THE BIRD PICTURE BOOK.
FOR several days Billy was ill, so ill that he kept his bed, and
the doctor who attended him insisted he should have a night nurse.
Accordingly Mrs. Varcoe was engaged to fill that position.
"Such an expense!" Billy overheard Mrs. Brown grumbling to her
daughter, who came to Rowley Cottage, greatly concerned, as soon as she
heard of his illness. "The doctor says he's still suffering from shock
to some extent, and his nerves are unstrung. I never bargained he would
be as delicate as this."
"Oh, I expect he'll be all right after a bit," was the hasty response.
"I can understand how the thunderstorm upset him. Of course, you can't
work by day and nurse by night, mother; you've done wisely in getting
Mrs. Varcoe."
At first Billy was rather in awe of Mrs. Varcoe. He felt as though a
giantess had taken possession of him. But he soon discovered that the
giantess, in spite of her big, work-roughened hands, had the gentlest
touch possible, and that her shrewd green eyes often had a very tender
mother-look in them.
She was a silent watcher at his bedside as a rule, but one night, when
Billy was too feverish and restless to sleep, she proved that she could
be a good talker. He questioned her about her sons, and she told him a
great deal that interested him concerning them, and spoke of a letter
she had received after the eldest had been killed.
"It was from his captain," she explained; "just a few words, saying
my boy had been a good soldier and had done his duty. I ought to be a
proud mother, he said. And I am!"
Billy was deeply moved.
"Oh, Mrs. Varcoe, how brave you are!" he exclaimed.
He felt there was a link between him and Mrs. Varcoe, for both of them
had suffered through the war. He began to talk to her of his mother,
and that led to tears. She did not try to stop him, as Granny would
have done, when he began to weep. No! she put her strong arms around
him, and hushed him upon her breast. There, by-and-by, he fell asleep.
During the days he was in bed Billy was kept very quiet, but directly
he came downstairs again he was allowed to see visitors. The Vicar was
the first who called to see him; then each of the members of the Dingle
family came at different times, delighted that he was about again.
After that little May came every afternoon, and sat beside him on the
settle, talking to him about the animals and birds she noticed on her
daily journey from the village to Rowley Cottage.
"Get well quickly, Billy," she would say, "then I'll take you to the
woods to see the squirrels. Oh, they are the dearest, sweetest things!
You'll love them, you will!"
A wonderfully happy time followed. After the heavy rains a spell of
dry, clear weather set in. Every day now found Billy either in the
garden with his grandfather or roaming about the woods and lanes with
May. He never tired of watching the squirrels springing from tree to
tree, and he soon grew accustomed to the sounds which at first startled
him—the rustle of birds and the scuttle of rabbits in the undergrowth,
the discordant cries of cock-pheasants as they rose from the ground and
took wing, and the mournful hoot of the owls.
Once, on a misty day, he saw an owl quite close. It was white, save
for a few light golden-brown feathers in its wings, and had a round,
solemn, baby face.
Then he learnt to ride Jenny, and to drive her in the market cart,
too. One never-to-be-forgotten day he drove his grandfather nearly to
Exeter. As they neared the city they began to meet other vehicles,
and his grandfather changed seats with him and took the reins. He was
rather glad of this, not as yet being an experienced driver.
The first stop they made when Exeter was reached was before a large
fruit and poultry shop in High Street. Here William Brown unloaded the
contents of his cart—a quantity of winter greens and potatoes, and two
baskets, one containing dead poultry, the other some golden apples
called "Blenheim Oranges," the crop of one of his best apple-trees
which had been gathered carefully before the gales, and hoarded. Then
they drove to various other shops and did a lot of shopping, for Mrs.
Brown had given them a long list of errands to execute; and, later,
their purchases having been stored away in the market cart, they drove
down a narrow side-street into a yard, where they left Jenny and her
load in the care of a stable boy who seemed to know her and smacked her
fat sides familiarly.
"Nov for the market!" said William Brown. He dived his hand into his
trouser-pocket, and the next minute slipped half-a-crown into his
grandson's palm. "A trifle for pocket-money," he explained, with his
good-natured smile.
"Oh, grandfather, thank you, thank you!" cried Billy.
He had never had a half-crown in his life before.
"May I do what I like with it?" he asked eagerly, his eyes sparkling.
"Certainly," agreed his grandfather. "Spend it, or, if you like, you
can open an account with it in the Post Office Savings Bank."
"I think I'd like to spend it, grandfather." The market reached,
William Brown met several acquaintances who claimed his attention. He
suggested that Billy should go and look at the shops and come back to
him, adding that he would be there for an hour at least. Billy jumped
at the suggestion, for he wanted to spend his half-crown. He thought he
would buy himself a pocket-knife. It would be such a useful thing to
have.
He wandered from shop to shop, gazing into the windows. At last he came
to one in which were all sorts of fancy articles.
"I should think they'd sell pocket-knives here," he thought. "I'll ask,
anyway."
There were several customers in the shop when he entered it, so the
little boy had to wait a few minutes before he could be attended to. He
passed the time in looking at some picture books on the counter. One,
in particular, excited his admiration. It contained coloured prints
of all sorts of birds, wild and tame. "How May would like that!" he
thought. "I'll buy it for her!—that is, if it is not too expensive."
Turning to an assistant who had come to him, he inquired: "What is the
price of this picture book, please?"
"Two shillings," was the reply.
"Oh!" exclaimed Billy. "I can't afford that." He had hoped it might not
be more than a shilling. If he bought it he would have only sixpence
left. "What are the prices of your pocket-knives?" he asked.
"We have none less than eighteen-pence," he was told.
He stood undecided, thinking. May knew nothing about the book, and he
wanted a pocket-knife so much. Harold had one, and it was most useful.
But the book would be a great joy to May. Oh, she must have it!
When he returned to the market to his grandfather the bird picture book
was in his possession.
"Spent all your money?" William Brown inquired, smiling.
Billy shook his head.
"No," he replied. "I've sixpence left that I'm going to save towards
buying a pocket-knife."
He did not tell his grandfather then what he had purchased, but on the
way home, some hours later, he told him.
"It's all pictures of birds," he explained. "I'm sure May'll be pleased
with it."
"Aye, I reckon!" William Brown nodded. He had refused to allow Billy
to drive on the homeward journey, saying that it would be dark very
soon. But Billy was not nervous to-day, as he had been during his first
drive from Exeter. He knew now how sure-footed Jenny was, and that his
grandfather was a careful driver. By-and-by his grandfather began to
talk of the plans his Exeter acquaintances were making for growing big
crops of vegetables and corn next year.
"Every one's as keen as pepper to get as much as possible out of the
land," he said. "We men at home mean to show our fighting men we can
do our bit as well as they can. And may God prosper our labours! After
all's said and done, we can't do anything without Him! The harvest's in
His hands, you know, Billy! Ah! those who work on the land need to put
a deal of faith in th' Almighty."
They had nearly reached home now. A few minutes later Jenny was picking
her way down the cart track at the back of the house, her master at her
head. Then she drew up with a satisfied snort before the back door.
Billy jumped out, and ran into the kitchen, his purchase under his arm.
He had hoped to see May. But she was not there. Having known he would
be absent she had not been near Rowley Cottage for the day. No one was
there but Mrs. Brown.
"Oh, Granny!" cried the little boy, "look here! Grandfer gave me
half-a-crown, and I bought this."
He pulled off the paper from the picture book, which he put into her
hands, never doubting but that she would admire it. She glanced at it
with a darkening face.
"A baby's book!" she exclaimed scornfully. "The idea of a boy your age
wasting money on such a book as this! Your grandfather should have
known better than to let you!"
"I bought it for May," faltered Billy. "It all pictures—pictures of
birds. She loves birds, so I thought she'd be pleased—"
"Oh, it's for May, is it?" Mrs. Brown broke in, with a sudden change of
tone. "That alters the case. She'll be pleased, of course, and—and it
was good of you to remember the poor child, Billy."
She had never spoken to Billy so cordially before.