THE HOME-COMING
True to her word Bessie paid her visit to Mrs. Coates the next day. She
had not been long in the house before the hollow cough was heard.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Bessie; though really listening for it, the
sound had quite startled her. "What a dreadful cough!"
"That it is. It's our lodger, poor fellow! I'm afraid he's not long for
this world."
"What is his name?"
"Richard Wood."
"H'm." If Mrs. Coates had been at all a sharp sort of woman she might
have detected something peculiar in that expression.
"I'm afraid he's very poor," continued Mrs. Coates. "He's paid me all
right, but I don't think he's much left. I took him up some hot supper
last night, and my! didn't he eat it up ravenously!"
"Has he any friends?"
"Doesn't seem to have any."
"The best thing he could do would be to get into a hospital."
"Yes, I suppose so. I really wish he would, for that cough quite wears
on me."
"I know some one who subscribes to the Warley Hospital: I could get him
an in-letter for there, I feel sure, if he would care to go."
"Do you really!"--quite eagerly. "I should be glad if he could be got
there! I shouldn't like to tell him to go, it would seem cruel, but I'm
sure I can't stand that cough much longer."
"Well, go up at once and ask him," suggested Bessie.
"I will, there can be no harm in that," and away Mrs. Coates went.
There was quite a different look on her face when she returned.
"No, he won't go," shaking her head, "couldn't move him!--says that when
his money's all gone, he'll go into the workhouse; I needn't be
frightened about being kept out of my money--as if I was thinking of
that! But there, that's all I get for all my trouble! You might give
your life for some folks, and they wouldn't give you even a nod in
return, not they!" Mrs. Coates was evidently feeling very annoyed.
"Yes," exclaimed Bessie, "he's just one of that sort"--and then suddenly
added, "at least, I should think so, from what you say."
Bessie could think of no other suggestion to make, but went away
determined to think out some other plan for getting Mrs. Coates' lodger
out of Hadley.
The next time Mrs. Coates had an interview with her lodger, he suddenly
asked: "Who was that woman who wanted to get me packed off to Warley?"
"Mrs. Jones," was the curt answer.
"And who's Mrs. Jones?"
"A very nice woman," turning round quite fiercely towards him, "a very
nice young woman indeed, and I can't see why you shouldn't be willing to
let her do you a kindness--that I can't!"
"Perhaps not," he replied, "but you haven't told me yet who she is.
There are heaps of Mrs. Jones."
"She used to live with Mrs. Waring; she's the daughter of Mr. Marchant,
the chemist. I wish you'd let me ask Mrs. Waring to come and see you,"
exclaimed Mrs. Coates, not giving "Richard Wood" time to reply, the very
mention of Phebe's name bringing, what she thought, a bright idea into
her head; "she would be sure to know what was the best thing for you to
do! I always take all my troubles to her."
"Look here, woman!" exclaimed the lodger angrily, "don't bring that
friend of yours here, for I will not see her. Please remember that."
"But she is a good woman."
"Is she!"--with a sneer.
"Yes, she is--a very good woman!"
"Then why did her husband have to leave her?--Yes, I know her just as
well as you do, perhaps better."
"You know nothing bad about her, that I'm certain," replied Mrs. Coates,
raising her voice to quite an angry pitch; "you should ask, 'What sort
of a sneak was her husband to leave such a woman?'--that's what you
should ask."
"So that is how she talks about her husband, is it?"
"No, it isn't. I've never heard her mention him, so there. But I won't
have you say one word against my Mrs. Waring. So I tell you!" And Mrs.
Coates left the room for fear her tears should be seen.
"The horrid man!" she said to herself. "I suppose God sees something in
him to love, at least that's what Mrs. Waring would say, so I suppose I
must search for it till I find it. But for that he should go out of this
house this very day, that he should! Wouldn't Jim be riled if he knew
what he said about Mrs. Waring! I'd better not tell him."
Late one evening Phebe paid a visit to Jim Coates to explain to him her
garden scheme and to secure his help for it.
What a change there was in that home from what it was on her first
visit! The whole family this evening was in a state of great excitement
over the arrival of a new couch, and each member had been taking turns
to lie down on it. Jim had also got a special and personal bit of news
which considerably added to the excitement; he had just seen Mr. Black,
who had offered him a good position as foreman on some fresh works quite
near, and when Mrs. Waring added her news there was a state of matters
in that little home difficult to describe.
Jim clapped his hands and shouted: "If this isn't like being in Heaven
afore the time! It beats everything I ever knowed!"
"Don't make quite so much noise, then," put in Mrs. Coates. "You see,"
turning to Mrs. Waring, "we've got a lodger in bed upstairs, and he's
that bad, poor fellow, I don't know what will become of him."
"Bless you! he can't hear us," exclaimed Jim; "and if he did, it 'ud do
him good. It does you good to laugh, and it does you good to hear a
laugh, too."
"Ah, but Mr. Wood is a good deal too bad for that."
"Poor fellow!" said their visitor, "if I can help him in any way please
let me know."
"Look here, Mrs. Waring," put in Jim. "I wish you'd do us the honour of
having a bit of supper with us. I'm of the same mind as your Mrs.
Colston, when you're extra happy it seems like as if you ought to eat
together. On the strength of my new job I've bought a tin of coffee and
some new-laid eggs."
Mrs. Waring felt it would be very ungracious if she did not accept the
invitation, though just then time was very precious.
"Don't you think I'm a lucky man, Mrs. Waring?" exclaimed Jim, as he
stood with his watch in his hand, counting the minutes while the eggs
were boiling, "and it's all come through you."
"No, through God," was her correction.
"Well, God used you, anyhow. And what a change there is in Mr. Black,
too----"
"Who is that!" suddenly exclaimed Phebe, springing to her feet. Mrs.
Coates had just gone upstairs, leaving two doors open behind her. It was
the lodger's cough she had heard.
"It's only Mr. Wood coughing," explained Jim, and Phebe took her seat
again feeling strangely tired.
Again the cough was heard. It had a strange little moan at the end of
it, almost like a suppressed cry.
"Oh!" exclaimed Phebe, this time feeling powerless to rise, but
stretching out her hands to Jim Coates, "_that is my husband coughing_!"
Jim almost dashed his watch on the table and rushed towards her, taking
hold of both of her hands.
"It's our lodger, Mrs. Waring, don't be skeered. Come up and see him, if
you like, and then your mind will be easy."
"Yes, yes," whispered Phebe faintly, "in a minute I will."
She would have fallen on the stairs if Jim had not put his strong arm
round her, but when she reached the sick man's room she was herself
again, only that her breath seemed very short.
Just for an instant she stood at the foot of the bed, and then going to
the side she took up one of his thin hands, and said gently: "Ralph,
dear, why did you not come home?"
"I didn't want any fine folks about me."
"But I am not fine, I am your wife. You will come home now, won't
you?"--the voice was full of pleading. "It is your home, I've kept the
business on--it's yours, too."
"Of course it is." There was not one loving tone in the voice, but he
was stroking her hand gently. He was glad she had come, glad of her
gentle welcome, but he did not want to show it.
Jim Coates and his wife were dumb with surprise. When the meaning of it
all dawned upon them, with the instinct of true gentle-people they crept
quietly downstairs.
Phebe bent and kissed Ralph on the brow. "I'll leave you now, dear," she
said, "just for a little while. I must go home and arrange for your
coming. I will not be long, and if we roll you up well in blankets and
drive in a closed cab the journey will not harm you." His only answer
was a nod, but that was better than a refusal.
She walked home like one in a dream. Stephen was there waiting to ask
her some question about the garden scheme. He was talking to Nanna.
Almost abruptly Phebe broke in upon them. Her face was very white, she
was trembling all over, and could scarcely speak. Nanna rushed to her,
thinking she would fall before she reached a chair. It was Stephen who
gently placed a seat near, and held his arm round her as Nanna stooped
to loosen her boots.
"Poor dearie, you're quite done up!" said Nanna, but she knew all the
time the shadow had fallen.
"I've found Ralph," she whispered. "I want you to light a fire
upstairs--I am going to fetch him home in a cab."
Stephen withdrew his arm and caught hold of the chair-back to steady
himself; the room seemed to swim before him.
"Yes," was all Nanna answered.
"Did you know?" gasped Phebe.
"Yes."
"And you?" turning to Stephen.
He could only shake his head.
The sight of Stephen's struggle gave her fresh strength.
"Why did you not tell me, Nanna?"
"It was too difficult--I did not know." The words came with great
effort.
Phebe stroked her hair with a comforting touch; they had exchanged
places.
It was Stephen who fetched the cab, and when it drove up again and the
limp figure with the incessant cough stepped out, he was standing on the
pavement, looking a sad, solitary figure.
[Illustration: "HE WAS STANDING ON THE PAVEMENT LOOKING A SAD, SOLITARY
FIGURE."]
It was very late. The shop had long been closed. Jack was safely in bed.
Only Nanna and Janie knew of Ralph's arrival.