CONCLUSION
"OH, Ann, I do feel so excited!" The speaker was Violet Wyndham,
and her pretty face, with its bright colour, smiling lips, and
sparkling eyes, was witness to the truth of her statement. It was
within a few days of Christmas, the school term having ended on the
previous afternoon, and she and Ann had been putting the finishing
touches to the room which had been prepared for the visitor who was
expected to arrive on the morrow.
"Oh, how delightful it will be to see dear old Ruthie," she continued;
"I expect her box is packed by this time. I wonder how they will
manage without her at home!"
"It is very good of your mother to spare her to us," said Mrs. Reed,
entering the room at that instant; "we must try to make her visit
a happy one."
"Oh, I am sure it will be that!" Violet cried sanguinely, her brown
eyes softening with gratitude as she turned them upon Mrs. Reed
who was glancing around to see that everything was as it should be.
"You are so very, very kind," she proceeded, "it was so like you
to give this invitation to Ruthie, and I can't express how glad I am
that she could accept it. It seems so wonderful that we should have
such friends! As for me—I shall never be able to repay you for your
goodness to me as long as I live! I know I must have worried you
a great deal at first, I was so untidy and careless, but I've really
improved in that way of late, haven't I?" she questioned anxiously.
"Yes," assented Mrs. Reed, with a smile; "you most certainly have.
The room looks very nice, girls, I don't think there is anything more
to be done to it."
"We must be in good time to meet Ruth at the station to-morrow,"
remarked Ann; "I hope her train will not be overcrowded. She has never
travelled alone before, has she, Violet?"
"Never," Violet answered. "I wonder how Agnes Hosking is feeling,"
she observed reflectively, a moment later, a sudden gravity
overshadowing her countenance; "she must be a good way on her journey
by this time—she will have a very long journey, as she has to go right
through London and on to Bath."
"I am afraid she will have a miserable Christmas," said Ann; "I think
I never saw anyone more depressed and unhappy than she was when we
said good-bye to her yesterday. 'I shall never see you again,'
she said, 'and you will have only unpleasant memories of me.' We did
not know what to say to her, as you may imagine, mother, for of course
we could not contradict her."
"I have the greatest difficulty in realising that she is poor,
it seems incredible," said Violet; "I used to think she was to be
envied because she always had plenty of money to spend and we had so
little, and Ruthie used to get so vexed with me. Well, I certainly
have no cause to be envious of Agnes now, for she is more wretched
than anyone I ever knew."
"She is intensely selfish and pities herself extremely," said Ann;
"I believe she is rather inclined to blame her father for losing his
money; she said she thought he must have been foolish and reckless,
and yet I am positive she loves him."
"Poor girl!" exclaimed Mrs. Reed. "Perhaps poverty will teach her
a great deal she has never learnt yet," she proceeded thoughtfully,
"and to be kinder and more considerate to other people; she will be
called upon to make sacrifices now, and that may be the very
discipline she wants."
"I hope she will never gamble again," said Ann gravely, "I spoke
to her about it and remarked what dreadful things it often led people
to do, but she did not seem in the least impressed until I told her
all about Lottie Medland—of course I did not mention Lottie by name,
only as the girl who stole her purse."
"And you say she was impressed then?" Mrs. Reed inquired.
"Yes. She tried, at first, to argue that betting and gambling were
different matters altogether, but by-and-by she admitted that the
principle of each was the same—the desire to gain money at another's
expense. Then she reminded me that people in good society gambled,
and I said that I didn't think any society could be truthfully called
'good' in which such a wicked practice was tolerated, and that
if people in high positions would only taboo it those in the lower
classes of society would follow their example—I heard father say that
the other day. Oh, we had quite a warm argument, I can tell you."
"Yes, indeed," nodded Violet, "and in the end she was obliged to allow
there was a great deal in all Ann had said, and she promised to bear
it in mind."
"I hope she will," Mrs. Reed said gravely; "I trust there will be
no playing cards for money at Helmsford College next term, if so
it ought certainly to be brought to the knowledge of Miss Orchardson.
It is a good thing those Pelhams have left, girls like those do a
great deal of harm in a school and always exercise a bad influence
over their companions."
"Now, my dears," she continued in a brisker tone, "I'm going to tell
you something which I know will give you pleasure—it is about Lottie
Medland. I met Dr. Elizabeth when I was in the town doing my shopping
this morning, and she spoke of Lottie to me, said how greatly the girl
had changed for the better in every way since her illness, and that
she believed she would keep steady now and live to be a real comfort
to her mother. Of course I was very, very glad to hear this,
especially as it came from Dr. Elizabeth; for she has so many
acquaintances among the factory hands that she would be sure to find
out the truth about Lottie. Then she went on to tell me that Lottie
is beginning to save money and is putting by something every week,
sometimes only a few coppers, sometimes more; and why do you think
she is doing this?"
"I don't know," Violet replied, "to buy something she fancies,
I suppose?"
"To have a nest egg against a rainy day?" suggested Ann.
"No," smiled Mrs. Reed, "she is doing it in hope of being able
to repay the money she stole—"
"But, mother, she knows that Agnes has had the money repaid to her,"
broke in Ann, "I told her that father had made it good."
"She intends to return the money to your father, Ann; she has talked
the matter over with Dr. Elizabeth, who has consented to keep her
savings for her till she has the full amount. I was very glad to hear
this of Lottie, for it shows that she is grateful to your father and
feels her indebtedness to him. I shall certainly advise him to accept
the money; it will take her some time to save it, though, poor girl!"
"Yes, indeed it will," agreed Violet.
"I can realise how she feels," said Ann; "I am sure she will be
happier in her mind if she can make the money good. I know father
hasn't given a second thought to the money itself and never expects
it to be repaid. How surprised he will be when he gets it back!
We must go and see the Medlands before Christmas, Violet."
"You shall take a Christmas pudding with you as a gift from me
to Mrs. Medland," said Mrs. Reed.
"Let us wait till after to-morrow, then Ruthie will be able to go
with us!" cried Violet; "I want her to see the old part of the town."
"We must show her all we can whilst she is with us," Ann replied;
"it shall not be our fault if she does not have a thoroughly
good time."
And it was a thoroughly good time Ruth enjoyed during those Christmas
holidays, a time to be subsequently remembered with keenest gratitude
and pleasure; for, as she remarked to her sister on the evening of her
arrival at Barford, there was nothing in the background to worry her,
and she had left those at home well, and in the best of spirits.
It was a new experience for Ruth to be made the first consideration,
and she thoroughly appreciated the novelty of the situation. The
weather, though cold, was remarkably fine for the season, and thus
there were favourable opportunities for taking her to various places
in the neighbourhood. She had some delightful drives with the doctor
in his gig; and old Mrs. Garret, hearing that a sister of Violet's
was visiting at the Reeds', wrote and gave the three girls
an invitation to spend a long day with her grand-daughters,
an invitation which was promptly accepted. Ruth had never before seen
such a picturesque home as Mrs. Garret's fine old country house
standing, as it did, in the midst of scenery which, in spite of the
season being winter, impressed her with its beauty; and she was
charmed with the sweet-faced, white-haired old lady, who welcomed her
so cordially, and the two gentle-mannered girls, upon whom she looked
with especial favour because she knew they had been kind and loyal
to the sister she loved so well.
"I think I never enjoyed Christmas holidays so much before," remarked
Ann in a tone of satisfaction, one evening early in January, when
Dr. and Mrs. Reed had gone out to dine with friends, and she and the
sisters were passing the time in chatting whilst they sat by the
drawing-room fire; "as a rule they have rather dragged—when mother's
been out of the way, you know, and I've had no one to talk to. It's so
nice to have companions of one's own age. I hope you don't begrudge
Violet to me now, Ruth; I had rather an idea in the summer,
at Teymouth, that you did."
"I don't know that I ever actually begrudged her to you," Ruth
answered, colouring as she spoke; "but I was rather afraid that you
might wean her from us—not intentionally, though."
"Oh, Ruthie!" cried Violet, whilst Ann looked her surprise; "certainly
Ann and I have become great friends, but I love you and all of them
at home as much as I ever did—more, I believe."
"Yes, but it might have been otherwise," Ruth reminded her; "I thought
you might learn to despise your home. You see I didn't know Mrs. Reed
and Ann when you left home, Vi. You are so different from what I had
pictured you, Ann."
"Now I do wonder what you and Violet thought I should be like," said
Ann, looking puzzled; "I wish you would tell me, for I have so often
been curious upon the point and wanted to know. Both of you have told
me the same, that I am different from what you had pictured me."
"Shall I tell her, Ruth?" asked Violet, laughing mischievously. Then,
as her sister nodded assent, she continued: "Well, one day, after
Dr. Reed had been to see us at Streatham, we were speaking of you,
and mother called you Prosperity's child—"
"Prosperity's child!" broke in Ann, opening her grey eyes very wide
in her surprise. "Prosperity's child?" she echoed, inquiringly.
"Yes," nodded Violet, "I'd been wondering what you were like, and I
said, I remember, that I expected you had everything heart could
desire. Oh, I was in a horrid, grumbling mood! and mother said that
doubtless you had all that father and she would give me if they could,
and she reminded me that I was a poor man's daughter and that
you were—Prosperity's child. You see we knew that your father had got
on well in the world, and we thought—I'm speaking of Ruth and myself
now, I don't know what mother's ideas were—that you wouldn't
understand anything about the pinches and privations some people get.
That's why I was shy about talking of our home to you at first;
you see I'd often heard father say that prosperity spoilt people—"
"Some people," corrected Ruth hastily, "he said prosperity had not
spoilt Dr. Reed."
"But we didn't know the effect it might have had on you, you know,
Ann," Violet went on; "I thought you would be proud and—and selfish
very likely, and want to have everything all your own way, and I
believe I half feared you might look down on me—Oh, I know you never
did! You have all along showed me more consideration than I deserved."
She paused a moment, then continued:—
"When I came here first I was surprised at a great many things; I saw
that Mrs. Reed managed the house carefully that she might have more
to give away, and—and it astonished me that you should take so much
interest in people I should never have thought of having anything
to do with myself—people like the Medlands, for instance. And I had
actually been afraid that you might be a girl like Agnes Hosking,
Ann!"
"Poor Agnes!" exclaimed Ann. Her face was growing less puzzled.
She had been looking grave and a little hurt, but now a faint, amused
smile hovered around her lips. "Poor Agnes," she repeated in pitying
accents, "I wonder if we shall ever hear of her again?"
"Not very likely," replied Violet; "Ruth says all Mr. Hosking's
belongings at Streatham were sold, and no one seems to know what has
become of him."
"People do not interest themselves much about their neighbours in
London," said Ruth; "I believe Mr. Hosking used to entertain a good
bit, but I expect his friends have turned cold shoulders on him now."
"Then they could not have been real friends," declared Ann. "Oh, I do
feel sorry for him and for Agnes too—she has no real friends either,
poor girl! I am sure she is heartily ashamed now of the way
she treated you over the loss of her purse, Violet."
"So she ought to be," asserted Violet; "there is only one thing to be
said for her, that she really did believe I had taken her purse. Well,
it's an old story now, and I've forgiven her, so we'll talk of
something pleasanter."
"Have you really forgiven her, Vi?" Ruth asked eagerly.
"Yes," nodded Violet, "I thought I never could, but I have. I've often
wondered of late whether, if I'd been brought up in the same way
as Agnes, I might not have been rather like her; for when I came
to Barford a year ago I set great store on wealth and social position,
but I've grown to see since then that it's a good thing to be rich
only if you help others with your money and don't spend it all on
yourself, otherwise you're better without it. So many rich folks are
selfish and do nothing but please themselves, they are not like
Dr. Elizabeth—I'm so glad you know Dr. Elizabeth, Ruth."
"So am I," Ruth answered. She had spent an evening with her sister
and Ann at the lady doctor's house, on an occasion when the latter
had entertained a party of factory girls, and had enjoyed herself
very much.
"She is the most unselfish person I know," said Ann; "for if she had
liked she might have lived at ease all her days; instead, see what a
busy, hard-working life hers has been and always will be, I expect.
She said to me once that God had given her great opportunities
of working for Him and that she must try to make the most of them."
"God gives very few people great opportunities," Ruth remarked. "But
we can all do our best with those we have," she added thoughtfully.
"Yes," agreed Ann; "we must believe God gives us just what is best
for us, and do all the good we can."
"It sounds very simple," commented Violet, "but it's not very easy
to carry it out. I suppose to do good one must be good. Ann, do you
remember that verse Dr. Elizabeth quoted to us? I've so often thought
of it since:—"
"'Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever,
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long;
And so make Life, Death, and that vast "For-ever"
One grand sweet song.'"
"I like that," declared Ruth heartily, "Of course goodness ought
to come first. It is not given to us all to be clever, I am not in the
least clever myself—"
"Why I am sure you have a great talent for painting," interrupted Ann,
"you cannot think how much that sketch you did of Granny's cottage has
been admired! So many people have noticed it, haven't they, Violet?"
Violet assented, and Ruth naturally looked very pleased. The
conversation then turned to Teymouth and the probability of the
families of Reed and Wyndham meeting there in August, and, by-and-by,
as it was growing late and they were not to sit up till the return
of Dr. and Mrs. Reed, the trio went to bed.
On the following morning Ann received a letter with the Bath postmark,
which proved to be a few lines from Agnes Hosking saying that her
father had decided to emigrate to New Zealand, to join a brother of
his who was settled there as a sheep farmer and had offered to give
him a helping hand, and that she was to accompany him.
"I could remain with my grandmother if I liked," she wrote; "but I
prefer to go with father. You seemed to care about what was to become
of me, so that is why I am letting you know. Perhaps, some day, I may
write again, and if I do I will give you my address. You and Violet
Wyndham have no cause to think of me kindly, yet I know you both wish
me well, and I am grateful for that. If you think I'm worth a second
thought you might pray for me—I know you believe in prayer, and I
don't think anyone ever prayed for me yet."
"Poor girl," said Mrs. Reed, when her daughter read this letter aloud
to her and the two Wyndham girls; "it may be this is the turning point
in her career. I am glad she is going with her father. We must all of
us remember her in our prayers."
"Fancy her saying no one ever prayed for her yet!" exclaimed Violet;
"how sad that seems!" And her bright eyes grew dim with sympathetic
tears, whilst the last lingering trace of resentment in her heart
against her erstwhile enemy died out altogether.
At the end of another week Ruth's visit came to an end. She parted
from her sister very cheerfully, content in the knowledge that,
strange though it seemed, Violet had actually drawn nearer to her in
heart and soul during their separation. That this was owing to Ann's
influence Ruth knew very well, and her heart was full to overflowing
with love and gratitude towards this true friend—Prosperity's Child.
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TURNBULL AND SPEARS.
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