UP THE CHIMNEY.
"LET me look at it!" exclaimed Randall, pushing Hugh aside, and
standing on tiptoe to reach the mantel-piece.
"You mustn't. I ought not to have touched it," said Hugh eagerly. "Let
it alone, I tell you; mother would not like us to touch her letters."
"It isn't a letter, it's a bank-note, and I mean to look at it,
whatever you say—"
Hugh put his hand upon the object of their dispute, to protect it from
further molestation, while Randall, with a sudden movement, caught it
from under his brother's hand, and then in his eagerness dropped it.
It fluttered down, down, down; both boys made a dash at it, but the
draught from the blazing fire was too strong—it eluded their grasp, and
quietly floated into the midst of the flames, where it caught fire, and
went crackling up the chimney.
There was a moment's silence, while both children stood spell-bound.
At length Randall found his voice, though it was choking with anger and
dismay, and he exclaimed—"You did it! It was your fault!"
"Oh, Randall!" said Hugh, turning white.
"You did! I shall tell mother so! It was all your doing—"
He ran from the room, and Hugh could hear his voice explaining and
protesting, and his mother's tone of vexation as she realized her loss.
Then he heard steps approaching, and they both came in.
"I was in the arm-chair," said Randall, "and he was holding it there,
on the hearth-rug, and then he dropped it, and it blew into the fire—"
"Oh, Randall!" began Hugh, in a despairing tone. "It wasn't a bit so,
mother! I was telling Randall not to touch it, and he would try to, and
he snatched it from me, and then—I don't know how—it got burned."
Mrs. Shaddock looked from one to the other.
"'Which' did it?" she asked angrily.
"It was Hugh," said Randall; "I was quite away from him, and I saw it
in his hand."
"Randall let it fall in the fire," said Hugh steadily, his face white
even to his lips, and his hands clenched together till they ached.
"I don't believe it," said Mrs. Shaddock. "Don't you hear your brother
was sitting in the arm-chair, so it could not have been his fault. Here
is a whole five pounds gone, and you shall have no Christmas presents
at all, Hugh for being so careless, and then trying to put it on your
brother. Do not let me have another word on the subject. I do not know
what your father will say."
Mrs. Shaddock left the room in great displeasure, and the two boys
stood looking at each other.
"Now, cry-baby, go and tell it all to nurse," said Randall, shaking his
yellow mane defiantly. "I know it was your fault, so I don't care."
Hugh slowly left the room, his heart stinging with the pain of his
little brother's taunts.
Soon his father would be back from town, and then he pictured the fresh
investigation of the whole matter, and the fresh disgrace, and perhaps
punishment, which would fall upon him. It was not the first time that
Randall's selfishness and want of truth had got him into dire trouble,
and he was too sensitive, and too little respected, to fight for
himself.
He laid himself down on the nursery hearth-rug to think it all over,
and remained like that till the gong sounded for tea, and he must go
down.
Mr. Shaddock had come in, and Gertrude and his sisters had returned
from a lecture they had been attending. Everybody was present, as Hugh,
pale and dark-eyed, walked into the room.
"You need not come here," said his father, looking up. "Tell nurse to
give you your tea up-stairs, and put you to bed. Five-pound notes are
not to be burned with impunity."
Hugh said nothing. He went slowly up to the nursery, and sat down
dejectedly on a chair. Nurse had heard the account from Randall, and
knew all about it, or at any rate, so much as could be gathered from
one side.
"I expect I shall be caned," said Hugh at length, "and it was Randall
who did it from beginning to end."
"Then never mind, dear," said nurse gently.
If there was one thing that nurse found hard in her comfortable place,
it was that Hugh was often severely punished, while Randall got off
free.
But Hugh would not be comforted. He ate no tea, and crept into bed,
utterly crushed.
As he lay there in the darkness, above the fear of punishment, above
the threat of no Christmas presents, above the misery of being wronged,
came over him a greater misery still. For while he knew that every
word Randall had said was false, and that the burning of the note was
entirely Randall's doing, yet in his inmost heart he felt he had been
the one to touch it first, and this fault he had not acknowledged.
He could not do it! That was his first and strongest feeling. Nothing
on earth could make him volunteer that which would partly justify all
their displeasure. He had "not" burned the note, there it must rest.
That was his ultimatum.
But to those who are Christ's, a still small voice comes; the
Shepherd's hand is stretched out to restore the soul, and lead it in
the paths of righteousness.
A sudden thought came to poor little Hugh, and he looked up above the
misery and despair which had seized him. "Oh, help me to do right, by
Thy mighty power," he whispered. "I can't do it by myself—do help me,
Lord Jesus."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]