DICK'S FIRST DAY IN ENGLAND
IT was a perfect evening towards the end of June, as Miss Warren sat
at the sitting-room window of her brother's house at Holton,
anxiously looking down the village street. Her busy fingers were
employed in knitting a scarlet sock—one of a pair intended for the
little great-nephew she was expecting that day. It was a favourite
boast of Miss Warren's that she never allowed herself to be driven
by time; so, when she had heard that Dick Gidley was really coming,
she had immediately commenced to make preparations for his arrival,
and had begun to knit socks for him at once.
"I do hope they'll fit," she thought. "I expect they will, for he's
not likely to be bigger than most boys of his age. Poor little
fellow! How he must have felt the parting with his parents!—and I
know it must almost have broken his mother's heart! She was always
of such an affectionate disposition!—Half-past five, I declare!
I hope nothing has gone wrong!—Dear me; how foolish I am! The
trains on this line are often late, and Theophilus never drives
fast!"
Miss Warren was a little woman with a brisk manner, and a round face
blooming with health and good-humour. Her trim figure was neatly
attired in a grey alpaca gown, fastened at the throat with a big
brooch which contained two twists of hair—her mother's and
father's—whilst, depending from her neck, she wore a fine long gold
chain, to which was attached the watch in her waist-belt.
Presently she laid down her knitting, and, rising from her seat,
ventured to put her head outside the open window to get a better view
of the street. No one was within sight, and not a sound was to be
heard but the gentle murmur of the sea.
"Every one is having tea, I suppose," Miss Warren reflected. "Dear
me; I hope they will come soon! I have not felt so excited for
years!"
The preceding day her brother had gone to London to meet little Dick;
and this morning she had received a telegram from him, saying the
vessel had arrived, and she might expect him and her nephew by the
train reaching Holton about five o'clock in the afternoon. She had
sent the doctor's gig to the station, had seen that a substantial
meal was set in readiness for the travellers, and now she was
literally on the tiptoe of expectation, her ears strained in hopes
of catching the sounds of carriage-wheels, her bright dark eyes,
which had smiled on the world for fifty years, and were no dimmer
on that account, peering down the narrow village street.
At last she pulled her head in quickly, and, hastening to the front
door, opened it wide and took her position on the doorstep just as
the doctor's gig appeared in sight. Her brother was driving, and by
his side was a little, pale-faced, brown-eyed boy, to whom he was
evidently pointing out certain objects of interest, as Firefly,
the stout cob, proceeded leisurely homewards.
"How slowly Theophilus drives!" Miss Warren exclaimed. "And that poor
child must be so weary, too! How white he looks! Oh, Theophilus, here
you are at last!"
The gig drew up, and the doctor proceeded to alight. He gave the
reins to the groom—who had walked from the station, and had covered
the ground as fast as Firefly on account of the road being all
uphill—and then lifted down the little stranger.
"Welcome to your new home," he said, as he set Dick on the doorstep.
"This lady, my boy, is your Aunt Mary Ann!"
"Who is more glad than she can express to see you!" Miss Warren cried
heartily, as she kissed Dick and led him into the house. "Come into
the sitting-room and let me look at you. Dear me, what white cheeks!
Never mind, you'll soon grow rosy at Holton! Ah, I see a look of your
dear mother in your face!"
"Do you?" Dick said, his countenance glowing with pleasure. He had
been feeling very low-spirited, for in saying good-bye to Colonel and
Mrs. Blair, under whose kind care he had travelled to England, it had
seemed as though he was severing the last tie between the old life
and the new; but he could not help brightening at being told he was
like his mother.
"Yes," Miss Warren nodded, "especially when you smile. I shall write
and tell her so. Oh, my dear boy, I'm so glad to see you! Your uncle
and I are pleased and proud that you are going to make your home
with us! To-morrow you and I will have a nice long chat together,
and I will tell you about your mother when she was a little girl.
You will like to hear that, I am sure!"
"Oh, yes," Dick answered earnestly, "indeed I shall!"
"I expect you are very tired, are you not, and hungry, too?"
"A little tired," he acknowledged, "but not very hungry."
"Oh, you may not think so, but I am sure you must be! Come with me,
and I will show you your own room; it is close to mine."
Dick followed Miss Warren upstairs into a small bedroom, which,
she informed him, had once been his mother's. He was pleased to hear
that, and looked at his companion with grateful eyes, whereupon she
impulsively kissed him again, for his mother's sake this time,
she said.
Drawing him to the window, which looked upon an old-fashioned garden
where vegetables and flowers both grew in profusion, she pointed out
what a fine view was to be seen. The country Was very beautiful, and
Dick uttered an exclamation of admiration as his eyes rested on green
meadows, woods in the luxuriant leafage of June, and a glimpse of
blue sea on which several small vessels were sailing.
"What brown sails those ships have," he remarked. "I never saw sails
that colour before!"
"They are trawlers—fishing-boats. The sails are always that rich,
red-brown shade. You are fond of the sea, my dear?"
"Very fond of it, Aunt Mary Ann. I am glad Holton is by the sea."
"I hope you will be very happy here, Dick; we shall try to make you
so. Ah, here's your uncle! Well, Theophilus?"
"Dick's luggage will be brought from the station on a hand truck,
by-and-by," the doctor remarked. "You can come to my room and use my
brush and comb, if you like, Dick."
Dick followed his uncle, whilst Miss Warren went downstairs and rang
for tea. Presently the others joined her, and they sat down at the
table.
Dick noticed that Aunt Mary Ann did most of the talking, whilst Uncle
Theophilus sat by and listened, only now and then putting in a word.
Uncle Theophilus was a big man, as slow in manner as in speech. He
was some years his sister's senior, and looked more than his age.
There was something remarkably attractive in his grave, clean-shaven
face, and the smile which occasionally lit up his grey eyes was
peculiarly gentle and sweet. When the little boy had slipped his
fingers into the doctor's large hand that morning, he had felt
instinctively, with youth's quick perception, that he had found a
friend; and during the journey from London to Holton, though they had
not talked much, Dick had been strengthened in his first impression
that Uncle Theophilus was a person to be trusted.
Miss Warren was much distressed to find that Dick had a very poor
appetite; and was loud in her exclamations of disappointment because
he appeared incapable of appreciating the many good things before
him.
"A little more ham, Dick?—No! Then have some cake?—No! Some bread
and butter?—No, again! Why, you have not had enough to satisfy a
robin!" she exclaimed, when Dick politely but firmly declined to eat
any more. "Theophilus, you must give him a tonic! The poor child has
no appetite whatever!"
"Fresh English breezes will be the best tonics for him, I expect,"
the doctor replied quietly; "however, we shall see! I shall prescribe
that he keeps out-of-doors as much as possible!"
"But you'll give him some medicine, won't you?" Miss Warren asked
anxiously.
"I think not. He shall have some drives with me. How would you like
that, Dick?"
"Oh, that would be splendid!" the little boy cried, his cheeks
flushing with pleasure. "What is your horse called, Uncle
Theophilus?"
"Firefly."
"The laziest animal in the world!" Miss Warren declared, shaking her
head at her brother. "You know it's true, Theophilus, and it's all
your fault! You indulge him, and let him go his own pace. He's
getting so fat that soon he'll be a laughing-stock for the whole
country-side!"
The doctor smiled good-temperedly, and made no reply, doubtless
because he knew his sister was right. After tea he went out to see a
patient, and Dick was left to the tender mercies of Aunt Mary Ann.
Then his luggage arrived and was duly unpacked. His mother had sent
several presents to her aunt and uncle, and Miss Warren was simply
delighted.
"How kind of dear Margaret!" she said. "These sofa cushions are
lovely—worked in silver and gold thread by the natives, I suppose.
Come into the drawing-room, Dick, and let us see how the cushions
will look on the sofa."
The drawing-room was not nearly such a cheerful apartment as the
sitting-room, although it looked out into the pretty, old-fashioned
garden. The furniture was heavy, and all the chairs were draped with
brown Holland coverings; a piano occupied one corner of the room, but
it was seldom touched, now-a-days, except, as Dick afterwards found
out, on Sundays, when his aunt was sometimes tempted to play a chant
or a hymn-tune.
Miss Warren arranged the cushions on the sofa, and seemed satisfied
with the effect; then, seeing how tired Dick was looking, she
suggested that he should go to bed; so he accordingly went upstairs
to his own room. She came to visit him after he was in bed, and asked
him if he had said his prayers; being satisfied on that point,
she fussed around the apartment, seeing everything was in order, and
then kissed him affectionately, bidding him soon sleep like a good
boy. Dick heard her go downstairs ere he buried his head beneath the
clothes and sobbed as though his heart would break. He was so
dreadfully lonely, poor little boy; but he would not for anything
have had Aunt Mary know that he was crying. She was as kind as his
mother had said she would be; but still, she was a stranger to him.
On board ship he had had Colonel and Mrs. Blair, whom he had known
all his short life, to console him, and he had felt saying good-bye
to them a great deal. He had not liked to tell Aunt Mary Ann how sore
his heart was, nor how miserable he felt.
He went over again the parting with his parents on that memorable day
weeks before, when they had been obliged to leave him on the
homeward-bound vessel. How he had clung to them weeping; how pale his
father had looked, and how his mother had scarcely been able to tear
herself away from his embrace. He shut his eyes, and fancied he heard
their voices; his father's saying, "Good-bye, Dick; be a brave boy!
God bless you, my little son!" and his mother's, "Don't forget us,
Dick!" As though it was possible that he could ever forget them!
He was too young to know that that involuntary cry had come from her
aching heart, prompted by the fear which haunted her that Sir Richard
Gidley might try to win her son's affection from her—a fear she had
never breathed to her husband, or to any one but God.
Dick cried till he felt quite exhausted, and then lay perfectly
still, listening to the sounds which reached his room—his aunt's
voice downstairs, the footsteps of passers-by in the street outside.
By-and-by he heard the front door open and shut; and presently, slow,
deliberate steps mounted the stairs; the door opened quietly, and the
doctor entered, bearing a lighted candle in his hand, which he placed
on the dressing-table.
"I have come to say good-night to you, Dick," he said in his deep
pleasant voice, as he seated himself in a chair by the bedside. Then
he took one of the child's hot hands in his, and breathed— "A-ah!"
Dick was ashamed to be caught crying; but Uncle Theophilus tactfully
refrained from remarking upon his very evident distress; instead,
he spoke of the drive he meant to take on the morrow, and asked Dick
if he would bear him company.
"Oh, yes, please!" Dick answered. "How kind of you to think of taking
me!"
"We must be friends, you and I," the doctor remarked cordially,
"for we shall see a great deal of each other, you know!"
"Oh, yes!" Dick agreed. His breath was still coming in little gasping
sobs. "I am very sorry," he added apologetically, "I—I can't help
it—and you and Aunt Mary Ann are so kind, too!"
"Never mind, my boy, I think I understand. Life is very hard
sometimes, Dick; I've found that myself; but a stout heart and a firm
trust in One above help us along many a rugged path. Your mother has
taught you that?"
"Yes, Uncle Theophilus. I'm afraid I'm a big coward; but I do want
to be brave. I should like to be a soldier, when I'm a man, like
father."
"You can be a soldier now, if you like—a soldier of the Lord Jesus
Christ. You can fight on His side for truth against falsehood, for
love against hate, for holiness against sin. You need not wait until
you are a man to be a soldier of Christ; the smallest, feeblest child
may fight under His banner, and win a crown of life!"
"Oh, that's exactly what mother says!"
"Ah!" the doctor's grave face broke into a smile. "You must always
remember your mother's teaching, Dick. I think if she was here now,
she would say you ought to go to sleep—so I'll say good-night."
"Good-night," Dick responded. The sound of tears was gone from his
voice, and he spoke quite cheerfully. "It was awfully good of you
to think of coming to see me, Uncle Theophilus; and I'm so glad you
did, though I didn't want you to see what a baby I am."
"Oh, I'm not going to tell any one, Dick, rest assured upon that
point. We all feel life is a little too much for us sometimes, and
then the fighting spirit rises within us, and we determine, by God's
help, to overcome our sorrows and difficulties. I suppose that was
the case with you to-night, moping here by yourself. I hope I have
succeeded in raising your British pluck?"
"Yes; I think you have," Dick replied, smiling. "I'm not going to
mope any longer; I'm going to sleep, instead." And he was as good
as his word.