A GRAVE PREDICAMENT.
[Illustration: Decorative I]
t was a hot, close morning in July when Neville and Kathleen found
themselves at Paddington, waiting to start by the ten o'clock train for
Frewern Bay. They had rather a long journey before them, longer than it
need have been in one sense, for they could not travel by the express as
they were to go third-class. It had been decided by all the authorities
concerned that as little as possible must be spent upon the railway
fares, for there had not, of course, been time to write to Captain
Powys, and have his instructions.
Up to the last there had been some uncertainty as to the day of their
going. Miss Clotilda had named Wednesday or Thursday in her last letter,
saying that if she did not hear to the contrary she would not expect
them till Thursday, and would arrange to meet them that day at Frewern
Bay. But late on Monday evening came a note from Neville to ask if
Kathie could be ready for Wednesday. Mr. Fanshaw, who was to see them
off, had an unexpected engagement on Thursday, and if Wednesday would
not do, their leaving must be delayed till Friday. But this would not at
all have suited Kathleen. She was eager to be off, and even twenty-four
hours more at school seemed intolerable to her. And to Miss Eccles, one
day or the other, provided Miss Fraser could guarantee the young lady's
packing being completed in time, was the same. Miss Fraser, to tell the
truth, was quite as eager to get rid of Kathie as Kathie was pleased to
say good-bye to her. Poor Miss Fraser! her sharp face had looked a
little more amiable of late, and her voice had had a softer ring. She
had the prospect of a holiday at last, after two years' incessant work,
for so many of the girls were this year disposed of among their various
relations that Miss Eccles had given up the usual visit to Bognor, and
the young governess was in consequence to have three weeks to herself.
And Philippa Harley was to travel down to Cheltenham this same Thursday
under Miss Fraser's convoy.
'Of course I can be ready for Wednesday!' Kathleen exclaimed, when she
read Neville's note. 'Wait till Friday, indeed! And you leaving on
Thursday, Phil. I should die of dulness before Friday morning.'
'It'll be rather horrid for me on Wednesday,' said Philippa. 'I wish we
had been going the same day, as it was settled.'
'Oh, poor Phil,' said Kathleen, ashamed of her thoughtlessness. 'I quite
forgot. Never mind, dear; you are so good, you know. You wouldn't have
liked to think of me alone here all Thursday.'
And Philippa's impending tears were thus warded off.
Thoughtful Neville had enclosed a note, ready addressed and stamped, for
Kathie to post at once to Miss Clotilda if Wednesday was decided upon.
She was also to let him know at once, which she did.
[Illustration]
So on Wednesday morning a four-wheeler with some luggage on the top drew
up at Miss Eccles' door, and Neville jumped out. Kathleen was ready, of
course; she had been ready for half an hour at least. There was nothing
more to do except to give Philippa a last hug for the twentieth time,
and to tell her not to cry, and to be sure, quite sure, to write.
'And, Kathie, don't, _promise_ me you won't, give up looking for the
will,' whispered Philippa at the very last moment. 'Oh, how I wish I
were going with you! How I would hunt!'
'I won't forget, I promise you,' Kathie replied. 'But don't fancy
there's any chance of it, Phil. There isn't, I'm afraid, and you'd only
be disappointed. But I'll write to you, darling, I promise you.'
The first part of the journey was performed to the children's entire
satisfaction, for they had the carriage to themselves.
'After all,' said Kathie, 'third-class isn't so bad, is it, Neville?
And I'm sure papa and mamma will think it _awfully_ good of us to have
saved the money.'
'I don't know that they will,' said Neville. 'They will think it
sensible--as we're going to be poor it's best to get accustomed to it.
But besides that, if we hadn't come third, we couldn't have come at
all.'
Kathleen sat silent for a minute or two.
'Do you really think we are going to be poor always, Neville?' she said.
'Do you think there's no chance of the will ever being found?'
Neville shook his head.
'I don't believe there's the least,' he said. 'I'm sure Aunt Clotilda
has looked everywhere.'
Kathleen sighed.
'It does seem too bad,' she said. 'Things don't often happen like
that--in that story-book sort of way. I don't see why it should have
come to us.'
'I don't see why it should have come to poor papa and mamma--staying out
there in India just to get money for us when they'd gladly be at home,
or to poor Aunt Clotil'--
'Oh, bother Aunt Clotilda!' said Kathleen impatiently. 'You'll really
make me dislike her, Neville, if you keep on pestering so about her. I'm
much more sorry for ourselves than for her--she's an old maid, and I
don't suppose _she_ was forced to travel third-class when she was a
little girl.'
'A minute or two ago you thought third-class was very comfortable,' said
Neville. 'You change about so, Kathie. I don't understand you.'
Kathleen did not always quite understand herself. She looked about
eagerly as if in search of an excuse for her bad temper.
'I'm hot,' she said, 'and--yes--I'm almost sure I'm rather hungry. I
didn't eat much breakfast, Neville, I was in such a fuss.'
Neville opened the little basket in which their provisions were packed.
Miss Eccles--or Miss Fraser rather--had contented herself with some
rather thick sandwiches made of cold beef, and a few Albert biscuits.
But kind Mrs. Fanshaw had given Neville a little parcel of toast
sandwiches--toast and egg--which are much nicer for children and don't
get nearly so dry in hot weather as meat ones; and besides this, she had
given him some slices of home-made plum-cake and a few grapes and a
little bottle of lemonade, not too sweet--so there was really quite a
nice little railway dinner. And when Neville had spread it all out,
Kathleen's spirits got up again, and she did full justice to Mrs.
Fanshaw's good things.
After this refreshment they both got out their books and began to read,
but before they had read very long Kathie's head gave a great bump, and
half opening her eyes she discovered she had been asleep. So she shut up
her book and propped her head against the corner as well as she could,
and settled herself for a little nap, for by a glance at the opposite
corner she had seen that this was what Neville had done.
They slept comfortably enough for an hour or more, and very likely,
taking into account the sultry weather, they would have slept on still
longer had they not been awakened by the train stopping and some one--or
more than one--getting in.
'What a bore!' said Kathie to herself. 'Dear me, the carriage will be
quite full,' and in they continued to come. Two women with big baskets,
another with two babies, and then two oldish men, of a class above the
women apparently, for the latter were evidently simple peasants,
returning from market very likely, and chattering to each other in
Welsh.
The sound of their queer talk made Kathie a little forget her ill temper
at being disturbed; she sat up and listened, and Neville, opposite to
her, did the same. But after a while they grew tired of listening to
what they could not understand a word of, and they took out their books
and read for half an hour or so. At the end of that time the train
stopped again, and to their great relief the three women, the two
babies, and the two baskets all got, or were got out, and the brother
and sister were left alone with the two elderly men. When the train went
on again these two began talking to each other in English, though with a
curious accent, and now and then some words of what they were saying
fell on the children's ears, though without catching their attention.
Suddenly, however, Kathleen heard a name and then another which made her
listen more closely, and looking across at Neville, she saw that he too
was on the alert. The names were those of 'Miss Wynne,' and 'Ty-Gwyn.'
'Yes,' one of the old worthies was saying to the other, 'it is a strange
story. She was--was Mrs. Wynne, a good old lady, though she had her
ways, but she was not one to play a trick on nobody.'
'No, surely,' said the other. 'That was what I always heard. And she was
careful and exact.'
'She had not her match for that. She never forgot a promise, she never
but paid all she owed, to a day. No--no--there was no carelessness about
her. Why, last Christmas as ever was she came down to see my wife, who
was very bad with her rheumatiz just then; couldn't stir hand nor foot,
and now she's hearty enough and the poor old lady gone! Well, she came
down with a present she had made for her; she was wonderful handy with
her fingers, and my wife and she was very old friends. "Here, Ellen,"
says she, "here's a pincushion I've made for you my own self. You'll
keep it, Ellen, and show to your great-grandchildren maybe, as the work
of an old woman of eighty-three. It may be the last Christmas I'll be
here." And that was a true word, surely.'
'Dear, dear,' said the other old man. Then after a moment's silence he
spoke again. 'You don't think now, as she could have had any reason for
changing at the last? The Captain's a right sort of a young man by all
accounts--he can't have done anything to displease the old lady?'
At this point Kathie and Neville looked at each other. Neville grew very
red and Kathie's eyes flashed. Suddenly, before Kathie knew what he was
going to do, Neville stood up and went a step or two towards the two old
men, who were at the other end of the carriage. They stopped talking and
looked at him.
'I--I think you should know,' he began, growing redder still, 'before
you say any more of Captain Powys, that I am his son. And if anybody
were to say anything against him'--
He had no time to finish his sentence. The older of the two farmers, for
such they appeared to be, interrupted him eagerly.
'Say aught against him! Bless you, little master, if you'd waited a
minute you'd have heard what I was a-going to say to my friend here. Not
that he was a-going to say any wrong, but he's not from our part, and he
doesn't know Master David. And so you're Master David's boy, to be sure,
and missy there?' And he nodded his head towards Kathleen inquiringly.
'Yes, I'm his daughter,' said Kathie; 'you wouldn't expect to see us
travelling third-class, I daresay, but it's because of what you were
speaking about, our papa's not getting the property, you know.'
The old man's face grew very sympathetic.
'To be sure,' he said, 'to be sure. And you and master here,' he went
on, 'you'll be going to Ty-gwyn--to Miss Powys's? To be sure.'
'To Miss Clotilda Powys,' Kathleen corrected. '_I'm_ Miss Powys.'
'Oh, indeed,' he said, looking rather mystified. 'And miss--the lady
from Ty-gwyn--she'll be meeting you at the station, at Frewern Bay, no
doubt. It's a long ride from there to Ty-Gwyn.'
'Is it?' said Neville. 'I thought the village--Hafod--was quite near
Frewern Bay.'
The farmer shook his head.
'It's a good sixteen mile,' he said, 'and it's going to be a wet
evening. But if Miss--the lady from Ty-gwyn, meets you, it'll be all
right. She'll have got a fly.'
A very slight misgiving came over Neville. He began to hope Aunt
Clotilda _would_ meet them. It would have certainly been more
satisfactory had there been time to have had another letter from her
after their deciding on Wednesday.
'Are we near Frewern Bay now?' he asked the farmer.
'In half an hour we should be there,' said he. Then he went on to tell
them that he had been away for a day or two about a horse he was going
to buy, and that he was going to stay the night at Frewern Bay with his
daughter, who was married to the principal grocer there, and the next
morning he should be going home to Hafod.
'Oh, do you live there?' exclaimed the children, with fresh interest.
'To be sure,' he said. 'Not a mile from Ty-gwyn. A pretty place it is,
and many a time I've seen Master David when he used to be there as a
boy.'
'And a sad pity it shouldn't be his own now he's a man,' said the other
old farmer, by way of making amends for the speech which had so nearly
given offence to Master David's children.
'Mr. Wynne-Carr will never live there. He has a fine place already.
'Twill be a pity to see Ty-gwyn let to strangers.'
In this opinion, it is needless to say, Neville and Kathleen thoroughly
concurred. Kathleen began to look upon their two old fellow-travellers
more indulgently, and to allow to herself that there might be decent
people to be met with in a third-class carriage. But they had not time
for much more conversation before the train began to slacken in
preparation for coming to a stand-still in Frewern Bay station.
Neville's head was poked out of the window long before this, of course.
He had never seen his aunt since he was a baby, and could not possibly
have recognised her, but he expected to identify her somehow. And in a
little country station this is not so difficult. But he looked in vain.
There was nobody who could by any possibility be supposed to be Miss
Clotilda Powys. And he drew his head in again, for the train had quite
stopped by now, and it was time to be getting Kathleen out and to be
seeing after her luggage.
'Do you see her?' asked Kathie, as he handed her down.
Neville shook his head.
'It's raining so awfully,' he said. 'She may be in the
waiting-room'--for the station was only a half covered-in one--'or, she
may not have come herself on account of the weather, and may have sent
some one. I'll see in a minute. Just you get under shelter while I look
after the luggage.'
But when the luggage was got, and the train had moved on again, leaving
the little station all but deserted, the two children looked round in
bewilderment and perplexity. It was too evident that no one had come to
meet them. What was to be done? The terribly heavy rain seemed to make
it much worse, and above all, the information the old farmer had given
them as to the distance of Ty-gwyn from the station. It was impossible,
quite impossible to think of waiting; but yet again, where were they to
get the fly, or how were they to pay it if they did get one?
'I have only five shillings over our fares,' said Neville. 'Mr. Fanshaw
thought it was quite enough, as we were sure to be met. And I should not
like Aunt Clotilda to have to pay any extra for us when we know she has
so little.'
'But we can't stay here all night,' said Kathleen impatiently; which was
certainly true enough. 'And it's her own fault for not coming to meet
us. Neville, you must do something.'
[Illustration]
Neville looked round in a sort of despair. There were two or three
vehicles still standing just outside the gate of the station. A cart or
two, and a queer sort of canvas-hooded van, into which the porter was
hoisting some parcels, though it seemed already pretty full of sacks of
flour or grain of some kind. Neville opened his umbrella and went to
where these carts were standing, looking about him for some promising
sort of person to apply to in his distress.
'Can you tell me,' he began to the porter, but the porter was shouting
in Welsh to the man in the van, and did not hear him. Neville thought he
had better wait a minute, and he stood still, shivering with cold and
vexation, the rain pouring down as surely never before rain had poured.
Suddenly a voice beside him made him turn round; it was that of the old
farmer, who had till now been engaged in the stationmaster's room,
talking about the horse which was coming the next day.
'Is the lady not come? Is there no one to meet you?' he asked.
'No, indeed,' said Neville, 'and I don't know _what_ to do.'
The old man looked sorry and perplexed, but Neville's face brightened at
having found a friend. Just then the porter emerged again from the van.
'Hi, John Williams!' the farmer called out, and then followed some
colloquy in Welsh, amid which Neville distinguished the words 'Hafod'
and 'Ty-gwyn.'
The farmer turned to the boy.
'This is the Hafod carrier,' he said. 'He is going there now. He is very
full, but he says as it is for Ty-gwyn he will make a push and take you
and the young lady. But he can't take your boxes, not to-day. Still,
it's a chance to get him to take yoursel's, and if you can make shift to
do till to-morrow'--
'Of course,' said Neville; 'it's the only thing to do, and thank you
very much indeed, Mr.'--
'John Davis, sir, John Davis of Dol-bach, if you please.'
'Mr. Davis,' continued Neville. 'Kathie,'--for by this time Kathie's
anxiety had drawn her out into the rain too,--'you hear?' And he
rapidly explained the state of matters.
'If it hadn't been for Mr. Davis, the carrier wouldn't have taken us.'
'No,' said the farmer, looking pleased. 'I can't say as I think he
would.'
But Kathleen could not join in thanking him. She was tired and cross,
and not a little annoyed at having to make their appearance at Ty-gwyn
in such ignominious fashion.
'It's really a _shame_ of Aunt Clotilda,' she said. 'I do wish we hadn't
come. I hate Wales already.'