BEPPO IN TROUBLE.
A far worse trouble than "cat" or "mat" came to poor Beppo a few days
afterward. He worked away diligently and steadily in the garden and
was always delighted to bring home his little earnings--six silver
shillings every week--and give them to old Roger. Hayes, the
gardener, was kind to him, and so was every one, except Jim Dawson,
who also worked in the garden.
But then, Jim Dawson was kind to no one, not even to his sister Moll,
for whom he seemed to have a sort of rough affection. Still, Jim
Dawson did his work well enough; he was very strong and got through a
good deal, if he _did_ idle sometimes when Hayes' back was turned.
So Hayes was glad to have him.
Now Hayes had a peach tree of which he was particularly proud. It
was like his child to him, for he had grown it from a very little
thing, and had watched it day by day in the spring, when its
beautiful pink buds became pinky-white flowers, and then dropped, and
gave way to little hard balls, green and round, that would one day be
peaches. He had taken off some of these, so that the rest might be
finer, and now there were just four beautiful velvet peaches on the
little tree. Such beauties they were! and soon would come the
fruit-show; and how delightful it would be to see in the county paper
that "Mr. Hayes, head-gardener to Mr. Seymour, had the first prize
for a splendid dish of peaches grown out of doors!"
Every morning and every evening, and several times in the day, came
Mr. Hayes looking after those treasures of his.
Can you fancy what Mr. Hayes' good-tempered face looked like when one
day, about twelve o'clock, he came past, having already paid "his
babies" a visit once that morning and found only three? Only three!
The finest of all was gone; neatly gathered from the tree; so that
there could be no suspicion of accident in the matter. It was too
bad.
Stooping down, Mr. Hayes carefully examined the ground to see if
there were any traces of footsteps by which he could discover the
thief.
In one or two places the ground looked a little disturbed, as if some
one had hastily covered over the traces of steps with some loose
earth. Certainly a cunning thief had been at work, and Mr. Hayes'
rage grew more and more violent; but his rage was quite useless.
Storm at the two boys, Jim and Beppo, he could, and he did; question
all the other gardeners, and the grooms, and John the coachman, and
the kitchenmaid, and the laundrymaid, and the girl who fed and
plucked the fowls; all this he did, but nothing could bring back his
peach, and every one seemed equally innocent in the matter. Mr.
Hayes was very angry, and for two days he remained so, spending much
of his time in walking about that part of the garden, with his sharp
eyes very wide open, and a thick stick in his strong hand.
Woe betide the unlucky thief who had gone near the peach tree on
those days!
But by the third day Mr. Hayes' wrath had cooled a little; besides,
he had very good news from a brother in Australia by the morning
post; and so on that day he took a look at the three peaches that
were left, and then went away whistling "Rule Britannia!" It was
about the only tune he knew, and he whistled it whenever things went
well.
It was a pity that a dark cloud should come up again that day over
the sunny landscape of Mr. Hayes' broad red face; but it is a fact
that, on coming again to visit his darlings, he found no longer
three, but only two; and under the brick wall were again traces of
steps carefully dusted over with earth, as before.
If Mr. Hayes had been angry before, he was now simply beside himself
with passion. He did not storm, neither did he stamp this time--he
was too angry for that.
Striding along the garden walk, without any distinct idea of where he
meant to go or what to do, Mr. Hayes encountered Beppo, who rose up
from his weeding, and looked as if he were about to speak. But the
child shrank from the furious face that looked down at him--shrank
away, and grew pale with fear.
Hayes looked at him steadily for a moment, then spoke fiercely,
though quietly, trying to control himself. "Well, boy, what have you
to say for yourself?"
Guilt was clearly painted on Beppo's face, and in every line of his
trembling figure as he stammered out. "P'ease--Mr. Haye--I--so
sorry. Not--mean--do it, sir!
"Not mean!" answered Hayes in a voice like suppressed thunder.
"Sorry! what can your sorrow do, I'd like to know? Do you know what
you have done? mischief that can never be mended!"
"Yes, sir," said Beppo humbly.
"Yes, sir! No excuse! You little foreign brat! you come along o'
me, and get the best thrashing you ever had. Come on, I say!"
He seized Beppo by the collar, and marching him in front, strode
toward the garden tool-house. There were plenty of sticks there that
would answer his purpose of severely punishing the wretched little
criminal, whose cries, moreover, would attract less notice there, he
thought.
Coming toward them, the angry man and his prisoner met Bryda, singing
merrily.
Her song soon stopped when she saw the poor little criminal in the
strong grasp of Mr. Hayes who was policeman, judge, jury, lawyers,
jailer, and executioner, all at once.
"What _is_ the matter? What has he done?" she gasped, quite
frightened.
Hayes stopped.
"Done! The little varmint!" giving Beppo a shake as he held him
still. "Done, Miss Bryda! Will he dare look you in the face again?
Stolen my peaches, two of them, one after the other--heartless,
greedy, thankless little monster as he is! Stolen my peaches that I
hoped would get the prize--ay, he can't deny it!"
"I not stolen them!" cried Beppo, in bitter distress. "Oh, Miss
Bryde! I not--I never done _that_! I often bad boy--never stole!
Never! No! No! No!"
Bryda remembered the baker's roll, and quite believed him. He was
hungry then, but he did not steal.
"Oh, Hayes! Indeed, indeed, I am sure he is telling the truth!" she
said earnestly. "Please don't be angry with him till you are quite
sure, at least."
"Lor', Miss Bryda," said the gardener impatiently, "you're that taken
up with the sly little rascal you don't believe butter would melt in
his mouth. But he spoke up and said he was sorry when I taxed him
with it first. It's only the sight of you makes him bold, thinking
you'll take his part through thick and thin. A sneaking, lying
little thief! Never does he do another day's work here!"
"Miss Bryde," said Beppo, with flashing eyes in which there were no
tears, "I not--I never did--not could--think I--steal--tell lies! I
speak de truth now, and then, both, only I did think Mr. Hayes found
something else, and I did want tell him----"
Here Jim Dawson, who had been looking on at the little scene, stepped
up to Beppo suddenly, slipped his hand into Beppo's pocket, and drew
out a peach-stone.
Silence fell on the little group. Bryda, distressed beyond words,
looked from one to the other. Beppo, with a strange expression of
face, looked at Jim, who stood grinning; and Hayes, after looking at
the stone for some seconds, as if to be perfectly certain of Beppo's
crime, pushed his hand more firmly into the boy's collar, strode to
the garden-house, put him in, and said, before he closed the door,
"Now, my lad, it's for your good. You bide there and think of the
flogging you'll get so soon as I've time to give it to you."
Locking the door on the outside, he strode away, with the key in his
pocket, leaving Beppo to his miserable expectations of the flogging
that he would get; no light punishment it would be from the heavy
hand of an angry man.
If Beppo was guilty, then miserable enough he was likely to be, with
the burdens of a theft and a lie on his mind, and the prospect of
punishment to come.
If, as he said, though appearances were against him, he was innocent,
then he need not be very miserable, for a good conscience would be
his companion, and the Friend of little children would send him
comfort.
Crouching down in a wretched little heap on the floor, he remained so
for some time, not crying, not trembling, but apparently thinking.
Then slowly rising, he knelt down in a corner, and, clasping his
hands, looked through the little window up to the blue sky.
He need not look to any beautiful angel now, whose help he used to
hope for. He had another--better Friend, and quietly he said, half
aloud, "Kind Lord Jesus, don't forget Beppo. I in great trouble,
Lord Jesus!"
Was he guilty, or not? We shall see.