MISS PRINGLE AND HER LODGERS.
MISS PRINGLE kept a small baker's shop in Dixtown, and carried on a
brisk trade; in fact, she was rather noted for her home-made bread.
The appearance of her shop from without did not betoken much business,
for the window was small, and had nothing in it but a loaf, a few
stale cakes, and half-a-dozen bottles filled with acidulated drops,
peppermint and ginger lozenges, toffee, barley-sugar sticks, and
bull's-eyes.
Behind the shop was the staircase; then came the kitchen. On the floor
above were two good rooms, and a smaller one which went over part of
the long passage that ran through the house into the garden.
It was a most productive piece of ground. The air of Dixtown was so
mild that all kinds of fruits and vegetables throve, while fuchsias and
myrtles flourished out of doors all the winter, and geraniums needed no
greenhouse to protect them from frost.
Beyond the kitchen was the bakehouse, where Miss Pringle might be seen
every morning at six o'clock kneading her dough, for she was by no
means an idle woman; she managed to conduct her business with the help
of a boy, who attended to the oven, swept out the shop, and carried
bread round to her customers.
Miss Pringle was a tall, thin, spare woman. It was difficult to
determine her age. Some said she was fifty, others sixty; but no one
ventured to ask the question, "How old are you?" And she was never
heard to mention any circumstance which afforded information on the
subject.
She made no friends, and rarely invited any of her customers beyond the
shop. Not a single inhabitant of Dixtown had ever entered her bedroom;
she invariably kept the door locked, and carried the key in her pocket.
This circumstance excited no suspicion in the neighbourhood, for she
was considered very eccentric, and it was looked upon as part of her
eccentricity. The real truth of the matter was this—she was a miser,
and secreted her gold up-stairs. When the house-door was closed to
customers at nine o'clock in summer, and eight in winter, and the
boy sent to his bed under the staircase, Miss Pringle began to enjoy
herself. She retired to her bedroom, and, fearing no intruders, counted
her money ere she fell asleep.
On the day before we make her acquaintance she had realised the sum of
two hundred pounds, which she kept in a stocking within a small wooden
box, secured by a padlock. For a long time she moved this box about her
room, never being satisfied that she had chosen the safest place for
it. During the last few weeks she had adopted a new plan, and placed it
inside a bandbox, which she put on the top shelf of a large cupboard
that faced the bedroom door.
"That bandbox will not excite attention if any misfortune overtakes me,
and I am obliged to let any one in here," she said to herself over and
over again by way of encouragement.
Miss Pringle never laughed heartily; she could smile faintly, but that
was all. It mattered not what conversation was held, nor what jokes
were indulged in, her face ever wore the same unmoved expression. She
was civil, attentive, and anxious to please her customers, but, as we
have said, she made no friends, nor did she wish for any.
She kept a most parsimonious table. Twice a week she dined off fresh
dripping and bread, and three times off bacon and potatoes; while every
Sunday she had a small joint of mutton, which served for Monday too.
No boy ever remained with Miss Pringle beyond six mouths. She promised
Mrs. Gillies that Tom should have one shilling a week if he stayed half
a year in her service, and she was satisfied to make this bargain, for,
judging from past experience, no lad pleased her so much as to involve
the payment of weekly wages.
Before we tell how Tom Gillies arrived at his first situation, and
entered on his new duties, we must speak of the lodger, who, with his
only child, occupied the front room over the shop and smaller one over
the passage, for which Miss Pringle charged three shillings a week.
His name was Newton. He was a widower, and a great invalid. Every one
in Dixtown who knew him treated him with marked respect, even though
clothes were shabby and his coat threadbare. There was no mystery about
his early history; it was just a simple every-day one of a man who
had never been successful, and who had no good friend to advance his
interests.
Mr. Newton lost his wife at the birth of his daughter Annie, and about
the same time his health, which was before so good, declined, and he
had to contend with disease and pain. He was not quite penniless when
he came to Dixtown two years before our story opens, and selected it
as a place of residence because he had a letter of introduction to a
gentleman there, and was ordered by the hospital doctor to live in
a sheltered spot by the sea. He never presented his letter, for his
ailments did not admit of his undertaking regular work.
Soon after Mr. Newton and his daughter, who had just completed her
fourteenth year, were established in their lodgings, an idea struck
him, and one which he hoped, if carried out, would afford him a means
of subsistence. He was a conchologist, and had studied that branch of
natural history for his own amusement. Dixtown at low water was rich in
shells, so he determined to collect the rarest specimens, and name and
arrange them in boxes for sale. In his boyish days, and long before he
felt the pressure of care, he had done this for amusement.
It took him some weeks of hard study to master the names of the
various specimens of shells he found on the shore, and then he fell
seriously ill. Just at this crisis, and when his little hoard of money
was exhausted, his only relative in the world died and left him fifty
pounds. This sum was a great boon to the poor man, who was no longer
haunted by the dread of starvation which must have come but for this
timely aid.
Many days passed before Mr. Newton was well enough to resume his
search after shells. During this time, his little daughter nursed him
tenderly. She was old for her years, and clever too. Her father, who
was no mean scholar, carried on her education, and she eagerly learned
of him.
"You must be a governess, so be diligent, child," he said.
And Annie was diligent; for she loved her father devotedly, and to
please him gave her the purest joy she knew. She was so anxious to
lighten his cares, and be of some use, that she tried to understand
what shells he required for his collections, and during his illness
spent many hours alone in searching after rare specimens.
Mr. Newton was obliged to purchase several expensive books of
reference. "It is not money quite lost," he said to his daughter; "you
may turn them into shillings hereafter, and I must be competent myself
if I am to be an authority for others."
It was a happy day for them when the first box of shells was completed.
It was made of card-board, and had a glass lid. Inside were two
layers of shells, which were tastefully arranged in trays on pink and
white wool. The upper layer contained five trays; in each tray were
twenty-four different kinds of shells. The lower layer held the large
single shells; the tiniest sorts were gummed on black paper. Annie, who
watched her father's operations carefully, so that she might render him
assistance when the second box was arranged, was delighted with the
success of this first attempt.
So soon as the final touches were put, the question—which had many
times been discussed—as to who should sell the boxes, had to be decided.
"Do not ask Miss Pringle," said Annie; "she will be sure to want half
the money we get. I have seen a little shop just off the High Street,
and a tidy old woman standing at the door; her name is Crampton; let us
call on her. It is a good situation for our purpose; the visitors must
pass on their way to the fishmarket, the pier, and the south sands."
Dixtown was by no means a large place, and most of the shops were in
the Nigh Street. But Annie was right in the reasons she gave, when she
suggested that Mother Crampton was the best person to find a market for
the boxes.
Mr. Newton had no difficulty in coming to terms with the old dame.
"It's not a good time for selling, sir," she said, hanging up the paper
he brought with him that invited visitors to inspect the shells. "We've
but few strangers in the town now."
Nevertheless, in four days a purchaser came, who gave the guinea
that Mr. Newton asked; and as Mother Crampton was satisfied with one
shilling commission, and the materials cost but two, he made a handsome
profit on the transaction.
Annie and her father were overjoyed. This success gave them an impetus
to go forward. And when a letter came from London ordering two more
boxes at the same price, their hearts were full of gratitude.
Before the next season, Mr. Newton had a good stock in hand, which sold
so well that he felt satisfied this new business would enable him to
live comfortably, though sparingly, and pay his landlady regularly. To
be sure, Miss Pringle's apartments were not spacious, but they sufficed
for himself and daughter; for Annie occupied the tiny room over the
passage, and her father slept on an old sofa in the front room.
Annie was a busy little maiden, and a careful housekeeper. She cooked
nicely, and could buy to the best advantage. Her knowledge had come
early. Because she was motherless and had an invalid father, she was
obliged to forego the pleasures which children of her age love best.
For some months all went smoothly, and then a fresh calamity threatened
Mr. Newton. He had felt his eyesight failing since his last severe
illness, and had a presentiment he might one day be blind. He could
not help dwelling on this fear sometimes. When he was depressed,
Annie roused him by her cheerful words, and reminded him that God did
not forget them. She and her father were not formal believers, but
recognised the wise Hand that overruled all the events of their lives.
The young girl found a true friend in Mother Crampton. On the morning
after Mrs. Gillies had informed the kind old lady that her son Tom was
going to live with Miss Pringle, she took a large box of shells to her
for sale. Her heart was heavy, for her father had said, "Annie, my eyes
are so weak to-day, I will lie down and rest them, while you carry the
case we finished yesterday to Mother Crampton."
"Do, father," she answered, "and do not be worried. I know most of the
shells by name, and can find some of the sorts quite easily. If you can
see well enough to make the boxes, we shall get along all right."
But, in spite of her words, she felt an inward chill when she thought,
"What will become of us if papa goes blind?"
Annie was a special favourite of Mother Crampton's. "I'm so glad to
see you, dear, for I've just sold my last box, and I've an order for
another from the same gentleman," she said, as the young girl entered
her shop.
"O mother! How pleased I am! My father will be quite happy to hear it.
He is very dull to-day, his eyes seem so weak."
"He must see through you, child. He will miss the beautiful scenes in
God's world at first, but he won't be blind in that other world. The
New Jerusalem will be far grander than this, and yet I'm told by them
that have gone to foreign parts, there isn't often a fairer scene to be
met with than ours."
"Papa says the view from the cliff, which takes in the beautiful bay
and castle-hill, with Norton Island beyond, and dear little St Helen's,
is a perfect picture; and he knows something about other lands, for he
used to travel when he was young, and has visited many grand cities."
"How is Miss Pringle, Annie?" asked Mother Crampton, turning the
conversation abruptly into another channel.
"As well as usual. Why do you ask?"
"Because I hear she is going to have a new boy named Tom Gillies. I've
known his mother a long time. I'm afraid he's not very steady. Try and
do him good, my dear; his mother doesn't love God, and I pity a boy
that hasn't praying parents."
"He will not stay long with Miss Pringle. She has had three boys during
the last month," said Annie.
"How do you manage to lodge with her if she's so particular?"
"We pay our rent regularly, and that is all she requires," answered the
young girl, smiling. "I think, if papa were to become blind, and we
failed in our weekly payments, she would be neither kind nor civil,"
she added, with a sigh.
"Don't anticipate trouble, my child; have faith in God when the rain
falls as well as when the sun shines. He doesn't forget His children.
You're growing older every day, and will soon be able to make the boxes
alone; and if I can sell them, you can keep the wolf from the door even
if your father's eyesight fail. Here's the sovereign I owe you."
Annie left her friend holding the sovereign tightly in one hand.
She had no great distance to go before she reached home, scarcely a
quarter of a mile. She walked by the side of some iron railings which
were placed at the edge of the cliff, and stopped when she came to a
gate that led by a narrow pathway down to the sands. Here a seat was
placed, and she could not resist sitting down to admire the scene.
The beautiful bay lay at her feet; to the north were a range of
thickly-wooded cliffs; in the far distance were sloping hills covered
with well-cultivated fields, and on the right rose the castle-hill.
"It makes a pretty picture," Annie said aloud.
"It does, dearest."
She turned, and found her father had joined her.
"What news do you bring?" he asked.
"Very good indeed. Here is a sovereign. The box I took to-day is sold
too."
"Thank God for that!" answered Mr. Newton. "O Annie! If I could but see
clearly, how happy I should be! But the scene grows so misty. Pray for
me, that I may be patient if what I dread so much comes to pass."