THE fortnight slipped away like lightning; and the end came suddenly,
taking Jock by surprise. He had been so busy, one way and another, that
he had not known how near the parting lay. And just at last, things
so happened that he would have to take his journey with strangers, to
Lethmere West, where Grannie lived. Mrs. Munro had meant to take him
there herself, before joining her ship, but she was not well enough
for the extra fatigue. And Aunt Judith, who was to have come for Jock,
could not leave home, Grannie being poorly.
Jock did not care about that. He was glad that Aunt Judith would not be
in the house during the last day.
"Mind, Master Jock," Jane said more than once, as she packed his boxes,
"you've got to be a good boy, and don't you go and get upset and worry
your mother." Jock did his best, but the world felt very queer, and
everything seemed upside down.
When the last evening came, Mrs. Munro was again resting on the sofa,
and Jock had his station at her side. They did not talk about the
morrow, but about everyday things, as if nothing were about to happen.
Jock fell into his favourite occupation of watching the fire.
"I wonder what makes the flames go up and up," he said suddenly. "They
do jump about so. It's funny."
"I'm not learned enough to explain puzzles of that sort. Some day you
must ask Daddy."
"Daddy knows everything, doesn't he?"
"Why—no. Nobody knows everything. But he knows a great deal more than
you and I do. I wish I could answer all your questions, but you haven't
a clever mother."
Jock was indignant. "You 'are' clever. You're most awfully clever," he
declared. "I know you are."
"Oh no, I'm not, darling. Not half so clever as Aunt Judith, for
instance. I think I'm only clever at loving."
Jock fondled her hand. "I wish I could know everything. I wish I could
find out lots of new things."
"Perhaps you may some day—if you work hard at lessons, and do your very
best, and keep your eyes open, so as to notice things that go on. Think
what a chance you will have in the country, where it will all be so
fresh and new to you. You were such a little fellow last time we went.
You can't remember much." For more than two years Mrs. Munro had been
unable, from one cause and another, to visit her old home.
"Mummie—shall I like those people—to-morrow?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Royle? I hope you will. It is so kind of them to take
charge of you for the journey."
Then both were silent, till it was time for Jock to go upstairs.
But when he was in bed, she knelt beside him, and he nestled into her
arms. And presently, very softly, she spoke words which he would not
forget—words about his great and loving Father in heaven, and about the
mighty Son of that Father, Who long ago had come from heaven to earth
to die on the Cross for men, Who would be with Jock always—always ready
to hear, always ready to forgive, always ready to help. Would Jock
remember, and pray every day, evening and morning, to that wonderful
unseen Friend?
Jock gave a huge answering squeeze; and then they were both silent—till
somehow, he dropped off sound asleep.
And in early morning came the waking, followed by a hasty breakfast.
Mrs. Munro had wanted much to take Jock herself to his station, and
to see him off, but her own train left at almost the same time from
another station, and the two could not be fitted in. So he had to go in
charge of Jane.
He kept saying to himself—"I mustn't cry. I mustn't cry." And he did
not—even when the last good-byes had been said, and he and Jane were
off in their taxi.