THE GOLDEN FARTHING.
"It's the best thing; I should not propose it unless I were fully
convinced that it is so."
Uncle Godfrey, standing on the hearth-rug in the drawing-room, his hands
in his pockets, was speaking with his usual decision.
I, who had just entered, feeling that I was interrupting his
conversation with Granny, turned to leave.
"Please, don't go, Miss Baggerley. We should like to have the benefit of
your opinion," remarked Uncle Godfrey.
"Yes, stay, my dear. I should be glad to know what you think," said
Granny.
So I remained.
"You tell her what we are talking about, Godfrey," she said.
"All right!" he answered. "Well, the subject under discussion is the
advisability of sending Chris to be educated with my sister's little
boy. She and her husband have just come home from India, and have taken
a house for a time in Norfolk. In a letter my mother had from her this
morning, she suggests the plan I have mentioned; in fact, she is most
anxious that it should be arranged. I think myself that it is a capital
idea, for it seems to me that it would do Chris all the good in the
world to have the companionship of another child. He is a capital little
chap, but I don't see how it can be good for him to have every whim and
fancy attended to as he has at present, by my mother, by you, by
everyone as far as I can see, except perhaps that excellent and
depressing young woman, Briggs. Oh, I know what you would like to say;
much that my mother has already said--that Chris is not easily spoilt,
that he has such a good disposition, and so on. All of which I grant;
but, nevertheless, I think it would be better for him in the end to have
a little less attention given to him than he has at present. Besides, he
would have the advantage of an excellent governess, who has been with my
sister some time, and, according to her, is a paragon of a teacher. And
that is not to be despised, it seems to me. Chris, of course, would
always come to my mother for the holidays, so that she still would see a
great deal of him. Now, frankly, don't you agree with my view of the
case?"
"I suppose so," I answered, though I was conscious of speaking
unwillingly, for I knew what it would cost Granny to give up the charge
of her darling.
"Of course you do," he replied, "only you don't like to say so for the
sake of my mother."
"The darling is very dear to me," said Granny, a little pathetically.
"I only desire what is best for him."
"I know that, my dear mother," Uncle Godfrey said gently--he could speak
very gently when he liked, in spite of all his decided ways,--"no one
could doubt it."
No one spoke for a moment or two, and it was plain to see that a
struggle was going on in Granny's mind.
"I don't want to persuade you against your judgment, mother," at last
Uncle Godfrey said, still speaking very gently, even tenderly, and then
we were silent again.
Then Granny said with an effort--an effort that plainly cost her much:
"You are right, my son; yes, you are right. I am getting too old to have
the entire responsibility of the child, and, doubtless, it would be
good, it would be more cheerful for him, to be with a little companion
of his own age. Yes, it is better that he should go to Louisa."
And then she got up and left the room, as if, for the time, she could
say no more. It was a hard trial for her, because love for Chris was as
part of her life, and to part with him would be a wrench that neither
Uncle Godfrey nor myself could fully comprehend, with all our desire to
enter into her feelings. Yet I think that she had never loved him so
truly as at that moment when she gave him up. For is not our love the
greatest when it is the most unselfish, when it is purified by
self-sacrifice, as "gold that is tried in the fire"?
* * * * *
It was such a bright morning when the little beggar left us; a cold,
crisp day in the beginning of October, the slight frost sprinkling the
ground with a white powder that sparkled and glistened like diamonds in
the autumn sun.
Uncle Godfrey had come up from Aldershot for the express purpose of
taking him to his new home, which fact filled Chris with no little
pride.
"Me and my Uncle Godfrey are going a long way together," he kept
informing everyone. "He has left all his soldiers to come and take me.
Isn't it kind of my Uncle Godfrey?" in a tone of devotion.
I imagine that had it been anyone else but his Uncle Godfrey it would
have been a difficult matter to reconcile him to leave his Granny. As it
was, he became inclined to be very tearful as the hour of departure drew
near, and clung to her in a way that, whilst it touched and pleased her,
made the thought of the parting more difficult to bear.
And now the little beggar, who for the last few minutes had been playing
in a somewhat restless fashion with Uncle Godfrey, returning between
whiles to Granny's side, was sent upstairs to have his hat put on.
Five minutes passed and he had not returned. Granny became impatient.
Poor Granny! who grudged losing even a minute of her darling's presence
when she knew that she was about to lose it for so long.
"My dear," she said to me, "will you kindly go and see if he is ready?
The dog-cart will so soon be round."
Hastening upstairs, I went to the nursery to bring down the little
beggar to rejoice her sight for the short period that remained before he
left.
As I approached the open door I heard Briggs taking leave of him, and
with more sentiment than was generally to be observed in the utterances
of that dignified person.
"And you won't forget your Briggs?" she said, kissing him; "and you'll
send her a letter sometimes?"
"A long, long letter; ever so long," promised Chris rashly. "And you've
wroten down the place what you live at?"
"Yes, here it is," said Briggs, holding out an envelope and reading
aloud as I entered:
"Miss AMELIA BRIGGS,
6 Balaclava Villas,
Upper Touting,
London."
"And you'll write me a nice letter, won't you, Master Chris?"
"Nicer than ever you can think," he replied, as she kissed him again
with something like emotion, and bade him good-bye.
"I'm sorry to leave Briggs," he said, as we went downstairs hand in
hand; "but I am dreffully, dreffully sorry to leave my Granny."
"Will I never come back to her again?" he asked, wistfully.
"Why, of course you will," I said, encouragingly.
"But I don't want to go 'way from her," he remarked sadly.
"You'll be a good boy, though," I said, "and not cry, or you will make
her unhappy."
"Yes, I'll be the goodest boy," he promised me fervently, "and I won't
make my Granny unhappy; not a little, tiny bit."
But when he saw her looking so sad his resolution somewhat failed, and,
standing by her side, he gazed up into her face with his great eyes full
of tears--eyes like violets with the dew upon them.
Suddenly, however, he brightened up, and turned to leave the room.
"Hulloa! where are you off to?" cried Uncle Godfrey. "The dog-cart will
be round in a minute, and you'll be nowhere to be found."
"I want to get something for my Granny; I want to get something very
badly for her," he said eagerly as he paused; "and it's in my coat, and
it's outside, where I put it, with your greatcoat in the hall."
"Slightly involved," Uncle Godfrey remarked, laughing.
"What can the darling be bringing me?" Granny said, roused a little from
the abstraction into which she had fallen.
She was not long left in doubt, for almost as she asked the question
Chris returned, holding aloft a little, bright, red leather purse, the
pride and joy of his heart. Opening it, he went back to Granny's side
and showered its contents upon her lap--two halfpennies and four
pennies, a sixpenny and a threepenny bit, and a bright farthing.
"It's all for you, my Granny, 'cause I'm going away," he said
impulsively; "all for you! The golden farthing and everything?"
"No, no, my pet; I won't take it from you," answered Granny, much moved
by this great gift.
"Yes, but you must, my Granny; it's all for you," he repeated, with a
fleeting glance of regret at the red purse in its splendour.
"My darling, I won't take it all," she said, replacing the money in the
purse, and putting it into his pocket--all save the "golden farthing",
which she kept. "But, see, I will keep this as a keepsake from my own
dear child."
"Yes, Granny; and you'll never spend it," Chris said seriously. "You'll
keep it for always."
"For always, my Chris," she said tenderly, with a pathetic little
tremble in her voice as she kissed him.
And now the dog-cart came round to the door, and we all went out into
the hall.
Then, with a hug from me, and many a loving kiss from Granny as she
clasped him in her arms, Chris was lifted up by the side of Uncle
Godfrey and driven away.
"Good-bye! good-bye! good-bye!" he called out shrilly, looking back and
waving his hand, till his little voice grew faint in the distance.
As for Granny, she stood still on the door-step, heedless of the keen
morning air, with one hand shading her eyes from the sunlight, while the
other grasped tightly Chris's parting gift--the "golden farthing".
She stood there gazing after the dog-cart till it was out of sight. Then
she turned in silence and went back into the house.
It seemed as if all the sunshine and brightness had gone out of it with
the departure of that little beggar!
* * * * *
Many years have passed since that summer's day when I found a little
truant sobbing so bitterly by the roadside. Granny is a very old lady
now, and my hair is becoming quite white. As for the little beggar
himself, the ambition of his childhood is fulfilled, and he is one of
the Queen's soldiers, having just passed into Sandhurst, a fact in
which Granny takes an overwhelming pride. So overwhelming, that I really
fancy if you were to ask her to name the greatest general of the future,
she would have but one answer for you. Cannot you guess what that answer
would be?
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
This title was published as the second half of the book _Unlucky_ by
Caroline Austin (eBook #35653). Page numbers begin with 161.
The publisher's name comes from the first half of the book, as does the
illustration.
Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,
every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and
intent.
A table of contents has been added for the reader's convenience.
Page 202, "Baggerly" changed to "Baggerley" ("Perhaps Miss Baggerley
would tell you").
Page 251, "Beggarly" changed to "Beggarley" ("Not even Miss Beggarley").