sad; "but you see I wanted to help. As he was saying to me this morning,
he will have many more chances than I when he gets bigger and goes out
to India to do good to people. I shall have to stop at home now, for I
shall never be able to ride, he will have all the big opportunities, and
I must be content with the little ones."
"You talk like a little old grandfather, sometimes," said Miss Bertram,
laughing, as she sat down beside him. "You must make the most of David
while he is with you, for I have heard from his stepfather this morning,
and he wishes him sent to school at once."
Roy's eyes opened wide.
"But I shall go too, shan't I, Aunt Judy?"
"I am afraid not just yet. You are not fit to rough it; besides we
couldn't lose both our boys!"
"But I must go if Dudley goes, I must!" and Roy's tone was passionate
now. "I won't have him go away from me--I've lost Rob, and that is bad
enough--You wouldn't take Dudley away from me, too, Aunt Judy!"
"Hush, hush, we will not talk any more about it now. He will not go
till after Easter, and that won't be here yet."
Miss Bertram was sorry she had broached the subject, when she saw Roy's
distress, and going downstairs sent Dudley up to play with him.
Later on when she was sitting with her mother in the drawing-room a
small head appeared. "May I come in, granny?"
It was Dudley, and his round and rosy face was unusually solemn.
Marching in he took up his position on the hearth-rug, his back to the
fire, and with his hands deep in his pockets, he turned his face rather
defiantly toward his grandmother.
"Granny, I'm not going to school without Roy."
"Hoighty-toity! What next, I wonder. Is that the way for little boys to
speak to their elders. You will do what you are told as long as you are
in my house, as your father did before you."
"It is your stepfather's wish," put in Miss Bertram; "you ought to be
willing to obey him."
"Not if he tells me to do something wrong. And I'm sure it would be
quite a wrong thing for me to go away from Roy. We have promised never
to leave each other till we grow up, and we don't mean to break our
promise. And, granny, I'm sure you don't like broken promises. Father
doesn't know about Roy, and he can't understand like I do, and it would
be very wrong of him if he took me away from Roy!"
Mrs. Bertram put on her glasses and inspected her little grandson with
searching eyes.
"That is a most disrespectful speech, Dudley. I shall of course uphold
your father's wishes."
"But, granny, I can't leave Roy. It will break his heart. You don't know
how he frets about his leg. He doesn't say much and is always so
cheerful, but he misses me most awfully even if I'm away for a day. If
he was well and strong, he could get on first-rate, but he wouldn't get
about half so much if I didn't take him. I think he would mope and mope
all by himself. And I don't think we could live without each other. You
won't send me away, will you?"
Tears were filling Dudley's blue eyes, but Mrs. Bertram looked
displeased.
"In my days, children never thought of arguing with their elders. I
think your aunt and I are as capable of taking care of Roy as you are.
Now leave the room, and do not refer to the matter again."
Then Dudley astonished his grandmother by the first exhibition of
temper that he had ever displayed before her.
"I _won't_ be separated from Roy. If you send me to school, I shall run
away, and I shall write and tell father the reason!"
A stamp of the foot emphasized this passionate speech, and then Dudley
fled from the room, banging the door violently behind him.
As on a former occasion he now took himself and his grief to old
Principle. It was early-closing day in the village, and he found the old
man just locking up his door prepared for a ramble.
"Come along up to the hills with me, laddie," he said, after hearing the
trouble; "there's nothing like fresh air for blowing away a fit of the
dumps. I am going to the cave again--will you come with me?"
"Yes, I will. I've been in an awful temper in granny's room, and banged
her door. I don't think she'll ever forgive me!"
"'Tis like this, Master Dudley," said old Principle, presently, as they
walked over the hills together; "if it's right for you to go, there's
nothing to be said, and you must fall in with it whether you like it or
no."
"But it can't be right for me to leave Roy when he wants me."
"It may be the best thing in the world for him and you, if it is to be.
'Tis a bad principle to determine whether a thing is right or wrong,
according to our liking."
"It's a cruel thing to part us!" said Dudley, doggedly.
"But may be a way will be found out of the difficulty by Master Roy
going with you."
"They say he isn't strong enough. That wetting in the rain has made him
bad again."
"Well now I should ask the good Lord to make him strong enough. There's
time between this and Easter."
Dudley brightened up at once.
"Do you think he might be strong enough? I should be able to take great
care of him, and I would, too. And he's so plucky, that I'm sure the
other boys would be good to him."
The cave was reached, and in the interest of watching excavation going
on Dudley was soon his bright self again.
He came home radiant, with a match-box full of tiny shells for Roy who
was waiting for him in the nursery.
"You have been away a time," he said, wearily: "I'm sure I'm well enough
to go out now. I can't bear the winter. It means so many colds and
aches."
"Well, you're going to get better very soon, and look here, old chap! If
you try your very best, perhaps the old doctor will give you leave to
come to school with me after Easter."
Roy's eyes sparkled at the thought.
"Nurse always makes such a molly-coddle of me, and so does granny; but
I'll try as hard as I can to be better."
"And now just look at these! Old Principle says these show that the sea
must have washed up amongst the hills and into his cave hundreds of
years ago, for these belong to salt water fish not river ones. Look at
them! 'Fossils' he calls them, they're shells made out of stone. He told
me I might give you these from him. I thought he would never go back to
his cave again after last December, but he says he feels so much
stronger now; and he is very careful how he digs; he won't let me come
near him while he does it. And he told me he has been busy writing a
paper which he is going to send to some society in London--I forget its
name. He is what you call a discoverer, isn't he?"
Roy nodded, then asked anxiously:
"Dudley, were you rude to granny before you went out? Aunt Judy came to
look for you here, and she said she hoped you were going to beg granny's
pardon for something."
"I'll go now, I had almost forgotten."
And Dudley trotted off to his grandmother's room. She received him
sternly, but he was so abjectly penitent that she soon forgave him, and
he returned to Roy with a relieved mind.
"It's a dreadful thing to have a temper," he remarked, as he sat upon
the nursery table swinging his legs to and fro; "I've given granny an
awful headache by the way I banged her door."
"What was it about?" asked Roy, with interest.
"About school," was the answer; "I told her I wasn't going away from
you."
"I've been thinking of it a lot," said Roy, with a sigh; "but you'll
have to go, and I shall get on pretty well without you. You see a boy
with one leg wouldn't be much good amongst a lot of other boys. They
would only call him a cripple and push him aside. I shouldn't like them
to laugh at me. The only thing for me is a cripple school. Nurse has a
little grandson at one. I don't much care for cripples, those I've seen
seem very poor creatures with no fun in them, but of course I'm one
myself now; only I don't feel like it."
"You're no more a cripple than I am," was Dudley's indignant rejoinder,
"why no one would tell anything was the matter with you to look at you."
"We won't talk any more about it," said Roy, "I'm hungry and I hear tea
coming."
But both the little hearts were very full of a possible separation, and
for some days after it lay like a heavy nightmare on them. Then a letter
arrived from Rob which turned the current of their thoughts. It was his
first letter from India, and the boys looked at the foreign stamps and
paper, as if it were the greatest rarity on earth.
"MY DEAR MASTER ROY:
"I write to tell you we are safely here
and I am quite well as I hope you are. It is
very hot, but we don't do much work in the
middle of the day and I like the place. I wish
you could see the flowers and the black men
and the funny houses and the colored dresses
of the people. I am getting on, I hope, and
my sergeant told me the other day I might
get the stripe soon if I liked. I will keep a
lookout as you told me for Master Dudley's
father, but they say India is a bigger place
than England, which I don't believe, for we're
the grandest nation in the world, and the biggest
and the best, all of us in the barrack-room
agree to that. I saw a scorpion to-day
which pinches when it catches you and draws
the blood awful. There is a mountain battery
with us now, and they use mules instead of
horses, the hills are higher than those at home
and it's hard work going up. There is not
any fighting yet, but I am ready for it when
it comes, and will do my duty to the Queen
and you. My chum has helped me write this
letter and I hope it pleases you. I am trying
to endure hardness. Good-bye, Master Roy,
"Your faithful ROB.
"God bless you."
"That's a much nicer letter, isn't it?" said Roy, in great delight;
"that is quite as long as the one I sent him. I hope he will get some
fighting soon."
"Supposing if he does, and gets killed?" suggested Dudley.
But Roy put this thought away from him.
"I've known such lots of soldiers in books that come home, that I think
he will. Besides God will take care of him. Do you remember the picture
gallery at the general's the other day, Dudley?"
"Yes, what about it?"
"I was thinking about that soldier there with all his medals who broke
his mother's heart; and then about the soldier boy the general said was
the bravest. I suppose I would rather Rob was properly brave like that,
than do great things in battle; but I should think he might do both,
don't you think so?"
And Dudley nodded, adding, "Rob won't drink or gamble, I'm quite sure."
XVI
DAVID AND JONATHAN
Easter came, and to the boys' great delight Roy was so much stronger
that it was settled he might accompany Dudley to a private boarding
school for one term. Thanks were due to Miss Bertram for this
arrangement; and she had great difficulty in obtaining her mother's
consent to it.
"I am sure the boys will get on best together; Roy will have a better
chance of growing strong if he is with Dudley than if he is to mope by
himself here. If we find he does not keep well, we can have him home
again; and from all we hear of the school, the boys are most carefully
looked after."
And certainly to judge from Roy's appearance and spirits, this plan
seemed most successful. It was a bright morning in April. The air was
cold but dry, and the old garden was sweet with the scent of hyacinths
and narcissuses. Bright beds of tulips and polyanthuses bordered the
green lawn, and old Hal was surveying the results of his work with pride
and satisfaction. Miss Bertram, in her leather gloves and garden apron,
was busy in and out of the hothouses; and the boys, after scampering
round in every one's way, had at last scrambled up to their favorite
seat on the garden wall.
"This time next week we shall be at school," said Dudley; "how funny we
shall feel!"
"We shan't be able to climb walls there, I suppose."
"On half-holidays, perhaps we shall. It isn't all lessons; old Selby
told us the happiest time of his life was when he was at school."
"I mean to be happy," said Roy, a smile hovering about his lips.
"And so do I," maintained Dudley, stoutly; "but it will be awfully
strange at first. It's like Rob going off to be a soldier. We're going
out 'to see life' nurse says."
"Old Principle wants us to come to tea with him before we go. I saw him
this morning going past our gate. He'll give us some of his good advice
like he did Rob, but I don't mind him, he's such a jolly old chap."
There was silence between them for a few minutes. Dudley was eating a
slice of cake which he had brought out of the house with him, and Roy
was dreamily watching the figures of his aunt and the old gardener
moving about amongst the bright colored flower beds.
"Dudley, we'll always keep friends, won't we?"
"Of course we will."
"But I dare say you'll have a lot of fellows at school who can get about
quicker with you than I can; and I don't want to keep you back. I only
want you to like me still best in your heart."
"Now look here, old chap! You know that I couldn't like any other fellow
better than you. You're much more likely to have a lot of chums than I
am, because you're so clever. Look at Rob; he used to think nothing of
me at all, and I got to think you didn't want me with you, after he
came."
"That was awful rot then, because we two are quite different to any
other people. Only it would be a good thing to have a fresh promise
together; a kind of Bible covenant, you know, before we go to school."
"All right, here goes, then! Let us have your fists--now then, hear me!
I, Dudley Bertram, vow and declare that Fitz Roy Bertram shall continue
to be my dearest and nearest chum from this time forth, forevermore.
Amen."
Roy grasped Dudley's hands eagerly and earnestly, and repeated his vow
in the same words, perhaps with additional emphasis; then with a sigh of
relief, he turned to chatter of other things.
Shortly after Miss Bertram came up to them with a newspaper in her
hand.
"Granny has just sent out this paper to me, boys. She thought you would
like to know that the troops in the place where Rob is, have all been
sent out on some expedition against a rebel chief in the mountains, so
he will have some fighting now."
"Hurrah!" shouted Dudley, "don't I wish I was with him! Does the
newspaper mention his name, Aunt Judy?"
"When shall we have a letter from him?"
"Not for some time yet, because this is telegraphed. It will be all over
before we hear. We must hope and pray that Rob may be kept safely
through it."
Miss Bertram looked grave, and the boys sobered down at once.
"But, Aunt Judy, of course fighting is dreadful, but it is a soldier's
duty, isn't it?"
"And Rob is sure to do his duty."
"Yes, boys, we will hope he will serve his Queen as well as he served us
whilst here. Rob was a good boy: I wish there were more like him."
And Miss Bertram moved away, whilst her little nephews worked off their
excitement at this news, by jumping down from the wall, and performing a
mimic battle in the pine wood outside. Very eagerly and impatiently did
they look for a letter before they went off to school, but none came;
and the last word that Roy said as he was leaving the house was,--
"Mind, Aunt Judy, you send on my letter when it comes as quick as
lightning!"
It was rather an ordeal for both the boys when the last leave-takings of
all at home came. The old nurse wept profusely, and was only comforted
by the assurance that she should go to her charges on the very first
intimation of illness. Mrs. Bertram gave them such warnings against
choosing evil companions, and becoming depraved in principles, that the
boys were quite awed and depressed; and the servants, one and all,
expressed such pity and sympathy for their departure, that Dudley at
last confided to Roy:
"If we were going to prison they couldn't look more shocked and gloomy."
General Newton insisted upon taking them himself to school.
"It looks well," he said to Miss Bertram, a little pompously; "for the
boys to have a man at their back, and I will have a few words with the
principal myself about Roy's delicacy of constitution. It will come with
more force from me than from you."
So the general was allowed to have his way, and by the time the boys
were in the train with a large packet of sandwiches and cakes to while
away the time, their spirits rose, and they declared that going off to
school was "the jolliest thing out."
It was late in the evening when they reached their destination. The
school was not far from the sea, and the clergyman who kept it would
never have more than thirty boarders; his wife, a sweet-faced
gentlewoman, received the boys most kindly, and General Newton came away
satisfied that it would prove a happy home as well as a good training
for the motherless boys.
Dudley and Roy were not long in making themselves at home; their high
spirits made them general favorites amongst the boys; and even Roy did
not feel himself out of place in the playground, whilst in the
schoolroom he proved a quick and intelligent pupil.
"The boys are happy, mother," said Miss Bertram one morning going into
her mother's room and handing her two letters; "and Mrs. Hawthorn has
written most favorably of them both."
"I should think so," said Mrs. Bertram, stiffly, who though sternness
itself to her grandsons was most indignant if any one dared to say a
word against them to her; "they would not be true Bertrams if they were
not favorites with all."
She opened the letters and read--
"DEAR AUNT JUDY:
"It's our hour for home letters. We
like it here awfully. Mrs. Hawthorn is a brick,
she lets me come into the drawing-room with
her whenever I am tired, but I've only been
in once yet because I like to watch the boys
play best. I can bowl at cricket and bat too,
and I give a boy called 'Gnat' twopence a
game to do my runs for me. I'm collecting
birds' eggs. There's a boy here who has got
250 of them. I mean to find a sea gull's nest,
and then he'll swap twenty of his with me for
one gull's, because he has never got one yet.
There is a boy called 'Simple Simon,' he
thinks I am a wonder because I let him run
pins into my cork leg and never cry out. He
does not know it's a sham leg and I shan't tell
him. We should like another hamper very
soon, please. Cook's gingerbread was A1.
Give my love to granny, and tell her I take my
tonic when I go to bed every night. Give my
love to nurse. Tell old Principle Mr. Hawthorn
would like to know such a clever man
and see his cave. Send me Rob's letter
directly it comes, please. We do drill in the
gymnasium.
"Your loving nephew
"FITZ ROY BERTRAM."
DEAR AUNT JUDY:
"This is an awfully jolly school. I'd
like you to be one of the boys. We are going
to have a paper chase next Thursday, and I bet
I'll lick some of the chaps at running. Roy
and I sleep in the next beds to each other. I
look after him when he will let me, he is top
of his class and Tom Hunter says he is a plucky
chap. Hunter is captain of the eleven. We
go to bathe every morning down by the sea,
and Hunter says his father is going to give
him a boat of his own in the summer. There
is a jolly tuck shop in the town. We can go
to it every Saturday. There is a boy here
called 'Fishy,' he wants to be my chum but I
like one called 'Cheshire Cat' better, but I
have no chum but Roy. Old Hawthorn only
canes for lies. A boy got caned last night,
and blubbered like a baby before he went in.
I send my love to granny, and all of you. Roy
expects Rob's letter every day.
"Your loving nephew
"DUDLEY.
"P.S. Hunter says our cake has made his
mouth water for the next."
XVII
ROY'S BIG OPPORTUNITY
"Roy, Mrs. Hawthorn wants you. She has got some letters for you."
Dudley came up excitedly to Roy, directly after dinner was over one
Saturday afternoon.
"And I say," he continued; "bring them out and let us go down to the
beach to read them together. The tide will be out till the evening."
Roy hastened off, and wondered at Mrs. Hawthorn's grave look.
"Your aunt has sent me some letters to give you, Roy. She has only just
received them herself. They are about your friend in India."
"From Rob?" said Roy, with sparkling eyes. "Oh, I thought he never would
write. How jolly! And I see his writing, that's my letter."
He held out his hand eagerly but Mrs. Hawthorn laid her hand on his
shoulder gently.
"Yes, that was a letter he wrote to you before the fighting. Your aunt
has heard since--from a nurse who nursed him."
Something in her tone frightened Roy.
"Has he been wounded? He is well again, isn't he?"
"He is quite well now," she said, in a hushed voice.
For a minute Roy gazed at her, with horror and doubt dawning in his dark
eyes, then snatching the letters out of her hand he rushed out of the
room; and seizing hold of Dudley in the hall he exclaimed almost
frantically:
"Dudley, something awful has happened to Rob, let us get away from the
house and read these letters."
He held them tightly in his hand, and would not let Dudley take them
from his grasp, till they reached the beach.
Then sitting down and leaning against an old weather-beaten rock, Roy,
with trembling fingers, first unfolded Rob's letter to himself.
"MY DEAR MASTER ROY:
"We are going up to the mountains to-morrow
to fight. The men say it will be stiff
work, driving an old chief from his stronghold.
Some of them don't like it, but I am
ready. I am a better writer now, I hope, so
want to tell you what I never have yet. I do
thank you with all my heart for being so kind
to a homeless lad and taking him in and giving
him a happy home. And I thank you
much more for teaching him to read and write
and giving up your playtime to get him on.
But if I was to thank you for a hundred years,
I couldn't thank you enough for telling me
about my Saviour and showing me the way to
heaven. Every word you ever said is sticking
to me. I mind all our talks, and if I may
have had some rough times in trying to serve
God first, I have been as happy as a king.
And I have found that the Lord has kept me
through the worst times, and I love Him with
all my heart. When I get to heaven I shall
be able to thank you proper. I do feel thankful
to you and Master Dudley. And now
good-bye and God bless you.
"Your faithful ROB forever."
Roy read this through.
"He's all right, Dudley. What did she mean? Why did she look so funny?"
Dudley shook his head.
"I don't know, read what Aunt Judy says."
Roy spread out his aunt's letter, and read it in unfaltering tones to
the end.
"MY POOR DEAR LITTLE JONATHAN:
"If granny were not really very unwell
I should have come straight off to soften the
blow to you, but I send the letters which I
have just received, and I have asked Mrs.
Hawthorn to explain them to you. You must
be comforted by knowing that our dear Rob
has proved himself a hero and died a hero's
death. I know you would like to see the
nurse's letter written from the hospital, and I
also send you one from the major of his regiment
who used to know me years ago. I know
you will be a brave boy and bear this trouble
like a man. Tell Dudley to write to me by
the first post to tell me you have got the letters
safely.
"Your loving aunt,
"JULIA BERTRAM."
The letter dropped from Roy's grasp, and he flung himself down on the
beach face foremost.
Dudley sat staring out at the sea without speaking. The blow had fallen
so heavily, and so unexpectedly, that speech was not forthcoming.
At last Roy looked up.
"You read the other letters to me, Dudley," he said, in a choked voice.
And Dudley, with a good deal of hesitation and effort interrupted by
tears, read out as follows:
"DEAR MADAM: