PUTTY'S GODFATHER.
THE Vicarage at Crumleigh was situated at one end of the straggling
village street. It was a modern, red-brick building with bay windows
in front; and had been built on the site of the former Vicarage,
which had been destroyed by fire some years previously. A large
garden, well cultivated, surrounded the house, which stood back some
distance from the street, on the opposite side to the church; and
next to the Vicarage grounds was the field where the members of the
Crumleigh Cricket Club assembled during the summer evenings, after
their day's work was done, to practice the famous old English game.
Mr. Cole had been only two years the Vicar of Crumleigh. Before that
time, his work had lain in a large London parish, where he had
laboured as a curate for more than twenty years; then, broken down
by severe illness, he had accepted the living of Crumleigh, which had
been offered to him most opportunely.
As he entertained Eric Wallis to tea in his comfortable dining-room,
he told him some of his experiences in the great metropolis; and Eric
confided in him that his chief friend at school was the son of a
London clergyman, living in a very poor parish.
"What is his name?" Mr. Cole inquired.
"Lawrence Puttenham; but he's always called Putty. Why, you don't
mean to say you know him!" the boy cried, as he noticed the Vicar's
start of surprise.
"Know him? Why, of course I do! Then you are being educated at W—
College? Lawrence Puttenham is the son of my oldest friend. I wonder
if you mentioned Crumleigh to him that he did not tell you I was
the Vicar here."
"I don't think I did mention Crumleigh to him," Eric said,
reflectively. "I certainly told him all about Uncle Jasper, and the
Moat House, and gave him to understand it was two miles from the town
of T—, but, no, I'm sure I never spoke of the village."
"And not knowing the district, he would have no idea that Crumleigh
was so near to T—."
"How very strange that you should know Putty!" Eric exclaimed.
"Not strange at all seeing that his father and I were at the same
college together at Oxford, and have kept in touch with each other
ever since. I know your friend very well; in fact, he's my godson."
"Oh!" cried Eric, gazing at the Vicar with additional interest.
"Now, I wonder what that exclamation means?" Mr. Cole said, inquiringly.
"It means that I've heard a great deal about you," Eric replied,
frankly. "I've often heard Putty speak of his godfather. Fancy your
being the man!"
"Yes, I'm the man!" and the Vicar gave an involuntary, amused laugh.
"Well, I'm glad," Eric said, with candour. He knew that Lawrence
Puttenham's godfather was paying for his education, and had promised
to start him in life; but he had received that information
in confidence, and so he had never mentioned it even to his mother.
"Won't Putty be astonished next term when tell him I know you!"
he exclaimed.
"And won't he be astonished when he comes to pay me a visit next
week, and finds you located near at hand!"
"Is he coming?" Eric asked, eagerly, his voice full of intense
pleasure, his eyes bright with expectancy. "Have you invited him,
really?"
"Yes, and if all's well he will arrive on Monday evening."
"And it's Thursday to-day. This is grand news! I say, Mr. Cole,
please don't write and tell him anything about me. We'll give him
a surprise."
"So we will," the Vicar agreed. "Are you sure you won't have any more
tea? No? Well, then, suppose we adjourn to the cricket field,
I expect most of the boys have arrived by this time."
"I thought you were married?" Eric remarked, as he strolled
by Mr. Cole's side down the garden path towards the gate; "that is
to say, I supposed you were," he amended, "because you have a nice
big house, and—" He paused, looking slightly confused, but the Vicar
smiled as he replied:
"And you thought me old enough to possess a wife and family? No, I'm
not married," he continued, more seriously, "my sister always lived
with me till her death, nearly three years ago now. She used to be my
right hand, and assisted me both by helping me in my parochial duties
and by her unfailing sympathy. You, who have sisters of your own,
can imagine my feelings when I lost mine, the only one I had, who had
ever been my most faithful friend. She would have been delighted
with this pleasant home if God had spared her to share it with me,
but that was not to be—still, His will be done." He sighed as he
glanced back at the Vicarage, bathed in the mellow sunshine of the
August evening. "There are voices in the cricket field. Let us see
who has come."
More than half a dozen boys had arrived already; and therefore
several pairs of curious eyes rested on Eric as he and the Vicar
appeared upon the scene. Mr. Cole introduced his companion as a new
member of the club, briefly explaining that he was considered rather
a good cricketer. Eric spoke a few words to those who looked
friendliest. Some of the boys stared at him in stolid silence whilst
others whispered together as they stood apart, casting occasional
glances him. The new member began to feel slightly uncomfortable.
"Us doan' want un!" one hulking lad of sixteen—Sam Dart by
name—remarked audibly to a friend, gazing disapprovingly at Eric's
tall, upright figure, clad in a white flannel suit.
"Hush!" whispered his companion; "'e's Sir Jasper Amery's nephew,
an' Sir Jasper subscribes to the club."
Play now commenced, and Eric was placed as wicket-keeper, which post
he filled so well that the boys began to view him with greater
approval. Several of the lads showed that they had practised the game
to some purpose; and Sam Dart, as he sent the ball flying across the
field, and made run after run, glanced triumphantly at the newcomer,
and demanded what he thought of that. Eric complimented him on his
prowess as a batsman; but was not a little amused when a few minutes
later the redoubtable Sam was caught out. After a while, Eric, at the
Vicar's suggestion, gave a few lessons in bowling; and, on the whole,
made a rather favourable impression on his new acquaintances. Sam
Dart alone stood aloof, and declined to be at all friendly. He was
a plain, red-headed boy, with a snub nose and a wide mouth, and he
wore a "dicky," as he called the mock white shirt front, which had
slipped all awry and dangled from his neck. More than once during the
game the Vicar had been obliged sternly to call him to order for the
language he had used; and though he had mended his speech at once,
no very long time had elapsed before he had offended again.
Afterwards, Eric learnt that Sam Dart was regarded as the roughest
lad in the village; that the Vicar had hesitated whether or not
to permit him to join the cricket club, but had finally deemed
it advisable to allow him to become a member; and that Sam Dart had
improved in every way since the Vicar had taken him in hand.
Eric could not help wondering what he had been like before.
"I shall come again to-morrow evening, Mr. Cole," Eric told the
Vicar, as he shook hands with him at parting. "And mind you don't
write and tell Putty he'll meet me here."
The Vicar promised he would not; and Eric started homewards in high
spirits, his mind full of pleasant thoughts. He had taken a great
fancy to Mr. Cole, and was really delighted at the discovery he had
made anent his connection with his favourite school-friend.
At the entrance to the grounds of the Moat House he encountered Joy,
who had come to meet him, eager to know how he had got on during the
evening. To her he immediately confided the news that Lawrence
Puttenham was expected at the Vicarage on a visit, and Joy, as was
her custom, thoroughly entered into his happiness and rejoiced
with him.
"How nice it will be for you, Eric!" she cried, after he had
explained everything. "I am so glad. Fancy Mr. Cole being Putty's
godfather! I am surprised!"
"Mr. Cole's a splendid fellow," Eric said. "We had such a jolly talk
together at tea; he told me about his work in London, and how he
caught typhoid fever, and nearly died. That was why he came into the
country. The doctors told him if he didn't he'd never pick up.
He says he thinks he's pretty well as strong as he ever was now, and
I asked him if he meant to go back to London, but he said no, that
God had sent him here, and there was plenty of work for him to do
here. Do you know, when he first came to Crumleigh the boys of the
village used to spend their spare time in loitering about the street,
playing pitch and toss, and using bad language? It was a long time
before they would have anything to do with him, always shirked out of
his way when they saw him coming, and so on; but by-and-by they found
out he meant them well, and now they're quite friendly with him."
"And what about the cricket club?" Joy asked, much interested.
"Oh, the Vicar started that, of course! The members are a queer set,"
Eric said, with a hearty laugh; "they talk the broadest dialect; but
I think I shall get on with them—all except a great fellow called Sam
Dart, who scowled at me every time he caught my eye; I'm not sure
about him. He's the roughest of the lot, and the Vicar had several
times to stop his swearing—I imagine he used bad language more from
habit than any other reason. He appeared to look on me as an
interloper."
"We have had visitors during your absence," Joy told her brother,
presently, "Mr. Tillotson and Lulu. They came to invite Celia and me
to spend a week or so with them."
"But you're not going?" Eric cried, reproachfully; "you wouldn't go
while I'm at the Moat House?"
"No, I told mother I didn't want to go—Lulu talked of asking us
some time ago, at least she spoke of asking Celia, and I guessed
Mr. Tillotson would invite me too—so she made an excuse for me,
said you and I generally spent most of the time together in the
holidays. But Celia's going."
"Is she, though?" Eric exclaimed. "That's not very flattering to me,
is it? But I don't mind," he acknowledged, candidly.
"She is to go the week after next," Joy explained "and she's to have
several new frocks. Uncle Jasper said mother was to take her
to T— to-morrow, and get her some pretty clothes. Celia is
delighted."
"I dare say. She's as vain as a peacock!"
"I don't think mother wants her to go and stay with the Tillotsons,
but Uncle Jasper wishes it. Do you know, I fancy Celia must have told
him beforehand that we were going to have the invitation, for he said
at once that if I did not care to go that was no reason why Celia
should be done out of a pleasure, and he had no doubt Lulu would be
satisfied with one visitor."
"Well, I'm glad you are not going, anyway."
"I'm afraid you will not want me when Lawrence Puttenham is at the
Vicarage," and though Joy smiled, there was a very wistful expression
on her countenance, which her brother was quick to notice.
"That's all you know about it!" he cried, catching her by the
shoulder and giving her a playful shake. "Don't pull such a long
face, Joy. But, I say, tell me one thing, what's come between you and
Celia? You used to be such great friends."
"Yes, but she's altered lately," Joy acknowledged with a deep,
regretful sigh. "I can't explain what I mean, but she's different."
"I see she is. I wonder if mother notices it. I believe it's Uncle
Jasper's fault. He makes too much of her."
Joy made no response to this. Lately her eyes had been opened to many
little flaws in her sister's character, to which she had been blind
before; and she endured the rankling knowledge that Celia had allowed
her to be put in a false position. There was no longer the old
confidence between the two, who in their home at A— had been such
close friends, so that they contemplated the coming separation for a
few weeks with feelings of actual relief. Celia looked forward to a
visit which she anticipated would be pleasantly spent in congenial
society, whilst Joy regarded the prospect of her sister's absence
with perfect equanimity.
Sir Jasper asked Eric many questions in reference to the Crumleigh
Cricket Club when they met at supper-time, all of which the boy
answered fully. The old man nodded his approval of what he heard.
He was both interested and amused by Eric's description of the boys,
and remarked that the Vicar deserved praise for the good order
in which he had managed to set the parish, adding that Crumleigh
had been notorious in the past for the ill-behaviour of the youths
of the place.
"I believe there is to be a real match on Saturday," said Eric;
"you ought to watch it, Uncle Jasper."
"I!" cried Sir Jasper, regarding the boy with amazement. "I!" he
repeated.
"Yes, you," Eric nodded; "and mother and the girls might like to see
it, too. You subscribe to the club, Uncle Jasper, so don't you think
you might drive over and see us play—by way of encouragement,
you know?"
"I have not been outside my own grounds for eighteen months,"
announced Sir Jasper. "Besides, a cricket match has no attractions
me," he added, an expression of gloom crossing his withered face.
It was at this point that Joy ventured to turn the conversation by a
remark about Lawrence Puttenham's expected arrival at the Vicarage,
whereupon Eric informed Sir Jasper of his friend's relationship
to Mr. Cole.
"I have heard so much about Putty's godfather," he said, "that as
soon as I discovered he and the Vicar were one, I felt though I'd
known him for ever so long. Won't old Putty be astounded when he
finds I'm here! What jolly times we shall have together! I may ask
Putty to the Moat House sometimes, mayn't I, Uncle Jasper?"
"As often as you please. As Mr. Cole's son he would be welcome,
and he will be doubly so as your friend."
Sir Jasper's tone was so gracious that Eric thanked him very
earnestly, adding: "I know you'll like Putty, he's such a good sort
of fellow. No nonsense about him—nothing put on—and as straight as a
line!"
"I like people to be straight," Sir Jasper replied gravely, and as he
spoke his eyes rested for a moment on Joy, who, meeting his glance,
suddenly grew crimson and hung her head, imagining he was thinking
that she was not straight.
All at the table noticed the little girl's painful confusion with
comprehension and sympathy, except Sir Jasper, who regarded it as an
additional proof of a guilty conscience, and turned his gaze away
from her with a decided frown.
After that, the meal was concluded in comparative silence, and it was
a relief to every one when it came to an end.