HIS NEW HOME.
Bobby's eyes blinked nervously at his father's words. A 'new mother'
had never been in his calculations at all. A mother of any sort meant
very little to him; he had never come across one, and vaguely put them
in the same category as his grandmother and aunt. He clung hold of his
father's hand tightly, and then the door was opened, and Bobby's brain
received the first impression of cosy warmth and comfort, which never
faded from him in after-life. The room was small compared with his
grandmother's rooms, but, oh! so different. There was a tiny fire
blazing in the grate, a little black-and-white terrier lay basking on
the hearthrug, a lamp in a corner of the room, covered by a
rose-coloured shade, shed its light on a pretty pink and white chintz
couch underneath it, and upon this couch, leaning back amongst pink
cushions, was Bobby's stepmother. True was already sitting upon a
footstool, and her head was in her lap, her mother was stroking back
her hair gently and tenderly. Mrs. Allonby looked to most people a
mere laughing high-spirited girl, with wonderful black hair and
mischievous face and eyes, but that was generally the side she showed
to outsiders. To her husband and child there was deep, never-dying
love in her looks and tones; and Bobby caught a glimpse of this, small
boy as he was, when she turned her face towards her husband.
'Come along, wanderer, and confess! Have you been guilty of stealing,
and where is your prize? Oh, what a little darling!'
She opened her arms to Bobby, and True made way for him. Bobby found
himself smothered with kisses; he was shy no longer, for he felt the
atmosphere of love around him.
Standing, with his hand in his stepmother's, he heard his father
telling his story, and all the time his eyes were roaming round the
room taking everything in with admiration and delight. There was a
canary in a cage, a globe of goldfish, bowls of pink and white roses,
pictures and books, comfortable easy-chairs, and in the corner a
delicious-looking table, spread with a white cloth and shining silver,
with a large dish of strawberries in the centre, a junket, and a
rich-looking plum-cake. Then his eyes came back to his stepmother.
She was clad in a white gown, but a crimson wrapper round her seemed to
match in colour the roses pinned to her breast, and her cheeks vied
with them in hue.
'And so you have kidnapped your own little son! And he himself helped
you to do it! How can you leave your dear old granny, my boy? She has
loved you and cared for you all these years. Is it kind to run away
from her?'
Bobby looked up wonderingly.
'I couldn't never be kind to grandmother,' he said; 'she wouldn't like
it. And it's only fathers who love anybodies; Nurse told me they
always did.'
'And not mothers? Ah! you poor little atom, I forgot that you have not
known your mother.'
'How's the back?' asked Mr. Allonby, looking at his wife with a smile.
'Oh! very good to-day; I've been following you in thought all the time.
You see, Bobby, I have to lie here on my back, and my truant and
wanderer go out to seek adventures, and come back and amuse me by
telling me all they have seen and heard. Then I mend them up, and send
them out again, and that's how we spend our life.'
'Motherums hasn't always lived on her back,' put in True eagerly. 'She
used to gallop everywhere on a lov-elly black horse till she got her
fall. That was a dre'fful day!'
'So "dre'fful" that we will never talk of it,' said Mrs. Allonby
quickly. 'Now, True, darling, take Bobby to Margot, and she will get a
comfy bed for him in dad's dressing-room. And when he is quite tucked
up in it he shall have a basin of bread and milk and go fast asleep
till to-morrow morning, for I'm sure it is long past his proper
bedtime.'
Bobby looked longingly towards the table, and Mrs. Allonby noted it.
'That is for father only; he is going to have some hot meat directly;
but I think he can spare you six strawberries. True, you can have six
too. Bring a plate over here and eat them together.'
So the two children sat down on the rug together, and Bobby felt he
would like to stay there all night. But a little later, when he was
going upstairs to bed, he felt very sleepy, and his head had not been
upon his pillow for five minutes before he was fast asleep.
He was wakened the next morning by True's voice.
'Oh, do wake up! We've had breakfast already. And oh! you funny boy,
you've got your walking-stick in bed with you.'
Bobby resented her tone.
'It isn't a stick, it's Nobbles,' he said. 'Me and Nobbles always
sleep together.'
He fingered Nobbles' red cap lovingly, then held him out for True's
inspection.
'He comed from over the sea. He's really alive, though he never
speaks; but he finks a lot, and whispers to me, but nobody but me can
hear him.'
True gazed at Nobbles' smiling face with fascination.
'What does he tell you?' she asked.
Bobby's slow smile came.
'He told me last night he liked this house very much; and--he ran away
from me in the night--he very often does--he goes up the chimleys, and
the wind takes him journeys. He went to the House to see how Nurse was
getting on.'
'Did he? To your grandmother's house? What did she say?'
Bobby considered.
'She said to Nurse, "I reely can't be troubled with the child, Nurse;
it's your place to look after him."'
'And what did your nurse say?'
'She wented down to the kitchen and ate some apple tart. And then
Nobbles said he came away "'cause nobody wanted me back," and I'm never
going to leave my father no more!'
'Dad is going to see your grandmother now. Motherums told him he ought
to. Do get up and come and see my rabbits. Oh! Here is Margot!'
Margot appeared with a breakfast tray, and Bobby lay still and ate an
egg and some bread and butter with relish.
'The mistress said you was not to be called, for you were tired out,'
said Margot, by way of explanation. 'And when you've had your bath,
and dressed, you can go to her room and see her. Can you dress
yourself?'
'I'm nearly sure I can,' said Bobby bravely.
But he was forced to let Margot assist him more than once; and when
ready at last, paused before leaving the room, looking up into her face
with a little uncertainty and doubt.
'Do you think they'll all like me here?' he said.
'Bless the child, this be a real home to everyone, though it be small.
I've been with the mistress for twenty years. She were a wild slip of
a girl when I took service out in 'Merica. She lost her mother when
she were eight, and I mothered her after, for her father were a proper
ne'er-do-weel, and were always moving from one ranch to another. Miss
Helen took after her mother, and got everyone's love. And then her
father got her to marry a rich old settler, so that some of his debts
might be paid, and he died within a twelvemonth of the marriage, and
Miss Helen kept the property together and did for her father till he
broke his neck riding an unbroken horse, and Miss True was all the bit
of comfort she had left. She could have married over and over scores
of times; but not she; till Mr. Allonby found Miss True one day and
brought her home, and then I knew how things would end. And when she
would gallop off with him on her big horse, with her laugh and jest, I
little thought she'd ever live to lie on her back and never move again.'
The old woman paused. Bobby had not been following her. He only
repeated the question, which was an all-important one to him:
'Will they be sure to like me?'
'The mistress has the biggest heart in the world, my dear, and the
master never says a cross word to nobody!'
Bobby felt cheered by her tone, and his doubts utterly vanished when he
was held in the close clasp of his stepmother.
'We are going to keep you, Bobby, and I must be prepared to see two
small children go off every day with my Wanderer. We are going to make
this summer a holiday, to build up and strengthen your father, who has
been very ill, and next winter, if we are spared, we must all set to
work in earnest. Lessons and school for the little ones, real hard
writing for your father and me. Now, darling, True is calling to you
from the garden. Run out to her, and the air and sunshine will bring
colour into those pale cheeks of yours.'
'Me and Nobbles likes to be darlings,' Bobby informed True a short time
afterwards. 'We aren't darlings with Nurse or grandmother.'
When his father returned, Bobby approached him, almost trembling to
hear his fate.
'Well, little chap,' Mr. Allonby said, 'it has been rather a stormy
scene, but I've got you for good and all. And if I had known your
grandmother considered children such a trouble I never would have left
you with her all this time. Your nurse is going to drive over this
afternoon and wish you good-bye. She will bring your clothes. Do you
think you will get on with us without a nurse? We are very poor folk,
you know, until I write this big book of travels that is going to bring
us fame and money, and then--well, you ask True what will happen.'
Bobby smiled contentedly. Things had not turned out quite according to
his expectations, but he was well pleased to have a little playfellow
in True, and though she adopted a slightly superior and motherly air
with him, she was a deferential listener to any of Nobbles' exploits.
She had no difficulty in believing that he was alive; in fact she was
quite ready to explain his existence in a manner quite new to Bobby.
'You see,' she said, 'a wicked fairy must have turned him into a stick.
He really was a very brave good prince, but he set free a beautiful
princess, who had been a prisoner in the wicked fairy's house, and the
way he did it was dressing in her clothes and staying behind while she
put on his and rode away. Then the wicked fairy was so angry when she
found out the trick that she turned him into a stick and said he must
stay like it till someone broke the spell.'
'What's a spell?' asked Bobby.
'Oh, there are lots of spells. The sleeping beauty was in one, you
know. The spell was that she would sleep till a prince kissed her.
What we've got to do is to find out the spell for Nobbles, and when we
do the right thing to him he'll wake up, and come alive, and be a
prince again.'
Bobby thought over this with a perplexed brow.
'But then he might ride away from me to find the princess, and I should
be 'fraid of a grand prince. I like Nobbles best like he is!'
'Oh, but wouldn't you like him to be able to run about and take off his
little red cap and bow? He wouldn't be any bigger you know; he comes
from a country where they are all very tiny, and perhaps he will have
forgotten all about the princess and will like to stay with you best.'
'I'll ask him to-night when we're in bed all about it. He'll be sure
to tell me.'
And Bobby's face brightened at the thought. After all, Nobbles
belonged to him, not to True, and if he didn't choose him to be a
prince he need not be one.
Bobby's interview with Nurse was rather a trying one. He could hardly
understand why he should be blamed.
'You knewed my father would come one day, Nurse. I had been expecking
him every day, and of course I belongs to him, and I had to go after
him. I was so 'fraid I might lose him again. And I can go all over
father's house and sit in every room, and I've got a new mother and a
little girl to play with, and they calls me "darling!"'
Then Nurse astonished him by clasping him in her arms and bursting into
tears.
'I never thought you'd have left me. I've been as fond of you as if
you'd been my own child. It's put me terrible about, losing you so
sudden. Why, I meant to stay with you till you went to school.'
Bobby began to get tearful at once. He had a tender little heart, and
to see Nurse cry was a great calamity. He was honestly sorry to part
with her; but his father filled his heart, and, childlike, the new
scenes and life around him were entirely engrossing him.
When Nurse had gone he was called to his father, who was sitting with
his stepmother. True was still playing in the garden.
'I feel I must make acquaintance with my small son,' Mr. Allonby said,
perching him on his knee.
'How is it you have thought such a lot about me?'
'I always knewed you would be nice,' said Bobby, with a slow shake of
his head. 'I knewed fathers were.'
'How many fathers have you known?'
'Only God,' said Bobby, simply and reverently. 'He is my other Father,
isn't He? And He's always good and kind to me.'
Mr. Allonby exchanged glances with his wife.
'You are a little character, I see. Tell me more. Are you a very good
little boy?'
'Nurse says no boys are ever good,' said Bobby, not seeing the twinkle
in his father's eye. 'I s'pose when I get to be a father I shall be.'
Mr. Allonby began to laugh. His wife shook her head at him.
Bobby knitted his brows, then turned questioner.
'Did you fink I would be like what I am, father?'
His tone was anxious. He added hurriedly:
'I'm not a baby now, I can walk miles and miles, and I'm going to dress
myself all alone to-morrow.'
'That's right. I want my son to be plucky and independent and
honourable. If you're that sort I shall be quite satisfied. What do
you say, Helen?'
Mrs. Allonby looked at Bobby rather tenderly.
'I don't think he needs to be very independent yet,' she said.
'What does it mean?' asked Bobby. 'And what does honourable mean?
It's plucky when you hurt yourself and don't cry, isn't it?'
'Independent is doing things for yourself and standing alone.
Honourable is everything a gentleman ought to be--truthful, honest, and
straight, with right thoughts about everything. I think you're plucky.
You're not afraid of anything, I hope.'
Bobby did not answer for a minute. He had heard enough to fill his
small brain with fresh thought.
'I'm not afraid of anybody if I have Nobbles with me,' he said.
His father laughed again, then put him off his knee.
'I have letters to write. Run away now and play with True.'
So Bobby went, revolving many things in his mind. And an hour later,
when he was getting tired of romping with True, he sat down on the
grass underneath an apple-tree.
'I like Nobbles to be good,' he confided to True; 'but I'm 'fraid he
can't be ind'pendent. He's plucky, he's afraid of nobody, and loves to
give anyone a good beating; and he's quite, quite straight, so he's
hon'rable, but he can't stand alone, or do things for himself.'
'Can't he? You give him to me. I'll make him stand up.'
True had seized hold of Nobbles and stuck him triumphantly two inches
into the ground, where he stood smiling at them.
Bobby did not approve of this treatment.
'You're not to touch him. He doesn't belong to you.'
'He's only a stick!'
True's tone was scornful. For the first time Bobby began to feel angry
with her.
'He's my Nobbles, and I like him much better than you.'
He hugged his stick and walked off. True pursued him.
'He's only a stick,' she repeated. 'I could break him in half if I
tried!'
'You're a horrid girl, and I wish my father would send you away. You
don't belong to him and me at all!'
'You don't belong to us!' cried True excitedly. 'Dad and me always
goes out together, and we'll leave you behind. We don't want you at
all. We was ever so happy before you came. You'd better go back to
that old House of yours. We don't want you!'
It takes so little to make a quarrel. Fiery little True rushed into
her mother in a passion of tears, declaring that she hated Bobby and
would never play with him again; and Bobby was found some minutes later
by Margot lying face downwards in the garden crying as if his heart
would break.
'I'll never be happy again. She says I don't belong here,' he sobbed.
Peace was made at last, for Margot took him straight into Mrs. Allonby,
who talked to both children as only she could talk, lovingly, gently,
but very firmly. When girl and boy were both safely tucked away in bed
that night, she said to her husband:
'Oh, Frank, shall we have a divided house?'
'Never!' he said cheerfully. 'Both these youngsters have had things
their own way. Now they will have to give and take, and it will do
them each a power of good.'
She smiled, and her anxious look disappeared.
'If we are of one mind it will be easy,' she said.
And her husband replied:
'Your mind and will rule this household, darling. I shall leave my
boy's training to you.'