LESSING OF LESSING’S CREEK.
“Things are looking up, or else the world is coming to an end. Jim has
a visitor.”
“Truly?”
“On my word of honour. I say, Frances, he’s such a quaint chap to look
at.”
“Somebody else is quaint to look at. I hope you weren’t in your
shirt-sleeves when you answered the door?”
“Well--hardly. I believe I wore a complete shirt, likewise a pair of
breeks.”
“Run away, boy. I’m busy.”
“So am I--awful. But in the goodness of my heart I just looked in to
bring you the news. The fellow told me his name was Tom Lessing, of
Lessing’s Creek Farm, Douglas River, Australia. Pretty wide address.
He asked for Jim, and said Jim would be sure to see him, so I sent him
along to the smithy. But first, as I didn’t want to miss a chance, I
inquired if he had happened to meet Mr. Walter Keith--thinking that he
would have run across Cousin Walter as likely as not. But he hadn’t.”
“That was remarkable. Australia, as you observed, is a wide address.”
“Well, there was no harm in asking. I hope Jim will invite Tom Lessing,
of Lessing’s Creek Farm, to dinner. I’d love to hear a backwoodsman
talk. I’d love to go to Australia. Isn’t it odd of Jim not to long to
be a colonist? He says he wouldn’t like it a bit.”
“Cousin Walter hasn’t particularly enjoyed being a colonist, Master
Adventurous.”
“Oh, that’s because he didn’t learn a trade before he went, and because
he didn’t understand sheep-farming, and because he’s a bit of a duffer
all round! Now, Jim’s got a kernel in his nut--”
“Austin!”
“Well, brains in his cranium, then. I’m off to peep in on Tom Lessing,
of Lessing’s Creek Farm.”
“No, dear, don’t. Perhaps he and Jim are old friends.”
“Yes, they are. He said so. He said a jolly lot in two minutes, I can
tell you.”
“Then I wouldn’t pry, Austin. They may have a great deal to tell each
other.”
“Well, I won’t pry. I’ll just stroll past the smithy.”
“I thought you were so fearfully busy?”
“So I am. I’m busy keeping you posted up in the latest intelligence.”
“Mamma wants some peas gathered. Get them for her, there’s a dear.”
“None of your blarney! You want to watch over my manners by keeping me
in sight. Not a bit! Tom Lessing, like a magnet, lures me to Lessing’s
Creek Farm, Douglas River, Australia.”
Austin walked with dignity out by the backdoor, but presently put his
head in again, and remarked:
“Of course I’ll gather the peas--enough for five!”
* * * * *
Mrs. Morland was seated shelling peas in the orchard,--it was a warm
June morning,--when her stepson, walking quickly over the short,
sweet-smelling grass, came to her side.
“Can you spare a minute?” he asked with his old nervousness. The sight
of his stepmother taking part in the day’s household work always
increased his uneasy sense of his own shortcomings.
“Oh, yes! Have you anything to tell me, James?”
“Just that an old friend has come to see me, and is still here. He’s
waiting for me in the smithy. Tom Lessing and I used to be great chums
once on a time, though his people were better off than mine. He went
out to Australia four years ago, and he has done very well.” Mrs.
Morland heard a slight sigh. “He always was a very capable chap, and he
has a splendid farm out there now. I--I think the children would like
him; he has seen such a lot. Please, would you mind very much if I kept
him to dinner?”
“Is he very rough? I do not mean to hurt you, James; but you know I
have Frances to think of.”
“I would not let a rough fellow come near the children,” said Jim in
gentle reproach.
“No--no. I am sure you would not. Then, pray keep your friend. I will
help Frances to prepare something extra, and he shall be made welcome.”
“Thank you very much,” said Jim gratefully. “Tom has come to England
for a holiday, and he is going to take lodgings in Exham for a few
days, so that we may see something of each other. I should not wish him
to come here, Mrs. Morland,” added Jim simply, “if you were afraid for
the children; but, indeed, Tom is a nice fellow, and I think you will
not dislike him.”
The last words proved true. Tom Lessing had not long been in Mrs.
Morland’s presence before she had decided that she liked him very much.
He was several years older than her stepson, and as big and strong as
Jim was slight and active. He treated Jim’s “lady-folk” with courteous
deference, and was evidently able to polish his “backwoodsman” manners
for fit converse in an English home. The dinner passed off pleasantly,
Jim and Austin distinguishing themselves as waiters. The visitor
enjoyed everything, and behaved in an easy, natural fashion which had
nothing vulgar about it. Mrs. Morland reflected that her stepson must
have followed some wise instinct in the choice of his boyhood’s friends.
That dinner was the first of several meals shared by Tom with his old
chum, and his chum’s kindred. Privately, he declared that Jim was a
lucky chap to have proved his right to claim relationship with such a
bright, plucky little pair as his lately-discovered brother and sister;
and then he added a few words in acknowledgment of Mrs. Morland’s
courteous welcome, which made Jim happier than anything. Besides
sharing meals, Tom found himself made free of the smithy, where he held
exhaustive discussions with Jim, and of the orchard, where he romped
with Austin, to the latter’s great content.
During the old friends’ exchange of confidences and record of
experiences, Jim was lured into expressions of feeling with regard to
his kindred which made good-hearted Tom look on the lad with kindly
and pitying eyes. With him, overwrought Jim felt he might venture to
unbosom himself of his anxieties and ambitions concerning the future.
Jim’s desired course of action tended in only one way--the proper
maintenance, in ease and comfort, of his stepmother and sister, and
the careful training of his brother with a view to Austin’s adoption
of some honourable profession. While uttering his aspirations, Jim
revealed to his attentive chum the reality of his pride in the girl
and boy who depended on him, and his deep affection for them. Tom
listened and pondered, and made up his mind. His liking for “young
East” had always been something more than mere boyish comradeship; and
the respect and sympathy with which he quietly noted Jim’s hard and
continual effort to live up to his own high standard of duty now added
to Tom’s former easy liking the deeper regard of his maturer years.
* * * * *
One morning Frances, wandering through the orchard for a breath of
cool air, came suddenly on Jim, who was lying at full length on the
bank in the shadow of the hedge, his head pillowed on his folded arms.
There was something so forlorn in the lad’s attitude that Frances
feared some fresh trouble had overtaken him; and she was not surprised
that his face, when he raised it in answer to her call, was darkened by
a deep dejection.
“Jim--Jim! What is the matter? Now, it’s no use to try to hide things,
Jim! You know it isn’t. Just tell me.”
Jim dragged himself up to his sister’s level as she sat down beside
him, and his eyes rested very wistfully on her inquiring face. So long
and sad was his gaze that the girl grew yet more uncomfortable, and
repeated her question insistently.
“I’ve no bad news for you, Missy,” said Jim at last, with great effort.
“None that you will find bad, at least. I have heard something, and
I’ve been thinking it over; that’s all. If I weren’t a coward, it
wouldn’t have wanted any thinking.”
“Well, what is it, Jim?”
“I will tell you presently, Missy. As well now as any time; only I’d
like your mother and the lad to hear too.”
“Jim,” said Frances, her brave voice quivering slightly, “you speak as
though your news were bad.”
“That’s just my selfishness,” muttered Jim; “I couldn’t see all at once
the rights of things. I can see now.”
“Come indoors and tell us all about it,” said Frances, trying to speak
cheerfully; “not much news grows better by keeping.”
“It could be only a matter of hours for this, anyway,” replied Jim
gently; “and if your mother is at liberty and Austin is at home, I will
do as you wish.”
So Frances led the way, and the pair walked soberly to the little house
which had become to both a cherished home.
Jim waited at the back-door while his sister went to look for her
mother and brother, and finding them both in the study, sharing the
window-seat, and the task of snipping gooseberries, ran back to summon
the “head of the family”.
All the responsibility of headship was in the lad’s countenance as he
entered the study in his sister’s wake. He stood silent while Frances,
in brief fashion, explained the situation; but something in her
stepson’s look caught and held Mrs. Morland’s attention, and made her
suspect that a tragedy might underlie Jim’s unusual calmness. She could
not guess how hard he had striven to reach the degree of composure
necessary to satisfy his stepmother’s ideal of good breeding.
“Yes, I’ve something to tell,” he said, when Frances paused, “and I
hope it will mean a real difference to you all. I had no right to look
forward to such a chance as I have had given me, and I know you’ll
wonder at it too--”
“James,” interrupted Mrs. Morland, with an acute glance, “you don’t
look as though the chance were altogether welcome.”
“That’s what I told him,” said Frances brightly. “He pretends to bring
good news, but I believe he’s a deceiver.”
Jim flushed slightly, and hung his head. “You must please forgive me,”
he murmured, “if I seem ungrateful and selfish. Indeed, I want to see
how everything’s for the best. I’ll be quick now, and tell my news. You
know Tom Lessing has a fine place in Australia, and is making money
fast. He has a lot of hands, and seems to pay them well; and he gives
every one of them a share in his profits over and above their salaries.
Tom is very kind, and--you’ve all been good and kind to him, for which
we both thank you.”
Though Jim spoke earnestly, there was an aloofness in his manner which
touched all his listeners, and reminded them, with keen shame, what
scanty cause he had, even now, to feel himself one of them. Frances
impulsively moved a step nearer him, and stopped, overcome by the
constraint she could not disguise; Austin sprang to his brother’s side,
and pressed affectionately against him. Jim gently held him off, as
though the lad’s caresses threatened his own self-control; but his
hand kept the boy within reach, and once or twice passed tenderly over
Austin’s tumbled curly head. If Mrs. Morland ever had doubted her
stepson’s love for her children, the suspicion from that moment died
away.
“Because he is kind, and because you have been good to him,” continued
Jim, “Tom has given me a chance. He has offered to take me back with
him to Australia, and to find me a good place as one of his overseers.
He says I’d soon learn enough to be of use, and he’d help me to get on.
I should have two hundred and fifty a year; and as I’d live with him,
he’d give me board and lodging too. So, since I shouldn’t want much for
clothes, I could send nearly all my earnings home; and there would be
grandfather’s money as well, and we would sell the smithy. I’ve been
thinking you might have a little house in Woodend, and the children
would go to school again, and by and by Austin would go to college. I
hope you would be very happy.”
The speaker’s lips trembled for just a second, in evidence of full
heart and highly-strung nerves. Then Jim, with courageous eyes, looked
across the room for comments and congratulations.
“We should be very happy?” queried Frances; and this time she went
close to her brother, and took his hand. “Oh, Jim!” she exclaimed, her
eyes bright with tears; “don’t go away from us, dear Jim!”
“You sha’n’t go away--so that’s all about it!” cried Austin, with a
masterful toss of his fair head. “You sha’n’t oversee anybody, except
us. It’s tommy-rot.”
“We are happy now,” continued Frances in trembling haste. “We don’t
want any more money, if we can’t have it without giving you up to
Australia. What’s the use of having found you, Jim, if you go away
again?”
[Illustration:
M432
“AH! BUT YOU WOULD MAKE SUCH A MISTAKE IF YOU THOUGHT WE WOULD LET YOU
GO.”]
Boy and girl, on either side, were clinging tightly to him. Jim, trying
to be calm--trying to be brave--looked desperately to his stepmother
for her expected support. If she should quench Austin and Frances with
some cynical reproof--if she should accept Jim’s final sacrifice with
just a word of contemptuous indifference--surely his pride would help
his judgment to keep fast hold of his failing courage.
Mrs. Morland had already risen, and was coming towards him now with
hands outstretched, and in her face the light of a motherly love to
which Jim could not try to be blind.
“Would you really do that for us?” she asked, smiling, though her
voice was not quite steady. “Ah! but you would make such a mistake if
you thought we would let you go. Frances is right;--we can do without
wealth, but we can’t do without you!”