Freddy's Arrival.
It was on an evening towards the end of September, that the train
by which Freddy Collins and his aunt and uncle had travelled
from Devonshire slowed into the railway station of the town of B—,
where the Dennis family resided. Freddy, a well-grown boy with a
healthy complexion and blue eyes, was feeling very tired and
slightly depressed. The previous day had been a long and exciting
one, beginning with the marriage of Miss Seymour and Mr. Collins,
and the departure of the bridal pair in the morning, and concluding
with a tea in the village schoolroom, and an entertainment for the
villagers in the evening.
Though Freddy really liked his step-mother, who, as Mrs. Dennis had
been delighted to find, was in every way likely to make her brother
a good wife, and was very bright and attractive, he did not approve
of the plans she and his father had made for a long trip on the
Continent, for he did not at all relish the idea of being banished
for nearly three months from his home, as would be the case
if Mr. and Mrs. Collins did not return till Christmas, though he had
often wished to visit his relatives at B—. As the train had sped
farther and farther from the wooded county of his birth, which he
had never left before, he had grown quieter and quieter, and at last
had fallen asleep, never awakening till his uncle touched him on the
shoulder, saying: "Wake up, my boy. Here we are at last."
The next minute Freddy was standing on the station platform,
being welcomed by his cousins, who had all come to meet him and
their parents. They talked so much and so fast that he felt quite
bewildered; but finally Edwin and Claude took him between them
and marched him off, saying that they would walk home as it was not
far to go, and the others would follow as soon as Dr. Dennis had
seen to the luggage.
"I expect you're hungry after your long journey," said Edwin kindly,
"but there's a jolly tea waiting for you. The wedding went off all
right, I suppose? I say, what a good thing it is you like your
step-mother!"
"Oh, she's all right," Freddy answered promptly. "I think you'll be
sure to like her too. She and father are gone abroad, you know, and
they wouldn't let me stay at Marldon Court with the servants."
"You'll be better with us," Claude told his cousin; "you'll like it
at school after a while, and we shan't let you be dull. You've grown
a good bit since I saw you last, Freddy; you're taller than I am
now."
"Yes," Freddy assented, smiling complacently, "I believe I am;
and I'm not so old as you by nearly two months. What a dirty place
B— seems to be," he proceeded, glancing about him in the gathering
dusk, "and how narrow this street is!"
"Yes, this is an old part of the town; in the newer parts
the streets are wider," Edwin explained. "This is High Street;
most of the business is done here; and here we are at home."
"At home!" Freddy cried, in blank astonishment. "Why, you don't mean
to say this is Uncle Jo's house?" he questioned.
"Certainly it is," Edwin answered; "I thought you knew we lived
in the main street."
Freddy made no response, but the quick look he cast around him
was more eloquent than words. He followed his cousins into the house
in silence, and after hanging up his coat in the hall, was led into
the dining-room, where a substantial meal was spread invitingly
on the table, and a bright welcoming fire burned in the grate,
for the evening was chilly, though it was only early autumn. A few
minutes later Mrs. Dennis and Poppy arrived. The former explained
that her husband had gone to see the doctor who had kindly attended
his patients during his brief absence from home; and as soon as she
had taken off her hat and cloak they all took their seats at the
tea-table.
Freddy's spirits revived during the meal, and he gave his cousins
a glowing account of the wedding. Poppy, who had hitherto considered
that a step-mother must be a disagreeable person, was astonished
to find that this one was young and pretty, and that Freddy heartily
admired and liked her, whilst the idea of being jealous of her
in any way had never occurred to him.
"Of course he doesn't remember his own mother, that's why he doesn't
mind," reasoned the little girl to herself. "Still, I think it is
very nice of him not to mind all the same."
"I hope father will soon be home," Edwin remarked presently; "I am
sure he must want his tea; but I should not be surprised if he has
gone to see old Mr. Henley."
"Is Mr. Henley ill?" Mrs. Dennis inquired.
[Illustration: "WAKE UP, MY BOY. HERE WE ARE AT LAST."]
"Yes. He sent for father yesterday; I heard the servant who called
say Mr. Henley would be dreadfully put out when he heard father
was away, because he likes him better than any other doctor
in the town."
There was a ring of loving pride in the boy's voice as he spoke,
for he felt great pleasure in the knowledge that his father was so
highly esteemed, and his mother smiled understandingly as she met
his eyes.
"I am sure if I was ill I should like to have Uncle Jo to doctor
me," Freddy said with a smile; "he's so kind and gentle, though he
is so big. He's just like a great bear in that old overcoat
he wears—I mean the one he travelled in, with the cape."
"Oh yes! he's had it for ages; as long as I can remember!" Poppy
cried. "Mother told him the other day it was getting too shabby
to wear, and he said he'd get a new one by the winter."
By-and-by Freddy was escorted over the house by his cousins. The two
rooms nearest the front door were given up as waiting and consulting
rooms for the doctor's patients, and a small room beyond served as a
surgery, so that the dining-room was the only apartment on the
ground floor in the use of the family, the kitchens being below,
and the drawing-room upstairs. Freddy found he was allotted a small
room next to the one which the brothers shared. The whole house
seemed cramped and shabby in his sight, but he did not say so,
and expressed himself satisfied with the arrangements which had been
made for his comfort.
When the children reentered the dining-room they found Dr. Dennis
there having his tea. As Edwin had guessed, his father had been
to visit Mr. Henley, who had been desirous of seeing him immediately
on his return.
"What is this?" inquired Poppy curiously, examining a brown paper
parcel which had been laid on a chair behind the door. "It's
addressed to you, father. Oh, I see, it comes from Dalton,
the tailor."
"I suppose it must be my new overcoat," her father replied; "I gave
the order and was measured for it last week. You may open the parcel
and look at it if you like, Poppy."
The little girl immediately did so, whilst her brothers drew near.
It was evident that new clothes were not of frequent importation
in the doctor's household.
"Now, father, you must try it on," Poppy said decidedly; "mustn't
he, mother?"
"Yes, do, Jo," smiled Mrs. Dennis, as interested as the children.
So to please them all, Dr. Dennis stood up and put on his new
overcoat, which met with unanimous approval and admiration.
"I really wanted it, for my old one is very shabby," he remarked;
"still, there's a lot of wear left in it, and I shall keep it
for night work, unless I fall across some poor creature who really
requires such a garment. I left it in the hall, but I'll hang it up
behind the surgery door."
"Oh, I don't think you'll wear it again now you have a better one,"
his wife interposed. "Give it away, then it will be doing good
to someone."
"Very well, I will, my dear; but let it remain behind the surgery
door till I see a deserving person to present it to. I daresay
I shall soon find such a one amongst my poor patients. I've an
affection for that old coat; it's been a good servant."
The children laughed. It had amused Freddy to see the keen interest
with which they had examined the doctor's new purchase, for it would
never have occurred to him to criticise any article of his father's
wardrobe, or even to notice it at all; but his cousins had appeared
quite excited as they had felt the texture and criticised the fit
of the new coat.
Remembering that this was the first occasion on which he had ever
been away from his home, Freddy's relatives did all they possibly
could to entertain him and render him happy with them, and they were
successful in their efforts for the first few days, when the visitor
was on his best behaviour. He was grateful to them for their
kindness, for the big town with its busy inhabitants, its dingy
houses blackened with the smoke from numerous factories, filled the
country-bred child with a sense of loneliness which his cousins
could not understand. The week after his arrival he accompanied
Edwin and Claude to school, where he found the discipline of daily
work most irksome, and his troubles began. In a very short while
he had made several enemies amongst the little boys of about
his own age, over whom he tried to domineer. In vain it was pointed
out to him by Edwin and Claude that he must not expect to have
his own way, or try to lord it over others; hitherto he had always
done as he had pleased, and had been a person of consequence,
but now he found himself one amongst many, and discovered to his
intense astonishment and chagrin of how little account
Master Frederick Collins actually was. The big boys took scarcely
any notice of him, or if they did it was only to order him about,
or send him on errands which they insisted on his executing, and the
younger boys nicknamed him "Greedy Collins," because he objected
to lending his possessions, and rarely thought of offering anyone
a share of the sweets which he purchased with his pocket-money;
it never crossed his mind that many of his school-fellows, and his
own cousins, were not so well supplied with money as himself.
Finding Edwin and Claude somewhat unsympathetic, Freddy made Poppy
his confidante, and poured into her ears the history of his woes.
She listened, and was sorry for him, but being a shrewd little
maiden, recognised that the remedy for his troubles lay
in his own power.
"You'll get on better with the boys by-and-by if you don't get cross
with them, and are more obliging," she told him; "you think too much
of yourself, Freddy, and you want everything your own way."
Freddy was taken aback at this very plain speaking, and he exclaimed
indignantly, "I suppose you think I am greedy, too!" Then as the
little girl made no reply, but looked embarrassed, he continued:
"I hate school, and I hate being here in this dull, dirty town!
It was unkind of father not to let me remain at home! Oh, I hope he
won't stay away till Christmas; I don't know what I shall do if he
does! Everything is so horrid! The house is so dingy and shabby,
and—" He paused suddenly, struck by the expression of his cousin's
face. "I—I beg your pardon," he faltered.
But Poppy was too astonished and hurt to accept his apology.
She answered not a word, but marched with great dignity out of
the room, leaving him to himself, a prey to remorseful thoughts.