The Girls of St. Olave's Part 16

The comfort of the kind arms and the kind voice, and above all, the words of hope that carried the childish thoughts straight to happiness and seemed to find his mother for him again, comforted the little heart at once, and Harry's sobs came only with a long drawn breath as he listened.

Tom did not wait for an answer, he went on in the same low, soothing tone.

"Jesus has got such a lovely Home ready for dear mummy and He is getting one ready for little Harry too, and one day Jesus will call Harry and he will see Jesus and dear mummy and the beautiful Home and be so happy."

"Yes," murmured Harry nestling closer. He was so tired of crying and being lonely, and these arms held him so nicely. He gave a deep, deep sigh which somehow spoke of restfulness and of the sorrow being past, and Tom raised himself and looked in the tear-stained face a moment, then kissed it and wiped it with his handkerchief.

"That's better!" he said cheerfully, "would you like a ride on Uncle Tom's shoulder? Uncle Tom is coming home to tea with Harry, and Uncle Tom's awful hungry--he's going to eat a whole big loaf for tea."

Harry laughed gleefully as he found himself swung in an instant on to Uncle Tom's shoulder and was carried along high above all the other little rough children's heads, and was even on a level with Uncle Jim!

By stretching out his hand he could pat the top of Uncle Jim's head; and he laughed again as he gave Uncle Jim a good hard pat.

"You are a clever one, Tom," said Jim admiringly, "how did you pick it up?"

Tom might have said, "Out of my own sorrow," but he only smiled, and told Harry to mind his head as he stopped at Jim's doorway and carried him upstairs to Aunt Jane and the baby.

Harry became Tom's devoted slave thenceforth, and Jim watched the two playing and whispering together almost jealously, and yet he liked Tom too well to really grudge him the child's love, and Tom looked so happy,--happier than Jim had seen him since Pattie gave him up.

Jim took notice too of the way Tom amused the child, how he became a child for the time being, and all the materials he had were trifles from his pockets; a piece of paper and a pencil, a few odd b.u.t.tons and keys, a bit of string and an empty match box!

Jim knew that _his_ ingenuity could never amuse Harry with such things, but he determined to buy some toys that very evening, and to try his hand at winning the child's heart the next evening. Jane took very little notice of any of them and after putting the baby to bed, announced that she had shopping to do, and as Tom saw her slip an empty jug into her shopping basket, he knew what her final destination would be and that she would not return for some considerable time.

"Aren't you going to put the little 'un to bed before you go out, Jane?" he said, "we've had a good spell of play and he's half asleep now."

But Jane deigned no answer, unless the slam of the door as she disappeared on to the stairs, was one.

Jim shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Harry and me, we do the bedding-down between us," he said rather sheepishly, "run and get your nightie, boy."

Then as Harry trotted off, he added in a lower tone, "She won't do nothing for him, so I have to. It's no use arguing over everything and so----"

Tom nodded. "So you have to be father and mother both," he said. "He's more of a little 'un than I expected, but he's a dear little 'un. I've right down enjoyed myself this evening."

The two men between them undressed Harry and superintended his prayers, and tucked him into his bed, and then they sat by the open window and chatted in low tones till the sound of their voices had lulled Harry to sleep, and then at last Tom rose and said he must be going. He went over to the cot and stood looking down on the little sleeping face, with its regular features, its long lashes lying on the bright cheeks, and its crown of tumbled golden hair.

"He's like the pictures of the angels," he said regretfully, "if Pattie and I had had our little home, we'd have loved to let him stay with us a bit, but I'll come in on Sat.u.r.day and take him on the river, if you'll let me. It seems so long since I had anybody to go out with."

"Poor old Tom," said Jim affectionately, "it's cut you very hard, but I always believe it will come all right, you know!"

"Pooh!" said an unexpected voice behind them, "you would always believe anything silly, Jim Adams! Come right, indeed! Very likely!

You just wait till I have seen Miss Pattie Paul again."

"Have you seen her?" asked Tom in a curiously quiet tone. He had gone very pale, but his face was in shadow and Jane did not perceive it or anything peculiar in his voice.

"Ha!" she cried vaingloriously, "I have! I let her know what I thought of her--mean little cat."

"Jane!" said her husband warningly.

"Oh, you needn't stand up for her," she said airily. "I'm not going to stand by and see my brother treated so. But what's a talking-to with a brazen hussy like that? Wait a bit, I haven't thought how to do it yet, but I'm going to pay her out. Trust me!"

And then Jim did what he had never done in his life before,--he took his wife by the shoulders and forcibly marched her into the bedroom and shut the door upon her.

"Come, Tom!" he said touching him gently on the shoulder, "we've had enough of this."

They pa.s.sed down the stairs together, but on the landing below Tom stopped, and covering his face with his hands, leaned against the wall.

"Oh Pattie, Pattie," he moaned, "that's my last chance gone. And my own sister too."

Jim said nothing. He was not good at words, but he waited till Tom had recovered himself, and then he went right to his home with him and made a cup of tea for him and sat and chatted till past midnight.

"Don't be downhearted, old fellow," he said when he parted from him.

But as he went home again he muttered to himself and frowned.

"I wonder what Jane means to do? I wonder what she _could_ do?"

CHAPTER XVI.

LINKS IN A CHAIN.

Gertrude had never had such a summer of gaieties.

She had not long returned from Whitecliff when a young American, cousin to Pauline Stacey, with a long purse and unlimited ideas of enjoying himself, made his appearance in Old Keston.

He had "done" England, and wished to stay with his Aunt Stacey "for a few days" before going on to Switzerland, and with his cousin Pauline's very ready help, he inaugurated a series of boating excursions, moonlight strolls, tennis matches and picnics, which lengthened his visit into weeks instead of days, and in which Gertrude, to her great delight, found herself involved from the very first. Pauline Stacey had long ago found Gertrude a far more congenial spirit than her first friend, Denys, had ever been, so that though Denys was occasionally invited to the American's festivities, it generally fell out that Gertrude and Willie or Gertrude and Conway, but always Gertrude, helped to make up the large parties, without which the American could not be satisfied and which stirred up and drew together the social side of Old Keston in an unprecedented manner.

The weather was glorious, and Gertrude spent every halfpenny she could sc.r.a.pe together on white frocks, and though she professed to hate needlework, she suddenly became extremely industrious and worked early and late, turning out dainty blouses which far outshone Denys's creations and astounded her family. On Sat.u.r.day mornings she gave up all her usual avocations, denied herself to the general public, and devoted her energies to the wash-tub and the ironing board, the result of which operations she proudly displayed in a pile of muslins which would have done credit to an experienced laundry-maid.

"People think I can't do things," she said complacently to her mother, "Denys is not the only one who can get up frocks and make blouses."

"Very likely not," muttered Conway, who overheard the remark, "you only do them when it is for yourself. Denys does them every day for everybody else."

Gertrude carefully laid by her freshly got up stock of elegancies, and stretched her tired back on the bed which they had occupied, hoping to get half an hour's sleep before she dressed for a picnic.

"Money would have sent all those horrid frills to the laundry and saved me a backache," she said to herself, "frills are bad enough to make, but they are infinitely worse to iron. Of course I want money to do things with! I don't want to be poor all my life."

Then she smiled as she closed her eyes and composed herself to sleep.

"I believe I really _am_ having my chance," she reflected. "I know pretty nearly everybody who is worth knowing here now."

And then, as so often happened when Gertrude contemplated her matrimonial prospects, a vision of Reggie Alston rose up before her, and disturbed her serenity.

"Reggie _was_ a nice boy--it is a pity he is poor," she thought regretfully, and then she suddenly sprang into a sitting posture, all thought of sleep completely banished from her mind.