Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: A BUNCH OF FLOWERS FOR MELINA.]
THE LITTLE GENTLEMAN
BY
ELEANORA H. STOOKE
AUTHOR OF
"COUSIN BECKY'S CHAMPIONS," "ROBIN OF SUN COURT,"
"GRANFER AND ONE CHRISTMAS TIME," ETC.
WITH FRONTISPIECE BY E. R. MARQUAND
LONDON
NATIONAL SOCIETY'S DEPOSITORY
19 GREAT PETER STREET, WESTMINSTER, S.W.
NEW YORK: THOMAS WHITTAKER, 2 & 3 BIBLE HOUSE
1910
(All rights reserved)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. MELINA MAKES A FRIEND
II. MELINA AT HOME
III. MRS. BERRYMAN's HOARD
IV. GOING TO SUNDAY SCHOOL
V. MRS. BROWN'S INVITATION
VI. GOING OUT TO TEA
VII. LOCKED IN
VIII. GOOD FRIDAY EVENING
IX. ANTICIPATING THE BANK HOLIDAY
X. AN EVENTFUL DAY
XI. THE FIRE
XII. GOOD-BYES
THE LITTLE GENTLEMAN
CHAPTER I
MELINA MAKES A FRIEND
"HULLOA, Melina, where are you going? How is it you aren't at school?
You'd best look out or your Granny'll get the attendance officer around
her again about you, and then she'll give you what you won't like!"
The scene was the corner of Jubilee Terrace, a row of small red-brick
cottages on the outskirts of Hawstock, a large provincial west of
England town, on a cold January morning; and the speaker—William
Jones—was a tall, well-grown boy of about twelve years of age,
comfortably clad, who had that minute emerged from one of the cottages
and encountered an ill-tempered-looking little girl, a year or so his
junior, to whom he had addressed himself.
"D' you think I'm afraid of the attendance officer?" demanded the
little girl, who was called Melina Berryman. She spoke in a high,
shrill voice, the voice of a scold, and her manner was argumentative.
"And I ain't afraid of Gran either, so there!" she added.
The boy laughed unbelievingly, whilst his blue eyes twinkled with
amusement as they travelled over his companion from the crown of her
battered hat, decorated with a draggled plume of cocks' feathers, to
the tips of her toes, which had worn through her stockings and were
peeping out of her shabby boots. He was not really an unkind boy; but
Melina Berryman was the butt of all the children who lived in Jubilee
Terrace, and he found considerable amusement in teasing her. It was
such fun to bait her into an ungovernable passion, to see her thin
white countenance distorted with anger and her big eyes flash, and to
listen to the volley of abuse which would flow so glibly from her lips
when, facing her tormentor, she would look for all the world like a
little wild animal, with her lips drawn back from her gleaming white
teeth, and her shock of tousled hair.
"I ain't afraid of Gran either," she repeated, and she nodded her head
knowingly; "she can't wollop me now." Her tone was triumphant.
"Why not?" asked the boy. "She gave it to you last week. I heard her;
and I heard you afterwards—crying. My, how you did go on!"
Melina flushed and bit her lip, then scowled. She and her grandmother,
her father's mother, occupied the cottage next door to the one in
which William Jones, who was an only child, lived with his parents,
a respectable couple who had but little intercourse with old Mrs.
Berryman, who—the truth must be told—did not bear a good reputation and
was addicted to drink. The inhabitants of Jubilee Terrace were nearly
all of the working classes, people who laboured honestly; therefore
they had been anything but pleased when old Mrs. Berryman, who it was
said earned her livelihood by money-lending to the poorest of the poor,
had a year or so previously taken up her abode at No. 2. She was a
cross-grained woman who never passed a civil word with anybody, and it
was generally thought that she was unkind to Melina, which was indeed a
fact.
"You were at it for the best part of an hour, I should think," the boy
proceeded, "howling like a good 'un! I wondered how you could keep it
up. If you hadn't stopped when you did, mother would have paid Mrs.
Berryman a visit; she threatened to, and—"
"Oh, I'm very glad she didn't," interrupted Melina; "if she had, Gran
would have served me worse than ever afterwards."
"And yet you say you aren't afraid of your grandmother!"
"Not now. She's ill."
"Ill? Perhaps she'll die."
Melina shook her head; there was hopelessness in the gesture. "No such
luck!" she exclaimed callously.
"Oh, Melina, you wicked girl, to speak like that!" William was really
shocked, and looked it. "Has she had a doctor?" he inquired.
"No. She says she can't afford one, and wouldn't have one if she could;
she says it's a bad cold she's got."
"I dare say it is. I've been home from school several days with a bad
cold myself; this is the first time I've been out. I don't stay away
from school for no reason, Melina, like you."
Melina regarded her neighbour with a sneer on her face, then deigned to
explain that her absence from school to-day was accounted for by the
fact of her grandmother's illness.
"I've got to look after Gran," she said; "I'm going to do some errands
for her now, so I can't stay here any longer wasting my time with you."
And, having spoken thus impolitely, she turned the corner of Jubilee
Terrace and disappeared from sight.
In the street adjoining Jubilee Terrace was a small all-sorts shop
which was also one of the branch post offices of the town. There it
was that Melina made her purchases. For a shilling she bought several
packages of groceries—a pennyworth of this, twopennyworth of that, and
so on; and then, carrying her packages, she started for home. She was
turning the corner into Jubilee Terrace when she came suddenly face to
face with William Jones, who deliberately jutted his elbow against her,
with the result that she let most of her packages fall. A cry of dismay
escaped her lips as she perceived that a screw of paper, which had held
two ounces of tea, had broken open, and that the tea was strewn on the
muddy pavement.
"Oh, I say, I'm sorry," William was beginning truthfully, for he had
not meant to do any real harm, when he was cut short by Melina, who
sprang towards him with uplifted hand and dealt him a stinging box on
the ear.
"You wicked, wicked boy!" she panted, and was about to hit him again
when some one grasped her by the shoulder, and a man's voice said:
"Stop, stop! What is the meaning of this?"
Melina tried to free herself from her captor, but in vain; then she
twisted herself around and looked him in the face, her eyes full of
angry tears, her usually pale cheeks aflame. She found she was being
held by a plain, under-sized man, a stranger to her, who was gazing at
her in a nearsighted way through a pair of eyeglasses.
"Let me go!" she cried; "I hate him—ah, how I hate him!"
"Hush, hush!" said the stranger, "I don't think you mean that. Yes,
yes, I saw what he did. It was very rough—very clumsy of him. But see,
he is picking up your parcels for you; I don't think much damage has
been done, except to the tea."
"It was two ounces and it costs tuppence," said Melina, in a voice
which was tremulous with passion, "and it's all spoilt. If Gran
wasn't ill she'd beat me, and he—" shaking her fist at the aggressor—
"wouldn't care; she'll keep me without dinner now, I expect."
"If she does, I'll get mother to give you some," William said hastily.
He had gathered together her packages, and now gave them to her, but
she was not to be easily appeased.
"I'll be even with you yet," she declared, "that I will! You needn't
think I'll forget this! You bumped against me on purpose, you know you
did!"
The boy did not attempt to deny it. He was feeling glad that none of
his friends had been present to witness what had passed, for he would
not have liked it to have been known that Melina had boxed his ears;
but he admitted to himself that he had done wrong, and, not wishing to
prolong the scene, he murmured a few words of apology and turned away.
The little girl gazed after him wrathfully till he disappeared within
the door of his own home, then, overcome with agitation, her tears
broke bounds and ran down her cheeks.
"Oh, don't cry, don't cry!" said the stranger kindly. All this while he
had been holding her by the shoulder, but now he released his grasp,
and, putting his hand into his pocket, produced two pennies, which he
gave her, saying as he did so:
"There, you will be able to buy another two ounces of tea for your
grandmother, and then you won't be kept without your dinner, will you?"
"No," she answered, with a brightening face. "Thank you, sir. I didn't
want to go without my dinner because I'm—oh, so hungry! I only had a
little bit of dry bread for breakfast at eight o'clock."
"And now it is past noon! Do you live alone with your grandmother?"
"Yes," sighed Melina. "My mother died when I was a baby, and father—he
was Gran's son—gave me to Gran. I wish he hadn't, I'm sure."
"Your grandmother is very poor?" he questioned.
The little girl's face clouded again, and she hesitated before she
answered "I don't know."
He looked at her in puzzled silence, noticing her unkempt appearance.
She would have been a pretty child if she had been less painfully
thin, but, as it was, she was a mere bag of bones. Whilst he was thus
scrutinising her, she was no less attentively observing him. He was a
very little gentleman, she thought, but there was something about him
which she found attractive—perhaps it was the expression of good will
with which he was regarding her. No one had ever looked at her like
that before.
"Do you live near here?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir," she replied; "at No. 2 Jubilee Terrace."
"Ah! Then we shall meet again. I have come to live at Hawstock, to be a
lay-helper in the parish."
Melina said "Yes, sir," though she had not the least idea what a
lay-helper was. She was moving away when the little gentleman detained
her.
"I hope you are going to forgive that boy who acted so rudely to you,"
he remarked; "I think he was ashamed of himself, and he apologised, you
know."
"That was only because you were here," Melina said bluntly; "I know
William Jones very well, and—" significantly—"he knows me."
Her pale face had flushed again; but, meeting her companion's eyes
at that moment, something in them—a look of mingled sorrow and
sympathy—caused her lips to quiver suddenly. "I—I am so miserable," she
faltered, "everyone—yes, everyone is against me." She brushed a hand
hastily across her eyes, then added: "Oh, I must hurry back to the shop
for the tea, and get home to Gran!"
But once more the little gentleman detained her.
"You complain that everyone is against you," he said; "won't you tell
me what you mean? Is not your grandmother kind to you?"
She shook her head, and, pulling up the loose sleeve of her blouse,
exhibited a skinny arm covered with bruises. "That's her doing," she
said, with a bitter laugh that sounded strangely from a child's lips;
"no, she ain't kind to me—not when she's in drink anyway. When she's
sober she lets me be."
"And is she your only relative? Your father—what of him?"
"He went away—I don't know where—years ago, when I was a baby. I don't
remember him. Gran's always saying he'll come back some day. I wish he
would; p'r'aps he'd be kinder than Gran."
The little gentleman looked at her pityingly. "Poor little girl," he
said, "you must let me be your friend, will you?"
"Oh, sir!" exclaimed Melina in amazement. "I—oh, you can't mean it! You
are a gentleman, and I—" She broke off with an expressive glance at her
ragged frock.
"I do mean it," he said, smiling; "I hope to make many friends in this
parish before long, and I shall count you as my first. By the way, you
have not told me your name?"
"It is Melina Berryman, sir."
"Well, then, Melina, remember that I am your friend, and you will know
that there is some one in Hawstock who is not against you—some one
who would do you a good turn if he could and will pray for you to our
Father in heaven."
"Do you mean God?" asked Melina.
He assented. "'If God be for us, who can be against us?'" he quoted.
The little girl gave him a quick, shrewd glance. "You ain't a parson,"
she said; "I wonder what makes you talk like that! I don't want to
think of God. I'm afraid—" She broke off abruptly.
"Afraid of Him who gave His dear Son to be the Saviour of the world?
Oh, surely not! Don't you know that Jesus is your Saviour? Don't you
know that He promised 'Him that cometh to Me I will in nowise cast
out'? He wants you to go to Him, to trust Him, to give Him your love,
and then you will never feel lonely or friendless more. He is the one
perfect Friend who never changes, never fails anyone. I can answer for
that."
The little gentleman paused, his face glowing with the light of that
faith which had been his guiding star for many a long year, and, taking
one of Melina's little cold hands, he pressed it kindly.
"Good-bye, little girl," he said, "and God bless you. Before long I
hope we shall meet again."