A SMALL WORLD.
"Does you want a boat?"
Such a soft, clear little voice! Denys turned quickly and looked up,
but her eyes had to come down again to the yellow sand on which she
sat. There was no one near enough to have spoken to her but a mite of
a boy in petticoats, with bare feet and yellow hair and brilliant blue
eyes.
"Hullo!" said the little voice again, "_does_ you want a boat?"
"No, thank you," she answered with a tender smile; she had heard no
voice like this voice, since little Jerry died. It was as if Jerry
himself had come back to her.
"Why doesn't you want one?" insisted the child.
"I have no one to row me," she said.
He looked down at his little brown hands and then up in her face.
"When I'm a man I'll row you! I'm going to be a sailor like my dad
was!"
"What is your name, dear?"
"Harry! Harry Lyon!"
He stood with his little brown legs apart, gazing at her.
"My dad's dead! That's his grave," he said, with a wave of his hand.
"_Where?_" said Denys aghast.
He pointed to the dancing waves. "What colour does you call that sea?
Does you know colours?" he asked gravely.
"Why, yes! I know them. The sea is blue."
Harry shook his head unbelievingly.
"It's a red sea where my dad is?" he said.
"Where is your mother?"
Harry nodded inland, and a shadow fell over his sturdy little face.
"She's always coughing--she don't come out with Harry no more,"
he said, plaintively. Then his tone brightened. "She's going away
somewheres; she's going to get _quite_ well--it's along of Jesus, our
best Friend--and I'm going with her," he added determinately.
There was a pause. Denys felt a great compassion for the little chap.
She wondered what would happen to him when mother got quite well, and
yet--with Jesus for best Friend--need she have wondered?
The child's next words effectually startled her out of her thoughts.
"Give us a penny!" he said.
"Oh, Harry! it's naughty to ask for pennies!"
"Give us a ha'penny then," he coaxed.
But Denys only shook her head and laughed at him, and at that moment
Gertrude and a young fellow sauntered up to her.
"We have had a lovely row!" exclaimed Gertrude gaily. "Mr. Greyburne
made the boat fly. It's such a little light thing, just made for two!
Where is Mrs. Henchman?"
"She was not feeling well enough to come out," answered Denys, "and
Audrey's school has not broken up yet."
"I'm afraid you have been dull," said Cecil Greyburne politely; "but
you are going to cycle to Brensted Woods with us this afternoon?"
"Denys ought not to be dull," said Gertrude easily. "She has letters
to write and to read, and she counts the hours till Charlie comes,
and she has to do the pretty to her future mother-in-law. You see, _I_
have not all these occupations. Denys! I am sure it is lunchtime!"
Denys rose and shook the sand from her dress.
"Mrs. Henchman wanted us all to walk to the Landslip this afternoon,"
she said. "She has ordered a donkey-chair and we shall have tea at the
Cottage. Could not you join our party, Mr. Greyburne? We can hardly
run away!"
"Oh, how horrid!" exclaimed Gertrude, "you know how I hate walking. I
shall get out of it somehow. Mr. Greyburne and I can cycle there and
join you at tea. How will that do, Mr. Greyburne?"
Cecil glanced at Denys, and his eyes passed on to Gertrude's merry,
sparkling face. She was really good fun to ride out with, and it
was turning out to be a much jollier Easter holiday than he had
anticipated. He did not exactly see why he should sacrifice himself
to walking beside a slow donkey-chair, when the prettiest girl he had
ever known invited him to a cycle ride. If she could get out of the
walk he was quite ready to second her. "I'll come up at any time
you name, and be ready for anything that is wanted of me," he said
gallantly. He felt he had handled a difficult decision very neatly.
As the two girls tidied their hair for lunch, Denys said very
earnestly,
"Gertrude! we really can't run away from Mrs. Henchman this afternoon;
it is not polite or--or--anything!"
"You can't, but I can," retorted Gertrude, "and I'm going to. You are
not going to condemn me to a slow walk when I can have a nice spin
with Cecil. I'll arrange it with Mrs. Henchman, and she'll be quite
satisfied if you don't interfere."
She ran downstairs and went gaily into the dining-room.
"So I hear you are going to take us all to the Landslip, and have
tea at the Cottage, Mrs. Henchman," she said, sitting down beside her
affectionately; "and Denys has asked Cecil Greyburne to go too, and
he and I are going to cycle instead of walk. Denys said you would not
like it, but I knew you would not mind."
And Mrs. Henchman answered as Gertrude had meant she should.
"Not at all, my dear! I want you to enjoy yourself while you are
here."
"Oh, I am!" answered Gertrude, very heartily and very truthfully. She
cast a little triumphant look at Denys. She was certainly enjoying
herself immensely. They had been at Whitecliff the larger half of a
week already, and Cecil Greyburne, an old school friend of Charlie's,
had dropped in to call on Mrs. Henchman the first evening, and since
then he had called in or met the girls constantly. Mrs. Henchman had
not been very well since their arrival, and Audrey was very engrossed
with the end-of-term examinations, and Gertrude found it convenient
to assume that Denys ought to be entertaining her future relatives
or writing to Charlie; she, therefore, monopolised Cecil to such an
extent, that every day it happened as it had happened that morning:
Denys sat alone on the beach or wandered about on the cliff, and
Gertrude, with a lightly uttered "Oh, Denys is busy somewhere," had
gone cycling or rowing or primrose hunting with Cecil.
Mrs. Henchman had ordered her donkey-chair for three o'clock, and
shortly before that hour Gertrude came bustling in from the garden.
She found Denys in the hall collecting cushions and shawls, for though
the April sun was unusually warm there was a sharp touch in the wind.
"I say, Denys!" she exclaimed. "I have borrowed your machine--I have
bent my pedal somehow, and you won't want yours."