Me and Nobbles Part 19

'Yes,' said Mrs. Allonby when he had finished, 'when we come near the gates, Bobby, and all our life rises before us with all our sins, it is the thought of the Lamb's precious blood that brings us peace and courage. I like the verse about doing His commandments for life; but for death your verse is far and away the best.'

The children could hardly follow this. True climbed upon the bed and sat close to her mother.

'Is it a very nice thing to die, mother?' she asked.

'My darling, it is nice to feel that our dear Saviour is holding me tight. "Lo, I am with you alway," He says to me. And so I am content.'

'Oh,' said Bobby, 'I should like to see the gates open and let you in.

Will you walk up the street by those lovely trees? And will you come to the gates to meet us when it's our time?'

Mrs. Allonby smiled her answer, and Margot now crept softly in and told the children they must go.

'I must have a kiss from each of them,' Mrs. Allonby said feebly. 'I don't think--I never know, Margot, whether I shall get through another night.'

So they kissed her, and reluctantly left the room. That was a strange, long day to them. Mr. Allonby came in and spent the rest of the day in his wife's room. The children had to go to bed without wis.h.i.+ng him good-night. Bobby unhung his picture and placed it on the dressing-table opposite his bed, where he could look at it. In the early morning he lay gazing at it with fascinated eyes. He followed in thought his mother's arrival there, her entrance through the gates, and her triumphal march up to the s.h.i.+ning, golden throne in the distance.

He seemed to hear the blast of trumpets, the rapt singing of the angels attending her, and he was completely lost in his vision when he was suddenly roused by his father's entrance. He looked strangely untidy and wretched, his little boy thought. Bobby was peculiarly susceptible to outside appearances. His father was dressed in his ordinary tweed suit, but his eyes were haggard, his hair rough, his white collar crumpled, and his face heated and tear-stained.

He came in impulsively and threw himself on his knees by his child's bed.

'Oh, Bobby, little chap, she has gone, she has left me, and I've promised to meet her again! We must help each other. May G.o.d Himself teach me, for I'm not fit to teach you. I don't know how I shall get through life without her. I always felt that since her accident she has been too good to live. She never made one murmur.'

Bobby opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, and tears crowded into his eyes.

'Is she really gone, father? Oh, how could G.o.d take her so quick? I did want to say a proper good-bye. Look, father, dear, at my picsher.

Is she inside by this time, do you think? How long does it take to go to heaven?'

Mr. Allonby took up his little son's picture and gazed at it with keen interest, then he put it down with a heavy sigh.

'Yes, she's there right enough, sonny. I don't doubt that. Shall we say a little prayer together--you and I--for I feel quite unable for what is before me.'

So the grown-up man knelt by the small bed, and Bobby jumped up and knelt by his side, and in very broken, faltering accents he prayed:

'Merciful G.o.d, have pity on me and my children; be with us now she has left us. Help me to do my duty; forgive my selfish life. I want to be different; change me; set me right; make me what she wanted me to be.

Bless this boy here, make him a better man than his father. And the little motherless girl--how can I take care of her? Have pity and help us all for Christ's sake. Amen.'

It was a prayer that Bobby never forgot all his life, and he never spoke of it to anyone. Childlike, he kept it wrapped up in his heart.

He was puzzled at his father's distress; he thought no grown-up person ever cried; but his whole being quivered afresh with loving devotion to the father who now had only himself and True to comfort him.

Chapter X.

'WE'RE GOING TO FIND A GOVERNESS!'

Those were strange sad days to Bobby and True. But one engrossing thought helped them along, and that was how they could be a comfort to their father. Margot ordered the household. Mr. Allonby came in and out, speaking little to anyone. He took long walks by himself, and would shut himself up for hours in his den writing, or trying to write, the book that was going to bring him a fortune.

Autumn crept on; the days grew short, and dark, and at last Margot ventured to have a talk with her master.

'It will be about the children's schooling,' she said hesitatingly.

'Miss True is getting a big girl--and Master Bobby----'

'Oh!' groaned her master, 'how am I to send them away from me? But I am thinking over plans, Margot. I want to get away from this tiny house. I think of going to London, and perhaps going abroad again.

Let the children run wild a little longer, then when we move to London I can settle something.'

Margot withdrew. She had said her say, and dreaded any change herself.

One evening after their tea was over, Mr. Allonby broached the subject to the children himself. The little sitting-room was very cosy in the firelight. True was sitting with an air of immense importance trying to darn a worsted sock of her father's. Margot had been giving her lessons, and with a very big needle, and a thread that was so long that it continually got itself into knots, she worked away at an alarming looking hole in the heel.

Bobby and n.o.bbles were lying on the hearthrug; they had been looking at a picture-book together; but directly Mr. Allonby spoke, the book was shut and Bobby was all attention.

'I'm afraid your idle time must soon come to an end,' he said. 'Margot is reminding me what little dunces you are. Can either of you read a book properly yet?'

'I can,' said True. 'I read to Bobby often; but I'm rather tired of my books. I know them all by heart.'

'I can nearly read,' said Bobby. 'I reads to n.o.bbles often.'

'Oh, that's only your make up!' said True, a little scornfully. 'You can't read long words at all; you know you can't. But, dad, you won't send us to school, will you--not away from you?'

'I'm afraid I must.'

Bobby's look of horror made his father smile. He lifted him upon his knee.

'Every boy goes to school, Bobby. You don't want to be a baby always, do you?'

'Mother said,' a.s.serted Bobby gravely, 'that I was to be your little kerpanion; she didn't want me never to leave you.'

'You're a first-rate little companion, sonny. I shall miss you very much; but I must think of your good first. There don't seem to be any nice schools near here, nor do I know of anyone who would come and teach you for an hour or two. And I can't afford to live on here. I must go to London, I think, and set to work at something. I heard to-day from an old friend of mine who wants me to join another exploring party. Perhaps I may do this. In any case I fear our little home will be broken up.'

Bobby looked up into his father's face with a quivering under lip.

'Are you going to send me back to grandmother? I've had such a tiny, weeny time with you. I reely don't think I'll live away from you, father, again. I couldn't expeck and expeck every day for you to come back to me, and then have you never come. And I'll promise true and faithful to be good if you'll take me with you.'

'And I promised mother faithful I'd have a comf'able home for you always, dad. She told me I was to. I don't think she'd like it at all if we was sent away from you.'

Mr. Allonby looked at the eager children's faces thoughtfully.

'I shouldn't be going abroad till the spring. If I could find someone to teach you we might be together for the winter. But I can't stay here. I must be nearer town. We never meant to stay here after the autumn. We came down because of my health. I am well now. Perhaps I can get some cheap lodgings just out of town, where Margot would look after you. We will see.'

'That will be very nice,' said True, darning away with increased speed and importance. 'I'm growing awfully fast, dad, and I'll be able to look after the lodgings for you.'

'And you won't never send me back to grandmother's?' said Bobby anxiously.

No, indeed, I won't. I heard to-day, by-the-bye, that your grandmother was very ill.'

Bobby did not speak for a minute. Then he said slowly:

'I wonder if she'd like to see me afore she dies.'