SELF-REPROACH.
Jack reached home again a little before six, and, just because he was
in a fever of anxiety to know whether Mr. Kayll was at home again, kept
strong guard over himself, and walked in as coolly as usual, for he
found the front door open.
His eyes glanced quickly round the little parlour as he entered. His
father was not there, and, moreover, there was such a cloud of gloom
upon everyone that the courage he had been keeping up all day suddenly
left him, and his heart sank with a leaden weight. What did this mean?
What new misfortune had happened?
Tea was spread, for in trouble or joy children at least must eat.
Besides, Madge had found relief from mental excitement in going about
her usual duties, poor girl. She was now walking to and fro, with the
baby lying quietly in her arms, its little face looking very hot and
flushed. The child certainly had all the appearance of sickening for
some complaint.
Edie and Bessie were just taking their places at the table, hungry
enough to be able to look calmly on any prospect but that of being
deprived of food. There was plenty of bread and dripping at all events,
and they had had but little dinner.
Mrs. Kayll was occupied in trying to console Jem, who would look on the
worst side of everything, and was very unhappy in consequence.
“What’s the news?” asked Jack in a low voice of Madge. “What about
father?”
“He’s remanded for a week,” said Madge, stopping before him and rocking
herself from one foot to the other. “That means that we shall have to
get on without him as well as we can for all that time, though I don’t
know how we shall manage to do it.”
“But can’t anything be done?”
Madge shook her head.
“It seems not. And mother says she _must_ get a lawyer to defend him,
even if we have to live on bread and water; or else there’s no saying
what might happen.”
Jack gazed at her silently for a minute. Then he asked:
“Has mother got any money?”
“Yes, but not much. Father gave a lot to those Colesons.”
“H’m. I think we boys ought to be able to earn enough to live on
somehow. I can do with very little myself. What’s the matter with baby?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem at all right, poor darling.”
They both looked round, for Mrs. Kayll had come to the table, and was
cutting bread, and talking to the little girls meanwhile.
“We must try and not make ourselves unhappy,” she said. “There are
so many worse troubles than this. All we have to do is to be patient,
and to be as careful as possible over every halfpenny. You three must
stay away from school for the present, and Jem must contrive to get
something to do, and with one thing and another I daresay we shall get
on pretty well.”
“But how was it?” cried Jack. “How could they mistake father for a
burglar if he told them his name, and his business, and where he came
from, and everything? It’s so absurd.”
“Not altogether so absurd as you think,” his mother answered. “There he
was passing the shop that was robbed at a time of night when very few
people are out; and though he said he hadn’t a penny about him, when
he was searched there were two pounds in his purse. It is very odd,
certainly, for though your father took five sovereigns with him, he
lent them all to Mrs. Coleson, and he couldn’t account for how he came
by those other two in the least. No more can I. If it hadn’t been for
them, I believe he would have been here now.”
Jack listened to this with a rapidly paling face. What he had meant for
a pleasant surprise had turned out a most unpleasant one after all; his
little joke had very likely done all the mischief. He had been denying
himself, scraping and saving for months, working extra hours when by
that he could earn a few more pence, and all for this! All to send his
own father to prison for a week, and to cause a great deal more than
what he had saved to be spent on proving him not guilty of theft. As
these thoughts came clearly before him, he stole unnoticed from the
room, and went upstairs to sit down in a chair by his own bed and cry
as he had hardly cried since he was a baby.
Down-stairs his absence was soon noticed.
“Where’s Jack? He must want his tea,” said Mrs. Kayll.
“I think he went upstairs,” said Madge sighing. “He scarcely stopped to
hear about father. He takes things very calmly, does Jack.”
Bessie coloured at Madge’s tone, and became her favourite brother’s
champion.
“Jack is too sensible to make a fuss when it won’t do any good. He’s as
sorry as anybody else, I know.”
“Well, go and tell him to come to tea, Bessie,” said her mother.
The little girl went at once, and found poor Jack with his face in his
hands sobbing. She was quite awe-struck, never remembering to have
seen him shed a single tear--her brave manly brother, fourteen years
old, who if he hurt himself only whistled, if he were scolded took it
in silence, if he were ill kept the fact to himself until somebody
found it out. Her Jack--crying!
She was half inclined to creep away again, feeling as though she had
no business to have found him out, as he had come away here alone. But
altering her mind she went and wound her arms round his neck, kissed
him, called him her “dear old Jack,” dried his eyes with her own
pocket-handkerchief, and cried too.
Jack sobbed on for a few minutes, then suddenly sprang to his feet,
dashed his sleeve across his eyes, and tossed back his hair.
“I won’t!” he said. “What’s the good? Don’t tell them, Bessie. I’m
worse than a girl!”
“And they all say you don’t care!” murmured his sister half to herself.
“Let them!” Jack returned proudly, pouring out some cold water and
washing his face vigorously till the marks of tears disappeared, and
the redness was not only in his eyelids but everywhere else as well.
“Does it show? Will they suspect me?”
Bessie shook her head.
“There’s no fear of that. If you went down with the tears standing on
your cheeks they’d only think you’d been laughing.”
Jack seemed relieved by this view of the case, and stood for a few
seconds thinking, whereupon all his composure vanished, his lip
quivered, and a fresh rush of tears came to his eyes. He turned quickly
away, fighting to keep them back, while Bessie took his hand and held
it, puzzled and half frightened.
“Is it all about father?” she asked timidly.
“It’s all,” began the boy, choking back a sob, “because I was such a
great stupid idiot! Don’t tell the others, but those two pounds were
mine. I worked so hard, and saved them--to please father when he was
hard up, and then instead of just giving them to him and saying so, I
must put them in his purse for a joke, and make no end of mischief.”
“Never mind, Jack. It can’t be helped. And they can tell the magistrate
so, you know, and then it will be all right.”
“Not for a week!” groaned Jack, washing his face again. “There! That’s
over!” he added, drying it vigorously. “You won’t see me make such a
goose of myself again in a hurry. Bessie, if you tell anyone I’ve been
crying I’ll never forgive you.”