THE BOOK-MARKER
Six weeks had elapsed since the day when Una had become acquainted with
Granfer, and she now saw him often, for she had become very friendly
with all the inmates of Lowercoombe Farm.
Mr. Manners, who was a quiet, reserved man, had never paid a visit
himself to the farm, but he allowed his little daughter to go there
whenever she was asked, and was pleased to see Nellie and Bessie at
Coombe Villa.
One beautiful May morning found the artist at his easel in his studio,
and Una busily employed at a small table with pencils and colour-box of
her own.
"What are you about, Una?" her father asked, noticing how absorbed the
child appeared in what she was doing.
"I'm making a book-marker for Granfer's Bible: I promised him I would
paint him one. Do you think you could sketch in the letters for me,
father?"
"I dare say I could," he answered, smiling, "if you explain what you
want."
Una held up the narrow strip of cardboard which she had been engaged in
cutting out.
"I thought I would put a verse from the Bible on it," she said.
Her father nodded, and taking the book-marker from her hand waited for
further instructions; but the little girl looked undecided.
"Could you help me to think of a good verse, father?" she asked.
"A suitable verse I suppose you mean." He thought a moment. "How would
this do: 'As thy days, so shall thy strength be'?"
"Oh, I think that would do beautifully!" she cried, and she drew near
and watched, whilst he carefully pencilled the words on the card.
"I shall paint the letters in blue and gold," she told him. "Granfer
will be so pleased!"
For the next half hour there was silence in the studio, both father and
daughter working industriously.
At last Una exclaimed, in tones of satisfaction:
"There! It's finished! Won't Granfer be surprised to see how neatly
I've done the lettering! Look, father!"
"Yes, you have done it very nicely, Una. You seem to be extremely fond
of that old man?"
"Oh, yes! I thought he was rather stern at first, but he isn't a bit
now! You remember all I told you about his son who was lost, don't you,
father?"
"Yes."
"Nellie says he went away to be an artist like you, and no one ever
heard of him again! That's why Granfer was angry with him! Granfer
wanted him to be a farmer, but he couldn't, because of his talent!"
"His talent?" Mr. Manners repeated in questioning tones.
"Yes, his talent for painting, you know. Nellie says it wouldn't have
been right for him not to have been an artist."
"What do the people at the farm think has become of him?"
"Mrs. Maple thinks he may be living still, and Nellie and Bessie keep
on hoping he will come home. They never saw him, because he went away
before they were born, but their mother has told them all about him.
Granfer thinks he must be dead."
"Perhaps he hopes he is, if he was such a trouble to the old man."
"Oh, no, indeed, father! He would dearly love to see his son; he told
me so himself! He says that he prays to God to let him live to see his
boy again! Of course he isn't a boy now! Mrs. Maple says he may be a
married man, and have little children of his own. I should like to run
down to Lowercoombe Farm this morning, and give the book-marker to
Granfer. May I go, father?"
"Certainly you may, my dear; but tell Nanny where you are going."
Una flitted away, and found Nanny in the kitchen.
"Off to the farm again!" the good woman cried. "Why, you almost live
there! That old man seems to be wonderfully attractive to you, Miss
Una. I can't think what you see in him to like so much, for my part; he
seems rather cross-grained, I fancy!"
"You think that because you don't know him as well as I do," the little
girl responded promptly. "His manner is rather stern perhaps, but it is
only his manner, and you know, Nanny, you always say that one should
never judge by appearances. I think he is really a very good old man!"
"You told me yourself that he drove his only son away from home, Miss
Una, and folks in the village say he has never forgiven him!"
"Oh, they are wrong, indeed they are! He has forgiven him! You don't
understand Granfer a bit!"
"And I suppose you do," Nanny said, laughing. "Well, run along to the
farm then, and give the old man your present. I'm sure he ought to be
pleased!"
Una felt sure he would be. With Crack at her heels, she went out into
the bright May sunshine, and passed through the garden gate into the
road. The hedges were full of wild flowers, and the air was sweet with
their delicate scents, the perfumes of hawthorn and wild hyacinths. But
Una did not pause to gather herself a nosegay to-day, though her soft
brown eyes dwelt admiringly on the wealth of flowers, for the artist's
little daughter possessed a beauty-loving soul, and her quick glance
took in all the glory of the May morning.
Presently she heard a deep bark, and in another moment, Mr. Maple's
sheep-dog bounded towards her in a transport of joy at the meeting. She
put her arms around his woolly neck, and gave him a loving hug.
"Oh, you dear old Rags!" she cried. "Good fellow! Good doggie!"
Rags approved of these terms of endearment; his brown eyes were brimful
of affection as he stood by Una's side, his big body wriggling with
excitement and pleasure. Crack jumped about barking and whining, for
though he was on friendly terms with Rags, he did not wish Una to make
too much of him. So the little girl patted Crack too, that he might not
be jealous, and with a dog on either side of her went on her way. At
the turn of the road she met Mr. Norris, who was looking about for Rags.
"Well, little Missy," he said, smiling, "I suppose this fine morning
has enticed you out-of-doors. I wondered why Rags had deserted me, and
I guessed some one he knew must be coming down the road!"
"Are you going for a walk, Granfer?" Una enquired.
"No. I have been to look at the sheep in this field for my son-in-law,"
he explained, indicating a meadow adjoining the road, "and now I'm
going home."
"Are you in a hurry? Please sit down here," pointing to a log of wood
close to the hedge. "I have something for you, Granfer."
The old man willingly complied with her request, and Una seated herself
by his side. She had wrapped the book-marker in tissue-paper, and she
now handed him the little packet, saying:
"It is for you, for your Bible. I cut it out this morning, and painted
it myself! Father sketched the letters for me, but he did not do
anything else towards it! I wonder if you will like it?"
By this time Mr. Norris had taken the book-marker from its wrapping,
and was regarding it with a pleased smile.
"Yes, I do indeed like it," he said heartily. "Thank you, my dear. I
feel quite touched that you should have taken so much trouble for me!"
"It was no trouble; I liked doing it! What do you think of the verse?"
"'As thy days, so shall thy strength be.' It is a grand promise—a
blessed truth!"
"Father thought of it," Una told him complacently. "I asked him to
think of a verse, because I knew he would be more likely to think of a
good one than I should. I shall tell him what you say about it."
"I have never seen your father except in church on Sundays," Mr. Norris
remarked.
"Why don't you come to see him, Granfer? He would be very pleased if
you did, I am sure; but you see he has not much time for visiting,
that's what he always tells people; he has so much work to do."
"Painting?" queried the old man.
"Yes. He is at home this morning; but generally when it is fine, he is
out-of-doors, because he is painting a picture of a little bit of the
wood at the back of our garden. It is to be called 'A May Morning,' and
it looks as though you could pick the hawthorn and the bluebells! Oh!
it will be a lovely picture when it is finished," Una declared with
enthusiasm. "I am sure he will show it to you, if you would care to see
it!"
"I should not like to intrude," the old man said gravely; "but I should
much like to know your father."
"I will tell him what you say!"
"It is possible he may have met my son. I could explain to him what
David was like!"
"David!" cried Una. "How strange! Father's name is David too!"
"Is it, indeed?" Granfer's voice was full of interest. "I suppose there
are hundreds of Davids in the world!" he added.
"Father and I were talking of your son this morning," Una said, "and I
am sure if father could help you to find him he would. You must come to
Coombe Villa, and see us; or, perhaps father will call at the farm. I
will ask him."
"Pray do so!" The old man rose to his feet. "My birthday comes next
week," he remarked; "I shall be eighty years old. I shall look on this
pretty book-marker as a birthday present from you, and I shall value it
as long as I live."