TEN SHILLINGS REWARD.
"MOTHER, how fast the days go by!" remarked little Dick one evening
after the other children had gone to bed. "The year is nearly out—only
a few days left of it now. O mother, don't you hope the next will be a
better one for us all than this has been?"
"Indeed I do!" sighed Mrs. Wilkins, and a hot tear fell upon her work;
she was knitting to-night by the uncertain light of the fire. "Life's a
struggle at the best of-times for poor people," she went on; "and when
the father of a family is taken, it's bound to go hard with those he
leaves behind."
"Ain't you straining your eyes?" asked the boy anxiously. "Do let me
light the lamp for you! We've been more sparing than ever over oil of
late, and I can't bear to think you may be hurting your sight."
"I don't need the use of my eyes to knit, dear," was the widow's
return. "If I was sewing, 'twould be different."
"But the room looks so dark and gloomy," persisted Dick. "And for
some reason or other, it seems more silent than usual. I wonder,"
turning his head to look about him, "what it is I miss. Oh! oh!" To
Mrs. Wilkins's dire dismay, he started to his feet and pointed at an
empty corner near the door—"I know now!" he gasped forth. "It's the
clock that's gone! O mother! Mother! Where is it? What has become of
it? 'Twas the one thing that father prized above all else we had, 'cos
grandfather gave it to him on his wedding-day."
"Ah, my child," sobbed the poor woman, "I have been forced to sell
it to Squire Filmer in order to pay the rent. The landlord was here
yesterday, and he threatened to sell us up if the money wasn't paid by
to-morrow. It's a great blow to me, but we must live."
There was a long pause; then Dick said: "O mother, however can we get
the money for poor Stranger's tax? O mother! Mother! Whatever happens,
we can't part with our dog."
Laying aside her knitting, Dick's mother placed a tender hand upon his
heaving shoulder. "My dear," she said, "the thought of it has worried
me nearly as much as the trouble about the rent; but I can't see any
chance of our being able to get the money to pay his tax."
"Then you really think we shall have to part with him?" cried Dick.
"Oh! God must be very cruel if He lets it come to that. I know our
Stranger wouldn't ever love other folks as he loves you and me and the
children. And if we sold him or gave him away, his new owner might kick
him about as—as some people do their dogs."
"Well, there's all next month for us to look around and try to serape
the money together, dear," the widow summoned heart enough to remind
her little boy. "As long as it's paid by the last day of January it
will be in time; and if 'tis right for us to keep our dog, why then we
shall find ways and means for doing so. Don't fret, child, more than
you can help. Whatever happens will be sure to be for the best. Now,
dry your eyes, and we'll have our supper cosy like in front of the
fire. If you lose heart, Dick, what'll become of us all?"
But though the old year died and the new one took its place, no sign
of better fortune could Mrs. Wilkins or Dick see. Stranger must be
disposed of—that seemed certain beyond a doubt; and if no one could be
induced to offer him a home, why then he would have to be killed. It
would be terrible indeed to part with so faithful a friend.
One evening at the end of January, little Dick was walking homeward
through the village by his mother's side, when a large, square piece
of paper, placed in a conspicuous position in the post-office window,
attracted his attention, and he paused abruptly, saying,—
"Wait half a minute, mother; I want to read this notice."
Mrs. Wilkins stopped at once, and together they approached the window,
whereupon Dick read aloud:—
"LOST, in this neighbourhood (probably a month
or six weeks ago), a small carved ivory match-box.
Finder will receive TEN SHILLINGS REWARD
by returning same to Colonel Flamank, Leigh Grange."
"Dick, Dick, my little boy, what's the matter with you? Are you ill?"
demanded Mrs. Wilkins; for the small face at her side had grown
suddenly as pale as death, and the child had clutched convulsively at
her arm.
"Ill?—No! No! No!" was the emphatic reply. "I'm well enough; only I can
scarce believe 'tis true!"
"What's true, Dick? I don't know what 'tis you're talking of."
"Why, the box, to be sure—the little carved ivory match-box that the
colonel's offering ten shillings reward for. See!" drawing it from his
pocket, where he had thrust it in disgust weeks and weeks ago. "Here
it is! Now we can claim the reward, pay dear old Stranger's tax, and
keep him; besides having a whole half-crown to spend as we're minded to
afterwards."
"O Dick, how wonderful! How like a miracle!" ejaculated the woman, with
a sob of thankfulness. "But are you sure there's no mistake? Are you
sure that that's the right box?"
"As good as sure," declared Dick. "Anyhow, I'll very soon make certain.
I shall go to Leigh Grange at once and ask to see the colonel. Then if
it's the right one, we'll pay Stranger's tax the first thing to-morrow
morning, and after that's done, we shall feel he's safe."
"Very well, my dear; I daresay, we shall all sleep the better to-night
for having the anxiety about the poor dog taken off our minds. But
why didn't you tell me you had found that match-box, Dick? You're not
generally so close about things."
"I didn't tell you because I didn't find it, and I could not bring
myself to worry you by saying how it got into my hands," was the
child's admission. Then, as they walked on side by side in the
direction of Leigh Grange, Dick narrated the story of his meeting in
the woods with Stephen Filmer, adding, "And I thought God was so cruel
to let that great bully rob me of the shilling when I wanted it so
badly. I little dreamed that things would turn out as they have."
And now that the silver lining had appeared to his cloud, Dick laughed
merrily at the thought of how vexed the squire's son would be when he
discovered what he had lost by not being able to restore the box.
"How shall you account to Colonel Flamank for having the match-box in
your possession?" Mrs. Wilkins presently interrogated. "If he asks
questions, you'll be bound to tell him the whole story that you've just
told me."
Dick hesitated a minute, after which he said,—
"I hadn't thought of that; and I shouldn't like to tell tales on Master
Stephen, though he did serve me shamefully bad that afternoon in the
woods. But there! Like as not, the colonel won't want particulars; and
if he doesn't, why then, I needn't give him any."
Arrived at the entrance of Leigh Grange, Dick bade his mother not to
wait for him, lest she should take cold by standing. Some seconds
later, he was walking up the colonel's trim carriage-drive, his heart
beating, his legs shaking beneath him, with nervousness and excitement.