AN EVENTFUL DAY
SEVEN o'clock in the morning on Easter Monday found Melina breakfasting
with her neighbours. The breakfast of fried bacon and delicious coffee
seemed quite a luxurious meal to her, accustomed as she was to commence
the day fortified only with a cup of weak tea and a slice of bread
spread with margarine or dripping, and, encouraged by a remark from Mr.
Jones to the effect that the more she ate the better she would please
him, she thoroughly enjoyed it.
"How are you getting on, my dear?" Mr. Jones asked every now and again,
as the meal progressed.
And Melina answered each time: "Very well, thank you, Mr. Jones," and
gave him a shy pleased smile, with a very grateful feeling in her heart.
Immediately breakfast was over a start was made for the station, Mrs.
Jones and Melina walking ahead, while Mr. Jones followed with William,
the two latter taking turns in carrying a large covered basket which
was full of provisions. They arrived at the station in good time for
the excursion train by which they were to make the short journey to
Hawmouth.
"I say, Melina, who'd have thought that you'd be going with us?"
remarked William, as, with Melina and his mother, he waited on the
platform whilst his father procured their tickets.
"Yes, who'd have thought it!" Melina returned gaily; "I can scarcely
believe it—really! It's like a dream—a beautiful dream! Oh, how glad I
am it's such a fine day!"
"It's warm, too, for April," said Mrs. Jones,—"more like summer, I call
it."
Melina was secretly delighted that it was so warm, for on that account
she had been able to dispense with her shabby old jacket. She was
looking very nice in her new serge frock and sailor hat; and, though
her shoes were shabby, she had blacked them so carefully and managed
to put such a polish on them that they did not show how much they were
worn.
"I wonder what you'll think of the sea, Melina," said William; "I've
been telling mother it'll be your first sight of it. You'll be able to
get some pretty shells, if you like them, and—oh, here's father!"
Mr. Jones joined them, and, a minute later, their train ran into the
station and they took their seats in it at once.
Melina sat next to Mrs. Jones, with Mr. Jones and William opposite.
The father and son were wearing their best clothes, and the former had
donned a sky-blue tie and put a flower in his button-hole.
"Now we're off!" said Mr. Jones, nodding at Melina, as the train began
to move slowly out of the station.
She gave a low laugh expressive of intense delight, and, bending
forward, whispered to him: "I've never been by train before!"
"You don't say so!" he exclaimed in astonishment.
"Never," the little girl said impressively, "this is the first proper
holiday I've ever had."
"Then I hope you'll enjoy it, my dear," he answered; "it shall not be
my fault if you don't."
Looking out of the window Melina noticed that the railway line ran
parallel with the river, the Haw, which flowed by Hawstock and emptied
itself into the sea at Hawmouth.
"Why, Mr. Jones, how wide the river's getting!" she exclaimed
presently; "and oh, there's quite a big ship! How deep the water must
be here!"
"Yes," he assented; "at the next curve of the line we shall come in
sight of the sea. There now, lookout!"
Melina did look out; but instead of expressing the surprise and
admiration her companions had expected to hear, she sat silent, too
awe-struck to speak, her eyes fixed on the wide expanse of water which,
on this beautiful spring morning, shone like silver in the sunshine. A
few minutes later the train ran into a cutting, and then slowed into
Hawmouth station and stopped.
Melina never forgot the happy hours which followed. The morning she
spent on the esplanade in front of the sea: the tide was high, and, Mr.
Jones and William having gone to bathe, and Mrs. Jones having sat down
on a seat to rest, she strolled about by herself, looking at the other
excursionists and listening to the band which was playing. By and by
she returned to Mrs. Jones, and they sat talking and enjoying the fresh
salt air and the glorious sunshine, whilst they watched the sea-birds
hovering around and the sails of distant ships, which stood out plainly
against the blue horizon. Then Mr. Jones and William joined them, and
the contents of the big basket were brought to light and they had
dinner. The meal consisted of meat pies, made by Mrs. Jones herself,
and now pronounced the best she had ever made, with ginger-beer to
drink.
By this time the tide was receding; so, as soon as dinner was finished,
a move was made for the beach, where, subsequently, they explored the
rocks, which were now uncovered. There Melina gathered a quantity of
pretty shells with which she filled her pocket, and saw beautiful
anemones of varied hues, in the pools between the rocks, besides all
kinds of pretty seaweeds. The afternoon passed so quickly that she was
quite surprised when Mrs. Jones said it was time for tea.
They had tea at a restaurant. That was a novel experience for Melina,
too; and afterwards they returned to the esplanade, where they remained
till they were obliged to hurry to the railway station to catch the
train home.
"I shall never forget this day as long as I live," Melina declared,
as, at half-past nine o'clock, she and her friends were walking from
the railway station at Hawstock towards Jubilee Terrace; "and I shall
never, never, never be able to thank you enough, Mr. Jones—"
"Now, now," interrupted Mr. Jones, "no more of that! I don't want to
hear anything about thanks. I'm glad you've enjoyed my little treat;
it's been a real pleasure to us to take you with us, I'm sure."
"Yes, that's so," agreed Mrs. Jones. "Are you very tired, Melina?" she
inquired.
"Oh no," the little girl replied, "not in the least! I wish the day was
only just beginning!"
As they turned the corner of Jubilee Terrace they saw, by the light of
the street lamp, that a man was standing on Mrs. Berryman's doorstep.
He moved off as they approached, and met them.
"Excuse me," he said, addressing Mr. Jones; "can you tell me if Mrs.
Berryman lives at No. 2?"
"Yes," Mr. Jones assented, "she does."
"Ah, then I was rightly informed! I've knocked at the door several
times, but I can't make anyone hear. Perhaps, as it is getting late,
I'd better go back to the town and come again to-morrow."
So saying the man, who was tall and of respectable appearance, walked
away.
"Now, I wonder who that is," said Mr. Jones. "I don't know him, and yet
it seemed to me I'd heard his voice before. I expect your grandmother
heard him knocking right enough, eh, Melina?"
"Oh yes," Melina agreed; "but she wouldn't go to the door because it's
late, and she'd be afraid he was a robber."
"A robber!" echoed Mr. Jones in astonishment, adding, "Why, I should
never have guessed Mrs. Berryman was the sort of woman to be nervous
like that! We'll wait and see you get admission, anyway."
Apparently Mrs. Berryman had been watching for the return of the
excursionists from her parlour window, for before Mr. Jones had time to
knock, she opened the door. The passage of the cottage was in darkness,
so that he could not see her face, but he heard by the thickness of her
speech immediately she spoke that she was not quite sober.
"So you've brought my granddaughter back at last," she said; "I hope
she's behaved herself."
"Why, of course she has," Mr. Jones answered; "she's been a very good
little maid, and we've had a most pleasant day."
"Humph!" ejaculated the old woman. She stretched out her hand, and,
taking Melina by the arm, pulled her into the passage. "Good night,"
she said, and forthwith shut the door in her neighbours' faces.
"There's manners for you!" exclaimed William indignantly.
"I hope she'll give that poor child some supper," said Mr. Jones; "I'm
glad to remember that she ate a good tea."
"Poor Melina!" sighed Mrs. Jones sympathetically; "what a home-coming
for her after a day's pleasure! Poor little girl!"
Meanwhile Mrs. Berryman had drawn Melina into the kitchen, which was
lit by a small hand-lamp on the table. On the table, too, stood a
bottle of spirits and a tumbler.
"Who was that knocking at the door just before you arrived?" Mrs.
Berryman demanded.
"I don't know," Melina replied, "he was a stranger. He spoke to Mr.
Jones and asked if you lived here, and when he heard that you did he
said he'd call again to-morrow."
"Who can he be?" the old woman muttered to herself. "Did you see what
he was like?" she inquired.
"I only saw that he was tall, and I think—oh yes, I am sure that he
wore a beard! Mr. Jones thought he knew his voice—"
"What!" cried Mrs. Berryman. "It couldn't have been—no, of course it
couldn't—he wouldn't come without writing—he—"
She paused in the midst of her incoherent speech, and, turning to the
table, took up the tumbler and drank from it. Then she addressed Melina
again.
"Go to bed," she said; "do you hear what I say? Go to bed."
Melina left the kitchen and went upstairs to her own room. She was not
very hungry, for, as Mr. Jones had remarked, she had made a good tea,
so she did not mind being kept without supper. She undressed herself in
the dark, and then knelt down in her night-gown by her bedside to pray:
she never went to bed without praying now, for she had learnt to feel
that God was really her friend—a tender, loving Father, who cared for
her and to whom she could tell all that was in her heart. She had only
just finished her prayers when she heard her grandmother's footsteps on
the stairs, and, springing hastily to her feet, she jumped into bed.
A minute later Mrs. Berryman opened the door and looked in; she was
carrying the hand-lamp she had used in the kitchen.
"Are you in bed, child?" she inquired.
"Yes, Gran," Melina answered, adding timidly, for she was always afraid
of the old woman if she had been drinking, "Good night."
"Good night," Mrs. Berryman said; then she went to her own room.
The little girl drew a breath of relief. When Mrs. Jones had asked
her if she was tired she had answered, as she thought, truthfully in
saying she was not; but now she discovered that she was really very
weary—doubtless excitement had kept her from feeling so before. She
closed her eyes and tried to sleep; but though her limbs ached with
fatigue, her mind was still on the alert. In imagination she went over
the delightful experiences of the day and listened to the mysterious
murmur of the sea.
"I've been so happy, so very, very happy," she thought, "but now it
is all over. It was dreadful coming back to Gran—to find she had been
drinking again. Oh, what must the Joneses think of her! But there, they
know what she is!"
Then she remembered all William Jones had said to her about her
grandmother; she had scarcely thought of it during the day; and a
great sense of shame filled her heart, and she burst into tears. She
wept bitterly until, at length, thoroughly worn out, she fell into a
deep, dreamless sleep, from which, some while later, she awoke with
the feeling that something was wrong. She sat up in bed, coughing, to
find the room full of smoke. With a cry of horror she realised what was
amiss. The house was on fire.