The Project Gutenberg eBook of Arthur's inheritance
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Title: Arthur's inheritance
Or, how he conquered
Author: Emma Leslie
Illustrator: Paul Hardy
Release date: August 18, 2024 [eBook #74276]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Blackie & Son Limited, 1901
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARTHUR'S INHERITANCE ***
Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: MR. BRISTOW STOPPED AND LOOKED
CURIOUSLY AT ARTHUR.]
Arthur's Inheritance
or
How He Conquered
BY
EMMA LESLIE
Author of "Gytha's Message," "How the Strike Began,"
"The Seed She Sowed," "Shucks," &c.
WITH THREE ILLUSTRATIONS BY PAUL HARDY
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
LONDON, GLASGOW, AND DUBLIN
1901
CONTENTS
—————
CHAP.
I. A COUNTY FAMILY
II. A START IN LIFE
III. MRS. MURRAY
IV. HOW TO MAKE ENDS MEET
V. AN INVITATION
VI. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
VII. LADY MARY
VIII. WHAT COULD SHE DO?
IX. A BLACK EYE
X. THE NEW RAILWAY
XI. WHAT DID HE MEAN?
XII. A SURPRISE FOR ARTHUR
XIII. A SHOCK FOR MR. ANDREWS
XIV. TURNING THE TABLES
ILLUSTRATIONS
—————
MR. BRISTOW STOPPED AND LOOKED CURIOUSLY AT ARTHUR—Frontis.
WENT ON INTO THE DINING-ROOM WHERE HIS SISTERS WERE SITTING AT WORK
THERE COULD BE NO DOUBT THAT THIS WAS THE MISSING LETTER
ARTHUR'S INHERITANCE
——————————
CHAPTER I
A COUNTY FAMILY
"WELL, I've done it, and if there should be a row, you girls must help
me to get out of it with the Mater."
The speaker was a tall, well-grown lad about fifteen. His two sisters
might have been a year older and a year younger, judging by their
looks. They were both sewing, but dropped their work as the lad seated
himself at the opposite side of the table.
"Oh, Arthur! What have you been doing now?" asked the elder sister,
with something like a sigh.
"What's this latest scrape, you bad boy?" said the other, shaking her
head and yet looking affectionately at her brother.
"Humph! Bad boy!" repeated Arthur. "That has to be proved, Miss Molly."
"Well, tell us what you have done, that we may judge," she said.
"I hope you have not forgotten that Mamma has already as much trouble
as she can bear," said the elder sister gravely.
"That's just it, Annie," said the lad in a changed tone. "I know that
Papa's death has changed everything for all of us, and that a lad like
me ought to be doing something to help."
"Well, of course that was settled, dear, and we are only waiting—"
"For something to turn up, like Mr. Micawber," interrupted her brother.
"No, Arthur, it isn't exactly like that," said Molly quickly, "for old
Mr. Best is looking out for you, besides some other friends."
"Yes! He has been looking out for the past six months; but as nobody
has been to him to ask if he can get them a boy, why, of course, he
hasn't heard of anything that will suit me; and so I've suited myself
without troubling him."
"Oh, Arthur! We cannot afford to offend old friends like that,"
protested his elder sister.
"Tell us what you have done, and don't beat about the bush any longer,"
said Molly impatiently.
"Well, I've got a place, a situation, an appointment, anything you like
to call it, at a shop in the town."
"At a shop!" almost gasped his elder sister, while Molly sat with
half-opened mouth, looking at Arthur in silence for a minute. At last
she managed to say, "What shop is it?"
"Oh! A fal-lal shop and a tailor's shop, where they sell everything
from a reel of cotton to a steam-engine."
"Oh! And are you going to be among your beloved steam-engines after
all?" said Molly, in a tone of relief.
"Oh, no! Reels of cotton will be more likely, I expect," said her
brother, trying to speak defiantly, but failing in the attempt.
"Now, just tell us straight out what you have done?" said Molly.
"Well, I am going as cashier to the Grand Emporium in London Road."
"Arthur, Mamma won't like that!" said the elder sister.
"I can't help it, Annie; there seems nothing else to be had. I have
waited six months for Mr. Best and the others to stir themselves, and I
can't wait any longer."
"But Mamma said a year longer at school would not hurt you," put in
Molly eagerly.
"Hurt me! Of course it wouldn't hurt me," said Arthur, "and I've
swatted as hard as any fellow since I've known about things. But the
fact is, we can't afford it. You two and Mamma are doing everything to
save money, why should I be the only one who is not to put his shoulder
to the wheel and make things move up a bit?"
"But a shop, Arthur! What will people say when they hear that one of
the Murrays has come down to a shop?" said Molly in a deprecating tone.
"Not much more than they say about us coming to live in a cottage with
one servant, and a shoe-boy to keep the garden tidy. Oh, don't you make
any mistake about it! Everybody has heard that we hardly know how to
make ends meet, and so I may as well go and earn ten shillings a week
to help as go to school and do the same sort of sums, for which Mamma
has to pay money she can ill afford. I don't believe the bill for my
last term has been paid yet," broke off Arthur, looking keenly at his
sister as he spoke.
"But it will be paid some day, and it can't make much difference to Dr.
Robinson whether you are there or not."
"Dr. Robinson makes his living by keeping school, of course, and so it
is little better than robbing him for me to keep on with my classes
there when I know that we cannot afford to pay the fees. Don't you see
that, Tabby?" he added, seeing that his little sister looked hurt.
"Has Dr. Robinson been saying anything about this to you?" said Annie
quickly.
"Humph! Dr. Robinson is a gentleman," replied Arthur. "Now let me tell
you what I have done to-day. You know, young Brading is one of the
fellows in my class, and he is not a bad sort either, though his father
does keep a shop. We two have been pretty chummy ever since he first
came, for I liked Jack, and I didn't care whether his father kept a
shop or a bank. I don't see where the difference comes in."
"Boys never do see that sort of thing," commented his sister.
"Perhaps not. Well, I had some fights with other fellows about Brading
before we settled it, for some of them were mean enough to send him to
Coventry, till I let them see a few of us wouldn't have it. So, being
chummy, Brading knew I was on the look-out for a situation, and this
morning he said to me: 'Murray, would you mind going into our shop? I
was to have taken the post myself if the fellow could have stopped a
bit longer, but he's going abroad, and must go at once. The Pater told
me about it last night, and when we'd had a talk, he told me I might
ask you to go and see him.' And so I went."
"And actually promised to go and serve reels of cotton in that shop?"
demanded his sister.
"Oh, well, I don't know about the cotton! Mr. Brading says my duties
will be in the counting-house under the accountant most of the time,
though I may occasionally have to help at the cashier's desk in the
shop. There! Now you know the best and the worst of it, and I hope
Hannah won't keep me much longer without my tea," concluded Arthur.
Molly sprang to her feet in a moment. "How stupid I am not to remember
that there is only one servant now! We told Hannah she might have a
half-holiday this afternoon, and forgot all about getting the tea. It
shall be ready soon," added Molly, as she went out of the room.
She was just stirring the kitchen fire and trying to make the kettle
boil when Arthur came in.
"I thought as much," he said, as he looked at the black grate. "Here,
let me have the wood while you set the things on the tray, and then I
will carry it into the dining-room while you cut the bread and butter.
Why shouldn't we learn to help ourselves?" he added, as he stirred the
little bit of fire into a blaze with the help of two or three sticks of
wood.
"Well, you are clever!" said Molly, when she heard the kettle singing
the next minute. "Hannah filled the scuttle with coals, and she said I
should want all of them to keep the fire going and make the kettle boil
for tea. But I forgot there was nobody out here to look after things,
and so it went quite low."
"And we have saved a scuttle of coals," remarked Arthur. "It will pay
to let Hannah have half-holidays if we save coals like that. Unless you
very much dislike getting tea ready," he added.
"But I don't, Arthur. You know I always do like doing things for
myself. I should not mind doing all the sweeping and dusting, if people
did not know; but you see, if people were to hear that we did not keep
even one servant it would be so dreadful!"
"For Mamma, you mean?"
"For all of us—you and all, Arthur. Oh, no, we could not do without a
servant! Though Hannah is very tiresome and wastes things dreadfully.
But is it quite settled that you are going to this shop? I can see
Annie is very much upset about it, and I do think we ought to study our
friends a little; don't you, dear?"
"Yes, I do, if we can manage it; but then if we can't, what then?"
"Oh, but you could go and tell this Mr. Brading that your friends did
not wish you to accept this appointment—and—and—"
"But look here, Molly. You say you must keep a servant, and that she
wastes things dreadfully. Don't you see that what I can earn will help
to pay for what Hannah wastes?"
"You ridiculous boy! As though we should let you do that!" exclaimed
Molly, as she poured the boiling water into the tea-pot.
"Boy!" repeated Arthur. "You forget that I am assistant-accountant
to the great emporium of Brading and Co. Boy, indeed! I ought to be
growing up by this time at any rate."
They were both laughing when they carried the tea into the dining-room,
but Annie was still looking very grave.
"Have you been to tell Mamma?" asked Molly.
"Not yet. She is a little put-out because tea is so late. It was very
careless of both of us."
"It was my fault," said Molly, "for I promised to do Hannah's work; and
so I will take Mamma's tea up to her, and then I can explain."
While she was speaking Molly went to the chiffonier cupboard, but could
not find what she wanted. "Didn't you order some biscuits yesterday,
Annie?" she asked, as she peered into the corners.
"Oh, never mind the biscuits! Mamma will like bread and butter to-day."
"Shall I carry the tray up for you?" said Arthur, as he opened the door
for his sister.
"No, no; Molly had better go. You might upset Mamma," interrupted Annie.
Mrs. Murray was an invalid, and had all her meals in her own
sitting-room upstairs, seldom taking any part in the family life. It
had always been so, as long as Arthur could remember. Occasionally
friends would call and spend a few hours with her, and her two
daughters of course spent a good deal of their time in her room; but
since she had been obliged to give up the attendance and company of
her own private maid, she had been fairly content with her two Persian
cats, who always had their quarters in her sitting-room, sharing their
mistress's meals for the most part. It was for these favourites that
the biscuits were wanted, and Molly knew there would be complaining
when her mother saw there was only bread and butter on the tray.
"Poor Tuffy and Bob have been wanting their tea for the last hour,"
said Mrs. Murray, merging her own complaint into that of her pets, as
they came purring round at the sight of Molly and the tray.
"It is all my fault, Mamma, that tea is so late; I promised to see to
Hannah's work, and forgot all about it."
"I don't blame you, Molly. Of course we never can do with only one
servant, and I told Annie so from the first. You have forgotten the
biscuits," she added sharply, as she looked over the tray. "My poor
Tuffy, they never think of you!" added the lady.
"There are no biscuits in the house, Mamma, and—and so we thought the
cats might have a piece of bread and butter for once."
"Cats!" exclaimed the lady. "If they were mere cats, and not my pets
and companions, they might be expected to eat common food, but you know
they are dainty and delicate as I am myself, and they cannot eat what
mere cats could."
"But, Mamma, Annie said last week that we were using too many biscuits
in the house now."
For answer Mrs. Murray burst into tears. "Take the tray away," she
said; "I cannot eat and see my pets starve."
For once the girl's bright face clouded, and she felt as though she
would like to kick the pampered beasts. She ventured to break off a
piece of the thin bread and butter, and try to coax one of the cats to
eat it while her mother was sobbing. But the cat sniffed disdainfully
at it, and then uttered a plaintive mew to attract her mistress's
attention.
"What are you doing to the poor thing?" said Mrs. Murray, removing the
pocket-handkerchief from her face. "Take the tray away," she repeated,
"I do not want anything now."
"Oh, Mamma, do try to eat something!" said Molly pleadingly. "Annie
will be so upset if I take the tray down,—and—and there are other
things to worry about besides cats," blurted out Molly.
"Then you and Annie must manage it between you, for I cannot bear any
more trouble;" and the invalid turned her head on her silk pillow and
subsided into gentle sobs.
Molly did not move the tray, but sat down beside her mother, and tried
to soothe her much as she would a sick child. But she could not coax
her to have any tea, and when she heard Arthur's footstep approaching,
she took up the tray and hurried out to meet him, fur fear he should
say anything that would disturb her mother still more.
"I was just coming to see what was the matter," he said, taking the
tray from her hands. "What is it?" he asked, seeing the tea and bread
and butter had scarcely been touched.
"Oh, nothing much! Only Mamma is not quite well, and I am afraid we
shall not be able to tell her your news to-night."
Molly took care not to give her brother the chance of going into the
room to say a word about it, but she and Annie tried all their powers
of persuasion to induce him to tell Mr. Brading that he could not
accept the situation, as his friends did not think it good enough for
the son of a county gentleman.
Arthur listened to all the arguments they brought forward with as
much patience as he could muster. But at last he said, "Look here,
if you were a boy like me, and not a couple of girls brought up in
cotton-wool, for fear you should hear a word of the truth about things,
you would know that the Murrays, if they are a county family, have been
going downhill for years and years. People say that Papa ought to have
given up the old house long before he did,—and—and—"
But there Arthur stopped, for he had resolved that neither mother nor
sisters should hear the hard words that had been said, if he could
prevent it, and so he sat silent for a minute, while Molly shed a few
quiet tears over what she deemed her brother's obstinacy and general
wrongheadedness.
"I don't think Dr. Robinson ought to take such boys as this young
Brading," she said at last.
"Brading is every bit as good as we are," cried Arthur indignantly.
"I suppose you will allow us to have our own opinion about that," said
his elder sister rather stiffly.
She and Molly began clearing the tea-things away, and when that was
done, Annie went to sit with her mother, and tried to coax her into a
more cheerful mood.
Molly stayed in the kitchen to wash up the tea-things, and Arthur took
up a book, but by the time Molly came back he had forgotten his anger,
and was ready to listen to the complaints against Tuffy and Bob.
"Mamma doesn't like to hear them called cats, she is so fond of them,
and won't let them eat common food; but the fact is, Arthur, we can't
afford to pay tenpence a pound for biscuits for them."
"But you can buy cheaper ones," said her brother quickly, "I have seen
them in the shop windows for half that price. If that is what has upset
Mamma, I'll soon put things straight, and then when you have settled
things to the satisfaction of the tabbies, just say a word for me, like
a dear girl."
He did not wait to hear what his sister answered, but dashed out to buy
some cheap biscuits out of his own pocket-money, and then Molly was
sent upstairs with them on a delicate china plate.
But on the stairs she met her sister coming down. "Mamma thinks she
could eat a filleted sole," she said with something like a weary sigh.
Molly turned back with her to the dining-room, still carrying Arthur's
peace-offering.
"Won't the pampered beasts eat them?" he asked, when he saw that the
biscuits had not been touched.
"I have not tried them yet," said Molly, "but if Mamma has made up her
mind that they are to have filleted sole, she is not likely to let them
eat cheap biscuits."
Annie's eyes were full of unshed tears as she asked Arthur if he would
go to the fishmonger's for her.
"But—but—you cannot afford to buy sole at two shillings a pound to feed
cats, even if they are Persians and Mamma's."
"Now, Arthur, you don't know anything about housekeeping, and so you
must leave me to manage all that. Mamma is very poorly this evening,
and has had no tea, but she thinks she could eat a little bit of sole
if I cooked it for her myself, so do go to the fishmonger's for me and
try to get what she fancies."
Molly went with him to the street door. "If it was for Mamma herself, I
should not mind so much," she whispered, "but I shall do those cats a
mischief one of these days, I am afraid."
"Make haste, Arthur," said his elder sister at the same moment.
And Arthur ran down the little garden path, his mind filled with a new
thought that he almost hated himself for harbouring, and yet it would
press itself upon his attention, try as he would to put it away from
him.
CHAPTER II
A START IN LIFE
"I SAY, young man, what do you mean by this; I coming along the street
at the pace of a steam-engine? I've a good mind to call the police."
Arthur had collided with an elderly gentleman at the corner of the
street, nearly knocking him down, and had paused in his onward career
to make sure that he had not hurt him.
"I am very sorry, sir," he said, as soon as he could get his breath,
for the run and the sudden collision had made him stagger as well as
his victim. "I hope you are not hurt?" he added.
"I—I think I know your voice," said the gentleman, placing his hand on
Arthur's shoulder and peering into his face. "Isn't your name Murray?"
he asked the next moment.
"Oh, yes! And you are Mr. Andrews, who always managed Papa's affairs?"
"Well, as much as he would let me," said the lawyer.
"Perhaps you would not mind helping me to decide about something,"
said the lad eagerly. "Girls don't know much about such things, and my
Mother doesn't care about anything but Persian cats."
There was a bitterness in his tone as he said this that did not escape
the notice of the lawyer, but he made no comment beyond saying: "Tell
me facts, the facts of the case you want me to advise upon."
"Well, sir, you know I must get a situation of some sort; our money has
nearly all gone, and I want to help my sisters, of course."
"The money went years ago," muttered the old gentleman under his
breath, but not so low that Arthur did not catch the words, and
he paused a minute to think of their import before he added: "Mr.
Brading at the 'Great Emporium' has offered me a situation in his
counting-house."
"Has he though?" said the lawyer quickly. "Well, it is uncommonly good
of Brading, and you are a lucky fellow to get such chance to make a
beginning. How came Brading to hear about you?"
"Oh! Jack Brading is in my class at school, and we have always been
good chums, though some of the fellows did not like it, because his
father kept a shop. Thank you, sir! You were a friend of my father's, I
know, and so it will be all right. Good-night!"
And before Mr. Andrews was aware of it, Arthur was off down the street
at the same railroad pace as before.
"That was a wonderful piece of good fortune, to meet Andrews just at
this time. Now I can tell Brading that my mother is not so well, but
that my father's man of business thinks I ought to accept his offer."
Arthur whispered this to himself as he stopped at the fishmonger's door
and looked in at the well-stocked shop.
Arthur had to pause before going in, for he was not in the habit of
fetching errands, and he had almost forgotten what he wanted, until he
heard a customer inside ask the price of sole, and then he remembered
what he had been sent for, and was careful to note the price given to
the other customer.
"Eighteen pence a pound," said the fishmonger, picking up a fish and
holding it up. "That will weigh about a pound," he said, putting it
into the scale.
"It is dreadfully dear," said the customer dubiously.
"Not for sole, ma'am, at this time of year. Can I serve you, sir?"
added the man, turning to Arthur.
"Yes, I want a small sole filleted, enough for a sick lady's supper—for
Mrs. Murray," added Arthur.
The man looked at him for a minute, as if mutely asking a question, and
then served the lady. When she had gone out of the shop, he leaned over
the counter and said in a quiet tone: "You don't want it added to the
account, I hope, sir?"
"Oh, no, I have the money!" replied Arthur. But his face flushed
crimson with pain and shame as he said, "It must be a small sole,
please."
The man weighed several before he could get one to suit Arthur, for the
boy had suddenly decided that he must not spend more than a shilling
for the fish, and at last he got what he wanted and started homeward.
This time he went through the by-streets as the nearest way back, and
came upon another fish shop, where they sold fish ready fried.
"Now this will be just the thing for those beastly cats," said Arthur
to himself, as a man placed a dish of smoking-hot slices of fish in the
window.
In a moment, he dashed in and put twopence on the counter. "Give me two
pennyworth quick," he said.
The man soon handed Arthur a greasy packet of fish wrapped in a piece
of newspaper, and the lad dashed off again.
"What a long time you have been!" said Molly, who opened the door to
him.
And as he entered, a faint mew came from the stairs.
"Poor pussy!" said Arthur, and he held the greasy parcel towards her.
The Persian caught a whiff of the tasty contents, and uttered a louder
mew, while Arthur ran off to the kitchen followed by Tuffy.
The next minute, Mrs. Murray appeared at the top of the stairs, and
Molly ran up to see what had brought her mother out of her room.
"My poor pets are so hungry!" said the lady plaintively.
"Yes, Mamma, and so are you, I am sure. Arthur has brought the fish,
and Annie has gone to cook it before Hannah comes in." And as she
spoke, an appetizing smell of fried fish came up the stairs, and the
other cat pricked up her ears and sniffed, and finally went out of the
room after her rival, closely followed by Molly, whose keener nose
had detected a difference in the smell that had drawn Bob downstairs.
She closed her mother's door, and opened the staircase window as she
passed, and then ran down to the kitchen, where she fully expected to
hear that Arthur was perpetrating some mischief.
There were the cats, each with a plate of nicely-browned fish, which
they were growling over with delight, while Arthur was laughing and
Annie looking on, half-amused, half-alarmed, with the raw fish only
just put into the frying-pan.
"What is it? What have you done?" asked Molly.
"Bought the beasts two pennyworth of fried fish instead of giving
eighteen pence a pound for soles for them. And just see how they enjoy
it too!" added Arthur, as one of the cats looked up at him, licking her
lips, as if asking for more.
"Well, if it doesn't make them ill, I shall be very glad, for it was
such a small fish you brought, Mamma would hardly have had a bit," said
Annie.
"Look here, we must do something like this to lessen our expenses,"
said Arthur. "How much do we owe the fishmonger?" he suddenly asked.
"Oh, a few pounds! I shall have to let Mr. Andrews know that all our
money has gone again."
"But he said you would have to make it last until the end of the
quarter," exclaimed Molly. "But I can't—it's impossible. I have not
been able to pay the bills as it is," retorted Annie. "Mamma must have
what she fancies; it is so little she can eat."
"Well, we must feed the cats down here, and then that will cost less,
though I don't believe I should ever have thought of it, if Arthur had
not bought this fish. Why, they have had a better supper for twopence
than if Arthur had spent another shilling for filleted soles, and I am
sure they have enjoyed it quite as much."
"Of course they have, and the fish is good, or people would not eat it,
even if they are poor," said Arthur.
His elder sister shook her head. She was not so sure about that.
In the narrow and exclusive circle in which she had been brought up,
she knew nothing of the trials and struggles of the poor, and so
Arthur's daring experiment of bringing home food that only poor people
ate was somewhat of a shock to her notions of propriety, even though it
was for the cats and he had been able to save a shilling for her by the
transaction.
Of course she had heard at the time of her father's death that very
little of their property was left, but she thought that, having given
up the old home and sold most of the furniture except what had been
required to furnish her mother's room, the trouble was at an end, and
they could have all they needed for life, with one servant in the
cottage, without thought or stint.
But the bringing of this vulgar fried fish into the house seemed like
bringing an element of unrest to the two sisters.
The next morning Molly was awake very early, and she soon found that
her sister, who slept in an adjoining bed, was also wakeful.
"Did Arthur tell you that the fishmonger as good as asked him for the
money before he served him with the fish last night?" she asked.
"No, dear; but I should not wonder, for other trades-people have asked
me lately to settle their bills. I cannot understand it, for I know
Papa used to let them run for a year, or even longer."
There was silence for a minute or two, and then Molly said: "I have
been thinking it would be better to let Arthur go to Brading's; he said
last night it was downright dishonest to owe money that we cannot pay,
and yet object to him going to earn some to help us. Don't you think
we had better let him try what he can do at this shop?" said Molly
wistfully.
The fact was, Arthur had managed to get hold of his younger sister
before she went to bed, and had poured out all his trouble to her.
"I dawdled along," he said, "for nearly half-way to the fish shop
thinking about Mamma and her cats, until it seemed to me that we were
nothing to her, and that she could not judge fairly what was good for
us.
"Then I started to run, and nearly knocked somebody down, who turned
out to be Papa's man of business, Mr. Andrews. I spoke to him about
Brading's offer, and he thought I could not do better than take such a
chance."
Molly repeated Arthur's story as nearly as she could, word for word.
"Annie," she added, "I am telling you just what Arthur said, and of
course he will take the advice of a man like Andrews; but still, I know
he would be glad if you said to him, 'I am willing that you should try
what you can do for us'."
"It is Mamma who should say this," said Annie with a groan.
"But she won't, you know she won't. She will fret herself ill, and tell
us it is our duty to maintain the family honour, regardless of what our
likes and dislikes may be. The cats come first, I do believe now, and
then the family honour. Arthur says he doesn't think there is much of
it left to take care of."
"Oh, Molly, why do you let him talk to you like that?" said Annie
reproachfully. "He is only an ignorant boy, and quite ready to do or
say anything that is mischievous. You ought not to encourage him to
talk in that fashion, but tell him to remember that he is a Murray, and
therefore bound to take care of the family honour at all costs."
Molly did not answer, for her sister spoke very severely; but she
was glad to see Arthur seated at the breakfast-table when she went
downstairs, for she always waited upon her mother before she went to
her own breakfast. She was relieved to find that Annie was not looking
quite so stern as when she first got up.
Arthur nodded and winked as Molly drew up her chair to the table, and
Annie, as she handed her a cup of coffee, said in a quiet tone: "Arthur
is not going to school this morning, he is going to see Mr. Brading at
ten o'clock."
It was Annie's way of doing most things, and the others knew it. It
was not a very gracious way, perhaps, but Arthur was glad even of this
grudging consent, for Mr. Brading had insisted that he should consult
his friends before giving an answer about the proffered situation.
Arthur went off in good spirits, and Molly began to wonder what she
could do to make a little festival when he came home. At last she
thought she would ask Hannah to make an apple-pudding for dinner, for
Arthur was very fond of apple-pudding, and would be sure to appreciate
this little attention to his taste.
But when she went to the kitchen to prefer her request, she was told
that it was quite impossible for her to have what she wanted.
"I've never served apple-pudding without custard, and Miss Annie says I
must be more careful and not use so many eggs, so you certainly cannot
have any pudding to-day."
"It was for Arthur I wanted it," pleaded Molly.
But Hannah was inexorable. Annie had told her she must lessen household
expenses somehow, and the old servant had turned cross at once. She
had been with them for some years, and neither master nor mistress had
ever told her such a thing before. She resented it now as though it had
been an imputation upon her honesty, and she gave Molly such a rating,
with this for a text, that the poor girl was glad to take refuge in the
needlework that she and Annie had set themselves to do, that they might
save the cost of new table-cloths if they could.
At dinner-time she began to watch for Arthur, for she longed to hear
how he had got on. But the afternoon passed, bringing no news of their
brother, and it was not until between seven and eight o'clock that he
arrived.
"Why, where have you been, Arthur?" exclaimed Molly, jumping up to
greet him as he came in.
"Did you think I was lost, or had gone for a soldier, that I did not
come home to dinner?" asked Arthur teasingly.
"Have you had your tea as well as your dinner?" asked Molly, while his
elder sister looked her questions.
"I think it will be all right, Annie, when I get used to the work," he
said. "The chief accountant is a gentleman, and he says if I am very
careful, he thinks I shall get on very well. It will be a good thing
for your housekeeping, Annie, not to have me home to dinner every
day. We all dine in the house, and have tea too. Sometimes I may have
to go down and help at the shop desk, but, as a rule, I shall not
see much more of the shops than I should if I was in a bank, for the
counting-house is upstairs in another part of the house. I say, Annie,
won't it be a good thing for you that I am to have my dinner there?"
said Arthur again.
"Why?" asked his sister, in genuine astonishment.
"It must cost something to keep a big hungry boy like me in pies and
custards, to say nothing of the meat and vegetables."
"What makes you talk like this, Arthur?" exclaimed Annie scornfully.
"As if the price of a meal could matter. Of course we do not
keep company now as we did—how can we, with only Hannah to do
everything?—But I should think we could afford to have what we needed
for ourselves!"
Annie was very scornful as well as angry, and Arthur was prevented from
saying any more about his new situation to either of his sisters, for
Annie took care that he did not get a chance of talking to Molly before
supper, and when that was over, he was glad to go to bed. Although he
had not said a word about it, he felt tired and sleepy after his close
attention to his work.
Molly noticed the next morning that he still looked a little sleepy
when he got up.
"Yes, I do feel a bit tired," admitted Arthur, with a yawn, "but you
cannot wonder at that, for of course all the work is strange to me."
"But you don't mind it?" queried Molly.
"Mind it! Why, a fellow has got to conquer his distaste for close work
if ever he is to do anything in the world. Dr. Robinson has often told
me that my failing was want of application, and if ever I wanted to be
successful, I must make up my mind to stick to work, whatever it may
be, and I mean to do it too," added Arthur resolutely.
Molly looked at him admiringly. "I do hope you will succeed," she said
in a low, earnest tone.
"Well, I mean to have a good try for it, I can tell you. Andrews seemed
to think I had a very good chance at Brading's. Mind you, the work is
stiff, and Mr. Bristow, the chief accountant, is very particular."
"Of course he would have to be," interrupted Molly, "for I suppose the
figures now mean real money, and if you got any part of the sum wrong,
it would mean loss of money to Mr. Brading, or else that he would cheat
somebody. Oh, Arthur, I do see how particular you have to be! It is
quite different from what it was at school, when, if you got a sum
wrong, it only meant the loss of a mark to yourself. Now your sums mean
the loss of money to other people."
"Well done, Molly! That was just what I was thinking when I was
dressing this morning, but I don't think I could have explained it so
clearly."
"Isn't it rather nice to think it is real things you have to do with
now?" asked Molly, rather wistfully. "Think how much better it is than
our life here at home. All we have to do is to look after Mamma and the
cats, and see that nothing happens to trouble them. Yes, I wish I was a
man, to do real work in the world," added Molly with a sigh.
"If I stay talking here any longer, I shall be late for my work, and
then I shall have Bristow down upon me with a solemn warning. The
cashier's boy told me to-day that he was always down on people if they
don't keep their time, and I have to be at the office ready for work by
a quarter to nine."
CHAPTER III
MRS. MURRAY
"OH, I say, you girls have no idea what a great place ours is! I had to
go all over it this morning, and Jack came to show me the way."
This was Arthur's greeting when he walked into the dining-room after
his second day's work.
Annie looked up from her sewing to listen, while Molly said, "Tell us
all about it. I am glad it is not just an ordinary shop."
"Oh, well, everybody knows Bradings are in a big way of business,
but I never thought there were so many shops and factories. Why, the
buildings down both the side streets and along the road behind the
London Road all belong to Mr. Brading, and I have to be postman and
deliver the letters every morning. It is jolly fun, I can tell you,
with Jack to help me, and he is coming every morning for the first
week, for fear I should lose my way in some of the passages and
warehouses."
"But why can't the postman deliver the letters himself?" asked Molly,
when her brother paused.
He shook his head. "I know nothing about that. All I know is that a
private letter-bag is brought from the post office every morning, and
Mr. Bristow told me when I went in, that it would be my duty to take
charge of this and deliver the letters in the different departments. I
was just wondering how I was to know where to find the places when Jack
Brading rushed in.
"'I'm coming to help you with the letters, old fellow,' he said,
slipping off his coat and turning to do the polite to old Bristow, as
he told me afterwards, because Bristow is my chief, you see, and he
might cut up rough even with Jack if he thought we were up to larks
with the letters.
"Jack showed me how to sort them first. There was a stack, I tell you.
Every department has a bag of its own, except the accountant's and
those addressed to Mr. Brading personally. Those for our department I
hand to Mr. Bristow as soon as I have got them all together, and Mr.
Brading's, I take to his room, which is next to our offices; and then
when all the other bags are ready, I sling them over my shoulder and
start off on my round. Jack insisted upon carrying half the bags for me
this morning, and in every department, he introduced me to its chief
manager as 'Mr. Murray, our assistant-accountant.'
"There was no larking about Jack while he was doing this, I can tell
you," said Arthur impressively. "But as we got through the place well
within the time allowed, we turned into the gymnasium and let off steam
for five minutes. Mr. Brading allows this to the youngest of the crowd,
and it proves that he knows what he is about, and how he can get the
best work out of a fellow. It took us nearly an hour before we gave up
the last bag in the furniture warehouse, and as the clock was striking,
I went up to my desk and Jack ran off to school."
"How late he would be!" put in Molly.
"Yes, but Mr. Brading had arranged it all with Dr. Robinson, and so
Jack would only miss one of his classes, and there would be no time
wasted in taking excuses to the doctor. Mr. Brading believes that time
is money, even a school-boy's time."
"Hannah ought to go there and take a lesson," commented Annie.
"What time do you think we had our one-o'clock dinner to-day?" said
Molly, laughing. "It was just half-past two by the dining-room clock,
and when Annie told her of it she said, 'Time was of no consequence
here'!"
"It never was to us, according to old Hannah. A good thing for me I
don't have to come home to dinner, or I should have to live on bread
and cheese half the week, I suppose."
"No, you wouldn't," said Molly promptly. "If Hannah would not begin to
get the dinner ready in good time, I would go to the kitchen and get it
myself. I know enough about cooking now to do most things, for I like
to learn and Hannah likes to teach me. So if you wish to come home to
dinner, only say what time you want it, and I will have it on the table
all ready."
Annie laughed. "How bravely we talk!" she said. "But I should not like
to face old Hannah on such an errand."
"Well, I'd manage it somehow if Arthur had to come home to his dinner,"
protested Molly.
"Well, I am glad I'm not at Hannah's tender mercies now, as I was when
I went to school. But I should like some pudding for supper; we don't
get pudding every day, and I miss that. So you might make me a pudding
sometimes, Molly, or save me a piece from dinner to be warmed up in the
oven. It won't matter so much what time that is ready, as I have only
to go to bed afterwards."
"But it does matter," said Molly quickly. "I told Hannah to-day that
she must have the supper ready for us at nine o'clock, or else it is
late before you can get to bed, and I was reading in a book—"
But Arthur would not listen to what she had read.
And Annie laughed and said, "Listen to the old lady!"
"Never mind, Molly," said Arthur. "'Life is real, life is earnest', and
we are beginning to find it out, you and I. We can't all indulge in
Persian cats and—"
"Don't, Arthur," said his elder sister reprovingly. "You forget Mamma
is an invalid, and can only interest herself in small things. Go up and
see her now before Hannah serves her dinner." For the patient always
insisted upon a hot dinner being carried to her room at eight o'clock.
"Have you told her that I have got a post yet?" asked Arthur.
"No, I have not had an opportunity," replied Annie, with something like
a sigh, as she recalled the several efforts she had made to introduce
the matter, and how each time, as if guessing that her daughter wished
to say something that might prove unpleasant, Mrs. Murray had lifted up
her hand as to ward off a blow, and had said plaintively:
"Don't tell me anything that isn't nice to-day, for my nerves are so
shaken I could not bear it."
Annie told Arthur something of this now, by way of warning not to say
anything that would disturb the invalid just as she was about to have
her dinner, for it would inevitably spoil her appetite.
"All right!" said Arthur, as he went upstairs wondering when his mother
could be told of the great step he had taken.
"Don't make a noise, Arthur," murmured the invalid in a feeble,
complaining tone. "I am afraid I cannot bear you talking to me
to-night," she added the next minute.
So Arthur pulled Tuffy's tail, and talked to Bob, and felt quite
relieved when Hannah brought in the tray, and his daily visit was over,
for he was afraid he should forget his sister's warning and break out
with something he had seen or heard during the day. He did not want to
do this until Annie had broken the news to her gently.
"I say, Annie, tell the Mater what I have done, and get it over," he
said when he went downstairs.
"I wish I could, but you do not know how weak Mamma is getting."
Arthur went to the kitchen in search of Molly. "It is a beastly
nuisance! I can't open my mouth to the Mater for fear of making her
faint," he said hotly.
"But what are we to do? You know she never could bear anything
disagreeable. It always made her ill, and we have always had to be
careful and keep everything from her that was likely to disturb her.
Papa said one day it would kill her if she knew about his money."
"Well, it seems as though we had all been a set of ostriches in
this house, and stuck our heads in the sand instead of facing the
difficulties. Papa did it, I know. It might have been to save Mamma,
or it might have been to save himself trouble, we cannot tell; but we
youngsters are not likely to find things easy. So the sooner we make
up our minds to do the thing we ought, whether it is easy or hard, the
better it will be for everybody concerned."
Molly looked at him questioningly. "Won't you tell me what you mean,
Arthur? Is this why you were in such a hurry to get a situation?"
"Partly. Of course Papa's death compelling us to give up our old home
and all our property set me thinking, and then I heard a few things
from the fellows at school."
"What things?" demanded Molly angrily.
"Oh, nothing much!" said Arthur. And then, to turn the conversation, he
said, "Are you cooking that for me, Molly?"
"Yes, dear. We did not have any pudding for dinner to-day, so I am
making you an omelette with plenty of eggs."
"Don't let it cost much, Molly, because I know somehow that we cannot
afford it."
"But—but what is it? Why are we so poor as you make out?" asked his
sister in a perplexed tone. "We gave up everything when Papa died, and—"
"Yes, it seems we were obliged to do it. The same thing would have
happened if Papa had lived, I have heard."
"But why should it?" demanded Molly in an imperative tone. "Everybody
knows we are one of the oldest county families, and—"
"Yes, but look here, Moll; it isn't enough to be an old county family
in these days. Everybody has to put his shoulder to the wheel and do
something, and our folks have just been content to sit down and eat up
the land, instead of trying to improve it, or wait for something to
turn up, as Annie wanted me to do. That sort of thing is played out,
and it would have been a good deal better for us if somebody had told
Papa the truth about things as they told me."
"Who told you?" asked Molly.
"One of our fellows at school, and I gave him a black eye for it, for
he said my father wasn't honest, living as he did."
"Arthur, how dare anybody say such a thing of dear Papa! I am sure he
was a perfect gentleman," exclaimed Molly, flaming with wrath.
"Yes, but he hated trouble, and would never bother his head about
business, and everything was in a muddle when his father died, and the
muddle got worse, of course, as time went on and more money was wanted,
and things were never put straight."
"How did you find out all about this?" asked his sister.
"Partly from Papa himself. I asked him one day, about a year ago, if
I could not go to Eton with a fellow who was going just then, and he
said he should like to send me, but he could not afford it, we were
'as poor as church mice'. Then I had that quarrel with Strangeways,
and he told me Papa was no better than a swindler, living as we did
and never paying our debts. Of course I didn't believe that, but I
kept my eyes and ears open from that time, and I can pretty well make
out that Strangeways didn't tell much of a lie after all. Now you can
understand, Molly, why I wanted to earn some money as soon as I could.
And—and we must try to pay for everything we have, for it is dishonest,
I can see, to eat and drink things we cannot afford to pay for."
Molly heaved a sigh. "Does Annie know about this?" she asked.
"No, not a word, and I did not mean to tell you until I was obliged.
But you had better try and remember when Mamma wants sole for those
cats!"
"What are you saying about the cats, Master Arthur?" said Hannah,
bustling into the kitchen at this moment. "What mess is this, Miss
Molly?" she demanded, turning to the frying-pan on the fire.
"Oh, dear! I hope it isn't spoiled. I was making an omelette for
Arthur's supper, only I forgot all about it while I was talking to—"
"Wasting my eggs in this fashion!" snorted Hannah.
"They won't be wasted. I can eat it, Hannah," said Arthur.
"Eat it, then," she said, turning the half-cooked omelette out upon a
plate.
Arthur carried it to the dining-room, where supper was laid. "It's just
as good, Moll, as though Hannah had roasted herself over the fire at
it," said Arthur good-naturedly.
A few days later, as Arthur was returning home in the evening, he met
Hannah a short distance from their own gate. "I've come out without the
front-door key, Mr. Arthur, but you won't mind coming round the kitchen
way with me, will you, for I want to speak to you."
"All right, Hannah! fire away. Has Molly been making any more omelettes
for supper?"
"No, sir; if it was nothing worse than that it wouldn't matter, but
that old Andrews has been here to-day at his old tricks. I can't abide
that man. He never came to see your poor papa but he upset him, and now
he's begun on the young ladies. I wish I'd had my dish-cloth handy when
he went out and I'd ha' pinned it to his tail; coming here interfering!
I wish I was his wife, I'd let him know," concluded Hannah as she led
the way into the kitchen.
"But what was it he came about?" asked Arthur in a serious tone. But he
did not wait for Hannah's reply, he went on into the dining-room, where
his sisters were sitting at work as usual. Molly's face bore traces of
tears still, but Annie was looking calm and reserved.
[Illustration: WENT ON INTO THE DINING-ROOM
WHERE HIS SISTERS WERE SITTING AT WORK.]
"So Andrews has been here to-day!" he said.
"How do you know?" demanded Annie sharply, for she had made up her mind
that nothing could be done in the matter, and therefore she should not
tell her brother of the lawyer's visit.
"We may as well tell him, Annie," said Molly; "he knows more about
things than we do. Mr. Andrews says we are living beyond our income,
and we must curtail our expenses somehow," she explained.
"The butcher and the fishmonger have been bothering me to pay their
bills, and so, of course, I had to send and ask Mr. Andrews to forward
me a cheque to do it with. And instead of sending it, he came to tell
me that there was no more money to be had out of all our property,"
added Annie in a tone of intense bitterness.
"And Hannah says she has never been used to being told she must be
careful with this, that, and the other, and won't have it now, so has
given us notice," said Molly, as if this must fill up their cup of woe.
Arthur rested his chin on his hands and his elbows on the table, to
think over what his sisters had told him. "I wish I knew just how
things are," he said at last. "I wonder whether I could see Mr. Andrews
to-night if I went there?"
"But why should you go?" interrupted Annie. "It is getting late, and
you must be tired, I am sure, after all the work you have to do at
that shop. I don't see how we are to live on less money than we do!"
concluded Annie doggedly.
"Well, I'll go and see if I can have a talk with Mr. Andrews. If there
is a disagreeable thing to do the sooner it's done the better." And,
picking up his cap, Arthur went out without giving his sisters time for
further protest.
"I am very glad you have come, Mr. Murray," said the lawyer, when
Arthur was announced. "I tried to explain to your sister this afternoon
that every bit of the property has been mortgaged to its full, that
is, to its present, value. By and by it will be worth more, and may
bring in a fair rental if we can only hold on for a bit longer, and
keep the interest on the mortgages paid up. But to do this I cannot
afford to allow your sisters more than fifty pounds a year, besides the
seventy-five pounds that is secured to your mother. I tried to explain
this to them to-day, pointing out to them the advantage it would be to
all of you, in years to come. But if they cannot lessen the household
expenses, there will be nothing for it but to sell the property for
about half what it will be worth in a few years' time. I should think
it might be done. What do you think, Mr. Arthur?"
"I don't know much about housekeeping, and what it costs, but you know
I am earning a little now that would add to the income. Only I suppose
they would have to be careful and regulate their expenditure, and that
is what we have not done."
"No Murray ever did it. Your family has been an easy-going, careless
people, shunning all the responsibilities of life as far as possible,
as long as a penny could be wrung out of the land, without anything
being done to improve it. That is the secret of the whole matter,
Mr. Arthur. But as you have shown yourself a sensible lad in taking
this situation at Brading's, I am beginning to hope I may yet live to
see the property partially cleared at least, so that your mother and
sisters may be provided for in years to come."
"Thank you, Mr. Andrews. I think you may take it that my sisters will
agree with me that we must certainly live within the income you can
afford to pay us on these terms."
And Arthur went home, feeling very thankful that the matter had been
explained to him so far, and that Molly at least would be ready and
willing to fall in with the lawyer's plans.
When he reached home, however, he found that fresh trouble had arisen.
Hannah said she must have a girl to help her, or she would leave at
once.
"Then she had better go," said Arthur promptly, "and we will have a
gas-stove fixed in the kitchen, as they have at Brading's; it will save
a lot of trouble in cooking. How much do you pay Hannah?" he asked.
"Twenty pounds a year," answered Annie.
"Well, we cannot afford to part with so much as that in the future, and
so I will tell Hannah that we mean to try a younger servant. Don't you
think you could manage?"
"I am sure we could," answered Molly; "but who is to tell Hannah? She
will be so disagreeable."
"Oh, I'll manage that!" said Arthur.
And he went at once, and said they could not afford to spend as much as
they had been doing, and must have a young girl to help with the work.
He was rather relieved when she said that she would leave the next
day, though they heard later that she had previously arranged to go to
another situation the following day.
CHAPTER IV
HOW TO MAKE ENDS MEET
"THERE'S an awful lot of letters this time, Mr. Bristow," said Arthur
one morning as the chief accountant entered the office where he was
busy sorting them.
"Ah, there is a heavy post!" remarked that gentleman. "You must be
careful, Murray, that none of them go astray, for there was a fine
bother over that a few months ago. That is why we get the letter-bag
brought here. The messenger used to do it, but he got so careless at
last, and made so many blunders, that Mr. Brading said that the letters
must be placed in more responsible hands. Be careful, and take your
time over the sorting."
"There'll be a grumble then if the bags are five minutes late
downstairs."
"Let them grumble. I'll tell Mr. Brading, if there is any complaint,
that the post was unusually heavy."
And Mr. Bristow seated himself at his desk, and Arthur went on with his
letter-sorting.
Before he had finished, a messenger came in and apologized for not
having emptied the waste-paper basket that morning before the arrival
of the gentlemen. He took it to the door and shot its contents into a
sack, and Arthur soon followed him downstairs with the letter-bags.
The lad had been a month in his situation now, the trial month agreed
upon when he first went, and that afternoon, Mr. Brading called him
into his private room and asked if he thought he would like to continue
in his employment, now that he knew what the work was like.
"Yes, sir; if I give satisfaction I shall be very glad to stay," said
Arthur eagerly.
"Well, I think you fully bear out the character Dr. Robinson gave me of
you," said Mr. Brading.
Arthur opened his eyes. "I did not know—" he began.
"I see you thought my son's recommendation, and the name you bore,
would be sufficient for me. But, you see, I wanted a lad who was
not only quick and accurate at figures, but also possessed other
qualifications—who was steady and reliable, because the work required
this. Dr. Robinson told me you had greatly improved in these
particulars, as well as in your actual school-work, during the past few
months. I tell you this, Murray, that you may understand exactly how
things stand between us. Now the arrangement I am prepared to make is
that from this time I will pay you forty pounds a year, and at the end
of six months I will make it fifty, if Mr. Bristow can assure me that
you are worth it."
"Thank you, sir," answered Arthur, overjoyed at the thought of being
able to contribute a little more money to the family income. He would
take his first two sovereigns home this evening for his four weeks'
salary, for he had preferred to be paid monthly rather than receive the
ten shillings every week.
Now that he could do this, and tell Annie that he would be able to
bring forty pounds a year towards the household expenses, he hoped she
would agree to sit down with him and look the thing fairly in the face,
so as to fall in agreeably with Mr. Andrews suggestion that they should
live strictly within the income he could allow them, and yet keep up
the payment of the interest on the various mortgages with which the
estate was encumbered.
Up to the present, Annie had maintained that it was quite impossible,
considering that her mother was an invalid requiring many expensive
delicacies.
The same argument was brought forward this evening when Arthur laid the
two sovereigns before her, and asked if she did not think they could
manage on the fifty pounds a year Mr. Andrews could let them have if he
added another forty from his earnings.
"But what are you going to do for clothes, and boots, and
pocket-money?" asked Molly. "Say you can let us have thirty, and keep
ten for yourself. Don't you think you might manage with that, Annie?"
pleaded her sister.
"I don't see why Mamma should be stinted of her little comforts. I
think we ought to be willing to spend all her seventy-five pounds on
these if she wants them."
"Don't you think if the cats had their food downstairs it might be
managed?" suggested Arthur.
At this moment Mrs. Murray's bell rang violently, and Annie ran
upstairs in a fright to see what was the matter, closely followed by
Molly.
"My poor dear Tuffy, my poor dear Tuffy!" wailed Mrs. Murray. "That
wicked girl downstairs has been beating her. I could hear it up here!"
"Well, Mamma, she deserved it, I am sure; and if a cat can't be taught
how to behave herself, she will have to go."
"Go!" repeated Mrs. Murray in an excited tone. "What do you mean?"
"Well, Alice told me this morning that either she or the cats would
have to leave, and she is such a nice, handy girl that we cannot afford
to part with her."
"Now, Mamma," interrupted Arthur, "you cannot spare your pet, of
course, but she would be more healthy and not give so much trouble if
she was downstairs more. Let her come down to the kitchen to be fed,
and have a run round two or three times a day, and then she would be
glad to come back to you to be petted."
Mrs. Murray shook her head at the suggestion of this compromise at
first, but Molly insisted that the cat must be killed before long if
something was not done, and this brought her to reason; and she agreed
before they went downstairs that in future she would not feed the cats
from her plate, but let them be fed in the kitchen.
"Now we shall save a good many titbits," said Molly, "for in reckoning
for Mamma we always had to consider the cats."
This was said when they were once more seated in the dining-room,
considering the subject of ways and means for the future.
"This little maid you have got does not cost so much as Hannah?"
commented Arthur.
"We only pay her ten pounds a year, and she does not insist that she
must have this and that to cook the dinner, because she is willing to
do things as we tell her; and we don't have to hear that she has never
been used to 'mean, stingy ways.'" Molly laughed as she said this, but
Arthur could understand how many little stings poverty had brought into
the daily life of his sisters of which he knew nothing, and from which
everybody agreed to shelter his mother.
"Then if Alice is so helpful to you, we must certainly try to keep her;
and we must try to persuade Mamma that it would not hurt her if she
came downstairs a bit too, as well as the cats."
"Oh, we'll be content with the cats at first," said Molly. "I believe
I could like them a bit myself if they were more like what cats should
be."
"Very well; with a little less spent on the servant and the cats, don't
you think you could manage, Annie?" asked Arthur.
At length, after a good deal of consideration, she said: "Now I will
tell you the whole truth of the matter. I believe, if I could pay all
we owe at the shops, so that I was free to go where I liked to buy
things, and did not have to pay such high prices for everything, I
could manage to keep house on the income Mr. Andrews says he can allow
us. But, you see, when we came here we had to deal with the same people
as we did before. They expected it, because we still owed them some
money, though part of the debts were paid. Then I never quite knew
about things, because Hannah used to order what she liked in the way of
extras. But now that I can do all that myself, I shall be able to save
a good bit in the butcher's bill, and the grocer's too, and the dairy
as well, for she would have new-laid eggs for everything."
"Oh, I say! Don't give us stale eggs for breakfast," said Arthur.
"As if I should think of doing such a thing!" exclaimed his sister.
"But I have found out that shop eggs are about half the price I have
been paying for new-laid ones, and make a pudding just as light, and so
I have used them lately for cooking. Alice told me about that."
"Well done Alice! Now about these bills. If you have made up your mind
to pay ready money for things, and have no more bills, I think Mr.
Andrews would not mind giving us a chance to start fair and square for
ourselves, and we have not had that yet."
"No, we haven't," said Molly; "and we always had to go to the most
expensive shops for what we wanted, for if we ventured to go anywhere
else we were sure to have the old bill we owed sent in, and the
messenger who brought it was to wait for the money. Hannah knew how to
manage them though. She would send a message back and an order for more
things. Sometimes we did not want them, but we had to get them, to have
a little peace and not let Mamma be worried."
"Poor Annie! you have had a hard time," said Arthur. "I will certainly
go and see Mr. Andrews, and ask him to help us by paying off all these
bills somehow. Now the best way will be to get them all together,
and when I come home to-morrow I will add them up if you have got
them ready, and then I shall know just how much I shall want from Mr.
Andrews."
But when the next evening came, Annie had not got the bills ready. Some
of the trades-people said they were in no hurry for the settlement of
their account. The fact was, some of them had heard that Mr. Andrews
was helping the young people, as he and his father before him had
always helped the Murrays when things grew desperate. And so they
thought the estate could not be so utterly exhausted as people had said
it was, and they might as well keep them on their books as customers a
little longer on the old methods; and Annie had been able to get only
one or two small bills.
The three young people were puzzled to know what they had better do
under this unexpected check, until at last Arthur decided to go and see
Mr. Andrews again and ask his advice.
The lawyer was very glad to hear the errand he had come upon.
"If your father and grandfather had only made such a resolution, and
acted upon it, years ago, the name of Murray would be of better fame,
and you young people would not have such a hard task before you."
"I don't think we shall mind it much if we can once get clear of debt,"
said Arthur.
"Well, we shall see as time goes on. But if you don't feel it so hard,
how will it be with your sisters when they want a new dress or a new
bonnet? I know the way of the Murray ladies. It has been to send an
order to the most fashionable shop, without regard to the cost or where
the money was to come from to pay the bill. And I know something of the
ways of these trades-people too," said the lawyer with a chuckle. "If
they find out I am helping you, they will jump to the conclusion that
some of us have found a gold-mine in the Murray woods, and they will
smooth the way for you to get into debt. That is how things have gone
on for generations, and we have got to convince these people that they
are mistaken in their estimate of this last Murray, and his sisters
too. Now are your sisters willing to wait for a new frock or a new
bonnet until they can pay for it, and so shut off all milliners' and
dressmakers bills. This is where the shoe will pinch, Mr. Arthur. But
it is no good doing things by halves. If I am to set you on your feet
again, I must have every bill to examine myself, and a distinct promise
from Mrs. Murray that there shall be no more bills."
"I had forgotten Mamma," murmured Arthur. "You see she is so delicate
she cannot bear any worry."
"Yes, yes, I know. But she is not too delicate to order a ten-guinea
mantle, and bonnet to match that will cost half as much. You see I have
had these people to settle with, so I know all about it, and you must
not mind my speaking plainly in the matter. Don't be discouraged, my
lad; I am more hopeful of seeing the Murrays on their feet again than I
have ever been in my life, for you are the first, I think, who has ever
dared to do an unpleasant duty because it was right, and to look things
fairly in the face with a resolution to master them."
"Yes, I will if I can, for my sisters' sake,—and—and I feel sure they
will help even in the dressmakers' bills. But I should be afraid to
talk to Mamma about it just now."
"Well, watch for an opportunity and see what you can do. Tell your
sister to get the bills in as soon as she can, and go over them
carefully to make sure that she is not charged for goods she has not
had. In the meanwhile ask her to pay ready money for what she has, and
to go to what shop she likes to get her things. That will bring the
bills in," he added, laughing.
Arthur went home to discuss the matter with his sisters, and tell them
he felt sure that Mr. Andrews would see to the bills being paid, and
give them a fair chance of living within their income, provided there
were no milliners' and drapers' bills contracted after the present ones
had been paid.
"You must agree to wait for a new dress until you can pay for it,"
added Arthur.
Annie looked struck with amazement that such a proposal should be
made to her. "I never heard of such a thing! To ask a lady to pay for
everything when she buys it!"
"Now, Annie, be reasonable. The Murrays are over head and ears in debt,
I can hear all round. Don't you think it would be worth while to try
and turn over a new leaf? The running into debt has caused trouble
enough; you will be no less a lady if you avoid it and wait a bit
longer for the new dress."
"Is that what you are going to do about the tailor's bills?" asked
Annie, with something like a sneer. "You want a new suit of clothes;
aren't you going to order them?"
"No, not yet," said Arthur bravely. "I shall have to take a little more
care of my clothes in the future, so as to make them last longer; but
what I have got must do for me for the next month or two."
Annie sighed. "Oh, how hateful poverty is!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, but we can conquer it if we only put our shoulder to the wheel
resolutely. And after all, I think I would rather people said, 'How
shabby that young Murray looks!' than that they should whisper, 'Eh,
Murray looks smart, don't he? But you know his clothes aren't paid for;
the Murrays never do pay their bills until they are obliged to.'"
"Arthur!" exclaimed Molly indignantly. "Nobody ever would say such a
thing about us!"
"Oh, wouldn't they though! Don't you make any mistake, Molly. People
all live in glass houses nowadays. I have had things thrown up at me
at school, I can tell you. It has been hard for you girls, I know,
but I have had my share too, and to end all this and be able to look
people in the face, and know I don't owe anybody a penny, will be worth
wearing shabby clothes for. You must keep them as tidy as you can, of
course, because I should not like to look downright shabby at my work.
But to look smart; well, I'll wait a bit for that, until some of the
debts are paid off."
"But you can't expect Mamma to do this vulgar sort of thing," protested
Annie. "She has been used to order things just when she wanted them,
and she told me to-day I must write and order a new dressing-gown; she
is getting so tired of wearing nothing but black."
Molly opened her eyes in amazement at this announcement. "Papa has only
been dead six months!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, but Mamma would like a gray dressing-gown trimmed with black
ribbon and black lace. You see it is not as though she would go
out-of-doors in it, or that anyone would see her, so that it will not
matter in the least, and it will please her to have a little bit of
colour, you see."
"How much will it cost?" asked Arthur.
"Not more than ten pounds," answered Annie, as though such an amount as
that was not to be considered beside her mother's whim to have a new
dress.
"And if you send to order this, how is it to be paid for?" asked Arthur.
"Oh, the people won't mind waiting in the least!"
Arthur looked greatly disappointed. "I suppose the Murrays are born
swindlers," he said bitterly. And without another word, he went out of
the room, took his candle, and went up to bed.
"Oh, Annie, it was a shame of you to talk like that to poor Arthur,
when he is trying so hard to set things right. Of course he is quite
disheartened, and no wonder, poor boy!"
"But what are we to do? He must learn that we want dresses and must
have them somehow. Mamma has always been well dressed, though she sits
in her own room."
"Well, Mamma cannot have a new dress just now, and I shall tell her so
to-morrow. Of course, what Mr. Andrews and Arthur are trying to do is
worth twenty new dresses. If I am only a girl, I have sense enough to
know that, and if you won't help him, I will."
"How are you going to do it?"
"Well, I shall tell Mamma first that it is impossible for her to have
that new dress just now. And when she has got over it a bit, I shall
tell her I want to see some of her pretty dresses that are put away in
the big wardrobe, and I shall be sure to find one that can be altered
to the present fashion. Why shouldn't a dressmaker come here to do it?
It would be great fun, Annie, and I believe it would please Mamma to
superintend the alterations. Don't you think my plan would be worth a
trial now?"
"If you can get Mamma to agree to it, I dare say it would, but I cannot
face the trouble of bringing her to think so, and so I shall leave the
matter entirely to you. I haven't written to order the new dress, and I
will wait and see how you get on to-morrow, but I cannot do more than
that, and if the worry and upset should make Mamma ill, why, you must
take the consequences."
"All right! I don't think we shall want the doctor," said Molly, "I
will manage the Mater."
And the girl went off to bed full of her plan for helping her brother,
and getting a new dress out of an old one.
CHAPTER V
AN INVITATION
"A LETTER for me!" exclaimed Arthur, as he took his seat at the
breakfast-table next morning and saw the letter beside his plate.
But Molly came in the next minute, before the letter could be opened.
"Arthur, I have thought of a plan to get over the difficulty about
Mamma's new dressing-gown," she said.
"All right! Get over the difficulty if you can, and if she won't agree,
tell her what Mr. Andrews says about things if you like. But if she
won't be persuaded to help with us, why, I may as well give up trying,
and let things drift as they have done before."
"What would happen then?" asked Molly.
"Well, the last of the property would soon be eaten up, and Mamma's
little bit would be all that was left, and as that ceases with her
life, I suppose you and Annie would have to go out as governesses."
"Don't be horrid, Arthur," said Annie stiffly.
"Well, it's the truth, horrid as it may be," retorted her brother.
"Read your letter while we think over the truth," said Molly.
Arthur was not long reading his missive, and a pleasant smile crossed
his face as he laid it down beside his plate and said: "Jack Brading
wants me to go there to dinner, and spend the evening with them,
to-morrow. They dine at seven. I suppose it is all right for shirts and
tie?"
"There is a dress-shirt clean in your drawer, I know, but what about
your coat? You will have to get a new one, I am sure," said his elder
sister.
"Quite impossible!" said Arthur. "We can't afford it."
"But, Arthur, you can't go out to dinner without a coat!" said Molly.
"And you know you have grown so fast lately that it won't fit you."
"I haven't tried it yet. Go and fetch it, Molly, and if it wants
altering, I'll take it with me this morning and see whether Mr. Langley
can get anything done with it in our tailoring shop."
Molly ran up and fetched the coat, and Arthur put it on. "You never
will be able to wear that again!" exclaimed Molly in dismay.
"Not as it is. But they may be able to alter it, and I shall take it
with me when I go."
"And if it cannot be made to fit you as a gentleman's coat should fit,
you must order another to be made by to-morrow night, for it would
never do to go to these Bradings looking anything but a gentleman."
"And that all depends upon wearing a dress-coat, I suppose?" said
Arthur.
"Oh, Arthur, it is dreadful to have to talk of things like this!" said
his elder sister.
Arthur laughed and made fun of the whole thing. But when he had started
with his parcel, he too began to feel that it was no laughing matter
after all. For what would be thought of him if he presented himself
in the Brading dining-room wearing an ordinary black cloth coat. Of
course they would know that he used to wear a dress-suit among his own
set, and they might take it as a downright insult if he appeared in any
other.
So he resolved to put his pride in his pocket so far as the manager
of the tailoring department was concerned, and tell him that it was
necessary for him to wear this coat if it could possibly be made to fit
him, but that he could not afford to buy another.
He went to Mr. Langley's room, and was fortunate enough to see him as
he came in, and the difficulties about the coat were explained to him.
"I understand, Mr. Murray," he said.
"You won't want to wear a dress-suit very often now, and of course you
don't want to spend much money on what will be of little use. You leave
the coat with me," he said, when Arthur put it on that he might see how
he had outgrown it. "I shall be able to tell you by dinner-time whether
we can alter it for you. One word before you go. I wish you would hunt
through your drawer and desk upstairs, and see if that missing letter
fell in either place when you were sorting them."
"What letter?" asked Arthur.
"Oh, I forgot! It was after you had left that Mr. Brading received a
letter by the evening post from Lady Mary Murray, asking about an order
she had sent to me a week before, and adding that the receipt had not
been sent for the money she enclosed. I have never seen the letter. I
was coming up to you this morning about it."
"I have always been very careful to deliver all the letters I get,"
said Arthur.
"Oh, yes! We are all satisfied with the way we get our morning letters
now. I was only speaking of it to Mr. Brading the other day."
"Well, I will have a hunt upstairs, and see if it has fallen down
anywhere, but I am pretty sharp to see if one does fall, and I pick it
up at once."
"Well, look through your desk and drawers as soon as you can, and I
hope you will find it."
Arthur went up to sort the letters for that morning, and looked in his
desk at once, in the hope of being able to tell Mr. Langley that he had
found it, when he went down with the bag. But he was scarcely surprised
that he did not see anything of it, for if it had been handy, he would
have seen it before. And so he went his round and resolved to make a
thorough search when he got back.
"There is a letter missing," he said to Mr. Bristow, after he had
wished that gentleman "Good-morning."
"Ah! I was just going to tell you the same thing," said the accountant.
"You would have heard about it last night, if you had not been in such
a hurry to get away. Mr. Brading and I were locking up when a letter
was brought from Lady Mary Murray."
"Yes, and won't there be a fuss if we can't find that letter she sent
a week ago!" laughed Arthur. "Mr. Langley has told me all about it.
She'll turn the post office upside down."
"You know the lady, then?"
"Well, she's a sort of cousin, I suppose. Her husband was a cousin of
Papa's, only that branch of the family happen to be rich, and we are
poor. Still, Adrian—that is her only son—has always been very chummy
with me, and we have called each other cousin, and got into scrapes
together, for which I got all the blame if Lady Mary found it out."
This little gossip went on while Arthur was lifting each article out of
his desk, and shaking every folded sheet of paper in the hope of seeing
the letter fall on the table. After the desk had been thoroughly routed
out, and the things put back in their places, the table-drawer was
being treated to the same thorough scrutiny when Mr. Brading opened the
door.
"You are looking for that letter we heard of last night, I suppose?" he
said, after greeting Mr. Bristow and Arthur as usual.
"Yes, sir, I have turned out my desk, though I don't see how a letter
could get in there," said Arthur.
"What about the paper basket?" said Mr. Brading, glancing under the
table.
"Oh, that is always emptied before we come! You see it is empty now,"
said Arthur, pulling it out.
"Yes, I see; and I must write and tell Lady Mary that her letter must
have gone astray in the post office."
"Won't she make a fuss at that post office!" said Arthur, when the
door closed on Mr. Brading. "I'd give sixpence to be in the fun. I'll
look-out for Adrian, if he has not gone to Oxford yet, and get him to
tell me all about it. My lady will dance a real Irish jig round the
drawing-room when she gets Mr. Brading's letter, and then—"
"You seem to forget that we are in the midst of the fun, as you call
it, and that the lady is likely to make the fuss here," said Mr.
Bristow, not without some amusement himself, for he had heard of this
impulsive Irish lady before to-day.
"No such luck, I am afraid," said Arthur. "But I'll try and persuade my
sister to call and see her to-morrow, and then we shall hear all about
it."
"Very well, we must let that do for the present, then, and see to our
work," said Mr. Bristow.
And Arthur took the hint, and settled down to his usual employment
until dinner-time. The incident of the missing letter had almost passed
from his mind when he found himself in the tailoring department once
more and Mr. Langley asked him if he had been able to find the letter.
"Oh! I beg your pardon for not coming to tell you that I have turned
out everything I have got up there, and cannot find it. Can you do
anything with my coat?" he asked anxiously.
"Yes, the foreman thinks he can make a very good job of it. He would
like you to go to the workroom as you return from dinner, and then he
will be able to fit it on you. He thinks he can make it a very good
fit. I wish we could trace that letter, though," he added in a more
serious tone. "Lady Mary will—"
"Don't I know it!" laughed Arthur, interrupting him. "Won't she make
them sit up at the post office when she hears we haven't got her
precious letters!"
Mr. Langley looked at Arthur in dumb amazement. "This is no laughing
matter for me, Murray," he said. "You forget there was money in the
lost letter, as well as an order, and she is one of our most particular
customers."
"Oh, yes, I know her!" said Arthur lightly. Then, seeing how serious
Mr. Langley looked, he added: "Of course I am very sorry the letter
cannot be found, and I hope it will turn up in one of Lady Mary's
pockets. But I don't see why we should trouble our heads with it. The
post office must have lost it, if ever she posted it, and it wouldn't
be the first time she has left a letter in her pocket instead of
putting it into the pillar-box. Don't worry, Mr. Langley; there is no
accounting for what Lady Mary may do."
When Arthur fitted his coat on, a little later in the day, he was
greatly pleased with it. They had been able to lengthen the sleeves
and let it out at the seams, so that it fitted him as easily and
comfortably as a new coat could have done, and he went home in the
evening to tell his sisters that he had found Molly's plan of turning
old clothes into new ones had answered admirably.
Molly clapped her hands with delight at the announcement. "I am glad I
thought of it," she said, "for we shall be able to please Mamma with
a smart 'new-old' dressing-gown at the cost of a few shillings at the
most. Really, it is quite interesting to be poor, when it sets your
wits to work to make the best of things you have got, instead of buying
new ones."
But her elder sister shook her head at this heresy. "It may please you,
Molly, for the present; but wait until our clothes get very shabby and
we want a change from those we have been wearing so long," she said in
a serious tone.
"Well, it will be time enough, as you say, when we have got to do it,
so we won't begin worrying over it now. I am just taking a little extra
care of my best dresses, to make sure that they look nice as long
as possible, that I may not want new ones yet awhile. What are you
laughing at me for, Arthur?" she suddenly asked.
"I am not laughing at you, Molly, but at something that happened at the
shop."
"Oh, Arthur, don't call it a shop!" interrupted his elder sister
crossly. "Say office if you like, we shall know what you mean. I expect
Aunt Mary will go on when she hears what you have done."
"It is about Lady Mary I was laughing," said Arthur.
He never would call her Aunt Mary, for the two seemed to take a delight
in annoying each other when they met, and Mr. Murray had never tried to
smooth matters between them. She, too, was quite as prejudiced against
him, because he was generally the ringleader in the mischief her son
had often got into when they were both younger. In her anger over
some escapade that had caused her annoyance, she had told Arthur she
would never own him as a relative again, and he had retorted that he
would never call her aunt any more; and both had kept their word, and
harboured a dislike for each other ever since.
So Arthur recounted with great glee that a letter sent by Lady Mary,
with some money in it, had been lost in the post, and then he asked
Molly to imagine what the scene would be like when she went to the
local post office and demanded her money back.
Molly laughed and mimicked the lady, and she and Arthur were trying to
outdo each other in imitating her mannerisms when Annie suddenly said:
"You stupid things, cannot you see that this may be very serious for
Arthur? He has to open the letter-bag at Brading's, and she might—they
might—there is no telling what people might say."
"Pigs might fly," suggested the irreverent Molly.
"Aunt Mary might say spiteful things about you, Arthur, if she heard
that you had the handling of her letters."
"Ah, she might! But how is she to hear? I have not seen Adrian for a
long time. I expect he has gone to Oxford long ago."
"I have not seen him, or Aunt Mary either, for some time," said Annie.
"Perhaps she has heard that you have gone to that shop and is quite
offended about it," suggested Annie.
"Let her be offended then," said Arthur.
"Well, I am not so fond of flying in people's faces as you are,"
retorted Annie.
"All right! Go and see Lady Mary to-morrow, and tell her we are all
greatly concerned that she has not been to see us lately, and then
perhaps she will tell you what she is going to do to those careless
post office people for losing her letter with money in it."
There was another explosion of laughter over this, but Annie shook her
head at the offered suggestion.
"I don't want to have to tell her what you have done, Arthur," she
said; "I would rather she heard it from other people first, and had got
over it a bit before I saw her."
"What nonsense, Annie; as if Lady Mary cares two straws what happened
to me! We renounced all relationship to each other long ago, and as
long as Adrian doesn't come here too often she won't trouble herself
about where I go, or what I do; never fear."
"Well, I don't want to go to see her just now. And I do wish you had
been more careful of her letter, if it is you who have lost it."
"You need not be so cross, Annie," said Molly. "I am sure Arthur would
not have lost the letter if he could have helped it."
"And it has to be proved first that the letter ever passed through my
hands," said Arthur in a more serious tone.
"Don't let it trouble you, Arthur," said Molly soothingly.
"It isn't likely I shall," replied Arthur scornfully. "Nobody but Annie
would think of blaming me for such a thing."
And Arthur went up to his mother's room whistling a lively air and
full of pleasant anticipations of seeing some of his old friends and
school-fellows the next evening, for he had heard incidentally that
several other lads besides himself were invited to spend the evening at
Mr. Brading's house.
CHAPTER VI
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
ARTHUR was received by his friend and Mrs. Brading most kindly and
courteously, without any tinge of either patronage or condescension,
which some words of his elder sister had almost led him to expect.
He found that Mr. Brading, if he was not to be reckoned among the
county families, was a gentleman in his own home as well as at
business, and Mrs. Brading was all that a lady should be in the
reception of her guests and the ordering of her household. He found
his friend's two sisters were much like his own: well-mannered,
quietly-dressed girls, who received him as their brother's friend in a
perfectly natural manner, so that he speedily felt at ease and at home
among them.
They were all assembled in the drawing-room, waiting for the
dinner-gong to sound, when the door opened and the servant announced
"Mr. Adrian Murray."
"I didn't know you knew my Cousin Ted," exclaimed Arthur, turning to
Jack Brading.
"It is only a short acquaintance," answered the lad; "but you see our
grounds and those of Lady Mary Murray meet at the farther end, and so,
of course, we met too."
"Hullo, Arthur!" exclaimed the new-comer at this point, "I never
expected to see you here, old fellow."
"And I certainly did not expect to see you. Why, where have you been
all this time? I made sure you had gone to Oxford after all."
"No, I have not gone yet. I'll tell you about it later on," he added
in a lower tone, for just then the gong sounded again, and there was a
stir of preparation to proceed to the dining-room.
The sight of the well-appointed dinner-table, with its gleaming silver
and glittering glass, lifted Arthur back to the old life once more,
and all the disappointments, struggles, and hardships of the past six
months were forgotten for the time. He talked and laughed as though he
had known the Bradings all his life, for Jack's youngest sister, who
sat beside him, reminded him of his own sister Molly, and very soon
he was telling Miss Ethel Brading all about her, and they were making
merry over some of Molly's escapades when they had been out together.
"Arthur Murray is a nice boy, Papa," said the young lady when dinner
was over. "I only hope he can dance, and will take the trouble to make
himself as agreeable to the rest as he has been all dinner-time. You
know, we are just going to have a few dances by and by."
"Oh, are you?" said the gentleman, pinching her cheek. "Well, I hope
you will remember that we are business people and cannot afford to be
up till daylight."
"No, Papa, we know your rule, and have arranged to break up about
Cinderella time."
Meanwhile the lads had strayed out into the garden, for it was not
quite dark, and the elders of the party wanted to indulge in a smoke.
Adrian Murray drew Arthur away from the rest that they might have a
chat together.
"Have a smoke, old fellow," he said as he drew out a case of cigarettes
and offered one to Arthur.
"No, thank you, I haven't begun it yet," said Arthur. "One of the last
talks I had with Papa was about smoking, and I promised him I would not
begin tobacco until I was twenty at least. He told me he believed it
had done him a great deal of harm. He began the habit early by way of
killing time and—"
"Yes, that's just it. What has a fellow got to do in a dull hole like
this? The Mater says seventeen is too early to begin the weed, but I
tell her she knows nothing about it." Adrian had broken in to say this
while he was getting a match to light his cigarette.
"When are you going to Oxford, old fellow?" asked Arthur. "Of course
there is no chance for me now," he added.
"Beastly nuisance, isn't it?" said Adrian, puffing away at his
cigarette, "I thought we might have gone together, and had some good
fun and seen something of life."
"But you are going, aren't you?" said Arthur.
His companion lazily blew out a few rings of smoke, and then said
slowly, "Yes, I expect I shall when the Mater will shell out enough
to do the thing properly. I'm not going to live there like a hermit,
and I've told her so. Lady Mary Murray's son is not going to play
second fiddle to anybody at Oxford, and at present we can't agree as
to what would be a fair allowance for expenses over and above actual
necessities. What should she know about it? She was brought up in her
father's tumble-down Irish castle, where they lived on potatoes and
milk half the year, and ran wild among the cotters' children, and when
they were in Dublin it wasn't much better."
"But I say, they grew a fine race of boys and girls on potatoes and
milk," said Arthur, giving the young fellow a dig in the side, as he
used to do in the old days when reminding him of his diminutive stature.
Arthur was nearly a head taller than his cousin, although he was two
years younger, while Lady Mary, his mother, was nearly six feet in
height, and as commanding in her manner as a grenadier.
"Shut up that!" said Adrian irritably. "We are getting beyond mere boys
now, and I mean to let people know it too." And he drew himself up to
the full height of all his inches.
"I say, it was a pretty good dinner they gave us to-night," he said the
next minute.
"Yes, it was quite like old times to me," answered Arthur; "and to have
you nearly opposite me again seemed to bring the old days back."
"Yes, your father knew how to keep a good table," remarked Adrian.
"I wish my mother did. She says it would be waste to have more than
a plain joint and potatoes, with only two to eat it. I don't believe
she'd have a joint if I wasn't there, and she knows I'd kick up a jolly
row if there was only potatoes. Of course she thinks I could live in
the same style if I went up to Oxford, and I don't mean to try. She's
got plenty of money now, why shouldn't she spend it? She's got a little
scheme in her head to make a good deal more of it by and by. But I tell
her she has enough for her speculations. She can afford to carry out
the plans she has set her heart upon, and send me to Oxford as well;
but if I can't go as a gentleman should, I won't go at all!"
Arthur laughed. He was used to this kind of talk from his cousin, who
was generally at war with his mother over something or other. Arthur,
of course, thought Lady Mary unreasonable in her treatment of Adrian,
and may have urged him into rebellion in the boyish days, when they
used to get into scrapes together. But the experience of the past few
months had sobered him a good deal, and now he thought that it was a
pity the mother and son could not agree better, and he said so:
"You have no father, old fellow, and naturally your mother will look to
you for comfort and—"
"Will she! Then she'll have to make me a bit comfortable first,"
fumed Adrian. "I tell you she keeps me so short of pocket-money that
sometimes I haven't sixpence to call my own, and when I kick up a row,
she tells me there will be plenty by and by, when she has been able to
carry out her plans. 'Hang your plans!' I said to her. 'I want money
now, and money I must have.' And after talking to her like this, how
much do you think she gave me? Five shillings!"
For answer Arthur burst into a roar of laughter at Adrian's tragic
manner, and his assumption of manly indignation.
"I don't see what there is to laugh at," he said in a half-offended
tone. "I only wish you were tied to my mother's apron-string as I am,
and then you'd know what it is to be short of money, and grudged every
penny you spend."
"Well, I don't get much, I can tell you," said Arthur.
He was just about to tell his cousin what employment he had undertaken
when they were interrupted by a voice calling, "Mr. Murray! Mr.
Murray!" And the younger Miss Brading came towards them.
"It might be our Molly herself," said Arthur, speaking in an undertone
as he turned to walk towards the speaker.
"Bother the girl!" muttered Adrian. "Why can't she let us have our
smoke in peace?" and he held back as Arthur went to meet the young lady.
"We are going to have a dance, Mr. Murray. Can you come and help us?"
she said.
"To be sure we can. Come along, Ted! That is my cousin's old name among
us," he explained, as he waited for Adrian to join them.
"I don't care much about dancing," said that young gentleman. "I think,
Arthur, you must do duty for me."
"Oh, that be hanged! Come and shake yourself out of the megrims; it
will do you more good than smoking and brooding here over your wrongs."
And Arthur tried to drag him to the steps leading up to the balcony,
upon which the drawing-room opened.
He allowed himself to be taken up the steps without much protest, but
when he reached a chair, he dropped into it, and declared he would not
stir another step to please anybody.
"I hate dancing," he said, "and I don't see why I should be expected to
fag myself to please a parcel of shopkeepers."
Ethel Brading had gone into the drawing-room, and Arthur hoped she had
not heard what was said, but he went up to his cousin, and, speaking
in a lower tone, he asked what he meant by accepting Mr. Brading's
hospitality, and then behaving like that. "Don't be a cad, Adrian! I
hate such meanness," protested Arthur. "What has come to you that you
cannot behave like a gentleman?"
"I behave according to the company I am in," sullenly muttered the
young fellow.
"Very well, I won't talk to a cad," said Arthur. And he turned on his
heel and went into the drawing-room.
In a few minutes he was whirling round in a waltz, and the vexation he
felt at his cousin's behaviour was well-nigh forgotten. When, in the
next dance, another was wanted to make up a set, he suddenly thought of
Adrian, and went outside to ask him to come in and join them.
But to his surprise the balcony was empty, every chair was vacant.
"Surely the fellow has not gone home so early as this!" he exclaimed,
as he looked over into the garden, trying to descry the red glow of
Adrian's cigarette in the evening dusk. But there was nothing to be
seen, and nothing to break the silence that had descended upon the
garden, and so he surmised that his cousin must have gone home.
As he was returning to the drawing-room he met Mr. Brading and Jack,
the latter having come in search of him.
"Here, we want you," he said, seizing him by the arm.
"Have you seen my cousin Adrian?" he asked. "I left him sitting here,
and we want him now to make up that set of dancers."
"Never mind, somebody else has come in, and we are waiting for you."
And Jack led him to his place, and dancing recommenced.
No one saw anything of Adrian Murray for the rest of the evening, and
Arthur scarcely thought of him again. The young people kept their word,
and made it a small and early dance, and when the clock struck twelve,
Arthur was walking briskly towards home with another school-fellow who
lived in the same neighbourhood.
Both agreed that they had had a very good time, and had enjoyed
themselves very much. To Arthur the whole thing had been as a draught
of wine, encouraging him to persevere in the task he had set himself.
He felt more hopeful that he might yet see his sisters and mother once
more able to take their proper place in the world, and live as the
Bradings lived, beyond the care and anxiety of making ends meet, which
had marred all their lives for the past few years.
He found Molly sitting up for him, and when he closed the garden gate
she heard the click of the latch, and had the street door open by the
time he reached it.
"Don't make a noise," she whispered, "for fear of waking Mamma."
"Thank you for waiting up for me, Molly. I have had such a jolly time!
The Bradings are such nice people."
"And they treated you nicely?" asked Molly.
"Bless your little woolly head, why shouldn't they treat me nicely?"
said Arthur, quite forgetting his own sensitiveness on this point
earlier in the evening.
"Well, I think it would have been awfully mean of them if they had
not done so. But still, as Annie says, I suppose you are one of their
clerks, and there was no telling what they might do."
"No," replied Arthur, "nor yet what anybody else might do. I felt quite
ashamed of Adrian to-night."
"Adrian? Aunt Mary's Adrian?" exclaimed Molly. "You don't mean to say
he was there!"
"Yes I do. He went for the sake of the good dinner, according to his
own account, and then behaved like a cad afterwards. I felt as though I
should like to give him a good thrashing again, as I did when he threw
you out of the swing. Do you remember, Molly?"
"Shall I ever forget it? And Aunt Mary when she ran out and saw him! I
don't think she has ever liked me since." And Molly laughed under her
breath at the recollection of the scene.
But the next minute Annie appeared in dressing-gown and slippers.
"You naughty children!" she said in a whisper. And then the next minute
she said anxiously: "Arthur, have you had a pleasant time?"
"Splendid!" replied Arthur warmly. "It was such a nice dinner-party—no
old fogies and frost, but just a comfortable lot of fellows and girls
who didn't mind talking. Oh, Annie, I am going to work and save until
we can have our old things round us again! It was so like the old times
at home! Yes, I think it has done me good to have a taste of the old
days again, and we had a jolly dance after the dinner. A small and
early, of course, or I should not be home now. But that, it seems, is
the rule, except at Christmas or some special time."
"I am glad it has passed off so well. I don't think I shall mind it so
much for you now, Arthur," she added. And then she turned out the gas,
gave Arthur his candle, and they all went up to bed.
"Don't let me sleep late in the morning," whispered Arthur, as he bade
his sister good-night. "I would rather be there ten minutes earlier
than five minutes late to-morrow."
"All right! I'll call you," answered Molly. "I know how you feel
about that. If I was clever like Annie, I could say it, but I am
woolly-headed, and the right words won't come when I want them."
"Molly, how can you be so unkind as to keep Arthur up talking when you
both ought to be asleep! Of course he wants to be up at the usual time
in the morning, and how can he, if you keep him here talking nonsense!"
And this time, Annie took care to see that both Molly and Arthur went
to their rooms before she returned to hers, for she felt very strongly
that Arthur must not be late at business the next morning, whatever it
might cost them to get up.
CHAPTER VII
LADY MARY
THE following morning Arthur was in Mr. Brading's room, which adjoined
the accountant's department, when one of the messengers brought a card
and handed it to Mr. Brading.
A frown contracted the gentleman's face as his eye fell upon the name
it bore. "I wish she had chosen some other time," Arthur heard him
mutter under his breath. But to the messenger who was waiting, he said:
"Show Lady Mary Murray to my room downstairs, and tell her I will be
with her immediately."
Then he concluded his business with Arthur as quickly as he could, and
went down after the messenger.
"Good-morning, my lady!" he said, as he entered the room where Lady
Mary was standing as erect as a dart. She was nearly six feet in
height, with high, bony, prominent cheek-bones and small eager dark
eyes, and she stood in the middle of the small waiting-room as Mr.
Brading entered, looking anything but pleasant or amiable.
"Pray be seated," said the gentleman, drawing forward a large
easy-chair.
But she pushed it aside with her foot. "I have no time to waste, Mr.
Brading," she said. "I have come to know what you mean by sending me
such a note as you did yesterday? I sent you a cheque for five pounds
more than a week ago in payment of my account, and have received no
receipt for the money?"
"Because the letter has never reached us, and consequently we have not
had the cheque," said Mr. Brading, looking keenly at her.
They stood facing each other for a minute in silence, and then Lady
Mary said: "Then one of your servants must have stolen the letter!"
"No, indeed, that is not possible, I think. Will, you tell me when and
where the letter was posted, and which of your servants took it to the
post."
"It was not a servant at all, but my son took it for me, as he was just
going out, early in the evening."
"Then it should have reached us the next morning, by the first post, in
fact. Now I will tell you what our arrangements with the post office
are, that you may see how impossible it is that the letter could have
reached us. The first post is always the heaviest—"
"I can't stay listening to all this rigmarole! I tell you the letter
has been lost here. My son says he put it into the letter-box, for I
asked him, and I have been there—to the post office, I mean—and they
say the letter must have been brought here, and here it must be found!"
The lady had broken in impatiently upon Mr. Brading's speech, and now
moved restlessly from one foot to the other as she demanded: "Who
receives the letters here for you? Whoever it is, he must be the thief."
"Your nephew, Mr. Arthur Murray, receives and distributes all the
morning letters," answered the gentleman calmly.
"Who? What?" almost screamed the lady. "I have no nephew nearer than
Lismore Castle, in Ireland. What impostor has dared to come to you in
my name?"
She was fairly dancing now, what Arthur would have called an "Irish
jig."
Mr. Brading could scarcely preserve his gravity as he said:
"There has been no imposture, my lady. Mr. Arthur Murray is a friend
of my son's, and a short time ago, he entered my employment as an
assistant to my accountant, and it is part—"
"Arthur Murray in your employment! No wonder I have lost my letter,
especially as it happens to have money in it! Send for the police at
once, and I will give him in charge for stealing my cheque!"
"Indeed, my lady, I cannot do that on the evidence I have at present,"
said Mr. Brading, after a pause.
He was overwhelmed with astonishment that she should make such a
charge against one of her own family. He had mentioned Arthur's name
in connection with the affair because he thought it would convince her
that the missing letter had not reached him, and that it must have
been lost or mislaid through some other individual. But to hear her
urge that the police should be called in to arrest Arthur was a shock
to him, and after a pause, he wondered whether he had done wisely in
placing Arthur in such a responsible position.
Lady Mary did not stop to consider what she said or what she did. Her
Irish blood was roused, and she kept up her jig as she went on: "That
boy would not mind what he did! I know him, if you don't, and have
suffered from him and his ways too much to put up with him quietly! Of
course he would not mind taking my money, poor as they are now! Why did
you let him come here? Why didn't you tell him to go to some other town
for a situation? Did you know they were so poor that any money would be
a temptation to that boy? And I tell you he has done pretty much as he
likes all his life!"
Mr. Brading looked at the angry lady in wondering surprise. But at
last he managed to say: "You seem to forget, my lady, that it was no
business of mine to tell him to go elsewhere in search of a situation.
I needed an assistant in the accountant's department, and Arthur Murray
was recommended to me as being clever and careful at book-keeping, and
I was willing to give him a trial."
"Although you must have known that he has been brought up in such
habits of luxury and extravagance that the Murrays, that branch of
the family at least, have not paid their debts for years! So that the
salary you would be likely to pay him would never suffice for all his
fancied wants, and he would help himself to other people's money of
course!"
"I do not think you are justified, my lady, in making such charges as
these against your nephew," said Mr. Brading. And he was about to say
more, when Lady Mary turned upon him, white with anger.
"How dare you call him my nephew!" she protested. "He is no relation of
mine. My late husband was cousin to his father, and I have good cause
to regret even this slight kinship. For nearly all the money left me by
my first husband has gone to these Murrays. And now to be robbed—!"
"I beg your pardon, Lady Mary, but I cannot allow these charges to be
made unless they can be proved."
"Prove them, then, or I will! I tell you, Mr. Brading, I am not going
to lose this cheque without making a stir about it, and discovering
the thief! If my cheque is not satisfactorily accounted for by the end
of the week, I shall put the matter into the hands of the police." And
with this threat, Lady Mary walked out of the room, leaving Mr. Brading
greatly disturbed.
Busy as he was that morning, he sat there for nearly half an
hour thinking over this incident of the lost letter in all its
possibilities. He did not like to suspect Arthur Murray of taking the
cheque. But what was he to think, especially after what Lady Mary had
said about him? Surely she must know him better than most people, and
was she likely to make such a charge against one bearing her own name,
unless she had good ground for her suspicion?
The thought of this being true was anything but welcome to Mr. Brading,
for he liked the lad independently of his being his son's friend. The
report he had received concerning him from Mr. Bristow as to the way
in which he did his work, considering his youth, had pleased him very
much, so that he had felt glad to hear that Arthur was satisfied with
his position, and willing to stay on.
"If this arrangement had not been entered into, the position would
not have been so difficult," thought Mr. Brading, as he sat there
and pondered and wondered what step he ought to take in the matter,
and considering Lady Mary's threat to call in the police. This was a
position he had not thought of, and it would involve business aspects
of the affair that might be even more unpleasant. He would far rather
take the loss upon himself than have his name brought forward in a
police court case.
He was still thinking and wondering how he should find his way out of
the tangle, when he was called upon to receive another customer, and
the affair had to be put aside. He tried not to think of it again that
day, for it had seriously hindered him already.
He stayed that evening until after Arthur had gone, on purpose to have
a few words with the chief accountant, Mr. Bristow.
"What do you think of young Murray now?" he asked rather abruptly, much
to Mr. Bristow's surprise, for he had had some talk with Mr. Brading
about Arthur's capabilities for business only a short time before, and
he wondered at being questioned about him again.
"I am worried about this missing letter," explained Mr. Brading. "Lady
Mary Murray has been to see me to-day, and she gives the lad a very
indifferent character, and thinks he may have been tempted to use her
cheque by reason of their present poverty and the habits of luxury and
self-indulgence in which he has been brought up. We know well enough
the character they bear for not paying their debts, and this in itself
is likely to undermine those principles of honesty and straightforward
dealing that every lad should be reared in. What do you think of it?"
asked Mr. Brading.
Mr. Bristow shook his head. "I never even glanced at the possibility
of young Murray stealing the letter. Why should he pitch upon this
particular one? There have been plenty of others containing money, and
I have heard of no others being missed. Have you received any other
complaint?" asked the accountant.
"No, I have not, and I hate to think the lad may be guilty of this
theft. And yet how else are we to account for the disappearance of the
letter?"
"Letters have been lost in their transit through the post before now,"
said Mr. Bristow, "and I should be more disposed to think that our
letter has gone that way than that Arthur Murray has had anything to do
with it. He and Lady Mary evidently dislike each other, from what he
said here when it was discovered that the letter was lost, and that may
have had something to do with her giving him an indifferent character
for honesty."
"Well, to tell you the truth, I am at a loss to know what to think. My
lady was very angry, for she danced."
Mr. Bristow could not help laughing a little at this point, in spite of
the seriousness of the subject under discussion.
"I beg your pardon for laughing, but she seems to have carried out
pretty accurately what young Murray said would happen when she went to
the post office to enquire for the missing letter, and wished he could
be present to witness the performance."
"I wish he had been there to hear what Lady Mary said. It would have
made my task a good deal easier, and I should have known better how to
go to work to clear up this mystery. You should have heard the rich
Irish brogue into which she lapsed as she denounced the lad!"
"That would be enough in itself to prove that she had not thought of
what she was saying, and as each seems to be prejudiced against the
other, I should be inclined to think she had let her anger and her
prejudice have their way when speaking of the matter," put in Mr.
Bristow.
"I am inclined to take the same view, and so I think perhaps, for the
present, it will be best to say very little about the affair. But in
the meanwhile I should like you to keep a sharp eye on young Murray,
and if you see anything suspicious in his conduct or manner let me know
at once. Lady Mary threatens to put the matter into the hands of the
police, but I don't think she will do that, considering that it is one
of her own name and family whose character is impugned."
Meanwhile, as Arthur walked home that evening, he almost ran against
Adrian Murray, who started when he saw Arthur, but did not hold out his
hand to respond to his greeting.
"What's the matter, old fellow?" Arthur asked in some surprise. "I
haven't got the small-pox, you need not be afraid of me."
"I don't know so much about that," replied Adrian, trying to assume an
injured air. "You're a pretty cunning fellow, and I dare say you think
you are very clever, but you are found out at last."
"Found out! What do you mean? What was there to find out?" said Arthur
in a tone of surprise.
"Well, you'll hear soon enough, I expect, for the Mater has found it
out, and—"
"But what has she found out?" asked Arthur impatiently.
"Why, she has been down to your shop. I never thought, when I met you
at Brading's the other day, that you were in the shop there, and you
took good care you never told me."
"Well, now, the fact is I did not get a chance, for you walked off home
so early. I was just beginning to tell you while we were in the garden,
but before I could get it out we were asked to go in to dance, and
there was no other opportunity to speak to you quietly."
"Well, you've lost your chance then. If you had told me I might have
been able to talk the Mater over and bring her round to let you stay
there, if it was your fancy to be a shopman and advertise the fact to
everybody. But, now—well, my Lady Mary is simply raving over it, and
she declares she will not have our family name disgraced on her own
door-step!"
Arthur laughed mockingly. "Our family name!" he repeated. "How long
have you been a Murray? Thomas Wilkins, your father, was not a Murray,
but Wilkins, a retired pork butcher or sausage-maker or pork-pie
manufacturer. You may not remember it, I dare say, but my father knew
all about it, and so do a good many other people."
"I don't care who knows it! I have a perfect right to the name of
Murray. Lady Mary took care of that for me, as she has taken care of
most things, or she wouldn't be as rich now as she is."
"Nobody disputes her riches," said Arthur, "but money is not
everything, and I should like to know how she is going to drive me out
of the town, if I don't choose to go. Fairmead suits me very well, and
I am not at all sure that it will please me to go anywhere else, and
you may tell her ladyship what I say if you like."
"Don't be a fool! Don't you know that my mother could crush you all as
easily as I could crush a moth. Ah! and she'll do it, too, if you cross
her in this. I tell you none of her family has ever been engaged in
trade—"
"Except your father, and perhaps he had done with the pies and sausages
before you were born," interrupted Arthur, still in the same mocking
tone.
"Well, if you will be a fool, and not only scorch yourself, but put the
rest of them at home in the fire, why, you must do it, I suppose. I
cannot help you any more. I cannot help myself. When the Mater has set
her heart upon a thing, you may bet she'll have it somehow, by hook or
by crook, and it's no good standing out against her."
"I see. That's where the shoe pinches, and you want to frighten me
with the same story. What is it now, old fellow?" said Arthur in a
half-pitying, half-bantering tone. "It is easy to see my lady has been
sitting upon you over something. What's the row?"
"Well, I'm going to Oxford after all, almost at the Mater's price!
I didn't mean to give in for less than another hundred a year, but
she says if I don't go, she will move to Dublin and make her home at
Lismore with the old Earl of Duncarron and Lady Bridget, and I have had
enough of that to last me a lifetime. Besides, she is kicking up no end
of a row down at your place about a letter the post office have lost;
and I hate rows, and since this began, there's no peace for anybody.
So I'm off at the end of this week, and if you know what's good for
yourself, you'll be off too, and serve reels of cotton at some other
shop than old Brading's. Shall I tell the Mater you're going?"
"Not a bit of it," answered Arthur; "it suits me to stay at Brading's,
and there I shall stop whether the dragon likes it or not, and you may
tell her so if you like."
And Arthur walked away whistling. But when he reached the corner of the
street, he dug his hands deep into his pockets, and forgot his whistle
as he pondered over Adrian's words, wondering what they could mean, and
whether there was any truth in the assertion that Lady Mary had him and
his in her power, and could drive them out of Fairmead if he did not go
willingly.
"Oh, dear! Those dreadful debts of the Pater's! It is enough to make
a fellow say he would rather live on dry bread than go in debt for
butter. I am sure Papa would never have brought all the trouble upon us
if he had thought about it. Now I wonder what Aunt Mary could do, or
whether the dragon is trying to bluff me as she has bluffed old Ted!
How she hates his names of Ted and Tom! I do think she has been worse
than ever over it the last year or two."
Arthur fell into a brown study over the question, and by the time he
had reached home had worked himself into as great a state of perplexity
as troubled Brading, although Arthur knew nothing of this beyond what
he had heard that evening.
CHAPTER VIII
WHAT COULD SHE DO?
ARTHUR was afraid lest his sisters should see that something was
troubling him, and took care to greet Molly with a smile and a joke.
But he soon found that his younger sister was too much interested in
what she was doing to pay much attention to him.
"What is that thing?" he asked, after watching her snip, snip, snip
with the scissors as if her life depended upon the completion of her
task.
Molly held up her work before him. "This thing is an old dressing-gown
of Mamma's that we are going to make into a new one, and save the ten
pounds Mamma wanted to spend in buying another. At first Mamma and
Annie both said it would never be worth the trouble of turning, but
when I unpicked a little bit, and they saw that the French merino
looked as good as new on the side next to the lining, where of course
it has been kept quite clean, they began to think something might be
done with it if I would do all the unpicking."
"Not very interesting work, is it?" asked Arthur.
"It's a bit monotonous, perhaps, but I am impatient to see how it is
going to look made-up on a new lining. I have suggested to Annie that
we line it with a nice, soft, gray flannelette. It will be soft and
cosy for Mamma, and last her all the winter, and won't cost half so
much as ever such a cheap silk lining."
"Ah!" sighed Arthur. "That is of great importance to us now."
"Of course it is! But, after all, contriving to make ends meet is not
so bad—it makes life interesting and gives us something to think about.
I don't know what we should have done if we had not always been busy
since we have been here, but as it is we have little time to spare for
company."
"Poor Molly, you don't have many callers here now?"
"No, we don't," frankly avowed his sister. "And I have been wondering
whether Aunt Mary has found out by any chance that you and I called her
'the dragon' sometimes. Did you know old Hannah had gone to live with
her as cook?" she asked suddenly.
"I don't believe it," said Arthur. "Hannah always said she wouldn't go
there for a pension."
"She hadn't the chance then, but the grocer told Alice this morning
that our old servant had gone to live with Lady Mary because—"
"But she'd never tell 'the dragon' what we said about her?" interrupted
Arthur.
"There's no telling what she might do. Hannah liked to have a gossip,
and so does Aunt Mary."
"Well, if she has told her, it will be another mark down to my score.
What do you call the colour of that thing you are unpicking?" he asked,
by way of turning the conversation.
"This dressing-gown is gray. It was trimmed with blue silk and blue
ribbons, but of course we shall do it with black now."
"All right! Make it look smart, so that Mamma will be pleased with it.
I am going for a stroll now, and if I meet Mr. Andrews, I can tell him
we are all trying to live within our income."
In point of fact, Arthur was going out in the hope that he might meet
the lawyer. He did not like to go to his house again so soon, it would
look as though he must run to him with every trifling tale. But he
wanted to know whether there was any foundation for Adrian's story,
that his mother could compel them to do her will or leave the town, and
he felt it would lift the burden somewhat if he could share it with Mr.
Andrews.
He knew the old man often went for a walk in the evening out beyond the
town, and so he walked in the same direction, and to his satisfaction,
soon met the lawyer returning from his evening stroll.
"Good evening!" said Mr. Andrews. "I was just thinking about you. How
are you getting on at Brading's?"
"Very well indeed, I think. Mr. Brading has agreed to give me forty
pounds a year instead of twenty-five!"
"Has he, though? Well, I have always heard that he was a fair-dealing
sort of man. And how do you like the work itself?"
"Oh, I am sure to like that, because I am fond of figures and
book-keeping and that sort of thing!"
"Then you've no wish to leave, although it is a shop," said Mr.
Andrews. "You see, Lady Mary Murray came to me this afternoon and
asked if I could not get you something better to do out of the town.
In London she seemed to think you would have a much better chance of
getting on. What do you say about it?"
"I am not going away to please Lady Mary. Why should I? I am very
comfortable at Brading's, and I can help them at home with what I earn.
And another thing, I want to stay at home with Molly and Annie. Don't
you think I ought to stay here?"
"Certainly I do. It is the only way, so far as I can see, of being able
to make sure of a little of the old patrimony being saved for them and
you in the future."
"We are all determined to try for that," said Arthur. "My sister is
busy turning an old dress into a new one for Mamma. I don't think she
ever thought of doing such a thing before."
"No, indeed; but it is never too late to mend, tell the ladies, and
if they save a pound, they gain a pound, so that if you all set your
shoulders to the wheel in saving and earning what you can, why, I shall
hope to pull some of the chestnuts out of the fire for you after all."
"You say Lady Mary came to advise that I should go to London. Has she
the power to compel me to go away from this town?"
"Bless the lad, what do you mean by such a question? You haven't been
robbing her, I suppose?"
Arthur laughed at the question. "Oh, no!" he said, "but I was never
a favourite of my lady's. And I met Adrian as I was coming home this
evening, and he said his mother had set her heart upon my going away,
and she had the power to crush me and mine if I did not do as she bade
me!"
"Tut, tut!" said the old man. "Mr. Adrian has been dreaming."
"Then there is really nothing she could do to interfere with Mamma and
the girls if I choose to stay where I am?" said Arthur.
But instead of a prompt amused "Nothing, my lad," which was what Arthur
expected to hear, the lawyer was silent for a full minute, and then
uttered a prolonged "A—ah!" Then he added quickly, "But she'd never do
it, even if the law would allow it."
"Then it is true," said Arthur sadly.
"What? That she can drive you away from the neighbourhood?" asked the
old lawyer. "I can say 'No' to that, but what else she can do, I must
have time to consider. I am very glad I met you, and that you have been
so frank with me over the matter. Now, is there anything else to tell
me? If not, I will be getting home, for my housekeeper doesn't like me
to keep supper waiting."
"No, thank you!" said Arthur.
And yet if it had not been for the mention of the housekeeper and
supper, he would probably have told his friend of the missing letter,
and how it had probably added to Lady Mary's vexation, but as it was he
did not care to hinder him any longer. Mr. Andrews was a bachelor, who
was practically ruled by his housekeeper. He had heard his father laugh
many times about this, and how the lawyer dared not keep a meal waiting
beyond the time arranged for it to be ready. So he bade his friend
good-night and walked on, lest Mr. Andrews should guess he had come out
purposely to meet him if he turned back at once.
"I wish I knew what it was, and how it is she can have got this power
to annoy us! It's through those horrible debts, I suppose. I wish I had
told Andrews I would give up Brading's if he thought it would help the
Mater and Molly. I should hate going away from them, of course, but
still I'd do it rather than have 'the dragon' worrying them. I wonder
what it can be!" he went on.
Lost in this puzzle, he went much farther than he intended out of
the town, and was just turning to walk back again when the sound of
voices attracted his attention. A few yards farther back, he saw two
rough-looking men trying to drag someone up from the ground. He was a
much smaller man than either of the roughs, and they did not seem to be
handling him very gently.
"What is the matter with him?" said Arthur, as the young fellow fell
back on the path.
"That ain't no business of yourn, is it?" demanded one of the fellows.
"He's drunk, if you must know, and we're taking of him home."
While the fellow had been speaking, Arthur had stooped to look more
closely at the prostrate figure. "Adrian!" he exclaimed the next minute.
"There, get out of this. He ain't none of your belongings," said one of
the roughs. "The gent has put hisself in our care, and we ain't going
to have him interfered with."
Arthur looked at the follow and his companion, and then at the quiet
road, and finally came to the conclusion that discretion was the better
form of valour in the present instance. "He's my cousin, and I will go
with you to his home," he said quietly.
"I'm blowed if you will," replied the fellow.
"Very well then, I'll stay here until a policeman comes along," said
Arthur.
Without any more parley, one of the men struck him a violent blow
in the eye that knocked him backwards. Fortunately, he fell on the
pavement, and his head came in contact with Adrian's chest, which
roused him from his stupor for a minute, and he called out, "Thieves!
Robbers! Police! Police!"
Two gentleman passing the end of a side road a few yards on, ran up to
see what was the matter.
But by the time they had reached the prostrate Adrian, the men had made
off, and Arthur was slowly pulling himself together and wiping the
blood from his face which was streaming from his nose.
"This fellow has stolen my watch," said Adrian, still speaking very
thickly, and struggling with Arthur as he spoke. It was a dark part
of the road, and one gentleman seized Arthur and shook him, while the
other tried to raise Adrian and set him on his feet.
But he was still too stupid to understand who had first come to his
rescue, and kept on muttering, "He's stolen my watch, he's stolen my
watch."
"The fellow who has robbed him I suppose has run away," said Arthur,
who still felt dazed and sick from the blow he had received.
"Do you know anything of this gentleman?" asked one sharply.
"Yes, he is my cousin. The son of Lady Mary Murray. Rouse up, Ted, and
try to pull yourself together. Where have you been since I left you an
hour or two ago?"
The rescuers were plainly puzzled to know what to make of the affair.
Adrian had sunk back on the pavement and seemed disposed to sleep there
for the night.
"If I could get a cab, I would take him home at once," said Arthur,
looking up and down the road in the hope of finding a returning vehicle
on its way back to the town.
"We are going on to the town; shall we send one for you?" asked one
gentleman, assured now that Arthur's story was the true one, and
this was confirmed when he replied, "Yes, and if you should meet a
policeman, ask him to come on here to us at once."
One gentleman, however, kindly volunteered to stay with the lads until
either cab or policeman arrived, and Arthur was very glad to accept the
offer, for he was not at all sure that the fellows who had attacked him
were not lurking somewhere in the neighbourhood, ready to renew their
attempt to rifle Adrian's pockets. For they could see now that one had
been turned inside out, and although Arthur knew that his cousin would
not be likely to have much money about him, they would not think that a
young fellow who carried a valuable gold watch was likely to be without
a shilling in his pocket.
They did not have to wait long, however, before a cab arrived. Then
between them they lifted Adrian into it, and Arthur took his place
beside him, and told the cabman where to drive them. It was a long
distance from where they had been picked up, quite at the other end of
the town, and Arthur had no money to pay the fare, but this would not
matter, he thought. Lady Mary would be only too glad to see Adrian home
again, though what she might think of the condition he was in, he did
not venture to consider. Indeed he could not think; his head ached, and
he was glad to sit back in one corner while Adrian lay on the opposite
seat and snored.
When at last they reached Lady Mary's home, Hannah came bustling out to
answer the loud ring at the bell.
"Two gents inside!" called the cabman, when Hannah appeared.
"Look here, Hannah, Adrian has had a drop too much somewhere," said
Arthur, when she came to the side of the cab to see who her visitors
might be.
"Bless me, Mr. Arthur, you look as though you had both been having too
much!" said Hannah tartly.
"Pooh, I'm all right! Just pay the cabman, will you, and get him to
help Ted indoors, for I am not sure that I might not fall down if I
tried it. Two roughs have robbed him, I am afraid, but it might have
been worse if I had not come across him."
"Worse!" uttered Hannah. "What do you call worse? I wonder what my lady
will say when she hears about it!"
"Never mind that to-night, help him in," said Arthur. And then he tried
to rouse Adrian, while Hannah went back to fetch the money to pay for
the cab. Lady Mary was not at home, but Hannah expected her every
minute, and hoped she would arrive before the cab left, and to give her
time, she did not hurry, hoping my lady would pay the fare. But when
she came back, the cab stood there and the man beside it, while Arthur
was trying to rouse Adrian from his sleep.
"I am not going to pay you to take the other back to the town," said
Hannah, when the cabman said his fare was five shillings.
"All right! I dare say I can walk." And Arthur got out of the cab, and
the man jumped on the box and drove off; when he had helped Hannah to
half-drag, half-carry Adrian into the house.
"It will be better for you to walk, Mr. Arthur," Hannah called after
him, "and then, if you meet my lady coming along the road, you can tell
her all about it."
"If I see her," answered Arthur, but he made up his mind that he would
avoid doing anything of the kind, and to make sure of this, he crossed
the road.
Whether he would have been able to walk all the way home is doubtful,
but fortunately he was not put to the test, for at the corner of the
first road the cabman had drawn up his vehicle, and when he saw Arthur
coming, he called out: "Hurry up, sir! I am waiting for you. You ain't
fit to walk, and you may just as well go in the keb as for me to take
it back empty. I've 'driv' your father many a time, sir; money weren't
no account to the Murrays in them days, but I hear as how things have
altered lately, and so, if you like to consider that this here journey
was paid for in them old days, why, so be it."
"Thank you!" said Arthur, with some emotion, for he really was thankful
for the man's thoughtful kindness, as he was still feeling weak and
unnerved, and he knew his sisters would be alarmed at his long absence
from home.
So he got into the cab and curled himself in the corner without a
thought of Lady Mary, or what she would think of the affair. He was not
long in reaching home, and of course, before he could get to the street
door, after wishing the friendly cabman good-night, it was opened by
Annie, while Molly's anxious face appeared beside her.
"Oh, Arthur, where have you been?" exclaimed both in a breath.
And then, when they saw his face, Annie screamed out, "What is it? What
is the matter?"
"Nothing, only I have had a little adventure. Don't make a noise or you
will frighten the Mater. I should like some warm water to bathe my face
and wash the blood off. There, it is nothing, only my nose bled as I
fell over Adrian."
"Oh, Arthur, have you been with cousin Adrian? I saw him the other day,
and he looked as though he had been drinking too much."
"Never mind, he is safe at home now, I have just taken him, and Hannah
is there, as the grocer said. Now let that satisfy you for the present,
for when I have washed my face, I should like to go to bed."
But Molly was not to be put off with this meagre account of the
adventure. She followed him upstairs with a jug of hot water, and
would not leave him until he had given her a full account of the whole
matter, and then he asked her to go and tell Mamma about it, and ask
her to excuse him from going to her room that night.
"I shall be all right in the morning," he said, "and then I will look
in before I go to business."
And he went to sleep in the hope and belief that all traces of his
adventure would have disappeared by the time he woke up again.
CHAPTER IX
A BLACK EYE
WHEN Arthur got up the next morning he saw, to his dismay and disgust,
that in addition to his swollen nose, he had a black eye, as a result
of the blow he had received the previous evening.
"Oh, Arthur, whatever will you do?" exclaimed Molly when, in answer to
his "come in," she opened the door and saw him at the looking-glass
surveying critically his injured face.
"I shouldn't do for a beauty-show just now, should I?" replied the lad,
trying to make a joke of the affair.
"Don't you think Alice had better run for the doctor at once?" said
Molly.
Arthur laughed. "That's like a girl," he said. "There's nothing to be
afraid of, only we are pretty busy just now, and how am I to get up to
the counting-house without being seen? That's the problem, Molly. Mr.
Brading would not like to see me go in such a sight as this, I know,
but Mr. Bristow would be vexed if I stayed away while there is such a
rush of work as we have just now."
"But you can't walk through the streets such a sight as that,"
protested Molly. "You must write a note, and I will take it down to Mr.
Brading."
But Arthur shook his head. "That won't do at all. I would rather pay
for a cab than do that. I must hold a pocket-handkerchief up to that
side of my face, as though I had got the toothache—" And at this point
his elder sister came in and at once declared that he could not go out
that day.
"I shall send Alice for some lotion, and you must keep your eye
bandaged well to-day, and then you may be able to go out to-morrow."
"Send for the lotion by all means, Annie, and I will use it, but I
cannot stay at home, we are too busy."
"But you are such a sight!" said his sister. "What will people think,
to see you with such a face?"
"People sha'n't see, and to make sure of this, I will take some
sandwiches with me for dinner, and then I need not go into another
part of the place until I come home, and I hope I shall be all right
to-morrow. I wonder how poor old Ted feels this morning!"
"I hope he feels very ill," said Molly viciously, "for it isn't the
first time he has been into the town and had too much to drink. Hannah
saw him there one night, hardly able to walk, before she left."
"Well, I hope Hannah got him off to bed before his mother got home last
night," said Arthur. And then, having arranged his collar and tie to
his satisfaction, they all went downstairs. And while Annie sent Alice
to the chemist's for some lotion for the injured eye, Molly went to the
kitchen and cut the sandwiches for Arthur to take with him. Annie again
tried to persuade him to stay at home as she poured out the coffee,
wishing at the same time that Arthur had not gone out where he could
meet his cousin.
"That's all very well, Annie, but who knows what might have happened to
Ted if I had not been at hand to help him against those roughs! They
might have knocked him about terribly."
"Well, they have knocked you about, and I don't see why you should have
what he deserved. I call it quite disgraceful, and I wonder Aunt Mary
allows it."
"Aunt Mary wouldn't allow it, of course, if she could help it. I
suppose Ted has fallen in with bad company because he had nothing to
do, and Aunt Mary is a regular dragon," concluded Arthur.
By the time breakfast was over, Alice had got back with the lotion,
and Molly had cut a good supply of sandwiches. Finding she could not
persuade her brother to give up the idea of going out, she arranged the
pocket-handkerchief he was to carry as neatly as she could so as to
hide the discoloured eye, and Arthur went a few minutes earlier than
usual that he might go in at a side-door and so escape observation.
He was just tying up the last letter-bag when Mr. Bristow arrived.
"Good-morning, sir! Do you think one of the messengers might take the
letters round for me this morning?"
Mr. Bristow stopped and looked curiously at Arthur. "You have been in
the wars," he remarked.
"Yes, sir, but it might have been worse, for my cousin at least. He
was set upon by a couple of roughs up the Sycamore Road last night,
and I happened to go that way for a walk and came across them. I got a
knock-down blow, and might have had another if two gentlemen had not
come to our help and then got a cab for me to take Ted home."
"Well, you seem to have fared badly in the encounter," remarked the
gentleman. "Of course I will send a messenger round with the letters.
If you can manage to do your work, I shall be glad for you to stay, of
course."
"Yes, I knew I could not be spared to take holiday just now, and I have
brought some sandwiches with me so that no one but you need see me
to-day, and I dare say it will be better to-morrow."
And Mr. Bristow having taken charge of the letter-bags, Arthur sat down
to his usual work. He did not see Mr. Brading that morning, for he was
busy in another part of the house. It was about eleven o'clock that a
messenger came to enquire if Mr. Brading was in his own room.
"Is he wanted very specially?" asked Mr. Bristow. "For I know he does
not want to be disturbed this morning."
"It's Lady Mary Murray, sir," answered the messenger.
Mr. Bristow pondered for a moment, and then decided that it would
be better to send the man to Mr. Brading and let him decide whether
he would see the lady or not. And so he told the man where he would
probably find him.
Mr. Brading was not best pleased at being summoned to another interview
with the lady, remembering what the last had been, but when he reached
his downstairs private room, he found her seated and quite disposed to
be pleasant, and even cordial.
"Good-morning, Mr. Brading! I am afraid I was a little excited, a
little put-out, yesterday morning when I was here, and so I have called
again to correct any unfavourable impression upon your mind, and also
to tell you that for the present. I shall not take any further stops
to trace that missing letter, and, in fact, I feel disposed to let the
matter drop, and put up with the loss of the money, if you will help me
in another matter."
Mr. Brading bowed. "Of course, as we have never received your
ladyship's letter we cannot be held responsible for it," he said
cautiously.
"Well, there is very little doubt who had the letter and cashed the
cheque," said Lady Mary. "But now I am more anxious on my son's
account, and this is what I have come to consult you about. Let me
tell you what happened last night not far from your own door. I was
returning home from an early dinner-party when I noticed a cab drawn up
a little way up that side road just above your house, and almost at the
same moment I saw your clerk, who calls himself Arthur Murray, but is a
disgrace to the name, come staggering along as though he could not walk
straight, and the cab was evidently waiting for him, for the cabman
called to him, and he got into the cab and was driven away. Now, you
must know whether or not that boy could afford to go driving about like
that of an evening!"
"Perhaps not, in the way you put it, my lady," said Mr. Brading; "but I
could not charge a lad with being dishonest because he rode out in the
evening. There might be a good reason for having the cab there."
"Well, I see I shall have to tell you all my tale, although it involves
the reputation of my own dear son, and then, I think, you will see
that it is quite reasonable and right that I should demand that Arthur
Murray should be discharged from your employment and sent to another
town where—"
"But, my lady, I have no such control as that over my employees,"
interrupted Mr. Brading.
"But I think you will find a way to exercise it when you hear all my
story, if only for the sake of your own son, who I hear is a friend of
this artful lad's. When I got home last night my cook came to tell me
that my son and this Arthur Murray had come home very tipsy, and, as I
learned later, my son had lost or been robbed of his watch and chain.
Now, when I tell you that this sort of thing has been going on for
years and years, that he has constantly been leading my poor boy into
mischief of some sort or other, you will understand how anxious I am to
remove him from such bad company, and the only way to do it is for one
or other of them to leave the neighbourhood. I cannot part with my dear
Adrian for any length of time, and so I do hope you will help me to get
rid of Arthur, for he is, I can assure you, a dreadful boy! Actually
calls me a dragon, I hear from my cook, who lived with them as long as
they could keep a decent servant!"
Mr. Brading could scarcely keep from smiling at the lady's last
charge, and yet he knew not what to think of the other part of her
communication. He paused before replying, to see if the lady had
anything else to bring forward to the lad's discredit, and also so to
frame his answer as to leave himself uncommitted to any special course
of action, and yet not to give any offence to Lady Mary.
He was much more disposed to credit her statements this morning, for
she spoke calmly and reasonably, and there was not the heat of temper
in what she said. She, on her part, could see that she had made a more
favourable impression on Mr. Ending, and was anxious to follow it up by
being unusually gracious, and so, after a pause, she said:
"I suppose you have not heard the great news yet, that the railway is
really coming at last, and coming by the old route that was supposed to
have been given up for a short-cut that would practically have left our
town far from its benefits."
"No, indeed, I have not heard a word about it," said Mr. Brading, his
interest at once aroused. For if this information was correct, it would
alter all the plans he was formulating just now for the building of
a new factory which the extension of his business demanded should be
set about without delay. "May I ask the source of your information, my
lady?" he said.
She laughed and shook her head. "I cannot tell you that, Mr. Brading,"
she answered. "But you may rely upon it as being quite true."
"Thank you; but you see for years past there have been so many rumours
about this railway, that one is shy of giving credence to anything."
"Oh, I can assure you that this is no idle rumour! My brother, Lord
Lismore, is on the board of directors. Not that he knows anything
about business," she hastened to add, "but he likes to see his name in
print; and I have said to him more than once: 'If you can get a railway
through our town, I will give you a hundred pounds for the earliest
information.' So you see, Mr. Brading, I am making you a valuable
present, for I only heard this morning that the route is decidedly
fixed at last, and the railway will be here before our sleepy old town
can wake up from its astonishment."
Mr. Brading laughed. "I am not much interested in railway stock," he
said, "or I might hurry to buy some shares in this. But now to return
to the matter under discussion. I must have time to look at the whole
matter fairly. I make it a rule, both in the management of my business
and the ruling of my life, to do as far as I possibly can to other
people as I should wish them, and could fairly expect them, to do if
I were in their place and they were in mine. Now you see, in dealing
with this lad, I have to put myself in the place of his father, and ask
myself what I could reasonably expect if he were my Jack."
"But, Mr. Brading, that notion is absurd! You never could be an idle
spendthrift like Charles Murray, living on expectations and credit and—"
"Ah!" suddenly interrupted Mr. Brading. "The expectations were founded
on this very railway we have been talking about."
"Very likely," said the lady shortly, rising from her seat as she
spoke. "But it can make no difference to them now, for the waste and
extravagance that have been going on for years and years have eaten up
their land. And so the best thing for Arthur is to go to London, and if
you can force him to do this, I am sure it will be a kindness to him if
you could only think so."
"Then I may tell the lad that this is your advice, my lady?" said Mr.
Brading, looking keenly at her.
"Oh no!" she almost screamed. "You must not mention my name in it. But
I may tell you that I shall be compelled to press that matter about
Andrews' cheque, if it is not found in a day or two."
"Andrews' cheque?" repeated Mr. Brading in a mystified tone.
"Yes, yes; Andrews the lawyer, I mean. It was the cheque I sent to you.
It happened this way. I wanted a vest for my son, and had written the
order and said I enclosed a cheque for five pounds, and then I could
not find my cheque-book. My son was waiting to post my letter for me,
and I remembered that I had this cheque sent by Mr. Andrews, and took
it out of my pocket and endorsed it, and put that in to save further
bother."
"Did your son see you sign this cheque, my lady?" asked Mr. Brading.
"Very likely he did; he was waiting for the letter, I tell you. But
that has nothing to do with it. He posted the letter, he says; and what
I want to know is this: Who stole that letter after it came into this
house?"
Mr. Brading shook his head. "You have to prove first, my lady, that the
letter did come into this house," he said calmly.
"Of course there is a difficulty about that. I shall have to send for
Lismore and a London detective, as the post office people say it must
have come here, and I don't want to have all that bother. And so I ask
you to compromise the matter by discharging this lad without saying a
word more than you are obliged as to the reason. Say you have altered
your plans, and that you will recommend him to anyone in London."
"What! You want to convince me that the lad is dishonest, and then in
the same breath ask me to recommend him to a stranger? No, my lady, I
am a plain man, of straightforward dealing, and I could not do that to
the poorest errand boy in my employ."
Then began the Irish jig once more. Lady Mary lost control of her
temper, and said a good many things she would fain have left unsaid,
and at last left Mr. Brading as perplexed as before, both with regard
to Arthur and also as to what he had better do in his own business
arrangements, if the news concerning the railway was true.
He sat for nearly ten minutes after the lady had left the room. And
then he exclaimed:
"I wish I had never seen the woman! What am I to believe? What am I to
do? I've a good mind to go and talk to Andrews about it. He knows me,
and he knows these Murrays. He may be able to make something of this
tangle, for it seems as though a Solomon was needed to unravel it."
If Mr. Brading had been curious, and had watched the movements of Lady
Mary, he would have seen that she, too, went to consult a lawyer. But
it was not to Mr. Andrews' office that she bent her steps. Her man of
business was a Mr. Simmons, a much younger man, and people considered
him much more clever. Certainly he was much sharper in his practices.
Everybody admitted that.
But to Lady Mary's imperious demand to see Mr. Simmons without delay,
the clerk replied: "He is not in just now, my lady."
"When will he be in?" she asked.
"Very soon now, my lady, I think."
"Very well; I am going home now. Tell him to come to me as soon as he
comes in."
"Could you leave any instructions, my lady, in case Mr. Simmons should
be late?" asked the clerk insinuatingly.
"What do you mean?" demanded Lady Mary, with a look of withering scorn.
"I came to consult Mr. Simmons, and if he is not here, he must come to
me!"
And saying this, the lady sailed out of the office just in time for Mr.
Brading to see her cross the road, as he walked up the street to see
Mr. Andrews.
"I am glad I decided to see a lawyer, since her ladyship is going to do
the same thing," he muttered half-aloud as he went on.
He was more fortunate than Lady Mary had been with her legal adviser.
Mr. Andrews was at his office, and quite ready to listen to Mr.
Brading's rather long story, which he told by way of explaining how he
came to be possessed of the news about the railway.
Mr. Andrews was a man of few words in general, but when he heard of
the lady's visit to his rival, he rubbed his hands, and a smile broke
slowly all over his face.
"I am not sure that the news is not worth more than a hundred pounds to
me," he said. "Now what is your own particular business, Mr. Brading?"
asked the lawyer.
"Well, if this particular railway is coming at last, I had better
build my new factory as close to it as I can get the land. I was just
planning to buy up those cottages on the opposite side of Kent Street,
and place my factory there; but it would be infinitely better to have
it close to the railway. You can see that, of course?"
"Certainly I can. It will be better in every way, for it would be a
pity to pull down those cottages; and, moreover, I shall be glad to
sell you a plot of land near the railway, if it only comes."
"Very well then. Mind, it is a promise that if this comes about, I am
to have first chance of the land."
"Yes, you shall, Brading, if only for what you have done for Arthur
Murray. The lad has grit, and you have given him a chance of proving
it."
But Mr. Brading would not be drawn into discussing this topic.
"I must be going," he said. "I have been hindered a good deal already.
Lady Mary and such folk have small idea of the value of time to a busy
man, but you have, and I am not going to be tempted to talk to you any
longer," he added with a laugh.
Mr. Andrews was a keen observer, and knew Mr. Brading well, and he
detected something like a false ring in the laughter of his old friend.
"There is a screw loose somewhere if I am not mistaken," he muttered
to himself as he went back to his seat, after opening the door for Mr.
Brading.
Then he touched the gong on his table, and a young clerk came in from
the outer office. "Send Phillips to me," he said.
"Mr. Phillips is just going to his dinner, sir."
"Run after him, then, and tell him I want to see him first," said Mr.
Andrews.
The old clerk, who knew all the secrets of the office as well as Mr.
Andrews did himself, came back the next minute.
"I want a word with you," said Mr. Andrews, "before you go out. Sit
down for a moment. Have you heard any talk of the new railway lately?"
The man smiled, and shook his head. "That is as dead as a door-nail,"
he said in a lower tone.
"Not if what I have heard this morning is true. Now I want you to send
a confidential telegram to Barclay about this. He will understand what
I mean, but they won't at the post office, and you understand I don't
want the news to be the town talk yet."
The old man nodded. "It will make a deal of difference to this office
if it should be true," he remarked.
"Yes, it will. But I also want to find out which of the two lads is
making himself the talk of the place over that new billiard saloon. Do
you think you could find out for me whether it is Lady Mary's son or
the lad that will be benefited if this railway comes through the town?
Lady Mary's son is a little chap, thin and delicate-looking, but our
lad is a tall, strapping fellow. Be particular that you do not confuse
the one with the other, and if it is necessary to spend a little
money in pressing the enquiry, it can go down as office expenses. You
understand, Phillips?"
"Oh, yes, sir! I think I know what you want, and you may trust me for
making sure of my facts before I bring you the information."
Then Mr. Andrews wrote his telegram to a confidential agent in London,
and before he left the office to return home that evening he heard that
the information he had received might be relied upon. So that now it
only depended upon the report he heard as to how Arthur was spending
his time in the evenings, whether he should exercise all his skill and
power to rescue the property that nominally belonged to him, or whether
he should let things drift to the end that was inevitable—foreclosure
by those who held it as security for money lent, that had simply been
wasted in idle indulgence by its late owners.
CHAPTER X
THE NEW RAILWAY
A FORTNIGHT passed. Arthur's face had lost all trace of the blows he
had received in trying to rescue his cousin, and Adrian was once more
lounging about the streets of the town, although everybody had heard
by this time that he was going to Oxford as soon as the necessary
arrangements had been made.
But a change had come over Arthur. That was quite evident to Molly at
least. He often looked careworn, anxious, and perplexed, but to all
her questions as to what was the matter she always received the same
answer: "Nothing that I know of, Pussy. When I know anything worth
telling, you shall know it."
This, so far as Arthur was concerned, was only half the truth, for
in point of fact he was very uncomfortable at his work, now that Mr.
Brading's manner towards him had totally changed. Jack was never
allowed to come in and have five minutes' chat with him, as he used to
do at first, and yet no fault was found with him. There was nothing
that he could definitely lay hold of and say, "Why am I treated thus?"
Everybody treated him with politeness, and yet he fancied they looked
at him suspiciously. Mr. Brading was icy in his demeanour towards him.
Instead of meeting him with a pleasant smile of greeting when he came
in, there was only the coldest and most distant recognition of his
presence.
One day when Arthur was out he saw Jack Brading coming towards him, and
noticed that the next minute, when he had recognized him, he darted
down a side street, and Arthur felt sure that it was on purpose to
avoid him.
This was harder to bear than anything he had yet endured, and that
evening he went home with a severe headache. He was not much better in
the morning, but he insisted upon getting up and going to his work as
usual, although both his sisters tried to persuade him to stay in bed
for an hour longer at least.
"You forget it is my duty to see to the letters," said Arthur, as he
picked at his breakfast, but failed to eat half of it.
"I am sure there is something wrong down at that shop," said Molly,
after he had gone.
But Annie gave but a divided attention to what her sister said. She
was thinking of a rumour that had reached her ears the day before—but
which had been told her as a great secret—that the railway, in which so
many hopes had centred in years gone by, was coming at last, and before
Arthur had got half-way to the London Road, she had told Molly.
The girl shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "I shall believe it
when the station is built, but not before," she said. "Don't tell Mamma
about it, or she will never be satisfied with her new dressing-gown.
She is pleased enough with it, and with the idea of saving money by
turning old dresses into new ones, but only mention that railway and
see what will happen! More than half the dresses she has got put away
were bought on the news coming that we were going to sell some of the
land for the railway. No! I shall never believe it any more," concluded
Molly.
This so far impressed Annie that she agreed to keep the good news to
herself, at least for the present, and so Mrs. Murray knew nothing of
the hopes and fears that alternately made Annie hot and cold as she
thought of what was hanging in the balance for them, if only the report
should prove to be true.
At last she could keep the secret to herself no longer. She must tell
Arthur, and as he had been so ready to go to Mr. Andrews for advice
when it was the question of stricter economy that had to be practised,
she thought he ought to go now and hear what was likely to happen.
But Arthur shook his head. "I heard about this a day or two ago, and
you may be sure that Andrews has heard it as well, and if there is
anything to be done for us he will do it. But I am afraid it comes a
little too early and a little too late to do us any good now."
"Why, what do you mean, Arthur?" asked his sister.
"You talk in riddles, as though you were a lawyer too!" said Molly,
keenly watching her brother, and feeling sure that there was some
secret trouble that he did not like to tell them about. And she tried
to rouse him out of it by saying, "Now explain your riddle, that we
simple folk may have the benefit of your wisdom."
"Well, it's just this," said Arthur, trying to look amused and
interested. "If the railway had come years ago, we should not have
been over head and ears in debt on the expectation of it, for every
bit of the property, except this cottage, has been mortgaged to its
full value. Mr. Andrews told me that the first time I saw him, for he
thought I ought to know just how things stood, that I might understand
the necessity there was for me to obtain employment, and persevere with
it, whatever it might be."
"And now you think you might have done better than go to a shop?"
interrupted Annie. "You are vexed that you did not take my advice and
wait a little longer, instead of being in such a hurry to take the
first thing that offered."
"Not a bit of it!" replied Arthur promptly. "The work I have to do
suits me down to the ground, and I would not exchange it for anything
else, because I like figures, and am quick, and accurate too, at
book-keeping. No, no; don't you get the idea into your heads that if
this railway scheme is going to be carried out, I am going to throw up
my employment. As I said before, if Andrews can save anything out of
the wreck, it must be for Mamma and you girls. I can shift for myself
very well, for I have no doubt, if I continue to give satisfaction, Mr.
Brading will raise my salary in a year. In fact he said as much, so
that you see I can be independent of the property."
"No, you can't, Arthur," put in Molly. "I have heard Papa say it was
his great wish that the property should come to you as it did to him,
and it must if the others don't grab it all."
"Ah! That's the hard nut that has to be cracked, if you girls are to
stay here with Mamma in comfort. The 'others' lent or gave their money
on this land, and if we can't pay back what they lent when they want
it, why, of course they take the land instead! There's no grabbing
about it. Papa and Grandpapa between them had the money, and spent it;
so, of course, there is none left for us. It is purely a matter of
business," added Arthur.
In point of fact, this question of the railway coming through the
Murray property was of small moment to Arthur just now. The trouble
that weighed upon his mind was the changed attitude Mr. Brading had
assumed towards him. He knew sufficient of his character now to be
certain that he would not do this without some grave reason, and he was
beginning to see that the only possible cause to disturb the harmony
of his relations with everybody in the house was Lady Mary's missing
letter.
He had been questioned about this very closely by Mr. Brading once, but
he could only reply that if the letter had been received from the post
office, he should have delivered it to Mr. Langley in the usual way. He
certainly had not noticed the letter, although it did bear a coronet,
but this was not to be wondered at, considering the number of letters
he had to sort every morning. He would just glance at the department
it was addressed to, and having ascertained this, he would place it in
the bag and deliver it with a number of others. Of course there were
occasional slips, and a letter got put into a wrong bag by mistake, in
which case the manager receiving it set the matter straight by sending
it at once to the department where it should have been delivered.
In spite of this rule, a strict enquiry had been made in every part of
the house, in the hope of tracing the missing letter; but nothing had
come of it. And there the matter remained, to Arthur's great annoyance
and anxiety, for although no word of accusation had been spoken against
him, he could feel that Mr. Brading, at least, suspected him of having
some share in its disappearance.
As time went on, and no clue to the mystery presented itself, he felt
sure that Mr. Brading thought he had actually stolen the letter, though
why he should do this he was at a loss to know.
At first he felt very bitter about it, and was half-disposed to resign
his situation, but on thinking over the matter closely and calmly, he
saw that this would never do. Hard as it was to stay, he must not leave
so long as Mr. Brading would let him remain.
If the letter was never found, he might live down the suspicion felt
against him just now, and by his life prove to all that he could not
be guilty of this theft. He had come to this resolution that very
afternoon, and at the same time had determined that he would keep the
whole matter to himself, since no good could be done by troubling his
sisters with it.
So when the talk was over, that occupied so much of Annie's thoughts
just now, he went up to his own room, for his head ached, and he
wanted to have a little quiet time to himself, and try to think out a
reasonable excuse for Mr. Brading taking up such a prejudice against
him.
It was hard for the lad to think such a thing possible, but as Mr.
Brading was known to be most fair and just in all his dealings, there
must be some basis on which he could rest his suspicion, apart from the
mere loss of the letter. And after going back to the old school-days,
when he had first heard of the family characteristic of living on
credit, he came to the conclusion that Mr. Brading was not so much to
blame after all.
School-boys are invariably frank in their criticism of each other, and
he remembered once that a lad had told him his father was no better
than a thief, if he could not pay for the things he bought, and never
tried to work that he might have the means of doing so.
There had been a tremendous fight on the way home from school, and
the boy had gone home with a black eye. But it is doubtful whether he
suffered half so much from Arthur's fists as Arthur himself did from
the words that had been spoken, for he knew even then that there was
some truth in the accusation, and that his fist had not cleared his
father's name from the aspersion.
Now, might it not be the same thought lingering in Mr. Binding's mind,
and that if there was not this inheritance of debt clinging to him, he
would never have thought twice before deciding that he, Arthur, was
innocent of this theft, wherever the letter might have gone. If only he
could get rid of it; if only he could earn the right to say, "No man
was ever wronged of a penny through my father!"
Then after a time came thoughts of the railway, and at once he began to
hope that this might prove a means of vindicating his father's memory.
So, without waiting to think a second time, he got pen and ink and
paper to write and tell Mr. Andrews of the report he had heard, and to
ask that if anything could be saved of their old patrimony, the first
use to be made of it should be to pay everyone who had ever lent them
money that was not refunded in full.
After this, if there was anything that could be spared, it was to be
set aside for his mother and sisters, as he felt sure now that he would
always be able to earn enough to keep himself, and consequently would
not want any of this money for himself. He was just signing his name to
this letter when Molly knocked at the door.
And Arthur felt so relieved by what he had done, that he could meet
her with a smile, when in answer to her knock, he said: "Come in, you
fidgety puss."
"I have come to see what you are doing," announced Molly, looking at
the writing materials on the table.
"Well, you can see I have been writing a letter, and now I am going to
address it to Mr. Andrews."
"What have you been writing about?" asked the girl curiously.
"What were we talking about before I came upstairs? Well, I have been
thinking it would be better to tell Andrews what we have heard about
the railway coming, and if he can save any of the old property, that
we should like him to clear off all Papa's old debts first, and then
whatever is left should be taken care of for Mamma and you girls. I
felt sure it was what you and Annie would wish, and so I have said so."
"Yes, Arthur, that is right, I am sure, but I don't think any
difference should be made. It is really your patrimony, and I don't
see why you should give it all to us. We might share and share alike
perhaps."
"Two bites at a cherry won't satisfy anybody," replied Arthur, "and I
am afraid the cherry will be so small, even if it is saved, that there
will be only half a bite for anybody after the old debts are paid.
I think it will be a lesson to me for all my life never to get into
debt," added Arthur.
But Molly did not know how bitter the thought of this was to her
brother just now.
It was arranged that Molly should go for a walk with him as far as Mr.
Andrews' house, and then slip the letter into the letter-box at the
door. So Molly ran and fetched her hat and cape, and the brother and
sister were soon in the street walking towards the lawyer's house.
They were just turning the corner of the street, when all at once Molly
seized her brother's arm, and gripped it so tightly that he thought
for the moment she must be ill. "Look! Look!" she whispered. "There is
Adrian coming towards us, and he cannot walk straight! Oh dear, he will
fall down directly!"
Arthur stood still for a minute, and then, seeing that the young fellow
was almost as helpless as he had been when he met him before, he went
forward and took his arm.
Adrian tried to shake him off, but Arthur was the stronger, and he held
him in a firm grasp as he said: "I say, this won't do. You know your
mother will be greatly upset if she should know you have been to that
saloon again!"
"Mind your own business, and don't go chattering!" he muttered, with an
ugly oath.
"Molly, you must not stand there! Go home, dear, and I will leave the
letter as I go past Mr. Andrews' office in the morning. I must take
this chap home, or he may fall among thieves again."
"You're a nice fellow to talk about thieves! Who stole my mother's
letter down at that shop?" sneered Adrian, who was not so drunk that he
could not recognize Arthur.
Arthur's face blazed crimson with anger for a minute, and he felt
disposed to knock his cousin down, but second thoughts compelled him to
hold him up lest he should fall.
"Don't be a fool, Adrian," he said. "You know more about that letter
than I do."
"It's a lie! It's a lie! You can't prove anything! I tell you there is
nothing you can prove against me!" he hissed.
"Don't you make too sure of that, old chap," said Arthur when he could
speak, for he was so utterly astonished at the words Adrian had used,
that he could only stare at him for a minute, while Molly looked at
both of them, wondering whether she could have heard aright, and what
it could mean.
"Shall I put you into a cab, and tell the man to drive you home?" asked
Arthur, after a pause to consider what he had better do.
"I can get home without your help!" muttered Adrian.
"But this is not the way home," said Arthur. "You have come to the
wrong end of the town. Let me walk back with you and put you on the
road," said Arthur.
And he was not without hope that some stray word would give him a clue
as to what had been done with the missing letter and cheque. So he
took Adrian's arm to go back with him, while Molly, equally determined
to see that her brother did not have another black eye for his pains,
walked on the other side. And they were walking like this when all at
once the half-drunken young fellow saw her for the first time, and
immediately demanded that she should come and walk with him.
"Go home, Molly," whispered Arthur.
"Don't you go, Moll, for a cad and a thief," said Adrian.
"Look here! I'm not going to stand any of that nonsense," said Arthur.
"If you don't keep a civil tongue in your head, I shall hand you over
to the first policeman I meet, and—"
"But they can't prove anything against me, I tell you! If I had the
cheque, you had the letter with the biggest bite! So your mouth should
keep shut. Come here, Moll!" he cried.
"My sister shall not come near you," said Arthur sternly.
"Then I'm hanged if I'm going to walk with you—a mean shop-thief like
you!" And, as he spoke, he gave himself a violent twist and wrenched
himself away from Arthur's detaining hold, and the next minute sat down
on the pavement the very picture of helpless imbecility.
Molly uttered a slight scream, and Arthur looked at him for a minute,
wondering what he should do next.
At last he turned to Molly and said: "I cannot leave him where he is,
dear. Will you mind going to the next street and calling a cab? Or will
you stand and watch him while I go for it?"
"Oh no, no! I would rather run a mile than be near him when he looks
like that! Oh, poor Aunt Mary! What will she say!" exclaimed the girl,
as she ran off to where she knew a cab would be found. She was not gone
long, and she happened to find the man who had taken Adrian home before.
"Good evening, sir!" he said to Arthur as he jumped from the box to
help his fare into the vehicle.
"You'll know where to take him this time," said Arthur.
"Yes, sir, I've taken him twice since you went with us," said the
cabman.
And Adrian was deposited in the bottom of the cab, and then the brother
and sister turned homewards.
CHAPTER XI
WHAT DID HE MEAN?
AS the cab drove off, bearing Adrian towards his home, the brother and
sister walked on in silence for a minute or two, quite forgetting the
object of their walk in the thoughts that occupied their minds.
At last Molly said, "We never used to have secrets from each other.
Won't you tell me what Cousin Ted meant by calling you a thief, and
saying you stole his mother's letter?"
After a minute's pause, Arthur said: "Look here, Molly, I don't know
much more about the affair than you do, except this: that a letter was
sent to our Mr. Langley a week or two ago, and it never reached him.
Lady Mary came and saw the governor, and made a fine row about it. She
told him, I believe, that her son posted the letter, but after what Ted
has said to-night, I shall begin to think that neither the post office
nor we lost it."
"He was tipsy, you know, Arthur," said Molly, who would far rather
think the post office guilty of stealing the letter than that anyone
belonging to her should be deemed guilty of the mean action.
"Yes, if he had not been tipsy, he would not have said what he did;
but 'when the drink is in, the wit is out.' I wonder whether he will
remember what he said when he wakes up in the morning!" said Arthur in
a musing tone. "I think I ought to tell Mr. Bristow what he said, it
may prove to be a clue for discovering who had the cheque."
"Who do they think stole it?" asked Molly.
"Well, you see, I have to sort the morning mailbag and distribute the
letters, and so naturally the suspicion rests upon me."
"Arthur!" exclaimed the girl, stopping in the middle of the street and
seizing him by the shoulders.
"Don't, Molly! Don't do that! And don't say a word to them at home."
"But—but, Arthur, nobody can really think you would do such a thing!"
said poor Molly, with gasp.
"I don't know, dear, quite what people think, only I have fancied
lately that Mr. Brading does, and Jack has not been in to see me as he
used to the first month I was there."
"Then it is this that has made you look so pale and anxious lately? I
was sure that something must have happened. You must not stay there,
of course. I shall begin to think, with Annie, that you ought never to
have gone to that shop!"
"Oh, I like the work very well, and Mr. Brading—"
"Yes, yes, we know all about that," interrupted Molly impatiently. "But
now you must leave, of course; you cannot stay there to be insulted."
"Nobody has insulted me, Molly; and as for leaving, I must stay now
until this affair is cleared up. Why, if the railway were to bring us
a fortune directly, I would go to Mr. Brading and say, 'Let me stay
here until I can prove that I am innocent of this theft.' It would be
the only way of clearing my character in the eyes of the world. I never
thought of the value of this until lately, but I can see it is the
only way for me, hard as it may be. But I say, we have forgotten this
letter."
And Arthur was just turning to run across the road, when he came into
contact with Mr. Andrews, very much as he had done the first time he
met him.
"I beg your pardon, I am very sorry," said Arthur, when he could
recover the power to speak.
"You are doing the steam-engine trick again," said the lawyer.
And then he saw Molly, and asked her why she allowed her brother to be
out of her keeping, seeing he was such a danger to the public when left
to himself?
"This is the second time he has nearly knocked me backwards," added the
old gentleman.
"I was taking a letter to your house," said Arthur. "I hope the news in
it will not affect you in a similar way. I cannot say I think much of
it myself at present."
"Well, well, as you say it is a high explosive, I will wait until I
reach the safety of my own armchair before opening it, and I should
advise you young people to go home now."
"Yes, indeed we must," said Molly, "for we have been out much longer
than we intended, and Annie will be in a fright about us."
And the two shook hands with Mr. Andrews and wished him good-night.
This fortnight which had brought such an uneasiness and anxiety to
Arthur had not been much more pleasant to Lady Mary. She wrote letters
and sent telegrams to her lawyer, but could only get vague polite
assurances from his chief clerk that her business should be attended
to at the earliest possible moment, and then at last she heard that
Mr. Simmons was ill, and had been obliged to leave home for rest and
change. She obtained this information at last, after a personal protest
to the young man left in charge of the office and business.
"Why didn't you tell me this when I first called and asked to see Mr.
Simmons?" fumed Lady Mary. "What business had you to tell me that Mr.
Simmons would see me the next day?"
And the Irish Jig was performed for the edification of the other two
clerks, for at the thought of the hundred pounds she had paid for early
information of what all the town was now talking of, she felt like
tearing her hair, or else the clerk's who had managed to delay her
business.
"And you mean to tell me that Mr. Simmons has not had my letters?"
"I was compelled to obey orders, my lady. The letters went up to the
house, but I don't think the doctor would let him open them. I have had
to keep things going here as well as I could, but as your letters were
marked 'Strictly private,' why, of course they wouldn't be opened till
Mr. Simmons could attend to them himself, my lady."
The young man evidently thought this ought to reassure the irate lady,
but it only made her the more angry. "I might just as well have thrown
my hundred pounds in the gutter, and all through setting an idiot like
you to look after business! What was Simmons thinking about to trust
anybody like you with his office?"
And again followed another example of the Irish jig that well-nigh
made the clerks forget they were on duty, and that it was no less a
personage than Lady Mary Murray that was provoking their laughter.
This interview at her lawyer's office took place the same day that
Arthur and Molly met Adrian in the evening, and she went home from
that interview determined that no further time should be lost, and
recalling all the legal phraseology she could to her aid, she wrote to
Mr. Andrews as she imagined the lawyer would have done. At any rate she
made her meaning clear enough, which was this: that she now held all
the mortgages on the Murray property, and she intended to foreclose
at once unless the money was paid with interest up to date, and paid
within ten days.
To her utter astonishment and dismay, she received a letter from Mr.
Andrews the next day, saying that the money was ready to be paid over
when Mr. Simmons was well enough to transact business.
"Adrian! What do you think of the impudence of that lawyer Andrews? He
has actually written to say that I can have my money as soon as Simmons
is well enough to settle the business!"
"What money is that?" asked Adrian, rousing himself from his sleepy
lethargy to look across at his mother. "What money is that?" he
repeated. "You told me only yesterday that you were very short of cash
just now."
"So I am, dreadfully short!" replied the lady.
"Then I suppose you will be glad to hear that you can get this money?
And I know I am, for I want some, and you must let me have it too,"
said the young fellow in a sulky defiant tone.
"Adrian! What do you mean?" exclaimed his mother in a tone of
astonishment.
"Well, Mother, you seem to forget that I am not a school-boy, and want
money like other young men."
"What for? I am sure you have everything you can want at home here
until you go to Oxford."
"I don't know that I shall go to Oxford now. What's the good of it? I
may go to London and live in chambers like any other fellow. But now
about this money, of course it is yours, but where has it been that you
have always been so short of ready cash?"
"Lent on mortgage. Lent on land that the new railway must buy, and
buy at my price. I have been waiting for years for this to happen. My
brother, Lismore, always said it would come, sooner or later, and his
word has come true for once."
"But if lawyer Andrews says you can have your money when you like, they
don't mean to let you have the land," said Adrian roughly.
"But I won't have it! They can't pay it! Who would trust a shop-boy
with five pounds? I wouldn't, after what has happened, and I shall go
and see Andrews this morning, and ask him what he means by sending
me such a letter? Of course it was always understood that I should
foreclose when it suited me, in spite of the terms of the mortgage."
"What were the terms?" asked Adrian, who could be sharp enough where
money was concerned, however dull and indifferent he might be in other
matters. "What were the terms upon which you lent this money, Mother?"
"Well, just for form's sake, it was set down that if the money could be
repaid within fourteen days from the time that I gave notice, then of
course I could not touch the land. But they cannot repay it! I tell you
it amounts to some thousands of pounds now, and they haven't as many
farthings! I may let a little stand over, if they will agree to leave
the town and the neighbourhood, but it is not pleasant to have poor
relations close under one's nose, and I shall be glad to get rid of
them."
"So shall I! For that prig, Arthur, is always interfering with me and
my concerns. I can't even walk about the town but he is dogging my
steps and trying to get things out of me, asking me questions about my
affairs in the most impudent fashion, considering that he has disgraced
our family and name by going to serve in a shop."
"He always was a most impudent, mischievous boy, and he certainly must
be got rid of somehow."
"Well, if you can do it, I shall be glad enough. Only do it quietly,
Mother. I don't want our name dragged through the gutter, the police
called in, and all that sort of thing."
"I certainly shall call in the police, if he will not leave Fairmead
without!"
"Very well, do as you like, only let me know, for I don't mean to be
mixed up in such a disgraceful affair. I shall go to London and stay
with my uncle Lismore for a little while. So give me due notice of the
police being put on the job and I am off."
He suited the action to the word and lounged out of the morning-room
and went upstairs, for it had just occurred to him that he might as
well have his portmanteau packed in readiness in case his mother should
forget to inform him that she had consulted the police, and he should
be taken unawares, which would certainly be awkward.
Lady Mary sat considering the position of her affairs for a minute, and
then resolved to call upon Mr. Andrews and find out, if she could, just
what he meant by the letter she had received from him.
In answer to her question whether she could see Mr. Andrews, she was
shown to his private room, and was received by the lawyer with no small
surprise. "I have come to say that I am very much astonished at the
terms of your letter," she said.
"Indeed, my lady! What was there so astonishing in it?" asked the old
man.
"Well, you know I have lent my money—"
"At a very fair interest," interrupted the lawyer.
"Well, yes, I suppose it was," admitted the lady. "But still I always
understood, since I took up the other mortgages, that the land would
fall into my hands eventually. Poor Charles said many times, 'You will
foreclose, Mary, when it suits you.'"
"Certainly, and you have given me due notice of your intention to do
so, and I have replied that we, on our side, are prepared to pay over
the amount due on all the land given as security."
"But you can't do it!" stamped Lady Mary.
"I beg your pardon! There is nothing in the deeds to prevent this,
provided I have the money ready, and I may tell you that the money is
ready now, and I wrote to Mr. Simmons at the same time I wrote to you,
saying I should be glad to know when he could attend to this."
"I don't believe it!" almost screamed Lady Mary.
And having said this, she opened the door and almost ran out of the
house in her excitement and indignation.
Without waiting to think what her next step should be, she walked as
fast as she could to Arthur's home, and knocked so loudly at the door
that the little maid dropped the plate she was washing, in her hurry to
dry her hands and be ready to receive the important visitor at the door.
The two young ladies were out, she told the imposing-looking lady,
dropping a curtsy in her awe of the stately stranger.
"I can see Mrs. Murray, I suppose?" said the visitor, pushing past the
little maid and going to the stair.
"I will go and ask the mistress," said Alice in an awe-struck tone, as
she ran after her.
"You need not trouble yourself," said Lady Mary. "I am an old friend of
Mrs. Murray's. You need not look like that; I am not going to eat her."
"Oh, Mary, I thought you had quite forgotten us!"
Alice heard her mistress say these words, and then she went back to the
kitchen to finish her dish-washing. She soon came to the conclusion,
from the sounds that reached her from the upstairs room, that the door
was not closed when the visitor went in, and that the two ladies were
having what she called "a jolly row."
"I hope it's about them beastly cats as Missis is so fond of," muttered
Alice, as she stood near the half-opened kitchen door.
She could not hear a word that was said distinctly, but she could
distinguish Lady Mary's loud imperious tones, and then her mistress
seemed to protest in a thin piping voice that only made the other more
angry.
Then after a time, the heavy footstep came downstairs, and before she
could get to the street door to open it, she heard it closed with a
bang.
Then Alice went into the scullery to scour some dirty sauce-pans, and
amused herself by singing a popular ditty at the top of her voice,
which she was not always so free to do as she was this morning.
She had finished her scullery work, to her own satisfaction at least,
and was tying on a clean apron preparatory to setting the dinner-table,
when there came a knock at the door which she instantly recognized as
Miss Molly's, and ran to open it.
"Thank you, Alice!" said Molly pleasantly, and then she went to the
foot of the stairs and called: "We have come home, Mamma."
There was no reply from the upper room, and Molly remarked:
"She must have shut her door, I think."
"Have you been singing, Alice?" asked Annie.
"Just a little," admitted Alice, with a heightened colour. "But I
didn't begin while the lady was here."
"The lady, what lady?" asked Molly quickly.
But Alice could only shake her head.
"Did she go up to see your mistress?" asked Annie.
"Yes, ma'am. She said she knowed the missis ever so long, and she did
too, for I heard the misses say, 'Oh, Mary!' And then I come downstairs
and let 'em have their row to themselves."
The two girls stood and looked at Alice in amazement.
"What do you mean?" said Molly angrily.
"I ain't saying no harm, Miss Molly, for it's true as I'm here that the
lady and the missis had a jolly row, and then the lady went away, and I
began my sauce-pans with that silver sand I bought of the man."
But while Molly was questioning and listening to Alice, Annie ran
upstairs to her mother's room, and Molly and Alice both heard her
calling, "Mamma! Mamma! Where are you? Where are you hiding?"
Molly ran up then, closely followed by the little servant.
"Well, if this don't beat all!" she exclaimed, as she stood staring in
at the sitting-room door.
While the sisters went from bedroom to sitting-room and back again,
looking, and calling, "Mamma! Mamma!"
"What sort of a lady was it who came? Was there a carriage at the
gate?" asked Annie, wondering whether one of their old friends had
called to take the invalid out for a drive, as the weather was so
pleasant.
"There warn't no carriage, and the lady were too big for most," said
Alice.
"Then it was Aunt Mary. But where can she have taken Mamma? Did you see
the lady go out?" asked Annie.
Alice shook her head. "She were too quick for a little 'un like me. She
was down the stairs and out of the house in a winking, before I could
wipe my hands out of the dishes."
"And then did you hear my mother moving afterwards?" asked Molly.
"I jest heard nothing, Miss Molly, for I threw my dish-water away and
began my scouring—"
"And singing too, I suppose?" said Annie.
"Yes 'm, I sung a bit, for I thought I couldn't hurt the missis or her
head out there in the scullery; and I never heard nothing till I opened
the door for you just now."
"You may go down now, Alice, and set the dinner things," said Annie.
The two sisters stood and looked at each other and the vacant room
after the little maid had left them, each lost in wondering amazement,
until Molly suggested that they should see whether her mother's bonnet
had been moved out of the deep drawer of the wardrobe.
When her husband died, Mrs. Murray insisted that a widow's bonnet and
mantle should be provided for her, although she was little likely to
wear it. And now they saw that bonnet and mantle were both missing, so
that, whatever Alice might say to the contrary, it was evident that
Mrs. Murray had gone out, and she must have gone with Lady Mary on some
important errand.
This was the conclusion the sisters arrived at, after talking the
matter over. But they were none the less anxious about their mother,
for what effect the unwonted excitement might have upon her they could
not tell.
"I do wish we had not gone out this morning!" exclaimed Annie.
"I am sorry too; but who would have thought of Aunt Mary coming this
morning? It was just because we were both out," concluded Molly, who
went and sat near the window, instead of at the dinner-table, that she
might catch the first glimpse of her mother coming along the road when
she should return.
CHAPTER XII
A SURPRISE FOR ARTHUR
"CAN I speak to you for a few minutes, sir, when I have distributed the
letters?" asked Arthur, when Mr. Bristow came in, the morning after he
and Molly had been for their walk.
"Oh yes, of course! Is it anything very important?" asked the gentleman.
"I hardly know what to think of it myself, and that is why I want to
talk to you," replied Arthur.
And when the letter-bags were delivered, Arthur returned to the
counting-house and found Mr. Bristow ready to hear what he had to say.
"I met my cousin last night, Lady Mary's son," explained Arthur.
And then he related as clearly as he could what had taken place the
previous evening.
"You say he had taken too much to drink when you met him?"
"Oh yes! He could hardly walk. But I think a very little wine or
spirits makes him like that," said Arthur, anxious to screen his cousin
as much as he could.
"That matters little. The thing is, he did not know what he was talking
about when he admitted that, if he did know anything of the missing
letter, no one could prove it, and yet at the same time, he accused you
of stealing the letter. The two statements contradict each other."
"Yes, they do," admitted Arthur. "But I should like to ask you, Mr.
Bristow, whether you think I stole that letter?" And as he spoke,
Arthur looked earnestly into the man's eyes as though he would read his
answer there.
Mr. Bristow looked at him almost as earnestly as he replied: "Murray, I
don't believe you know any more of that letter than I do!"
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you for that word!" he said.
"I can bear it for a bit longer now."
And the boy turned and went to his own desk, for his eyes were full of
tears, and he did not want to let Mr. Bristow see them fall.
Mr. Brading was late before he came to his room that morning, but as
soon as he came, Mr. Bristow went in to tell him what he had heard from
Arthur. And they were still discussing the mysterious disappearance of
the letter, when a messenger knocked at the door and announced that a
lady was waiting to see Mr. Brading in his room downstairs.
"She is a real lady, sir," replied the man, in answer to the question,
"What name?"
"I will be down directly," said Mr. Brading. And he followed the man
almost immediately.
In the little downstairs parlour sat a thin, fragile-looking woman
dressed in widow's mourning, who was evidently making a great effort to
maintain her calmness, for Mr. Brading saw her lips quiver as she rose
from her seat and bowed in greeting.
"My name is Murray," she said in a low, tremulous voice, "and I am the
mother of Arthur Murray, who is in your employment."
She paused for a moment as if to gather strength and resolution for her
next words, and then she said quite calmly: "My relative, Lady Mary
Murray, has been to see me this morning, and she tells me that you have
so grave a charge to make against my son that it will be necessary
for me to remove him and send him out of the neighbourhood to avoid
disgrace being brought upon our name. Will you tell me exactly what
has happened, and all that Arthur has done? I am not sure that I can
believe you any more than I could Lady Mary, but I want to know the
worst, and at once," she added with a gasp.
Mr. Brading was afraid she was going to faint, and as soon as she
had finished speaking, he rose and went to a cupboard in the corner,
and the next minute was holding a glass of wine to her lips. "You
must drink this before I answer one word, Mrs. Murray." He spoke in a
commanding tone that helped the lady to gather all her forces to hear
the terrible words that might blight all her hopes for Arthur's future.
When Mr. Brading saw that she was a little stronger, he said: "I wish I
could explain all the mystery that surrounds the disappearance of Lady
Mary's letter and cheque. But this I may say: that whatever suspicion
I had of your son, and I admit that he has lain under this suspicion
for some little time, still his behaviour through this trying ordeal,
and something I heard from my man of business this morning, have
completely cleared his character in my estimation, so that you may
rest assured that I should be very sorry to part with him now. And I
can only hope that you will not deem it necessary to remove him just
yet, even if fortune should come to you. I have acted towards him as I
hope someone would act towards my own son if he were placed in similar
circumstances. Appearances were very much against him, and after my
second interview with Lady Mary, I feared that I should be compelled
to ask him to resign his situation. But on mature reflection, I deemed
that if this stigma was ever to be removed from him, he had better
remain where he was, and, however hard it might be for him, and myself
too, we must each bear our share of the discomfort. Arthur has borne
his bravely and well, although I can see it has been a very bitter
trial to him."
"Thank you! God bless you, Mr. Brading!" said Mrs. Murray, rising.
But she spoke in such a tremulous tone, and seemed altogether so weak,
that Mr. Brading replaced her in her seat, and, ringing his bell, he
said to the man who answered it: "Order my carriage to be ready in ten
minutes, and ask Mr. Murray to come to me at once."
"Now, Mrs. Murray, you must let your son take you home in the carriage,
for I am afraid this interview has been altogether too much fatigue for
you."
"I have not been out for two years," replied the lady. "But I have
made up my mind, since I have been here, to turn over a new leaf, if
it is not too late, for I might have done more than I have to help my
children."
Then Arthur came in, but was so amazed to see his mother sitting there
that for a moment he stood speechless. Then, going to her side, and
laying his hand protectingly on her shoulder, he said: "Oh, Mamma! What
is it? What have they been troubling you about?" And then, turning an
angry face to Mr. Brading, he said reproachfully: "I would rather you
had sent me to prison than drag my mother out here like this!"
"Arthur! Arthur! Mr. Brading had nothing to do with my coming here, and
he has been most kind and considerate!"
"There, there, we will have an explanation by and by, Mrs. Murray.
Compose yourself now, the carriage will be here in a minute."
And as he spoke, a messenger came to announce that it was at the door.
"Allow me to help you," he said, offering her his arm. "You drive back
with your mother, and see that she is comfortable and easy in her mind
before you return," said Mr. Brading.
He took Mrs. Murray by a private door and saw that she was comfortably
placed in the carriage, while Arthur dashed upstairs to fetch his hat,
scarcely knowing what he did in his haste, and the revulsion of feeling
since Mr. Brading had spoken.
"Mother, how was it you came down here?" asked Arthur, as soon as
they had driven off through the streets of the town. "Did you come by
yourself? Why did Annie and Molly let you do it?"
"My dear, Lady Mary came this morning and told me such a dreadful tale
of what you had been doing, that I don't think I quite knew what I was
about until I found myself in that shop asking for Mr. Brading. But I
wanted to know, Arthur, how much was true of Aunt Mary's story. I could
not believe it all, dear, but to have to believe any of it almost drove
me wild, and so I put on my bonnet and went out, and I don't think I
shall go back and stay in my room again, for I fancy if I had always
known about things, as I ought to have done, they would not have been
so bad, and so I mean to try and come downstairs in the day and go out
sometimes, now I have been able to take this long walk."
"This is good news, Mamma." For although to him, the walk from the
cottage to the town did not occupy ten minutes, it was undoubtedly a
long walk for Mrs. Murray.
The carriage drew up at the garden gate, and Arthur jumped out. But
before he could lift his mother to the ground, Molly had opened the
street door and was running down to meet them.
"Oh, Mamma! Where have you been?" she exclaimed.
"I can manage, dear, with Arthur's help," said Mrs. Murray, as Molly
put her arm round her mother's waist to help her along.
Arthur was proud to feel his mother leaning upon him.
"Oh, Mamma, dear, mind you don't fall," said Annie, who also joined
them before they came to the street door.
Mrs. Murray was very tired, and when the dining-room was reached, she
said she would stay there for the rest of the day.
"I mean to turn over a new leaf, if I can, and take my part in the
everyday life. I never thought I could do it, and so I never tried, but
Lady Mary has taught me that I can help myself, and I am not likely to
forget the lesson."
The sisters looked at each other and then at Arthur.
But after resting for a little while, Mrs. Murray ate a fairly-good
dinner, and her cats were induced to come to the dining-room for the
afternoon.
After waiting a little while to make sure that his mother was not
likely to suffer any ill effects from her adventure, Arthur went back
to the office in high spirits, and quite ready to forgive Lady Mary her
share in what had been done, for if it was the means of rousing his
mother to make some exertion, it would be worth all it cost. Even the
trouble over the missing letter Arthur would not grudge, if this was to
be the result.
The doctor had told them again and again that Mrs. Murray could walk
and take her part in the everyday life of the household. But she had
protested that she could not, until they thought the doctor must be
mistaken and that it was something more than mere nervousness that
ailed her.
By the time he got back to his desk, he had made up his mind that the
doctor was right after all, and that now they would have to let the
mother who had always been screened and protected from all care and
household worry take her share in the pleasures and duties of life once
more, and he resolved to take her out for a walk every evening.
But first he must thank Mr. Brading for his courtesy and kindness to
her, and so he went to his room and told that gentleman that his mother
seemed better, rather than worse, for her adventure.
"I beg your pardon, sir, for speaking as I did downstairs. But when I
saw my mother sitting there, and knew that only one thing could have
brought her out, I felt I could endure anything rather than she should
have come. For it is more than two years since she went out, except
when she was carried to the carriage that brought her to the cottage
from our old home."
Mr. Brading looked astonished. "You really mean she has been an invalid
for two years?" he said.
"She has not left her own sitting-room upstairs since she was carried
there," answered Arthur. "And we could not let her know for a long time
that I was trying to earn my own living for fear it should upset her,"
replied Arthur.
"But her mother-love conquered her weakness. Well, well, I have heard
of such cases before, and I hope this may be followed by a permanent
improvement. As to what you said, why, it was just what I should expect
under the circumstances. By the way, I saw Mr. Andrews this morning,
and from what he told me, I am pretty sure that you had nothing to do
with that missing letter. Whether Lady Mary's son tampered with it, is
another matter. Mr. Bristow told me what you heard from your cousin
last night, but whether any credence is to be attached to words spoken
when a man is in that condition, I should not like to judge. But so far
as you and I are concerned, the matter is at an end, and you had better
come home and see Jack to-morrow and tell him all about it. He knows
nothing at present except that he is forbidden to come to the shop
until I give him leave."
"Thank you, Mr. Brading." And Arthur and his master shook hands as a
token of the restored amity between them.
Arthur would have liked to run down and have a turn in the gymnasium,
by way of letting off some of the excited happiness that throbbed
through him, but he thought it would be better to have it out in work.
So, after a word or two with Mr. Bristow, he seated himself at his desk
once more.
He had not asked Mr. Brading what Mr. Andrews said. But in point
of fact, that gentleman showed the letter that he had received the
previous evening, with the exclamation, "A lad of such promise as that
is worth working for, and I mean to get the chestnuts out of the fire,
if I can!"
"But suppose you are mistaken in your estimate of this boy's
character?" objected Mr. Brading.
"But I am not mistaken. I have not managed things for the Murrays
without knowing them; and I have always said if they could only be
induced to work, instead of idling their life away, there would not be
much to complain of. Now, this lad has taken to work as a duck takes to
water, and I tell you it will be his salvation."
"But work is not everything, my friend."
"That's true enough. But I have had the lad watched to see if he is
following in the steps of his friend, Lady Mary's son, for they were
pretty close friends when they were younger, and Arthur has no one to
look after him but a couple of sisters about his own age. So I set a
watch upon that new billiard saloon that all the lads are going mad
over. Mind, I don't object to billiards as a game, if they would keep
the drink away from it. But there it is. The drink is there, and Lady
Mary's boy is tipsy five times a week at least. But Arthur Murray has
never been seen there. He seems to spend his evenings at home or in
taking a stroll occasionally. I have met him myself once or twice,
either alone or with one of his sisters."
"Well, I hope you may be right," said Mr. Brading. And then he told the
lawyer of the missing letter, and how Lady Mary suspected Arthur of
taking it.
"By the way, it was a cheque of yours for five pounds that she had
enclosed in the missing letter!"
"And you think this lad stole it?"
"So she supposes. You see, we have no direct evidence that the letter
ever came into our hands, but if it did, Murray would have to hand it
on to the department to which it was addressed."
The lawyer shook his head. "I don't believe Arthur touched it," he
said. "He has no evening expenses to meet, and he was perfectly frank
and open with me as to what you were to pay him. What I could afford
for household expenses I stated, and there was no margin left for
billiard saloons, and if he went there, some of my informants must have
seen him, for they have seen his cousin often enough!"
This conversation with a cautious man like Mr. Andrews pretty well
convinced Mr. Brading that, whoever the culprit might be, it was not
Arthur Murray, and what Mr. Bristow told him simply confirmed his
opinion. So, after the talk with Arthur, he resolved to end the affair
by writing to Lady Mary to say that he would bear the loss of the
money, and no more was to be said about it, as there did not seem to be
much chance of the thief ever being discovered.
Mr. Brading thought he had ended the matter when he wrote this letter,
but he reckoned without Lady Mary. She was still fuming and fretting
over what she had heard from Mr. Andrews about the money being ready
for her whenever her lawyer was ready to transact the necessary
business. And now to hear that Arthur was not to be dismissed from his
situation, made her boil with rage against the world in general and
Arthur in particular. And she handed the letter to Adrian when he came
in.
"Well, that's all right. You don't want any more than that, do you?" he
said, tossing it back across the table to his mother.
"Indeed I do!" she said. "I want those Murrays out of the way. What do
they want to stop here for, now the property is all wasted?"
"Oh, let the boy alone, and don't be a fool!" politely answered her
son, with a sleepy yawn.
"It is my business and not yours, and so don't you interfere!"
"Very well, do as you like; but if you begin to stir up that dirty
water again, I shall go to London and get out of it, though I did post
the letter, for I have heard enough about it, and don't mean to be
dragged into it again."
Lady Mary had heard this threat more than once lately, and so she only
smiled in a fashion that made Adrian feel pretty certain that she
intended to take some action that would necessitate his being called as
a witness.
And so, when the servant went to tell him Lady Mary wanted to speak to
him, she found his room strewn from end to end with clothes and boots
and slippers, but he had gone!
In point of fact, he was on his way to London, for he knew he would not
find it convenient to answer questions if too closely pressed. And so
he thought a visit to his uncle just now would be better for himself,
and for his mother too, if she could only think so—a truth she would
learn later on, he feared.
CHAPTER XIII
A SHOCK FOR MR. ANDREWS
A FEW days after Mrs. Murray's walk to Brading's stores, as Arthur was
on his way there in the morning, a respectable-looking man touched him
on the shoulder and said, rather sharply, "Your name is Arthur Murray,
I think?"
"Yes," answered Arthur, "but if you want to speak to me, I must ask you
to walk my way, for I am in a hurry this morning."
"Plenty of time, young man. You are going to Brading's, I suppose? But
they must wait, for you are my prisoner."
And as he spoke, he laid his hand upon Arthur's shoulder in a fashion
that was more energetic than pleasant.
"What do you mean?" demanded Arthur, stopping short and facing round to
the man.
"Oh, it's all regular! I have got the warrant here. It's for a cheque
and a letter."
"There must be some mistake about this!" And Arthur looked up into the
man's face so fearlessly and frankly that, instead of slipping the
handcuffs on him as he had intended, he said:
"Well, now, look here. You go with me to the station quietly, and I
dare say it can soon be put right, if you know you haven't handled it.
But if you try any monkey tricks with me, why, I've got the bracelets
here, and I'll soon have them on you."
"I give you my word of honour that, if you let me walk quietly by your
side, I will not attempt to run away. Why should I? I tell you I know
nothing of the cheque!"
"All right! And I tell you this, I hope you will be able to prove it,"
said the man in a more friendly tone.
And the two walked on together, the few people who passed them little
thinking that Arthur was a prisoner and the stranger a detective.
It was not a very long walk to the police station, and as soon as
Arthur reached it, the warrant for his arrest was read over to him, and
the inspector in charge asked him if he wished to send a message to his
friends.
"I should like to send a note to Mr. Andrews, the lawyer, to ask him to
come and see me, and also to Mr. Brading's, to tell them why I cannot
go there this morning. But I would rather not let my mother know what
has happened just yet."
Arthur spoke very calmly, but he had turned deathly pale while he
was speaking, for after all, it would not be so easy to prove his
innocence, he feared.
The inspector told him he could come to the desk and write the notes
himself, and a messenger should take them at once, and possibly the
lawyer might be able to see him before the magistrate arrived, who
would hear the case about twelve o'clock.
So Arthur wrote to the lawyer, stating what had happened, and at the
same time, saying he knew nothing of the cheque. He wrote the other
note to Mr. Bristow, saying he had been arrested and had sent for Mr.
Andrews. Of course, this gentleman knew all about the affair, but was
none the less astonished at the turn the business had taken.
"That Lady Mary has let her temper blind her!" he exclaimed half-aloud,
as he commenced Arthur's task of sorting the letters.
When Mr. Andrews received Arthur's note, which was placed on the table
of his own private room in the office, he was dumfoundered. He had
heard from Mr. Brading something about a letter being lost, but he
had not thought much of it. And to hear that the lad in whom he had
begun to take so deep an interest had been arrested for the theft, was
something so unexpected, so bewildering, that at first he could only
sit and stare at Arthur's note, and wonder what his first step in the
matter ought to be.
At last he sprang to his feet. "I shall know in a moment whether the
lad is guilty or innocent," he said half-aloud. "It will be time enough
to think what I shall do after I have seen him." And leaving word with
Phillips in the outer office, as he passed through, that he should be
back in an hour, he walked quickly to the police station.
"Good-morning, Rawlins! I hear you have Mr. Arthur Murray here. What
idiot has done this?"
"You can see the warrant, sir," answered the inspector.
"I'll see that afterwards. I want you to let me see your prisoner here,
in the full light of day."
"All right, sir! I will send for him from the cells."
And in a minute or two, Arthur came into the room, but he was looking
so pale and woebegone that for a moment the old man's heart almost died
within him, until Arthur lifted his eyes and looked straight into the
old man's fearlessly and frankly.
Then Mr. Andrews stepped forward and grasped his hand.
"This is a nice kettle of fish!" he said cheerily.
"I don't want my mother to know, Mr. Andrews," said Arthur anxiously.
"Have you heard that she is getting better, and able to come downstairs
every day?"
"Glad to hear it," said Mr. Andrews, somewhat indifferently, for he had
no great liking for Mrs. Murray. "The thing we have to consider is, how
we are to get you out of this ugly business. Now tell me all you know
about it. Mind, every bit! No keeping anything back!"
And Mr. Andrews led the way to the farther end of the room, where they
could discuss the matter without being overheard by anybody.
Arthur related the story of the missing letter once more, and then told
the lawyer what had happened the evening they had met, and what Adrian
had said by way of accusation, and also that he had disposed of the
cheque.
"You mean to say that he took the cheque out of the letter, and then
sent it on empty?" demanded Mr. Andrews.
"He didn't say so," answered Arthur. "What he said, as nearly as I can
remember, was this: 'If I had the cheque, you had the letter!' But no
letter came to us, so far as we can discover."
While he was speaking, Mr. Brading came into the room, and Mr. Andrews
went to meet him.
"This is a nice state of things," said the lawyer, in a tone of
vexation.
"I can assure you, I have had no hand in it," said Mr. Brading. "I
would willingly give fifty pounds to have the matter satisfactorily
cleared up, and I wrote a few days ago to Lady Mary Murray and told her
I would bear the loss of the money, although I did not believe that the
letter had ever reached us. Still, rather than have any more annoyance
over the matter, I intended to let it drop and be forgotten, unless
some further development in the future made it necessary to enquire
further."
Mr. Brading sighed as he thought of all the worry and vexation this had
already cost him, but he walked over and shook hands with Arthur. "You
must keep up your courage, you know," he said heartily. "Circumstances
may seem to be against you, but we shall get at the truth some day. By
the way, it was a cheque Lady Mary received from you that was stolen!"
suddenly exclaimed Mr. Brading. "Lady Mary told me all about it the
last time she called. She says she could not find her own cheque-book
just when she wanted it, and having received a cheque from you for five
pounds, she endorsed it, enclosed it in the letter she had written, and
gave it to her son to post!"
"Was there ever such a fool!" exclaimed the lawyer. "Why, she must
know that her lad has been the town talk for months! Ever since that
new billiard saloon has opened its doors, he has haunted the place.
Morning, noon, and night, I am told, he might be seen there. Don't you
think she must have known it? Where did she suppose he spent his time?"
exclaimed the lawyer, in an exasperated tone.
"Well, it might be worse," said Mr. Brading. "For, being your cheque,
there will be the less difficulty in tracing it," he continued
soothingly.
So it was arranged that when Arthur was brought before the magistrate,
he should be asked to adjourn the case until the next day and accept
bail for Arthur, that he might be released at once.
This arrangement they were fortunately able to carry out, so that at
dinner-time Arthur was on his way home, having made arrangements with
Mr. Andrews to be at his office by three o'clock that afternoon.
Molly was helping Alice, the maid, to set the dinner-table when he
arrived, and as she saw him going to the door she ran and opened it.
"Whatever is the matter, Arthur? Are you ill? Have you got the
headache?" asked Molly, without waiting for one question to be answered
before another was asked.
"I don't feel very well, and so I have come home to dinner," answered
Arthur, with a smile at his sister's curiosity.
"But that isn't all," she answered quickly. "You need not think you can
deceive me, Mr. Arthur," she whispered. "I know there is something the
matter, but I won't tell."
This was said because Mrs. Murray and Annie were coming downstairs, and
the next minute they came into the room.
"You had better lie down and have a sleep for an hour," said Mrs.
Murray, looking across at Arthur.
"I have to call at Mr. Andrews' office at three o'clock," said Arthur.
"Did you meet him again?" asked Molly.
But Arthur was giving all his attention to his mother just now, and
would not hear what Molly was saying, until she insisted upon his
giving his opinion upon a question she had to propose.
"Arthur, don't you remember what we used to say when we were little
children about finding a thing giving the right to keep it?"
"Oh, never mind about that now!" said Arthur. "If you have found that
sixpence I lost upstairs last night, you may keep it."
"But suppose somebody else found it?" proposed Molly.
"Oh well, if Alice found it, she may keep it!" said Arthur in a weary
tone.
"Molly, do let him have a little peace," put in Annie. "You can see
he looks tired. Have your dinner, Arthur, and go and lie down until a
quarter to three; that will give you time to reach Mr. Andrews' office
by three o'clock."
And Annie took care to serve her brother first.
Arthur was glad to take the hint and have a quiet hour in his own room.
At three o'clock he was at Mr. Andrews' place of business, and was
about to pass quickly through the outer office, as there were several
people sitting on the bench waiting, when the senior clerk, Phillips,
stopped him.
"Wait one minute, Mr. Arthur," he said. "The governor has something
to finish for the next post, and he asked me to detain you here for
a moment until his bell was rung. Do you know any of those people?"
whispered Phillips, glancing in the direction of the bench. "Look round
in a minute, as though you were looking at the picture on the wall
opposite," said the old clerk.
Arthur looked round for a minute at the picture, and then glanced
at the strangers on the bench. But before he could speak again to
Phillips, Mr. Andrews' bell rang, and the clerk stepped forward to
fetch the letter and announce the arrival of Arthur.
The lawyer's question, when Arthur went into the room, somewhat
startled him. "Do you know any of the people out there?" he asked.
"No, I never saw them that I know of," answered Arthur.
"Very well, sit down here, at the end of the table, for a minute," said
the gentleman.
And he pointed to a chair in which, as he sat, the light of a broad
bay-window fell full upon his face.
Then Mr. Andrews touched his bell again, and one of the strangers
walked in.
"Will you tell me where you saw this gentleman last?" asked the lawyer.
"I never saw him until to-day," answered the young woman promptly.
"But I thought you told the police that you changed a cheque for Mr.
Murray a week or two ago?" said the lawyer.
"Yes, sir! But this is not the Mr. Murray I meant. The one that came
into our shop, and got a post office order for three pounds, and gave
me one of your cheques, was much shorter and thinner—quite a little
man! I changed the cheque at the stationery counter, and then gave him
the post office order."
"What is that about a post office order?" almost roared Mr. Andrews.
"You never said a word about the post office order before!"
"No, sir, I forgot it," said the young woman meekly. "The policeman
flurried me so with the lot of questions he asked, but Father said I
must remember to tell you everything this time."
"I should think so indeed," commented Mr. Andrews. "Then you do not
know this gentleman?"
"No, sir, I don't think I ever saw him before."
"Thank you, that will do! Mr. Phillips will tell you what to do
to-morrow. Good afternoon, Miss Sims! Be sure you get to the court in
good time."
"Yes, sir," answered the meek-voiced woman. And then she went, and
closed the door behind her.
The next minute a young man came in, and he was asked if he knew Arthur.
"Never set eyes on the gent before," replied the young fellow briskly.
"He don't look the sort that comes to our market. Our Mr. Murray was
a little, weazel-like chap. Thought he knew a thing or two more than
most of us, and we let him think so, as it paid the saloon well to. No,
bless you, he isn't a bit like our Mr. Murray," concluded the young
fellow.
"Thank you!" put in Mr. Andrews at this point, for, having got the
evidence he wanted for the next day's examination, he did not wish to
waste his time on gossip.
Then another man came in, and the moment he began to speak, Arthur
recognized the voice of the cabman who had taken his cousin home the
night the roughs were robbing him, and who afterwards took Arthur back
to the town instead of driving the cab there empty. And this he was
prepared to explain to the lawyer first, and to the magistrate the next
day, if it was necessary.
But while Mr. Andrews was questioning this man, Phillips knocked at the
door, and with a whispered word to his master gave him a note.
"It's from Simmons' people, and they want to withdraw the case against
Mr. Arthur Murray."
"What? After having him arrested like a thief in the open street? Do
they suppose we are going to stop the case to please them? No, no! My
lady has insisted upon having this affair fully investigated, and so
do I now. If she had not stirred in it, we should not. But the inquiry
must go on now. Simmons' people may tell the magistrate they want to
withdraw the case, but I shall insist upon my witnesses being heard
before it is done. Charges have been made against my client here, and
now I am fully prepared to disprove them, and clear his character once
and for all; and nothing shall prevent me from doing it either!" added
the lawyer in a determined tone.
"That's only fair and just," commented the cabman. "We can't none of us
afford to lose our characters," he added, with a nod at Arthur.
"No; this lad needs a good character to be his mainstay through life as
much as you or I do, and I mean to defend it," said the lawyer.
There was a little more talk, and then the cabman was dismissed with a
word of advice as to the time he should be at the court the next day.
As the door closed, Mr. Andrews grasped the lad's hand. "It is plain
sailing now, my lad," he said. "You can go home and tell your mother
all about it without the least fear of what will happen to-morrow."
"But there is the post office order to account for. You remember the
young woman said that Cousin Ted changed the cheque for five pounds,
and then had a post office order for three pounds!"
"To be sure she did," answered Mr. Andrews. "But that point can rest
for the present. You are charged, not with stealing a post office
order, but a particular cheque for five pounds. I shall, of course,
bring forward this point, but it will not affect our case. We can prove
your innocence of the charge made against you, and that will be enough
for the present."
CHAPTER XIV
TURNING THE TABLES
ARTHUR went to the police court in good time the next morning, hoping
to be able to talk to Mr. Andrews before he was called to stand before
the magistrate. He was not satisfied with the lawyer's suggestion that
nothing should be said about the post office order and missing letter.
While the matter was about, he wanted the whole of it cleared up, if
such a thing was possible.
But he found that Mr. Andrews was engaged in talking the affair over
with Lady Mary's solicitor, for nothing less than an entire withdrawal
of the charge against Arthur, and an ample apology for having made the
charge, would satisfy Mr. Andrews.
At length Arthur managed to gain admission to the room where the
lawyer's conference was being held.
"Good-morning, my lad!" said his friend, turning his heated face to
meet him. He had just got his opponent to agree to his demands, and was
flushed with the sense of victory over a keener man than himself.
"It's all right, Mr. Murray," he said in a whisper. "The proceedings
will be very formal to-day. Mr. Simmons is well enough to come and see
to things himself, and we shall soon have it over."
"But I hope you will speak about the missing letter and post office
order. Let us get it all cleared up while we are about it. You know,
Adrian said, 'If he had the cheque, I had the letter', and that was
what he must have meant—that I had stolen the post office order for
three pounds, while he had only two out of the cheque. He may have
thought he had a right to take that, as he wanted it and it was his
mother's money," said Arthur, by way of excuse for his cousin.
"Well, that may be so, but it does not excuse Lady Mary from charging
you with stealing the cheque. I will mention the postal order, and
clear your character while we are about it."
So when Arthur was called to stand in the dock once more, it was only
to hear Mr. Simmons state that by desire of Lady Mary, he wished to
withdraw the charge and all imputation upon the character of Mr.
Murray, and also to offer an apology for the distress and inconvenience
he had suffered through this charge being made against him.
Then Mr. Andrews had a word to say. In accepting the apology, and
consenting to the withdrawal without calling his witnesses, who could
prove Mr. Murray's innocence of all complicity in this theft, he had to
say that the matter was not wholly cleared up, as the letter containing
the post office order was still unaccounted for. But it was reasonable
to suppose that the person who took the cheque, and bought the post
office order for three pounds, afterwards repented this step, and
deciding that he had a right to the use of all the money, did not post
the letter as he had stated, but converted it to his own use, as they
knew now that he owed several debts in the town.
"Of course the post office order can be traced, and we shall endeavour
to find out who changed it, if it has been changed, but it will not be
found that Mr. Arthur Murray had anything to do with it," concluded the
lawyer.
This was the way in which Mr. Andrews turned the tables on Lady Mary,
for the magistrate admitted in his speech that nothing was more likely
than that the suggestion Mr. Andrews had made was the true solution of
the mystery concerning the disappearance of the letter. He then assured
Arthur that he left the court without the slightest stain upon his
character, and congratulated him on being able to prove his innocence
of all share in the theft.
No names were mentioned, and Mr. Simmons could not say a word against
the letter being spoken of, but it annoyed him exceedingly, for he had
seen Lady Mary, and she had expressed her opinion that Arthur could
still be charged with stealing the letter and post office order. She
was not in court, or she might have made the charge there and then,
and declared, what in truth her blind prejudice had made her believe,
that Arthur had prompted her son to cash the cheque, and had shared in
the proceeds of both cheque and post office order, quite ignoring the
fact that a post office order must be signed by the receiver of the
money. She would never have believed that her darling had touched it,
if she had not received a telegram from her brother, more incisive than
polite, telling her not to be a fool and stir up dirty water, before
she received a letter from him.
If this telegram had reached her ladyship a few hours earlier, Arthur
would not have been arrested, but by the time Mr. Simmons received it,
Arthur was in the cells, and Mr. Andrews was hunting up the necessary
evidence to prove his innocence, which so seriously compromised Adrian.
The fact was, when Adrian rushed off to London to get out of the way,
he found that his uncle asked so many questions as to the reason for
his sudden arrival that he had to make a clean breast of the whole
matter, and admit that he had cashed the cheque to pay a debt for which
he was being pressed. Upon hearing this, Lord Lismore telegraphed to
his sister, and wrote, saying that the culprit was Adrian himself, but
that she was to blame for keeping the lad idling at home when he ought
to be preparing himself for some useful life.
"It will never do for him to come back to that place, where he seems
by his own account to have got into bad company, but you must spend
a little of the money upon him now, that you have been hoarding. It
is all very well to try and leave the lad a fortune, but you would be
showing him more true kindness, if you spent something in helping him
to make his own, or at least putting him in the way of earning his
living decently as honourable men do. The best thing you can do for
the lad is to let him go into the army. He says he would like that
better than anything else, and so it would be better to send him to an
establishment where they prepare young men for passing the necessary
examinations."
"Of course you will have to spend some money, but you may as well
do it in making him a useful man as let him waste it in loafing
around billiard saloons, which seems to be all he has done lately."
Lady Mary went almost frantic as she read this letter, but she knew
that what her brother said was true, and that she would have to give
up what had of late years become the dream of her life, and let Arthur
Murray succeed to his inheritance just when it was likely to become
profitable.
The letter she received from Mr. Simmons made her the more willing to
do this, for how could she prove that Adrian did not appropriate the
whole of the proceeds of the cheque for his own use. One thing was
certain, he could never show his face in Fairmead again, now that this
had all been made public. And so she wrote to her brother, asking him
to make the necessary arrangements for Adrian to be placed under the
care of a suitable instructor to fit him for entering the army.
This was a fortunate thing for the lad, or he would inevitably have
drifted from bad to worse, and from robbing his mother, he might have
proceeded to rob others, and thus have entered upon a career of crime
instead of having the chance to live a useful life.
Mr. Andrews was soon informed that the necessary deeds and securities
would be handed over to him by Mr. Simmons at an early date, and the
money he held to redeem them would be accepted by Lady Mary without
further dispute.
The lawyer smiled at this, but he was willing to let it pass without
comment, for he had little doubt that it had cost Lady Mary a good deal
of pain to give up her plans for gaining all the Murray estate.
When Lady Mary wrote to her son, it was a reproachful letter, and
accused him of robbing her of the whole cheque, but to this he
quickly sent a reply, saying that he certainly did post the letter to
Brading's, and that Arthur certainly must have had this post office
order.
About the time when Lady Mary got this letter from Adrian, Mrs.
Murray's little servant came to the dining-room one evening with a
request. "Please, Miss Molly, my cousin has come to see me," she
announced; "can I ask her into the kitchen for a bit?"
"Oh, certainly!" answered Molly.
And being of a curious turn of mind, she thought she would go into the
kitchen about an hour later and see what sort of a person this cousin
was.
She saw a girl about Alice's own age sitting at the kitchen table, and
the girls had some dirty-looking papers spread out before them.
"Let me tell Miss Molly all about it," whispered Alice as she went into
the room.
Molly could not help overhearing what was said, and, stopping at the
table, she said: "Is it something you want to ask me, Alice?"
The cousin nodded, but seemed shy of speaking, and so she nudged Alice
and nodded by way of telling her to explain matters.
"My cousin here has found a big lump of money," said Alice, plunging at
once into the tale. "It's such a big lump that she don't know what to
do with it, and so she has come to show it to me and ask me about it."
"Is it in bank-notes?" asked Molly, as she saw how carefully the
stranger kept the papers before her covered with her hands.
Alice shook her head dubiously. "They're paper, sure enough," she said,
"or Hester wouldn't have found them."
"'Tain't often any of us get such a slice of luck as this," commenced
the stranger, "though I has tons of paper through my hands every week."
Molly grew more curious. "Where did you find this treasure trove?" she
asked.
But the girl shook her head. She did not understand what was said.
"There's only one place I could find it—at the mill," she said.
"My cousin is a paper girl, Miss Molly. She is one of the sorters at
Robinson's mill, and it was among the waste that she found this."
"It was a fair find," the stranger hastened to explain.
"Yes, ma'am, Hester wouldn't be doing no shabby tricks to get hold of
it," commented Alice.
"Yes, it's just as fair as can be, and I don't mean to be done out
of it. The forewoman might think she ought to have her share, if she
knowed what I'd got, so I just put it in my pocket and brought it up to
ask Alice about it."
"Of course, if you could find the owner, you would take it to him?"
said Molly.
The girl opened her eyes. Evidently she had never thought of doing
that, and her eyes fell when Molly said that this was the only right
and straightforward thing she could do.
"What would he give me for it?" asked the girl.
"I really cannot say," replied Molly.
"We always used to say findings keepings," said Alice, as though this
was the law that might be expected to apply to the case they were
discussing.
But Molly shook her head. "That would not be honest," she remarked,
"and I am sure you are not a dishonest girl."
"No, ma'am, but I don't want to be cheated out of my fair find."
"Of course not! What you want to do is to find out who the rightful
owner is, and hand it to him. You know it may have caused a great deal
of trouble to somebody, the loss of this money, I mean, and so if we
could find out who ought to have it, I am sure they would give you
something for it."
As Molly was speaking, the girl slowly withdrew her hands, and pushed
the dirty-looking papers towards her. "Perhaps you can find out what I
ought to do with them," she said rather sullenly.
Molly started, and an eager look came into her face the moment her eyes
fell upon the soiled envelope, for she recognized at once the coronet
used by Lady Mary on all her stationery. She almost seized the papers
as the girl pushed them towards her. There could be no doubt that this
was the missing letter. The address on the envelope and the note inside
were in her aunt's handwriting, and there was a post office order in it
for three pounds.
She almost trembled with excitement as she held these in her fingers,
but she had to keep calm and reserved before the girls, and so she
carefully looked at all the papers before she ventured to speak, for
fear she should betray her anxiety by the tremor in her voice.
At last she said, "I can tell you now exactly what you must do with
this letter and the post office order inside. They were sent by a lady
to the tailoring department of Brading's, the large stores in the
London Road. You must take it there and tell them where you found it."
But the girl shook her head. "'Tain't likely they'll believe me;
they'll just say I stole it."
"No, no; you do not look like a girl who would steal," said Molly.
And this was true, although if she had committed the theft, she could
scarcely look more frightened than she did at Molly's proposal.
"I wouldn't mind you taking 'em, miss. You'd know what to say to 'em,
but I ain't used to talking to gents."
Molly was puzzled, but she kept the papers in her hand, and at last she
thought of a way out of the difficulty.
[Illustration: THERE COULD BE NO DOUBT THAT
THIS WAS THE MISSING LETTER.]
"I will go with you if you like," she said. "Could you go in the dinner
hour to-morrow, if I met you at the corner of the London Road?"
"Yes, you could, Hester," said Alice, who rather envied her cousin
the honour of walking into a big shop like Brading's with Miss Molly.
"You could do it fine, Hester," urged Alice. "The mill is close to the
London Road, and you could be at Brading's corner by five minutes after
twelve."
"You meet me there at five minutes past twelve and I will take care
nobody hurts you. And when you leave the mill in the afternoon, you
shall come here to tea with Alice, and I will give you some nice hot
cakes that Alice shall bake ready for you."
Tea with Alice, and hot cakes, was too tempting to be resisted, and
Hester nodded her acceptance of the invitation, and then said: "I'll be
at Brading's, and you take care of them papers, and bring 'em to-morrow
when you come."
Molly breathed a sigh of relief that she would not have to part with
the precious documents as she said, "Very well, I will take care of
them, and I feel sure the people at Brading's will give you something
for taking them back."
"Yes, perhaps they will if you go with me, but I shouldn't have much of
a show there if I went by myself."
Molly laughed. "I think you would find it all right," she said; "I am
sure it will be, in fact."
And then she bade the girl good-night and went off with her prize to
find Arthur and tell him what she had discovered.
But when she reached the dining-room, she found that Mr. Andrews had
just come in.
Arthur had been out, and, meeting the old gentleman not far from the
gate, had brought him in to see his mother.
The lawyer congratulated her upon her restoration to health and being
able to join the family circle once more.
And Mrs. Murray, who had always carefully avoided meeting Mr. Andrews,
was quite suave and pleasant in her greeting, for she had begun to
understand the condition of affairs now, and was willing to fall in
with the arrangements by which Arthur's inheritance would become a
valuable property.
"You will have to be careful and thrifty for a year or two to come,"
said Mr. Andrews, "for although I have managed to pull the chestnut out
of the fire for you, still there will be no ready money for you yet.
You see, I have had to sell one or two parcels of land fairly cheap to
get a little ready money, for cash down was what I needed. Then I have
had to borrow on other securities, and the bank has lent me some, so
that I have been able to pay Lady Mary the last penny we owed her this
morning, and all the debts and securities are safe in my hands once
more."
The old man spoke as triumphantly as though he had just won back the
crown jewels, and he looked as fondly at Arthur as though he was the
young king who would wear them. "I should never have taken all the
trouble I have, if I had not found out that you were a lad with a
little grit and common sense, and would not be likely to let things
drift down to the dogs again."
"Thank you, Mr. Andrews!" said Mrs. Murray. "You have been a friend
indeed to all of us, and I am sure the least we can do is to be guided
by your advice for the future. Arthur is young yet, and I am afraid I
have not had much experience of the ways of the world, so that we need
a disinterested friend like you at our back."
"Well, well, we shall see, as time goes on and things unfold, what we
had better do. For the present, Arthur cannot do better than stay where
he is. Afterwards, perhaps it would be best for him to be articled to
an architect and land-surveyor, that he may learn to make the best of
the land when it comes into his possession. It will take some time and
money to make it as profitable as I believe it can be made, and so, for
the present, you must all be content to live here as economically as
you can."
It was not very pleasant advice for the old man to give or for the lady
to receive, for Mrs. Murray, who had lived in luxury all her life, had
begun to hope that they might leave the cottage and move to a larger
house very soon, and Mr. Andrews' words had rudely dashed all her hopes
at once. But she was beginning to learn the lesson of life, that the
gratification of a momentary whim or pleasure might be purchased at
the cost of future peace and comfort, and so she again promised to be
guided by the lawyer's advice.
When he rose to leave, he went away feeling sure that his labour had
not been in vain this time.
When Mr. Andrews had gone, Molly managed to drag her brother aside.
"Guess what I have got here," she whispered, touching her pocket.
Arthur made one or two guesses, but Molly was too impatient to tell her
wonderful news to let him make many attempts. "I have got the missing
letter," she whispered, "and it has a post office order in it. That was
what Adrian meant when we met him and he said, 'If he had the cheque
you had the letter,' which, of course, had more money in it than he had
taken."
"Yes, we heard the other day that there was a post office order in
the letter, or, at least, that he had bought one when he changed the
cheque. It came out when I was arrested, but, as Mamma was only to be
told that I had been arrested and released again, we did not think it
worth while to tell you all the particulars."
"Naughty boy!" said Molly, shaking her finger at him. "Didn't we agree
a little while ago that we would tell each other everything?" she added
in a mock offended tone.
"Well, if I don't tell you, you manage to find out," answered Arthur.
"But now, tell me how you have discovered what has puzzled us all so
long. Where did you find the missing letter?"
"In our kitchen," answered Molly laughing.
And after her brother had puzzled over this reply for a minute or two,
she said: "We gave Alice leave to have her cousin here this evening,
and when I went out there to see they were not in mischief, Alice asked
my advice for her cousin. She works at some paper-mill. It seems they
have a great deal of waste-paper which they use up for something. And
they employ girls to sort it, and this girl found a letter that had not
been opened. But the post office order seems to have puzzled her, and
she was so afraid that her fellow-workpeople might cheat her, that she
brought it up to Alice to ask her advice, and Alice asked me."
"And what do you propose to do about it, Miss Moll? It is evidently a
woman's question, or a girl's question, now."
"Yes, it is, and I am going to manage it my own way, and so you need
not have anything to do with it unless you like."
"Thank you!" said Arthur mockingly.
"I am to meet this girl, Hester Piper, to-morrow about twelve o'clock
near Brading's stores, and then I am going in with her, but she is to
carry the letter, and when I have found Mr. Langley, she is to give him
the letter and tell him where she found it."
"Capital!" said Arthur. "I could not do it much better myself."
"Well, now, I hope Mr. Langley won't be mean to the poor girl. I hope
he will give her something for bringing it back; I have told her he
would be sure to do this, so I hope he won't disappoint her."
"All right, Molly! I am sure they would not mind giving up all the
money for the sake of having the affair satisfactorily cleared up.
And I am glad, for Adrian's sake, that it has been found, not that it
will make much difference to him now, for Fairmead has made up its
mind that he is a bad lot, and I am glad he is not coming back to hear
what people are saying about him. I had a letter from him this morning
telling me about his life at the crammer's. He is very comfortable, he
says, and is delighted at the idea of being a soldier. I shall write
and tell him the letter was found at the paper-mill, and I know he will
be glad, for he would not have been a bad fellow if Lady Mary had only
known how to manage him."
The brother and sister agreed to keep the secret to themselves for the
present and see what happened on the morrow.
True to her promise, Molly found Hester waiting at the corner the next
day, dressed in a cotton overall and a shawl over her head, which was
the costume most of the mill-girls patronized for working purposes. And
having delivered the dirty but precious missive to her charge, Molly
took her hand and the two girls walked into the handsome shop and asked
to be directed to the tailoring department by a waiting messenger near
the door.
They looked a strange pair of customers for the tailoring department
as the messenger escorted them through the long shop. When Mr. Brading
caught sight of them, he hurried on to be near at hand when they
arrived at Mr. Langley's department, for Arthur had not kept the secret
from either Mr. Brading or Mr. Bristow, and both were anxious to see
whether the little mill-girl would turn up, and Mr. Brading was very
glad when he saw them.
"This is Mr. Langley," said the messenger when he had convoyed
the girls to the tailor's shop, and immediately Hester placed her
grimy-looking missive on the counter and said, "Please, sir, is that
letter for you?"
The manager took it up and looked at it before opening it, and then
exclaimed rather sharply, "Where did you get this from?"
"It was in the waste at the mill. I work at Robinson's, and that was in
the waste-paper which I have to sort," explained Hester.
And then Molly told him that Hester had brought it to their servant for
advice as to what should be done with it.
"And you are Miss Molly Murray, I think," said another gentleman
who had just joined Mr. Langley. "You see, you were not altogether
unexpected," he said, smiling. Then, turning to Hester, he said, "Now,
if I give you a sovereign for this piece of paper," holding up the post
office order, "do you think that will do?"
"Oh yes, sir! And Miss Molly is going to give me my tea and hot cakes,"
said Hester, quite overcome at her good fortune, as Mr. Brading gave
her the sovereign out of his own purse.
And then he wished Molly good-morning, and the two girls left the shop.
"How could it have got to the mill?" exclaimed Mr. Langley after they
were gone.
"From the waste-paper basket," said Mr. Brading. "I don't think the
letter ever came downstairs. Murray told us this morning that it had
been found, and then remembered that one morning after the letters
had been sorted, they came to fetch the waste-paper basket instead of
getting it early as it should have been. There was an unusually heavy
mail too that day, so that it must have slipped off the table without
being noticed."
"Well, I am thankful it is found; it quite clears Mr. Murray's
character," observed the manager.
"Yes, it does; not that it was necessary so far as I am concerned,"
said Mr. Brading. "The lad has earned a character since he has been
here for straightforward honesty and truthfulness in word and deed.
But still it is satisfactory to be able to prove it to all the world,
for this is an inheritance that none can take from him, and, by the
proof he has given of possessing these qualities, I am glad to know
that he has regained his inheritance which his ancestors had well-nigh
squandered in idle extravagance."
THE END.
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