence on all his future peace of mind. With his -brother and sister alone, he might have hoped, some day, to be happy: -they were very young, and youth readily accepts its circumstances. -Austin, at least, would quickly have been at home. But Frances!--Jim -wondered if he could bear the daily sight of his sister’s shrinking -repugnance; and how might he ever hope to overcome it while Frances -remained under the influence of this suspicious, ungracious nature? - -“I’ll do my best,” continued the lad gravely; “and mayhap Rowdon will -serve for a home till I can earn more and provide a better. Come, then, -Madam, if it please you; and the children will make it home-like.” - -The impulse to believe the best of Jim, to give him the credit of a -magnanimous proposal, was stronger with Mrs. Morland at that moment -than she could have imagined. Some words of acknowledgment were rising -to her lips when her eyes lighted on her stepson’s rough hand, so near -her own delicate fingers, and in a rapid glance she noted his rustic -dress, while her pride rose passionately at the thought of recognizing -him as a kinsman. Her better instincts were choked at once by a -sensation of overwhelming dislike and scorn. Mrs. Morland knew that she -was ungenerous; but she easily persuaded herself that, without loss of -self-respect, she could deal to Jim a certain measure of fairness in -compensation for lack of generosity. He would be satisfied, no doubt, -if, in return for the refuge he offered, she gave him the name but not -the place of a son. - -“If I go to Rowdon,” she said deliberately, “you will, of course, -expect me to acknowledge your identity as my husband’s child?” - -Jim flushed deeply: his stepmother’s words contained a hint of motive -on his part which he had a right to resent. - -“I make no bargains, Madam!” said the young workman sternly. “Come to -Rowdon, and call me what you please.” - -“You have claimed your ‘rights’ as a brother,” said Mrs. Morland, -smiling slightly; “and besides, my friends are, as you know, not so -dull as to believe I should go by choice to live at Rowdon Smithy, or -that you offered me a home there out of pure benevolence. Perhaps, -James,” she continued more seriously, “we shall understand each other -better if we do strike a bargain. We can put the matter on a business -footing between ourselves, and leave the rest of the world to supply -the sentiment. Well, then, I accept your offer of a temporary home: in -return, I agree to place in the Rector’s hands a written acknowledgment -of your right to bear your father’s name.” - -“Madam,” said Jim coldly, his patience strained to the uttermost, “you -know right well as I’ve the means of proving who I am, if so be as I -wanted to do it, without a word from you. ’Twas to save you and Missy -what you held to be shame that I’ve kept so long a name as was never -really my own. There’ll be no bargaining on my side. Call me East or -Morland as it pleases you; I’ll count your wish as it might be my -father’s, and be your son or not as you choose. I’ll not presume on -your choice either way,” added Jim, borrowing for once a little of -his companion’s bitterness; “I’m not likely to forget as you’d never -give me a mother’s love.... I’d not expect it, neither,” he went -on, recovering his softer speech, “no more than I look for Missy to -remember as it’s not my fault I’m just a rough fellow. The little lad -... the little lad”--Jim’s brave voice trembled--“he’s different: he -sees through things somehow.... Madam,” finished Jim, looking straight -at his stepmother, “I think the world of the little lad!” - -“Boys are so ready to make friends,” said Mrs. Morland, moved in spite -of her prejudices, and striving to shake off an uncomfortable sense of -defeat. “Well, James, I am not so insensible of your good intentions -as you fancy. I never was quick to give affection, so you need not -take it amiss if I am not demonstrative. I dare say we shall manage to -put up with one another. Whether as part of a bargain or not, I shall -certainly desire that you be known for the future by your proper name. -And perhaps,” added the speaker, as the better side of her nature -asserted itself, “you may not despise a different undertaking on my -part. It is unlikely that you and I shall draw together--there is no -tie of blood to help us, and I frankly confess to thinking the time -too late. But I give you my promise to do nothing to hinder you from -winning the children’s liking, if it has value in your eyes.” - -Jim silently bent his head. - -“They are very miserable,” continued Mrs. Morland, “and you are about -to give them some sort of comfort. Your chance with them ought to be a -good one.” - -“I’d rather,” said Jim steadily, “as they did not think of things that -way. They’re just children, and shouldn’t know what trouble means, -when there’s grown folk to save them. Then, will you please tell them -as we’ve arranged?” - -“Why not do that yourself?” Mrs. Morland rose, and her spirits -answering to a relief of mind she could not all at once realize, she -moved with her old grace and dignity towards the door. “Come with me, -James. You shall be introduced as the future head of the house to your -brother and sister. I shall leave you to give the necessary orders -about our movements. _La reine est morte_--that is, she’s going to -retire into private life!” - -Mrs. Morland led the way to the children’s sitting-room; but only -Austin was there. He had lingered, nervously anxious about the result -of Jim’s visit to Elveley; but Frances had already gone for comfort -and counsel to her friend Miss Carlyon. To Austin his mother formally -announced her decision as to the future. - -“Your brother means to be good to you,” she said, with an attempt at -cheerfulness; “you must try to thank him better than I have done.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE. - - -It fell to the lot of Austin to tell his sister of Jim’s plan for -their settlement at Rowdon Smithy. Jim had resolutely declined to -wait at Elveley long enough to be the bearer of his own news. He was -beset with misgivings as to the results of the course to which he had -persuaded his stepmother to agree; and yet he knew that by no other -means could he possibly provide, even in the humblest way, for his -kinsfolk. - -He had been reared by a masterful, self-contained man, who had exacted -unmurmuring obedience, and had seldom encouraged individual thought and -action. Thus Jim Morland, at twenty-one, was hardly more than a boy -in essential matters; and the responsibility of “head of the house”, -suddenly thrust on him, was enough to press heavily on his immature -character. He learned, as time passed, to draw on the fundamental -independence of his nature; but at first he found himself capable only -of doing what lay to his hand--of planning as best he might for the -present comfort of his little family, while he trusted that his path -might some day grow less dim. - -His interview with Mrs. Morland had been really a trial to the -sensitive, country-bred lad; and he could not find courage to witness -his sister’s reception of the tidings he supposed would come to her as -a fresh calamity. Jim suffered here for his pardonable moral cowardice; -for even Austin, who knew how Frances had drooped under the burden of -suspense and uncertainty, was surprised at the relief she showed when -he had explained what lay before her. Frances rose to the occasion like -the plucky lass she always had tried to be. That very evening she began -to work at the necessary packing; and her mother, hearing the girl’s -cheerful voice when she came for instructions, felt an unreasonable -impatience because what she would herself so greatly miss seemed to -have small value in her children’s eyes. - -Frances was not in the least insensible to the worth of what she was -leaving behind, but out of the depths of her late despondency it was -good to rise to a level whence she might look bravely and gratefully -on the possibilities of the future. In the first place, she knew that -the question of acknowledging her brother was at last settled beyond -dispute, and that the injustice done to him was to be removed, however -tardily. She had done nothing to bring this about, and she was quick to -see that atonement on her own part must be of another sort--if, indeed, -there were any compensation Jim would care to accept. She could at -least take heed that she did not now mistake her brother’s motives, or -under-estimate the sacrifice he was ready to make. He had shown himself -capable of chivalrous forgiveness, and the higher part of her nature -was eager to respond. - -Frances’s admiration and her longing to make amends were freely -confessed to Muriel Carlyon, who sympathized with both, and had good -counsel to give. - -“Don’t overwhelm the boy with formal apologies and embarrassing -praises, dear child. You would only make him uncomfortable. Try to let -him see that you like and trust him, and want to help him all you can. -It’s no light duty he has undertaken. You, more than anybody, can make -it a pleasant one.” - -When Frances came to attempt the putting in practice of her friend’s -advice, she found an obstacle in the barrier of shyness and constraint -which the unlucky past had raised between her and her elder brother. -Jim was obviously uneasy in her presence--dreading, poor fellow, -a criticism which he had every reason to think would be to his -disadvantage. He came to Elveley, during the three days of waiting, as -little as he could; though, as Mrs. Morland seemed determined to fulfil -literally her expressed intention of “retiring into private life”, he -was obliged to act for her at every point, to give all necessary orders -about the removal, and to interview, as her appointed representative, -all persons who had business with her. Jim did his utmost; but at -Elveley he grew each moment more weary and dispirited, as he recognized -more and more clearly the difference between the surroundings to which -his stepmother and her children had been accustomed and those into -which he had offered to take them. He kept his forebodings secret, but -they worried him none the less. - -The long-continued trouble had at last brought Frances one comfort -which made amends for everything. It had given Austin--the old -Austin--back to her, and had shown the lad at his best. His manly -instincts had come into evidence, and he had hovered patiently about -his mother and sister, assuring them that he would soon be grown-up, -and able to work for them. Then they would all be happy again. -Meanwhile--as growing-up is a slow process--he was content to leave to -Jim the ordering of affairs. He knew that he meant from the beginning -to do his share, but he wisely refrained from informing his mother -that his accomplishment of horse-shoeing was at length to “come in -handy”. - -Frances, too, had laid her plans, and meant to be a busy little -housewife. She had confided to Muriel Carlyon all the doubts and -difficulties which had made her hold aloof from her favourite comrades, -even to the extent of deserting her cherished Society; and now, feeling -that at last she possessed no worrying secrets and was fairly on the -road to recover her self-respect, Frances rejoiced in the possession of -a true friend to whom she might turn for the encouragement she could -not find at home. On the day before the departure from Elveley, she -paid a “farewell” visit (only Muriel scouted the word “farewell”) to -Woodbank, and entertained herself and her companion with a discussion -of her coming diversions. - -“I am going to be ever so useful,” she announced blithely. “It -wasn’t for nothing, after all, that we girls started our Club. We’ve -learned to cook and to iron, and I’ve not forgotten your lessons -in cutting-out. I can make my own frocks and things, and the boys’ -shirts.--I call Austin and Jim ‘the boys’,” she went on with a little -flush, “so that I may get used to thinking of them together.” - -“You know where to come for help, darling.” - -“Yes, thank you. Oh, I’m so glad we’re going to Rowdon, not to some -quite strange place, far away from you and the girls! Miss Carlyon, -we had a little bit of good news this morning. Mamma’s lawyer wrote -to tell her that the people who have made her sell Elveley are -going to let her keep some of her favourite books and pictures and -furniture--anything she likes up to a certain value--and some of her -glass and silver. And Austin and I may have all our very own things: -so that Austin is going to take his cameras, and Jim has promised him -a dark-room. That will be so nice for him, won’t it? He has a fine -stock of plates and chemicals, and we must make them last as long as we -can. They’ll keep a good while. Most of Mamma’s things were chosen and -packed at once, and have gone away to-day. Austin went with them, to -help Jim.” - -“You would have known, far better than your brothers, how to arrange -the rooms as your mother would like best.” - -“I shall have some time to-morrow,” said Frances, colouring. “Mamma -will not leave Elveley till the last thing, but I can go to Rowdon -early in the day.” - -“And you will go by yourself?” - -“No--Florry is coming with me.” Frances admitted rather awkwardly this -evidence of the shy feeling which made her avoid the sole company -of Jim. “We are going to unpack and put away all the clothing, and -finish Mamma’s sitting-room ready for her. Jim has been kind about the -sitting-room. He has made Mamma understand that it is to be quite her -own; he has moved out of it the old things which used to be there, and -has put them into the room opposite, where he keeps all sorts of tools -and some of the materials for his work. I remember very well when we -went to Rowdon Cottage--that’s what they call the little house beside -the smithy--Jim’s grandfather inviting us to look into ‘Jim’s den’. It -was neat and nice, only it had no proper furniture except tables and -chairs. There were loads of shelves in it. I do love shelves!” - -Muriel Carlyon laughed with pleasure to see the girl’s cheeks grow pink -as she pictured to herself a real workshop, with entrancing rows of -tools, a carpenter’s bench, apparatus for various kindred handicrafts, -and a floor littered with fresh-smelling shavings and sawdust. - -“It was a jolly ‘den’!” continued Frances; “and if--if I do get -friends with Jim, I know I shall beg admittance sometimes to his -treasure-chamber. I shouldn’t wonder if Austin had a corner of it all -to himself. Jim is very fond of Austin. I’m certain he is, though I’ve -hardly seen them together. You could tell by the way they look at one -another.” - -“Well, dear, you must have a corner of your mother’s sitting-room.” - -Frances shook her head. “Mamma would be miserable if there were any -litter about her, she likes everything spick and span. And, you know, -Austin and I do want her to be as happy as she can. It is so very, very -dreadful for her--” Frances paused awkwardly “I mean, it is dreadful to -give up the nice things she has been used to for such a long time.” - -“It is, darling; indeed it is.” - -“So I thought if only she could have her own rooms filled with her -own things she might not miss what she has to leave--at least, not so -much. And when Jim told her she must count the sitting-room quite for -herself, it did seem possible to make that pretty. Then the room above -it is to be hers too. It is a pity, but I must take a corner of that. -I am afraid Mamma will dislike sharing her bedroom, especially as her -furniture will fill it up so; but we can’t help it. There are only four -rooms upstairs, and the two back ones are tiny places, not big enough -for anyone to sleep in. One will be for our boxes, and the other is -full of lumber already. The second bedroom is for the boys. Austin and -I are to have our own little beds, so they won’t take up much room.” - -Muriel listened to all these confidences and to many more before she -allowed Frances to leave her. She knew that the girl was in real need -of a woman’s sympathy and encouragement, and she hoped by judicious -counsel to make the entry on a new and strange life a little easier -for her favourite. Miss Carlyon was quite as fond of planning and -contriving as were any of her young folk; she meant to do her full -share in helping forward Frances’s ambitions, and to see that none of -her girls had more of her personal help and affection than the lass who -was so ready and eager to conquer fate. - - * * * * * - -The lights in Rowdon Cottage burned throughout that last night of Jim -Morland’s solitary life. The hours of dusk and darkness and dawning -were few and short to the busy lad, who worked steadily and with -intention during every moment they gave him. Jim’s eyes were already -fairly-well opened to the nature of the burden he had taken on his -young shoulders. He had accepted in a spirit Mrs. Morland had not -dreamed of, her injunction that he should consider himself the head of -the little family. - -He knew that he must be, first of all, the bread-winner. Jim’s -calculations as to ways and means were already completed, and he had -reckoned up the average of his earnings, added the result to the sum -which came to him from the provision made by his grandfather, and -decided that he might count on a weekly income of thirty-five shillings. - -Jim was not ignorant enough to suppose that this amount could allow for -any save the simplest methods of housekeeping, even when supplemented -by garden produce and home-reared poultry. The old woman who did -his cooking and housework expected only a small wage, but this, and -her food, made a serious item of expenditure; and poor Jim wondered -anxiously whether her blundering ways would be tolerated by his -fastidious stepmother. Jim was not prone to hard judgments, but he was -not a fool; and he had seen that Mrs. Morland could be both unjust -and unreasonable. He knew, only too surely, how Frances had shrunk -from contact with himself; and argued that she would be predisposed to -despise his cottage home. - -The lad grew hot and cold by turns as he anticipated his inability to -satisfy their expectations; and at last came to the wise decision that -he would, at the outset, make confession of his modest means, and avoid -the worse pain of raising hopes he could not fulfil. - -“For I must not run into debt,” pondered Jim. “I promised grandfather I -never would do that.” - -Even without the remembered promise to admonish him, Jim was not -cast in the mould of those people who can look their just creditors -unblushingly in the face. - -When morning brought his elderly housekeeper, the lad nerved himself -for an ordeal. This was no less a matter than an important parley with -old Elizabeth Macbean. Elizabeth was a Scotswoman, and an excellent -domestic according to her lights; but her gaunt, angular person and -strong-featured countenance were not prepossessing, and Jim was -nervously anxious lest she should give offence by her independent -speech and manners. To old East and his grandson her civility had -never fallen short; she had looked on them as her superiors simply -because they employed her, and she had even shown a kind of motherly -interest in her younger master. But Jim recollected that Elizabeth had -heard with compressed lips and scowling brow the facts he had found -it necessary to tell her about the changed affairs of Rowdon Cottage; -so he was not without qualms as he prepared to add to his news at -this latest possible moment. His gentle nature made him shrink from -inflicting pain, and he feared he was about to hurt well-meaning old -Elizabeth. Fortunately, Jim had no mixed notions on the score of duty; -and it seemed to him now that his duty was plain. - -He left Elizabeth to go about her morning work as usual, and was -careful to do justice to the simple breakfast prepared for him. -Home-baked scones and new-laid eggs were excellent fare in Jim’s -opinion; and he rose from the table refreshed and strengthened in spite -of his long night of toil. - -“I don’t think as anything could be better than your scones, -Elizabeth,” said Jim, from a discreet post at the kitchen door. “You’ll -let me have some every day when the children come, won’t you? I’m sure -they’ll like your scones, Elizabeth.” - -“I’ll see what I can dae. Whiles they have nae butter-milk up at the -fairm.” - -The tone of Mrs. Macbean’s voice was not promising, and her attitude, -as, shovel in hand, she “made up” her fire, was positively militant. -Jim drew on his reserve fund of determination and stood his ground. - -“Well, can you spare a moment, Elizabeth? I have something to tell you.” - -“I hae thocht that,” replied Mrs. Macbean, with disconcerting -promptitude. - -“And I hope you won’t take it unkind,” added Jim. - -“I’ll mak nae promises,” snapped Elizabeth. - -[Illustration: - -M432 - -“NAY, ELIZABETH,” SAID JIM KINDLY, “THERE’S NO NEED FOR LOCKING UP.”] - -“Anyway, I must say it,” continued the lad gravely. “You know, -Elizabeth, as there’s ladies coming here to-day. I’ve told you all -about it, and how, though they’re my very own folk (Jim held his head -proudly), they’ve been brought up different. I’m wanting, most of -all, as they shall feel this cottage home-like, and so I’d not have -them miss, more than I can help, all they’ve had to give up. You’ve -always managed for grandfather and me, Elizabeth; and you’ve served -us faithful, as I’ll never forget. But when my stepmother and my -half-sister come (Jim was faithfully exact), they’ll be mistresses -here. I want you to go to one of them every day for orders, and do your -best to please them.” - -Jim held his breath. - -“Jist as ye please, sir,” was the sole response of Elizabeth; and -thrusting one hand deeply into a serviceable pocket, she dragged out, -with ostentatious indifference, a small bunch of keys, and flung them -clatteringly on to the kitchen-table. - -“Nay, Elizabeth,” said Jim kindly, “there’s no need for locking up, -and I’m sure the ladies won’t wish it. Keep the keys, and give me -your promise as you’ll help me all you can. I’m a bit worried and -sore-hearted, Elizabeth.” - -“There’s nae doot aboot that,” returned the old dame, though evidently -mollified. “I hae watched ye ever since ye telt me o’ the happenings at -the grand hoose yonder, where your fine leddy mither and sister wear -their silks an’ satins; and I hae seen the speirit gang oot o’ ye. But -I’ll dae your wull, maister.” - -“That’ll be all right, then, Elizabeth,” said Jim, sighing in relief of -spirit. “You’ve made the cottage beautiful clean and fresh-like, and -I’m sure you’ll keep things nice.” - -Then Mrs. Macbean uplifted her long person after a final dash at the -coals, and emphasized her speech with her loaded shovel. - -“I hae served gentlefolk afore,” she remarked grimly; “and I’m no -needin’ tellin’ as to hoo I’ll serve them the noo. There’s ae thing -mair. I hae kent, lang afore ye hae telt me onything, Maister Jim, that -ye were come o’ gentle folk yersel. Ye hae a’ the look o’ it; and I’m -thinkin’ it’s a peety.” - -With these uncompromising words, Mrs. Macbean flung the contents of -her shovel on the fire, snatched up a broom, and vanished through the -back door. Jim sighed again, and went off to give the rooms a final -inspection. His last visit was to the “den” of which Frances had told -Miss Carlyon. Thence he emerged with a strange glimmer of a smile on -his lips. - -As he stepped to the threshold of the front door, which stood wide -open to the warm August airs, he saw a sight which made him halt -irresolutely, while his pulses throbbed in sheer nervous excitement. - -A couple of girls had just reached the gate, and were pacing slowly up -the path between the glowing flower-beds: as they came, they pointed -out eagerly to one another old favourites they could recognize among -the cared-for luxuriance of the borders. - -“See!” said the sweet, clear voice of Frances, “isn’t that a splendid -clump of southernwood? And those deep purple pansies--I love them!” - -Jim caught his breath sharply. If Frances could “love” anything about -Rowdon! - -“What darling snapdragons--white and yellow and red!” - -“And those briar roses--aren’t they late?” - -The girls bent low to enjoy the varied fragrance. Jim felt something -in his throat, and for a moment saw the pretty girlish figures through -a mist. A sudden access of joy filled his heart. Could it be that -his home was to know the familiar presence of such as these? Could -anything he had to offer be worthy of their soft eyes and dainty hands? -He gazed, in a happiness he could not have explained, at the gracious -picture before him. Only a pair of charming English lassies; but for -simple Jim they were an inspiration to love all that was highest, -purest, worthiest. - -Florry Fane lifted her head, and caught sight of Frances’s -“blacksmith-brother”. Florry did not keep her intellect for -book-studies, and she called on it now to help the situation. - -“Hallo!” she exclaimed merrily, “there’s Jim! I shall run and ask him -to tell me the name of that pretty blue flower!” - -She hurried on, and before Frances could overtake her had gained the -porch, and held out her hand to Jim, who stood waiting there. - -“Good-morning, Mr. Morland!” said Florry, in gay greeting; “we’ve come -to make ourselves tremendously useful. We’ve great big aprons in this -bag, and Austin has lent us a hammer and a packet of nails. We mean -business, you see.” - -Jim took the kind little hand, and bade Florry welcome with most -respectful courtesy. It was good of her to call him by his father’s -name; but, being Frances’s friend, she was, of course, a queen among -girls. - -Frances came up, and finding the ice thus broken, managed to greet Jim -easily enough. The three talked for a few moments in the porch. - -“Now we must go in and set to work,” declared Florry presently; and Jim -stood aside that she might lead the way; then, as Frances made a shy -motion to follow, he detained his sister by a slight gesture. - -“I hope as you’ll find things right, Missy,” said the youth in a low -voice. “I’ve a lot of work to do in the smithy yonder, and I’ll be -there all day most like. Elizabeth will bring me something to eat; and -so--so--the place’ll be clear, if you and Miss Fane wish to stay. I -bade Elizabeth ask what you’d fancy,”--Jim coloured, and added with -some effort,--“and you won’t forget, Missy, as you’re mistress here.” - -Frances wanted to say something kind and appreciative; but while -she watched her brother’s nervousness her own came back to her, and -she searched vainly for words which might make an approach to frank -confidence between them seem possible. Jim saw only her hesitation, and -hastily concluding that his forebodings had been justified, stepped -quietly out of the porch and took the side-path to the smithy. - -“I believe it will always be like this,” thought Frances, as she gazed -remorsefully after her brother’s tall, well set-up figure. “I wonder -why I’m such a silly? I wish he wouldn’t call me ‘Missy’. I wish I -could tell him nicely--so that he wouldn’t be vexed--that he ought to -say ‘Frances’, as Austin does. Austin would know how to do it, but -that’s because he behaved kindly and fairly and has nothing to be -ashamed of. And Jim has been so good to us, so generous and forgiving; -I ought to be proud of him--and I think I am, deep down in my heart. -It’s the top part of me that’s so ungracious and horrid. How stupid to -be shy, when he’s my own brother! Shall I ever be sensible about it?” - -Just as Frances reached this plaintive speculation her friend’s -patience gave way, and Florry, who had ventured on a peep into the -sitting-room, came back to fetch the loiterer. - -“It looks quite nice already,” said Florry cheerfully. “There really -isn’t much for us to do, except the ‘etceteras’.” She dragged Frances -forcibly into Mrs. Morland’s future sanctum. “See! even the curtains -have been put up; and don’t they hang nicely? One of your brothers has -ideas, Frances! I wonder which of them ‘disposed’ that drapery?” - -“Not Austin; he wouldn’t be bothered!” laughed Frances. “The room does -look pretty. Those soft gray walls are such a nice background for the -pictures. It was kind of the creditor-people to let Mamma keep some of -her pictures and china, wasn’t it?” - -“I suppose so,” said Florry soberly. “But as your mother wasn’t really -a bit to blame--” - -“Don’t! Miss Carlyon says the more I ‘nurse a grievance’ the worse -things will seem. I’m certain she’s right; for I begin to feel my -‘angry passions rise’ the moment I give them a chance.” - -“Come, then--to business! Here are two suggestive-looking boxes already -unfastened for us. What lurks within, fellow-conspirator?” - -“Nothing very mysterious. Only a few special treasures of Mamma’s, and -some of her books, and other odds and ends. There’s the empty book-case -in that corner. Good Austin! He has remembered to put up the brackets -and small shelves for the china.” - -“Isn’t that a pretty little overmantel? I don’t recollect seeing it at -Elveley. What dainty carving!” - -“It never was at Elveley,” said Frances, in a puzzled voice; “and it -is pretty. Those two long shelves will be lovely for photographs and -the little figures papa brought from India. Oh! the overmantel is a -blessing. Let’s make haste to fill it.” - -“No--I’ll do the books, and leave you the treasures. Ah, what a jolly -Browning! Isn’t this binding perfect? Hallo! it’s Rivière’s! Frances, -you’re a lucky girl. It ought to make you amiable to live with this.” - -“Goose! I like a binding I can handle. I wouldn’t give my own Browning -for that; though I own that Rivière, like our unknown genius of the -curtains, has ‘ideas’.” - -“Here’s an edition of Jane Austen in crimson morocco. Frances, I -wouldn’t have Jane Austen in crimson. She ought to be bound in French -gray, or ‘puce’, or anything old-fashioned and sweet. Never mind; here -she goes, dear old thing! When we’ve finished with this room, Francy, -do let’s unpack your treasures. I helped you to pack them, so I shall -know just where everything is.” - -Frances shook her head. “I told Austin to send my boxes to the little -place upstairs. There’s no room for their contents anywhere.” - -Florry looked unmistakably crestfallen. - -“You see, this is the only sitting-room besides Jim’s den,” continued -Frances hastily; “and Mamma and I have to share a bedroom. I’ve been -wondering where I shall pop my mammoth work-basket.” - -“Oh, Frances! Your beautiful Altruist basket!” Florry saw her friend -wince, and, running across the room, threw her arms about the other -lassie and hugged her close. “Come back to us, Francy dear! oh, do! You -were the first Altruist, and the best--” - -“Ah, no, no!” cried Frances, with a tremble in her voice; “I was just a -great humbug--a mean pretender!” - -“You never were. You started it all; and, Frances, it has been of some -use to Woodend. The Rector says so, and Mr. Carlyon, and Dr. Brenton, -and--Max. If Max says so--who would dispute Max? Francy, all the girls -and boys want you to come back.” - -“I can’t till I’m gooder,” said Frances, wavering between sobs and -smiles. “I’m a shabby, horrid thing! Florry, don’t let’s talk of those -jolly old times--before last Christmas. See! I’m going to work hard. I -won’t say another word till I’ve finished.” - -Florry could both see and hear that the resolve was a wise one; so she -went sedately back to her books, and was in the thick of “business” -when the sitting-room door was pushed open and Mrs. Macbean entered. - -The girls at once greeted the old woman,--whom they had seen more than -once when they had paid holiday visits to the smithy,--with a pleasant -word and smile. - -“I hae made a bit dinner for ye, Missies,” said Elizabeth, striving -after the manners she considered due to gentlefolk, “and I hae pit doon -the table-claith, as the maister’s bidding was, in the room on the -ither side o’ the passage. Maybe ye’ll ring the bell yonder when ye’re -minded for me to serve ye.” - -“Oh, Elizabeth, you are good!” said Frances gratefully. “We meant to go -home for dinner; but it is a long way, isn’t it, Florry?” - -“Rather! And we’ve such lots to do. Elizabeth--best of Elizabeths!--do -say we are to have some of those delicious scones you brought to us -once when we came here to plague you!” - -“Surely ye’ll no be minding on my bits o’ scones, Missy?” inquired Mrs. -Macbean graciously. “The likes o’ you lassies I never did see! Weel, -I’ve nae doot I can obleege ye; and ye’ll likely no refuse a whang -o’ the cream cheese that the fairm-wife sent till the maister this -morning. Come awa’ wi’ ye, Missies, ben the ither room, and I’ll bring -the dishes in. It’s one o’clock--late eneuch for bairns.” - -Elizabeth bustled away, secretly well pleased that it was once more her -lot to wait on gentlefolk. Perhaps there was in the peasant woman’s -nature a strain of sympathy which, if it made her jealous for her -“maister’s” rights and dignity, was no less capable of appreciating the -trouble which had fallen on Jim’s “fine leddy mither and sister”. - -The girls ran upstairs to wash their dusty hands, and chased each other -down again amid peals of laughter, which brought indulgent smiles to -Mrs. Macbean’s face and sent her with good-will to her serving. - -“Fancy dining in Jim’s den!” laughed Frances, pausing at the door. “We -shall need to use the sitting-room for meals, I suppose, when we’ve a -proper table there. I’m glad we’re going in here to-day. It’s a lovely -place, Florry,--all shelves and saw-dust, and dear little saws and -hammers and things. Don’t you like a carpenter’s shop? I do. I always -envied the boy Altruists--” - -Frances, having by this time led the way into “Jim’s den”, stood just -beyond the threshold, too absolutely surprised at what she now saw -to remember after what fashion she had envied the boys. The room had -undergone a transformation. The walls had been freshly covered with -a pretty paper; the wide, latticed windows had been hung with dainty -Madras muslin, with sage-green draperies at either side to be drawn -across at night. The carpet was of the same soft tint, and so were the -furnishings of two or three wicker chairs placed at cosy points. The -deep window-seat held a couple of big cushions of yellow silk, and was -thickly padded, and covered to match the chairs. On a table close to -the window stood the Altruist work-basket. Most of the shelves which -Frances had admired still ran along the walls, and on them were neatly -ranged, not the paraphernalia of handicrafts, but the many special -possessions of Frances and Austin. Their own treasured volumes filled -two plain book-cases, whence had been banished the hoarded sum of Jim’s -library. - -Before her eyes had taken in half the details, Frances turned to Florry -and exclaimed impetuously: “Oh, what made him do this? How could he? -Jim has given up his den to us!” - -“He is a brick!” said Florry heartily. “Now you know where your things -are going, Frances. I believe they are all here. There’s your mother’s -Christmas present”--Florry pointed to the desk on a side-table spread -with the children’s writing materials. “There’s your easel, and -your paint-boxes are on the shelf close at hand. What’s behind that -inviting-looking curtain hung between those two shelves?” - -“Austin’s photographic things,” replied Frances, peeping; “here are -his cameras, plates, papers, chemicals, and everything. He is to use -the bath-room for developing; he has been covering the window with red -stuff. Fancy a bath-room in a cottage like this! Jim’s grandfather -built it out at the back.” - -“Austin will be very much obliged to him.” - -“Florry,” said Frances, a troubled look in her eyes, “I don’t think -Austin and I ought to take this room from Jim. He cannot possibly have -anywhere else to go. I think I will just find my way to the smithy this -very moment, and talk to him about it.” - -“Good!” returned Florry equably; “I will e’en to that cosy window-seat -and watch for your return.” - -Frances departed in a hurry for fear of failing courage; and Florry, -who had something to say, but was in no haste to say it, carried a book -to the window and felt herself at home. - -Jim stood by his anvil, making, with level, well-aimed blows, rough -nails for farmers’ use. He had flung off his coat and waistcoat, rolled -up his sleeves, and donned a leathern apron. It was Jim the blacksmith -on whose hardy toil Frances cast shy and interested eyes. He did not -look so unapproachable as she had expected; but it was evident that her -coming had startled him. The lad laid down his hammer, however, and -stepped forward at once. - -“You want me, Missy?” he said quickly, with an undefined hope that his -sister might be about to command his willing service. - -“Oh no!” said Frances; “I didn’t mean to interrupt you--at least, only -for a minute. I came to say that--that Florry and I have been looking -at your room--” - -Jim was hungering for a word of satisfaction. If, indeed, he had -pleased Frances, surely he might dare to hope that he had not begun -amiss. - -“You used to have so many things there,” continued Frances, her -self-possession deserting her as she noted the expression of her -brother’s grave young face. “I don’t think Austin and I ought to be so -much in your way.” - -“You could never be that, Missy,” said Jim, whose spirits sank -unaccountably at the painful courtesy of Frances’s manner. “It’ll be -right for you to have a little place where you’ll feel private-like, -and know as nobody will interfere.” - -“You are kind, Jim,” said Frances; and the girl hung her head in shame -that no warmer words would come at her bidding. - -“Surely not,” said Jim dejectedly. “There’s no talk of kindness so -long as I can do aught--” Jim hesitated, fearing to offend by some -obtrusively brother-like speech, and his pleading glance fell at the -sight of Frances’s averted head. “There, Missy,” he continued gently; -“don’t you go for to trouble yourself about my bits of things. I’ve a -deal more room for them in the big shed behind here; and they’ll be -handier to get at. You’ve no call to think twice of them.” - -Then Frances stepped close, and laid her hand on Jim’s arm. - -“You are kind--and good,” she said earnestly. “I don’t know why you -should take us in here, and bother about us at all.” - -“Don’t, Missy!” murmured Jim, keenly wounded. “Who should care for you -and the little lad, if not me?” - -“Nobody would, Jim; nobody. And I don’t see why you should. But indeed -I do want to help, and to share the work all I can. I shall soon find -out--and I’ll beg Elizabeth to teach me.” - -“No!--no!” Jim was touched at his tenderest point. “You’ll do naught -here but what pleases you, Missy. ’Tis for men to work and make -beautiful homes for their lady-folk.” - -“Girls work now as well as boys, Jim,” returned Frances rather -wistfully. She had been wont to dream of the life-work which should -be hers some day--of voluntary, altruistic toil among the poor and -suffering of the great city; not of humdrum daily tasks which could -claim no more fascinating name than the prosaic one of duty. - -“I cannot see as that’s right, Missy,” said Jim; and Frances -looked with a certain pity at this lad born out of due time--this -old-fashioned believer in the right of woman to be worked for, and -set apart and worshipped. If he could have heard Miss Cliveden’s -impassioned voice as she urged her pupils to remember their sacred -claim to share with men the glorious task of making history! - -Jim was utterly out of date. He bent his head and kissed reverently the -little fingers resting on his arm; then caught up his hammer and began -afresh to work for his “lady-folk” with all his peasant might. - -Frances went slowly back to her comrade. - -“Jim will make us keep the room,” said the girl with conviction; “and I -do not believe I even thanked him properly.” - -“I wouldn’t worry him with gratitude,” remarked Florry the philosopher. -“I would just clear a corner for him and ask him to occupy it. I fancy -he would like that better than thankings.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -A GENTLEMAN-BLACKSMITH. - - -The energy of the Altruists languished a good deal during the long -summer vacation. Edward and Muriel Carlyon went on a six-weeks’ visit -to a relative in the north, and enjoyed themselves mightily after a -year of hard work. Edward’s black coat did not hinder him from tasting -the happiness peculiar to the sportsman-naturalist; and Muriel’s -governessing had not taken the charm from her tramps through heather -and bracken. A good many of the younger Altruists were off to the -seaside: those that remained in Woodend voted it ridiculous to attend -meetings over which there was nobody in particular to preside. - -Florry Fane received a long-hoped-for invitation to visit an aunt who -had settled in Normandy, whence she was in the habit of making frequent -excursions to continental cities. The chance of seeing Paris, Rome, -and Florence was suddenly flashed before Florry’s dazed eyes, and her -parents prepared to miss for a couple of months, at least, the light of -their quiet home. Frances Morland did not learn till long afterwards -that Florry had turned resolutely from the offered treat because she -would not leave her friend in the hour of trouble. - -“Paris must wait,” said Florry, “till Frances is happy again.” - -The self-denying little Altruist proved that no meetings were necessary -to hold her to the accepted motto of her Society. Hardly a day passed -without the appearance at Rowdon of her bright face and helpful hands. -Jim’s heart grew lighter directly he heard “Miss Fane’s” voice. It -was good to hear for its own sake, and then it meant the best of -comradeship for Frances. - -The Society sent another delegate to do its work at the smithy. Max -and Florry frequently travelled the three miles together, arguing as -they went with a vivacity learned at the school “symposia”. They never -convinced one another, but it was all the better to be able to look -forward to a fresh bout of disagreeing next time. Sometimes they -walked, sometimes they rode with a friendly farmer or begged a lift -in the Doctor’s trap. Journey as they might, they always turned up -smiling, contented, and in hot dispute. - -It was Max’s fair season at Woodend; the season when his many public -concerns made least demand on him, and he was most free to remember -private interests. His invalids were at their best; his poor folk -were recovering from the effects of the burning heat in their stuffy -rooms, and were still independent of warm clothing. Moreover, a wealthy -valetudinarian had bought Elveley, and was demanding a daily visit -from Dr. Brenton. Max ventured to anticipate the consequent fees, -and on his own responsibility borrowed from the “Examinations” fund -the wherewithal to present the dog-cart with a new rug and its owner -with a new overcoat. Dr. Brenton retaliated by ordering for Max a -trim Eton suit--challenging the chancellor of the exchequer to refuse -to pay for it, and in so doing to ruin his father’s credit. Then the -unconventional pair attired themselves festively, and beamed at each -other in the joy of their reciprocal liberality. - -Max and Austin were always merry at the smithy, and they did their best -to make Jim merry likewise. With fervent good-will they wielded the -hammer, and smote the anvil, and practised horse-shoeing until their -teacher pronounced them adepts. Sometimes they dragged Jim off to the -common, where they had cut and rolled a decent pitch for their cricket. -Jim could play, of course, but his science was behind theirs. It seemed -to the boys a fair return for lessons in horse-shoeing when their -hints, added to natural quickness of eye and hand, had made of Jim a -most respectable bowler. - -The Morland family had by this time fairly settled at Rowdon, and -accepted, after their varying fashion, the fresh order of their lives. -The first excitement of change and bustle was over, and with it had -gone the impression of relief from pressing disaster, as well as the -sense of unrest and adventure which had served to dispel fruitless -broodings and cast a glamour of romance over the new cottage-home. -Frances and Austin were too busy and too active to sink back into -despondency; but their mother suffered acutely--all the more acutely -because she shut herself and her gloom out of the reach of the -kindliest sympathizers. - -Loneliness and misery rendered her harsh and intolerant to the -youngsters who longed to comfort her. She was irritated by seeing her -own children seemingly happy and contented, and by witnessing the small -_gaucheries_ of her stepson’s harmless rusticity. Jim, better able than -the younger ones to understand her condition, bore her sharp reproofs -and covert sneers with determined self-control. They hurt him none the -less; and he suspected that he was despised for the very efforts after -a dutiful bearing which cost him so much: but he never had cherished -any hope of pleasing or satisfying his stepmother, and was grateful -that she kept her promise of not intervening between him and his -brother and sister. - -It was true that she had not much opportunity of doing so, for the -three young people were seldom together. Frances found plenty of ways -in which she could help Elizabeth; who was willing to be relieved of -lighter duties, though she would not for worlds have allowed her young -mistress to do anything she could make time to do herself. Then there -were studies to be kept up, books to be read on the recommendation of -Miss Carlyon or Florry, old friends to be visited in spare hours, and -the family mending to be attended to. - -Jim was an excellent craftsman, as his neighbours had soon discovered; -but working alone, and with only the simplest appliances, he could -not attempt the higher branches of a smith’s trade. He had constant -employment, but no greater returns than any other skilled artisan could -depend on; and after the first month of his new life had gone by he -began to be tormented by anxiety as to ways and means. Part of his -weekly income came from his small invested capital, and on the latter -he soon found he must draw to meet household expenses. This meant, by -and by, a reduction on the interest paid to him in consideration of his -grandfather’s savings, and a consequent lessening of his resources. - -When Mrs. Morland had first come to Rowdon, he had told her frankly the -amount of his income, and had suggested that she should have control -over it and make the housekeeping her own charge. Most women would have -been touched by the offer, which was surely honourable to the lad who -made it. - -“My good boy,” replied Mrs. Morland, “you really must excuse me from -undertaking the management of your house and the responsibility of -your wealth. I have never learned how to spend pennies, and I have -no idea when porridge and herrings are in season. I might order by -mistake a halfpenny-worth too much milk, and then where would you -be? No, believe me, you will manage far better yourself. Or stay, -it might amuse Frances to play with sixpences, and she is terribly -conscientious. No doubt she would calculate the required milk to a -drop. I have always felt sure she had a genius for figures, since -she told me she “kept the accounts” of that funny little Society she -started and got tired of. Children always get tired of everything; but -Frances might find housekeeping quite a pleasant entertainment for a -time. Go and ask her, James. And do try to avoid grimacing. It makes me -quite uncomfortable to see that frowning brow and those tightly-drawn -lips. So like some melodramatic, middle-class novel. Run away, boy. -Ta-ta.” - -Jim’s courage, after this rebuff, was not equal to the task of -approaching Frances, and his sister would have heard nothing of the -interview if Mrs. Morland had not diverted herself by giving Frances -a special version of it. The girl listened in silence, and with -half-acknowledged regret on Jim’s behalf. Frances felt instinctively -that Jim had made an honest advance, and that he had been unworthily -answered. - -She was sorry that time did not prove correct her mother’s prophecy -that her brother would come to her next; and she debated anxiously with -herself whether he would be vexed if she were to offer to try her own -prentice hand at the ordering of the cottage affairs. Jim had certainly -invited her to remember that she was “mistress” at Rowdon; there could -be no undaughterly presumption in filling the place her mother had -refused. - -Frances decided that Jim had better be the one to open the question; -but Jim held his tongue, and bore his own burdens. He had been -accustomed to leave the provisioning of his little household to -Elizabeth, and to pay the weekly bills without investigation. Now he -found that he must not only investigate, but urge on Mrs. Macbean the -strictest economy. Even then, as has been said, his income must be -supplemented somehow. - -Further, the lad worried himself about the arrested education of his -young brother and sister. At first it was undivided happiness to have -Austin so constantly at his side, and to catch glimpses of Frances -tending the flowers or feeding the chickens. But when he found his -brother obstinately determined to help in the smithy, and discovered -that his sister actually made beds and dusted rooms, he began to accuse -himself of grossly neglected duties. - -Edward and Muriel Carlyon had sought out Mrs. Morland on their return -home, and had begged her in most tactful fashion to let them keep -their two pupils without payment of school-fees. Mrs. Morland’s pride -had not been sufficient to render her quite blind to the value of the -opportunity; but she had tried to save her self-esteem by leaving the -matter for the children’s own settlement. Austin and Frances were -not blind either, and they saw more clearly now than before what a -good education might mean to them. They had talked the subject over -together, they had invited the counsel of Florry and Max. It was -significant that they did not seek their mother’s advice. Finally, they -went to Woodbank in company, and put their concerns bravely and fully -before their two kindly friends and teachers. - -Frances and Austin did not go back to school, but they went twice a -week to Woodbank for private lessons in modern languages, classics, and -mathematics, and studied at home between whiles. Every evening they -spent at least a couple of hours over their books, and found chances -for music and drawing as best they could in the daytime. - -It was this custom which led, one evening in November, to an unexpected -development in the quiet life of Rowdon Cottage. The boy and girl -(Austin being the chief spokesman) had persuaded Jim that they would -not accept sole rights in his old “den”. He must spend there his few -hours of leisure, and a book-case brought from Elveley should be -consecrated to his library. Jim at first availed himself but sparingly -of his opportunities. Usually he worked all the early part of the -evening in the smithy or the shed, and later on disappeared into the -little lumber attic where he had disposed the tools and materials -for his wood-carving. But sometimes he would slip quietly into the -children’s room--the study, as they chose to call it,--and after a -respectful, interested glance at the pair of young students seated -opposite one another, with the shaded lamp between them, at the round -table, would take a book from his shelf and try to remember that he was -one of the family. - -On the evening in question, Frances had noticed that Jim had betaken -himself to his own corner with a volume which she had seen with some -surprise to be Green’s _Short History of the English People_. The lad -read steadily for an hour or so, and Frances, each time she looked up, -saw that his attention was firmly fixed on the page. But presently Jim -leaned back in his chair, his book rested on his knee, and his eyes -were turned towards the round table with an expression which his sister -found uncomfortably suggestive of some latent longing. She hesitated -for a moment, and then said diffidently: - -“Don’t you like your book, Jim?” - -“Yes, but I’ve finished it, thank you, Missy.” - -Jim had not learned to say “Frances”; but “Missy”, as he pronounced it, -had the accents of a pet-name, and his sister had ceased to find fault -with it. - -“Fancy! You must read fast. Can you remember all those names and -things? I do think it’s difficult.” - -“I’ve read this book three times,” said Jim gently. He had read, ever -since he could remember, all the historical works he could get hold of. -“I ought to remember it now, Missy.” - -“Do you want to?” asked Frances curiously. - -“Ay--surely. Else, what good to be an Englishman?” - -“Jim,” began Frances after anxious cogitation, “would you like--would -you care--to study with Austin and me?” The girl flushed a little as -she went on hurriedly: “There are heaps of things I dare say you know -far more about than we do; but there are some ... and Papa would have -liked....” - -Poor Frances stopped in awkward fear of hurting the lowly-reared -brother. - -She need not have paused. The words were hardly spoken when Jim’s face -lighted up with eager pleasure. - -“Missy--I’d love it! Oh, would you--could you--?” - -“Of course we could,” interrupted Austin with a merry laugh. “Jim, old -man, you are an eccentric. Fancy meeting a fellow who needn’t stew at -lessons, and actually wants to! Come to the table this very minute!” -Austin flew to drag up a third chair and force Jim into it. “Now then, -what’s it to be first--classics or mathematics?” - -“Austin, don’t worry, dear,” said Frances, seeing that Jim’s breath -came fast from the excitement of what was to him a momentous -opportunity. “Tell Jim the lessons we have at Woodbank, then he can -choose what he would like best.” - -Then Jim seized his chance and spoke. - -“I’d like best to learn to speak right, Missy,” said the youth -earnestly; “so as you’d have no need, some day, to feel shame of me.” - -It was a hard thing to say, but Jim got through it. - -Frances was on the point of disclaiming vehemently. She was checked by -the certainty that her brother would not believe her. Had she not long -ago proved him right? - -“Humph!” said Austin, again filling the breach; “that’s in your line, -Sis. ‘Grammar and Analysis’, and all that twaddle. I hate the stuff.” - -“Very well,” agreed Frances quickly, “Jim and I will study subjects and -objects; and you’ll see, sir, _my_ pupil won’t hate them.” - -“And you’ll see, miss, that _my_ pupil will cross the _Pons Asinorum_ -with a leap and a bound.” - -“_My_ pupil will read Latin without a crib.” - -“_My_ pupil will parley-voo frangsay like a gay moonseer.” - -“You ridiculous boy!” - -“You cockaleekie girl!” - -Austin flung his arm round his brother’s shoulders and hugged them with -a will. - -“Don’t mind us, Jim,” he said. “We must lark a bit, and so must you. -We’ll be awful strict teachers, and give you a hundred lines every time -you miss a question. But you may wink one eye between whiles.” - -Austin’s mirth drowned Jim’s attempted thanks. But the younger boy -suddenly became sober, and thrusting his Euclid under Jim’s eyes, -entered on a careful explanation of certain well-known axioms necessary -to the comprehension of the First Proposition. Then Frances delivered a -lucid lecture on the Nominative Case. Finally, Jim carried off a couple -of lesson-books to his corner, and set to work to recall half-forgotten -rudiments learned long ago at elementary schools, and to assure himself -that he never would disgrace the pair of accomplished scholars he had -left at the round table. - -Elizabeth kept a divided opinion with regard to Mrs. Morland, but the -discords feared by Jim were not heard at Rowdon Cottage. The chief -reason for the comparative harmony which reigned between kitchen and -sitting-room was the undisguised satisfaction of Mrs. Macbean in being -again in contact with gentle-people, and in seeing her young master -recognized as one of them. It is to be feared that her estimation of -“gentlefolk” was strictly conventional, and that in her heart of hearts -she thought all the more of her “fine leddy” mistress because Mrs. -Morland never dreamed of soiling her fingers over household matters, -but maintained a dignified privacy among the remnants of her former -prosperity. - -Elizabeth found that a late dinner was expected as a matter of course. -Here, there might have been a difficulty, since the old woman had been -in the habit of going home to her “gudeman” as soon as she had served -Jim’s tea and “tidied up”. But while ordering dinner for half-past -eight, Mrs. Morland happened to mention that her stepson would dine -with her; and Elizabeth immediately became complaisant. - -Jim’s soul grew faint within him when he was informed of the coming -ordeal--a dinner _à deux_ with his stepmother. A refusal was on the -poor lad’s lips, but he held it back. He could do nothing, he supposed, -to narrow the gulf between himself and his father’s second wife; but -he had determined that no act or word of his should make the gulf -wider. He assented quietly to Mrs. Morland’s peremptory demand for his -company in the sitting-room at half-past eight, and promised meekly -enough to don his Sunday suit before he ventured to present himself. - -He imagined that his stepmother’s request was prompted solely by -a desire to “teach him manners”, and so render him a little more -presentable to her friends; but in this he did Mrs. Morland less than -justice. She was slow to act in matters for any reason displeasing to -her; but having once taken a step in any direction, she did not care -to turn back. She had been, in her own limited sense, in earnest when -she had said that she would henceforth regard Jim as the head of the -family. She meant him to endure to the full the penalties attaching at -present to the unenviable position, and would not strain a nerve to -lighten his load; but she intended also to see that a certain respect -and consideration should be offered him by everyone except herself, and -it was a part of her plan that he should be found in her company on -fitting occasions. - -The family meals were served in the children’s study, but at none of -these was the mother present. Her breakfast was carried up to her -bedroom, and she lunched alone in her sitting-room. It was Austin’s -duty to take her cup backward and forward across the passage at the -children’s tea-hour. After dinner Frances and Austin were ordered to -appear for dessert. Thus Mrs. Morland attempted to retain among her -present surroundings some of the customs and restrictions of the life -she had been used to; though the imitation might be a faint likeness -of the model, and the result pathetic rather than impressive. - -The various courses of the meal were perhaps only Scotch broth, broiled -chicken, and rice-pudding, and the dessert a dish of apples and another -of nuts. But the glass, china, and silver were the joy of Elizabeth’s -soul; and the simple food must be served most daintily. Jim was right -in anticipating severe drilling and remorseless fault-finding; yet, -taking all in wise humility, he had sense to acknowledge that the -experience had its value. He soon learned to satisfy Mrs. Morland’s -requirements as to his comportment at table, and his association with -her and her children taught him quickly to note the errors in his -speech and to correct them for himself. - -“The lad is no dullard,” admitted the victorious stepmother in -her thoughts; “he will be a gentleman before he knows it. A -gentleman-blacksmith! Delightful absurdity! Oh, shall we never escape -from this dreadful place!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -“MISSY.” - - -After Christmas the winter arrived in earnest--such a winter as -England seldom sees. Day after day keen “black” frost and bitter east -wind brought hard suffering to the poor. Jim banished Austin from the -smithy, and more than once the boy and his sister were prevented -from paying their visits to Woodbank, and were reduced to “hearing -each other” say their well-prepared lessons. Florry was not seen at -Rowdon for a week at a time. Max came, of course; but Max in greatcoat, -comforter, and gaiters could defy the weather. - -Not so Austin; yet Austin, rash as ever, would not stay indoors. Thus -Jim got into disgrace; he was condemned utterly as an aider and abettor -of his brother’s defiance of prudence. Jim it was who sharpened and -cleaned and polished Austin’s old skates, by way of helping the younger -lad to forget that he was to have had a new pair that year. Jim it was -who announced that Rowdon Pond was bearing. Jim it was who, having -reasonable fears of the results when Austin mooned listlessly about the -lanes, suggested the brisk exercise of skating as an excellent way of -keeping boyish blood in circulation. - -Frances always declared that it was running out without cap or -overcoat, and standing in draughts, and lingering for last words with -Max at the gate, which did it. But Mrs. Morland blamed Jim and the -pond; and Jim went for a fortnight with heavy pain at his heart and -fresh anxiety on his mind. For he accepted Mrs. Morland’s view: and -Austin was very ill. Austin had not had so bad a throat for a long -time. He suffered much, poor boy; and Jim, looking at him, suffered -more. Dr. Brenton came daily, and Doctor Max spent hours by the bedside. - -Jim was night-nurse, at his own humble, imploring request. In vain did -Frances remind her mother that the “head of the house” went to his -post after a long day’s work. Mrs. Morland’s face was stony as she -declined to accept any excuses for the culprit. Jim was the person at -fault, and it was obviously just that he should suffer for his sin. -Jim thankfully bore this sort of punishment, and tended Austin through -the night hours,--when pain and weakness made the boy restless and -irritable,--with infinite tenderness and patience. Francis begged to -be allowed to share the watch, but Mrs. Morland was inexorable. She -required her daughter’s help in the sick-room during the day, and -Frances must take her usual rest or she certainly would break down. - -Frances thought “breaking down” more likely to be Jim’s lot, as she -watched her elder brother’s face, with its haggard eyes, heavy from -ceaseless fatigue, and noted how worry and care were setting on his -brow their ineffaceable lines. Indeed, the extra burden of Austin’s -illness was leaving marks of its weight, and Jim’s slight figure bowed -beneath it. - -But the trial was over presently. Austin was better, he became -convalescent; he must be carried downstairs in Jim’s own arms, and be -coddled and spoiled in the warmest corner of the study. Jim thought no -self-denial too hard, no service too exacting; and Austin would hardly -have been mortal boy had he never taken advantage of his willing slave. - -When fear and trouble on Austin’s personal behalf were ended, a -dreadful sequel began. Bedroom fires night and day made inroads into -the coal-supply, and invalid luxuries ran up expensive bills. Mrs. -Morland’s demands had not been unreasonable with regard to her own -table; but when Austin’s nourishment was in question she ordered -lavishly, hardly requiring Jim’s entreaty that she would see that her -boy lacked nothing. During convalescence the lad’s appetite was tempted -with difficulty, and Jim’s only fear was lest the port-wine should not -be strong or plentiful enough. Afterwards, however, the wine must be -paid for. - -Jim took to sitting up late in his corner under the roof,--how late -nobody guessed; for Austin, in his well-warmed bedroom, was always fast -asleep when his brother stole in. But the hard winter told on trade, -and Jim knew nothing of the best markets for his wood-carving. He was -glad to sell his dainty work for a trifle to a little hook-nosed Jew -who kept a small “curiosity-shop” in Exham. - -Jim reminded himself that he was now a man, and that a man worth -his salt ought to be able to maintain his family--especially his -“lady-folk”--in comfort. He could not bring himself to suggest further -“stinting” to Elizabeth. The lad seemed possessed with a feverish -activity. He went to the farmers round about, and found all sorts of -odd pieces of work with which to fill up every minute not required by -his special trade. Anything to earn a few shillings, and to delay that -borrowing from capital and lessening of interest which must surely some -day bring ruin on the little home where he sheltered his cherished -kindred. - -Jim hid his troubles with desperate courage, but there was somebody -who was not entirely deceived. Frances had not forgotten that first -interview between Jim and his stepmother on the latter’s coming to -Rowdon, and her clear sense had taught her to suspect that the finances -of the cottage were giving her elder brother some reason for his -harassed look. The girl longed to ease his burden, but she did not -know how to invite his confidence. The constraint between them had not -lessened sufficiently to allow Frances the opportunity of penetrating -his carefully-concealed secret. - -At last chance played poor Jim a trick, and he stood revealed. - -“Austin,” said Frances one evening, looking up from her books, “do you -know where Jim is? It’s so frightfully cold to-night--surely he can’t -be in the smithy still?” - -“I hope not. I wish I could go to see.” - -“You mustn’t, indeed. The wind cuts like a lash, and the place where -Jim works is right open to it.” - -“Well, it’s hard lines for a fellow to be mewed up here. Frances, it’s -Saturday. Jim is always late on Saturdays.” - -“He’s late every night now, I think. He just gives himself time to -dress for dinner; and after dinner he spends half an hour studying -with us, then he vanishes upstairs. And he hardly eats anything; he’s -getting quite thin.” There was a hint of tears in the girl’s voice, -though she did not add aloud her conviction--“I believe he goes -without, to leave more for us.” - -“We must look after him better,” said Austin uneasily. “He’s such a -right-down good chap, he never thinks of himself.” - -“No, never. I’ll go and look after him now, Austin. I’ll make him come -to the warm room.” - -Frances wrapped herself in a woollen shawl, borrowed Austin’s -“Tam-o’-Shanter”, and went out softly at the front door. Down the -side-path, over a thick carpet of snow, she crept stealthily into view -of the smithy. The fires were out: clearly Jim had left his forge. -She kept the pathway, and skirted the larger building to reach the -closed-in shed behind it, where stood the carpenter’s bench. Here Jim -often worked after regular hours, and here she found him to-night. - -The girl peeped in through the small window, and at once saw her -brother, seated on a rough stool by a rough trestle-table. A few books -and papers were spread before him, but he was not examining them, -though Frances could see that they were account-books and bills. Jim’s -arms rested on the table, his hands supported his upturned face, which, -in the light of his little lamp, looked rigid in its blank misery. - -For a moment Frances was startled; then the sight of the papers, and -the recollection of many things, brought home to her the truth of her -recent suspicions. Now, if ever, was the time to speak. If Jim were -vexed by her interference, he still might be persuaded to explain his -position; and then surely it would be her right to try to help him. - -Frances opened the shed door softly, and closed it behind her when she -had passed in. The place was bitterly cold. Jim’s face looked pinched -and wan as he turned and gazed at her in dumb surprise. His hands, -moving mechanically, swept the bills together with an instinctive -effort to hide them; but Frances, walking straight to his side, pointed -deliberately to the little heap of crushed papers. - -“Jim, I’ve caught you at last!” - -“Missy!” ejaculated Jim, and gazing still at the determined intruder he -stumbled on to his feet. - -“Yes, I’ve caught you, so you needn’t attempt to get off telling the -truth!” The girl feared that the laboured jocularity of her tone wasn’t -much of a success, and continued with a natural quiver in her voice: -“Oh, Jim, you mustn’t think I’m quite blind, or that I don’t care. I’ve -seen for a long time back how worried you have been, and I’ve guessed -that something must have gone wrong.” - -“I’m sorry, Missy,” said Jim, in a low voice. “I suppose I’m a coward, -or I shouldn’t show so plainly when I’ve a little difficulty to meet. -But I didn’t know that anyone--that you would notice.” The lad’s eyes -grew very soft. “You must please forgive me, Missy.” - -“Oh, Jim,” exclaimed Frances, perplexed by this disarming entreaty, “I -wish you wouldn’t talk like that! Do--do tell me what’s wrong!” - -“It’s not anything for you to know, Missy. Indeed, it’s just my own -affair--I’d not trouble you with it. Don’t mind me if I seem a bit -downhearted now and again. I’m just a rough fellow, and forget my duty -sometimes, like as not.” - -“No, Jim, you remember it far too well. You make all the horrid things -your duty, and won’t understand that Austin and I want to go shares. -And I will know. So now, Jim, tell me.” - -Frances persisted with argument and entreaty until she had drawn her -brother’s secret from his lips. Having learned the facts, she set to -work energetically to propose a remedy. - -“We must not spend so much, Jim,” she remarked, knitting her brows -seriously. She now occupied the stool, Jim standing by her side with -all the air of a conscious defaulter. “It will never do to keep on -drawing from your capital. I understand about ‘capital and interest’ -quite well--really I do. I know that if capital grows less, so will -the interest. We don’t want our interest less, so we mustn’t touch our -capital.” (Jim’s eyes brightened as he heard the plural possessive.) -“Now,” Frances went on, “listen to me, and don’t interrupt, and don’t -contradict. I sha’n’t allow you to contradict! We can do without -Elizabeth, and we must.” - -“Why, Missy--” - -“Be quiet, Jim! I like Elizabeth ever so much; but she costs a good -deal, and we won’t keep her. She will easily get another place; for -I’ll tell Miss Carlyon about her, and what an old dear she is.” Jim -smiled forlornly at the epithet applied to angular Mrs. Macbean. “You -see, it’s wicked to employ people you can’t afford to pay; and I’m sure -we can’t afford to pay Elizabeth.” - -Jim clenched his hands behind his back. They were strong, capable -hands; why, oh why, could he not fill them with gold for Missy! - -“We can do quite well without her,” persisted Frances, her courage -rising bravely to the emergency. Jim watched the kindling of the -girl’s intelligent face, and wondered whether he had known before that -gentle-voiced Missy possessed so plucky a spirit. “She--or someone -else--might come, perhaps, once a week: to wash, you know, Jim, and to -clean the kitchen. I shall do the rest.” - -“You!” gasped Jim. - -“Of course. I can cook and sweep and dust--yes, and I’ll learn to -scrub. Why not?” - -“No, Missy. Oh, don’t put that shame on me!” muttered Jim, in an agony -of mental distress. “’Tis no work for little ladies: and a man ought to -bear the burdens by himself. I’ll get more to do--indeed I will! You -sha’n’t need to worry, if only you’ll not say Elizabeth must go.” - -“But I do say it, Jim,” said Frances solemnly; “I wish I could send you -to Haversfield, and let Miss Cliveden talk to you. She’d show you what -a goose you were to think ladies--no, gentlewomen--are disgraced by -work. Why, loads of splendid, clever women earn their own living; and -I’ve always thought I’d love to earn mine. Look at Miss Carlyon--she -isn’t ashamed to work for herself, and not be a burden to her brother.” - -“But her work’s so different, Missy,” pleaded Jim. - -“As if that mattered! Still, if you think it does, and won’t let me -help here, I’ll try another plan. I’m fifteen now, and I dare say I -might teach little children. Mrs. Stanley wants a nursery governess, -Max says. I shall beg her to take me.” - -“Missy!” Jim’s tone was now one of the blankest, most thorough dismay. -“Go away from home--leave Rowdon” murmured the lad incredulously. “Why, -’twould take all the light from the place. You’d never--Missy!--you’d -never do it?” - -“I’ll have to, if you won’t be reasonable,” said Frances severely. “Of -course I’d rather stay here, and teach just you, and look after Austin, -and take care of Mamma. But if you won’t let me--” - -“Missy,” said Jim nervously, “you know you’re mistress at Rowdon. I -won’t say--anything. But oh, don’t go away!” - -Frances discreetly followed up her advantage, and made her brother -promise to dismiss Elizabeth with the usual notice. It was to be done -in the kindest, most appreciative way; and Mrs. Macbean was to be asked -if she would care to have another situation found for her, or if she -would take daily work, and keep Saturdays for the cottage. - -Then Jim was requested to put away the tiresome bills, and go indoors -and get his lessons ready at once. - -It was his first experience of his sister as “mistress”. Never before -had she assumed the voice of the dictator, never before had she ordered -him about. Jim felt that he liked it. - - * * * * * - -And now little Frances the Altruist was indeed a woman of affairs. -Jim kept his word, and after the reluctant departure of Elizabeth -attempted no remonstrance; he tried faithfully to control his feelings -when he saw his sister cook and sweep and dust. Only, if she rose -early, he rose earlier; and she never came down to find a fireless, -uncared-for grate. Her cans were filled with water, her scuttles with -coal, before her light step could be heard on the stairs. - -After due thought, Frances had decided that Austin should share Jim’s -secret. - -“It won’t do him any harm to know all Jim has tried to do for us,” she -reflected wisely; “and I think, somehow, it will help him to be manly -and brave himself.” - -So Austin was told, and received the news with preternatural gravity. - -“All right, Sis! Jim can keep his hair on; he sha’n’t be ruined yet -awhile, if we know it. Peace to the shades of the departed Elizabeth! -You’ll boss the show, and I’ll be second in command.” - -Mrs. Morland, also, received a communication from Frances. Jim was -forthwith sent for--being suspected of having a weaker will than -the one she had just encountered,--and obliged to listen to keen -upbraiding, even to merciless taunts. Jim, pale and suffering, could -reply only that Mrs. Morland’s opinions were humbly acknowledged as his -own; and that if Missy could be induced to abandon her scheme, he would -thankfully support motherly authority. - -But Frances the Altruist took her own way. - -The young people of Rowdon Cottage formed themselves into a sort -of household league, and speedily discovered the benefits of -co-operation. Jim toiled early and late; but his trouble shared was -trouble lightened by at least one appreciable fact--the absence of -need for further concealment. His distress of mind at the sight of his -fellow-toilers grew no less, in spite of arguments drawn unconsciously -from the propaganda of enlightened social economists; but his love for -those two children who thus bravely tried to help him grew greater, and -taught him more, day by day. - -Frances had found her contentment, and was “happy again”. Her loyal -friend Florry might now have roamed the Continent, if this desired -consummation had indeed sufficed to send her there. But happy, busy -Frances was more than ever a companion to be sought by a girl who never -had been otherwise than happy and busy. Florry “begged lifts” from Dr. -Brenton oftener than ever, and enjoyed her part in the cookery and -housework quite as much as she enjoyed the talks about books and the -comparisons of lessons which came in between, when folks wanted a rest. - -Austin was positively refused regular employment as maid-of-all-work, -so he kept on the look-out and seized his chances. At night he would -prowl about in search of the family boots, and would hide them in a -secret nook, so that in the morning he might try his hand at a new and -original system of “blacking”. He would creep through the house, gather -up the mats in a swoop, and depart, chuckling, to do mighty execution -in the back-yard. Max, if on the spot, of course assisted like a man -and a brother. Frances only had to hint that any special cleansing -process was under consideration, and three young Altruists got ready -for the fray. - - * * * * * - -“Hi, old man! How’s that for a carpet?” - -Jim, anxious-eyed but smiling, professed profound admiration, and -disappeared within his shed. - -It was an April afternoon. Max and Austin, armed with flat sticks, -stood on either side of a well-stretched rope, whereon hung the -study carpet. The Altruists were spring-cleaning, and Rowdon Cottage -resounded with their songs of triumph. Jim had timidly suggested -Elizabeth as a helper, but the idea had been rejected with scorn. - -Kind Mrs. Fane had taken a hint from Florry, and had carried off Mrs. -Morland to spend a week with her--“while the children amused themselves -turning everything upside down”. Florry went to Rowdon to keep Frances -company, by way of exchange of guests; and other Altruists dropped in -promiscuously to “lend a hand”. It was the Easter holidays, so persons -of leisure were free to make themselves useful. - -Max and Austin stood wiping their fevered brows and admiring their -work. They were on the drying-green, which widened out into an orchard -that was the pride of Rowdon Cottage. Presently to the green entered a -little procession. - -Firstly, Guy Gordon, bearing a pile of footstools, and thumping the top -one energetically as he marched to a whistled war-song. Next, Florry, -carrying cushions many and various. Then, Frances, with an armful of -curtains. Next, the small and rosy-cheeked boy--brother to Guy--who -long ago had inquired of Frances, “What is an Altruist?” Bertie bore -nothing except himself, and found the task sufficient, for indeed he -was plumper than Betty Turner. Last of all came Betty herself, with -a basket of stockings and socks. Betty had volunteered to bring the -cottage darning and mending up to date as her contribution to the -proceedings. One can sit very comfortably on a bank under a tree while -one darns the family hose. - -Then arose a very Babel. The various persons of the procession betook -themselves to convenient spots in the orchard, and set about their -business. Guy deposited his footstools on the grass, and thrusting a -stick into the hand of small Bertie, left him with the laconic order: - -“See there isn’t a grain of dust in them when I get back!” - -Then off flew Guy to the carpet-beating, which was more inspiriting -than footstools. The flat sticks started afresh to the tune of “Three -Jolly Sailor Boys”, roared in lusty trebles. Frances, with Florry’s -aid, shook her curtains, Betty seated herself picturesquely out of -reach of the dust, Bertie banged away to his heart’s content, and the -orchard echoed the drying-green in a rousing chorus. Round about, -the fruit-trees, in all their loveliness of pink and white, averted -the dazzling April sunshine. Betty, among the violets and primroses, -examined heels and toes with critical attention, while her voice joined -involuntarily in the “Sailor Boys”. - -“Isn’t it jolly?” demanded Max, during a pause for breath. “Here’s an -Altruist entertainment given gratis and for nothing to the ducks and -chickens! Now, then, girls, it’s your turn to lead off. Let’s have -something sweet!” - -Frances started Mendelssohn’s “Farewell to the Forest”, and Miss -Carlyon’s “Selected Choir” gave three parts in melodious first and -second treble and alto. Jim brought his work to the door of his shed -and listened happily. The sound of the young voices, ringing through -the clear spring air, came to his ears as a reminder of his changed -conditions, which had in them much of trouble, yet more of joy. - -Back and forward between cottage and orchard went the merry troop -through the long afternoon. A very respectable amount of work had been -got through when, at half-past five, Frances called a halt for tea. - -By common consent the pleasant meal was taken out of doors, under the -apple-boughs. The girls went into the house, cut bread-and-butter, -and piled plates with scones and cakes, while the boys spread the -cloth and fetched and carried. All the visiting Altruists had brought -contributions to the feast, but Elizabeth’s scones, left at the door -with Mrs. Macbean’s respectful duty, were in chief demand. - -“Good old Elizabeth!” chuckled Austin. “She’s a first-rater. She bakes -scones once a week, and never forgets ‘Mr. Jim’. I say, Mr. Jim, here’s -a second supply, well-buttered. Finished? What rot! Pull him down, Max, -and send up his cup!” - -“I made this cake myself, Jim,” whispered Florry. “It’s ever so -sweet--and all boys like sweet things.” - -Jim, always grateful for Florry’s simple friendliness, found he could -eat the cake nicely. He was next supplied with an egg, which Guy’s hen -had been obliging enough to lay, and Betty to boil, on purpose for him. -Frances would be hurt if he did not do justice to her home-made brown -bread. Altogether, the youngsters took care that Jim’s tea was a hearty -one. The lad had dropped, some time ago, the idea that these girls -and boys might despise the blacksmith-brother. He knew, without any -sentimental demonstrativeness on their part, that they all accounted -him “a brick”, and he tried earnestly to deserve the flattering -compliment. He did not know how industriously Frances and Austin sang -his praises, and with what honest pride they spoke of the hard and -self-denying toil which set so high an example that they could not but -be up and struggling to follow it. - -Tea over, work began again, and lasted till the shadows lengthening -“from each westward thing” brought the Altruists’ busy day to a close. -The visitors straggled homeward, with Frances, Florry, and Austin -travelling as far as the Common to speed them on their way. They were -very tired, and very jolly, and very well pleased with themselves. Who -could say that spring-cleaning had not its aspects picturesque and -poetic? Who could deny these virtuous labourers the right to rouse the -echoes with a song of parting, and with yet another to the next good -meeting? - -Austin ran all the way home that he might coax Jim out for a peaceful -stroll. Frances and Florry, left together, exchanged confidences and -opinions after their manner. At length, among desultory talk, Florry -suddenly opened a brisk campaign. - -“Frances, do you remember saying, when you first went to Rowdon, that -you couldn’t come back to our Society--your Society--till you were -gooder?” - -Frances assented doubtfully. - -“Well, you’re just as much gooder as any mortal girl wants to be.” - -Frances kept expressive silence. - -“If you were any gooder than you are now, I should be certain you were -falling into a decline. Anyway, you’re an Altruist of Altruists, if our -motto counts for anything, for I’m sure you ‘help others’ all day long. -We’ve a meeting to-morrow evening. I am going over to it, and I mean to -take you with me, and Austin too. It’s a mixed meeting--girls and boys; -and afterwards we’ve a choir practice.” - -Frances’s eyes kindled as she heard of these remembered joys. She was -by no means unhealthily self-introspective by nature; and since she -had repented her unworthy treatment of Jim, and done her best to make -amends, the load of sensitive shame and humiliation had seemed to -fall from her heart. Need she longer hold aloof from the comrades to -whom she had once ventured to speak--parrot-like, as it now appeared -to her awakened sense, and ignorant of real issues--such brave words -of fellowship and admiration towards all those who did worthily the -world’s exacting work? Might she not again take her place among them, -better instructed and less ready to instruct? - -Florry found that persuasion was not needed. Frances was too sincere -to profess a belief in difficulties which time had swept away. She -replied, very truthfully and willingly, that she longed to refill the -Altruist work-basket. - -“I could give odd half-hours to it, you know, Florry. The mornings are -so light now, I could easily rise a little earlier.” - -“Mamma says it is always the busy people who do the most. Oh, dear -Frances, I am so glad! You will see, to-morrow, how badly you have been -missed.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -MRS. MORLAND’S TRIO. - - -Mrs. Morland, in a sober evening dress of black silk, inhabited her -sitting-room in solitary state. The nest her children’s love had -prepared for her was fresh and sweet as an Altruist spring-cleaning -could make it; and its occupant, surrounded by pretty and dainty -things, looked in no want of pity as she sat by her cosy fireside, -a volume of Tennyson in her hands. Yet on this particular evening -the leisurely reader seemed not entirely at ease. Her eyes wandered -continually from her book, and the expression of her face had for once -lost its satisfaction with self and impatience with the rest of the -world. In thought as in act Mrs. Morland was slow to admit novelty; -but a simple occurrence of the afternoon had touched her imagination, -and inclined her to observe intelligently various matters which helped -to make the small sum of her daily experience. - -A little earlier she had been entertaining visitors--only Muriel and -Edward Carlyon. But those young people possessed alert and vigorous -individualities which were apt to leave a track where they had been. -They talked well on a good many subjects, and had the pleasant knack of -choosing those subjects with due regard to their company. Mrs. Morland -liked them both, and was by no means insensible to the kindness which -had made Frances and Austin their pupils still. So she had listened -graciously, and spoken a few appropriate words of thanks when the -brother and sister had warmly commended her children’s progress. - -“How proud you must be of them!” Miss Carlyon had exclaimed, determined -to do her favourites justice. “Do you know, I think no one ever had a -brighter trio than yours.” - -Mrs. Morland stiffened perceptibly as she heard the word “trio”. - -“My two children always have given me every satisfaction,” she replied -with emphasis. - -“Never more than now, I am sure,” said Muriel gently. - -“Jim is a first-rate fellow,” remarked Edward. “Boyish for his years, -perhaps, and overpoweringly conscientious. But I believe, when he goes -out into the world, he will make his mark.” - -“He is a worthy, unassuming lad,” said Mrs. Morland indifferently. “I -should hardly have credited him with more than an average share of -brains. Of course, I readily admit that he has had no advantages.” - -Edward gaily contested the point, arguing that in learning to use his -hands as well as his head, Jim had provided himself with two forces -instead of one to aid him in doing battle with difficulties. Mrs. -Morland declined to show interest in Jim, but she listened courteously -to her stepson’s praises, and left her combatant in possession of the -field. - -The two visitors were disarmed, and began to think they might hitherto -have done their hostess injustice on some points at least. They had -walked out of set purpose to Rowdon that afternoon, after stirring up -each other, as their habit was, to undertake a doubtful errand. They -were wondering now whether they might not hope--with the mother in this -gracious mood--to make that errand something of a success. - -“And how is Frances, our own dear Altruist?” questioned Muriel -presently. “I thought yesterday that she was looking pale and tired.” - -“Indeed! I have not heard her complain. She has excellent health, -fortunately, and is altogether stronger than Austin.” - -“Oh, Austin will make a sturdy fellow by and by,” said Carlyon cheerily. - -“Meanwhile,” said Muriel tentatively, “I hope our pair of pickles -aren’t overdoing it? You will forgive me, Mrs. Morland, I’m sure, if -I intrude on you with selfish anxieties. You see, Edward and I can’t -contemplate with equanimity the loss of our pupils, and Frances -has been telling me that she is afraid she must give up some of her -studies.” - -Mrs. Morland flushed angrily. “She has said nothing of the kind to me.” - -“She would not wish to worry you,” added Muriel in haste; “and she did -not speak definitely--only, I understood it was a question between home -duties and school lessons. As Frances has passed the Oxford Junior -Locals, I wanted her to get ready for the Senior; but if she has not -time for the necessary preparation, there is no more to be said.” - -“I had a scholarship in view for Austin,” said Carlyon, before Mrs. -Morland could speak. The brother and sister felt themselves on thorny -ground, and feared a retreat might be forced on them. “It would help to -take him to the University. Still, he is right to stick to his sister.” - -“You mustn’t let our foolish ambitions vex you, dear Mrs. Morland,” -said Muriel, rising to lay her hand with a pretty gesture on the elder -woman’s arm. “If our young people choose the better part, we can only -love them all the more, and be all the more proud of them. They will -learn a great deal in helping Jim. Do you know, I am quite jealous of -Frances’s success as a rival teacher? Now, Edward, you and I must run -away. We are due at the rectory at six o’clock.” - -The visitors said good-bye to a very stately, monosyllabic hostess, -whose geniality had vanished, and left moroseness behind. At first Mrs. -Morland was strongly moved to summon Frances for a severe lecture, -but she felt herself handicapped by her ignorance as to the truth. -She had no real knowledge of the manner in which her children spent -their days; and had objected to the work they had undertaken, in -Elizabeth’s place, on account of its nature, not because she realized -its amount. But if it were indeed the case that sweeping and scrubbing -had absorbed the hours due to Latin and mathematics, in what direction -could she exercise her authority? Somebody must sweep and scrub, if -the spotlessness on which Mrs. Morland tacitly insisted were to be -maintained at Rowdon Cottage. - -For a time, indignation with her “trio” and their too officious -friends occupied Mrs. Morland’s thoughts entirely; but compunctions -were stirring her memory, and she began to recall more exactly, and to -examine more thoroughly, the few remarks her late visitors had made. -She wondered whether she had indeed left it to an outsider to notice -that Frances looked “pale and tired”, and why her girl and boy should -not have come first of all to their mother with their doubts as to -their ability to keep up their lessons. Mrs. Morland had seen plainly -that the Carlyons had spoken with some trepidation and fear of giving -offence. She felt obliged to admit that they had not willingly broken -the laws of good taste, but had made an honest effort to serve their -young friends by letting fall such hints as might induce the children’s -mother to give more attention to their affairs. - -Mrs. Morland’s thoughts were still dwelling on these matters, when the -door opened softly and Frances entered, carrying a snowy table-cloth -of finest damask, such as it was Elizabeth’s pride to handle. Next -came Austin, with a folding-stand and butler’s tray, which he set up -close to the door. Mrs. Morland was seated so that she could face her -children, and she watched them furtively from the cover of her fan. The -young pair were so unaccustomed to attract their mother’s notice while -about their daily duties that they behaved as though she were as deep -in Tennyson as they supposed her to be. - -Frances deftly spread the cloth, while Austin fussed gravely over his -tray. Presently they began to lay the covers for two, and to deck the -table with pretty crystal and silver. There were no “specimen” vases, -but they had a big bowl filled with white narcissus and ivy for a -centre-piece. - -“Is Jim ready?” questioned Frances in a low voice. “I have no soup -to-day, but Mr. Carlyon brought a lovely pair of soles, and I have -fried them most beautifully. Mamma likes fried soles. Jim is so -thoughtful, he is sure to remember to say he won’t have any; then there -will be one left for Mamma’s breakfast.” - -“Good!” said Austin laconically. “Isn’t there anything for Jim?” - -“Silly! Of course there is! I made rissoles out of that cold beef.” - -Austin sighed. - -“I have kept one back for you, dear,” said Frances quickly. “I know you -hate cold beef. You shall eat that delicious rissole while I dish the -pudding.” - -The two now wrangled in undertones as to which should enjoy the -comparative dainty of a rissole, and Mrs. Morland laughed behind her -fan until she feared detection. Finally, Austin decided that the morsel -should be halved, and the preparations then proceeded in uninterrupted -solemnity. - -“Is Jim ready?” inquired Frances again. “My soles will be spoilt if -dinner is kept waiting.” - -“Oh, Jim’s all right. He’s turning out the potatoes.” - -“Austin! Last time Jim meddled with the potatoes he let one drop into -the ashes--and he nearly spoiled his best coat!” - -“Well, if he’s such a duffer he must go without, himself.” - -“I shall fly to the rescue. Oh, Austin, you promised to mix the fresh -mustard!” - -“Crikey! So I did! I’ll do it now, in half a jiffey.” - -“Come then; it’s half-past eight already!” - -Frances retired in haste to the kitchen, packed Jim off to the -sitting-room, and served up her three courses in fine style. Mrs. -Morland, intent on observations, dined almost in silence; and Jim, -amazed to find neither his mind nor his manners undergoing improvement, -wondered nervously of what heinous offence he had been guilty unawares. -Austin brought in the dishes, and waited at table with the utmost -confidence and resource. It was his little joke to call himself -Adolphus the page-boy, in which character he indulged in various small -witticisms, chiefly, it must be owned, for the benefit of Frances. -When he had placed a scanty dessert before his mother, he went off, to -reappear immediately in Frances’s wake in his own character of Master -Austin Morland. - -He wore an evening suit of black velvet, which, having been made -eighteen months before, was an exceedingly tight fit for its owner. -Mrs. Morland now became aware of the fact, and felt a sudden qualm as -she anticipated the time when the children’s stock of good, well-made -clothing would be finally worn out or outgrown. She determined to put -off, for that evening at least, her intended demand for the immediate -re-engagement of Elizabeth, and the release of Frances from “household -drudgery”. She would hardly have acknowledged that a part of that -forbearing resolution was due to the awakened eyes with which she now -regarded the third of her “trio”. Jim’s face was pale and tired beyond -all possibility of concealment. - -The meal was ended. Mrs. Morland returned to her Tennyson, and the trio -returned to their various tasks. For more than an hour the solitary -woman sat on by her fireside deep in thought. Glancing up, at length, -she saw that her clock pointed to a quarter-past ten, and it occurred -to her that the children had not yet come to bid her good-night. Rising -with a little shiver, for the room was growing chilly, she crossed the -passage to the study, and, opening the door gently, peered in. The -three students were gathered together, to share the light of the single -small lamp. Frances was correcting an exercise for Jim, who listened -intently while she lucidly explained his mistakes. Austin struggled -with Greek verbs, repeating them under his breath, while he held his -hands to his ears, and rocked his body to and fro, after the familiar -fashion of industrious schoolboys. - -Consternation took the place of contentment when Mrs. Morland made the -young folks aware of her presence by inquiring whether they knew the -hour. - -“It is a quarter-past ten,” she remarked, her voice falling on a guilty -silence. “You know, Frances and Austin, I do not like you to be up -later than ten.” - -“We have nearly finished, Mamma. We go to Woodbank to-morrow, and we -shall not have our lessons ready unless we do them to-night.” - -“Why not, pray? Are there no morning hours before you? And what is -this I hear from Miss Carlyon, Frances? Have you really taken it -upon yourself to tell her, without first consulting me, that you are -prepared to dispense with her kind help?” - -“Oh, Mamma,” exclaimed Frances, “Miss Carlyon could not have thought--. -Indeed, I didn’t say it that way!” - -“Perhaps not,” said Mrs. Morland, half-ashamed of her injustice; “but -you said it in some way, and I am very much annoyed. A child like you -has no business to decide for herself whether she will or will not -accept so great a favour.” - -“I only didn’t want to worry you, Mamma; and I didn’t think--I didn’t -guess you would mind about my lessons.” - -“I dare say your intentions were good, Frances,” said Mrs. Morland less -sharply; “but you certainly should have come to me first. You cannot -really have been so foolish as to suppose that I am indifferent about -your studies. They may be of the utmost importance to you some day.” - -“I know,” said Frances eagerly. “So, won’t you let me sit up a little -later sometimes?” - -“I can’t do that, for the best of reasons. You rise--as I know to my -cost--very early; and I must insist on your taking proper rest. But I -see no obstacle to your finding plenty of opportunity for study in the -daytime. What is it that comes in the way?” - -Frances glanced up at Jim, and meeting his troubled look answered -pleadingly: - -“I’ll tell you all about it when you come upstairs to-night, Mamma -dear. Won’t that do?” - -“Very well,” replied Mrs. Morland, feeling a new and strange reluctance -to prolong the discomfort she had brought to the industrious little -group. Memory again spoke in her ears with Miss Carlyon’s voice the -familiar words about choosing the better part. She went back to her -room, stirred the smouldering fire, and sank into her luxurious chair. -Something--could it be conscience?--was stirring fiercely within her; -and qualities long dormant rose up and cried her shame. - -She had been alone but a few minutes when Jim came into the room. The -lad, still white and weary-eyed, moved with his quiet, undisturbing -step to Mrs. Morland’s side. - -“I wanted to tell you something,” he began diffidently; “something -perhaps you don’t know. It is that, for a good while back, the -children have been helping me--teaching me, I mean, besides learning -their own lessons. I wanted so much to learn, that I’m afraid I forgot -how I was taking up their time; but indeed I never guessed that Missy -was going to leave off any of her lessons with Miss Carlyon. Of course -I will manage so that she need not. I hope you won’t worry, or be vexed -with Missy. It’s all my fault.” - -“And how do you propose to ‘manage’, as you say?” - -Mrs. Morland’s keen gaze fell steadily on her stepson’s face. - -“I will not let Missy be troubled with me,” said Jim. “That will make -some difference.” - -“But you want to learn?” - -“Ay. I will learn, too, somehow, but not at the children’s cost. I can -do a smith’s work without Latin; but my brother and sister are to be -something different.” - -“You are resolved on that?” - -“Ay.” - -“And if they do not teach you, they will have time for their own -studies?” - -“I cannot tell that; but I can easily get up an hour earlier and help -more in the house.” - -“When do you rise now, James?” - -“Not till five,” replied Jim eagerly. “It would be nothing to rise at -four.” - -“But if my ears haven’t deceived me, I’ve heard stealthy steps going to -your bedroom at one, and even two, in the morning.” - -Jim stood detected and confused. - -“Well,” said Mrs. Morland calmly, “I’ll think over matters and let -you know if I agree to your ingenious plan. Meanwhile, James, I would -rather you went to bed a little earlier and rose a little later. And -I object to your giving up your lessons with the children. I have no -doubt that in helping you they help themselves; but in any case I wish -you to go on remembering that if you are a blacksmith you are also a -gentleman.” - -Mrs. Morland enjoyed the knowledge that her stepson was utterly -astonished and subdued; and she went on in the same level tone: - -“I never was more convinced of the latter fact than I am this evening. -Now, good-night, James! Go to bed, and get rid of that headache.” - - * * * * * - -During the whole of the following couple of days Mrs. Morland displayed -an unwonted activity, though in a direction her children found terribly -discomfiting. On this or that pretext she contrived to maintain a -careful watch on everybody’s movements, and some of the youngsters’ -most cherished and harmless secrets were dragged to light. Thus, -Frances was surprised by her mother in the act of “washing out” certain -dainty frills which it always had been supposed were left to Mrs. -Macbean’s tender mercies. Austin was discovered peeling potatoes in the -study, whither he had been banished for fear of draughts, while Jim -cleaned the kitchen windows. And Jim’s feelings may be imagined when -his workshop was invaded by the stately presence of his stepmother, -who had donned a shawl and wandered through the darkness merely to -inquire if he happened to know whether a quarter to ten were the -correct time. - -Mrs. Morland’s inspection was thorough enough to supply her with a -basis of facts whereon to build further meditations and resolutions. -Perhaps the latter were confirmed by a conversation she overheard -through a door left ajar accidentally: - -“I say, Frances, isn’t the Mater getting awfully spry? She has been -going about no end the last two days.” - -“Yes. She seems ever so much better and stronger, doesn’t she? Wouldn’t -it be jolly if she would come for a walk with us sometimes, and go -visiting a little, as she used to? She wouldn’t always be so dull if -she had more change.” - -“She came and watched me feed my chickens this morning. Fancy! she said -she had no idea I had gone in for poultry rearing! I believe I must -have forgotten to tell her about it. I showed her my ducklings, too, -and promised her one for dinner soon.” - -“Mamma asked me where I had learned to make such nice puddings. -Wasn’t it dear of her to notice? I shall turn out lovely pancakes -to-night--she likes pancakes.” - -“Anybody would like your pancakes. May I have the little burnt one at -the end?” - -“You unkind boy, it isn’t always burnt! Perhaps I’ll give you a whole -proper one for a treat, as you provide the eggs.” - -On the third day after the Carlyons’ visit, Mrs. Morland once more -surprised the little housewife and her male servitors. They were at -breakfast in the kitchen; for Frances, to save coal, had decreed that -the study fire should not be lighted in the early morning. - -“Is this an innovation, young people?” demanded the newcomer amiably. -“Thank you, James; I will take Austin’s chair, and he can fetch -another. Really”--and Mrs. Morland glanced critically round the bright, -clean kitchen--“you look remarkably comfortable here. Your copper pans -do you credit, Frances.” - -“Jim scoured the pans, Mamma dear,” said the girl, recovering from the -shock of discovery. “And I do think they’re pretty. Mayn’t I give you -some tea? Oh no! not this, of course--I’ll make some fresh.” - -“Nonsense! I’m sure you can spare me a cup of yours. That tea-pot has -immense capacity, and if these lads haven’t drained it--” - -“Why, there’s lots,” said Austin, lifting the lid of the big brown -pot. “Only, you see, Mater, it’s--it’s a little nurseryfied. Frances -doesn’t approve of strong tea for our youthful digestions. I’ve plenty -of boiling water in my kettle, and you shall have a special brew.” - -Jim had risen quietly and placed a small clothes-horse, over which he -had thrown a cloth, between Mrs. Morland and the fire. Meanwhile his -stepmother, with a swift glance that escaped detection, had surveyed -the young people’s fare. A home-baked loaf, a plate of scones, butter, -and marmalade. For Austin alone, a boiled egg. All set out with -exquisite cleanliness, and appetizing enough in itself, but hardly -sufficient preparation for a long and hard day’s work. - -“Frances has found some dainty for my breakfast-tray each morning,” -reflected Mrs. Morland, and at that moment Frances spoke. - -“Your kidneys are still in the larder, Mamma. Would you like them -cooked sooner than usual since you are down so early?” - -“They will do nicely for dinner,” said Mrs. Morland. “I am going to -breakfast with you, and cannot possibly resist those scones any longer.” - -The amazed silence of the group may not have been entirely -complimentary, but Mrs. Morland seemed unconcerned, and forced speech -on “James” by inquiring whether he were responsible for the shining -dish-covers as well as the copper pans. The freshly-made tea was -praised generously; and altogether Mrs. Morland showed a welcome -disposition to admire everything. - -Breakfast over, the workers of the family prepared to set about their -usual duties. Jim went off to the forge, Austin departed to feed his -chickens, Frances began to clear the breakfast-table. - -“I have been thinking,” said Mrs. Morland, while she helped to gather -together cups and plates, “that for the future Jim and I will dine with -you children in the middle of the day.” - -“Mamma!” exclaimed Frances, standing statue-like in her amazement. - -“It would be at least an hour’s saving of your time--oh! more than -that. However simple your cookery, it must require a good deal of -attention; then, there is the serving, and after all the washing of -dishes and pans. Why, child, we have hit in a moment on the solution of -your difficulty.” - -“You never have been used to an early dinner,” said Frances in a -troubled voice; “you would hate it.” - -“It could not really make the slightest difference to me now,” declared -the mother. “When I visited and received visitors, things naturally -were arranged according to custom.” - -“But, Mamma,” said Frances wistfully, “why should you not visit again? -The people worth knowing wouldn’t like us a bit the less because we -live in a cottage instead of at Elveley. It is not as though we had -done anything wrong. All your favourite friends have called since you -have been here--” - -“Called!” interrupted Mrs. Morland vehemently “yes--to pry into my -affairs and gossip over my changed circumstances. Ah! Frances, you -don’t know the world yet, thank Heaven; you look on it still with a -girl’s eyes, thoughtless and ignorant. No, you must not attempt to -question my judgment in such matters. I could not endure to be pitied.” - -“Nor I, Mamma.” - -“Then don’t put your acquaintances to the test,” said Mrs. Morland -bitterly. - -Frances looked up with clear, wondering eyes. - -“Would you rather I did not go to our Altruist meetings, then, Mamma? -You know, I’ve joined our little club again lately. Of course, all the -girls understand that I can be with them only once in a way, and that -I can’t make things for our stores, but they don’t seem to mind.” - -A smile of pleasure brightened the girl’s face as she recalled the -enthusiasm which had greeted her return to the Altruists. - -“By all means go to your meetings, child. It was not by my wish that -you left off doing so. And by all means attend regularly, and get -what fun you can in your dull life. As to the work, you shall not be -entirely empty-handed. You and I will set up a work-basket between us; -and if we have no new material, we can alter and cut down our own old -clothes.” - -“Oh, Mamma, that would be lovely!” said Frances gratefully. - -“I will look over your wardrobe this afternoon and bring down some -of the things you have quite outgrown. And, my dear, I wish you to -consider the matter of our meals as settled. We will all dine together, -and we shall have nice long evenings. Why, the Altruist work-basket -will be a positive blessing to me. You young people mustn’t be -surprised if I pay a visit to your study sometimes; it is just a little -lonely in my room after dark. I will sew while you are busy with your -lessons, and then we shall save a fire. We might let the kitchen fire -go out now and then after tea, and keep one in the sitting-room, so -that we could have an hour or two’s music. James has a nice voice--you -must teach him to sing.” ... - -“Mamma!--mamma darling!” Frances had flown to Mrs. Morland. Their -cheeks were pressed together, their arms were about one another. - -“There--you silly child! I have been thinking the old mother has been -out of everything long enough. Run away to your bedrooms; and before -you go, lend me your biggest apron. You shall see that I will soon -master the professional manner of washing breakfast-cups.” - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -POLLY’S DELIVERER. - - -“Max,” said Dr. Brenton from the hall door, “can you take a case for -me this afternoon?” The Doctor’s eyes twinkled as he spoke, for his -son’s professional aid furnished him with plenty of opportunity for -the harmless jesting enjoyed by both. “Of course, I mean if your own -private practice permits.” - -“Thank you,” replied Max gravely; “I believe I’ve nothing serious -on. My distinguished services are entirely at your disposal. Is it -toothache or measles? I’m great at measles.” - -“I’m sorry I can’t give you a turn with your speciality. It’s just a -broken arm. But there was some chance of fever; and the boy’s mother is -such a fool she can’t even take his temperature, or I might have told -her to send me word how he did--” - -“Pardon me, but who’s the boy?” - -“Oh! why, young Brown, at Appleton Farm.” - -Max whistled. “Hallo! that’s a six-mile trot.” - -“Yes, and I don’t know how you’re to get there. I can’t spare the trap, -for I’ve to go twice as far in the other direction.” - -“Never mind ways and means,” said Max cheerily. “As Appleton isn’t out -of our planet, I suppose I can reach it somehow.” - -“Wait a bit, though, my boy,” said the Doctor, stepping out on to the -gravel path and laying his hand on Max’s shoulder. “This is Wednesday, -and I don’t want to spoil any little plan for your friends’ holiday -afternoon. Was there a spree in view?” - -“Nothing you need bother about, Dad,” replied Max, raising his bright -face. “I was just going over to Rowdon with this pansy-root for -Frances. I forgot to grub up the thing in the morning, so I’m getting -it now.” - -“You always enjoy a few hours at Rowdon,” said the Doctor regretfully. -“Perhaps, after all, I might get back in time to tackle Appleton -myself.” - -“No, you mightn’t. You’ll be tired enough as it is, after being out -half last night. Don’t you worry, Dad, I’ll see to Brown.” - -“It won’t matter how late you visit him. You could have a game first, -lad. Rowdon is not much off the road to Appleton. Suppose you went -there first?” - -“Good idea! If Austin’s in trim, I dare say he’ll go on with me. -Frances too, maybe. Off you go, Dad, and don’t fidget about Brown. I’ll -settle him and his temperature.” - -So off the Doctor went, as easy in his mind as his young son’s care -could make him. And Max dug up his root, wrapped it neatly in brown -paper, and made ready for the tramp to Rowdon. - -Austin was “in trim” and volunteered his company to Appleton. Frances -and her mother had arranged to give the afternoon to the Altruist -work-basket; but they invited Max to come back to tea at the cottage, -and to play a game at cricket on the Common afterwards. The boys did -their walk in good time, found Brown’s temperature normal and his arm -doing well, and then strolled homeward at a leisurely pace. - -“How are things going in the village?” inquired Austin, as they neared -Rowdon, and topics of more personal interest had been pretty well -exhausted. “Has your father got old Fenn to do anything for Lumber’s -Yard?” - -“Fenn! Not he. But the folks themselves are looking up. Carlyon has -been hammering away at them a long time, as you know, and most of -them are a shade more respectable in consequence. At least, they are -beginning to show some disgust with that beast Baker, which is a sign -of a return to decency.” - -“Has Baker been doing anything fresh lately?” - -“Anything fresh in the way of brutality is hardly within Mr. Joe -Baker’s power. He’s an out-and-out right-down waster, and I told him so -yesterday for the fiftieth time.” - -“What was he doing?” - -“Mauling that tiny mite Polly. Fortunately Harry the Giant heard the -child yell, and went to her help just as I got there. I couldn’t help -treating Baker to a few home truths, and I wish you’d seen his scowls -and heard the pleasant things he promised me.” - -“Beast! But I say, Max, don’t put yourself in his way in a lonely lane -on a dark night. He doesn’t love you.” - -Max’s expressive “Ugh!” closed the subject. - -The tea-table, presided over by Mrs. Morland, was surrounded that -evening by a lively little company. Austin and Max gave a mirthful -version of their encounter with Mrs. Brown, concerning the beef-tea -they had ventured to criticise; and quiet Jim, whose sense of humour -was undergoing cultivation, chuckled over the boys’ small witticisms. -Max’s long walk had not robbed cricket of attraction. As soon as tea -had been cleared away, the youngsters dragged Jim off to the Common; -and even Mrs. Morland was cajoled into coming with them to look on and -keep the score. - -But it was a really tired-out lad who, when dusk was deepening into -darkness, bade Frances and Austin good-bye on the further side of the -Common. Max would not let his friends come further, for he meant to -cover a good part of the remaining distance at a swinging trot, which -might, he hoped, compel his aching legs to do their duty. And for a -time they did it nobly; but presently fatigue compelled the boy to slow -down to a steady walk, which made reflection easier. Max’s thoughts -were usually good company, and on this particular evening he had -abundant food for them. - -Max Brenton was nearing his fifteenth birthday, and his busy, capable -life held promise of early maturity. Though still a very boyish boy, -he had in his many quiet hours developed a power of concentration and -resolute temper, which inclined him to wider schemes of activity than -boyhood often learns to contemplate. It was only the strength and depth -of his affections--in which alone Max was child-like--that rendered -it possible for him to look forward without impatience to a career -consecrated to the service of Woodend. - -Max would have preferred a broader outlook and a brisker scene for his -energies. But he knew that a partnership with his son was Dr. Brenton’s -wildest dream of future happiness and prosperity, and Max could not -imagine himself bringing defeat to his father’s plan. How often had -they talked it over together! and how gaily had Max anticipated his -triumphant return to his little country home with the honours of the -schools bound thick about his brows! By that time Dad would want -someone to do the night-work, and share the responsibility of difficult -cases; and who should help him, who ever had helped him, but Max? - -The boy smiled as, moving rapidly through the evening darkness, he -reminded himself afresh of all these things. Then the smile faded, -and a quick sigh expressed the lurking regret of his growing years. -For a while his thoughts soared to all conceivable heights of medical -distinction; and he wondered whether, had his path not been inexorably -prepared for him, he might have climbed to better purpose some other -way. - -Max’s thoughts still dwelt lingeringly on the opportunities present-day -conditions afford to the specialist in any profession, as he drew -within sight of the straggling cottages of Woodend village. The first -of all was a neat little one-storeyed tenement, where dwelt poor Mrs. -Baker’s aged father and mother. Of late the couple had often tried -to shelter Bell and her little ones during outbreaks of Joe Baker’s -drunken fury; and more than once the fugitives had been pursued to -their place of refuge by their persecutor. Max recalled these facts -while his eyes caught through the trees the glimmer of lights below him -in the valley; and by a natural sequence of thought, he remembered also -his morning encounter with Joe. - -“He was in one of his worst moods,” meditated the boy; “and if the -‘Jolly Dog’ has seen any more of him since, I expect his wife will -be in danger to-night. I declare, I’ve half a mind to look in on her -father and give him a word of warning. He might fetch the children, -anyhow.” - -Max looked again at the light in old Baring’s distant window, and -decided to carry out his plan. A little further on he turned into the -lane where, many months ago, Austin Morland’s galloping pony had caught -up “brother Jim”. The overhanging trees behind tall wooden palings -added to the natural darkness of the hour and place; and it was not -till his eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom that he detected a tiny -figure stumbling towards him up the path. When the child came close, -Max saw that it was little five-year-old Polly Baker. - -“Hallo!” sang out Max; “you again, small kid! What are you doing here?” - -“Oh, Mas’r Max! Mas’r Max!” The child flung herself at the lad, and -clung to him desperately. “He’s after me, Father is! Don’t let him have -me! Please don’t, Mas’r Max!” - -The boy lifted the little child in his arms, and tried to soothe her. -He felt that her frail body was palpitating with the terror which had -already made her baby face wizened and old. A mighty wrath surged into -Max’s heart. Polly’s trembling fingers tugging weakly at his jacket -called all his manliest instincts into vigour. - -He easily made out the child’s broken words of explanation. Baker had -been turned away from the “Jolly Dog” as being dangerous to its other -frequenters, and in malicious rage had lurched home and set about -beating wife and children indiscriminately. Neighbours had come to the -rescue, and had seen that Bell was safely housed with a friend, while -her children were sent under escort to their grandfather Baring. For a -time Baker had remained indoors, nursing his wrongs; then, not daring -to interfere with Bell, since Harry the Giant was mounting guard over -her, he had set out in the dark to wreak his fury on the Barings and -their helpless charges. - -His coming had sent Polly and the other little ones into paroxysms of -terror, and they had flown for shelter out to the friendly night. Baker -was drunk enough to be dangerous, without having in the least lost -control over his senses. Little Polly, whose baby fist had sometimes -been raised in defence of her mother, was always his favourite victim; -and the child now gasped in Max’s ear her certainty that her father -had seen and followed her. If he had been sure she was right, Max -would have turned instantly, and have run back up the lane to some -trusty villager’s dwelling; but before he could persuade himself to -this course, events proved Polly’s fear to be justified. Round the -corner into the lane came Baker, running at full speed, with sufficient -certainty of gait to assure Max that he would have no helpless drunkard -to deal with. - -Even then, Max knew that he could escape, without Polly. Max was fleet -of foot; but the clinging grasp of the childish fingers and the weight -of the little quivering body were enough to give the advantage to -Baker in an uphill race. Max had but a minute for reflection, and he -determined to try to dodge Baker, slip past him, and make a dash for -the village. Running downhill, he thought he might outstrip the enemy, -should he give chase; and there would be the chance of meeting help in -the more frequented road. - -Max had hardly resolved on the attempt, when he knew it had failed. -Baker made a cunning feint of speeding by, then flung himself to one -side and fairly pinned Max against the palings. In a twinkling the boy -had twisted himself free, and set down his burden with a whispered “Run -for it, Polly! Run back to the village, fast!” - -Max’s fear was all for the baby girl, and his one thought now was to -gain time for her escape. Therefore he made no attempt to secure his -own, but threw all his strength into the effort to hold back Polly’s -father, who, with threats which chilled Max’s blood, addressed thickly -to the flying child, was trying to hurl himself after her. The strong -young arms of Polly’s defender were not so easily shaken off; and as -the little flickering feet carried their owner round the corner and out -of sight, Baker turned his attention to revenge. - -Max’s vigour was already nearly spent, and his danger had been obvious -to him from the beginning of the unequal struggle. Baker’s hatred of -“the young Doc”, first called into active existence on the night when -the boy’s manœuvres had successfully combated his own brutal designs, -had increased continually ever since. It was Max’s interference, and -Max’s personal popularity, which had made the denizens of Lumber’s Yard -band themselves into a sort of bodyguard to protect Baker’s ill-used -wife and children. It was Max who had again and again assailed the -drunkard and bully with words of biting contempt. It was Max who had -that very morning boldly threatened to obtain legal redress for Bell -and her little ones should their cruel tyrant persecute them once more. - -Now the man had the boy in his power. Max could not do much in -self-defence. He tried to hit out, but Baker, seizing his arms, flung -him back against the fence, and, pinning him there with one hand, -struck at him furiously with the other. Even then Max’s thoughts were -with the escaping child, and he clung desperately to the arm which -held him during the few moments of blinding pain before he dropped. -Baker was not made of the stuff which spares a fallen foe. His heavy -nailed boots did a ruffian’s work on the prostrate body of Max Brenton. - - * * * * * - -Little Polly fled as for dear life along the village road. She passed -her grandfather’s house, which had proved so poor a shelter; she gave -no heed to bystanders at cottage-gates; she did not dare to pause even -when a friendly voice addressed her. Deep in her baby heart was a fear, -not for herself alone; and she flew on and on, her fluttering breath -panting between her white lips, her scared eyes gleaming with terror -above her colourless cheeks. Her way soon led her by large houses set -far back in their beautiful gardens, and at the gate of one of these a -boy stood waiting for a comrade. - -“Hallo, Polly! What’s the scare, youngster? Stop, and let’s hear.” - -Every Altruist was Polly’s friend, and knew the story of her wretched -home. So now at last the child ventured to check her headlong pace, and -to give voice to her baby fears. This lad, she knew, was Guy Gordon--he -who could make cunning use of the strange silver flute, he whose -pockets kept stores of sweets for tiny, crimson-frocked girls. Guy -was the friend of Polly’s young deities--Max and Austin, Frances and -Florry. To him the child now turned with a despairing cry. - -“Mas’r Max! Oh, it’s Mas’r Max!” - -“No, it’s Mas’r Guy!” laughed the boy good-naturedly. “What’s up, -Trots?” - -“Save him, p’ease save Mas’r Max! Father’s got him in the dark lane far -away. Father’ll kill Mas’r Max!” - -“Polly! What!--what do you mean, child? Your father, and Max! Where?” - -Guy knew, like the rest of his small world, the hatred felt by Baker -for the Doctor’s son; and while the boy tried to assure himself that -there was no use in heeding incoherent babble from a mere baby like -Polly, a horrible dread swept across his mind. - -“Father’s got him! Oh, Father’s got Mas’r Max! Father hates Mas’r Max -’cos he won’t let him beat Mummy and me! Father’ll kill Mas’r Max away -in the dark lane, ’cos--’cos Mas’r Max held Father to let Polly run!” - -“It can’t be true! Polly, are you certain you mean just what you say? -Oh, what’s the use of asking her! I’ll do something on the chance--” - -Guy thought a moment, then, picking up the child, ran at his best speed -up the road to Dr. Brenton’s house, now close at hand. - -“Me was comin’ here!” sobbed Polly, as Guy pelted in at the gate; “me -was comin’ to tell Dokker! Polly love Dokker and Mas’r Max. Polly not -let Mas’r Max be killed dead!” - -“You poor little brave thing!” muttered Guy, choking back a sob -himself. “If anything has happened to Max, what will the Doctor do? He -is in, I know. I saw him go home just half an hour ago. Where’s the -bell? Ugh! how my hand shakes! I’m no better than this baby.” - -The Doctor was in, heard Guy’s story, and keeping over his voice and -face a control which amazed his boy-visitor, questioned Polly so -quietly and gently that he drew from her an account clear enough as to -time and place, and connected enough as to fact, to convince himself -and Guy that the little one told the truth. Then he called Janet, -handed Polly into her care, and caught up his hat and a thick stick. - -Dr. Brenton and Guy ran down the road, side by side, at a level, steady -trot. Guy kept respectful and sympathetic silence. He, like Polly, -loved the good Doctor and Max. - -Suddenly Guy drew from his pocket a whistle, on which he blew a loud -and shrill blast. - -“It’s the Altruists’ whistle, sir,” he explained briefly. “Of course we -won’t wait, but if there are any of ‘Ours’ about, they’ll turn up and -help.” - -“Thanks, lad,” said the Doctor. “We’ll pray as we go that Max has -escaped from that scoundrel.” - -“He wouldn’t try,” said Guy simply, “while Polly was about.” - -“You’re right,” said the Doctor, and they sped on. - -Guy’s whistle roused the echoes. Down the garden-paths and the shadowy -drives of the larger dwellings of Woodend rushed a half-score of -Altruists, responsive to the well-known signal, and eager to know what -had brought it forth. For this particular whistle was never used save -when opportunity offered for the Society’s members to justify their -motto, “Help Others”. The running boys soon caught up the Doctor and -Guy, and heard from the latter, in his breathless undertones, what -the signal had meant. The lads felt themselves in sufficient force to -deliver Max from any danger; and as the village road was now empty -of all save stragglers hieing homeward, they attracted no particular -attention. - -“There’s Harry the Giant!” exclaimed Frank Temple, who ran beside Guy -just in the Doctor’s wake. “He might be of use--I’ll bring him.” - -The name of Max sufficed for Harry, who attached himself willingly to -the little group of boys. Then in silence they followed the Doctor -out of the village, along the uphill country road, and so into the -long, dark lane, which Polly’s description had enabled Dr. Brenton to -identify. Half-way up the lane they came upon Max, lying, as Baker had -left him, in the deep shadow of the trees. - -All the lads waited silently while the father knelt down to examine his -son. - -“I think he is alive, Guy,” said Dr. Brenton presently, while he turned -to his young allies a white and agonized face; “if he is, that’s the -most I can say--and I’m not sure yet. Come, you all cared for him; you -shall help me to carry him home.” - -The boys pressed forward, but Harry, stepping quickly in front of them, -stooped and raised Max carefully in his mighty arms. - -“By your leave, gen’lemen,” said the big, good-hearted fellow, “there’s -none but me as shall carry Master Max.” - -And after that there was for Polly’s deliverer a long and dreamless -night. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -WANTED--A NICE SOMEBODY. - - -When Max again looked out on the world with seeing eyes, he was lying -upon his own bed, a fact which for the moment puzzled him exceedingly. -Because cool air and soft sunshine were coming in at the open window; -and while it was yet day, Max had been wont to work. As he still -scolded himself lazily for a good-for-nothing lie-abed, and almost -resolved to rise that very minute, his blinking eyes caught sight of -a dark mass which resolved itself slowly into the definite shape of -humanity, and became the motionless figure of a man. - -“Dad!” - -The figure moved, rose, came forward with the painful caution of dreary -suspense. Dr. Brenton had doubted his ears, and Max’s eyelids were -together again. But gradually they parted, tardily but surely, and -Max’s lips smiled. - -[Illustration: - -M432 - -“THE FIGURE MOVED, ROSE, CAME FORWARD WITH THE PAINFUL CAUTION OF DREARY -SUSPENSE.”] - -The boy heard a low-breathed murmur of thanksgiving. - -“Dad!” - -“Ah!--Max!...” - -Round the corner of a big screen near the door came the eager face -of a boy. Just one peep at that other boyish face on the pillow, and -then Austin’s vanished. A minute later its owner, on shoeless feet, -was dancing a wild jig of enthusiasm on the landing outside. For the -great London specialist, Sir Gerald Turner, had said that if, within a -certain time, Max recovered consciousness, there might be a chance for -his life. And Austin had firm faith in that “chance”. - -Sir Gerald had found it convenient to spend a country holiday with his -brother, Betty’s father, and might be relied on to be within hail. -Max’s case was interesting, and Sir Gerald liked Dr. Brenton. So now -Austin, with one brief word to Janet, found his boots, dragged them on -somehow, and flew to summon the famous physician. Sir Gerald came at a -pace which tried Austin’s patience to the last degree; but as the man -was not to be hurried, the boy ran in advance, and wondered as he went -what it could feel like to give a verdict for life or death. - -Dr. Brenton came to meet his coadjutor, and led him upstairs. The two -friends, speaking in whispers, passed out of Austin’s ken. Then the -boy, studying his watch, learned that Sir Gerald could actually be -heartless enough to keep him in horrible uncertainty for a good ten -minutes, and wondered how London could produce and tolerate such a -monster. The distant hum of voices heard murmuringly through Max’s -window overhead was so intolerable that Austin covered his ears with -his hands as he rocked to and fro on the doorstep. Thus he was taken by -surprise when a hand was laid kindly on his shoulder, and a voice said -gently: - -“Be comforted, my boy. Your playfellow is better: he is going to pull -through.” - -Austin’s wild shout of joy made Max stir in his health-giving sleep; -but after all it did no harm, and carried to a little knot of waiting -Altruists the first glad prophecy of better things to come. - - * * * * * - -Max improved slowly, and at length reached a point of improvement -beyond which he seemed unable to go. No one was more disturbed than -he that this should be the case. His father was palpably uneasy at -leaving him, and yet work must be attended to. His own pensioners were -doubtless in need of him, though the entire body of Altruists had -placed themselves unreservedly at his service. - -Through the cloudless days of a beautiful May the Doctor’s son -struggled back to life, and learned afresh how sweet a thing it was. He -never was lonely, for some boy or girl was always at hand to look after -food and medicines, tell stories, and invite orders. On his own behalf -Max was not exigent; but his comrades found out, during those days of -vicarious work among the sick and sorry of Woodend, how busy a person -“the young Doc” had become, and how many of his glad boyish hours must -have been given freely to the helping of others. - -“Max was an Altruist long before we started our Society,” remarked -Frances meditatively. “I don’t know how he managed to do all he did.” - -“‘Busy people always have most time,’” said Betty sententiously. - -“Will Max ever be busy again, I wonder?” questioned Florry. “Oh, poor -Max!--if he doesn’t get well! I heard Dr. Brenton tell Papa that Max -didn’t get on a bit, and that he had been so badly hurt.--Oh, Frances! -wasn’t it cruel?” - -“Yes; but Max is a hero, and we’re proud of him. And he’s quite brave -about it. If he fretted, he wouldn’t have half so good a chance; -but since he’s plucky and quiet he will surely get well some day. -Meanwhile, we can take care of all his ‘cases’.--I dressed a burn -to-day,” finished Frances triumphantly. “The child had come to see -Max--just fancy--and I took him in, and Max showed me how to do it.” - -“We’ll start an ambulance class, and beg Dr. Brenton to teach us,” -said Betty. “I should like it. I’m going to be a doctor some day, and -live in Harley Street, and be rich and famous, and cure all the people -nobody else can cure;--I’ll be just like Uncle Gerald.” - -“And Florry will be rich and famous too,” sighed Frances; “she’ll write -hooks and plays and be as great an author as you will be a doctor. Oh, -dear! I sha’n’t be anybody particular. I’ll just have to stay at home -and help Max with his easy cases.” - -“I can tell you something more about Max,” said Betty. “Uncle Gerald -says Dr. Brenton ought to send him away yachting with somebody who -would take great care of him, and then he would get well a great deal -sooner. I’m on the look-out for a nice Somebody to do it. I’ve a cousin -who has a yacht, and I wrote to him, and what do you think the wretch -replied? ‘Catch me plaguing myself with an invalid boy!’ I sha’n’t -speak to him when he comes here again.” - -“I wouldn’t,” said Florry, with equal determination. - -“He doesn’t know Max,” said Frances. - -“We will ask all the Altruists to ‘look out for a nice Somebody’ to -take Max a sea-voyage,” said Florry. “I dare say we shall soon find -someone. Now, good-bye, girls; it’s my turn to be nurse. I’ve a lovely -story by Stanley Weyman to read to Max, and I’m aching to begin it.” - -If the care and service of his friends could have cured the sick boy he -would have made a wonderfully quick recovery. As it was, they certainly -helped him loyally through the long days of his pain and weakness; -and the persistent cheerfulness of their prophecies as to his future -coloured insensibly his own thoughts, and made them usually bright and -always contented. Then, though the details of Baker’s capture by a band -of Woodend villagers, and his exemplary punishment at their hands, were -still withheld from him, he had the relief of knowing that the brutal -rascal of Lumber’s Yard had been packed off to America, with a threat -of legal proceedings should he dare to reappear in Woodend; and that -Bell Baker, free of his tyranny, was developing into a good mother and -tidy housewife. Max’s friends found her as much work as she could do; -and the Altruists helped her judiciously with extra food and clothing -for her little ones. - -Moreover, the Woodend gentlemen held a meeting, at which they said many -pleasant things about the Doctor’s son, and many serious ones about the -condition of the worst part of their village. Edward Carlyon gave his -testimony; and it was resolved to attempt the purchase of Lumber’s -Yard. This plan was actually carried out almost immediately; and a few -months later the “Jolly Dog” and the surrounding wretched dwellings -were pulled down, and Lumber’s Yard was no more. Instead, the proud -villagers beheld a row of pretty cottages about an open green; and to -the small colony was given, by universal vote, the name of young Max -Brenton. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -LESSING OF LESSING’S CREEK. - - -“Things are looking up, or else the world is coming to an end. Jim has -a visitor.” - -“Truly?” - -“On my word of honour. I say, Frances, he’s such a quaint chap to look -at.” - -“Somebody else is quaint to look at. I hope you weren’t in your -shirt-sleeves when you answered the door?” - -“Well--hardly. I believe I wore a complete shirt, likewise a pair of -breeks.” - -“Run away, boy. I’m busy.” - -“So am I--awful. But in the goodness of my heart I just looked in to -bring you the news. The fellow told me his name was Tom Lessing, of -Lessing’s Creek Farm, Douglas River, Australia. Pretty wide address. -He asked for Jim, and said Jim would be sure to see him, so I sent him -along to the smithy. But first, as I didn’t want to miss a chance, I -inquired if he had happened to meet Mr. Walter Keith--thinking that he -would have run across Cousin Walter as likely as not. But he hadn’t.” - -“That was remarkable. Australia, as you observed, is a wide address.” - -“Well, there was no harm in asking. I hope Jim will invite Tom Lessing, -of Lessing’s Creek Farm, to dinner. I’d love to hear a backwoodsman -talk. I’d love to go to Australia. Isn’t it odd of Jim not to long to -be a colonist? He says he wouldn’t like it a bit.” - -“Cousin Walter hasn’t particularly enjoyed being a colonist, Master -Adventurous.” - -“Oh, that’s because he didn’t learn a trade before he went, and because -he didn’t understand sheep-farming, and because he’s a bit of a duffer -all round! Now, Jim’s got a kernel in his nut--” - -“Austin!” - -“Well, brains in his cranium, then. I’m off to peep in on Tom Lessing, -of Lessing’s Creek Farm.” - -“No, dear, don’t. Perhaps he and Jim are old friends.” - -“Yes, they are. He said so. He said a jolly lot in two minutes, I can -tell you.” - -“Then I wouldn’t pry, Austin. They may have a great deal to tell each -other.” - -“Well, I won’t pry. I’ll just stroll past the smithy.” - -“I thought you were so fearfully busy?” - -“So I am. I’m busy keeping you posted up in the latest intelligence.” - -“Mamma wants some peas gathered. Get them for her, there’s a dear.” - -“None of your blarney! You want to watch over my manners by keeping me -in sight. Not a bit! Tom Lessing, like a magnet, lures me to Lessing’s -Creek Farm, Douglas River, Australia.” - -Austin walked with dignity out by the backdoor, but presently put his -head in again, and remarked: - -“Of course I’ll gather the peas--enough for five!” - - * * * * * - -Mrs. Morland was seated shelling peas in the orchard,--it was a warm -June morning,--when her stepson, walking quickly over the short, -sweet-smelling grass, came to her side. - -“Can you spare a minute?” he asked with his old nervousness. The sight -of his stepmother taking part in the day’s household work always -increased his uneasy sense of his own shortcomings. - -“Oh, yes! Have you anything to tell me, James?” - -“Just that an old friend has come to see me, and is still here. He’s -waiting for me in the smithy. Tom Lessing and I used to be great chums -once on a time, though his people were better off than mine. He went -out to Australia four years ago, and he has done very well.” Mrs. -Morland heard a slight sigh. “He always was a very capable chap, and he -has a splendid farm out there now. I--I think the children would like -him; he has seen such a lot. Please, would you mind very much if I kept -him to dinner?” - -“Is he very rough? I do not mean to hurt you, James; but you know I -have Frances to think of.” - -“I would not let a rough fellow come near the children,” said Jim in -gentle reproach. - -“No--no. I am sure you would not. Then, pray keep your friend. I will -help Frances to prepare something extra, and he shall be made welcome.” - -“Thank you very much,” said Jim gratefully. “Tom has come to England -for a holiday, and he is going to take lodgings in Exham for a few -days, so that we may see something of each other. I should not wish him -to come here, Mrs. Morland,” added Jim simply, “if you were afraid for -the children; but, indeed, Tom is a nice fellow, and I think you will -not dislike him.” - -The last words proved true. Tom Lessing had not long been in Mrs. -Morland’s presence before she had decided that she liked him very much. -He was several years older than her stepson, and as big and strong as -Jim was slight and active. He treated Jim’s “lady-folk” with courteous -deference, and was evidently able to polish his “backwoodsman” manners -for fit converse in an English home. The dinner passed off pleasantly, -Jim and Austin distinguishing themselves as waiters. The visitor -enjoyed everything, and behaved in an easy, natural fashion which had -nothing vulgar about it. Mrs. Morland reflected that her stepson must -have followed some wise instinct in the choice of his boyhood’s friends. - -That dinner was the first of several meals shared by Tom with his old -chum, and his chum’s kindred. Privately, he declared that Jim was a -lucky chap to have proved his right to claim relationship with such a -bright, plucky little pair as his lately-discovered brother and sister; -and then he added a few words in acknowledgment of Mrs. Morland’s -courteous welcome, which made Jim happier than anything. Besides -sharing meals, Tom found himself made free of the smithy, where he held -exhaustive discussions with Jim, and of the orchard, where he romped -with Austin, to the latter’s great content. - -During the old friends’ exchange of confidences and record of -experiences, Jim was lured into expressions of feeling with regard to -his kindred which made good-hearted Tom look on the lad with kindly -and pitying eyes. With him, overwrought Jim felt he might venture to -unbosom himself of his anxieties and ambitions concerning the future. -Jim’s desired course of action tended in only one way--the proper -maintenance, in ease and comfort, of his stepmother and sister, and -the careful training of his brother with a view to Austin’s adoption -of some honourable profession. While uttering his aspirations, Jim -revealed to his attentive chum the reality of his pride in the girl -and boy who depended on him, and his deep affection for them. Tom -listened and pondered, and made up his mind. His liking for “young -East” had always been something more than mere boyish comradeship; and -the respect and sympathy with which he quietly noted Jim’s hard and -continual effort to live up to his own high standard of duty now added -to Tom’s former easy liking the deeper regard of his maturer years. - - * * * * * - -One morning Frances, wandering through the orchard for a breath of -cool air, came suddenly on Jim, who was lying at full length on the -bank in the shadow of the hedge, his head pillowed on his folded arms. -There was something so forlorn in the lad’s attitude that Frances -feared some fresh trouble had overtaken him; and she was not surprised -that his face, when he raised it in answer to her call, was darkened by -a deep dejection. - -“Jim--Jim! What is the matter? Now, it’s no use to try to hide things, -Jim! You know it isn’t. Just tell me.” - -Jim dragged himself up to his sister’s level as she sat down beside -him, and his eyes rested very wistfully on her inquiring face. So long -and sad was his gaze that the girl grew yet more uncomfortable, and -repeated her question insistently. - -“I’ve no bad news for you, Missy,” said Jim at last, with great effort. -“None that you will find bad, at least. I have heard something, and -I’ve been thinking it over; that’s all. If I weren’t a coward, it -wouldn’t have wanted any thinking.” - -“Well, what is it, Jim?” - -“I will tell you presently, Missy. As well now as any time; only I’d -like your mother and the lad to hear too.” - -“Jim,” said Frances, her brave voice quivering slightly, “you speak as -though your news were bad.” - -“That’s just my selfishness,” muttered Jim; “I couldn’t see all at once -the rights of things. I can see now.” - -“Come indoors and tell us all about it,” said Frances, trying to speak -cheerfully; “not much news grows better by keeping.” - -“It could be only a matter of hours for this, anyway,” replied Jim -gently; “and if your mother is at liberty and Austin is at home, I will -do as you wish.” - -So Frances led the way, and the pair walked soberly to the little house -which had become to both a cherished home. - -Jim waited at the back-door while his sister went to look for her -mother and brother, and finding them both in the study, sharing the -window-seat, and the task of snipping gooseberries, ran back to summon -the “head of the family”. - -All the responsibility of headship was in the lad’s countenance as he -entered the study in his sister’s wake. He stood silent while Frances, -in brief fashion, explained the situation; but something in her -stepson’s look caught and held Mrs. Morland’s attention, and made her -suspect that a tragedy might underlie Jim’s unusual calmness. She could -not guess how hard he had striven to reach the degree of composure -necessary to satisfy his stepmother’s ideal of good breeding. - -“Yes, I’ve something to tell,” he said, when Frances paused, “and I -hope it will mean a real difference to you all. I had no right to look -forward to such a chance as I have had given me, and I know you’ll -wonder at it too--” - -“James,” interrupted Mrs. Morland, with an acute glance, “you don’t -look as though the chance were altogether welcome.” - -“That’s what I told him,” said Frances brightly. “He pretends to bring -good news, but I believe he’s a deceiver.” - -Jim flushed slightly, and hung his head. “You must please forgive me,” -he murmured, “if I seem ungrateful and selfish. Indeed, I want to see -how everything’s for the best. I’ll be quick now, and tell my news. You -know Tom Lessing has a fine place in Australia, and is making money -fast. He has a lot of hands, and seems to pay them well; and he gives -every one of them a share in his profits over and above their salaries. -Tom is very kind, and--you’ve all been good and kind to him, for which -we both thank you.” - -Though Jim spoke earnestly, there was an aloofness in his manner which -touched all his listeners, and reminded them, with keen shame, what -scanty cause he had, even now, to feel himself one of them. Frances -impulsively moved a step nearer him, and stopped, overcome by the -constraint she could not disguise; Austin sprang to his brother’s side, -and pressed affectionately against him. Jim gently held him off, as -though the lad’s caresses threatened his own self-control; but his -hand kept the boy within reach, and once or twice passed tenderly over -Austin’s tumbled curly head. If Mrs. Morland ever had doubted her -stepson’s love for her children, the suspicion from that moment died -away. - -“Because he is kind, and because you have been good to him,” continued -Jim, “Tom has given me a chance. He has offered to take me back with -him to Australia, and to find me a good place as one of his overseers. -He says I’d soon learn enough to be of use, and he’d help me to get on. -I should have two hundred and fifty a year; and as I’d live with him, -he’d give me board and lodging too. So, since I shouldn’t want much for -clothes, I could send nearly all my earnings home; and there would be -grandfather’s money as well, and we would sell the smithy. I’ve been -thinking you might have a little house in Woodend, and the children -would go to school again, and by and by Austin would go to college. I -hope you would be very happy.” - -The speaker’s lips trembled for just a second, in evidence of full -heart and highly-strung nerves. Then Jim, with courageous eyes, looked -across the room for comments and congratulations. - -“We should be very happy?” queried Frances; and this time she went -close to her brother, and took his hand. “Oh, Jim!” she exclaimed, her -eyes bright with tears; “don’t go away from us, dear Jim!” - -“You sha’n’t go away--so that’s all about it!” cried Austin, with a -masterful toss of his fair head. “You sha’n’t oversee anybody, except -us. It’s tommy-rot.” - -“We are happy now,” continued Frances in trembling haste. “We don’t -want any more money, if we can’t have it without giving you up to -Australia. What’s the use of having found you, Jim, if you go away -again?” - -[Illustration: - -M432 - -“AH! BUT YOU WOULD MAKE SUCH A MISTAKE IF YOU THOUGHT WE WOULD LET YOU -GO.”] - -Boy and girl, on either side, were clinging tightly to him. Jim, trying -to be calm--trying to be brave--looked desperately to his stepmother -for her expected support. If she should quench Austin and Frances with -some cynical reproof--if she should accept Jim’s final sacrifice with -just a word of contemptuous indifference--surely his pride would help -his judgment to keep fast hold of his failing courage. - -Mrs. Morland had already risen, and was coming towards him now with -hands outstretched, and in her face the light of a motherly love to -which Jim could not try to be blind. - -“Would you really do that for us?” she asked, smiling, though her -voice was not quite steady. “Ah! but you would make such a mistake if -you thought we would let you go. Frances is right;--we can do without -wealth, but we can’t do without you!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -TO THE FAR SOUTH. - - -“And so you want me to go back to Australia alone? But, my dear madam, -consider. Though I say it, this is a really first-rate opening for -Jim--and remember the advantage to your own children. You won’t think -me impertinent, will you, for what may seem a cool sort of interference -in your affairs? You and all your family have been so kind to me that I -can’t help taking a warm interest in your children; and as for Jim--I -think he’s first-rate. I quite admit that, in wanting him, I’ve a -selfish regard for my own concerns.” - -“I don’t believe there’s an atom of selfishness about you, Mr. -Lessing,” replied Mrs. Morland, speaking slowly and very sincerely. “I -am not in the least offended by your frank speech, for I appreciate -to the full all you say about my children. Among ‘my children’, you -must please include Jim; and when I say that your opinion of him is -also mine, I think you will see why I want to keep him with me. He is -willing to endure exile for the sake of his sister and brother; but I -no longer think, as I’m afraid I did once, that Jim ought to give all -and receive nothing. Frances and Austin are not afraid of work, and -are anxious to do all they can to ease the load which, as you know, -at present lies chiefly on their brother. By and by they will relieve -him more. No, Mr. Lessing, we can’t part with Jim. To be plain, we are -indebted to you for teaching us how much we need him.” - -“Then that’s all right,” returned Tom heartily, “and glad am I to hear -it. I didn’t take long to see that the foolish lad was breaking his -heart because he fancied the young folks and you would just as soon be -without him. So, thought I, let Jim put it to the test: if he’s right, -he’ll do better to make a fresh start and learn to stand alone; if he’s -wrong, he’ll be a happy fellow when he discovers it. There, you’ll -forgive me, won’t you? I meant my offer straight enough, and I mean it -still. It rests with you whether Jim has a way made clear for him, or -whether he hasn’t. He won’t leave you and the children. Well and good: -let you and the children come with him. A minute more--best allow me -to say my say, and then you’ll find it easier to answer. My place out -there is not so lonely that you need fear to be beyond civilization. -There’s Douglas Town near at hand, with good schools and the rest, and -plenty of nice folk of a sort you could make friends with. Then the air -is dry and bracing--just the thing for your boy. Lastly,--and this is -a bit personal, maybe,--if you and the young people came out with Jim, -you’d find a home ready-made. The Creek Farm badly wants a mistress, -and I’d be proud to see you reign there, and grateful too. I’m not -a marrying man--now. I had my dream;--you’ll not think the worse of -me, Mrs. Morland,--it’s over. But I can fancy what a difference it -would make out yonder, if there were a kindly, gracious gentlewoman in -authority. As for Miss Frances, she’d just be the light of the place. -Last of all, I’d like to say that our exile--for so it is to every son -of Old England--needn’t be for always. When Jim and I had made our -pile,--and we’d try to be quick about it,--we’d all come home again; in -time, maybe, for Austin to keep his terms at Oxford. Well, that’s all -I need trouble you with for a first start; details can follow. I think -you know enough to be able to decide.” - - * * * * * - -Mrs. Morland’s decision was not arrived at all at once, or without some -serious deliberations with her “trio”. They were all old enough to -comprehend both the advantages and disadvantages of the plan proposed -by Lessing; but Austin’s delight at the prospect of becoming a -“backwoodsman” was not to be damped by the assurance that in Australia, -as in England, he would have to be just a schoolboy for a good while -yet. The only regret of the two youngest of the family was the -anticipation of a long parting from friends tried and true; but various -circumstances rendered this outlook less dismal than it might have -been. Florry Fane and her parents were going to the Normandy aunt for -a lengthy stay; Guy Gordon and Frank Temple were bound for Harrow next -term; Betty Turner and the First Violin were at the same date to become -pupils of Miss Cliveden at Haversfield College. - -And Max? Well, Max’s movements were decided for him by Frances at the -outset of the family deliberations. - -“A voyage to Australia! The very thing for Max! And we could keep him -out there until he was quite well and strong, and bring him back in -time for college with Austin!” - -“Yes, we must have Max,” declared Lessing, who had given a good many -hours to the entertainment of Woodend’s petted “hero”, and accounted -himself a favoured friend of the young Doctor and the old. “And why -shouldn’t his father come too? I’d guarantee him plenty of practice: -we’d give our ears for an English medical man out there. I’ll wager -he’d make his fortune faster than any of us.” - -After that, Dr. Brenton joined in one or two of the councils, but his -decision was arrived at more easily than Mrs. Morland’s. He had only -Max to think of, and Sir Gerald said that a sea-voyage and a prolonged -residence in a fine climate would certainly save Max for a useful -maturity. The Doctor set his old dreams aside, and made a final draw on -“Examinations”. If that hoarded fund would give his boy present ease -and future vigour, he could afford to wait patiently and let the world -slip by. Some day Max would find his life-work: what it might be his -father no longer cared to anticipate. Enough to know that the crown -of a worthy manhood must be the unfailing reward of a generous and -unselfish youth. - -At last Mrs. Morland spoke. - -“Children, I think that we will go. Jim ought to have his chance, and -we don’t wish to separate. That, after all, sums up everything for the -present, so the question is answered easily enough.... Now, we must not -keep back Mr. Lessing, and he is kindly anxious to take us with him. -Besides, let us remember Max, whose hope of health depends, it seems, -on a quick departure. We must help each other to make haste.” - - * * * * * - -We cannot here follow our three young Altruists into their busy lives -across seas; but we know that they will ever be the best of comrades, -and never better than when sharing willing labours in the service of -all who need their aid. - -Frances’s motto, “Help Others”, was faithfully cherished in her old -home. Woodend kept up constant communication with the Creek Farm, and -still hoped some day to welcome the wanderers back. Meanwhile, a branch -“Society of Altruists” was started in the new home in the far southern -continent; and Antipodean school-fellows of Frances and Austin became -oddly familiar with a certain corner of Old England, and with the girls -and boys who worked and played together there. - - -THE END. - - -PRINTED BY BLACKIE AND SON, LIMITED. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. - - - - -BY G. A. HENTY. - -“Mr. Henty’s stores of literary vivacity are inexhaustible, and boys -will find their old favourite as full of instruction and of excitement -as ever.”--_The Times._ - -_In crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges._ - - -=With Frederick the Great=: A Tale of the Seven Years’ War. By G. A. -HENTY. With 12 page Illustrations by WAL PAGET, and Maps. 6_s._ - - “The story is one of Mr. Henty’s best, and so cleverly is history - interwoven with fiction that the boy who reads it will know as much - about the _Seven Years’ War_ as many an adult student of Carlyle’s - masterpiece.”--_Standard._ - -=With Moore at Corunna=: A Tale of the Peninsular War. By G. A. HENTY. -With 12 page Illustrations by WAL PAGET. 6_s._ - - “A very spirited story, well worthy to be ranked with the best of - Mr. Henty’s work. Terence O’Connor, up to the time of the opening of - the tale, has done little but get into mischief, but as soon as he - feels the responsibility of being one of Mr. Henty’s heroes, combines - discretion with courage, not forgetting, however, to spice the mixture - with a little fun.”--_Spectator._ - -=The Tiger of Mysore=: A Story of the War with Tippoo Saib. By G. A. -HENTY. With 12 Illustrations by W. H. 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HINDLEY. 5_s._ - - “Few Christmas books will be more to the taste of the ingenuous boy - than _In the Heart of the Rockies_.”--_Athenæum._ - - “Mr. Henty is seen here at his best as an artist in lightning - fiction.”--_Academy._ - -=One of the 28th=: A Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. HENTY. With 8 page -Illustrations by W. H. OVEREND, and 2 Maps. 5_s._ - - “Written with Homeric vigour and heroic inspiration. It is graphic, - picturesque, and dramatically effective ... shows us Mr. Henty at his - best and brightest. The adventures will hold a boy of a winter’s night - enthralled as he rushes through them with breathless interest ‘from - cover to cover’.”--_Observer._ - -=Facing Death=: or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A Tale of the Coal -Mines. By G. A. HENTY. With 8 page Pictures by GORDON BROWNE. 5_s._ - - “If any father, godfather, clergyman, or schoolmaster is on the - look-out for a good book to give as a present to a boy who is worth - his salt, this is the book we would recommend.”--_Standard._ - - “Ask for Henty, and see that you get him.”--_Punch._ - -=The Cat of Bubastes=: A Story of Ancient Egypt. By G. A. HENTY. -Illustrated by J. R. WEGUELIN. 5_s._ - - “The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred - cat to the perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very - skilfully constructed and full of exciting adventures. It is admirably - illustrated.”--_Saturday Review._ - -=Maori and Settler=: A Story of the New Zealand War. By G. A. HENTY. -With 8 page Illustrations by ALFRED PEARSE. 5_s._ - - “It is a book which all young people, but especially boys, will read - with avidity.”--_Athenæum._ - - “A first-rate book for boys, brimful of adventure, of humorous - and interesting conversation, and of vivid pictures of colonial - life.”--_Schoolmaster._ - -=St. George for England=: A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers. By G. A. -HENTY. Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. 5_s._ - - “A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style - the author has endeavoured to show that determination and enthusiasm - can accomplish marvellous results; and that courage is generally - accompanied by magnanimity and gentleness.”--_Pall Mall Gazette._ - -=The Bravest of the Brave=: With Peterborough in Spain. By G. A. HENTY. -With 8 full-page Pictures by H. M. PAGET. 5_s._ - - “Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work--to - enforce the doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and lovingkindness, - as indispensable to the making of an English gentleman. British lads - will read _The Bravest of the Brave_ with pleasure and profit; of that - we are quite sure.”--_Daily Telegraph._ - -=For Name and Fame=: or, Through Afghan Passes. By G. A. HENTY. -Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. 5_s._ - - “Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of - excitement of a campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account - of a territory and its inhabitants which must for a long time possess - a supreme interest for Englishmen, as being the key to our Indian - Empire.”--_Glasgow Herald._ - -=A Jacobite Exile=: Being the Adventures of a Young Englishman in -the Service of Charles XII. of Sweden. By G. A. HENTY. With 8 page -Illustrations by PAUL HARDY, and a Map. 5_s._ - - “Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, - and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced - breathless enjoyment in a romantic story that must have taught him - much at its close.”--_Army and Navy Gazette._ - -=Held Fast for England=: A Tale of the Siege of Gibraltar. By G. A. -HENTY. Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. 5_s._ - - “Among them we would place first in interest and wholesome educational - value the story of the siege of Gibraltar.... There is no cessation of - exciting incident throughout the story.”--_Athenæum._ - - “Mr. Henty’s books are always alive with moving incident.”--_Review of - Reviews._ - - _In crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - -=Condemned as a Nihilist=: A Story of Escape from Siberia. By G. A. -HENTY. Illustrated by WALTER PAGET. 5_s._ - - “The best of this year’s Henty. His narrative is more interesting than - many of the tales with which the public is familiar, of escape from - Siberia. Despite their superior claim to authenticity these tales are - without doubt no less fictitious than Mr. Henty’s, and he beats them - hollow in the matter of sensations.”--_National Observer._ - -=Orange and Green=: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick. By G. A. HENTY. -Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. 5_s._ - - “The narrative is free from the vice of prejudice, and ripples with - life as vivacious as if what is being described were really passing - before the eye.... Should be in the hands of every young student of - Irish history.”--_Belfast News._ - -=In the Reign of Terror=: The Adventures of a Westminster Boy. By G. A. -HENTY. Illustrated by J. SCHÖNBERG. 5_s._ - - “Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat Mr. - Henty’s record. His adventures will delight boys by the audacity and - peril they depict. The story is one of Mr. Henty’s best.”--_Saturday - Review._ - -=By Sheer Pluck=: A Tale of the Ashanti War. By G. A. HENTY. With 8 -full-page Pictures by GORDON BROWNE. 5_s._ - - “Morally, the book is everything that could be desired, setting - before the boys a bright and bracing ideal of the English - gentleman.”--_Christian Leader._ - -=The Dragon and the Raven=: or, The Days of King Alfred. By G. A. -HENTY. With 8 page Illustrations by C. J. STANILAND, R.I. 5_s._ - - “A story that may justly be styled remarkable. Boys, in reading it, - will be surprised to find how Alfred persevered, through years of - bloodshed and times of peace, to rescue his people from the thraldom - of the Danes. We hope the book will soon be widely known in all our - schools.”--_Schoolmaster._ - -=A Final Reckoning=: A Tale of Bush Life in Australia. By G. A. HENTY. -Illustrated by W. B. WOLLEN. 5_s._ - - “All boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. - The episodes are in Mr. Henty’s very best vein--graphic, exciting, - realistic; and, as in all Mr. Henty’s books, the tendency is - to the formation of an honourable, manly, and even heroic - character.”--_Birmingham Post._ - -=The Young Colonists=: A Tale of the Zulu and Boer Wars. By G. A. -HENTY. With 6 Illustrations by SIMON H. VEDDER. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “Fiction and history are so happily blended that the record of - facts quicken the imagination. No boy can read this book without - learning a great deal of South African history at its most critical - period.”--_Standard._ - -=A Chapter of Adventures=: or, Through the Bombardment of Alexandria. -By G. A. HENTY. With 6 page Illustrations by W. H. OVEREND. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “Jack Robson and his two companions have their fill of excitement, and - their chapter of adventures is so brisk and entertaining we could have - wished it longer than it is.”--_Saturday Review._ - - - - - BY PROFESSOR A. J. CHURCH. - - “That prince of winning story-tellers, and master of musical - English.”--_Expository Times._ - - _In crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges._ - - -=Lords of the World=: A Tale of the Fall of Carthage and Corinth. By A. -J. CHURCH. With 12 page Illustrations by RALPH PEACOCK. 6_s._ - - “Mr. Church’s mastery of his subject and his literary skill are - sufficiently complete to carry his adult readers with him. Some of - the scenes are highly picturesque, and there is many an exciting - adventure that sustains the reader’s curiosity in the fortunes of the - hero, Cleanor. As a boys’ book, _Lords of the World_ deserves a hearty - welcome.”--_Spectator._ - - [Illustration: _Reduced Illustration from “Lords of the World”._] - -=Two Thousand Years Ago=: or, The Adventures of a Roman Boy. By -Professor A. J. CHURCH. With 12 page Illustrations by ADRIEN MARIE. -6_s._ - - “Adventures well worth the telling. The book is extremely entertaining - as well as useful, and there is a wonderful freshness in the Roman - scenes and characters.”--_The Times._ - - - - - BY HERBERT HAYENS. - - -=Paris at Bay=: A Story of the Siege and the Commune. By HERBERT -HAYENS. With 8 page Illustrations by STANLEY L. WOOD. 5_s._ - - “The story culminates in the terrible struggle between the - Versaillists and the men who follow the red flag. Mr. Hayens holds the - balance with commendable impartiality. He loves to describe a good - soldier on whichever side he may fight. Altogether _Paris at Bay_ is - of more than average merit.”--_Spectator._ - - - - - BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. - - “Mr. Fenn stands in the foremost rank of writers in this - department.”--_Daily News._ - - _In crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - - -=Dick o’ the Fens=: A Romance of the Great East Swamp. By G. MANVILLE -FENN. Illustrated by FRANK DADD. 6_s._ - - “We conscientiously believe that boys will find it capital reading. - It is full of incident and mystery, and the mystery is kept up to the - last moment. It is rich in effective local colouring; and it has a - historical interest.”--_Times._ - -=Devon Boys=: A Tale of the North Shore. By G. MANVILLE FENN. With 12 -page Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 6_s._ - - “An admirable story, as remarkable for the individuality of its - young heroes as for the excellent descriptions of coast scenery and - life in North Devon. It is one of the best books we have seen this - season.”--_Athenæum._ - -=The Golden Magnet=: A Tale of the Land of the Incas. By G. MANVILLE -FENN. Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. 6_s._ - - “There could be no more welcome present for a boy. There is not a dull - page in the book, and many will be read with breathless interest. ‘The - Golden Magnet’ is, of course, the same one that attracted Raleigh and - the heroes of _Westward Ho!_”--_Journal of Education._ - -=In the King’s Name=: or, The Cruise of the _Kestrel_. By G. MANVILLE -FENN. Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. 6_s._ - - “The best of all Mr. Fenn’s productions in this field. It has the - great quality of always ‘moving on’, adventure following adventure in - constant succession.”--_Daily News._ - -=Nat the Naturalist=: A Boy’s Adventures in the Eastern Seas. By G. -MANVILLE FENN. With 8 page Pictures. 5_s._ - - “This sort of book encourages independence of character, develops - resource, and teaches a boy to keep his eyes open.”--_Saturday Review._ - -=Bunyip Land=: The Story of a Wild Journey in New Guinea. By G. -MANVILLE FENN. Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. 4_s._ - - “Mr. Fenn deserves the thanks of everybody for Bunyip Land, and we - may venture to promise that a quiet week may be reckoned on whilst - the youngsters have such fascinating literature provided for their - evenings’ amusement.”--_Spectator._ - -=Quicksilver=: or, A Boy with no Skid to his Wheel. By GEORGE MANVILLE -FENN. With 6 page Illustrations by FRANK DADD. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “_Quicksilver_ is little short of an inspiration. In it that prince of - story-writers for boys--George Manville Fenn--has surpassed himself. - It is an ideal book for a boy’s library.”--_Practical Teacher._ - -=Brownsmith’s Boy=: A Romance in a Garden. By G. MANVILLE FENN. With 6 -page Illustrations. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “Mr. Fenn’s books are among the best, if not altogether the best, - of the stories for boys. Mr. Fenn is at his best in _Brownsmith’s - Boy_.”--_Pictorial World._ - - - ⁂ For other Books by G. MANVILLE FENN, see page 22. - - - - - BY GEORGE MAC DONALD. - - “Dr. George Mac Donald is one of the cleverest of writers for - children.”--_The Record._ - - _In crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - - -=A Rough Shaking.= By GEORGE MAC DONALD. With 12 page Illustrations by -W. PARKINSON. 6_s._ - - “One of the very best books for boys that has been written. It is - full of material peculiarly well adapted for the young, containing in - a marked degree the elements of all that is necessary to make up a - perfect boys’ book.”--_Teachers’ Aid._ - -=At the Back of the North Wind.= By GEORGE MAC DONALD. With 75 -Illustrations by ARTHUR HUGHES. 5_s._ - - “The story is thoroughly original, full of fancy and pathos.... We - stand with one foot in fairyland and one on common earth.”--_The - Times._ - -=Ranald Bannerman’s Boyhood.= By GEO. MAC DONALD. With 36 Illustrations -by ARTHUR HUGHES. 5_s._ - - “The sympathy with boy-nature in _Ranald Bannerman’s Boyhood_ is - perfect. It is a beautiful picture of childhood, teaching by its - impressions and suggestions all noble things.”--_British Quarterly - Review._ - -=The Princess and the Goblin.= By GEORGE MAC DONALD. With 32 -Illustrations. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “Little of what is written for children has the lightness of touch and - play of fancy which are characteristic of George Mac Donald’s fairy - tales. Mr. Arthur Hughes’s illustrations are all that illustrations - should be.”--_Manchester Guardian._ - -=The Princess and Curdie.= By GEORGE MAC DONALD. With 8 page -Illustrations. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “There is the finest and rarest genius in this brilliant story. - Upgrown people would do wisely occasionally to lay aside their - newspapers and magazines to spend an hour with _Curdie_ and the - _Princess_.”--_Sheffield Independent._ - - - - - BY ASCOTT R. HOPE. - - “Such is the charm of Mr. Hope’s narrative that it is impossible to - begin one of his tales without finishing it.”--_St. James’s Gazette._ - - -=The Seven Wise Scholars.= By ASCOTT R. HOPE. With nearly 100 -Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 5_s._ - - “As full of fun as a volume of _Punch_; with illustrations, - more laughter-provoking than most we have seen since Leech - died.”--_Sheffield Independent._ - -=Stories of Old Renown=: Tales of Knights and Heroes. By A. R. HOPE. -With 100 Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “A really fascinating book worthy of its telling title. There is, we - venture to say, not a dull page in the book, not a story which will - not bear a second reading.”--_Guardian._ - -=Young Travellers’ Tales.= By ASCOTT R. HOPE. With 6 Illustrations by -H. J. DRAPER. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “Possess a high value for instruction as well as for entertainment. - His quiet, level humour bubbles up on every page.”--_Daily Chronicle._ - - - - - BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD. - - “As a story-teller Mr. Collingwood is not surpassed.”--_Spectator._ - - _In crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - - -=The Log of a Privateersman.= By HARRY COLLINGWOOD. With 12 page -Illustrations by W. RAINEY, R.I. 6_s._ - - “The narrative is breezy, vivid, and full of incidents, faithful in - nautical colouring, and altogether delightful.”--_Pall Mall Gazette._ - -=The Pirate Island.= By HARRY COLLINGWOOD. With 8 page Pictures by C. -J. STANILAND and J. R. WELLS. 5_s._ - - “A capital story of the sea; indeed in our opinion the author is - superior in some respects as a marine novelist to the better-known Mr. - Clark Russell.”--_The Times._ - -=The Log of the “Flying Fish”=: A Story of Aerial and Submarine -Adventure. By HARRY COLLINGWOOD. With 6 page Illustrations by GORDON -BROWNE. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “The _Flying Fish_ actually surpasses all Jules Verne’s creations; - with incredible speed she flies through the air, skims over the - surface of the water, and darts along the ocean bed. We strongly - recommend our schoolboy friends to possess themselves of her - log.”--_Athenæum._ - - ⁂ For other Books by Harry Collingwood, see pages 22 and 23. - - - - - BY KIRK MUNROE. - - “Captain Mayne Reid and Gustave Aimard find a worthy successor in Mr. - Kirk Munroe.”--_St. James’s Gazette._ - - -=With Crockett and Bowie=: A Tale of Texas. By KIRK MUNROE. With 8 page -Illustrations by VICTOR PERARD. 5_s._ - - “Mr. Munroe has constructed his plot with undoubted skill, and his - descriptions of the combats between the Texans and the Mexicans are - brilliantly _graphic_. This is in every sense one of the best books - for boys that has been produced this season.”--_Spectator._ - -=Through Swamp and Glade=: A Tale of the Seminole War. By KIRK MUNROE. -With 8 Illustrations by VICTOR PERARD. 5_s._ - - “The hero of _Through Swamp and Glade_ will find many ardent - champions, and the name of Coachoochie become as familiar in the - schoolboy’s ear as that of the headmaster.”--_St. James’s Gazette._ - -=At War with Pontiac=: or, The Totem of the Bear. By KIRK MUNROE. With -8 Illustrations by J. FINNEMORE. 5_s._ - - “Is in the best manner of Cooper. There is a character who is the - parallel of Hawkeye, as the Chingachgooks and Uncas have likewise - their counterparts.”--_The Times._ - -=The White Conquerors of Mexico=: A Tale of Toltec and Aztec. By KIRK -MUNROE. With 8 Illustrations by W. S. STACEY. 5_s._ - - “Mr. Munroe gives most vivid pictures of the religious and civil - polity of the Aztecs, and of everyday life, as he imagines it, - in the streets and market-places of the magnificent capital of - Montezuma.”--_The Times._ - - - - - FINELY ILLUSTRATED BOOKS FOR CHILDREN. - - -=Red Apple and Silver Bells=: a Book of Verse for Children of all Ages. -By HAMISH HENDRY. With over 150 charming Illustrations by Miss ALICE B. -WOODWARD. Square 8vo, cloth elegant, gilt edges, 6_s._ - - “Mr. Hendry sees the world as children see it, and he writes - charmingly and musically about it; many, indeed most, of his verses - are delightful in all respects--childish, but not silly; funny, - but not foolish; and sweet without being goody. Miss Woodward’s - designs are just what the verses require, and they are carefully and - delicately drawn and exquisitely finished after nature; consequently - they are beautiful.”--_Athenæum._ - -=Just Forty Winks=: or, The Droll Adventures of Davie Trot. By HAMISH -HENDRY. With 70 humorous Illustrations by GERTRUDE M. BRADLEY. Square -8vo, cloth elegant, gilt edges, 5_s._ - - “Daintily illustrated; _Just Forty Winks_ is an eye-opener for the - little ones, who will enjoy the amazing adventures of _Davie Trot_ - down the long lane that has so many turns in dreamland.”--_Punch._ - - “_Just Forty Winks_ is full of high spirits and most excellent - invention.”--_Spectator._ - -=To Tell the King the Sky is Falling.= By SHEILA E. BRAINE. With over -80 quaint and clever Illustrations by ALICE B. WOODWARD. Square 8vo, -cloth, decorated boards, gilt edges, 5_s._ - - “It is witty and ingenious, and it has certain qualities which - children are quick to perceive and appreciate--a genuine love of fun, - affectionateness, and sympathy, from their points of view.”--_Bookman._ - - - - - BOOKS FOR GIRLS. - - _In crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - - -=Banshee Castle.= By ROSA MULHOLLAND (Lady Gilbert). With 12 page -Illustrations by JOHN H. BACON. 6_s._ - - “One of the most fascinating of Miss Rosa Mulholland’s many - fascinating stories.”--_Athenæum._ - -=Giannetta.= By ROSA MULHOLLAND (Lady Gilbert). With 8 page -Illustrations by LOCKHART BOGLE. 5_s._ - - “One of the most attractive gift-books of the season.”--_The Academy._ - -=A Girl’s Loyalty.= By FRANCES ARMSTRONG. With 8 page Illustrations by -JOHN H. BACON. 5_s._ - - “There is no doubt as to the good quality of _A Girl’s Loyalty_. The - book is one which would enrich any girl’s book-shelf.”--_St. James’s - Gazette._ - -=A Fair Claimant=: Being a Story for Girls. By FRANCES ARMSTRONG. -Illustrated by GERTRUDE D. HAMMOND. 5_s._ - - “As a gift-book for big girls it is among the best new books of - the kind. The story is interesting and natural, from first to - last.”--_Westminster Gazette._ - - [Illustration] - -=Adventures in Toyland.= By EDITH KING HALL. With 8 page Pictures -printed in Colour, and 70 Black-and-White Illustrations throughout the -text, by ALICE B. WOODWARD. Crown 4to, decorated cloth boards, gilt -edges, 5_s._ - - “One of the funniest as well as one of the daintiest books of the - season. The Adventures are graphically described in a very humorous - way.”--_Pall Mall Gazette._ - - “The story is a capital ‘make-believe’, and exhibits real knowledge on - the part of both author and illustrator of what children want, as well - as an unusual power of supplying it.”--_Literature._ - - - - - BY ROBERT LEIGHTON. - - “Mr. Robert Leighton has taken a place in the very front rank of the - writers of stories for boys.”--_Daily Graphic._ - - _In crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges._ - - -=The Golden Galleon=: A Narrative of the Adventures of Master Gilbert -Oglander, under the gallant Sir Richard Grenville in the great -sea-fight off Flores. By ROBERT LEIGHTON. With 8 page Illustrations by -WILLIAM RAINEY, R.I. 5_s._ - - “The story itself is a capital one, but the chief merit lies in the - telling. It presents an excellent picture of life in England, both on - land and sea, in the days of Elizabeth.”--_Standard._ - -=Olaf the Glorious.= By ROBERT LEIGHTON. With 8 page Illustrations by -RALPH PEACOCK, and a Map. 5_s._ - - “Is as good as anything of the kind we have met with. Mr. Leighton - more than holds his own with Rider Haggard and Baring-Gould.”--_The - Times._ - -=The Wreck of “The Golden Fleece”=: The story of a North Sea -Fisher-boy. By ROBERT LEIGHTON. With 8 page Illustrations by F. -BRANGWYN. 5_s._ - - “This story should add considerably to Mr. Leighton’s high reputation. - Excellent in every respect, it contains every variety of incident. The - plot is very cleverly devised, and the types of the North Sea sailors - are capital.”--_The Times._ - -=The Pilots of Pomona=: A Story of the Orkney Islands. By ROBERT -LEIGHTON. Illustrated by JOHN LEIGHTON. 5_s._ - - “A story which is quite as good in its way as _Treasure Island_, and - is full of adventure of a stirring yet most natural kind. Although - it is primarily a boys’ book, it is a real godsend to the elderly - reader.”--_Glasgow Evening Times._ - -=The Thirsty Sword=: A Story of the Norse Invasion of Scotland -(1262-63). By ROBERT LEIGHTON. With 8 page Illustrations by A. PEARSE. -5_s._ - - “This is one of the most fascinating stories for boys that it has - ever been our pleasure to read. From first to last the interest never - flags.”--_Schoolmaster._ - - * * * * * - -=The Clever Miss Follett.= By J. K. H. DENNY. With 12 page -Illustrations by GERTRUDE D. HAMMOND. 6_s._ - - “Just the book to give to girls, who will delight both in the - letterpress and the illustrations. Miss Hammond has never done better - work.”--_Review of Reviews._ - - * * * * * - -=The Heiress of Courtleroy.= By ANNE BEALE. With 8 page Illustrations -by T. C. H. CASTLE. 5_s._ - - “We can speak highly of the grace with which Miss Beale relates how - the young ‘Heiress of Courtleroy’ had such good influence over her - uncle as to win him from his intensely selfish ways.”--_Guardian._ - - - - - _TWELFTH EDITION OF THE UNIVERSE._ - - -=The Universe=: or, The Infinitely Great and the Infinitely Little. A -Sketch of Contrasts in Creation, and Marvels revealed and explained by -Natural Science. By F. A. POUCHET, M.D. With 272 Engravings on wood, -of which 55 are full-page size, and 4 Coloured Illustrations. _Twelfth -Edition_, medium 8vo, cloth elegant, gilt edges, 7_s._ 6_d._; also -morocco antique, 16_s._ - - “Dr. Pouchet’s wonderful work on _The Universe_, than which there is - no book better calculated to encourage the study of nature.”--_Pall - Mall Gazette._ - - “We know no better book of the kind for a schoolroom - library.”--_Bookman._ - - - - - BY G. NORWAY. - - _In crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - - -=A Prisoner of War=: A Story of the Time of Napoleon Bonaparte. By G. -NORWAY. With 6 page Illustrations by ROBT. BARNES, A.R.W.S. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “More hairbreadth escapes from death by starvation, by ice, by - fighting, &c., were never before surmounted.... It is a fine - yarn.”--_The Guardian._ - -=A True Cornish Maid.= By G. NORWAY. With 6 page Illustrations by J. -FINNEMORE. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “There is some excellent reading.... Mrs. Norway brings before the - eyes of her readers the good Cornish folk, their speech, their - manners, and their ways. _A True Cornish Maid_ deserves to be - popular.”--_Athenæum._ - - ⁂ For other Books by G. NORWAY see p. 23. - - * * * * * - -=Under False Colours=: A Story from Two Girls’ Lives. By SARAH DOUDNEY. -Illustrated by G. G. KILBURNE. 4_s._ - - “Sarah Doudney has no superior as a writer of high-toned stories--pure - in style and original in conception; but we have seen nothing from her - pen equal in dramatic energy to this book.”--_Christian Leader._ - -=With the Sea Kings=: A Story of the Days of Lord Nelson. By F. H. -WINDER. Illustrated by W. S. STACEY. 4_s._ - - “Just the book to put into a boy’s hands. Every chapter contains - boardings, cuttings out, fighting pirates, escapes of thrilling - audacity, and captures by corsairs, sufficient to turn the quietest - boy’s head. The story culminates in a vigorous account of the battle - of Trafalgar. Happy boys!”--_The Academy._ - -=Dr. Jolliffe’s Boys=: A Tale of Weston School. By LEWIS HOUGH. With 6 -page Pictures. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “Young people who appreciate _Tom Brown’s School-days_ will find - this story a worthy companion to that fascinating book.”--_Newcastle - Journal._ - -=Dora=: or, A Girl without a Home. By Mrs. R. H. READ. With 6 page -Illustrations by PAUL HARDY. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “It is no slight thing, in an age of rubbish, to get a story so pure - and healthy as this.”--_The Academy._ - - - - - BY DR. GORDON STABLES, R.N. - - “In all Dr. Gordon Stables’ books for boys we are sure to find - a wholesome tone, plenty of instruction, and abundance of - adventure.”--_Saturday Review._ - - _In crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - - -=The Naval Cadet.= By GORDON STABLES, C.M., M.D., R.N. With 6 page -Illustrations by WILLIAM RAINEY, R.I. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “A really interesting travellers’ tale, with plenty of fun and - incident in it.”--_Spectator._ - - “Love and war and ‘gun-room fun’ combine to make the history of _The - Naval Cadet_ a very readable book.”--_Literature._ - -=For Life and Liberty.= By GORDON STABLES, C.M., M.D., R.N. With 8 -Illustrations by SYDNEY PAGET, and a Map. 5_s._ - - “The story is lively and spirited, with abundance of blockade-running, - hard fighting, narrow escapes, and introductions to some of the most - distinguished generals on both sides.”--_The Times._ - -=To Greenland and the Pole.= By GORDON STABLES, C.M., M.D., R.N. With 8 -page Illustrations by G. C. HINDLEY, and a Map. 5_s._ - - “His Arctic explorers have the verisimilitude of life. It is one of - the books of the season, and one of the best Mr. Stables has ever - written.”--_Truth._ - -=Westward with Columbus.= By GORDON STABLES, C.M., M.D., R.N. With 8 -page Illustrations by A. PEARSE. 5_s._ - - “We must place _Westward with Columbus_ among those books that all - boys ought to read.”--_The Spectator._ - -=’Twixt School and College=: A Tale of Self-reliance. By GORDON -STABLES, C.M., M.D., R.N. Illustrated by W. PARKINSON. 5_s._ - - “One of the best of a prolific writer’s books for boys, and inculcates - the virtue of self-reliance.”--_Athenæum._ - - - - - BY HUGH ST. LEGER. - - -=An Ocean Outlaw=: A Story of Adventure in the good ship _Margaret_. -With Illustrations by WILLIAM RAINEY, R.I. 4_s._ - - “We know no modern boys’ book in which there is more sound, hearty, - good-humoured fun, or of which the tone is more wholesome and bracing - than Mr. St. Leger’s.”--_National Observer._ - -=Hallowe’en Ahoy!= or, Lost on the Crozet Islands. By HUGH ST. LEGER. -With 6 Illustrations by H. J. DRAPER. 4_s._ - - “One of the best stories of seafaring life and adventure which - have appeared this season. No boy who begins it but will wish to - join the _Britannia_ long before he finishes these delightful - pages.”--_Academy._ - -=Sou’wester and Sword.= By HUGH ST. LEGER. With 6 page Illustrations by -HAL HURST. 4_s._ - - “As racy a tale of life at sea and war adventure as we have met with - for some time.... Altogether the sort of book that boys will revel - in.”--_Athenæum._ - - - - - BY CHARLES W. WHISTLER. - - “Historical tales are always welcome when they are told by such a - prince of story-tellers as Mr. CHARLES W. WHISTLER.”--_The Record._ - - - _In crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - -=King Olaf’s Kinsman=: A Story of the Last Saxon Struggle against the -Danes. By CHARLES W. WHISTLER. With 6 page Illustrations by W. H. -MARGETSON. 4_s._ - - “Mr. Whistler’s story is in fine an excellent one--worthy to rank with - some of R. L. Stevenson’s tales for boys.”--_St. James’s Gazette._ - -=Wulfric the Weapon-Thane=: The Story of the Danish Conquest of -East Anglia. By CHARLES W. WHISTLER. With 6 Illustrations by W. H. -MARGETSON. 4_s._ - - “A picturesque and energetic story. A worthy companion to his capital - story, _A Thane of Wessex_. One that will delight all active-minded - boys.”--_Saturday Review._ - -=A Thane of Wessex=: Being the Story of the Great Viking Raid of 845. -By CHARLES W. WHISTLER. With 6 Illustrations by W. H. MARGETSON. 3_s._ -6_d._ - - “The story is told with spirit and force, and affords an excellent - picture of the life of the period.”--_Standard._ - - * * * * * - -=Grettir the Outlaw=: A Story of Iceland. By S. BARING-GOULD. With 6 -page Illustrations by M. ZENO DIEMER. 4_s._ - -=A Champion of the Faith=: A Tale of Prince Hal and the Lollards. By J. -M. CALLWELL. With 6 page Illustrations by HERBERT J. DRAPER. 4_s._ - - * * * * * - -=Meg’s Friend.= By ALICE CORKRAN. With 6 page Illustrations by ROBERT -FOWLER. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “One of Miss Corkran’s charming books for girls, narrated in that - simple and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of the - first amongst writers for young people.”--_The Spectator._ - -=Margery Merton’s Girlhood.= By ALICE CORKRAN. With 6 page Pictures by -GORDON BROWNE. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “Another book for girls we can warmly commend. There is a delightful - piquancy in the experiences and trials of a young English girl who - studies painting in Paris.”--_Saturday Review._ - -=Down the Snow Stairs=: or, From Good-night to Good-morning. By ALICE -CORKRAN. Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “A gem of the first water, bearing upon every page the mark of genius. - It is indeed a Little Pilgrim’s Progress.”--_Christian Leader._ - - * * * * * - -=Gold, Gold, in Cariboo.= By CLIVE PHILLIPPS-WOLLEY. With 6 page -Illustrations by G. C. HINDLEY. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “We have seldom read a more exciting tale. There is a capital plot, - and the interest is sustained to the last page.”--_The Times._ - - - - - BY ANNIE E. ARMSTRONG. - - - _In crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - -=Violet Vereker’s Vanity.= By ANNIE E. ARMSTRONG. With 6 page -Illustrations by G. DEMAIN HAMMOND, R.I. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “A book for girls that we can heartily recommend, for it is bright, - sensible, and with a right tone of thought and feeling.”--_Sheffield - Independent._ - -=Three Bright Girls=: A Story of Chance and Mischance. By ANNIE E. -ARMSTRONG. Illustrated by W. PARKINSON. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “Among many good stories for girls this is undoubtedly one of the very - best.”--_Teachers’ Aid._ - -=A Very Odd Girl=: or, Life at the Gabled Farm. By ANNIE E. ARMSTRONG. -Illustrated. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “The book is one we can heartily recommend, for it is not only - bright and interesting, but also pure and healthy in tone and - teaching.”--_The Lady._ - - * * * * * - -=The Captured Cruiser.= By C. J. HYNE. Illustrated by FRANK BRANGWYN. -3_s._ 6_d._ - - “The two lads and the two skippers are admirably drawn. Mr. Hyne has - now secured a position in the first rank of writers of fiction for - boys.”--_Spectator._ - - * * * * * - -=Afloat at Last=: A Sailor Boy’s Log of his Life at Sea. By JOHN C. -HUTCHESON. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “As healthy and breezy a book as one could wish to put into the hands - of a boy.”--_Academy._ - - * * * * * - -=Brother and Sister=: or, The Trials of the Moore Family. By ELIZABETH -J. LYSAGHT. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - * * * * * - -=Storied Holidays=: A Cycle of Red-letter Days. By E. S. BROOKS. With -12 page Illustrations by HOWARD PYLE. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “It is a downright good book for a senior boy, and is eminently - readable from first to last.”--_Schoolmaster._ - -=Chivalric Days=: Stories of Courtesy and Courage in the Olden Times. -By E. S. BROOKS. With 20 Illustrations. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “We have seldom come across a prettier collection of tales. These - charming stories of boys and girls of olden days are no mere - fictitious or imaginary sketches, but are real and actual records of - their sayings and doings.”--_Literary World._ - -=Historic Boys=: Their Endeavours, their Achievements, and their Times. -By E. S. BROOKS. With 12 page Illustrations. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “A wholesome book, manly in tone; altogether one that should - incite boys to further acquaintance with those rulers of men whose - careers are narrated. We advise teachers to put it on their list of - prizes.”--_Knowledge._ - - - - - BY EDGAR PICKERING. - - - _In crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - -=A Stout English Bowman.= By EDGAR PICKERING. With 6 page Illustrations -by WALTER S. STACEY. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “A vivid romance of the times of Henry III. In drawing the various - pictures of this age of chivalry Mr. Pickering has caught the true - spirit of the period, and never once does he forget that he is writing - the sayings and doings of a past age.”--_Public Opinion._ - -=Two Gallant Rebels.= By EDGAR PICKERING. With 6 Illustrations by W. H. -OVEREND. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “There is something very attractive about Mr. Pickering’s style.... - Boys will relish the relation of those dreadful and moving events, - which, indeed, will never lose their fascination for readers of all - ages.”--_The Spectator._ - -=In Press-Gang Days.= By EDGAR PICKERING. With 6 Illustrations by W. S. -STACEY. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “It is of Marryat we think as we read this delightful story; - for it is not only a story of adventure with incidents well - conceived and arranged, but the characters are interesting and - well-distinguished.”--_Academy._ - -=An Old-Time Yarn.= By EDGAR PICKERING. Illustrated by ALFRED PEARSE. -3_s._ 6_d._ - - “And a very good yarn it is, with not a dull page from first to - last. There is a flavour of _Westward Ho!_ in this attractive - book.”--_Educational Review._ - -=Silas Verney=: A Tale of the Time of Charles II. By EDGAR PICKERING. -With 6 page Illustrations by ALFRED PEARSE. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - “Altogether this is an excellent story for boys.”--_Saturday Review._ - - * * * * * - -=His First Kangaroo=: An Australian Story for Boys. By ARTHUR FERRES. -Illustrated by PERCY F. S. SPENCE. 3_s._ 6_d._ - - - - - BLACKIE’S NEW THREE-SHILLING SERIES. - - - _In crown 8vo. Beautifully illustrated and handsomely bound._ - -=Highways and High Seas=: By F. FRANKFORT MOORE. With 6 page -Illustrations by ALFRED PEARSE. 3_s._ - - “This is one of the best stories Mr. Moore has written, perhaps - the very best. The exciting adventures are sure to attract - boys.”--_Spectator._ - -=Under Hatches=: or, Ned Woodthorpe’s Adventures. By F. FRANKFORT -MOORE. Illustrated by A. FORESTIER. 3_s._ - - “The story as a story is one that will just suit boys all the world - over. The characters are well drawn and consistent.”--_Schoolmaster._ - -=The Missing Merchantman.= By HARRY COLLINGWOOD. With 6 page -Illustrations by W. H. OVEREND. 3_s._ - - “One of the author’s best sea stories. The hero is as heroic as any - boy could desire, and the ending is extremely happy.”--_British - Weekly._ - -=Menhardoc=: A Story of Cornish Nets and Mines. By G. MANVILLE FENN. -Illustrated by C. J. STANILAND, R.I. 3_s._ - - “The Cornish fishermen are drawn from life, and stand out from the - pages in their jerseys and sea-boots all sprinkled with silvery - pilchard scales.”--_Spectator._ - -=Yussuf the Guide=: or, The Mountain Bandits. By G. MANVILLE FENN. With -6 page Illustrations by J. SCHÖNBERG. 3_s._ - - “Told with such real freshness and vigour that the reader feels he - is actually one of the party, sharing in the fun and facing the - dangers.”--_Pall Mall Gazette._ - -=Patience Wins=: or, War in the Works. By GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. With 6 -page Illustrations. 3_s._ - - “Mr. Fenn has never hit upon a happier plan than in writing this - story of Yorkshire factory life. The whole book is all aglow with - life.”--_Pall Mall Gazette._ - -=Mother Carey’s Chicken.= By G. MANVILLE FENN. With 6 page -Illustrations by A. FORESTIER. 3_s._ - - “The incidents are of thrilling interest, while the characters - are drawn with a care and completeness rarely found in a boys’ - book.”--_Literary World._ - -=Robinson Crusoe.= With 100 Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 3_s._ - - “One of the best issues, if not absolutely the best, of Defoe’s work - which has ever appeared.”--_The Standard._ - -=Perseverance Island=: or, The Robinson Crusoe of the 19th Century. By -DOUGLAS FRAZAR. With 6 page Illustrations. 3_s._ - -=Gulliver’s Travels.= With 100 Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 3_s._ - - “Mr. Gordon Browne is, to my thinking, incomparably the most artistic, - spirited, and brilliant of our illustrators of books for boys, and one - of the most humorous also, as his illustrations of ‘Gulliver’ amply - testify.”--_Truth._ - -=The Wigwam and the War-path=: Stories of the Red Indians. By ASCOTT R. -HOPE. With 6 page Illustrations. 3_s._ - - “Is notably good. It gives a very vivid picture of life - among the Indians, which will delight the heart of many a - schoolboy.”--_Spectator._ - -=The Loss of John Humble=: What Led to It, and What Came of It. By G. -NORWAY. With 6 page Illustrations by JOHN SCHÖNBERG, 3_s._ - - “Full of life and adventure. The interest of the story is sustained - without a break from first to last.”--_Standard._ - -=Hussein the Hostage.= By G. NORWAY. With 6 page Illustrations by JOHN -SCHÖNBERG. 3_s._ - - “_Hussein the Hostage_ is full of originality and vigour. The - characters are lifelike, there is plenty of stirring incident, and the - interest is sustained throughout.”--_Journal of Education._ - -=Cousin Geoffrey and I.= By CAROLINE AUSTIN. With 6 page Illustrations -by W. PARKINSON. 3_s._ - - “Miss Austin’s story is bright, clever, and well - developed.”--_Saturday Review._ - -[Illustration: _Reduced Illustration from “Cousin Geoffrey”._] - -=Girl Neighbours=: or, The Old Fashion and the New. By SARAH TYTLER. -Illustrated by C. T. GARLAND. 3_s._ - - “One of the most effective and quietly humorous of Miss Sarah - Tytler’s stories. It is very healthy, very agreeable, and very well - written.”--_The Spectator._ - -=The Rover’s Secret=: a Tale of the Pirate Cays and Lagoons of Cuba. By -HARRY COLLINGWOOD. With 6 page Illustrations by W. C. SYMONS. 3_s._ - - “_The Rover’s Secret_ is by far the best sea story we have read for - years, and is certain to give unalloyed pleasure to boys.”--_Saturday - Review._ - -=The Congo Rovers=: A Story of the Slave Squadron. By HARRY -COLLINGWOOD. With 6 page Illustrations. 3_s._ - - “No better sea story has lately been written than the _Congo Rovers_. - It is as original as any boy could desire.”--_Morning Post._ - - - - -BLACKIE’S HALF-CROWN SERIES. - - _Illustrated by eminent Artists. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - -=A Daughter of Erin.= By VIOLET G. FINNY. - - “Extremely well written; the characters are cleverly drawn and - the individual interest sustained to the end. It is a book we can - thoroughly recommend, not only to girls, but to all who like a - well-written healthy toned story.”--_St. James’s Gazette._ - -=Nell’s School-days.= By H. F. GETHEN. - - “A simple and natural picture of young life, and inculcates - in an unostentatious way lessons of thoughtfulness and - kindness.”--_Spectator._ - -=The Luck of the Eardleys.= By SHEILA E. BRAINE. - - “One of the cleverest books we have read for a long time. The - authoress combines wit, humour, and pathos in a delightful manner, and - understands how to portray character, for all her men, women, boys and - girls glow with life and colour”--_The Record._ - -=Picked up at Sea=: or, The Gold Miners of Minturne Creek. By JOHN C. -HUTCHESON. - -=The Search for the Talisman=: A Story of Labrador. By HENRY FRITH. - - “We pity the boy who cannot read every page of this capital - story.”--_School Guardian._ - -=Marooned on Australia.= By ERNEST FAVENC. - - “A remarkably interesting and well-written story of travel and - adventure in the Great Southern Land.”--_School Guardian._ - -=The Secret of the Australian Desert.= By ERNEST FAVENC. - - “We recommend the book most heartily; it is certain to please boys and - girls, and even some grown-ups.”--_Guardian._ - -=My Friend Kathleen.= By JENNIE CHAPPELL. - -=A Girl’s Kingdom.= By M. CORBET-SEYMOUR. - - “The story is bright, well told, and thoroughly healthy and - good.”--_Ch. Bells._ - -=Laugh and Learn=: The Easiest Book of Nursery Lessons and Nursery -Games. By JENNETT HUMPHREYS. - - “One of the best books of the kind imaginable, full of practical - teaching in word and picture, and helping the little ones pleasantly - along a right royal road to learning.”--_Graphic._ - -=Reefer and Rifleman=: A Tale of the Two Services. By Lieut.-Col. -PERCY-GROVES. - -=A Musical Genius.= By the Author of the “Two Dorothys”. - - “It is brightly written, well illustrated, and daintily bound, and can - be strongly recommended as a really good prize-book.”--_Teachers’ Aid._ - -=For the Sake of a Friend=: A Story of School Life. By MARGARET PARKER. - - “An excellent school-girls’ story.”--_Athenæum._ - -=Things Will take a Turn.= By BEATRICE HARRADEN. With 44 Illustrations -by JOHN H. BACON. - - “Perhaps the most brilliant is _Things Will Take a Turn_.... It - is a delightful blending of comedy and tragedy, with an excellent - plot.”--_The Times._ - -[Illustration: _From “Things will Take a Turn”._ (_Reduced._)] - - * * * * * - -=Under the Black Eagle.= By ANDREW HILLIARD. - - “The rapid movement of the story, and the strange scenes through - which it passes, give it a full interest of surprise and - adventure.”--_Scotsman._ - -=A Golden Age.= By ISMAY THORN. Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. - - “Ought to have a place of honour on the nursery shelf.”--_The - Athenæum._ - -=Hal Hungerford.= By J. R. HUTCHINSON, B.A. - - “Altogether, _Hal Hungerford_ is a distinct literary - success.”--_Spectator._ - -=The Secret of the Old House.= By E. EVERETT-GREEN. - - “Tim, the little Jacobite, is a charming creation.”--_Academy._ - -=White Lilac=: or, The Queen of the May. By AMY WALTON. - - “Every rural parish ought to add _White Lilac_ to its - library.”--_Academy._ - -=The Whispering Winds=, and the Tales that they Told. By MARY H. -DEBENHAM. With 25 Illustrations by PAUL HARDY. - -=Miriam’s Ambition.= By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN. - - “Miss Green’s children are real British boys and girls.”--_Liverpool - Mercury._ - -=The Brig “Audacious”.= By ALAN COLE. - - “Fresh and wholesome as a breath of sea air.”--_Court Journal._ - -=Jasper’s Conquest.= By ELIZABETH J. LYSAGHT. - - “One of the best boys’ books of the season.”--_Schoolmaster._ - -=Little Lady Clare.= By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN. - - “Reminds us in its quaintness of Mrs. Ewing’s delightful - tales.”--_Liter. World._ - -=The Eversley Secrets.= By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN. - - “Roy Eversley is a very touching picture of high - principle.”--_Guardian._ - -=The Hermit Hunter of the Wilds.= By G. STABLES, R.N. - - “Will gladden the heart of many a bright boy.”--_Methodist Recorder._ - -=Sturdy and Strong.= By G. A. HENTY. - - “A hero who stands as a good instance of chivalry in domestic - life.”--_The Empire._ - -=Gutta-Percha Willie.= By GEORGE MAC DONALD. - - “Get it for your boys and girls to read for themselves.”--_Practical - Teacher._ - -=The War of the Axe=: or, Adventures in South Africa. By J. -PERCY-GROVES. - - “The story is well and brilliantly told.”--_Literary World._ - -=The Lads of Little Clayton.= By R. STEAD. - - “A capital book for boys.”--_Schoolmaster._ - -=Ten Boys.= By JANE ANDREWS. With 20 Illustrations. - - “The idea is a very happy one, and admirably carried out.”--_Practical - Teacher._ - -=A Waif of the Sea=: or, The Lost Found. By KATE WOOD. - - “Written with tenderness and grace.”--_Morning Advertiser._ - -=Winnie’s Secret.= By KATE WOOD. - - “One of the best story-books we have read.”--_Schoolmaster._ - -=Miss Willowburn’s Offer.= By SARAH DOUDNEY. - - “Patience Willowburn is one of Miss Doudney’s best - creations.”--_Spectator._ - -=A Garland for Girls.= By LOUISA M. ALCOTT. - - “These little tales are the beau ideal of girls’ stories.”--_Christian - World._ - -=Hetty Gray=: or, Nobody’s Bairn. By ROSA MULHOLLAND. - - “Hetty is a delightful creature--piquant, tender, and true.”--_World._ - -=Brothers in Arms.= By F. BAYFORD HARRISON. - - “Sure to prove interesting to young people of both sexes.”--_Guardian._ - -=Stimson’s Reef=: A Tale of Adventure. By C. J. HYNE. - -=Miss Fenwick’s Failures.= By ESMÉ STUART. - - “A girl true to real life, who will put no nonsense into young - heads.”--_Graphic._ - -=Gytha’s Message.= By EMMA LESLIE. - - “This is the sort of book that all girls like.”--_Journal of - Education._ - -=A Little Handful.= By HARRIET J. SCRIPPS. - - “He is a real type of a boy.”--_The Schoolmaster._ - -=Hammond’s Hard Lines.= By SKELTON KUPPORD. - - “It is just what a boy would choose if the selection of a story-book - is left in his own hand.”--_School Guardian._ - -=Dulcie King=: A Story for Girls. By M. CORBET-SEYMOUR. - -=Nicola=: The Career of a Girl Musician. By M. CORBET-SEYMOUR. - -=Hugh Herbert’s Inheritance.= By CAROLINE AUSTIN. - -=Jack o’ Lanthorn=: A Tale of Adventure. By HENRY FRITH. - -=A Rough Road=: or, How the Boy Made a Man of Himself. By Mrs. G. -LINNÆUS BANKS. - -=The Two Dorothys.= By Mrs. HERBERT MARTIN. - - “A book that will interest and please all girls.”--_The Lady._ - -[Illustration: _Reduced Illustration from, “A Girl in Spring-time”._] - -=My Mistress the Queen.= By M. A. PAULL. - -=The Stories of Wasa and Menzikoff.= - -=Stories of the Sea in Former Days.= - -=Tales of Captivity and Exile.= - -=Famous Discoveries by Sea and Land.= - -=Stirring Events of History.= - -=Adventures in Field, Flood, and Forest.= - -=A Cruise in Cloudland.= By HENRY FRITH. - -=Marian and Dorothy.= By ANNIE E. ARMSTRONG. - -=Gladys Anstruther.= By LOUISA THOMPSON. - - - - -BLACKIE’S TWO-SHILLING SERIES. - - -_Illustrated by eminent Artists. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - -=Tommy the Adventurous.= By S. E. CARTWRIGHT. - -=Some Other Children.= By H. F. GETHEN. - -=That Merry Crew.= By FLORENCE COOMBE. - -=Sir Wilfrid’s Grandson.= By GERALDINE MOCKLER. - -=Sydney’s Chums=: A Story of East and West London. By H. F. GETHEN. - -=Daddy Samuels’ Darling.= By the Author of “The Two Dorothys”. - -=May, Guy, and Jim.= By ELLINOR DAVENPORT ADAMS. - -=A Girl in Spring-time.= By Mrs. MANSERGH. - -=In the Days of Drake.= Being the Adventures of Humphrey Salkeld. By J. -S. FLETCHER. - -=Wilful Joyce.= By W. L. ROOPER. - -=Proud Miss Sydney.= By GERALDINE MOCKLER. - -=Queen of the Daffodils.= By LESLIE LAING. - -=The Girleen.= By EDITH JOHNSTONE. - -=The Organist’s Baby.= By KATHLEEN KNOX. - -=School Days in France.= By AN OLD GIRL. - -=The Ravensworth Scholarship.= By Mrs. HENRY CLARKE. - -=Sir Walter’s Ward=: A Tale of the Crusades. By WILLIAM EVERARD. - -=Raff’s Ranche=: A Story of Adventure among Cow-boys and Indians. By F. -M. HOLMES. - -=The Joyous Story of Toto.= By LAURA E. RICHARDS. - -=Our Dolly=: Her Words and Ways. By Mrs. R. H. READ. - -=Fairy Fancy=: What she Heard and Saw. By Mrs. READ. - -=New Light through Old Windows.= By GREGSON GOW. - -=Little Tottie, and Two Other Stories.= By THOMAS ARCHER. - -=Naughty Miss Bunny.= By CLARA MULHOLLAND. - -=Adventures of Mrs. Wishing-to-be.= By ALICE CORKRAN. - -=An Unexpected Hero.= By ELIZ. J. LYSAGHT. - -=The Bushranger’s Secret.= By Mrs. HENRY CLARKE, M.A. - -=The White Squall.= By JOHN C. HUTCHESON. - -=The Wreck of the “Nancy Bell”.= By J. C. HUTCHESON. - -=The Lonely Pyramid.= By J. H. YOXALL. - -=Bab=: or, The Triumph of Unselfishness. By ISMAY THORN. - -=Brave and True=, and other Stories. By GREGSON GOW. - -=The Light Princess.= By GEORGE MAC DONALD. - -=Nutbrown Roger and I.= By J. H. YOXALL. - -=Sam Silvan’s Sacrifice.= By JESSE COLMAN. - -=Insect Ways on Summer Days= in Garden, Forest, Field, and Stream. By -JENNETT HUMPHREYS. With 70 Illustrations. - -=Susan.= By AMY WALTON. - -=A Pair of Clogs.= By AMY WALTON. - -=The Hawthorns.= By AMY WALTON. - -=Dorothy’s Dilemma.= By CAROLINE AUSTIN. - -=Marie’s Home.= By CAROLINE AUSTIN. - -=A Warrior King.= By J. EVELYN. - -=Aboard the “Atalanta”.= By HENRY FRITH. - -=The Penang Pirate.= By JOHN C. HUTCHESON. - -=Teddy=: The Story of a “Little Pickle”. By JOHN C. HUTCHESON. - -=A Rash Promise.= By CECILIA SELBY LOWNDES. - -=Linda and the Boys.= By CECILIA SELBY LOWNDES. - -=Swiss Stories for Children.= From the German of MADAM JOHANNA SPYRI. -By LUCY WHEELOCK. - -=The Squire’s Grandson.= By J. M. CALLWELL. - -=Magna Charta Stories.= Edited by ARTHUR GILMAN, A.M. - -=The Wings of Courage=; and The Cloud-Spinner. Translated from the -French of GEORGE SAND, by Mrs. CORKRAN. - -=Chirp and Chatter=: Or, Lessons from Field and Tree. By ALICE BANKS. -With 54 Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. - -=Four Little Mischiefs.= By ROSA MULHOLLAND. - - - - -LIBRARY OF FAMOUS BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. - -_Illustrated. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 1s. 6d. each._ - - - =The Rifle Rangers.= By Captain MAYNE REID. - =Macaulay’s Essays on English History.= - =Autobiographies of Boyhood.= - =Holiday House.= By CATHERINE SINCLAIR. - =Log-book of a Midshipman.= - =Parry’s Third Voyage.= - =Passages in the Life of a Galley-Slave.= - =The Downfall of Napoleon.= By SIR WALTER SCOTT. - =What Katy Did.= By SUSAN COOLIDGE. - =What Katy Did at School.= - =Wreck of the “Wager”.= - =Miss Austen’s Northanger Abbey.= - =Miss Edgeworth’s The Good Governess.= - =Martineau’s Feats on the Fiord.= - =Marryat’s Poor Jack.= - =The Snowstorm.= By Mrs. GORE. - =Life of Dampier.= - =The Cruise of the Midge.= M. SCOTT. - =Lives and Voyages of Drake and Cavendish.= - =Edgeworth’s Moral Tales.= - =Marryat’s The Settlers in Canada.= - =Michael Scott’s Tom Cringle’s Log.= - =Natural History of Selborne.= - =Waterton’s Wanderings in S. America.= - =Anson’s Voyage Round the World.= - =Autobiography of Franklin.= - =Lamb’s Tales from Shakspeare.= - =Southey’s Life of Nelson.= - =Miss Mitford’s Our Village.= - =Two Years Before the Mast.= - =Children of the New Forest.= - =Scott’s The Talisman.= - =The Basket of Flowers.= - =Marryat’s Masterman Ready.= - =Alcott’s Little Women.= - =Cooper’s Deerslayer.= - =The Lamplighter.= By Miss CUMMINS. - =Cooper’s Pathfinder.= - =The Vicar of Wakefield.= - =Plutarch’s Lives of Greek Heroes.= - =Poe’s Tales of Romance and Fantasy.= - - -BLACKIE’S EIGHTEENPENNY SERIES. - -_Illustrated. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant._ - - - =Holidays at Sandy Bay.= By E. S. BUCHHEIM. - =Best of Intentions.= By GERALDINE MOCKLER. - =An Africander Trio.= By JANE H. 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America.= - =Anson’s Voyage Round the World.= - =Lamb’s Tales from Shakspeare.= - =Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin.= - =Marryat’s Children of the New Forest.= - =Miss Mitford’s Our Village.= - =Scott’s Talisman.= - =The Basket of Flowers.= - =Marryat’s Masterman Ready.= - =Alcott’s Little Women.= - =Cooper’s Deerslayer.= - =Parry’s Third Voyage.= - =Dickens’ Old Curiosity Shop.= 2 vols. - =Plutarch’s Lives of Greek Heroes.= - =The Lamplighter.= - =Cooper’s Pathfinder.= - =The Vicar of Wakefield.= - =White’s Natural History of Selborne.= - =Scott’s Ivanhoe.= 2 vols. - =Michael Scott’s Tom Cringle’s Log.= - =Irving’s Conquest of Granada.= 2 vols. - =Lives of Drake and Cavendish.= - =Michael Scott’s Cruise of the Midge.= - =Edgeworth’s Moral Tales.= - =Passages in the Life of a Galley-Slave.= - =The Snowstorm.= By Mrs. Gore. - =Life of Dampier.= - =Marryat’s The Settlers in Canada.= - =Martineau’s Feats on the Fiord.= - =Marryat’s Poor Jack.= - =The Good Governess.= By Maria Edgeworth. - =Northanger Abbey.= By Jane Austen. - =The Log Book of a Midshipman.= - =Autobiographies of Boyhood.= - =Holiday House.= By Catherine Sinclair. - =Wreck of the “Wager”.= - =What Katy Did.= By Miss Coolidge. - =What Katy Did at School.= By Do. - =Scott’s Life of Napoleon.= - =Essays on English History.= By Lord Macaulay. - =The Rifle Rangers.= By Captain Mayne Reid. - -_Detailed Prospectus and Press Opinions will be sent post free on -Application._ - - * * * * * - -“The Library is one of the most intelligent enterprises in connection -with juvenile literature of recent years.... 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