Post Haste, R. M. Ballantyne [sad books to read .TXT] 📗

whether it formed part of the Rosebud domain or that of the neighbouring cottage. The day, too, was exceptionally fine. It was one of those still, calm, sunny, cloudless days, which induce healthy people sometimes to wish that earth might be their permanent home.

“Oh, bybie!” exclaimed Tottie Bones, when, having clambered to the top of the knoll, she sat down on a tree-root and gazed on the cottage and the farm-yard, where hens were scratching in the interest of active chickens, and cows were standing in blank felicity, and pigs were revelling in dirt and sunshine—“Oh, bybie! it’s ’eaven upon earth, ain’t it, darling?”

The darling evidently agreed with her for once, for, lying on his back in the long grass, he seized two handfuls of wild-flowers, kicked up his fat legs, and laughed aloud.

“That’s right, darling. Ain’t it fun? And such flowers too—oh! all for nothing, only got to pull ’em. Yes, roll away, darling, you can’t dirty yourself ’ere. Come, I shall ’ave a roll too.” With which remark Tottie plunged into the grass, seized the baby and tumbled him and herself about to such an extent that the billycock hat was much deteriorated and the feather damaged beyond recovery.

Inside The Rosebud the other two members of the party were also enjoying themselves, though not exactly in like manner. They revelled in tea and in the feast of reason.

“Where, and when, and why did you find that child?” asked Miss Stivergill.

Her friend related what she knew of Tottie’s history.

“Strange!” remarked Miss Stivergill, but beyond that remark she gave no indication of the state of her mind.

“It is indeed strange,” returned her friend, “but it is just another instance of the power of God’s Word to rescue and preserve souls, even in the most unfavourable circumstances. Tottie’s mother is Christian, and all the energies of her vigorous nature are concentrated on two points—the training of her child in the fear of God, and the saving of her husband from drink. She is a woman of strong faith, and is quite convinced that her prayers will be answered, because, she says, ‘He who has promised is faithful,’ but I fear much that she will not live to see it.”

“Why so?” demanded the other sharply.

“Because she has a bad affection of the lungs. If she were under more favourable circumstances she might recover.”

“Pooh! nonsense. People constantly recover from what is called bad affection of the lungs. Can nothing be done for her?”

“Nothing,” replied Miss Lillycrop; “she will not leave her husband or her home. If she dies—”

“Well, what then?”

“Little Tottie must be rescued, you know, and I have set my heart on doing it.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Miss Stivergill firmly.

Miss Lillycrop looked surprised.

“No, you shan’t rescue her,” continued the good lady, with still firmer emphasis; “you’ve got all London at your feet, and there’s plenty more where that one came from. Come, Lilly, you mustn’t be greedy. You may have the baby if you like, but you must leave little Bones to me.”

Miss Lillycrop was making feeble resistance to this proposal when the subject of dispute suddenly appeared at the door with glaring eyes and a horrified expression of face. Baby was in her arms as usual, and both he and his nurse were drenched, besides being covered from head to foot with mud.

It needed little explanation to tell that in crossing a ditch on a single plank Tottie had stumbled and gone headlong into the water with baby in her arms. Fortunately neither was hurt, though both had been terribly frightened.

Miss Stivergill was equal to the occasion. Ordering two tubs half-full of warm water into the back kitchen, she stripped the unfortunates and put them therein, to the intense joy of baby, whose delight in a warm bath was only equalled by his pleasure in doing mischief. At first Miss Stivergill thought of burning the children’s garments, and fitting them out afresh, but on the suggestion of her friend that their appearing at home with new clothes might create suspicion, and cause unpleasant inquiries, she refrained. When thoroughly cleaned, Tottie and baby were wrapped up in shawls and set down to a hearty tea in the parlour.

While this was being devoured, the two friends conversed of many things. Among others, Miss Stivergill touched on the subject of her progenitors, and made some confidential references to her mother, which her friend received with becoming sympathy.

“Yes, my dear,” said Miss Stivergill, in a tone of unwonted tenderness. “I don’t mind telling you all about her, for you’re a good soul, with a feeling heart. Her loss was a terrible loss to me, though it was great gain to her. Before her death we were separated for a time—only a short time,—but it proved to be a blessed separation, for the letters she wrote me sparkled with love and wit and playfulness, as though they had been set with pearls and rubies and diamonds. I shall show you my treasures before going to bed. I keep them in that box on the sideboard, to be always handy. It is not large, but its contents are more precious to me than thousands of gold and silver.”

She paused; and then, observing that Tottie was staring at her, she advised her to make the most of her opportunity, and eat as much as possible.

“If you please, m’m, I can’t eat any more,” said Tottie.

“Can’t eat more, child?—try,” urged the hospitable lady.

Tottie heaved a deep sigh and said that she couldn’t eat another morsel if she were to try ever so much. As baby appeared to be in the same happy condition, and could with difficulty keep his eyes open, both children were sent to bed under the care of a maid, and Miss Stivergill, taking down her treasure-box, proceeded to read part of its contents to her bosom friend.

Little did good Miss Stivergill imagine that she had dug a mine that night under Rosebud Cottage, and that the match which was destined to light it was none other than her innocent protégée, little Bones.

Throwing herself into the receptive arms of her mother, two days after the events just described, Tottie poured the delight and amazement of her surcharged spirit into sympathetic ears. Unfortunately her glowing descriptions also reached unsympathetic ears. Mrs Bones had happily recovered her husband, and brought him home, where he lay in his familiar corner, resting from his labours of iniquity. The unsympathetic ears belonged to Mr Abel Bones.

When Tottie, however, in her discursive wandering began to talk of pearls, and rubies, and diamonds, and treasures worth thousands of gold and silver, in a box on the sideboard, the ears became suddenly sympathetic, and Mr Bones raised himself on one elbow.

“Hush! darling,” said Mrs Bones, glancing uneasily at the dark corner.

Mr Bones knew well that if his wife should caution Tottie not to tell him anything about Rosebud Cottage, he would be unable to get a word out of her. He therefore rose suddenly, staggered towards the child, and seized her hand.

“Come, Tot, you and I shall go out for a walk.”

“Oh, Abel, don’t. Dear Abel—”

But dear Abel was gone, and his wife, clasping her hands, looked helplessly and hopelessly round the room. Then a gleam of light seemed to come into her eyes. She looked up and went down on her knees.

Meanwhile Abel went into a public-house, and, calling for a pint of beer, bade his child drink, but Tottie declined. He swore with an oath that he’d compel her to drink, but suddenly changed his mind and drank it himself.

“Now, Tot, tell father all about your visit to Miss Stivergill. She’s very rich—eh?”

“Oh! awfully,” replied Tottie, who felt an irresistible drawing to her father when he condescended to speak to her in kindly tones.

“Keeps a carriage—eh?”

“No, nor a ’oss—not even a pony,” returned the child.

“An’ no man-servant about the house?”

“No—not as I seed.”

“Not even a gardener, now?”

“No, only women—two of ’em, and very nice they was too. One fat and short, the other tall and thin. I liked the fat one best.”

“Ha! blessin’s on ’em both,” said Mr Bones, with a bland smile. “Come now, Tot, tell me all about the cottage—inside first, the rooms and winders, an’ specially the box of treasure. Then we’ll come to the garden, an’ so we’ll get out by degrees to the fields and flowers. Go ahead, Tot.”

It need scarcely be said that Abel Bones soon possessed himself of all the information he required, after which he sent Tottie home to her mother, and went his way.