The six months which followed Jeffreys' introduction into the classical
atmosphere of Galloway House passed uneventfully for him, and not
altogether unpleasantly. He had, it is true, the vision of young
Forrester always in his mind, to drag him down, whenever he dwelt upon
it, into the bitterest dejection; and he had the active spite and
insolence of Jonah Trimble daily to try his temper and tax his patience.
Otherwise he was comfortable. Mrs Trimble, finding him steady and
quiet, treated him kindly when she had her own way, and indifferently
when her son was with her. The boys of the second class maintained the
mysterious respect they had conceived for him on the day of his arrival,
and gave him wonderfully little trouble or difficulty.
He had his evenings for the most part to himself, and even succeeded,
after something like a battle-royal with the Trimbles, in carrying his
point of having one "evening out" in the week. It nearly cost him his
situation, and it nearly cost Jonah a bone-shaking before the question
was settled. But Jeffreys could be stubborn when he chose, and stood
out grimly on this point. Had it not been for this weekly respite,
Galloway House would have become intolerable before a month was over.
He heard occasionally from Mr Frampton; but the one question which
would have interested him most was generally passed over. Mr Frampton
probably considered that any reference to Forrester would be painful to
his correspondent, and therefore avoided it. At last, however, in reply
to Jeffreys' entreaty to know where the boy was and how he was
progressing, the head-master wrote:--
"I really cannot tell you what you want to know about Forrester, as I
have heard nothing of him. His father, as you know, is an officer in
India, and his only relative in England was his grandmother, to whose
house at Grangerham he was removed on leaving here. The last I heard
was a month after he had left here, when he was reported still to be
lingering. His grandmother, so I heard, was very ill. He himself, as a
last hope, was to be removed to a hospital (I could not hear which) to
receive special treatment. Since then--which is five months ago--I have
heard nothing, and my last letter to Grangerham was returned by the
Dead-Letter Office. I wish I could tell you more. You may depend on my
doing so should I hear of him again," etc.
It is hardly to be wondered at after this that poor Jeffreys felt the
weight upon him heavier than ever. As long as he had known where
Forrester was, and had the hope of hearing from time to time how he
fared, he had been able to buoy himself up with the hope of some day
making up to his victim for the injury he had inflicted; but when,
suddenly, Forrester dropped hopelessly out of his life, the burden of
his conscience grew intolerable.
He struggled hard, by devoting himself to his boys and by hard private
study in his leisure hours, to drive the haunting memory away, but the
effort succeeded only for a time. At night, as he lay in bed, unable to
escape from himself, the vision of that pale face and that cry of terror
hardly once left him till merciful sleep came to his rescue. And by
day, when his small pupils vexed him, or the spiteful Jonah tempted him
to revenge, the thought of Forrester cowed him into submission, and left
him no choice but to endure what seemed to be his penance.
"Ma," said Mrs Trimble's hopeful, one afternoon after school had
closed, "you've been nicely taken in over that Jeffreys, I can tell
you."
"What!" said the lady. "He doesn't drink, does he?"
"Don't know. But there's something queer about him, and I mean to find
it out. I'm not going to let it go on, I can tell you."
"Why, what's he been doing, Jonah?"
"Doing? You must go about with your eyes shut if you don't see he's
been sulking ever since he came here. I tell you there's something
wrong."
"Oh, don't say that, Jonah."
"You never took a character with him, did you?"
"No; he hadn't been in a place before."
"Depend on it, ma, he's skulking. He's done something, and finds this a
convenient place to hide away in."
"But, Jonah, he's never shown any signs of not being all right. He's
very kind to the boys, and keeps them in wonderful order, better than
you do almost."
Jonah did not like this, because he knew it was true. His boys were
neither fond of him nor obedient to his control, and the fact that
Jeffreys' boys were both was additional proof that there was something
wrong.
"Do you suppose he can't manage to take you in, ma? Of course, any one
could."
"But he makes himself very pleasant, and studies, and keeps very quiet
out of school."
"Of course. Isn't that what I tell you? He's hiding. What do you
suppose he skulks away into town for once a week--eh?"
"Not to drink, I do hope?" said the lady.
"Whatever it is, I mean to get to the bottom of it, for the sake of the
school," said Jonah. "Fancy the mess we'd get into if it got known we
had a shady character here as a teacher!"
"But, Jonah, dear, it's only suspicion. He may be all right."
"Oh, anything _may_ be," retorted the philosophic Jonah. "The thing
is--is it?"
As Mrs Trimble was unable to answer this question, she retired from the
discussion, and hoped devoutly nothing was going to happen which would
necessitate her doing more work about the school than she at present
did.
The unconscious Jeffreys meanwhile was upstairs, washing himself before
starting for his weekly "evening out." He had more than usual before
him on this particular evening, as, besides calling at the post-office--
an errand he never missed--he had discovered another old bookshop across
the river which kept open till seven o'clock. And after that he had
promised Freddy and Teddy, with whom from the first he had kept up a
warm friendship, to call up at their house and help them mend their
tricycle. With this full programme before him, he lost no time in
starting on his travels; little dreaming that the quick pace at which he
strode along gave unwonted exercise to Mr Jonah Trimble, who, animated
by an amiable curiosity, dogged his footsteps at a respectful distance.
It was about five o'clock when Jeffreys reached the post-office. The
clerk knew him by this time, and this evening handed him a letter
without being asked. It was a short friendly line from Mr Frampton
with no news--at any rate about Forrester; and Trimble, as he watched
him emerge from the office, letter in hand, and haggard in face, chalked
down in in his own mind a first clue as to the mystery that was
exercising him.
From the post-office Jeffreys strolled leisurely down the streets toward
the bridge, stopping to look into some of the shops by the way, and
occasionally making Trimble's heart jump by looking behind him.
In due time he pulled up at the bookseller's shop. Trimble saw the
proprietor welcome his visitor with a nod which bespoke an acquaintance
of some standing. He saw Jeffreys turning over the contents of some of
the trays, taking up a book now and then and examining it, and sometimes
propping himself up against the doorpost and reading page after page.
It was not very entertaining work for the spy; but curiosity is patient,
and Jonah as he watched the unconscious reader at a safe distance
fortified himself by the conviction that he was watching the working-out
of some deep-laid plot.
Presently he saw Jeffreys disappear into the shop, and what was his
amazement, when presently he "casually" passed the door, to see him
seated with the bookseller at a table earnestly poring over and
discussing a small faded sheet of paper which lay between them! Trimble
would have given worlds to know what the mysterious document was, and
what villainy was brewing. Had he known it, he might not have stood out
there in the evening air quite as patiently as he did. For the
mysterious document happened to be nothing but an old tattered and torn
Commonwealth tract which Jeffreys had discovered folded up between the
leaves of an ancient volume of poetry, and which he and his friend the
bookseller were spending a very agreeable half-hour in piecing together
and deciphering.
About seven o'clock Jeffreys rose to go, pocketing the precious relic,
which his friend had given him; and Trimble, having carefully noted down
the name of the shop and the personal appearance of the suspicious
bookseller, followed gingerly back across the bridge. The streets were
getting less crowded, and Jonah had increasing difficulty in keeping
himself concealed as he crawled along on the opposite side of the way
some thirty or forty yards in the rear of his man.
Just as Jeffreys was crossing the space opposite the grand front of the
minster a dog sprang forward to meet him with every token of joy. It
was Julius, and Jeffreys knew that the master could not be very far
away. He turned round for a moment, as though he meditated flight, and
gave Jonah a spasm by the unexpected movement. But before he could
decide Mr Halgrove strolled pleasantly round the corner, and nodded to
him as if he and his ward had not parted five minutes before.
"Ah, John, fine evening for a stroll. On your way home?"
Mr Halgrove till that moment had not had the faintest idea that his
ward was still in York.
"No," said Jeffreys, patting the dog's head and looking very much the
reverse of comfortable.
"They say the front of the minster is beginning to crumble at places,"
said Mr Halgrove, looking up at the noble pile before them; "I hope
it's not true. Are you much here?"
"No. I live in another part of the town."
"Very odd my meeting you," said Mr Halgrove. "I was thinking of you
only to-day. I had a letter from Mr Frampton."
"Indeed, sir--about Forrester?"
"About--oh, your little victim? Oddly enough, it was not. It was to
remind me that your last half-term's fees were not paid. Don't you
think it would be judicious to clear up this little score? Looks bad,
you know--to run away with score against you."
Jeffrey's face turned pale. He had at least supposed that up to the
time of his expulsion from his guardian's house Mr Halgrove would have
considered himself responsible for his maintenance.
"I never dreamt," he faltered. "How much is it?"
"Quite a little sum, isn't it? Come, you were last at school. Too bad
to pose me with compound division at my time of life. Half a term at
£40 a year?"
"Seven pounds!" gasped Jeffreys.
"Not quite, £6 13 shillings, 4 pence. Fancy my being better at mental
arithmetic than you!"
"I haven't got any money. I only get a pound a month and my board."
"My dear boy, I congratulate you. Twelve pounds a year! Now, wasn't it
a pity you didn't take that £5 note I offered you? Suppose you take it
now!"
Mr Halgrove put his hand to his pocket and took out his purse.
"No!" exclaimed Jeffreys, in a tone that made Trimble, who was busy
engaged in inspecting the architecture of the minster from behind a deep
buttress close to the speaker, jump--"I'd sooner die!"
"Don't do that, my dear fellow, don't do that," said Mr Halgrove, with
a smile which belied the anger he felt at the refusal; "rather than that
I'll keep the money. I have no wish to commit a murder. It's not in my
line. That's one point in which you and I differ, isn't it?"
Jeffreys made as though he would spring upon him. What was it checked
him? Was it the solemn minster--was it a dread of his guardian's
superior strength--was it fear of punishment? Or was it a momentary
glimpse of a pale face in a moonlit room far away, which took the spirit
out of him and made his arm drop at his side?
"Well, I won't keep you," said Mr Halgrove, who had also for a moment
looked uneasy. "I dare say you are in a hurry like myself. The fact
is, I am going a trip to America next week and have a good deal to
attend to. That makes me doubly glad to have met you. Good-bye, my
dear boy, good-bye. Come, Julius."
Julius as he slunk off at his master's heels, and heard the smothered
oath which escaped Mr Halgrove's lips as soon as he found himself
alone, looked round wistfully and pitifully, and wished he were allowed
to go where he pleased.
Jeffreys walked on like a man in a dream. For six months he had been
working out what had been to him a penance, hoping to live down his bad
name, even if he could never win a good.
But now in a moment it seemed as if the labour of those patient months
had been dashed to the ground, and his guardian's bitter words branded
themselves on his heart as he paced on out of the shadow of the noble
minster into the dusk of the city.
Trimble, nearly bursting with excitement--for he had overheard all the
latter part of the conversation--crept after him. What a time he was
having!
Jeffreys bent his steps almost aimlessly out of the city into the
country beyond. It was only half-past seven, and Teddy and Freddy were
expecting him. He had not the heart to fail them, though he would
gladly have remained solitary that evening. The Roshers lived in a
small cottage some distance down the lane in which six months ago
Jeffreys had first encountered the sunshine of their presence. How long
ago it seemed now! Ah! that was the very bank on which he sat; and
there beyond was the railway embankment at which the navvies were
working, now finished and with the grass growing up its sides.
Trimble's little heart jumped to his mouth as he saw the man he was
following stop abruptly and begin to climb the bank. He was too close
behind to be able to turn back. All he could do was to crouch down in
the ditch and "lie low." He heard Jeffreys as he gained the top of the
bank sigh wearily; then he seemed to be moving as if in search of a
particular spot; and then the lurker's hair stood on end as he heard the
words, hoarsely spoken,--
"It was this very place."
What a day Jonah was having! After a quarter of an hour's pause, during
which the patient Jonah got nearly soaked to the skin in his watery
hiding-place, Jeffreys roused himself and descended into the lane. Any
one less abstracted could not have failed to detect the scared face of
the spy shining out like a white rag from the hedge. But Jeffreys
heeded nothing and strode on to Ash Cottage.
Long before he got there, Freddy and Teddy, who had been on the look-out
for him for an hour, scampered down to meet him.
"Hurrah, Jeff!" shouted Teddy (I grieve to say that these irreverent
brethren had long ago fallen into the scandalous habit of calling their
teacher by a familiar contraction of his proper name, nor had the master
rebuked them). "Hurrah, Jeff! we were afraid you weren't coming."
"The tricycle won't go," said Freddy; "we've pulled it all to bits, and
tried to make it right with a hammer, but it's very bad."
"It's glorious you've come to do it. Isn't Jeff a brick, Teddy?"
"Rather--and, oh, did you bring any oil? We used all ours up."
"We've got a screw-driver, though!" said Freddy.
"And lots of string!" shouted Teddy.
"You _are_ a brick to come and do it," shouted both.
Where in the world is there a tonic equal to the laugh of a light-
hearted grateful little boy? How could Jeffreys help forgetting his
trouble for a time and devoting himself heart and soul to the business
of that tricycle? Trimble, as he dodged along after them perplexed and
puffing, could hardly believe his eyes as he saw his morose colleague
suddenly throw off the burden that was on him and become gay.
"Come along, little chaps--let's see what we can do," said Jeffreys, as
the three strode out to the cottage. "Where is he?"
"In the shed. We've got a candle."
Trimble saw them disappear into the garden, and, guided by their cheery
voices, soon discovered the back of the shed in which the momentous
surgical operation was to take place. It backed on the road, and might
have been built for Trimble's purpose. For the woodwork abounded in
most convenient cracks, through which a spy might peep and listen
luxuriously. What a day Jonah was having!
The Roshers conducted their friend into the place like anxious relatives
who conduct a physician into a sick-chamber. The poor patient lay on
the floor in a very bad way. Two wheels were off, the axle was bent,
the wire spokes were twisted, the saddle was off, and the brake was all
over the place.
Jeffreys shook his head and looked grave.
"It's a bad job," said he.
"You see, we were giving mother a ride on it, and she's too heavy--
especially going downhill. She thought we were holding it, but it got
away. We yelled to her to put on the brake, but she didn't, and it went
bang into the wall."
"And your mother?" inquired Jeffreys, somewhat anxiously.
"Oh, her face is much better now. The doctor says there'll be hardly
any marks left after all."
It was a long business putting the unlucky tricycle in order. Jeffreys
was not a mechanic. All he could do was to put the parts together in a
makeshift way, and by straightening some of the bent parts and greasing
some of the stiff parts restore the iron horse into a gloomy semblance
of his old self.
The boys were as grateful and delighted as if he had constructed a new
machine out of space; and when at last a trial trip demonstrated that at
any rate the wheels would go round and the saddle would carry them,
their hearts overflowed.
"You are a real brick, Jeff," said Teddy; "I wish I could give you a
hundred pounds!"
"I don't want a hundred pounds," said Jeffreys, with a smile; "if you
and Freddy and I are good friends, that's worth a lot more to me."
"Why?" demanded Freddy; "are we the only friends you've got?"