Johnny Ludlow Second Series Part 98

"Thank you, Johnny. Thank you both. I _will_ take heart. And if I live to return, I hope I shall thank you better."

Later we dared not stay; it was past nine now. I bade Fred good-bye, and G.o.d-speed.

"Between half-past twelve and one, mind, will be your time; you'll hear the clock strike," was Tod's parting injunction, given in a whisper.

"Good luck to you, old fellow! I hope and trust you'll dodge the enemy.

And as soon as you are clear of the churchyard, make off as if the d.i.c.kens were behind you."

"Here's the key, Mr. b.u.mford," I said, while Tod stole off with his bundle the other way, Fred's boots, and hair, and all that. "You won't be bothered for it next week, for I shall be off to school again."

"Thought you'd took up your lodging inside for the night," grunted b.u.mford. "Strikes me, Master Ludlow, it's more play nor work with you."

"As it is with a good many of us, b.u.mford. Good-night!"

We walked home in the moonlight, silent enough, Tod handing me the bundles to carry. The Squire attacked us, demanding whether we had stayed out to look at the moon.

And I tossed and turned on my restless bed till the morning hours, thinking of poor Fred Westerbrook, and of whether he would get away.

When sleep at last came, it brought me a very vivid dream of him. I thought he did _not_ get away: he was unable to unlock the church-door.

Whether Tod and I had double-locked it in leaving, I knew not; but Fred could not get it open. When Clerk b.u.mford entered the church in the morning, and the early comers of the congregation with him, there stood Fred, hopelessly waiting to be taken. I saw him as plainly in my dream as I had ever seen him in reality: with the dirty smock-frock, and the patched boots, and the clipped hair. Shepherd, who seemed to follow me in, darted forward and seized him; and in the confusion I awoke. Just for a minute I thought it was true--a scene actually enacted. Would it prove so?

XVI.

THE SYLLABUB FEAST.

"You have gone and done a fine thing, Master Johnny Ludlow!"

The salutation came from Clerk b.u.mford. He was standing at the church-door on Sunday morning, looking out as if he expected me, his face pale and stern. I had run on betimes: in fact, before the bell began.

"What have I done, b.u.mford?"

"Why, you just went and left this here church open last night! You never locked it up! When I come in but now, I found the door right on the latch; never as much as shut!"

Beginning to protest till all was blue that I _had_ shut and locked the door--as I knew too well--caution pulled me up, and whispered me to take the blame.

"I'm sure I thought I locked it, b.u.mford. I never left it unlocked before, and I'll take care I never leave it so again."

"Such a thing as having the church open for a night was never heered of," he grumbled, turning away to ring out the first peal of the bell.

"Why, I might have had all my store o' candles stole! there's nigh a pound on 'em, in here. And my black gownd--and the parson's gownd--and his surplice! Besides the grave-digging tools, and other odds and ends."

Shutting himself into his den underneath the belfry, and tugging away at the cords, the bell tinkled out, warning the parish that it was time to start for morning service. The bell-ringer was a poor old man named j.a.phet, who was apt to be a little late. Upon which b.u.mford would begin the ringing, and blow j.a.phet up when he came.

Not a soul was yet in church. I went down the middle aisle softly calling Fred Westerbrook's name. He did not answer; and I hoped to my heart he had got clear away. The open entrance-door seemed to indicate that he had; and I thought he might have left it undone in case he had to make a bolt back again. Nevertheless, I could not shake off the remembrance of my unpleasant dream.

Of all troublesome idiots, that b.u.mford was the worst. When I went back, after pa.s.sing by all the remote nooks and corners, j.a.phet had taken his place at the bell, and he was telling the parson of my sins.

"Right on the latch all the blessed night, your reverence," protested b.u.mford. "We might have found the whole church ransacked this morning."

Mr. Holland, a mild man, with stout legs, and cares of his own, looked at me with a half-smile. "How was it, Johnny?"

"I have a.s.sured b.u.mford, sir, that it shall not happen again. I certainly thought I had locked it when I took him back the key. No harm has come of it."

"But harm might ha' come," persisted b.u.mford. "Look at all them candles in there! and the gownds and surplices! Pretty figures we should ha'

cut, saving his reverence's presence, with nothing to put upon our backs this here blessed morning!"

"Talking of the key, I missed mine this morning," remarked Mr. Holland.

"Have you taken it away for any purpose, b.u.mford?"

"What, the t'other church-key!" exclaimed b.u.mford. "Not I, sir. I'd not be likely to fetch that key when I've got my own--and without your reverence's knowledge either!"

"Well, I cannot find it anywhere," said Mr. Holland. "It generally lies on the mantelpiece at home, and it is not there this morning."

He went into the vestry with the last words. To hear that the church-key generally lay on the mantelpiece, was nothing; for the parson's house was not noticeable for order. There would have been none in it at all but for Edna.

Close upon that, arrived Shepherd, a folded paper in his hand. It contained a request that Gisby might be prayed for in the Litany.

"What, ain't he dead yet?" asked b.u.mford.

"No," returned Shepherd. "The doctors be afraid that internal inflammation's a-setting in now. Any way, he is rare and bad, poor man."

Next came in my set of singers, chiefly boys and girls from the parish school. But they sang better than such children generally sing; and would have sung very well indeed with an organist who had his head on his shoulders the proper way. Mrs. Todhetley had long taken pains with them, but latterly it had all been upset by Richards's crotchets.

"Now, look here," said I, gathering them before me. "We are not going to have any shrieking to-day. We sing to praise G.o.d, you know, and He is in the church with you and hears you; He is not a mile or two away, that you need shout out to be heard all that distance."

"Please, sir, Mr. Richards tells us to sing out loud: as loud as ever we can. Some on us a'most cracks our voices at it."

"Well, never mind Mr. Richards to-day. I am going to play, and I tell you to sing softly. If you don't, I shall stop the organ and let you shout by yourselves. You won't like that. To shout and shriek in church is more irreverent than I care to talk about."

"Please, sir, Mr. Richards plays the organ so loud that we can't help it."

"I wish you'd let Mr. Richards alone. You won't hear the organ loud to-day. Do you say your prayers when you go to bed at night?"

This question took them aback. But at last the whole lot answered that they did.

"And do you say your prayers softly, or do you shout them out at the top of your voices? To my mind, it is just as unseemly to shout when singing in church, as it would be when praying. This church has been like nothing lately but the ranter's chapel. There, take your seats, and look out the places in your Prayer-books."

I watched the different groups walk into church. Our people were pretty early. Tod slipped aside as they went up the aisle to whisper me a question--Had Fred got clear away? I told him I thought so, hearing and seeing nothing to the contrary. When the parson's children came in, Mrs.

Holland was with them, so that Edna Blake was enabled to join the singers, as she did when she could. But it was not often Mrs. Holland came to church. Edna had dark circles round her eyes. They looked out at mine with a painful inquiry in their depths.

"Yes, I think it is all right," I nodded in answer.

"Mr. Holland has missed his church-key," she whispered. "Coming along to church, Charley suddenly called out that he remembered hiding it in Mr.

Fred Westerbrook's coat-pocket. Mrs. Holland seemed quite put out about it, and asked me how I could possibly have allowed _him_ to come into the study and sit there."

"There's old Westerbrook, Edna! Just look! His face is fiercer than usual."