YOU don't believe in coincidences, which is only another way of
saying that all things work together for good to them that love
God--or them that don't, for that matter, if they are honestly
trying to do what they think right. Now I do.
I had as good a time as most young fellows when I was young. My
father farmed a bit of land down Malling way, and I walked out with
the prettiest girl in our parts. Jenny was her name, Jenny Teesdale;
her people come from the North. Pretty as a pink Jenny was, and neat
in her ways, and would make me a good wife, every one said, even my
own mother; and when a man's mother owns that about a girl he may
know he's got hold of a treasure. Now Jenny--her name was Jane, but
we called her Jenny for short--she had a cousin Amelia, who was
apprenticed to the millinery and dress-making in Maidstone; the two
had been brought up together from little things, and they was that
fond of each other it was a pleasure to see them together. I was
fond of Amelia, too, like as a brother might be; and when Jenny and
me walked out of a Sunday, as often as not Amelia would come with
us, and all went on happy enough for a while. Then I began to notice
Jenny didn't seem to care so much about walking out, and one Sunday
afternoon she said she had a headache and would rather stay at home
by the fire; for it was early spring, and the days chilly. Amelia
and me took a turn by ourselves, and when we got back to Teesdale's
farm, there was Jenny, wonderfully brisked up, talking and laughing
away with young Wheeler, whose father keeps the post-office. I was
not best pleased, I can tell you, but I kept a still tongue in my
head; only, as time went on, I couldn't help seeing Jenny didn't
seem to be at all the same to me, and Amelia seemed sad, too.
I was in the hairdressing then, and serving my time, so it was only
on Sundays or an evening that I could get out. But at last I said to
myself, 'This can't go on; us three that used to be so jolly, we're
as flat as half a pint of four ale; and I'll know the reason why,'
says I, 'before I'm twenty-four hours older.' So I went to
Teesdale's with that clear fixed in my head.
Jenny was not in the house, but Amelia was. The old folks had gone
to a Magic Lantern in the schoolroom, and Amelia was alone in the
house.
'I'll have it out with her,' thinks I; so as soon as we had passed
the time of day and asked after each other's relations, I says,
'Look here, Amelia, what is it that's making mischief between you
and me and Jenny, as used to be so jolly along of each other?'
She went red, and she went white and red again.
'Don't 'e ask me, Tom--don't 'e now, there's a good fellow.'
And, of course, I asked her all the more.