Jill's Red Bag Part 21

Sir Henry did not laugh. He only stood and looked at her.

"And what do you say to them when you see them?"

"That's the difficult part," said Jill. "I don't quite know what to say. I've been to one widow, and she wouldn't let me in, and I've been to another, and made her cry."

"And now you're looking for a third. Well, I will help you. Do you see that big house behind the trees over there? A widow lives there, and her name is Mrs. Beresford. Go and see her, and make her cry if you can."

"But I don't want to make them cry,' said Jill. 'Will she like to see me?"

"I should think she would. I should, if I were a widow."

"Has she any children? I want to visit some fatherless."

"Happy thought! Come home and have some tea with me. I'm a fatherless creature. My father died when I was an infant."

"I think," said Jill slowly, "the Bible means poor widows and fatherless.

You aren't in affliction, are you?"

"No," said Sir Henry. "I can hardly say I am."

"Then thank you very much, but I shall have to look for some really poor people."

And nothing that he could say would induce her to accompany him home.

She plodded back to the village, but before she reached it, she came upon a little party of tramps who had drawn up their pony and cart by the roadside, and were eating their evening meal.

They were not prepossessing in appearance. Two women, both of whom seemed careworn and down-trodden, four children, ragged and dirty, and a sullen, bad-tempered looking man. Jill looked at them with interest. One of the women had a rusty piece of c.r.a.pe on her bonnet.

It was that which prompted Jill to speak.

"Are you a widow?" she asked.

The woman stared at her, but the elder one of the two gave her a nudge, then answered for her.

"Yes, little lady, she be, indeed; lost her por husban' a few weeks ago, an' leaves 'er with three chillen under four year. 'Ave you a copper, miss, to give 'er? for she be on her way to the 'ouse."

"I'm afraid I haven't any money," said Jill, "but I'll sit down and talk to her. It's what I came out to do--to visit widows."

The man eyed Jill up and down in a way that she did not much like, but she was a fearless child, and was so full of the part she meant to play that she did not think of anything else.

"I suppose you are in affliction," she said, gazing sympathetically into the woman's face. "I'm so sorry for you. Do tell me which are your little children."

The woman looked at Jill with dull, curious eyes. She indicated her little ones by a backward movement of her thumb.

"And what house are you going to?" asked Jill.

"There be only one 'ouse for the likes o' me," the woman responded bitterly; then she turned her head to watch the approach of a carriage.

Jill enticed one of the small children to come to her. She heard a carriage pa.s.s, but did not look up, then she was startled by her name being called, and sprang to her feet.

Mona was calling her, for it was she and Miss Webb who were driving by.

Mona's disgust was great at seeing a party of the lowest cla.s.s of tramps sitting by the roadside, and her little sister in the midst of them. She spoke very sharply--

"Come here at once, Jill! What do you mean by disgracing yourself and us so?"

Jill turned to the woman politely.

"I'm sorry I have to go," she said. "Good-bye."

She insisted on shaking hands, then came up to the carriage-door, looking a little defiant.

"Get in at once, and we will drive home. How is it, Miss Webb, that even with this immaculate Miss Falkner these children are for ever getting into sc.r.a.pes?"

Jill climbed into the carriage, feeling very uncomfortable under her sister's scrutiny. She was conscious that she was very heated and untidy; Mona's fresh daintiness made her feel her own deficiency in neatness.

"Give me an explanation of this at once, you naughty child," said Mona peremptorily.

Jill's eyes flashed.

"I'm not naughty," she said indignantly; "I've--I've been visiting widows."

Miss Webb scented amus.e.m.e.nt. She sat up straight, and tapped Jill's knee with her pince-nez.

"That's very interesting," she said. "Of course, visiting widows is not a sin. But who told you to do it? And why did you pick out a family of tramps to work off your energy upon?"

Jill shut her mouth firmly. She keenly resented Miss Webb's tone of ridicule, and determined to say no more.

Mona gave her a long lecture upon the dangers to which she had exposed herself in making friends with tramps, and when they reached home she was delivered over to her governess with a sharp injunction to punish her for running away, and keep her in the school-room for the rest of the evening.

"So that's what I get for trying to be double good!" said poor Jill when she was in bed that night. "I never will try it again!"

"Perhaps," said b.u.mps with wisdom beyond her years, "it wasn't quite the right way to be it!"

X

A PAPER CHASE

Sam Stone did not hold out very long. Jill pursued him everywhere, and was never tired of dilating on his selfishness and greediness, in refusing to give up a tenth of his weekly wage.

She was beside herself with delight one day, when he came to her with a two-s.h.i.+lling piece.

"That be my portion for that there scarlet bag, missy," he said. "I'll stick to it for a bit an' give it reg'lar every week, but if-so-be that I be wantin' of it, well I must have it. That's all I can say, an'

I hope fayther won't miss his comforts through it!"

"You must _never_ go back from it," said Jill looking up at him solemnly. "It's a vow! You can't break a vow, it's a much more solemn thing than a promise!"