CHAPTER ELEVEN.
A CHRISTMAS PARTY, BY JOHN STRANGE WINTER.
It was getting very near Christmas-time, and all the boys at Miss Ware'sschool were talking excitedly about going home for the holidays, of thefun they would have, the presents they would receive on Christmasmorning, the tips from Grannies, Uncles, and Aunts, of the pantomimes,the parties, the never-ending joys and pleasures which would be theirs.
"I shall go to Madame Tussaud's and to the Drury Lane pantomime," saidyoung Fellowes, "and my Mother will give a party, and Aunt Adelaide willgive another, and Johnny Sanderson and Mary Greville, and ever so manyothers. I shall have a splendid time at home. Oh, Jim, I wish it wereall holidays, like it is when one's grown up."
"My Uncle Bob is going to give me a pair of skates--clippers," remarkedHarry Wadham.
"My Father's going to give me a bike," put in George Alderson.
"Will you bring it back to school with you?" asked Harry.
"Oh, yes, I should think so, if Miss Ware doesn't say no."
"I say, Shivers," cried Fellowes, "where are you going to spend yourholidays?"
"I'm going to stop here," answered the boy called Shivers, in a veryforlorn tone.
"Here--with old Ware?--oh, my! Why can't you go home?"
"I can't go home to India," answered Shivers. His real name, by thebye, was Egerton--Tom Egerton.
"No--who said you could? But haven't you any relations anywhere?"
Shivers shook his head. "Only in India," he said miserably.
"Poor old chap; that's rough luck for you. Oh, I'll tell you what itis, you fellows: if I couldn't go home for the holidays--especiallyChristmas--I think I'd just sit down and die."
"Oh, no, you wouldn't," said Shivers; "you'd hate it and you'd get everso homesick and miserable, but you wouldn't die over it. You'd just getthrough somehow, and hope something would happen before next year, orthat some kind fairy or other would--"
"Bosh! there are no fairies nowadays," said Fellowes. "See here,Shivers: I'll write home and ask my Mother if she won't invite you tocome back with me for the holidays."
"Will you really?"
"Yes, I will: and if she says yes, we shall have such a splendid time,because, you know, we live in London, and go to everything, and haveheaps of tips and parties and fun."
"Perhaps she will say no," suggested poor little Shivers, who hadsteeled himself to the idea that there would be no Christmas holidaysfor him, excepting that he would have no lessons for so many weeks.
"My Mother isn't at all the kind of woman who says no," Fellowesdeclared loudly.
In a few days' time, however, a letter arrived from his Mother which heopened eagerly.
"My own darling boy," it said, "I am so very sorry to have to tell youthat dear little Aggie is down with scarlet fever, and so you cannotcome home for your holidays, nor yet bring your young friend with you,as I would have loved you to do if all had been well here. Your AuntAdelaide would have had you there, but her two girls have both gotscarlatina--and I believe Aggie got hers there, though, of course, poorAunt Adelaide could not help it. I did think about your going to CousinRachel's. She most kindly offered to invite you, but, dear boy, she isan old lady, and so particular, and not used to boys, and she lives sofar from anything which is going on that you would be able to go tonothing; so your Father and I came to the conclusion that the very bestthing that you could do under the circumstances is for you to stay atMiss Ware's and for us to send your Christmas to you as well as we can.It won't be like being at home, darling boy, but you will try and behappy--won't you, and make me feel that you are helping me in thisdreadful time.
"Dear little Aggie is very ill, very ill indeed. We have two nurses.Nora and Connie are shut away in the morning-room and to the back stairsand their own rooms with Miss Ellis, and have not seen us since the dearchild was first taken ill. Tell your young friend that I am sending youa hamper from Buzzard's, with double of everything, and I am writing toMiss Ware to ask her to take you both to anything that may be going onin Cross Hampton. And tell him that it makes me so much happier tothink that you won't be alone.
"Your Own Mother.
"This letter will smell queer, darling: it will be fumigated beforeposting."
It must be owned that when Bertie Fellowes received this letter, whichwas neither more nor less than a shattering of all his Christmas hopesand joys, that he fairly broke down, and, hiding his face upon his armsas they rested on his desk, sobbed aloud.
The forlorn boy from India, who sat next to him, tried every boyishmeans of consolation that he could think of. He patted his shoulder,whispered many pitying words, and, at last, flung his arm across him andhugged him tightly, as, poor little chap, he himself many times sincehis arrival in England had wished someone would do to him. At lastBertie Fellowes thrust his Mother's letter into his friend's hand.
"Read it," he sobbed.
So Shivers made himself master of Mrs Fellowes' letter and understoodthe cause of the boy's outburst of grief.
"Old fellow," he said at last, "don't fret over it. It might be worse.Why, you might be like me, with your Father and Mother thousands ofmiles away. When Aggie is better, you'll be able to go home--and it'llhelp your Mother if she thinks you are almost as happy as if you were athome. It must be worse for her--she has cried ever so over thisletter--see, it's all tear-blots."
The troubles and disappointments of youth are bitter while they last,but they soon pass, and the sun shines again. By the time Miss Ware,who was a kind-hearted, sensible, pleasant woman, came to tell Felloweshow sorry she was for him and his disappointment, the worst had gone by,and the boy was resigned to what could not be helped.
"Well, after all, one man's meat is another man's poison," she said,smiling down on the two boys; "poor Tom has been looking forward tospending his holidays all alone with us, and now he will have a friendwith him. Try to look on the bright side, Bertie, and to remember howmuch worse it would have been if there had been no boy to stay withyou."
"I can't help being disappointed, Miss Ware," said Bertie, his eyesfilling afresh and his lips quivering.
"No, dear boy; you would be anything but a nice boy if you were not.But I want you to try and think of your poor Mother, who is full oftrouble and anxiety, and to write to her as brightly as you can, andtell her not to worry about you more than she can help."
"Yes," said Bertie; but he turned his head away, and it was evident tothe school-mistress that his heart was too full to let him say more.
Still, he was a good boy, Bertie Fellowes, and when he wrote home to hisMother it was quite a bright every-day letter, telling her how sorry hewas about Aggie, and detailing a few of the ways in which he and Shiversmeant to spend their holidays. His letter ended thus:--
"Shivers got a letter from his Mother yesterday with three pounds in it:if you happen to see Uncle Dick, will you tell him I want a `Waterbury'dreadfully?"
The last day of the term came, and one by one, or two by two, thevarious boys went away, until at last only Bertie Fellowes and Shiverswere left in the great house. It had never appeared so large to eitherof them before. The schoolroom seemed to have grown to about the sizeof a church; the dining-room, set now with only one table, instead ofthree, was not like the same; while the dormitory, which had neverbefore had any room to spare, was like a wilderness. To Bertie Fellowesit was all dreary and wretched--to the boy from India, who knew no otherhouse in England, no other thought came than that it was a blessing thathe had one companion left.
"It is miserable," groaned poor Bertie, as they strolled into the greatechoing schoolroom after a lonely tea, set at one corner of the smallestof the three dining-tables; "just think if we had been on our way homenow--how different!"
"Just think if I had been left here by myself," said Shivers, and hegave a shudder which fully justified his name.
"Yes--but--" began Bertie, then shamefacedly and with a blush, added:"you know, when one wants to go home ever so ba
dly, one never thinksthat some chaps haven't got a home to go to."
The evening went by; discipline was relaxed entirely, and the two boyswent to bed in the top empty dormitory, and told stories to each otherfor a long time before they went to sleep. That night Bertie Fellowesdreamt of Madame Tussaud's and the great pantomime at Drury Lane, andpoor Shivers of a long creeper-covered bungalow far away in the shiningEast, and they both cried a little under the bed-clothes. Yet each puta brave face on their desolate circumstances to each other, and soanother day began.
This was the day before Christmas Eve, that delightful day ofpreparation for the greatest festival in all the year--the day when inmost households there are many little mysteries afoot, when parcels comeand go, and are smothered away so as to be ready when Santa Claus comeshis rounds; when some are busy decking the rooms with holly andmistletoe; when the cook is busiest of all, and savoury smells rise fromthe kitchen, telling of good things to be eaten on the morrow.
There were some preparations on foot at Minchin House, though there wasnot the same bustle and noise as is to be found in a large family. Andquite early in the morning came the great hamper which Mrs Fellowes hadspoken of in her letter to Bertie. Then just as the early dinner hadcome to an end, and Miss Ware was telling the two boys that she wouldtake them round the town to look at the shops, there was a tremendouspeal at the bell of the front door, and a voice was heard asking forMaster Egerton. In a trice Shivers had sprung to his feet, his facequite white, his hands trembling, and the next moment the door wasthrown open, and a tall, handsome lady came in, to whom he flew with asobbing cry of: "Aunt Laura! Aunt Laura!"
Aunt Laura explained in less time than it takes me to write this, thather husband, Colonel Desmond, had had left to him a large fortune, andthat they had come as soon as possible to England, having, in fact, onlyarrived in London the previous day.
"I was so afraid, Tom darling," she said, in ending, "that we should notget here till Christmas Day was over, and I was so afraid you might bedisappointed, that I would not let Mother tell you that we were on ourway home. I have brought a letter from Mother to Miss Ware--and youmust get your things packed up at once and come back with me by thesix-o'clock train to town. Then Uncle Jack and I will take youeverywhere, and give you a splendid time, you dear little chap, here allby yourself."
For a minute or two Shivers' face was radiant; then he caught sight ofBertie's down-drooped mouth, and turned to his Aunt.
"Dear Aunt Laura," he said, holding her hand very fast with his own,"I'm awfully sorry, but I can't go."
"Can't go? and why not?"
"Because I can't go and leave Fellowes here all alone," he said stoutly,though he could scarcely keep a suspicious quaver out of his voice."When I was going to be alone, Fellowes wrote and asked his Mother tolet me go home with him, and she couldn't, because his sister has gotscarlet fever, and they daren't have either of us; and he's got to stayhere--and he's never been away at Christmas before--and--and--I can't goaway and leave him by himself, Aunt Laura--and--"
For the space of a moment or so, Mrs Desmond stared at the boy as ifshe could not believe her ears; then she caught hold of him and halfsmothered him with kisses.
"Bless you, you dear little chap, you shall not leave him; you shallbring him along and we'll all enjoy ourselves together. What's hisname?--Bertie Fellowes. Bertie, my man, you are not very old yet, soI'm going to teach you a lesson as well as ever I can--it is thatkindness is never wasted in this world. I'll go out now and telegraphto your Mother--I don't suppose she will refuse to let you come withus."
A couple of hours later she returned in triumph, waving a telegram tothe two excited boys.
"God bless you, yes, with all our hearts," it ran; "you have taken aload off our minds."
And so Bertie Fellowes and Shivers found that there was such a thing asa fairy after all.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
HAGGART'S LIE, BY GERALDINE GLASGOW.
Crawley Major was talking very impressively in the great class-room ofFelton College. Even the few slow boys who were still mumbling overtheir Latin grammar for next day had one ear pricked up to hear what hewas saying. "I'll tell you what it is," said Crawley Major, addressingthem generally: "the Doctor is in a furious wax, and he will be prettyfree with his canings and impositions to-morrow. I just happened to betaking a message to Barclay, when he comes fussing in, not seeing me,and just _swells_ up to Barclay, _purple_ with rage. `Somebody has hadthe boat out on the river again, Mr Barclay,' he says, `notwithstandingmy orders and all the fines and punishments I have imposed, and I'mdetermined to find out who it is.' Then he saw me and turned purpleagain. `Now, Crawley, you have heard what I said, and you can justreturn to the class-room and tell your companions that I shall come downin half an hour, and I intend to have the truth about that boat if Ihave to keep every boy in the school under punishment for the nextmonth;' so here I am."
"Oh, stop that, Crawley," said a bright, handsome lad, who was standingon the table so as to get a better view of the proceedings. "TheDoctor's not often in a wax, and it's no joke when he is. I didn'tthink there was a fellow in the school would have touched the boat afterwhat he said last time."
All the boys hurled themselves at the table from which Haggart had beengiving out his opinions, and there was a general shout of: "No!"
"It _must_ be all right," said Haggart again. He was looking carelesslyround, and he suddenly caught sight of a frightened face a long waybeneath him. "Don't be in such a funk, Harry," he said good-humouredly."It will all come right in the end! The Doctor's awfully hardsometimes, but he's always just--eh, Crawley?"
"He canes you first, and he's just afterwards," said Crawley grimly.
The little boy shivered, and, when he tried to speak, his teethchattered. "Does--does he cane very hard?"
"Oh, dear, yes," said Crawley mischievously; "you don't forget it forsome days, I can tell you! Just look at little Parker," he went on,pointing to the child's terrified face: "wouldn't any unprejudicedperson think he had done it himself?"
"Oh, no, no," cried the boy angrily, "how dare you say so? How could I?What would I want with a boat?"
"Reserve your defence for the Doctor, sir," said Crawley impressively.
Something in the boy's piteous eagerness had attracted Haggart'sattention, and he turned and looked at him sharply. His eyes were wideopen and had a terrified look, and his thin lips were trembling, hissmall childish hand was fidgeting with the buttons of his coat.
First, a breath of suspicion came to Haggart, and a great rush of pityand contempt; then, as the child's eyes seemed to rise unwillingly tohis, the secret leaped from one heart to the other, and he knew. Hislips curled disdainfully, and he jumped off the table, hustling hislittle band of followers out of the way.
"There's the Doctor," he said; "let me pass."
All the boys stood up as the master majestically moved over to thefireplace and kicked the logs into a blaze. Then he faced roundsuddenly, and spoke in his peculiarly clear, decisive tones. "There hasbeen an act of great disobedience perpetrated here during the lasttwenty-four hours," he said. "Crawley overheard me speaking on thesubject to Mr Barclay, and has probably told you what it is. I had, asyou all know, given strict orders that the boat was not to be taken onthe river by any of the boys, and this morning it was found outside theboathouse tied to a stake. There is no doubt that one of my boys didthis, and the only reparation he can make is to own his fault at once,and take the punishment!"
There was dead silence.
One heart in the room was beating like a sledge-hammer against the Etonjacket that enclosed it, but no one spoke. Only Haggart turned hishead, and looked again at the fourth-form boys, and as if they wereunder a spell, the grey eyes, full of terrified entreaty, were lifted tohis. He tried to forget the look. He wished he could make that foolishchap understand that a caning was nothing, after all! All fellows worththeir salt got caned at school. Well, after all, he had to take hisc
hance with the others, but he wished he would not keep looking acrossat _him_ in that beastly way, as if _he_ had the keeping of hisconscience!
"Well?" said the Doctor.
But no one spoke.
"I am sorry," said the Doctor more quietly, "that the boy who did it hasnot had the courage to own up, but I will give him another chance. Iwill take every boy's separate answer, and, after that, the whole schoolwill be kept in the playground until the end of the term, unless theguilty boy will take the punishment on himself."
Haggart's face was very anxious as he, too, leant forth to see thefourth-form fellows, but all he could catch a sight of was a smooth,fair head that had drooped very low.
The Doctor, with a disappointed face, turned to the senior class. "Itseems hardly necessary to go through the form," he said. "I think I cancount on my senior boys. You, Crawley? You, Brown? You, Haggart?"
"I did it," said Haggart, in a clear, loud voice, and the Doctor'soutstretched finger fell.
"You, Haggart--_you_?" he said, in an incredulous voice. "Impossible!You?" said the Doctor again.
"Yes, sir."
"Then there is nothing more to be said--_now_. Only, I am surprised,and--disappointed. You can go now; you will sleep to-night in the smallspare room, and I will see you to-morrow. Go!"
Haggart moved slowly to the door, and as he turned the handle, he hearda noise, and then the Doctor's voice, speaking sharply: "What is that?What are they doing on the fourth form?"
"Harry Parker has a fit, or he's dead, or something," said a scaredvoice.
"No, he has only fainted," said Mr Barclay. "Take him to Miss Simpson,Barclay," said the Doctor. "He is a delicate little fellow."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Wasn't there a fellow called something Curtius, who saved a city once?"said a first-form boy, in a whisper.
"Yes; he leaped into a gulf."
"Well, that's what Haggart's done," said the boy.
"Rot!" said the other boy, still whispering.
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Nothing seemed very clear to Haggart's mind as he slowly undressed inthe cold, unused room. His brain was worried and confused. He wishedhe could have had the light of the Doctor's clear mind upon it, but, ofcourse, that was impossible.
"If he _is_ waxy, he's always just," he found himself saying out loud;and then, just before he went to sleep, "but, at any rate, I can bear itbetter."
There is no need to dwell upon the weeks that followed. Haggart tookhis punishment bravely enough, but that time was always, in after-life,a hideous memory to him. To be unloved, untrusted, solitary, anddespised, to be coldly disbelieved or contemptuously contradicted, wasso very hard to bear! But, with a strange and sickening sense of dread,he found himself longing, most of all, to hear of Harry--to know if hewere sorry, or remorseful, or only thankful to be spared! Then, atlast, in some roundabout way the news came to him.
Harry had been taken ill with brain fever the very day after thetragedy, and had been sent home; and it gave Haggart his first moment ofconscious happiness to realise that he had perhaps saved the poor, weak,little, trembling creature from one night of fear and anguish.
The boys were always kind to him in their peculiar way. There seemed tobe a bewildered feeling in their minds of cruelty and injustice, andthey were glad that he had not stuck out to the last and included thewhole school in the punishment; so sticks of liquorice, and jam-tarts,and even white mice, were secretly conveyed to his desk as tokens offriendship; but, although Haggart was grateful for the attentions, hecould never quite shake off the longing to make a clean breast of it tothe Doctor, and get his troubled mind set straight.
But one morning before the holidays a thrill went through the wholeschool when the Doctor stood silently for a minute after prayers andthen in his peculiarly quiet voice called to Haggart to come forward.
"Boys," he said, "I have had a letter this morning from Harry Parker'sMother, and she says that he has told her the truth about the boat. Hehas been very ill, poor child, and, in his delirium, it haunted him thatHaggart had suffered for his sake. Let him be cleared before you allfrom the unjust suspicion. But, Haggart," and he laid his hand verykindly on the boy's shoulder, "you must remember that the injustice camefrom _you_--no one would have doubted you if you had not first accusedyourself! I had my doubts always, but I did not know enough tounderstand. You told a lie; nothing can palliate or do away with that!No _motives_ can make a lie anything but a lie, and a lie is always acowardly thing, whether we try to shield ourselves with it or others.
"But the kindness which prompted it, the courage that bore thepunishment so bravely, the silence that has made a false heroism out ofit--these are fine qualities, Haggart, and I hope you will carry themwith you through life."
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