A CRUEL JOKE
IT was Saturday, and, alas! a wet Saturday. The rain fell
incessantly, and there was no break anywhere in the leaden sky.
The twins were alone in the school-room, grumbling and squabbling
by turns. They were not usually ill-tempered boys, but the dull
November day was depressing, and they were at their wits' end
for amusement.
"What shall we do?" asked George at length, looking disconsolately
around the room. "Where are the girls, I wonder?"
"Looking over Stella's treasures, I expect," David replied. "What a
vain little thing she is! She cannot bear to be untidy!"
"Who?—Stella? Yes."
"What a wax she was in with you, George, last night, when you pulled
the ribbon out of her hair," David continued. "To be sure, she did
not say much, but did you notice how her eyes flashed? I thought she
was going to box your ears!"
"Not likely, she wouldn't attempt that! She's too big a coward. Oh,
what a coward she is!"
"Rather! She hasn't an ounce of pluck! How she shrieked when the cat
let the mouse go in the dining-room! One would have thought the house
was on fire. A town mouse ought not to be afraid of a country mouse."
"And how white she went! Dora's not so easily frightened."
"No, nor Nellie either, and she's only six, and Stella's ten!"
"Mother says if Stella had had brothers and sisters of her own she
would understand us better. You see, she's been brought up alone,
and that makes a difference."
"I suppose so. Anyway, mother takes her part, and is very fond of
her; and father says we are not to tease her. Isn't it nonsense?
It does girls lots of good to tease them. Dora never minds; but then
it's no fun teasing her!"
A short silence; then George glanced doubtfully at his brother, and
said hesitatingly, "I say David, wouldn't it be fun to play a joke
on Stella, eh?"
"A joke! What sort of a joke?" cautiously.
"Why, I might dress up as a guy and give her a bit of a fright;
or, better still, do you remember Dora told us that Stella used to be
afraid of ghosts?"
"Yes, I remember."
"Well, I'll put a sheet over my head, stand in the dark corner on the
landing, and when the girls come out of Stella's room begin to groan.
Won't that be a lark?"
"Oh, George, I don't think you must do that! I'm sure father would
not like it if he knew; he hates practical jokes, he says they're
so cowardly."
"Nonsense! There's no harm in it, because I shall drop the sheet
immediately they began to scream, and they'll feel such little
sillies when they see who it really is!"
"I'm sure father would not like it," David repeated, "or mother
either."
"Rubbish! Mother won't know anything about it—she'll only think we're
having a game; and father's out. Don't be stupid, David. What harm
can there possibly be in a joke?"
"Stella will be frightened! Don't do it, George!"
"I shall, and you won't stop me!"
"I shall tell Miss Clarke; she's in her room writing letters,
and she—"
"If you go near her I'll—" George paused irresolutely, and looked
at his brother with scornful eyes. The twins were generally together
in mischief, but George was usually the leader, being by far the more
daring spirit of the two. On this occasion David resisted his
brother's will because he knew his father would be angry at a
practical joke, and also because he thought it was a shame to
frighten Stella, though he did not mind teasing her.
"It's not as though she was like our Dora and Nellie,"
he remonstrated. "They won't mind a bit, they'll know in a minute
it isn't really a ghost, but Stella—"
"Oh, look here, David, if you mean to side against me when I'm only
going to have a little joke with the girls, you can stay here by
yourself, and not interfere. Only, no sneaking, you know!" and George
bounded angrily out of the school-room, slamming the door after him.
David sat down by the fire irresolutely, not knowing what to do.
If he told Miss Clarke, and thus prevented George from carrying out
his plan, he knew his brother would be revenged on him later on.
It was almost five o'clock, and the dull November day was drawing
to a close. David, looking nervously around, saw it was nearly dark.
He heard the clear merry voices of the little girls upstairs, and
presently a door opened, and he knew they had come out on the
landing. There was silence for a moment, then a little scuffling
sound, a slight scream, and Nellie's voice exclaimed, "Oh, George,
don't!" followed by a loud, hearty laugh of enjoyment from George.
David drew a breath of relief. No harm had come of the practical
joke, but even as the thought was crossing his mind the door was
thrown hastily open, and Dora rushed in with a countenance expressive
of the greatest alarm.
"Oh, David!" she cried, half sobbing, "Stella's dead!"
"Dead!" David echoed, his face turning pale.
"Yes, yes! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"
"She can't be dead, Dora! Was she very frightened?"
"I don't know, yes, I suppose so. She never said anything, but just
dropped down on the floor; and when I told her it was only George
she never spoke a word. She looks dreadful, her face is as white as a
sheet, and her eyes are wide-open, and staring dreadfully."
"You had better call Miss Clarke, Dora—she's in her bedroom; and I'll
see if father is in the surgery, but I'm almost sure he's out."
As David thought, Dr. Knight was away, but Mr. Gray happened to come
in at that moment, and the boy rushed to him excitedly, and clutched
him by the arm.
"Oh, Mr. Gray, do come! We're afraid Stella's dead!"
The assistant gave one look at the boy's face, and then silently
followed him upstairs. Miss Clarke had come upon the scene, and had
carried Stella into her room, and laid her on her bed. The governess
was bathing the poor child's face and hands with cold water, whilst
the children stood around crying, excepting George, who seemed
perfectly dazed at the result of his joke.
"What has happened?" Mr. Gray asked as he bent over Stella, and
looked into her wide-open, horror-stricken eyes. Miss Clarke briefly
explained, and the assistant listened in silence. Then he turned the
children out of the room, bidding them go into the school-room and
wait there. They obeyed silently, whilst Anna, who had come from her
mistress's room to find out the meaning of the commotion, went back
to try and reassure Mrs. Knight by telling her that Master George had
been dressing up for fun, and had frightened Miss Stella. Poor Mrs.
Knight, feeling nervous and alarmed, lay back on her pillows to wait
as patiently as she could for further news; whilst down in the
school-room the children, with the exception of George, who kept
in a dark corner, clustered around the fire weeping bitterly.
"I know she is dead!" Dora sobbed. "Oh, George, how could you do it!
Poor, poor Stella!"
"Poor, poor Stella!" echoed Nellie, whilst David looked at his
brother reproachfully. But George remained silent, uttering no word,
the fact being that he was too shocked and frightened to speak.
Presently the children heard their father come in, and his voice
inquiring where they all were. Some one answered, and he went
straight upstairs. They listened breathlessly, but half-an-hour
passed —an hour—and still no one came to them. At length, when their
anxiety was becoming actual agony, the door opened, and Dr. Knight
entered. Never had they seen him look so angry before. It was Nellie
who ran to him, and asked the question the others were afraid to put.
"Oh, father! is Stella dead?"
"No, Nellie, but she is very ill. George, come to me!"
The boy came slowly towards his father, and lifted his eyes to the
usually kind face, which was now stern and severe.
"George, I am ashamed of you! I can hardly believe that a son of mine
could be guilty of such a cruel, cowardly trick! Go to your room at
once, and do not let me see you again to-night!"
"Father, won't you please forgive me?"
"Forgive you! Unhappy boy! Think of the poor little soul you have
nearly killed, my only brother's child, entrusted to my care. Did I
not bid you to be loving and kind to her? You are not to be trusted,
George. It is only a coward who would try to terrify a timid girl.
Go, sir, go!"
George shrank from his father's just wrath, and slunk out of the
room, his heart brimful of shame and sorrow. He who prided himself
on his pluck and bravery had been called a coward, and had been told
he was not to be trusted; and worse than all, his innocent victim was
very ill—perhaps she might die after all.
Shut up in the room he shared with his brother, George gave vent to a
storm of passionate tears that left him exhausted and worn out. He
tried to pray, but could not collect his thoughts, and no words came;
only his heart was lifted up in agonized petition to Him who is
always ready to hear and answer even the voiceless petition that has
never found utterance from the lips.
[Illustration: "I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE THAT A SON OF MINE COULD BE
GUILTY OF SUCH A CRUEL, COWARDLY TRICK!"]
There was anxiety in the doctor's household that night, for the child
who had endeared herself to all by her gentle ways lay unconscious;
Mrs. Knight was ill from anxiety and suspense; and the little girls
sobbed themselves to sleep.
When David was sent to bed he found his brother crouched on the
floor, and essayed to comfort him. But George refused to be
comforted, or to touch the supper that his father had sent up to him.
"She will die!" he moaned, "and I shall have killed her!"
His anxiety was heart-felt and deep, and his repentance sincere;
but sorrow for evil doing cannot wipe out the consequences of the
sin; and the suffering he endured that night was a life-long lesson
to the thoughtless boy.