A Terrible Tomboy Part 32

'Jewels in the back of an old book!' gasped Peggy, astonished in her turn. 'How did they get there? Is it really true?'

'Certainly. Many of the books in old times had covers of enormous value.

The ancient Abbey no doubt was a rich one, and much of their wealth would be devoted to their library.'

'Then if these are really precious stones,' said Peggy, 'I suppose they will be worth something. Father said he was afraid the old books were of no value except to people who were fond of such things. We were waiting till our Rector came home to look at them.'

'They are of the utmost value, my dear, not only for the jewelled covers, but for the rare contents and illuminations, which are of a type most scarce and precious. I have not had time to go through the whole contents of the chest, but I should say if these books were put up at Christie's they would realize many thousands of pounds. With your Father's permission, I should like to send down an expert from the Bodleian to examine them.'

'There will be keen bidding with the British Museum if they are put up for sale,' remarked the stout gentleman.

'It would be a most exciting occasion. I should make a point of being present in person, and use all my influence to secure them for Oxford.

There would probably be representatives bidding from all the princ.i.p.al libraries and museums in the kingdom, not to mention the United States and the Continent.'

'But, please, do the books really belong to Father?' asked Peggy, who did not quite understand this conversation.

'Certainly, if your Father is the legal owner of the property. No one else can lay the slightest claim to them, and I congratulate him on the value of his prize.'

'Then--would it be--would it be possible for Father to get the money for them--soon?' faltered Peggy, blus.h.i.+ng scarlet at putting such a question.

'Without doubt it would. If he should wish to realize them at once, the sale could be pushed on in a few weeks, only time should be allowed for the Americans to hear of them, as they always run prices up. If agreeable to your Father, I will call to-morrow morning and discuss the subject with him, and in the meantime I can only beg that all possible care will be taken of these priceless treasures. The chest seems secure from any ravages of rats or mice. Still, I should advise its being carried into the house without further delay. You agree with me, Sedgwick?'

'Certainly; it is wiser to run no risks. By-the-by'--looking at his watch--'may I remind you, Doctor, that our waggonettes are due to start at five o'clock, and it is already half-past. I fear the members of our party will be awaiting us with some impatience at the Bluebell Arms.'

'Dear me,' said the old gentleman, 'I fear I am sadly forgetful! In the society of such enthralling interests I have no conception of the flight of time. To-morrow morning, then, my dear, if your Father will be at liberty, I shall give myself the pleasure of calling upon him;' and regretfully closing the lid, he tore himself away from the old chest, like a reluctant lover from his mistress, and took his departure, leaving Peggy, nearly wild with excitement, to rush tumultuously into the house with her wonderful piece of news.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

'We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial.

We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the n.o.blest, acts the best.'

It was all perfectly true, that was the best part of it. The little old gentleman turned out to be a very learned don from Oxford, with a terrific list of letters at the end of his name, and in the course of a few days a representative arrived from the Bodleian Library with a request to be allowed to inspect the books (which by this time had been removed to a corner of the big drawing-room), and after a considerable amount of talking and writing it was arranged that they should be sent to London at once to be sold by auction. As the old gentleman had prophesied, the sale made quite a sensation among lovers of antiquities, and realized a sum sufficient to put Mr. Vaughan at once out of his difficulties.

'It does not make me a rich man, children,' he said. 'But it is enough to wipe off our debts, and keep the old roof together over our heads. We shall still have to work hard and live carefully, but now that there will not be the continual drain of the interest on the mortgages going out, I shall be able to put more into the land, and carry out the improvements I have been longing to make for years, and in time the estate will pick up, so that I hope when I go to take my place among the old Crusaders in the transept I shall hand it on to the next generation of Vaughans in better condition than I found it.'

To say that the children were delighted at this new turn of fortune's wheel is a very poor way of expressing their rapture. Every corner of the Abbey had to be revisited to feel again the joy of possession; all the animals must be petted as a kind of apology for having even thought of parting with them; and Peggy felt as though she would like to tell the birds and the flowers that they were not going away after all, and give them a chance of joining in the general rejoicings. Soft-hearted Joe wept at the good news, but it was for joy this time; and so many people sent kind messages of congratulation, and expressed such pleasure at hearing they were to remain at the Abbey, that the Vaughans were quite surprised to find how popular they were in the neighbourhood.

The only person who seemed not altogether satisfied was Archie, who had dwelt so much on a colonial future that he was quite disappointed at having to give up the idea.

'I had almost persuaded Aunt to go,' he declared. 'And it would have been ripping fun out there on our ranches. No, I ain't going unless you do! I guess I'll stay in England now, and take to engineering; but it seems half a pity, for we should all have got on tip-top in the new world.'

As Mr. Vaughan had said, the change in his fortunes did not make him a rich man, and though all anxiety was now removed, and even a few extra comforts might be added, matters went on pretty much in the old way at the Abbey. Peggy grew up without many of the luxuries which fall to the lot of richer girls, but she was none the worse for that, and I think, when she saw how bored and uninterested Maud Middleton was in the midst of her round of London society and foreign travel, she felt that it is sometimes better to have the capacity for enjoyment than to have the means without the happy talent of being able to appreciate your good things.

Life was always so well worth living to Peggy, whether at work or play.

Her friends.h.i.+ps were so keen and her affections so warm, that I think she found the world a very pleasant place to be in, and made it better and pleasanter for other people too (which is, after all, the grand secret of happiness), and the energy and enterprising spirits which had caused the tomboy pranks of her childhood were qualities which, turned to good use, proved of the utmost service to her in after-years.

Do I make too much of a little girl who, after all, was no heroine, but who tried her honest best, like many another, to fear G.o.d, tell the truth, and love her neighbour as herself? If so, my love for her bright ways and warm heart must be my excuse, for I have told Peggy's story just as it happened.

Many years have pa.s.sed away since the children played round the old apple-trees in the orchard, or scrambled among the ivy in the ruins, but Gorswen is little changed. The picturesque old black-and-white houses still stand in the village street, unspoilt by time or tourists; Mrs.

Price presides at the Post Office, rubicund and smiling; and old Ephraim totters down from his cottage to the Bluebell Arms, a living testimony to the healthfulness of the district. The flowers are as beautiful as ever in the Rectory garden, but the Rector is not there to tend them. He has gone where little Raymond went before, on that longest of holidays from which there is no return to the lesson-books of this life. He is deeply missed in the village, but he has a worthy successor in Mr.

Wentworth, who now holds the living in his stead, for years of companions.h.i.+p with one who dwelt so continually at the gate of heaven have changed the nervous young curate into a strong and earnest character. He is much liked in Gorswen, and he has Lilian to help him.

Perhaps the fact of their mutual shyness first drew them together, but they have much in common besides an enthusiasm for parish work. She makes an excellent helpmeet, and an ideal clergyman's wife. She has no children of her own, but in mothering the fragile little Indian cousins who are sent home to gain rosy cheeks and st.u.r.dy limbs from the fresh English breezes her warm heart finds its outlet, and she is able to pay back to Aunt Helen some of the love and care which she owes her from long ago.

Bobby is a fine, tall young fellow, fresh from an agricultural college, where he has learnt so much in the way of scientific farming that he intends to make the fields yield the very highest pitch of production.

But already the Abbey has prospered to such an extent that little by little the Vaughans are buying back some of the land which their ancestors had squandered, and in time the estate may once more be of some importance in the county.

And Peggy? I think the Rector's prophecy is justified, and she has grown in every sense into the fine woman which he hoped and expected. She still loves the Abbey dearly, but I do not fancy she will spend all her life there, after all, for Archie, who now owns a prosperous sheep-farm in Australia, is still as anxious as ever for her to try colonial life, and I think that the next time he comes home on a visit to Gorswen he will be able to persuade her.

Peggy does not feel the least little bit older than when she climbed the water-wheel, or thrashed Jones minor behind the paling of the cricket-field--if growing old means losing your ideals, and your keen enthusiasm, and your hopefulness, and a certain appreciation of other people's worth which is our birthright when we are young. She is still capable of climbing a tree or scrambling over a hedge when no one is looking, and pursues her hobbies with all her former vigour and energy.

She is sometimes almost ashamed of feeling, as she says, so ridiculously young, but after all one's age should not always be measured by one's years, and wherever she may go, or whatever she may do, Peggy will keep that most priceless of possessions, the heart of a little child, without which, equally in this world or the next, it is impossible to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.

THE END