"MY PUPILS"
That summer was a very, very lovely one. It scarcely rained, and when it
did, it was generally in the night. If it is "an ill wind that brings
nobody any good," on the other hand I suppose that few winds are so good
that they bring nobody any harm, so possibly in some parts of the
country people _may_ have suffered that year for want of water; but this
was not the case at Evercombe, where there were plenty of most
well-behaved springs, which--or some of which at least--had never been
known to run dry.
So the little brooks danced along their way as happily as ever, enjoying
the sunshine, and with no murmurs from the little fishes to sadden their
pretty songs, no fears for themselves of their full bright life running
short. Every living thing seemed bubbling over with content; the flowers
and blossoms were as fresh in July as in May; never had the birds been
quite so busy and merry; and as for the butterflies, there was no
counting their number or variety. Some new kinds _must_ have come this
year from butterflyland, Ferdy said to Christine one afternoon when he
was lying out on his new couch on the lawn. Christine laughed, and so
did Miss Lilly, and asked him to tell them where that country was, and
Ferdy looked very wise and said it lay on the edge of fairyland, the
fairies looked after it, that much he _did_ know, and some day perhaps
he would find out more.
And then he went on to tell them, in his half-joking, half-serious way,
that he really thought the swallows were considering whether it was
worth while to go away over the sea again next autumn. He had heard them
having _such_ a talk early that morning, and as far as he could make
out, that was what they were saying.
"The spring came so early this year, and the summer looks as if it were
going to last for always," he said. "I don't wonder at the swallows. Do
you, Miss Lilly?"
Eva smiled, but shook her head.
"It is very nice of them to be considering about it," she replied,
"for, no doubt, they will be sorry to leave you and the oriel window,
Ferdy--sorrier than ever before." For she understood the little boy so
well, that she knew it did him no harm to join him in his harmless
fancies sometimes. "But they are wiser than we are in certain ways. They
can feel the first faint whiff of Jack Frost's breath long before we
have begun to think of cold at all."
"Like the Fairy Fine-Ear," said Ferdy, "who could hear the grass
growing. I always like to think of that--there's something so--so _neat_
about it."
"What a funny word to use about a fairy thing," said Christine,
laughing. "Ah, well, any way we needn't think about Jack Frost or cold
or winter just yet, and a day like this makes one feel, as Ferdy says,
as if the summer must last for always."
It had been a great, an unspeakable comfort to the family at the Watch
House, all thinking so constantly about their dear little man, to have
this lovely weather for him. It had made it possible for him to enjoy
much that would otherwise have been out of the question--above all, the
being several hours of the day out of doors.
The big doctor had come again, not long after the day I told you of--the
day of Miss Lilly's grandfather's visit, and of the presentation of the
"old Jerry stick," as it came to be called. And he gave leave at last
for Ferdy to be carried out of doors and to spend some hours on the
lawn, provided they waited till a special kind of couch, or "garden-bed"
in Ferdy's words, was ordered and sent from London. It was a very clever
sort of couch, as it could be lifted off its stand, so to say, and used
for carrying the little fellow up and down stairs without the slightest
jar or jerk.
And Ferdy did not feel as if he were deserting his dear oriel window,
for the nicest spot in the whole garden for the daily camping-out was on
the lawn just below the swallows' home. And watching their quaint
doings, their flyings out and in, their "conversations," and now and
then even a tiny-bird quarrel among the youngsters, came to be a
favourite amusement at the times, which must come in every such life as
Ferdy had to lead, when he felt too tired to read or to be read to, too
tired for his dearly loved "cutting-out" even, clever as he was getting
to be at it.
Miss Lilly's hopes were fulfilled. Ferdy was having real lessons in
carving two or three times a week. Dr. Lilly had arranged all about it,
with the young man he had thought of, before he went away. His going
away had turned into a much longer absence than was at first expected,
but out of this came one very pleasant thing--Miss Lilly was living
altogether at the Watch House.
This was a most happy plan for Ferdy, and for everybody, especially so
far as the carving lessons were concerned, for Mr. Brock could only come
in the evening, and but for Miss Lilly's presence there might have been
difficulties in the way, Mrs. Ross was so terribly afraid of overtiring
Ferdy, and nervous about his straining himself or doing too much in any
way.
But she knew she could trust Eva, who really seemed to have, as her
grandfather said, "an old head on young shoulders." She was the first to
see if Ferdy was getting too eager over his work, or tiring himself, and
then too, though she had not actual artist talent herself, she had a
very quick and correct eye. She understood Mr. Brock's directions
sometimes even better than Ferdy himself, and was often able to help him
out of a difficulty or give him a hint to set him in a right way when he
was working by himself in the day-time.
And another person was much the gainer by Miss Lilly's stay at the Watch
House. I feel sure, dear children, you will quickly guess who that was.
Jesse Piggot?
Yes, poor Jesse.
But for Eva I doubt if he would have been allowed to share Ferdy's
lessons. Mrs. Ross had grown nervous since that sad birthday morning,
though at the time she seemed so calm and strong.
But she was now too anxious, and I am afraid Flowers was a little to
blame for her mistress's fears that Jesse would in some way or other
harm little Ferdy. Flowers did not like Jesse. Indeed, a good many
people besides the Watch House servants had no love for the boy. It was
partly Jesse's own fault, partly a case of giving a dog a bad name.
"He came of such a rough lot," they would say. "Those Draymoor folk were
all a bad lot, and Piggot's set about the worst. Jesse was idle, and
'mischeevious,' and impudent," and besides all these opinions of him,
which Flowers repeated to Ferdy's mother, there was always "some illness
about at Draymoor--at least there was bound to be--scarlet fever or
measles or something, in a place where there were such swarms of rough,
ill-kept children."
This was really not the case, for Draymoor was an extraordinarily
healthy place, and when Mrs. Ross spoke to Dr. Lilly before he left of
her fears of infection being brought to her boy, he was able to set her
mind more at rest on this point, and Eva took care to remind her from
time to time of what "grandfather had said." And Jesse's luck seemed to
have turned. To begin with, he was now regularly employed at the farm,
and a week or two after Mrs. Ross had consented to his sharing Ferdy's
lessons, the Draymoor difficulty came to an end, for Farmer Meare gave
him a little room over the cow-houses, and told him he might spend his
Sundays there too if he liked, so that there was really no need for him
to go backwards and forwards to the neighbourhood Ferdy's mother dreaded
so, at all.
He was not overworked, for he was a very strong boy, but he had plenty
to do, and there might have been some excuse for him if he had said he
felt too tired "of an evening" to do anything but loiter about or go to
bed before the sun did.
No fear of anything of the kind, however. Jesse was a good example of
the saying that it is the busiest people who have the most time. The
busier he was in the day, the more eager he seemed that nothing should
keep him from making his appearance at the door of the oriel room a few
minutes before the time at which the wood-carver from Whittingham was
due.
And he was sure to be heartily welcomed by Ferdy and his governess, and
Christine too, if she happened to be there.
The first time or two Miss Lilly had found it necessary to give him a
little hint.
"Have you washed your hands, Jesse?" she said, and as Jesse looked at
his long brown fingers rather doubtfully, she opened the door again and
called to good-natured Thomas, who had just brought the boy upstairs.
"Jesse must wash his hands, please," she said.
And from that evening the brown hands were always quite clean. Then
another hint or two got his curly black hair cropped and his boots
brushed, so that it was quite a tidy-looking Jesse who sat at the table
on Mr. Brock's other side, listening with all his ears and watching with
all his eyes.
And he learnt with wonderful quickness. The teacher had been interested
in him from the first. Old Jerry's head had shown him almost at once
that the boy had unusual talent, and the next few weeks made him more
and more sure of this.
"We must not let it drop," he said to Eva one day when he was able to
speak to her out of hearing of the boys. "When Dr. Lilly returns I must
tell him about Jesse. He must not go on working as a farm-labourer much
longer. His touch is improving every day, and he will soon be able to
group things better than I can do myself--much better than I could do at
his age," with a little sigh, for poor Mr. Brock was not at all
conceited. He was clever enough to know pretty exactly what he could do
and what he could not, and he felt that he could never rise very much
higher in his art.
Miss Lilly listened with great pleasure to his opinion of Jesse, but, of
course, she said any change in the boy's life was a serious matter, and
must wait to be talked over by her grandfather and Mr. Ross when Dr.
Lilly came home.
And in her own heart she did not feel sure that they would wish him to
give up his regular work, not at any rate for a good while to come, and
till it was more certain that he could make his livelihood in a
different way; for what Dr. Lilly cared most about was to give pleasant
and interesting employment for leisure hours--to bring some idea of
beauty and gracefulness into dull home lives.
She said something of this kind one evening after Jesse had gone, and
she saw by the bright look in Ferdy's face that he understood what she
meant, better even than Mr. Brock himself did perhaps.
"It sounds all very nice, miss," said the wood-carver, "but I doubt if
there's any good to be done in that sort of way unless when there's real
talent such as I feel sure this Piggot lad has. The run of those rough
folk have no idea beyond loafing about in their idle hours; and, after
all, if they're pretty sober--and some few are that--what can one
expect? The taste isn't in them, and if it's not there, you can't put
it."
Eva hesitated.
"Are you so sure of that?" she said doubtfully.
"Well, miss, it looks like it. With Jesse now, there was no
encouragement--it came out because it was there."
"Yes, but I think Jesse is an exception. He _has_ unusual talent, and in
a case like his I daresay it will come to his choosing a line of his own
altogether. But even for those who have no talent, and to begin with,
even no taste, I do think _something_ might be done," she said.
"Thomas has taken to making whistles," said Ferdy, "ever since he saw
Jesse's. He can't carve a bit--not prettily, I mean--but he cuts out
letters rather nicely, and he's been giving everybody presents of
whistles with their--'relitions' on."
"_Initials_ you mean, dear," said Miss Lilly.
"_Initials_," repeated Ferdy, getting rather pink.
"Ah," said the wood-carver with a smile, "you can't quite take Thomas as
an example, my boy. Why, compared to many of the even well-to-do people
about, his whole life is 'a thing of beauty.' Look at the rooms he lives
in, the gardens, the ladies he sees. And as for those Draymoor folk,
they'd rather have the bar of an inn than the finest picture gallery in
the world. No, miss, with all respect, you 'can't make a silk purse out
of a sow's ear.'"
Ferdy laughed. He had never heard the quaint old saying before, and as
it was time for Mr. Brock to go, no more was said.
But both Miss Lilly and Ferdy had their own thoughts and kept their own
opinion.
Ferdy's own work made him very happy, and of its kind it was very nice.
His little mind was full of sweet and pretty fancies, but these, of
course, for such a mere child as he was, and especially as he could not
sit up to do his carving, it was very difficult to put into actual
shape.
But his happy cheeriness kept him from being discouraged.
"I shall never be as clever as Jesse," he told Miss Lilly and Christine,
"but I don't mind. P'r'aps when we're big I'll _think_ of things for
Jesse to _do_."
"You can't tell yet what you may be able to do when you're big," said
his governess. "I think it is wonderful to see all you can do already.
Those animals for the poor little children at the hospital are
beautiful, Ferdy."
"They're _toys_," said Ferdy with some contempt, "only," more
cheerfully, "I'm very glad if they'll please the poor little children.
But oh, Miss Lilly dear, if I could make you see the beautiful things I
_think_! The prettiest of all always comes something like the oriel
window--like an oriel window in fairyland."
"Was there a window like that in the house the little fairy had to
build, do you think, Miss Lilly?" asked Christine.
"No, of course not," said Ferdy, before his governess had time to
answer. "My thinked window isn't built, it's cut out; it's all beautiful
flowers and leaves, like the real window in summer, only far, far
prettier. And there are birds' nests, with them _almost_ flying, they
are so light and feathery looking, and--" he stopped, and lay back with
his eyes closed and a dreamy smile on his face.
"When you are older," said Miss Lilly, "I hope you will travel a good
deal and go to see some of the wonderful carvings there are in Italy and
Germany, and indeed in England too. Not only wood-carving, but
sculpture. Fancy, _stone_ worked so as to look as if a breath of air
would make it quiver!"
She spoke perhaps a little thoughtlessly, and in an instant she felt
that she had done so, for Ferdy opened his big blue eyes and gazed up at
her with a strange wistful expression.
"Miss Lilly dear," he said, "you mustn't count on my doing anything like
that--travelling, I mean, or things well people can do. P'r'aps, you
know, I'll be all my life like this."
Eva turned her head aside. She did not want either Ferdy or his sister
to see that his quaint words made her feel very sad--that, indeed, they
brought the tears very near her eyes.
And in a minute or two Ferdy seemed to have forgotten his own sad
warning. He was laughing with Christine at the comical expression of a
pigling which he had mounted on the back of a rather eccentric-looking
donkey--it was his first donkey, and he had found it more difficult than
old Jerrys.
That evening a pleasant and very unexpected thing happened.
It was a lesson evening, but a few minutes before the time a message was
brought to the oriel room by good-natured Thomas. It was from Jesse to
ask if he might come up, though he knew it was too early, as he wanted
"pertickler" to see Master Ferdy before "the gentleman came."
"He may, mayn't he, Miss Lilly?" asked the little invalid.
"Oh yes," Eva replied. She was careful to please Mrs. Ross by not
letting Jesse ever forget to be quite polite and respectful, and never,
as he would have called it himself, "to take freedoms," and there was a
sort of natural quickness about the boy which made it easy to do this.
And somehow, even the few hours he spent at the Watch House--perhaps too
the refining effect of his pretty work--had already made a great change
in him. The old half-defiant, half-good-natured, reckless look had left
him; he was quite as bright and merry as before, but no one now, not
even Flowers, could accuse him of being "impudent."
He came in now with an eager light in his eyes, his brown face ruddier
than usual; but he did not forget to stop an instant at the door while
he made his usual bow or scrape--or a mixture of both.
"Good evening, Jesse," said Ferdy, holding out his hand. "Why, what have
you got there?" as he caught sight of some odd-shaped packages of
various sizes, done up in newspaper, which Jesse was carrying.
"Please, Master Ferdy, I've brought 'em to show you. It's my pupils as
has done them. They're nothing much, I know, but still I'm a bit proud
of 'em, and I wanted to show them to you and Miss here, first of all."
He hastened, with fingers almost trembling with eagerness, to unpack the
queer-looking parcels, Miss Lilly, at a glance from Ferdy, coming
forward to help him. Ferdy's own cheeks flushed as the first contents
came to light.
"Oh," he exclaimed, "I _wish_ I could sit up!"
But in another moment he had forgotten his little cry of complaint, so
interested was he in the curious sight before him.
All sorts and shapes of wooden objects came to view. There were pigs'
heads, evidently modelled on old Jerry, dogs, and horses, and cows, some
not to be mistaken, some which would, it must be confessed, have been
the better for a label with "This is a--," whatever animal it was meant
to be, written upon it; there were round plates with scalloped edges,
some with a very simple wreath of leaves; boxes with neat little stiff
designs on the lids--in fact, the funniest mixture of things you ever
saw, but all with _attempt_ in them--attempt, and good-will, and
patience, and here and there a touch of something more--of real talent,
however untrained--in them all, or almost all, signs of love of the
work.
There came a moment or two of absolute silence--silence more pleasing to
Jesse than any words, for as his quick eyes glanced from one to another
of his three friends, he saw that it was the silence of delight and
surprise.
At last said Ferdy, his words tumbling over each other in his eagerness,
"Miss Lilly, Chrissie, isn't it wonderful? Do you hear what Jesse says?
It's his _pupils_. He's been teaching what he's been learning. Tell us
all about it, Jesse."
"Do, do," added Eva. "Yes, Ferdy, you're quite right--it's wonderful.
Who are they all, Jesse?"
[Illustration: "WE WORKS IN A SHED THERE, IN A FIELD BY THE SMITHY ...
AND WE'RE AS JOLLY AS SAND-BOYS."]
"There's about a dozen, altogether," began Jesse, with, for the first
time, a sort of shyness. "It began with one or two at the farm; seein'
me so busy of an evening, they thought it'd be better fun nor throwin'
sticks into the water for the dogs to catch, or smokin' them rubbishin'
sham cigars. We sat in the barn, and then one day I met Barney--Barney
Coles, cousin's son to Uncle Bill at Draymoor. Barney's not a bad chap,
and he's been ill and can't go in the mines. And we talked a bit, and he
axed how it was I never come their way, and I said how busy I was, and
he might see for hisself. So he comed, and he's got on one of the
fastest--with plain work like," and Jesse picked out one or two neat
little boxes and plates, with stiff unfanciful patterns, carefully done.
"He's lots of time just now, you see, and he's got a good eye for
measuring. And then he brought one or two more, but I was afraid master
wouldn't be best pleased at such a lot of us, so now I go two evenings a
week to Bollins, close by your place, miss," with a nod, not in the
least intended to be disrespectful, in Miss Lilly's direction, "and we
works in a shed there, in a field by the smithy. We got leave first,
that's all right, and we fixed up a plank table and some benches, and
we're as jolly as sand-boys. I've often had it in my mind to tell you,
but I thought I'd better wait a bit till I had somethin' to show."
"You will tell Mr. Brock about it?" said Miss Lilly. "He will be
_nearly_ as pleased as we are--he can't be _quite_. I don't think I have
ever been more pleased in my life, Jesse."
It was "wonderful," as Ferdy had said. Jesse Piggot, the ringleader in
every sort of mischief, the "cheeky young rascal" out of one scrape into
another, to have started a class for "art work" among the rough colliery
boys of Draymoor!
"Oh, I do wish grandfather were back again," Eva went on. "_He_ will
help you, Jesse, in every way he possibly can, I know."
"We should be proud if the old doctor'd look at what we're doing," said
Jesse. "And there's several things I'd like to ask about. Some of the
boys don't take to the carving, but they're that quick at drawin' things
to do, or fancy-like patterns that couldn't be done in wood, but'd make
beautiful soft things--couldn't they be taught better? And Barney says
he's heard tell of brass work. I've never seen it, but he says it's done
at some of the Institutes, Whittingham way, and he'd like that better
than wood work."
He stopped, half out of breath with the rush of ideas that were taking
shape in his mind.
"I know what you mean," said Miss Lilly. "I have seen it. I think it is
an ancient art revived again. Yes, I don't see why it would not be
possible to get teaching in it. And then there's basket work, that is
another thing that can be quite done at home, and very pretty things can
be made in it. It might suit some of the lads who are not much good at
carving."
"Them moss baskets of Master Ferdy's are right-down pretty," said Jesse.
"And you can twist withies about, beautiful."
His eyes sparkled--his ideas came much quicker than his power of putting
them into words.
"There's no want of pretty things to copy," he said after a little
silence.
"No indeed," said Miss Lilly.
But at that moment the door opened to admit Mr. Brock. A start of
surprise came over the wood-carver as he caught sight of the table
covered with Jesse's exhibition. And then it had all to be explained to
him, in his turn. He was interested and pleased, but scarcely in the
same way as Eva and Ferdy.
"We must look them all over," he said, "and carefully separate any work
that gives signs of taste or talent. It is no use encouraging lads who
have neither."
Jesse's face fell. He had somehow known that Mr. Brock would not feel
quite as his other friends did about his "pupils."
"Yes," said Miss Lilly, "it will no doubt be a good thing to classify
the work to some extent. But I would not discourage _any_, Mr. Brock.
Taste may grow, if not talent; and if there are only one or two boys
with skill enough to do real work, surely the pleasure and interest of
making _something_ in their idle hours must be good for all?"
The wood-carver smiled indulgently. He thought the young lady rather
fanciful, but still he could go along with her to a certain extent.
"Well, yes," he agreed. "At worst it is harmless. When the doctor
returns, Miss Lilly, we must talk it all over with him; I am anxious to
consult him about--" he glanced in Jesse's direction meaningly, without
the boy's noticing it. For Jesse and Ferdy were eagerly picking out for
their teacher's approval some of the bits of carving which their own
instinct had already told them showed promise of better things.