MISS NELLY BURFORD GIVES HER OPINION,
AND MISS FLINT ENDORSES IT.
I MUST go back a little and relate an incident which occurred at the
beginning of my independent career as a railway clerk at Oakhill
Station, and whilst Miss Dorothy Flint was the guest of Mrs. Burford.
I had duly paid the six months' interest owing to my relative; that
is, I had left the amount in Mr. Burford's hands for Miss Flint, and
had subsequently received a formal acknowledgment thereof, signed by
herself. But she had not stepped out of her way to see or speak to
the orphan-lad who was her own near relation, and I resolved to make
no attempt to attract her notice. I heard of her, however, from Nelly
Burford.
My little wife of old resembled her father more than her mother in
disposition. When Mrs. Burford's fiat went forth that I was no more to
be received as a guest under her roof, the girl raised her voice in
angry protest.
"Jack has done nothing wrong. Dear old Jack, who has been like a
brother to Rose and me, always! It would be a shame to turn our backs
on him, and only because he is poor. It is a great deal harder for
him, too, as he always expected to be rich, and for us to make it
worse still by being unkind! It would be a horribly mean thing to do.
Everybody would talk about it, for they know how you, mamma, were never
right without Jack, and seemed jealous if he went anywhere else. But
you cannot mean it. Say you were only joking—do, mamma, dear," added
the girl at the close of her vehement appeal, which Mrs. Burford vainly
tried to check.
"I am quite in earnest, Ellen," she replied severely. "You are not
qualified to judge in such matters. I must and will keep my children
from objectionable society."
"But you always praised Jack, and said he was so truthful and upright
and gentlemanly, and that he would be so rich," persisted the girl.
Mrs. Burford's face was aflame at these last words, for Miss Flint was
present, and there was a wicked look of enjoyment on her countenance as
she calmly took in all that passed.
"Well, there is no question of John Simpson's being rich now," she
said. "His reckless gambling father has taken care of that. I have
always spoken against gambling, and I consider reckless speculation to
be gambling in one of its worst forms. 'Like father, like son,' is a
proverb of which every day proves the wisdom. What can be expected from
a lad who has had such an example?"
"Why, poor Jack knew nothing of his father's affairs; papa says so.
One day he believed that he was heir of Lint Hall, and a great deal
of money besides; the next he knew that he could not even go back to
school, because his father was dead, and there was nothing left for
him."
"We know all that, Ellen. Do be quiet. It cannot be very agreeable to
Miss Flint to hear you speak of these things," said Mrs. Burford.
"But I dare say she will like to hear what papa says about Jack. He is
your cousin, you know, Miss Flint, though he is so poor. My father says
he never saw any one meet a great reverse so bravely, and that many a
grown-up man might learn a lesson from his example. He is willing to
work in any way, and he is honest, self-denying, and true. Father says
he hopes Jack will live to buy Lint Hall back again."
"He buy Lint Hall back! A likely story!" And Mrs. Burford gave a
mocking laugh. "I think if John Simpson had possessed one grain of
proper pride, instead of staying in a neighbourhood where his father's
doings and his own changed position were matters of common talk, he
would have hid himself anywhere, or gone to America or Australia. His
presence can only be a source of annoyance to you, dear Miss Flint. It
must be a trial to you to think that your cousin is giving out tickets
at Oakhill Station."
Mrs. Burford had gone a little too far. Miss Flint's spirit of
contradiction was roused by these remarks, and she answered in a severe
tone—
"Mr. Simpson may have lost his money, but I am not aware that there was
anything disgraceful in that. If he had been a speculative rogue, it
is probable he would have been a buyer of estates in place of losing
his own. It is a great pity that Lint Hall should have gone out of the
family, and that my cousin's son should be a railway clerk. But, at any
rate, his father risked what belonged to himself, not other people's
money, and the lad may turn out all the better man for knowing the
value of what he gets by the work it has cost him. As to proper pride,
there is no such thing; pride is detestable always, and if my young
cousin Jack had any, he has done a wise thing in pocketing or burying
it. Do not suppose that I shall faint if I see my relative on the inner
side of the aperture through which my ticket is handed. Not I. Dorothy
Flint has not lived to be sixty without having got over nonsense of
that kind."
Mrs. Burford could not afford to quarrel with Miss Flint. She was an
important client, a ready payer, for she was satisfied with her lawyer;
and who knew but what some of her wealth might flow into the pockets of
his children? She could leave it to whom she chose, and why not to the
youthful Burfords?
"Still, my dear Miss Flint, it can hardly be a pleasant thing for
you to see John Simpson in such a position. Poor relations are not
desirable things, as I know by experience, for we have quite a number
on my husband's mother's side, and they are always wanting help in some
way or other;" and Mrs. Burford sighed audibly.
"Ah! They often want a good deal more than they can get, no doubt,"
responded Miss Flint calmly. "I will tell you a little story for your
comfort, my dear. A friend of mine was, like yourself, plagued with
applications for help from a crowd of poor relations. He groaned and
grumbled every time his letter-bag was opened, and said hard things
about his impecunious kindred, whom, however, he did not help. He
had been holding forth at greater length and with more than usual
bitterness one morning, in the presence of a jovial guest who was
similarly placed to himself.
"'I have a remedy for such troubles,' said the latter.
"'What is it?' asked the grumbler eagerly.
"'I just say to myself, there are tops and bottoms in every family, and
it is better to be at the top than the bottom.'
"Now, this," continued Miss Flint, "is what I say to myself, and I tell
the tale for your benefit, seeing it will be more consoling to you than
to me. I have but one poor relation, and that is Jack Simpson, and he
certainly does not seem inclined to trouble me or anybody else, so long
as he has head and hands to work for himself. Instead of coming to me
for money, he paid me one pound two and six a short time since, when he
had no occasion to do so, reckless youngster that he is! He will know
better in time."
"Ah! No doubt he had a motive in paying you that money," rejoined Mrs.
Burford.
"I am sure of it," said Miss Flint, with emphasis. "There is great
comfort, however, in knowing that I can see through Jack Simpson's
designs, and that I can at any time get rid of my only poor relation."
"How?" asked Mrs. Burford. "Do, dear Miss Flint, give me your recipe."
"By giving him as much of my property as would make it impossible to
call him poor," was the prompt reply. And having made it, Miss Flint
marched off triumphantly to her own room to write letters.
It was Nelly Burford who told me all this, when we met quite
accidentally one day. She added, "Mamma was vexed at Miss Flint, but
she durst not say anything. She never knows whether your cousin is in
jest or earnest, and she is terrified of offending her. I know she went
on so about you, Jack, because she thought it would please Miss Flint,
and then she fancied she had gone too far, and was quite uncomfortable
for ever so long after. I was naughty enough to be glad, though it was
my own mamma who got the worst of it, as she always does with that
clever old lady. It cannot be so very wicked, though, Jack, because my
father is very fond of you, and never loses a chance of saying kind
things about you. He would like you to come the same as you used to do.
It is all mamma's fault that you are driven away."
I knew that already, but I did not tell Nelly how much I had felt her
mother's conduct. I only said, "It is better so. If I were coming in
and out in the old way, I might indulge in useless regrets. The dead
past must bury its dead, and Jack Simpson, the clerk, must forget that
he ever had any prospects, and try to carve out a future for himself.
Tell me one thing; are you going to live at Lint Hall?"
"No, and I am glad of it," said Nelly. "Mamma wants to go there, but
papa is firm as a rock about that. He says our house is large enough
and good enough for a country lawyer.
"And when mamma said, 'Why did you buy the place, then? Not to look at,
I suppose,' he said, 'To let, until Jack Simpson can buy it back again.'
"I think he enjoyed the joke, though mamma got quite angry. And now,
Jack, I want you to take something from me. My grandfather always gives
me a five-pound note on my birthday. I was fifteen last week, and I did
think you would have sent me a card."
I interrupted the dear girl to say, "You were not forgotten, Nelly. On
your birthday morning I awoke very early, and my first words were, 'I
wish Nelly Burford many happy returns of this day. May God bless her,
and give her everything to make this new year of life a very happy
one.'"
"I am glad of that, Jack dear. Thank you. Now, see, I have changed the
note, and I have carried the five sovereigns about with me ever since,
on purpose for you. I thought I should never meet you, but here you are
at last, and you must take the money and pop it into your pocket quick."
I was touched to the very heart as Nelly tried to put the gold into my
hand, her bright young face all aglow with pleasure that she had it to
offer, and without a shade of regret in thinking of the pretty things
it would have bought for her own use.
"Really, Nelly, you are too kind and generous," I said. "Such true,
warm hearts as yours make poverty delightful, for they show that riches
and friendship do not always take flight in company. I cannot thank you
as I ought."
"I do not want any thanks, Jack. You will please me best by pocketing
the money, and letting me run away as quickly as I can, for fear of
getting scolded. I have already been out too long, for I dawdled on the
road in the hope of seeing you."
"But, Nelly dear, I cannot take your money; though the offer of it
and this talk with you has made me feel richer than I should be if my
pockets were overflowing with gold."
"Oh Jack!" interrupted Nelly. "I did not think it of you. If it were
mamma or Miss Flint who offered it, I would not blame you for being
too proud to take it. But we have been playfellows ever since we can
remember, and since this trouble came I have said to myself, 'Whatever
other people may do, I will never change to Jack. I will be a sister
to him, and every sixpence I can save, he shall have.' And now you say
you cannot take the five pounds. Perhaps you think some one will know
I have given it you, but they will not. Grandfather Burford bargains
that, after we are fourteen, we shall do just what we like with his
birthday presents. He has plenty of money, too, so of course mamma does
not contradict him."
"It is not because I am proud, Nelly, but because I am not so poor as
you think, that I decline to rob you, dear. Listen."
Then I went into a calculation of ways and means, and proved that I
was quite able to pay my way, and expected to save something out of my
income.
"Old Betsy contrives wonderfully for me," I said, "and in a few months
I mean to astonish Miss Flint by paying five pounds towards the fifty
on which I am giving her interest. When the principal is paid, I must
begin to save towards buying back Lint Hall," I added, with a cheery
laugh.
There was an equal mixture of earnest and jest in this reply of mine.
I meant to pay Miss Dorothy in full, and I also intended to save every
penny I could, but as to buying Lint Hall back, I never dreamed of that
coming to pass.
"I am sorry you will not have this money," said Nelly. "It will do me
no good; money never does. It just burns my pocket, and I have seldom
anything to show for it, or can tell where it has gone. If you had only
taken this, I should have felt so happy, and gone on taking care of
the pence in future. You would have helped me to be careful, and made
saving a pleasure."
"Save part of your money in case I should want to borrow; and be sure
you will be the only friend I will ask if I want a loan. Have you kept
that sixpence with a hole in it, and the motto in tiny letters on Her
Majesty's cheek?"
Nelly immediately fished it up from the bottom of her pocket, and with
it a collection of small articles, very like those which schoolboys
delight to collect, and handed it to me.
"I am going to keep it, if you will give it to me," I said; "so never
complain that I will not take any money from you."
The girl's face brightened as I attached it to my watch-chain, which,
as well as the watch, had been my mother's. Then I said, "Good-bye,
Nelly. I cannot tell you how happy this talk has made me; and it will
have to last for a long time, but I shall never forget it or you. I
should like you to tell Mr. Burford that we have had it. He will say
whether you must also name it to your mother."
She promised, and sped away like a young fawn, whilst I went homeward
with a slower step and a lighter heart than I had known since I heard
of my father's death.
I was quite determined not to meet this dear girl-friend again, so long
as Mrs. Burford maintained the same attitude towards me, but there was
no need for me to pain her kind heart by saying so. I knew she would
keep her word, and tell her father of our meeting, so I felt satisfied
on her account. She had been less than just to herself in speaking of
her spendthrift habits; probably she kept no account of the way in
which most of her money went. I fully believe that. But there were poor
folk that could have answered for her, and who prayed for a blessing on
that young head. Nelly Burford was both tenderhearted and generous, and
could never close her ears to a tale of want, or her pocket, if she had
anything left to give.
The sixpence she had so cheerfully handed over had a history, and
bore an inscription beside the impress given to it at the Mint. Some
former owner had taken pains to engrave the words, "Work, Wait, Win,"
on the smooth cheek of the Queen's likeness. The letters were small,
but beautifully clear and legible to any one with fairly good sight.
Who had shaped them we knew not, for Nelly picked up the coin on a
field-path, when she, Rose, and I were out walking together, a couple
of years before. We did not find an owner for it, but judged that
it had dropped from a worn link in the chain to which it had been
attached. Apart from the inscription, there was nothing remarkable
about the coin.
We young people used to call it the "three W's" sixpence, because the
tiny capital letters stood out conspicuously, but it was only since the
date of my own altered fortunes that I had begun to think about the
motto.
"'Work, Wait, Win,'" I repeated to myself. "Those are just the words
for me, and I will ask my Heavenly Father to give me strength and will
to work, patience to persevere and to wait until, in His good time, He
sees fit to reward my efforts."