AT THE MAGPIE.
ERIC HUNTER'S quiet life had made him thoughtful beyond his years, and
old Toby's invectives, while they did not surprise him very much, awoke
once more the fears that had tortured him ever since the doctor had
told him his mother could not live long.
But he bravely kept back the tears of grief and dismay, and went on
with his task of sweeping up the stable-yard, while old Toby and the
landlord adjusted their quarrel over him.
He longed to say, "I will not stay in this place to hear my mother
called a witch;" but she had made him promise that if he could possibly
get employment in Summerleigh, he would not venture into the world
beyond, until he was older. And so, for this promise sake, he held his
peace.
Before he went home in the evening, the landlord contrived to give him
half a rye loaf and a bottle of cider for his supper; but, though he
was hungry and faint, the boy could not eat just yet.
Going into the inner room, where all that he could see of his mother
still lay, he threw himself on his knees beside the bed, and sobbed out
his grief and fears for the future.
"Oh, mother, mother!" he sobbed. "Let me go away from this place; I can
never stop here. Anything would be better than stopping here with that
old Toby for a master. Let me find my way to London, and try to get
work there. I have waited as you told me for God to send a messenger to
help me, but nobody has come but the landlord of The Magpie, and surely
he wasn't God's messenger—he can't help me much."
It was a relief to the boy to pour out his grief and fear and doubt
in this fashion, but he had no intention of breaking his promise; and
hard as it was to think that Tyler could be the expected messenger of
mercy who was to come and help him out of his difficulties, he had no
intention of breaking away from the engagement he had made to work in
the stable under old Toby.
But he grew calmer and more content before he rose from his knees; and
as he folded back the sheet to look at the waxen face that lay beneath,
he whispered once more, "I will keep my promise, mother, and stay here
as long as I can."
He heard the next day that arrangements had been made for the funeral,
but it would cost all the money their poor furniture would fetch to pay
for it, and the owner of the cottage wanted that for another tenant by
the end of the week, so that before Sunday, Eric would be homeless as
well as motherless.
This was a difficulty the landlord had not foreseen when he engaged him
to help Toby, but it did not make him the less determined to befriend
the lad, although his wife saw in it a reason for sending him before
the justice of the peace, to have him transported as a beggar, and thus
rid Summerleigh of him for ever.
"There's no occasion for that," said her husband quickly; "the boy is
not a beggar, and never likely to become one, unless he is driven to
it. Remember you were left motherless, and might have shared a similar
fate, if my mother had not taken pity on you." And with this timely
reminder, that never failed to bring Mrs. Tyler to reason, the landlord
left her, to think out for himself a plan of lodging Eric.
Fortunately there was plenty of room in the numerous outhouses in the
stable-yard, and at last it was settled that he should bring his little
box, that contained his few clothes and some letters that his mother
had told him to keep, and put it in the hayloft, where he could sleep.
It was a rough lodging, but in those times, boys were used to rough
treatment generally, and so he had little cause to complain. Old Toby
grumbled and found fault continually, but Eric soon began to learn that
the master's eye was upon him, and if he took pains with a visitor's
horse, though Toby might pocket the gratuity that should of right
have been his, the landlord often gave him a kind word or look of
appreciation that was worth more than money to him.
Betty and her mistress were by no means friendly to him for some time.
They professed to be afraid of him, to see something in his eyes that
told of his witch parentage, and they often kept him waiting for his
meals, if the master was not about to see that he had his food given to
him at the proper time.
But although old Toby was cross and suspicious, and seldom gave him a
kind word, the old man was so fond of airing his knowledge of horses
and their ways and ailments, that Eric could not fail to learn a good
deal from him, although he was careful to keep this knowledge to
himself, and never attempt the expression of an opinion upon anything,
whatever he might think upon the matter.
There were a few post-horses owned by the landlord, and these soon
learned to know and welcome the lad when he went into the stable; for
he often saved a morsel of bread from his own meal as a dainty for
them, and when they came back from a journey, tired and over-driven, as
they often did, he contrived to rub them with some lotion his mother
had taught him how to make from herbs growing in the forest, the secret
of which he kept to himself; for old Toby would be sure to object to
its use if he found it out, and he was not sure that his master might
not fear he was trying to hurt the poor brutes instead of helping them.
His love for these dumb friends, and the liberty that he had to show
his love to them in his own way, was almost his only comfort in life
now; for he was never allowed to forget that his mother was under the
ban of suspicion, and that he shared it.
There were a good many hours in the course of a week when he was not
wanted at all about the stables; and as Betty disdained receiving any
help from him in her kitchen work, he was left free to roam about
the forest almost as he had done during his mother's life. To search
for herbs and roots to make his lotions and salves for the horses,
and watch the ways and habits of the creatures who lived among its
thickets, became the pastime of his life, since he was denied human
friendship. Here, too, he found comfort and solace for his grief, and
at last began to hope that there might be a place for him in the world
after all.
"If I could only hope there was room for me somewhere, that I was of
use to somebody, it would be something to live for," he would whisper
to himself; for he had been told more than once by Toby and Betty too
that his master had only taken him out of charity, and not at all
because he wanted him, so that Eric might be excused for thinking there
was no room for him in this great busy world that God had made, but
which man seemed to manage so badly.
His master had given him a word of warning about speaking to Toby or
anybody else as he had to him when he first went to the cottage.
"If you were to speak to Toby about God caring for you, as you seem to
think He does, he would be sure to say you were one of these Methodists
who are turning the world upside down; and much as I might want to
help you, I couldn't do it, for parson and squire too are both dead
against the Methodists, and I should lose my licence if it was thought
I harboured one of these pestilent people about The Magpie stables. Not
that I think you are a Methodist," the landlord hastened to add; "but
you see I couldn't have a fuss here, as there would be if anybody heard
you talk as I did."
"Thank you, sir; I'll remember what you say," replied Eric; but he
sighed as he spoke, for he had been used to talk to his mother quite
freely about these matters, and she had taught him to believe in God as
a very present help in every time of trouble—a Friend who would never
fail to help the helpless, and who loved to have His children seek that
help and talk about it among themselves.
To be debarred from speaking of what had grown to be a part of his very
life was not easy therefore to Eric, who had been taught to connect God
with every portion of it, and to believe that the small events, as well
as the larger and more important ones, were under the guiding hand of
Him who had promised to lead and guide His children every step of their
way.
Being thus thrown upon himself, it was not strange that, as the months
passed, and he grew more accustomed to the work in the stable, and
consequently able to do it quicker, he should betake himself to the
forest more frequently, making friends with its furred and feathered
inhabitants, and enjoying the society of those who would trust
themselves to him. He never sought to entrap them or make prisoners of
them longer than they desired to stay near him; but the dainties he
brought in his pocket made them willing to display to him many of the
secrets hidden from the rest of mankind.
[Illustration]
Nor did he allow these excursions into the forest to trench upon his
duty at The Magpie stables. It was customary for most of the visitors
who came there to blow a horn at the corner of the village, announcing
their arrival; and the moment he heard this, Eric would leave whatever
employment he was engaged in, and run with all speed to take the horse,
or attend to the customer if he did not want to change horses.
By this means, old Toby had no excuse for grumbling over his absence,
though it might extend to several hours, if he was not thus summoned
back to his duty.
So the first spring and summer passed at The Magpie. During the winter
old Toby frequently had to stay at home, but nobody missed him, for
by that time, Eric knew as well how to manage the horses as the old
man himself, and kept everything about the stables and yard so neat
and trim, that no one could find fault with him on that score; and his
master hoped he would soon be able to live down the foolish prejudice
that was felt against him, and so be admitted to the society of other
village lads, who at present only made fun of him whenever they chanced
to meet.
That he was growing up a silent, taciturn, if not morose lad was
scarcely to be wondered at, for shut away from his fellows as he had
always been, he felt shy in their company, and rather avoided than
sought them. If there was any fun going on in the village, Eric was
sure to be away in the forest, where he had as many secret hiding
places as the hares and squirrels, whose friendship he sought in
preference to that of lads his own age, even if they would have
forgotten the old prejudice and been willing to make friends with him.
There had been nothing to awaken this prejudice against him personally
until the winter was nearly over, and it happened one day that a horse
was brought back to the stable in a very bad condition.
It had been over-driven, and a wound that had long since healed had
been re-opened by the hard usage he had received during the few days he
had been away from Eric's care. Tyler himself was the first to remark
the broken-down condition of the poor animal, and when he called Eric,
he said, "Give him a warm mash, my lad; I wanted to take him out myself
to-morrow, but I am afraid he won't be fit for anything for a week."
"If you could put off your journey till the day after, I think he would
be ready," Eric ventured to say, as he looked the horse over.
But the landlord shook his head.
"You don't know as much about the business as I do, my boy," he said.
"All the work has been taken out of poor Peggy for a week to come,
and yet I would rather drive her than any other in the stable. Mind
you look after her well," he added, though he knew Eric did not need
to be told this, for the pity he felt for her would induce him to do
everything possible to bring her into good condition again, independent
of business considerations, so that he did not follow to see what was
done for her relief.
The next morning, however, he went to have a look at her, to see
whether it would be better to send and get old Toby to come round and
see her, for he had the reputation of being a clever horse doctor, and
the plight she had come home in—covered with mud and bleeding from
this freshly-opened wound—made him think Toby's skill would be needful
before the horse could go out again. And he had just made up his mind
to send Eric and tell him to help the old man along, when he met the
lad leading Peggy slowly up and down. Her knees were bandaged, and she
limped a little occasionally, but otherwise seemed in good condition
again.
"Did you go and see old Toby about her last night?" asked the landlord,
as his eyes took in the improvement in Peggy's condition.
"No, sir; I just rubbed her with some salve I've learned to make, and
gave her a dose of herbs in her warm mash—you ordered that you know,
sir," added the boy.
"Yes; but I never saw a horse pick up from a simple warm mash as this
one has done. What did you give her?"
"Just a few herbs, sir, that I keep here;" and as he spoke he pointed
to an outhouse, where the landlord saw several bunches of dried herbs
hanging from the rafters.
"Where did you get them?" asked the landlord of The Magpie.
"Just out of the forest, sir. I saw the creatures eating them, so I
knew they would do no harm, and I had heard they were good physic for
men, so I thought they might do our Peggy good, for she was bad enough
last night."
Eric was afraid to say that his mother had taught him the use of the
herbs, for fear he should be accused of meddling with witchcraft. But
he was delighted to see that his master was pleased at the improvement
in the horse, and assured him that she would be able to go a short
journey the next day.
"But what about that old wound? How is that?" asked his master.
"Better, sir. I had made some salve—Betty gave me the fat when the last
pig was killed—and I knew what herbs to put in it to make a famous
heal-all, for they cured my chilblains and—"
"So you thought what would cure you could not fail on poor Peggy's
hide?" laughed his master; and he felt so pleased and proud of Eric's
skill that he went indoors and spoke of it to his wife.
"Summerleigh need not be afraid of losing old Toby now, for if he
should take himself off to-morrow my clever little stable lad can
doctor all the horses that he leaves behind."
It was an incautious speech, and he regretted having uttered it the
next moment, for his wife said, in a tone of stern rebuke, "John Tyler,
I am ashamed of you. To think that you, the landlord of an inn like
The Magpie, should encourage witchcraft in your own stable is truly
dreadful."
"Witchcraft!" uttered the astonished man. "Who said a word about
witchcraft? I only told you how cleverly the boy had doctored poor
Peggy."
"Ah, and how did he do it?" solemnly asked his wife. "Did he go and ask
old Toby—a decent, respectable man—what he ought to do? Did he, I say?"
"Well, no; it seems to me he knew better how to manage the job by
himself, so of course he didn't go to trouble the old man," replied her
husband, in rather a crestfallen tone.
"And who taught him all this, if it wasn't his witch-mother, I should
like to know?" demanded the lady, in a tone of great severity.
"Oh no, it can't be witchcraft," said Tyler, remembering the salve. "He
told me he had used the salve to cure his own chilblains."
"And you believed him, of course. You would believe anything he said,
because you are as mad under his witch spells as the horses are. I
shouldn't wonder but he bewitched Peggy before she went away this last
journey, and it's through that she seemed to be in such a plight. Of
course that would account for it all, for it would be easy enough to
lift a spell he had put on himself. Didn't his mother do the same thing
when she wanted to sell her salves and ointment—didn't every brat in
the village have a sore mouth at one time?"
"Yes, and didn't the doctor say it was because the well had been sunk
too near the churchyard," retorted her husband. "Mrs. Hunter had
nothing to do with that, she only tried—"
"To bewitch everybody and everything that came near her," interrupted
his wife, growing more angry every moment. "I believe now she laid her
spells upon you before she died, and that is why you had to take that
boy in Toby's place," she added, actually bursting into tears as this
thought suddenly occurred to her.
With his wife's words came the recollection of what Eric had said
when he went to the cottage to ask him to come. What could the lad
have meant by asking if he was God's messenger whom he had been told
to wait for? Tyler was by no means free from the superstition of the
time, and it might be that, all unknown to himself, he had been sent to
befriend this lad; and the bare suspicion of such leading on the part
of another, exercised upon himself, made the man shudder, he knew not
why.
Yet he sometimes repeated the well-known formula, "Lead us not into
temptation"; but it was only a formula, or at most a mystic charm, and
by no means words of truth to live by and seek help from, as they were
to Eric himself, as he had learned them from his mother.
So, leaving the matter in this unsatisfactory condition, the landlord
went to serve a customer, while Mrs. Tyler went to Betty with the tale
that their stable boy had began to practise witchcraft like his mother
before him.