IN THE NEW HOME.
THE winter had given place to spring before John Horbrook returned to
Northcliffe.
The death of his son had very much retarded his recovery, and had
thrown him back some weeks. It was some time before he could find
courage to write and tell his wife that the Tom of her prayers had been
found only to be lost again, for there was so little of hope in his
son's death—nothing to cling to in his memory. But the news had to be
told, and when once the letter was written, John felt as though a great
weight had been taken from him, and his health improved from that time.
Poor Mrs. Horbrook felt the blow very keenly, but she knew how
necessary it was for her to avoid adding to her husband's grief by
dwelling too much upon her own. So for his sake, she wrote quite a
cheerfully resigned letter, and no one but God knew how much she
suffered. The letter was full of resignation to God's will and faith in
His mercy, and gave great relief to her husband, who had dreaded the
effect of the bad news upon his wife. And thus they mutually bore each
ether's burdens, and in so doing fulfilled the law of Christ.
At length, when the snowdrops were blooming in the hedges, and the
primroses clustering in all the sheltered nooks, Mrs. Horbrook received
a letter from her husband, telling her he hoped to be home in three
days. The time passed quickly in joyful preparation, and when the day
arrived, Mrs. Horbrook, George, and Janet were at the station in good
time, waiting for the train which was to bring home their long-absent
husband and father. Edwin had taken care that Janet should go this
time, and had remained at home to nurse the baby.
As the train came up to the platform, Janet felt her mother's hand rest
for a moment heavily on her shoulder. Then she hastened forward to
welcome her husband, paler and thinner than he was, but able to walk
quite well without even the help of a crutch or stick.
"Thank God!" was all she could say.
That evening there was much to be told on both sides. Very good news
about George, who had received a prize for a chalk drawing of some ivy
berries and leaves, which had been sent to London to compete at the
annual exhibition of the works of the different branch schools of art.
The prize was a handsome set of drawing instruments.
Four months of steady industry and good conduct on George's part
had placed him high in his master's good opinion. And even his
fellow-labourers were brought to own that there were, after all, many
worse than George Horbrook. So much for perseverance in well-doing.
Dr. Bertram came to see John Horbrook the day after his return. He
examined his foot, and talked about the future.
"The foot will never be quite as strong as it was before," he said;
"and I think it would be better for you to take up your trade as
a shoemaker. Gilbert was telling me yesterday, he can always find
constant employment for a steady hand."
"I am sure it would be a good plan," said John; "but before I can do
that, I must get into a larger cottage, and that's not an easy matter
in Northcliffe, where small houses are so scarce."
"But you haven't seen the new cottages since you came back, Horbrook.
They will be ready by Midsummer. You must try for one of them."
"There will be twenty applicants for those cottages, sir. And I dare
say Mrs. Clay will give the preference to people better to do than we
are, and who have smaller families."
"We must see what can be done," said Dr. Bertram.
George had been for some weeks past working at the new cottages, Mr.
Day being the builder of them. Every day George wished more and more
that his parents could get one of them when finished. They were so
convenient, and had so much room; and behind each was a good piece of
garden ground.
"I think I should have nothing left to wish for if mother had only such
a house as that," thought George, "now that father is likely to get
plenty of work, and that I'm getting on too."
He began to whistle one of his merriest tunes out of the very gladness
of his heart, at the mere thought of what a happy home it would be. It
was his dinner-hour, and he was amusing himself as usual by drawing. He
was no longer obliged to use a piece of rough chalk, as at first, for
some pencils and prepared chalks and a drawing-book had accompanied the
drawing instruments. And this day he was sketching some primroses and
large arum leaves which he had gathered in the copse close by.
He rarely spent more than twenty minutes at his dinner, so that he got
a good bit of time every day for drawing.
The sound of wheels made him look up from his work, and he saw a little
pony carriage, in which were two ladies, stopping in front of the new
buildings. None of the men had yet returned, so George was the only
person on the premises. The ladies were Mrs. and Miss Clay. They had
been away from Northcliffe for some months, and this was their first
visit to the cottages since their return.
Mrs. Clay called to George to mind the pony whilst she and her daughter
went in to look at the buildings.
"What are you doing here all alone?" they asked of George.
"I was drawing, ma'am; it is the dinner-hour, and I always try and find
time to draw a little."
[Illustration: MRS. CLAY VISITS THE NEW COTTAGES.]
"I am very fond of drawing," said Miss Clay; "show me what you are
doing."
George fetched his book, and both Mrs. and Miss Clay praised his
sketches very much.
"What do you wish to be when you grow up?"
"A mason, ma'am. I should like to be able to carve flowers in stone,
like they are doing at the new church. And masons like that earn a
great deal of money."
"And what would you do with so much money?"
"I'd pay the rent of one of these cottages for father and mother,—that
is if you'd let one to them, ma'am."
Mrs. Clay smiled.
"And why do you think I would not do so?"
"Because we are so many in family, ma'am," said George, in a sorrowful
voice. "But I believe it would be the making of mother if she could
only breathe the pure air up here, instead of living in the damp,
crowded place she is obliged to."
"What is your name?" asked Mrs. Clay, who was amused at George's manner.
"George Horbrook, ma'am. And I hope you won't mind my speaking out so
bold, for it's all a dream, you know. I am only a boy now, and it will
be long before I am a master mason." And the boy sighed.
"It is a very proper ambition, George, and does you credit. Was it your
father of whom I heard as having been in the hospital?"
"Yes, ma'am, the very same; he is much better, but Dr. Bertram thinks
his foot will never be quite strong again. And as father is as good at
shoemaking as he is at mason's work, he is thinking of taking to it for
his trade, only he hasn't a place to work in,—our cottage is so small,
and there are so many of us."
"How many, George?" asked Mrs. Clay.
"Ten, counting father and mother," said George; "and I am the only one
of the children who earns anything."
As George spoke, Mr. Day came up, and Mrs. and Miss Clay went with him
over the cottages, leaving George minding the pony. He could not help
fancying that Mrs. Clay was talking about him to Mr. Day, for he saw
them look towards where he was standing and watching, and they always
smiled as they did so.
"Who knows," thought George, "what may happen?"
Mrs. Clay gave him sixpence for minding the pony, wished him good-bye
with a kind smile, but said not one word about the cottage.
"I knew we should be too many for her," said poor George to himself as
he went to his work.
Several weeks passed away, and John Horbrook had found plenty of work.
Moreover a kind neighbour had given him the loan of a sort of outhouse,
in which he was able to work. But this could only be during the summer
months, and it became indispensable that he should find a larger
cottage before the next winter.
The new cottages were in the meantime fast approaching completion, and
the applications for them were very numerous. George knew all this, and
his heart sank within him as he thought of his cherished dream. With
this one exception, everything was prospering with him. He knew that
Mr. Day was satisfied with him, and his readiness to do a good turn for
anybody had overcome the ill-feeling which many of the men had at first
cherished towards him. It really was next to impossible for them to
continue harbouring ill feelings towards so thoroughly good-natured a
boy as George.
Since the affair of the paint, too, Larkins had been George's firm
friend. And although it might be thought that the friendship of such a
boy was not much worth having, still he had great influence with the
other boys, and had become a very different character since the day
when George had given him the paint. He was now a regular attendant,
not only at the night school, but also at the Sunday school, and very
often during the course of a long and useful life, Jem Larkins would
speak of his becoming acquainted with George Horbrook as being the
turning-point in his life.
At length the cottages were finished, and a day was fixed upon
for deciding who were to be the tenants. There were nearly thirty
applications for the twelve cottages, and it was quite clear that many
must be disappointed.
Mrs. Clay found it quite difficult to make a selection, and she
consulted Mr. Day on the subject.
"I want to get tenants whose character and prospects render it likely
that they will be able to pay their rent regularly, and I should
certainly like to avoid overcrowding the cottages. By-the-bye, Mr. Day,
one of your boys was speaking to me about a cottage for his parents.
What sort of people are the Horbrooks?"
"There is not a better lad in Northcliffe than George," replied the
builder, "and there is not a more deserving family than his. But they
are but struggling as yet, although I think the father is in a fair way
to get on. They are a very large family though," he concluded, with a
smile.
"That shall not be an obstacle, if I find a party truly deserving,"
said Mrs. Clay. "I confess I was quite taken with the boy's earnest
way of pleading for his parents. I am sure he is a good son; and good
children are generally found to have good parents."
"All I can say is," replied Mr. Day, "that if I had a cottage to
let, I would as soon take John Horbrook for a tenant as any man in
Northcliffe, not because he is a well-to-do man, for he is very poor,
but because he bears a good name, and has brought up his children well.
His boy George will be a first-rate mason some of these days."
That same evening, George was preparing his lessons for the night
school, and Mrs. Horbrook was busy ironing, when Mrs. Clay's pony
carriage stopped at the door.
"Oh, mother!" cried George, and he said afterwards that he felt his
heart jump up into his mouth, and that he hardly knew how he opened the
door.
Mrs. Clay beckoned him to come and speak to her.
"You remember what we were talking about the last time we met?" she
said.
"I couldn't forget it, ma'am; it was about your cottages."
"And you have still the same wish to get one for your parents?"
"Yes, ma'am!" cried George, with sparkling eyes.
"Would your father like to be my tenant?"
"Here comes father himself, ma'am, and I know what he'll say if you
only just ask him."
"I am come to offer you one of my new cottages, Horbrook," said Mrs.
Clay, as John came forward with a bow. "You bear an excellent character
in Northcliffe, and so does your son George; and I shall have much
pleasure in taking you for a tenant."
John Horbrook made a still lower bow, to give him time to think what he
should say. It so took him by surprise, it seemed all too good to be
true, there must be some mistake, and he must tell the lady the whole
truth.
"I cannot thank you enough for your kind offer, ma'am," he said at
last; "but I've heard say you object to large families, and there are
ten of us, ma'am. And we are not very well-to-do in the world, although
if God gives me health and strength, I hope to better myself before
long."
"I know all, Horbrook," said Mrs. Clay, "and I know also that you are a
thoroughly honest man, and merit all that your neighbours say of you. I
repeat the offer I just made to you of one of the new cottages, and I
hope God may grant many years of happiness in it. You have brought up
your son George in the right way too; his master speaks most highly of
him."
John Horbrook's face beamed with honest pride. "He has always been
a good lad, and he was his mother's principal comfort whilst I was
away. It has always been his wish that we should have one of your new
cottages, ma'am."
"It was he who first spoke to me about it," said Mrs. Clay. "And now
you may look upon the matter as settled, and you can take your wife
and choose which cottage you would prefer. You shall have the first
choice," saying which Mrs. Clay drove away, leaving John and his son in
a state of the most perfect happiness.
In less than a fortnight, the Horbrooks were comfortably settled in
their new home, where there was ample room for John to carry on his
trade of shoemaker, and he soon had as much work as he could do.
He was never once behindhand with his rent. And the rent-book,
regularly paid up, was one of the ornaments of the little round table
in the window of their sitting-room. Both he and his wife lived to see
George grow up and become a master mason. And so skilful did he become,
that some of the most beautiful stone carvings in a church recently
built at Northcliffe were executed by him. The other dream of his
boyhood has also been realized, and for some time past the Horbrooks
have lived rent free, their rent being paid for them by their good son.
Jem Larkins became a steady workman, and never ceased to feel grateful
to his friend George, who had been, under Providence, the means of
turning him from his evil ways.
May we not learn from this little history of George Horbrook that God
is nigh unto all that call upon Him; and that in all our trials, if we
ask Him for strength to bear them like Christians, they will in the end
prove to have been helps to us in our homeward course?