The Oriel Window
The little boy lay still and listened. In a minute or two he heard footsteps coming upstairs. Then a slight tap at the door – Thomas's tap – and almost without waiting for an answer, the footman came in.
"It's Jesse, Master Ferdy," he began. "Jesse Piggot. He's run all the way from Bollins, and he's pretty well done. He's begging to see you. He's in some trouble, but he won't tell me what. I'm afraid your mamma won't be best pleased if I let him up, but I don't know what to do, he seems in such a state."
Ferdy raised himself a little on his couch. There must be something very much the matter for Jesse, merry, light-hearted Jesse, to be in a "state" at all.
"Let him come up at once, Thomas, I'll put it all right with mamma," he began, but before Thomas had time for any more hesitation the matter was taken out of his hands by Jesse's short-cropped, dark head appearing in the doorway.
"Oh, Master Ferdy!" he exclaimed, in a choking voice, "mayn't I come in?"
"Of course," said Ferdy quickly. "It's all right, Thomas," with a touch of impatience, "I'll call you if I want you," and Thomas discreetly withdrew, closing the door behind him.
"They're after me, Master Ferdy," were Jesse's first words, "at least I'm afraid they are, though I tried my best to dodge them."
"Who?" exclaimed Ferdy.
"The p'lice and Bill Turner's father, and a lot of them, and oh, Master Ferdy, some one called out he was killed!"
"Who?" said Ferdy again, though his own cheeks grew white at Jesse's words. "And what is it that's happened, and what do you want me to do. You must tell me properly, Jesse."
It said a good deal for Ferdy's self-control that he was able to speak so quietly and sensibly, for he was feeling terribly startled. Jesse choked down his gasping breath, which was very nearly turning into sobs.
"I didn't want to frighten you, Master Ferdy. I didn't ought to, I know, but I couldn't think what else to do. It's that Bill Turner, Master Ferdy," and at the name he gave a little shudder. "He was in the class once, but it was only out of mischief. He did no good and tried to upset the others. So Barney and I wouldn't keep him at no price, and he's gone on getting nastier and nastier, and the other day he 'called' me – he did – so that I couldn't stand it, and I went for him. It didn't hurt him, but it made him madder than ever, and he said he'd pay me out. And this afternoon when Barney and me were sorting the carvings at the shed – we've a box we keep them all in, there – Bill comes down upon us, him and some others. They got hold of 'em all and smashed 'em up and kicked them to pieces – all to pieces, Master Ferdy" – with a sort of wail, almost of despair, in his voice. "All the things we've been at for so long! We were going to make a show of them at Christmas; and I couldn't stand it, I went at him like a wild beast – it was for the other lads I minded so – though he's much bigger nor me, and I got him down, and he lay there without moving, and some one called out he was dead, and then the p'lice came, and one of 'em caught hold of me, but I got loose and I started running – I scarce knew what I was doing. I just thought I'd get here, and you'd tell me what to do. He can't be dead, Master Ferdy," he went on, dropping his voice – "you don't think he can be? I didn't seem to know what it meant till I got here and began to think."
"I don't know," said Ferdy, again growing very pale, while poor Jesse's face was all blotched in great patches of red and white, and smeared with the tears he had tried to rub off. "Oh, I do wish papa and mamma would come in! I don't know what to do. Do you think they saw you running this way, Jesse?"
"I – I don't know, Master Ferdy. I hope not, but there was a lot of the boys about – Draymoor boys, I mean – Bill's lot, and they may have tracked me. Of course none of my boys," he added, lifting his head proudly, "would peach on me, whatever the p'lice did."
But even as he spoke, there came, faintly and confusedly, the sound of approaching steps along the road just beyond the hedge, and a murmur of several voices all talking together. It might not have caught Ferdy's attention at any other time, but just now both his ears and Jesse's were sharpened by anxiety.
"They're a coming, Master Ferdy," exclaimed the poor boy, growing still whiter.
"Never mind," said Ferdy, trying hard to be brave, "Thomas is all right, he won't let them come up here."
"Oh, but maybe he can't stop them," said Jesse. "The p'lice can force their way anywheres. I wouldn't mind so much if it had to be – like if your papa was here and said I must go to prison. But if they take me off now with no one to speak up for me, seems to me as if I'd never get out again."
Poor Ferdy was even more ignorant than Jesse of everything to do with law and prisons and the like; he looked about him almost wildly.
"Jesse," he said in a whisper. "I know what to do. Creep under my couch and lie there quite still. Thomas is all right, and nobody else saw you come up, did they?"
"No one else saw me at all," Jesse replied, dropping his voice, and going down on his hands and knees, "better luck. I'll keep still, no fear, Master Ferdy," his boyish spirits already rising again at the idea of "doing the p'lice," "and they'd never dare look under your sofa."
He scrambled in, but put his head out again for a moment to whisper in an awestruck tone, "But oh, Master Ferdy, if they do come up here, please try to find out if Bill Turner's so badly hurt as they said. I know it can't be true that I did as bad as that."
All the same he was terribly frightened and remorseful. Ferdy scarcely dared to reply, for by this time a group of men and boys was coming up the drive, and a constable in front marched along as if he meant business, for as Ferdy watched them, he turned round and waved back the eight or ten stragglers who were following him, though he still held by the arm a thin, pale-faced little fellow whom he had brought with him all the way. This was Barney, poor Jesse's first lieutenant.
Another minute or two passed. Then hurrying steps on the stairs again, and Thomas reappeared, looking very excited.
"Master Ferdy," he exclaimed, but stopped short on seeing that his little master was alone. "Bless me!" he ejaculated under his breath, "he's gone! and I never saw him leave the house."
"What is it, Thomas?" said Ferdy, trying to speak and look as usual. "I saw the constable come in – you must tell him papa's out."
"I have told him so, sir, and I'm very sorry, but he will have it he must see you. Some one's been and told that Jesse ran this way."
"Let him come up then," said Ferdy, with dignity, "though I'm sure papa will be very angry, and I don't believe he's any right to force his way in! But I'm not afraid of him!" proudly.
"Master will be angry for certain," said Thomas, "very angry, and I've told the constable so. But he's in a temper, and a very nasty one, and won't listen to reason. He says them Draymoor boys are getting past bearing. I only hope," he went on, speaking more to himself, as he turned to leave the room again, "I only hope he won't get me into a scrape too for letting him up to frighten Master Ferdy – not that he is frightened all the same!"
CHAPTER XI
UNDER THE SOFA
Two minutes later the burly form of Constable Brownrigg appeared at the door. He was already, to tell the truth, cooling down a little and beginning to feel rather ashamed of himself; and when his eyes lighted on the tiny figure in the window – looking even smaller and more fragile than Ferdy really was – the clumsy but far from bad-hearted man could at first find nothing to say for himself. Then —
"I beg pardon, sir, I hope I haven't upset you, but dooty's dooty!"
Ferdy raised his head a little, and looked the constable straight in the face, without condescending to notice the half apology.
"What is it you want of me?" he said coldly.
"It's all along of that there Jesse Piggot," replied Brownrigg, "as bad a lot as ever were!"
"What's he been doing?" said Ferdy again in the same tone, rather turning the tables upon the constable, as if he – Brownrigg – and not Ferdy himself, was the one to be cross-questioned.
The man glanced round him half suspiciously.
"He was seen coming here, sir."
"Well, suppose he had come here, you can't take him up for that?" said the boy. "I'm asking you what harm he'd done."
"He got up a row at Bollins this afternoon, and half killed a poor lad – Bill Turner by name – threw him down and half stunned him."
"Half stunned him," repeated Ferdy, "that's not quite the same as half killing him. Have you sent him to the hospital?"
"Well no, sir," said the constable, "he come to again – them boys has nine lives more than cats. I don't suppose he's really much the worse. But these Draymoor fights must be put a stop to, they're getting worse and worse; I've had orders to that effect," drawing himself up.
"And has Jesse Piggot been mixed up with them lately?" said Ferdy severely.
Again the constable looked rather small.
"Well no, sir," he repeated, "but what does that matter, if he's been the offender to-day."
This was true enough.
"But what do you want me to do?" asked Ferdy.
"To detain the lad if he comes here and give him up to the lawful authorities," said Brownrigg more fluently. "Everybody knows you've been very kind to him, but it's no true kindness to screen him from the punishment he deserves."
A new idea struck Ferdy.
"Did he begin the fight then?" he said. "There's such a thing as – as defending oneself, quite rightly. Supposing the other boy started it?"
"That will be all gone into in the proper time and place," said Brownrigg pompously. "An example must be made, and – "
Before he had time to finish his sentence Ferdy interrupted him joyfully. He had just caught sight of the pony-carriage driving in rapidly. For some garbled account of what had happened had been given to Mr. Ross by the group of men and boys still hanging about the gates, and he hurried in, afraid of finding his boy startled and upset.
Nor did the sight of the stout constable reassure him. On the contrary it made Mr. Ross very indignant. He scarcely noticed Brownrigg's half-apologetic greeting.
"What's all this?" he said sharply. "Who gave you leave to come up here and disturb an invalid?"
Brownrigg grew very red, and murmured something about his "dooty."
"You've exceeded it in this case, I think you'll find," the master of the house replied severely. "Step downstairs if you please, and then I'll hear what you've got to say," and to Ferdy's inexpressible relief, for the consciousness of Jesse's near presence was beginning to make him terribly nervous.
Mr. Ross held the door wide open and the constable shamefacedly left the room. Scarcely had he done so when there came a subterranean whisper, "Master Ferdy," it said, "shall I come out?"
"No, no," Ferdy replied quickly. "Stay where you are, Jesse, unless you're choking. Mamma will be coming in most likely. Wait till papa comes back again, and I can tell him all about it."
Rather to Ferdy's surprise, the answer was a sort of giggle.
"I'm all right, thank you, Master Ferdy – as jolly as a sand-boy. And you did speak up to the old bobby, Master Ferdy; you did set him down. But I'm right down glad Bill Turner's none the worse, I am. It give me a turn when they called out I'd done for him."
And Ferdy understood then that the giggle came in part from relief of mind.
"Hush now, Jesse," he said. "I want to watch for Brownrigg's going. And till he's clear away, you'd best not come out, nor speak."
There was not very long to wait. For though Mr. Ross spoke out his mind very plainly to the constable, he made short work of it, and within ten minutes of the man leaving the oriel room, Ferdy had the pleasure, as he announced to Jesse in a sort of stage whisper, of seeing the worthy Mr. Brownrigg walking down the drive, some degrees less pompously than on his arrival. Nor was he now accompanied by poor little Barney, whom Mr. Ross had kept back, struck by pity for the lad's white, frightened face, as the constable
"It's all right now, Jesse," Ferdy added in a minute or two. "He's quite gone – old Brownrigg, I mean – so you'd better come out."
Jesse emerged from his hiding-place, a good deal redder in the face than when he went in, though he was still trembling inwardly at the idea of meeting Ferdy's father.
"You don't think, Master Ferdy – " he was beginning, when the door opened and both Mr. and Mrs. Ross came in.
"Ferdy, darling," exclaimed his mother, "you've not been really frightened, I hope – " but she stopped short, startled by an exclamation from her husband.
"Jesse!" he said. "You here after all! Upon my word!" And for a moment he looked as if he were really angry. Then the absurd side of the matter struck him, and it was with some difficulty that he suppressed a smile.
"My dear boy," he went on, glancing at the tiny, but determined-looking figure on the couch, "you'll be having your poor old father pulled up for conniving at felony."
"I don't know what that is, papa," said Ferdy. "But if it means hiding Jesse under the sofa – yes, I did do it, and I'd do it again. It wasn't Jesse thought of it, only he was afraid that if Brownrigg took him away he'd be put in prison and have nobody to speak up for him, and perhaps have been kept there for ever and ever so long."
"Your opinion of the law of the land is not a very high one apparently, Jesse," said Mr. Ross, eying the boy gravely.
Jesse shuffled and grew very red.
"I'll do whatever you think right, sir," he said stoutly. "If I must give myself up to Brownrigg, I'll run after him now. I don't want to get Master Ferdy nor you into any bother about me, after – after all you've done for me," and for the first time the boy broke down, turning his face away to hide the tears which he tried to rub off with the cuff of his sleeve.
"Oh, papa," said Ferdy pleadingly, his own eyes growing suspiciously dewy, "mamma, mamma, look at him."
Up to that moment, to tell the truth, Mrs. Ross's feelings towards Jesse had not been very cordial. The sight of him had startled her and made her almost as indignant with him as with the constable. But now her kind heart was touched. She glanced at her husband, but what she saw already in his face set her mind at rest.
"Come, come," said Mr. Ross, "don't put yourself out about it, Ferdy. Tell me the whole story quietly, or let Jesse do so," and after swallowing one or two sobs, Jesse found voice to do as he was desired. He told his tale simply and without exaggeration, though his voice shook and quivered when he came to the sad part of the destruction of the many weeks' labour of himself and his "pupils," and Mrs. Ross could not keep back a little cry of indignation.
"It is certainly not Jesse who deserves punishment," she said eagerly, turning to her husband.
"If he could have controlled himself," said Mr. Ross, "to the point of not knocking down that bully, Turner, his case would have been a still stronger one. Do you see that, my boy?" he went on, turning to Jesse, who murmured something indistinctly in reply.
"I'm glad he did knock him down all the same, papa," said Ferdy. "You don't now think Jesse need give himself up to the p'lice?" he added anxiously.
"Certainly not," said Mr. Ross, "but it will be best for me to see Brownrigg and tell him all I now know – except – no I don't think I will tell him of the hiding-place under your sofa, Ferdy." Then turning again to Jesse, "To-morrow is Sunday," he said; "do you generally go to see your friends at Draymoor on a Sunday?"
"Sometimes," said Jesse; "not always, sir."
"Then they won't think anything of it if they don't see you to-morrow?"
"Oh lor, no," Jesse replied. "They'd think nothing of it if they never saw me again. It's only Barney that cares for me or me for him of all that lot."
"Oh yes, by the bye – Barney!" said Mr. Ross, starting up. "I left him downstairs, poor little fellow. He is in my study – you know where that is, Jesse, run and fetch him," and Jesse, delighted at this proof of confidence, started off quite cheerfully on his errand.
When he was out of hearing, Mr. Ross said thoughtfully, "It won't do for that lad to remain in this neighbourhood, I see. I must have a talk about him again with Dr. Lilly, and probably with Brock. Something must be decided as to his future, and if he really has talent above the average he must be put in the right way towards making it of use."
Ferdy's eyes sparkled; sorry as he would be to be parted from Jesse, this was what he, as well as Miss Lilly, had long been hoping for. Before he had time to say anything, a tap at the door told that the two boys were outside.
"Come in," said Mr. Ross, and then Jesse reappeared, half leading, half pushing his small cousin before him.
Mrs. Ross was touched by Barney's white face and general air of delicacy.
"Don't look so scared," she heard Jesse whisper to him.
"You must be tired, Barney," she said kindly. "Jesse and you must have some tea before you go back to Draymoor."
"Jesse's not to go back to Draymoor, mamma," said Ferdy, looking up quickly.
"No," said Mr. Ross, "that is what I wish to speak to Barney about. Will you tell your father, Barney – is it to your father's house that Jesse goes on Sundays generally?"
"No, sir, please, sir, I haven't a father – mother and me's alone. It's my uncle's."
"Well, then, tell your uncle from me," continued Mr. Ross, "that I think it best to keep Jesse here at present, and that he was not to blame for the affair this afternoon. I shall see the constable again about it myself."
Barney's face expressed mingled relief and disappointment.
"Yes, sir," he said obediently. "There'll be no more classes then, I suppose?" he added sadly. "Is Jesse not even to come as far as Bollins?"
"Not at present," replied Mr. Ross, and then, feeling sorry for the little fellow, he added: "If your mother can spare you, you may come over here to-morrow and have your Sunday dinner with your cousin in the servants' hall."
Both boys' faces shone with pleasure.
"And will you tell the lads, Barney," said Jesse, "how it's all been. And what I minded most was their things being spoilt."
Barney's face grew melancholy again.
"Don't look so downhearted," said Mr. Ross. "We won't forget you and the other boys. Your work has already done you great credit."
Ferdy's lips opened as if he were about to speak, but the little fellow had learnt great thoughtfulness of late, and he wisely decided that what he had to say had better be kept till he was alone with his parents.
Just then Christine made her appearance, very eager to know more about the constable's visit and the exciting events of the afternoon. So Mrs. Ross left her with her brother while she herself took the two boys downstairs to put them into the housekeeper's charge for tea, of which both struck her as decidedly in need.
"Papa," said Ferdy, when he had finished going over the whole story again for his sister's benefit, "don't you think if Jesse has to go away that I might take on the class, one or two evenings a week any way? Mr. Brock might come sometimes – extra, you know – just to see how they were getting on. And they would be quite safe here, and nobody would dare to spoil their things."
"And Miss Lilly and I would help," said Christine eagerly. "There are some of them, Jesse has told us, that want to learn other things – not only wood-carving – that we could help them with. Miss Lilly's been having lessons herself in basket-making."
"Dr. Lilly has reason to be proud of his granddaughter," said Mr. Ross warmly. "We must talk it all over. It would certainly seem a terrible pity for the poor fellows to lose what they have gained, not merely in skill, but the good habit of putting to use some of their leisure hours – miners have so much idle time."
"There's the big empty room downstairs near the servants' hall," said Ferdy. "Could not I be carried down there, papa?"
Mr. Ross hesitated. He felt doubtful, but anxious not to disappoint the boy, for as his eyes rested on the fragile little figure and he realised what Ferdy's future life might be, he could not but think to himself how happy and healthy a thing it was that his child should be so ready to interest himself in others, instead of becoming self-engrossed and discontented.
"We must see what Mr. Stern says," he replied, "and – yes, it will soon be time for the other doctor's visit. It would be a long walk from Draymoor for the lads."
"They wouldn't mind," said Ferdy decisively.
"And now and then," said Christine, "we might give them tea for a treat – once a month or so. Oh! it would be lovely!"
CHAPTER XII
ANOTHER BIRTHDAY
Again a spring morning, only two or three years ago. Evercombe and the Watch House look much as they did when we first saw them; one could fancy that but a few months instead of ten years had passed since then. The swallows are there, established in their summer quarters above the oriel window, the same and yet not the same, though their chirping voices may, for all we know, be telling of the little boy who for so long lay on his couch below, and loved them so well.
He is not there now, nor is his couch in its old place. Instead of the small white face and eager blue eyes, there stands at the post of observation a tall young girl, a very pretty girl, with a bright flush of happy expectancy on her fair face.
"Mamma, mamma," she exclaims to some one farther in the shade of the room. "I think I hear wheels. Surely it will be they this time! If it isn't I really shan't have patience to stand here any longer."
But "this time" her hopes were fulfilled. Another moment and a carriage, which Christine, for Christine of course it was, quickly recognised as their own, turned in at the lodge gates. And before those inside had time to look up at the window, Chrissie had flown downstairs followed by her mother.
"Ferdy, Ferdy," she exclaimed, as the carriage-door opened, and her brother, his face flushed with pleasure equal to her own, got out, slowly, and with a little help from his father, for the young man was slightly lame, though his face told of health and fair strength. He was sunburnt and manly looking, full of life and happy eagerness.
"Isn't he looking well, mamma?" said Chrissie, when the first loving greetings had sobered down a little.
"And haven't I grown?" added Ferdy, drawing himself up for approval. "And isn't it delightful that I managed to get back on my birthday after all?"
"Yes, indeed, my darling," said Mrs. Ross; while his father gently placed his hand on the young fellow's shoulder, repeated her words – "yes, indeed! When we think of this day – how many years ago! Ten? – yes, it must be ten – you were nine then, Ferdy, how very, unutterably thankful we should be to have you as you are."
"And to judge by my looks you don't know the best of me," said Ferdy. "I can walk ever so far without knocking up. But oh! what heaps of things we have to talk about!"
"Come in to breakfast first," said his mother. "It is ten o'clock, and after travelling all night you must be a little tired."
"I am really not, only very hungry," said Ferdy, as he followed her into the dining-room, where the happy party seated themselves round the table.
Ferdy had been away, abroad, for nearly two years, both for study and for health's sake, and the result was more than satisfactory. School-life had been impossible for him, for the effect of his accident had been but very slowly outgrown. Slowly but surely, however, for now at nineteen, except for his slight lameness, he was perfectly well, and able to look forward to a busy and useful life, though the exact profession he was now to prepare himself for, was not yet quite decided upon. A busy and useful and happy life it promised to be, with abundance of interests for his leisure hours. He was no genius, but the tastes which he had had special opportunity for cultivating through his boyhood, were not likely to fail him as he grew up. And in many a dull and sunless home would they help him to bring something to cheer the dreary sameness of hard-working lives. They had done so already, more than he as yet knew.
