LOST IN A FOG
FOR a few minutes she did not realize it, but she pressed after the
boys in the direction in which she thought they had gone. She was too
shy to call after them; too frightened and bewildered to speak to any
passer-by. Stories of children being kidnapped came into her mind. Dawn
had said burglars and pickpockets were about; if she spoke, they might
offer to take her home, and then lead her away to rob her or kill her.
An overwhelming sense of terror seized her, she fancied some one caught
hold of her; and turning round, she ran as if for her life away from
the possible pickpocket. The fog seemed to get thicker, she could not
see a few feet in front of her, and at last she stood still trying to
collect her thoughts.
"I don't know where I am, or what I'm to do," she said to herself. "I
couldn't find a cab if I wanted one, and I couldn't drive in a cab
alone, I should die of fright. The cabman would be drunk; Puggy said
they always were. But I'm sure God will take care of me; I mustn't be
frightened. I'll say my text:
"'What time I am afraid I will trust in Thee.'
"I will trust God to take care of me. I wish I was near a shop; they
seem to have all gone away. Perhaps if I went up to a house and knocked
at the door, they would tell me what to do."
She was trying hard to be cool and brave; and, gathering all her
courage together, she felt her way to the nearest doorstep; three steps
she mounted, and then dimly through the fog she saw a bell. This she
pulled, and waited in trepidation till some one came. The some one
proved to be a manservant, and in opening the door he seemed to let out
a flood of light and warmth.
But as Christina looked up at him her heart failed her. He could see
her less plainly than she could see him, and his voice was irate as he
exclaimed:
"One of you begging brats again! How dare you touch the bell! Is my
time to be taken up by answering the door to such as you!"
Christina was dumb; the door was slammed violently in her face, and
sitting down on the step she gave way to a few tears.
"What am I to do? The houses are no good, and the people aren't, for I
can't see them, and I don't know where the cabs are, or where I am!"
Then she thought she might speak to a lady if one passed by, but none
seemed to come in her direction. Two loud-voiced girls passed her
certainly, but their tones were not those of ladies, and this Christina
knew instinctively.
"I s'pose," she said sorrowfully to herself, "that God is punishing me
for having come out without Blanche. My conscience was right after all!
And now the very worst has happened to me, and I shall never be found,
and I shall be lost for ever!"
She felt cold and miserable; the fog got down her throat and made her
cough. She wondered vaguely why she did not feel more frightened, and
walked along the pavement with tired lagging steps.
"I wonder if it will ever get light again!" she said to herself, and
then the inspiration seized her to take her stand under one of the
electric lamps that edged the street at intervals.
"Perhaps I shall be able to see the people's faces better, and if they
aren't all burglars, I might ask some one to help me!"
She had hardly taken her stand under the lamp before some one did come
by whom she recognized at once. It was the old gentleman who had spoken
to her in the picture gallery. In an instant she darted forward and
touched his arm timidly.
"Please, I'm lost; do help me."
"Eh? What! Lost? No begging tricks! Why, bless my soul, it's my little
friend who ran away from the pictures and me!"
"Yes; I've lost the boys, and I can't find my way home; will you help
me?"
"Can't find your way home? Delightful! I'm as dull as ditch water
to-day, you shall come home with me and cheer me up. Have you had your
tea? I have not. Come along, come along, my house is not far from here.
We'll send you home when we've done with you."
He took her hand in his. Christina followed him happily, till a sudden
fear seized her.
"Please, don't mind my asking you, but you are not a burglar or a
pickpocket, are you? You wouldn't rob me, would you? I—I don't know
anybody in London, and Puggy and Dawn tell me such dreadful stories!"
The old gentleman laughed huskily. She went on with increasing
nervousness:
"If you would take me back to our hotel, I should like it best; for,
you see, the boys will be looking for me."
[Illustration: "Eh! What, lost?"]
"All in good time. Here we are! You must come in and see my old lady
and then you will know why I was moon-struck over that dismal picture."
He had stopped at one of the houses in the street, inserted a latchkey
into the door, and then took Christina up a steep flight of stairs.
"Now," he said, ushering her into a small drawing-room that was only
lighted by a flickering fire, "here is my good wife. She can't see you
in this fog, and she couldn't if it was bright sunshine, for she is
quite blind, so she will take my word for it when I tell her that you
are a very pretty little lady with eyes like our Minnie's. Come and
shake hands with her."
Christina crossed the room timidly. Seated in an armchair by the fire
was a very sweet-looking old lady. She was knitting a scarf, and had
just laid down her work to listen to her husband's voice. "Very glad
to see you, dear, or—I should say—to have you here, as I can't see any
one. It is not often we have little visitors. How did you meet her,
Ted?"
"Looking at a picture. Ah, dear! Don't remind me of it. Just a picture
of ourselves a few years later! And then she ran away from me, and then
we met again in the streets, and she told me she was lost. Lost in
London! I wonder how many loot souls London is responsible for!"
The old gentleman took off his hat and sat down heavily on a chair.
Christina looked at him in wonder, then she laid her little hand softly
on the old lady's withered one.
"I'm not quite lost, because I know the name of our hotel, and any one
will take me there, won't they? It's this dreadful fog. I couldn't see
the boys any more."
"Ted dear, ring the bell. Chivers will bring up tea. You must stay and
have some tea, little girl, and then my husband will take you home. He
wants cheering up; but he is not always so gloomy as this!"
Christina stayed to tea. She did not see what else she could do, and
she confided to the old couple a good deal concerning herself and the
boys.
She heard from the old lady that her name was Bolland, and that she and
her husband had lived in London for fifty years, only going away from
it sometimes for change of air. Mr. Bolland had been once an artist
himself, but rheumatism had crippled his hands and limbs so badly that
for some years he had not been able to touch a paint brush.
"And where is your little girl?" Christina asked. "The little girl
something like me?"
"Ah!" said Mrs. Bolland with a sigh. "She's in Heaven; she died when
she was twelve years old. I've often thought that if she had lived, she
would have brightened our life now, wouldn't she, Ted? Show the little
girl your picture of her. She'd like to see our Minnie."
Mr. Bolland left the room and returned with a large picture under his
arm. It was a pretty portrait: a little girl in white muslin frock
with a string of coral beads round her neck. Christina gazed at it
admiringly.
"Yes," said Mr. Bolland, looking at her earnestly, "you've the same
eyes, my dear, and you say the things Minnie used to say. Why when she
lay dying she looked up at me, 'Father, I'm sorry to leave you, but so
glad to go to Jesus,' she said."
He turned away and cleared his throat. Mrs. Bolland took hold of
Christina's hand.
"Will you come and see us another day?" she asked gently. "Do you think
you would be allowed to? We are very lonely old people, and it is such
a treat to hear a little child's voice."
"I'll ask father, and perhaps I could bring Puggy and Dawn with me."
"Are they your dogs?"
Christina laughed merrily.
"No, they're boys. We're called the United Kingdom. Puggy is England,
and Dawn is Ireland, and I'm Scotland. Dawn is named after the picture
we saw to-day."
"I'll take you to your hotel," said Mr. Bolland. "We won't have a cab.
The fog is clearing, and it is not far from here."
So Christina wished Mrs. Bolland good-bye, and promised her she would
come again if she could, and then taking hold of Mr. Bolland's hand,
she was piloted across several streets, and finally reached the hotel
just at the time when her father, with a very worried face, was making
inquiries about her in the entrance hall.
It appeared that neither Puggy nor Dawn had returned. Mr. Maclahan
thanked the old gentleman warmly for bringing his little daughter
back. He took her up at once to their private sitting-room, where her
stepmother was having a cup of tea.
"It is really most culpable of Blanche to let these three children go
out alone," said Mr. Maclahan sharply.
"Yes," his wife responded, "I suppose it is; but Puggy can generally be
trusted to look after himself."
"I don't doubt that, but he cannot be trusted to look after Christina."
"Don't be hard on him. Tina seems the most capable of the three, for
she has come back first."
"I expect," said Christina with anxious eyes, "that they're looking for
me all this time. We lost each other in the fog. They got in front of
me, and I lost them."
Mr. Maclahan left the room.
"Come here and tell me what you have been doing," said Mrs. Maclahan to
her little stepdaughter.
Christina gave a very careful and truthful account of herself.
"Of course they ought to have looked after you better. But boys will be
boys. I'm afraid your father will be very angry with Puggy!"
"May I go and see that old lady and gentleman again?" asked Christina
timidly.
"You had better ask your father. I should think it would be a very odd
proceeding. We do not know them, though I believe Mr. Bolland was an
R.A. once. Ask Dawn's father if he knows him. And now go to Connie, and
stay with her."
Christina left the room with relief. Though her stepmother was kind to
her, she was not sympathetic; the little girl was never quite at ease
when with her. She felt she was in the way, and that Mrs. Maclahan
only tolerated her presence. And Mrs. Maclahan made no secret of her
preference for the boys. She did not understand Christina, and she felt
indifferent towards her. Beyond seeing that she was educated, fed and
clothed, her stepmother had little to do with her, and it was to her
father that Christina turned with the assurance of being welcome. Mr.
Maclahan was taking an increasing interest in his little daughter, and
her love of books was a great bond of union between them.
Half an hour afterwards the boys returned. They were indignant instead
of relieved to find Christina safely at home.
"What did you run away from us for, you little stupid!" exclaimed
Puggy. "A nice hunt we have had for you!"
"And all the policemen in London are looking for you," asserted Dawn.
"We did the thing properly I can tell you! We offered £500 reward for
whoever would find you."
"Oh!" gasped Christina. "Where could you get five hundred pounds?"
"Oh, your father would give that and a good deal more to get you back,"
said Dawn coolly. "Why, dad thinks me worth more than a thousand
pounds, I know he does! And if I was put up for sale, I dare say I'd
fetch more!"
Puggy eyed him with scorn.
"You'd only be bought by silly old ladies who go in for lapdogs. Your
curls would keep off any sensible man from owning you!"
Dawn douched his fists.
"Now come, we'll have it out! I've been longing to give you a good
crack across your head ever since you told me I was a penniless
Irishman!"
"I never called you a man at all!" cried Puggy, squaring his shoulders.
"You're a long-haired mongrel, that's what you are!"
Dawn flew like a little tiger upon Puggy, but Christina flung herself
between them.
"You shan't fight, you mustn't!" she cried. "Why, this is the first day
we've met. Oh, do be good boys, and tell me what you've been doing!"
Dawn began to laugh.
"We'll put it off," he said with a knowing nod at Puggy. "I want to
tell where we've been. Such a lark, Tina; I took Puggy to Scotland
Yard. You've never been there I know."
"Does it belong to Scotland?" asked Christina. "I ought to know about
it I expect!"
"I don't know what it has to do with Scotland, but the cleverest
policemen live in it; and if anything is lost, they take it there. Dad
lost his best umbrella in a train, and he took me there, and we got it
again."
"Would they have taken me there?" questioned Christina anxiously.
"No," interrupted Puggy, "I told him they wouldn't. I know London as
well as Dawn does, and if any one is found wandering about the streets
with no home, they're taken straight off to prison by the police, and
made to sleep there all night!"
"Oh!" gasped Christina. "Just suppose a policeman had caught hold of
me! How thankful I am he didn't!"
"Such fun!" went on Dawn with a chuckle. "Puggy got a shove from some
one in the fog and he hit him in the face, and it was a bobby! We flew
for our lives, and then we went to Scotland Yard."
"They'd just brought a huge bunch of keys in," put in Puggy, "and they
were quite interested about you. We made up a long story about you. We
told them you were the daughter of a millionaire, that we fancied you
had been kidnapped in the fog for the sake of your dress and jewellery;
we told them bills were going to be printed about you, and if they
wished to get the reward, they'd better be quick and find you."
"I told them," said Dawn importantly, "that my father was painting a
picture of you which was going to be put in the Academy, so that made
them think you were very grand indeed. But then they began to want to
know too much, and asked us so many questions that we got tired and
came away."
The children were talking together in the lounge of the hotel. They
were interrupted now by the appearance of Mr. Maclahan, who gave both
boys a sharp scolding, and told Dawn he had better go home.
"Yes," he said, shaking back his curls with a saucy gesture, "and I
shall invite Tina to spend the day with me, and then get dad to scold
her well, and send her home without any tea."
"Do let Dawn stay to tea, father," Christina begged. "I've had mine
out, but he has had none."
But Dawn was already flying down the broad staircase. Looking up when
he reached the bottom, he waved his cap.
"Good-bye, you proper people. I like tea with dad better than with the
King himself! And I'll come round and see you to-morrow Tina!"