CONCLUSION.
"MILNER, Dr. Staples wishes to see you in his study."
This was the message brought to Herbert one morning in the late autumn,
just before they went into school.
"What is it, do you know?" said Herbert, stepping aside from the
group of boys, who were all talking at once over some matter of great
interest to them. "What is the row, do you know?" The messenger
happened to be his particular chum.
"Well, I fancy it's about the lessons. You see, old fellow, they
haven't been up to the mark lately. You haven't been exactly the
pattern boy with the lessons this half; and it won't do, you know, for
Staples to lose his pattern boy," he added, with a laugh.
But it was a good-natured laugh, and as he spoke, he drew his friend
further away from the boys and their debate. "I should go at once," he
added; "get it over as soon as you can, like a dose of medicine."
"Yes, I think I will. I have let things drift again, I am afraid,"
added Herbert, "so I shall get a wigging, and no mistake, this time!"
But either the doctor was not in a humour to give him "a wigging" just
now, or Herbert's admission that he knew he had not given his full
attention to his exercises lately, disarmed the master's anger. For
instead of threatening all sorts of punishments if the lessons were not
prepared better for the future, he talked, in a very fatherly fashion,
of doing the duty that lay nearest to hand; and that in neglecting to
prepare the lessons and exercises set by his teacher, he was not only
defrauding himself of useful knowledge he had been sent there to gain,
but would disappoint his mother, and set a bad example to some of his
school-fellows. So, for all these reasons Dr. Staples said he hoped he
should not have to complain; and Herbert promised that he would, in
future, give more care and thought to the tasks set him to do.
He really felt thankful that Dr. Staples did not ask him what he was
thinking of that his papers were so badly done. If he had asked this
question, the lad would doubtless have looked very self-conscious, and
the doctor would have thought that there was some mischief afoot among
the boys, which Herbert had been warned not to tell. Certainly, the
matter that occupied his mind could not be disclosed to the doctor.
He could not tell anyone about it, and his mother had forbidden
him to write to her about it; and yet the thought pressed upon him
continually, that this unknown aunt was in sore need of the money that
had been left by his father for her benefit. If he could only have
imparted his fears and anxieties to his mother, she would certainly
have pushed her enquiries a step further, and discovered whether this
Mrs. Winn he had heard about was indeed his aunt, and made sure that
she was well provided for. Now it seemed that he must put away all
thought of these unknown relatives, and leave them to their fate; for
he was neglecting his nearest duty—his school duty; and so, as he
walked away from the study to the large schoolroom, he determined to
put away resolutely all thought of this Mrs. Winn, until he should
return home at Christmas; and having made this resolution, he kept to
it, and bent his whole energies to make up for the time he had wasted.
But the effort cost him something, and his friend noticed that before
the end of the week, Herbert was looking tired and fagged.
This friend was a weekly boarder, who went home on Saturday afternoons
and returned soon after breakfast on Mondays.
When he came the Monday following, he brought a note from his father
for Dr. Staples, and then went at once in search of Herbert.
"I say old fellow, you don't look very bright this morning."
"Perhaps not; I have got a headache," answered Herbert, with a yawn.
"Well, my father will have to give you something for it, if it lasts
all the week; for the mater says I am to take you home with me next
Saturday. The gig will be here for us at two o'clock."
"But—but, Perceval, I don't know your people," said Herbert.
"What does that matter? We know each other; and I want you to see my
tame rat, and old Growler, our watch-dog. Oh! There's heaps of things I
want to show you; and as my father is a doctor, he may be able to give
you something for the headache you have so often."
"Thank you; it is kind of you to think of me when you are away."
A day or two later, Dr. Staples told Herbert he had received an
invitation from Dr. Perceval for Herbert to go home with his son on the
Saturday, and stay until the Monday. "I am very glad to hear, Milner,
that there has been a decided improvement in the way your lessons have
been prepared since I spoke to you. If there had not been, I should
have felt it my duty to decline this invitation for you. But as it is,
I will see that you have the same opportunity of preparing Saturday
lessons that Perceval has; and I have no doubt the change will do you
good."
Herbert thanked Dr. Staples; but he was not sure that he cared very
much to go home with his friend. He did not know Dr. or Mrs. Perceval;
and there were some sisters, he knew; and Herbert was shy of sisters,
even if they were ever so nice.
But he did not say this to his friend. Perceval seemed delighted at
the thought of taking him home; and so, for his sake, he tried to feel
pleased too, little dreaming what a great surprise awaited him in this
stranger's home.
The gig came at two o'clock, with John the coachman to drive; and
Edward Perceval asked all sorts of questions about his father and
mother, and all the family of sisters, and the four-footed pets that
were kept in the stable and outhouse, under John's care during the week.
Dr. Perceval was out visiting some of his patients when the boys
arrived; but the afternoon passed quickly enough in visiting all the
animals that the Percevals kept about the stable and barns. It was,
in fact, a small farmyard, for every animal was a pet of somebody's,
and by no means a common sort of cow, or goat, or dog, or horse, the
children having invested them each and all with an individuality that
made it a peculiar treasure, and quite a privilege, to be the owner of
such a superior beast.
They teased and chaffed each other about their particular pets, in a
way that perfectly amazed Herbert, although he could see it was all
good-natured banter.
When the doctor came home and joined them in that most delightful of
meals—high tea—they, one and all, turned to him and asked after this
patient and that, as though these were another set of pets in which
they were equally interested.
At last the doctor managed to say, "Poor Elsie Winn is very ill."
"Oh, papa, hasn't Mrs. Winn heard from her sister yet?"
And then, before anyone could speak, everybody's attention was drawn
to their guest, and Edward came round to his side, and unfastened his
necktie, as though he thought he was going to faint.
"'Elsie Winn,' did you say?" he managed to gasp.
"Yes; do you know an Elsie Winn? By the way, I believe Mrs. Winn said
her sister's name was Milner," said Mrs. Perceval.
The party round the table stared with open eyes and mouths at Herbert,
until their mother, out of pity for their guest, sent all of them
from the room but Edward—he still stood by Herbert's chair, until he
recovered himself sufficiently to be able to speak.
"I am not sure at all whether this Elsie Winn is my cousin," he said;
"but my mother had a sister of that name, whom she has not seen for
many years. I do not know her at all; but through a letter that came
into our hands by accident, just before I came to school this term, we
thought this sister might be alive; and my mother wrote to the lawyer,
Mr. Capon, to make enquiries about her."
"If it is the same, she has written to your mother quite recently, but
has received no answer; and to-day I found her almost in despair, for
two of her children are ill now, chiefly from want of food."
"Oh, dear! And there is money in the bank that my father left, in case
she should ever need it," exclaimed Herbert, almost wringing his hands
at the thought of this unknown aunt being in such need. "The Elsie Winn
I want to find won a scholarship, a year or so ago, and then gave it up
because her father died."
"Why, that is our Elsie!" exclaimed Edward and his mother, in the same
breath.
"And you know her? She lives close by here?" exclaimed Herbert,
excitedly.
"Well, not exactly close by; she lives in the village of Fairfield, and
that is nearly a mile and a half from here."
"But I can go and see her, and make sure that it is my aunt," said
Herbert, rising from his seat, as though he would set off on his errand
at once.
"Finish your tea, my lad, and then we will decide what is best to be
done," said Dr. Perceval, glancing at his wife as he spoke.
They could both see that their guest was very anxious to ascertain
whether the doctor's patient was his relative. And they both came to
the same conclusion, that it would be best, to satisfy this curiosity
with as little delay as possible.
So the doctor said, after a pause, "I should like to send a bottle of
medicine to the little boy—the sooner he has it the better."
"And I want to speak to Mrs. Winn," said his wife.
"Then we can all go together," put in Edward. "How shall we go? Are you
good for a three mile walk there and back, Milner?" said his friend.
"Six miles, if you like!" said Herbert, who was anxious to start at
once, to solve the uncertainty as to whether this lady was his unknown
aunt.
"If you walk, Ted, you will have to carry mother's medicine basket,"
said his father.
"Mother's medicine basket" was a joke in the family; for the doctor
often asked for beef-tea and jelly to be made for his poorer patients,
and this was generally taken by Mrs. Perceval in a basket that was more
convenient than elegant; so that Edward might be excused for a shrug
of the shoulders, at the suggestion of carrying mother's basket to
Fairfield and back.
But Herbert was too anxious to see this unknown Mrs. Winn, and so he
said, promptly enough, "I will carry the basket, if you will allow me,
for I hope you will let me go and see this lady."
"Would you know her, do you think?" asked Mrs. Perceval.
For Mrs. Winn had told her that she had had no communication with her
sister since she had been married.
Herbert shook his head dubiously. "I have never seen her," he said;
"but if she is like my mother, I should know her at once."
"Very well; you and Edward shall take charge of Mrs. Perceval, and walk
to Fairfield after tea; and I hope it may prove that this lady is your
relative, for she stands in great need of a friend just now," said Dr.
Perceval.
So mother's basket was packed with dainties, likely to tempt the
appetite of an invalid, and the boys were ready to quarrel as to who
should carry it, in spite of its weight and want of elegance; but they
were willing to take it in turns before they had walked very far.
Mrs. Perceval told Herbert all she knew about the family who had
come to Fairfield as strangers a few months before; and what a brave
struggle Mrs. Winn had made to maintain her family, until her eldest
was taken ill, and then she seemed to be quite crushed with the
hopelessness of all the efforts she was likely to be able to make here.
"If she should prove to be your aunt, I am sure it will be quite a
providence for the poor thing. For the letter she sent to her sister
was returned a day or two ago, marked 'not known.'"
"Perhaps she did not know that we had moved away from London a long
time ago," said Herbert.
"I don't think she has had any communication with her friends for
years; and it was only at my husband's persuasion, and for the sake of
her children, that she consented to write and let this sister know of
her great distress."
"What shall you say, mother, when we get to the cottage? Shall you
leave us outside, and go and tell Mrs. Winn a stranger had come to see
her?" said practical Edward, for they were close to the village now.
Mrs. Perceval paused for a minute, to think what would be best; and
she decided to take both lads with her. Edward was well-known, and she
would introduce Herbert as his friend, and see whether there was any
recognition on either side. And it must be confessed that the lady was
a little disappointed, and so was Herbert, for he could see no trace of
his mother in the worn, faded looking woman, who ushered them into the
sitting room.
There he and Edward were left to themselves; and, before Mrs. Perceval
came back, the question that had been like a nightmare to him for the
last few weeks had been answered.
On the mantelpiece was a small miniature of a lady, and he recognised
this as the companion to one his mother wore as a brooch, set with very
fine pearls. This was in a cheap frame; and when the two ladies came
into the room, he had it in his hand. "Pardon me," he said, looking at
Mrs. Winn, "but was not this in a brooch once?"
"Yes, it is the portrait of my mother," said Mrs. Winn, staring at
Herbert.
"And it is my grandmother!" said the boy, joyfully. "And so you must
be my lost aunt Elsie, whom my mother has been trying to find!" As he
spoke, Herbert went to meet her with outstretched hands, and kissed
her, as though she had been his own mother, in his gladness at having
found these unknown relatives at last.
Mrs. Winn was simply overpowered, and could not resist, although
she had been prepared by Mrs. Perceval to find in this stranger her
sister's son. Still, that any son of Herbert Milner could welcome her
so gladly, in spite of her poverty, was something for which she was
altogether unprepared. And when, a little later, she heard that the man
she so greatly disliked had left her a sum of money in the bank, in
case she should ever need it, she felt that she must have misjudged her
sister's husband as well as her sister, and that he could not have been
the hard, unfeeling man she had always thought him.
"I must see my cousin Elsie," Herbert said, when he and Mrs. Winn had
exchanged various confidences. "You see, I might never have found you,
if it had not been for Elsie giving up her scholarship, and that seemed
such a plucky thing to do, that when mother told me about having a
sister of that name, we made up our minds to try and find her, and sent
to our lawyer about it; but I think lawyers are muffs very often. Old
Capon has proved he is over this; for you see I have found you, aunt,
and I don't mean to lose you again."
Herbert seemed likely to lose his head in his delight; and he had to be
warned more than once that Elsie was ill and very weak, and that if he
went upstairs to see her he must not talk much. Mrs. Perceval undertook
to introduce him to the invalid, who had been told something of the
wonderful news.
"This is the new cousin whom Edward brought home from school to-day,"
said the lady, leading the boy into the little bedroom, where Elsie
sat propped up in bed to receive this stranger. The two relatives
so strangely brought together, looked at each other for a moment in
silence, and then Herbert bowed his head, and lifted Elsie's hand and
kissed it, saying, "I am very glad to see you, Cousin Elsie, and I hope
you will soon be quite well."
"Thank you," said Elsie, with the air of a little queen receiving the
homage of a sworn knight; and Mrs. Perceval was amused to see the quiet
way in which the two met, when they had been so afraid of excitement.
Herbert held her hand tenderly in his, looking into her white face with
such pity, that Mrs. Perceval, standing near, saw the tears rise to his
eyes, and thought it best to hurry him away.
Downstairs he was introduced to his cousin Tom, and was a great deal
more free with him. "So you are taking care of your mother and sister,"
he said; "and you want something to take care of in your pocket, too, I
think," and the contents of his own pocket was quickly transferred to
that of Tom.
And then he asked if he might come and see them all again the next day.
"You see, I am at school with Perceval, and I have to go back with him
early on Monday morning, so I don't know when I may see you again."
"You shall come home again with Edward next Saturday," said Mrs.
Perceval.
But Herbert still pressed to be allowed to come the next day; and it
was arranged that he should come early in the afternoon, and stay to
tea, and Edward was to come for him in the evening.
When he got back, he asked Dr. Perceval how soon a letter could be
despatched to his mother, for, of course, he wanted to tell her all
about his strange meeting with his aunt and cousin.
It was rather an incoherent letter, and whether Mrs. Milner would have
understood it is doubtful, if Mr. Perceval had not supplemented it by
one from himself, giving that lady an account of the dire poverty into
which her sister had been plunged through no fault of her own.
It is possible that if Herbert's letter had gone unsupported by that of
Dr. Perceval, Mrs. Milner might have scolded him for poking and prying
into things that did not concern him, as she had done before. But she
had heard from some friends of this clever and kindly doctor, and knew
that he was not only clever, but wealthy too; and, therefore, his
letter brought a prompt and satisfactory reply at once.
She was satisfied, from her son's description of the miniature,
although it had been removed from its original setting, that the Mrs.
Winn described in his letter was her sister; and she enclosed a ten
pound note for immediate needs, and also a letter for her sister, in
which she promised to come and see her as soon as she could travel; for
she was suffering from a bad cold just then, and would not be able to
undertake the journey to Fairfield for a day or two.
This was just as well, perhaps, for it gave the long-estranged sisters
time to correspond with each other, and so get over a little of the
first strangeness of their meeting. By the end of the week, however,
Herbert heard that his mother was to reach Fairfield on Saturday
morning, and he would drive over to Dr. Perceval's with Edward, as had
been arranged, and that he should meet his mother and aunt at Fairfield
in the afternoon. When he got there he found that a considerable
improvement had been effected all round. Elsie was able to come down to
the sitting room, where a good fire was burning, and Herbert found his
mother petting and making much of her niece.
A general glow of happiness and satisfaction seemed to pervade the
cottage now, so that the lad could scarcely believe it was the same
place he had entered only a week before, for then the chill desolation
of the sitting room seemed to strike upon him most cruelly. The
furniture was the same, the people the same; but yet how changed! For
now hope pointed with rosy fingers to the future, whereas before,
despair stared the widow in the face, and she saw nothing but the
workhouse beyond the present starvation.
Help had come just in time to save her from utter collapse—had come,
through each and all of the friends about her doing the duty that
belonged especially to them—the duty that lay nearest to their hand!
If Mrs. Milner felt somewhat rebuked for her worldly-wise method of
protecting herself, she made ample and practical amends for it, now
that she had met her sister once more. They always had been dear
friends, as well as sisters, in their early days, and so they became
again.
Mrs. Winn moved away from Fairfield the following spring; for nothing
would satisfy Herbert but that Elsie should go to a high school, and
finish her education in the way she might have done, if she had not
resigned the scholarship she had won.
Tom went to college when his mother left Fairfield, confident now
that she would be cared for, and with his mind free to give all his
attention to study, and to share with his friend Jack the few holidays
allowed during term time.
In the future, there was no lack of means for Mrs. Winn, any more than
there was for her sister. But it was agreed by all that this might have
been very different, if it had not been for Elsie's scholarship, and
the way she disposed of it.
THE END