The Coo-ee Reciter Part 8

"What?" said the girl, with uncertainty, but not looking at the plain, rugged face that was all aglow with love for her.

"For telling me about the worry--asking me to come. Oh, G.o.d bless you, Nellie! Now tell me."

She sat down on a seat and began to cry, quietly and miserably, till the boy was almost beside himself. At last, between the sobs, he learned her trouble, which was grave indeed. She and her sister had very much wanted to go to a certain ball, and, more than that, to have new dresses for it, of soft white Liberty silk, such as she cut off daily for fortunate customers. But her purse was empty, so, in their emergency, the sisters had hit upon a plan, questionable, indeed, but not dishonestly meant. The sister came to the silk counter and purchased thirty yards of silk, paying 15_s._ for it instead of 3 15_s._

"That was on account; I was only taking a little credit, like other customers," said the little d.u.c.h.ess, with a haughty movement of the head. "On Sat.u.r.day I was going to make out a bill for an imaginary customer, and send the 3 up to the desk to you. Don't imagine I would really wrong the firm by a halfpenny."

"Oh, no," cried the boy eagerly; "it's all right."

"That's not all." The girl began to cry again, hopelessly, miserably. "I had no money to get the dresses made, and the next customer paid 2 10_s._, and--and--I only sent 10_s._ up to you--I wanted to make it just 5 I had borrowed. I thought I might borrow enough, as I was borrowing--don't forget, I would rather have died than have stolen the 5, Mr. Walters."

"Of course, of course, I understand," said the cash clerk, seeing it was a worse fix than he had imagined, but longing to take her in his arms and kiss away the tears.

"And then that horrid Mr. Greaves, who signed first in a hurry, asked for my book and took it for something, and then sent it up to the desk, and the figures are all confused, and the check-leaf isn't the same as I sent to you. I hadn't time to make it right, and when the books are compared to-night it will be noticed, and I shall get into trouble--and, oh, I am so miserable!" The little d.u.c.h.ess was sobbing pitifully.

He kissed her, this time in earnest; on the lips, the cheeks, the hair, the tear-wet eyes. He only recollected himself when a gardener's form, and especially his smile, obtruded themselves upon their notice, and they sat apart looking foolish until the two o'clock bells made them hurry back to the shop.

"I'll put everything right--don't you worry," he said; and she smiled relievedly and went to her counter.

That afternoon he did what all the other years of his life he had deemed it impossible for him to do. He made a neat alteration in his books so that the 5 in question would not be missed. To-morrow, he resolved, he would take 5 of his own and pay it into the account of the firm. The little d.u.c.h.ess should be his debtor, and run no more risks. But, alas, for the morrow!

Before he had fairly taken his seat in the morning--before Nellie had finished fastening at her neck the violets he had brought her--some words were said at his elbow, and he slowly became aware that he--surely it was a dream!--was being arrested for defalcations in his accounts. He learned that for some time past the firm had been aware of considerable discrepancies in the books, and had placed a detective-accountant in the office. Last night, for the first time, the man had discovered, as he thought, a clue, and had convinced the firm that in Walters he had found the offender.

The lad was ashen pale, horror stricken, as he realised how these things must go against him. He could not drag in the name of the little d.u.c.h.ess--even if he did, it would not avail him much; he certainly had altered his books, and to mention the girl's share would only be to have two of them brought to trial, and perhaps to gaol. The little d.u.c.h.ess in gaol! That hair catching the prison-yard suns.h.i.+ne! That slender form clad in the garments of shame! The boy drew a deep breath, gave one very wistful glance at the silk counter, and then walked straight to the manager's room, followed by the policeman.

"I took the 5 yesterday, and brought it back to-day. On my oath before G.o.d, sir, I have never misapplied one farthing of my moneys."

His voice trembled in its eagerness, the deep-set eyes gleamed, and the white lips worked.

"Your purpose, Walters?"

The manager looked hard, disbelieving.

"Direst need. Oh, believe me, sir, I have served you three years honestly as man can serve--yesterday I borrowed this money and brought it back this morning--don't ruin my whole life for that one act."

"Your pressing need yesterday?"

John drew a deep breath again.

"I--can't well tell you."

Then the heads of the firm came in, indignant at their misused trust, and they scorned his story. The defalcations amounted to almost 50 in all, and he had confessed to 5, which had been found upon him. Of course, he and no other was the offender, and they must teach their employes a lesson. So John walked down that long shop by the side of the official, his head very erect, his face pale, and his knees shaking; all his life he would remember the glances of pity, curiosity, and disdain that met him on every side. As he pa.s.sed the silk counter, the little d.u.c.h.ess was measuring a great piece of rose-red, sheeny satin, that gleamed warm and beautiful beneath her hands. She was very white, and in her eyes was a look of abject horror and entreaty; his eyes rea.s.sured her, and he pa.s.sed on and out of the door. All his life he would remember that rose-red satin and its brilliant, glancing lights.

After the trial everyone thought him fortunate to get only two years, and the little d.u.c.h.ess, who had grown thin and old-looking in the interval, breathed freely as she read the account in the papers, and saw that her name was not even mentioned in connection with the matter. He wrote to her a loving, boyish letter, and told her she must be true to him till he came out, and that then they would be married and go away where this could never be heard of.

It was no small thing he had done for her, he knew; and, as he was not more than human, he expected his reward. And the little d.u.c.h.ess had cried quietly over the letter, and for several days cut off silk and satin with a pensive, unhappy look that quite touched her customers--those few among them who realised that it was human flesh and blood at the other side of the yard measure.

Twenty months later the little d.u.c.h.ess was at the same counter measuring silk and satin for the stock-taking, when a note was brought to her in a writing she remembered too well.

"I got out to-day, Nellie. Come down to the Gardens in the lunch-time."

She hesitated when the time came, but he might come to the shop, and that would never do. So she put her hat on thoughtfully and set out for the Gardens.

He was awaiting her on the seat where, nearly two years ago, the gardener had smiled at them. He stood up as she came slowly towards him, and for a minute they gazed at each other without speaking.

She was in black, of course, but fresh and dainty-looking, with a bunch of white chiffon at her throat, little tan shoes on her feet, and her hair showing golden against the black of her lace hat.

For him, his face had altered and hardened; the once thick, curling hair was horribly short, his hands were rough and unsightly, his clothes hung awkwardly upon him, and his linen was doubtful.

"The little d.u.c.h.ess!" he said, dully; then he put out his hand, took her small gloved one, and looked at it curiously.

"I--I am glad you're out," she said, carefully looking away from him.

"Yes--we must be married now, Nellie; that's all I've had to think about all this awful time."

His face flushed a little and his eyes lightened.

"It's good not to see the walls," he added, looking round at the spring's brave show, then away to the blue sparkle in the bay and the glancing sails.

"We mustn't talk of that time, though, ever--eh, Nellie?"

"No," she said, regarding her brown shoes intently.

His eye noted the smooth roundness of her cheek, the delicate pink that came and went, the turn of the white neck.

"Aren't you going to kiss me, Nellie?" he said, slowly; and he drew her a little strangely and awkwardly to him.

Then she spoke.

"I knew it wouldn't be any use, and you'd never have any money or get a place after this. We couldn't be married on nothing, and it would only drag you down to have me, too. I'm not worthy of you."

"Well, little d.u.c.h.ess," he said, softly, as she stopped and faltered; a slow smile crept over his face, and his deep-set eyes lighted up with tenderness.

Not worthy, his little d.u.c.h.ess!

Then the crimson rushed into her face, and she flung up her head defiantly.

"I married the new shop-walker, four months ago!"

_AUSTRALIA'S SPRINGTIME._

'Tis a bright September morning, and Australia's golden Spring Is awak'ning every flow'ret, and retouching every wing; Everywhere the yellow blossoms of the wattle are in view-- Even has the solemn gum tree taken on a lighter hue; And the earth is cover'd over with a vest of fresher green, And the clear cool air adds brightness to the beauty of the scene.

Now the c.o.c.katoo's hoa.r.s.e screaming, and the magpie's cheery call Sound in chorus to the music of the plashy waterfall.