A Very Naughty Girl

  CHAPTER XVII.--THE FALL IN THE SNOW.

  The next morning, when the meager breakfast which Mr. Leeson and hisdaughter enjoyed together had come to an end, Sylvia ran off to findJasper. She had stayed with her father during most of the precedingevening, and although she had gone as usual to drink her chocolate andeat her bread before going to bed, she had said very little to Jasper.But she wanted to speak to her this morning, for she had thoughts in thenight, and those thoughts were driving her to decisive action. Jasperwas standing in the kitchen. She had made up the fire with the smokelesscoal, and it was burning slowly but steadily. A little, plump chickenlay on the table; a small piece of bacon was close at hand. There wasalso a pile of large and mealy-looking potatoes and some greenvegetables.

  "Our dinner for to-day," said Jasper briefly.

  "Oh Jasper!" answered the girl--"oh, if only father could have some ofthat chicken! Do you know, I do not think he is at all well; he lookedso cold and feeble last night. He really is starving himself--very muchas I starved myself before you came; but he is old and cannot bear itquite so well. What am I to do to keep him alive?"

  Jasper looked full at Sylvia.

  "Do!" she said. "How can a fool be cured of his folly? That is thequestion I ask myself. If he denies himself the necessaries of life, howare you to give them to him?"

  "Well," said Sylvia, "I manage as best I can by hardly ever eating inhis presence; he does not notice, particularly at breakfast. He enjoyedhis egg and toast this morning, and really said nothing about myunwonted extravagance."

  "I have a plan in my head," said Jasper, "which may or may not come toanything. You know those few miserable barn-door fowls which your fatherkeeps just by the shrubbery in that old hen-house?"

  "Yes," replied Sylvia.

  "Do they ever lay any eggs?"

  "No."

  "I thought not. I wonder a prudent, careful man like Mr. Leeson shouldkeep them eating their heads off, so to speak."

  "Oh, they don't eat much," replied Sylvia. "I got them when father spokeso much about the wasted potato-skins. I bought them from a gipsy. I didnot know they were so old."

  "We must get rid of those fowls," said Jasper. "You must tell yourfather that it is a great waste of money to keep them; and, my dear, wewill give him fowl to eat for his dinner as long as the old fowls in theshrubbery last. There are ten of them. I shall sell them--very littleindeed we shall get for them--and he will imagine he is eating them whenhe really is consuming a delicate little bird like the one you and I aregoing to enjoy for our dinner to-day."

  "What fun!" said Sylvia, the color coming into her cheeks and her eyessparkling. "You do not think it is wrong to deceive him, do you?"

  "Wrong! Bless you! no," replied Jasper. "And now, my dear, what is thematter with you? You look----"

  "How?" replied Sylvia.

  "Just as if you were bursting to tell me something."

  "I am--I am," answered Sylvia. "Oh Jasper, you must help me!"

  "Of course I will, dear."

  "I have resolved to accept your most kind offer. I will pay you somehow,in some fashion, but if you could make just one of Evelyn's frocks fitfor me to wear!"

  "Ah!" replied Jasper. "Now, I am as pleased about this as I could beabout anything. We will have more than one, my pretty young miss. Butwhat do you want it for?"

  "I am going to do a great, big, dangerous thing," replied Sylvia. "Iffather discovers, things will be very bad, I am sure; but perhaps hewill not discover. Anyhow, I am not proof against temptation. I met LadyFrances Wynford."

  "And how does her ladyship look?" asked Jasper--"as proud as ever?"

  "She was not proud to me, Jasper; she was quite nice. She asked me totake a drive with her."

  "You took a drive with her ladyship!"

  "I did indeed; you must treat me with great respect after this."

  Jasper put her arms akimbo and burst into a loud laugh.

  "I guess," she said after a pause, "you looked just as fine andaristocratic as her ladyship's own self."

  "I drove in a luxurious carriage, and had a lovely fur cloak wrappedround me," replied the girl; "and Lady Frances was very, very kind, andshe has asked me to spend Saturday at the Castle."

  "Saturday! Why, that is to-morrow."

  "Yes, I know it is."

  "You are going?"

  "Yes, I am going."

  "You will see my little Eve to-morrow?"

  "Yes, Jasper."

  Jasper's black eyes grew suspiciously bright; she raised her hand todash away something which seemed to dim them for a second, then she saidin a brisk tone:

  "We have our work cut out for us, for you shall not go shabby, mypretty, pretty maid. I will soon have the dinner in order, and----"

  "But what have you got for father's dinner?"

  "A little soup. You can tell him that you boiled his chop in it. It isreally good, and I am putting in lots of pearl barley and rice andpotatoes. He will be ever so pleased, for he will think it cost next tonothing; but there is a good piece of solid meat boiled down in thatsoup, nevertheless."

  "Oh, thank you, Jasper; you are a comfort to me."

  "Well," replied Jasper, "I always like to do my best for those who arebrave and young and put upon. You are a very silly girl in some ways,Miss Sylvia; but you have been good to me, and I mean to be good to you.Now then, dinner is well forward, and we will go and search out thedress."

  The rest of the day passed quickly, and with intense enjoyment as far asSylvia was concerned. She had sufficiently good taste to choose theleast remarkable of Evelyn's many costumes. There was a rich dark-browncostume, trimmed with velvet of the same shade, which could belengthened in the skirt and let out in the bodice, and which the younggirl would look very nice in. A brown velvet hat accompanied thecostume, with a little tuft of ostrich feathers placed on one side, anda pearl buckle to keep all in place. There were muffs and furs inquantities to choose from. Sylvia would for once in her life be richlyappareled. Jasper exerted herself to the utmost, and the pretty dresswas all in order by the time night came.

  It was quite late evening when Sylvia sought the room where her fatherlived. A very plain but at the same time nourishing supper had beenprovided for Mr. Leeson. Sylvia's own supper she would take as usualwith Jasper. Sylvia dashed into her father's room, her eyes bright andher cheeks glowing. She was surprised and distressed to see the roomempty. She wondered if her father had gone to his bedroom. Quickly sherushed up-stairs and knocked at the door; there was no response. Sheopened the door softly and went in. All was cold and icy desolationwithin the large, badly furnished room. Sylvia shivered slightly, andrushed down-stairs again. She peeped out of the window. The snow wasfalling heavily in great big flakes.

  "Oh, I hope it will not snow too much to-night!" thought the young girl."But no matter; however deep it is, I shall find my way to CastleWynford to-morrow."

  She wondered if her father would miss her, if he would grow restless andanxious; but nevertheless she was determined to enjoy her pleasure.Still, where was he now? She glanced at the fire in the big grate; sheventured to put on some more coals and to tidy up the hearth; then shedrew down the blinds of the windows, pulled her father's armchair infront of the fire, sat down herself by the hearth, and waited. Shewaited for over half an hour. During that time the warmth of the firemade her drowsy. She found herself nodding. Suddenly she sat up wideawake. A queer sense of uneasiness stole over her; she must go and seekher father. Where could he be? How she longed to call Jasper to her aid!But that, she knew, would be impossible. She wrapped a threadbare cloak,which hung on a peg in the hall, round her shoulders, slipped her feetinto goloshes, and set out into the wintry night. She had not gone adozen yards before she saw the object of her search. Mr. Leeson waslying full length on the snow; he was not moving. Sylvia had a wildhorror that he was dead; she bent over him.

  "Father! father!" she cried.

  There was no answer. She touched his face with her lips; it was icycold. Oh, was he d
ead? Oh, terror! oh, horror! All her accustomedprudence flew to the winds. Get succor for him at once she must. Shedashed into the kitchen. Jasper was standing by the fire.

  "Come at once, Jasper!" she said. "Bring brandy, and come at once."

  "What has happened, my darling?"

  "Come at once and you will see. Bring brandy--brandy."

  Jasper in an emergency was all that was admirable. She followed Sylviaout into the snow, and between them they dragged Mr. Leeson back to thehouse.

  "Now, dear," said Jasper, "I will give him the brandy, and I'll standbehind him. When he comes to I will slip out of the room. Oh, the poorgentleman! He is as cold as ice. Hold that blanket and warm it, willyou, Sylvia? We must put it round him. Oh, bless you, child! heap somecoals on the fire. What matter the expense? There! you cannot lift thatgreat hod; I'll do it."

  Jasper piled coals on the grate; the fire crackled and blazed merrily.Mr. Leeson lay like one dead.

  "He is dead--he is dead!" gasped Sylvia.

  "No, love, not a bit of it; but he slipped in the cold and the fallstunned him a bit, and the cold is so strong he could not come tohimself again. He will soon be all right; we must get this brandybetween his lips."

  That they managed to do, and a minute or two later the poor man openedhis eyes. Just for a second it seemed to him that he saw a strangewoman, stout and large and determined-looking, bending over him; but thenext instant, his consciousness more wholly returning, he saw Sylvia.Sylvia's little face, white with fear, her eyes, large with love andanxiety, were close to his. He smiled into the sweet little face, andholding out his thin hand, allowed her to clasp it. There was a rustleas though somebody was going away, and Sylvia and her father were alone.A moment later the young girl raised her eyes and saw Jasper in thebackground making mysterious signs to her. She got up. Jasper washolding a cup of very strong soup in her hand. Sylvia took it withthankfulness, and brought it to her father.

  "Do you know," she said, trying to speak as cheerfully as she could,"that you have behaved very badly? You went out into the snow when youshould have been in your warm room, and you fell down and you fainted orsomething. Anyhow, I found you in time; and now you are to drink this."

  "I won't; hot water will do--not that expensive stuff," said Mr. Leeson,true to the tragedy of his life even at this crucial moment.

  "Drink this and nothing else," said Sylvia, speaking as hardly andfirmly as she dared.

  Mr. Leeson was too weak to withstand her. She fed him by spoonfuls, andpresently he was well enough to sit up again.

  "Child, what a fire!" he said.

  "Yes, father; and if it means our very last sixpence, or our very lastpenny even, it is going to be a big fire to-night: and you are going tobe nursed and petted and comforted. Oh, father, father, you gave me sucha fright!"

  As Sylvia spoke her composure gave way; her tense feelings were relievedby a flood of tears. She pressed her face against her father's hand andsobbed unrestrainedly.

  "You do not mean to say you are really fond of me?" he said; and a queermoisture came into his own eyes. He said nothing more about the coals,and Sylvia insisted on his having more food, and, in short, having areally good time.

  "Dare I leave him to-morrow?" she said to herself. "He may be very weakafter this; and yet--and yet I cannot give up my great, great fun. Mylovely dress, too, ready and all! Oh! I must go. I am sure he will beall right in the morning."

  Presently, much to Sylvia's relief, Mr. Leeson suggested that he shouldsleep on the sofa, in the neighborhood of the big fire.

  "For you have been so reckless, my dear little girl," he said, "thatreally you have provided a fire to last for hours and hours. It would bea sad pity to waste it; I think, therefore, that I shall spend the nighton this sofa, well wrapped up, enjoying the heat."

  "Nothing could be better, father," said Sylvia, "except a big, very big,fire in your own room, and you in your own bed well warmed with hotbottles."

  "We should soon be in the workhouse," was Mr. Leeson's rejoinder. "No,no; I will enjoy the fire here now that you have been so extravagant;and you had better go to bed if you have had your supper."

  Sylvia had had no supper, but Mr. Leeson was far too self-absorbed tonotice that fact. Presently she left him, and he lay on the sofa,blinking into the fire, and occasionally half-dozing. After a time hedropped off to sleep, and the young girl, who stole in to look at him,went out with a satisfied expression on her face.

  "He is quite well again," she said to Jasper, "and he is sleepingsweetly.

  "Now, look here," said Jasper. "What is fretting you?"

  "I don't think I ought to leave him to-morrow."

  "But I shall be here. I will manage to let him have his mealscomfortable without his knowing it. Do you suppose I have not done moredifficult things than that in my day? Now, my love, you go to bed andsleep sound, and I will have a plan all mature to give you your happyday with an undisturbed conscience in the morning."

  Sylvia was really very tired--dead tired. She went up-stairs, and as soonas she laid her head on her pillow was sound asleep.

  Meanwhile Mr. Leeson slept on for two or three hours; it was past themiddle of the night when he awoke. He woke wide awake, as elderly peoplewill, and looked round him. The fire had burnt itself down to a greatred mass; the room looked cheery and comfortable in the warm rays. Mr.Leeson stirred himself luxuriously and wrapped the blanket, which Jasperhad brought from her own stores, tightly round his person. After a time,however, its very softness and fluffiness and warmth attracted hisattention. He began to feel it between his fingers and thumb; then heroused himself, sat up, and looked at it. A suspicious look came intohis eyes.

  "What is the matter?" he said to himself. "Is Sylvia spending money thatI know nothing about? Why, this is a new blanket! I have an inventory ofevery single thing that this house possesses. Surely new blankets arenot included in that inventory! I can soon see."

  He rose, lit a pair of candles, went to a secretary which stood againstthe wall, opened it, and took out a book marked "Exact Inventory of allthe Furniture at The Priory." He turned up the portion devoted to houselinen, and read the description of the different blankets which themeager establishment contained. There was certainly a lack of thesevaluable necessaries; the blankets at The Priory had seen much service,and were worn thin with use and washing. But this blanket was new--oh,delicious, of course--but what was the man worth who needed suchluxuries! Mr. Leeson pushed it aside with a disturbed look on his face.

  "Sylvia must be spending money," he said to himself. "I have observed itof late. She looks better, and she decidedly gives me extravagant meals.The bread is not as stale as it might be, and there is too much meatused. This soup----"

  He took up the empty cup from which he had drained the soup a few hoursback, and looked at a drop or two which still remained at the bottom.

  "Positively it jellies," he said to himself--"jellies! Then, too, in myrambles round this evening I noticed that smoke again--that smoke comingfrom the kitchen. There is too much fuel used here, and these blanketsare disgraceful, and the food is reckless--there is no other word forit."

  He sank back on his sofa and gazed at the fire.

  "Ah!" he said as he looked full at the flames, "out you go presently;and for some time the warmth will remain in the room, and I shall notdream of lighting any other fire here until that warmth is gone. Sylviatakes after her mother. There was never a better woman than my dearwife, but she was madly, disgracefully extravagant. What shall I do ifthis goes on?--and pretty girls like Sylvia are apt to be so thoughtless.I wish I could send her away for a bit; it will be quite terrible if shedevelops her mother's tastes. I could not be cruel to my pretty littlegirl, but she certainly will be a fearful thorn in my side if she buysblankets of this sort, and feeds me with soup that jellies, forsooth!What am I to do? I have not saved quite so much as I ought during thelast week. Ah! the house is silent as the grave. I shall just count outthe money I have put into that last canvas bag." r />
  A stealthy, queer light came into Mr. Leeson's eyes. He crossed the roomon tiptoe and turned the key in the lock. As he did so he seemed to beassailed by a memory.

  "Was I alone with Sylvia when I awoke out of unconsciousness," he saidto himself, "or was there some one else by? I cannot quite make out. Wasit a dream that I saw an ugly, large woman bending over me? People dodream things of that sort when they sink from exhaustion. I have read ofit in stories of misers. Misers! I am nothing of that kind; I am just aprudent man who will not spend too much--a prudent man who tries to save.It must have been a dream that a stranger was in the house; my littlegirl might take after her mother, but she is not so bad as that. Yes, Iwill take the opportunity; I will count what is in the canvas bag. I wastoo weak to-night to attempt the work of burying my treasure, butto-morrow night I must be stronger. I believe I ate too much, and thatis what ails me--in fact, I am certain of it. The cold took me andbrought on an acute attack of indigestion, and I stumbled and fell. Poordear little Sylvia! But I won't leave her penniless; that is onecomfort."

  Putting out one candle carefully, Mr. Leeson now laid the other on atable. He then went to his secretary and opened it. He pushed in hishand far, and brought out from its innermost depths a small bag made ofrough canvas. The bag was tied with coarse string. He glanced round him,a strange expression on his face, and loosening the string of the bag,poured its contents upon the table. He poured them out slowly, and as hedid so a look of distinct delight visited his face. There lay on thetable in front of him a pile of money--gold, silver, copper. He spentsome time dividing the three species of coin into different heaps. Thegold coins were put in piles one on top of the other at his right hand,the silver lying in still larger heaps in the middle; the coppers, up tofarthings, lay on his left hand. He bent his head and touched the goldwith his lips.

  "Beautiful! blessed! lovely!" he muttered. "I have saved all this out ofthe money which my dear wife would have spent on food and dress andluxuries. The solid, tangible, precious thing is here, and there is morelike it--much more like it--many bags larger than these, full, full to thebrim, all buried down deep in the fowl-house. No one would guess where Ibank my spoils. They are as safe as can be. I dare not keep muchtreasure in the house, but no one will know where it really lies."

  He counted his gold carefully; he also counted his silver; finally hecounted his copper. He wrote down the different sums on a piece ofpaper, which he slipped into the canvas bag; he put back the coins, tiedthe bag with the string, and returned it to its hiding-place.

  "To-morrow night I must bury it," he said to himself. "I had hoped thatI would have saved a little more, but by dint of great additionaleconomy I may succeed next month. Well, I must begin to be very careful,and I must speak plainly on the subject to Sylvia."