POOR FATHER!
"WHAT do you think of Miss Maggs, Mr. Blamey?" asked Robin, some hours
later, as he leaned against the cobbler's window-sill. It was between
eight and nine o'clock, and the atmosphere in Sun Court was less close
than it had been all day; indeed, Jasper had remarked a few minutes
previously that he had caught a whiff of sea breeze.
"She appears a very straightforward sort of person," replied the old
man; "a true friend, I'll be bound to say."
"Yes," nodded the little boy. He proceeded to recount what had taken
place between Miss Maggs and Dick Farrant, and then went on: "I don't
believe Dick's done any work for nearly a week. I heard his mother
talking about it this morning."
"What did she say?" inquired Jasper, his tone betokening interest.
"That she didn't know where he got his money." Robin glanced around to
make certain that no one was near to overhear him, and continued: "Of
course, I know Dick's a bad boy, Mr. Blamey—mother's often said that
the less I have to do with him the better—but somehow I can't help
liking him; he's really kindhearted, and he's not a bully like Sam
Brown."
"He has his good qualities, I have no doubt, Robin. By the way, has
your stepfather returned yet?"
"No; he's working long days now. He'll be home about nine o'clock, I
expect. Mother's beginning a letter to my grandfather; she asked me to
leave her by herself, so I thought I'd come and have a word with you.
Oh, Mr. Blamey, I don't know how I feel about going to Newlyn! I've
begged mother to let me stay with her, but she seems quite determined
to send me to my grandfather. Do you think I really ought to go? I
remember your saying once that my post of duty was here in Sun Court."
"Circumstances alter cases, Robin. When I said that, you were talking
wildly about running away from home. If you go to your grandfather now,
it will be a different matter altogether. Your first duty is to obey
your mother. She knows what's best."
"Things are very hard!" sighed Robin. "It is so dreadful that my money
should have been stolen. I don't suppose mother and I will ever have a
holiday together now." He blinked away a tear as he spoke.
"We never know what's in store for us, my boy," Jasper observed, his
dark, bright eyes tender with sympathy. "We must just take the days
as they come, and make the best of them. Maybe there's a happier time
coming for you and your mother, too. Your stepfather has certainly been
much steadier of late. That shows he could give up drink altogether if
he liked, and I am hopeful that he will."
"Are you?" said Robin, in surprise. "I know mother's often tried to get
him to take the pledge, and so have you, haven't you, Mr. Blamey?"
"Yes, but I never speak to him about it now because I found I was doing
more harm than good. I don't forget to pray for him though, Robin, nor
must you. When I was talking to your friend Miss Maggs this afternoon,
she said that there was a deal of power in prayer, and she's right.
Why, it's the greatest power in the world! It's the link between earth
and Heaven—between God and His children. If you can't do anything else
to help people, you can always pray for them."
The cobbler had been gathering together his tools as he talked, and,
having tidied his bench to his satisfaction, he went to a cupboard and
took out a loaf of bread and a pat of butter. Seeing he was preparing
for supper, Robin was turning away, when he called him back.
"I wonder if you'd fetch a couple of bloaters for me?" said the old
man. "I feel I could relish one to-night."
"Oh, yes! I'll go now," answered Robin, "and I'll be back in no time."
"Oh, there's no great hurry!" smiled Jasper. "Here's the money—two for
three halfpence, I expect they'll be." He handed Robin a sixpenny-bit
as he spoke.
The little boy went off on his errand, and five minutes later found him
making his way along the pavement of the narrow street which adjoined
Sun Court. Being a back street, in a low-class district, the shops on
either side had nothing very attractive in their windows; so Robin was
somewhat surprised at finding quite a crowd before a corner shop where
only newspapers were sold. Curiosity impelled him to linger to try and
ascertain what was going on, but he could not get sufficiently close
to the window to see anything; so he presently pursued his way, and,
having made his purchase of the bloaters at a grocer's, was retracing
his footsteps when someone laid a hand on his arm, and he looked up
into the face of Dick Farrant, which wore its most good-humoured
expression.
"Hulloa, youngster, where are you off?" asked Dick.
"I've been on an errand for Mr. Blamey to buy some bloaters for his
supper," explained Robin, noticing that the other's eyes were resting
inquiringly on his parcel. "What are all those folks waiting outside
the newspaper shop for?" he questioned.
"Oh, they're waiting to see if they've made their fortunes!" laughed
Dick, with a knowing wink.
"I don't understand what you mean," said Robin, much puzzled.
"I daresay not; you're such a little innocent! Well, in plain language,
they're waiting to find out the result of a horse-race. Presently a
telegram will be stuck up in the window, giving the name of the winner
of the race. It's no great interest to me, for I don't happen to have
any money on it."
"Oh!" cried Robin comprehendingly. He looked at his companion with an
inscrutable expression in his big grey eyes.
"I'll put you up to a thing or two when you're a bit older, young 'un,"
said Dick, in a patronising manner.
"No, no!" cried Robin. "Oh, Dick, what a pity you should bet! You know
it's wrong!"
"Don't know any such thing! Look here!" Dick thrust his hand into his
trousers pocket, and drew out a shilling. "That's for you," he said.
But, contrary to his expectation, Robin's face showed no sign of
pleasure, nor did the little boy attempt to possess himself of the coin.
"I don't want it, thank you!" he exclaimed quickly. "No, I really can't
take it," he went on, "though it's very kind of you to wish to give it
to me, but—no, thank you!" His tone was decided.
"Oh, nonsense!" Dick's manner grew suddenly most unaccountably
embarrassed. "Look here, do have it!" he said, almost imploringly.
"I-I've been sorry for you about—about the loss of your money, you
know. I—I've thought of it a good deal, and I—I wish I could make it up
to you. Do take this shilling, Robin! I daresay I shall be able to give
you another in a few days. Come, between friends, you know—" He broke
off, an expression of marked anxiety on his face.
But Robin was not to be persuaded to accept the gift, though it really
distressed him to refuse it.
"Don't be vexed with me," he said, observing that Dick looked both
annoyed and disappointed. "I feel it's very, very kind of you!"
"It isn't!" the other interrupted brusquely.
"Oh, yes, indeed it is!" persisted Robin. "But I can't take it. Mother
wouldn't like it if I did. I—I know—that is, I am afraid that it isn't
good money."
"Good money?" echoed Dick. "What do you mean by that? It isn't base
coin. It's right enough. Do you imagine I'd trick you?"
"Oh, no, I'm sure you wouldn't!" Robin cried distressfully. "But I
expect you won that shilling by betting, and—and mother says money
gained in evil ways is bad money, and it never brings a blessing with
it, and Mr. Blamey says the same."
"Ah, Mr. Blamey!" broke in Dick, with a sneer. "You needn't repeat to
me anything he may have said. I can't bear him."
"I am sure he never did you any harm!" exclaimed Robin reproachfully.
"He's been a wonderfully good friend to mother and me."
"I daresay; but I'd rather he didn't try to be a friend to me. I like
to go my own way. The other day he took upon himself to round on me
because I'd spoken roughly—unbecomingly, he called it—to my mother, and
I swore at him for his pains. It was on Sunday, and he was seated at
his bench reading his Bible, or pretending to. Well, he never answered
back; but I saw his lips moving, and I believe he was praying. Now,
what right has he to pray for me, I should like to know?"
"I expect he was telling Jesus about you—asking Him to forgive you for
having been a bad fellow," replied Robin simply.
They had reached the entrance to Sun Court by this time, and paused
facing each other. The elder's countenance had lost the good-tempered
expression it had worn at the commencement of their conversation, and
was overshadowed by a heavy frown; whilst the younger's was flushed and
troubled.
"Has old Jasper Blamey converted you, then?" Dick asked, with a laugh
which he meant should sound insulting. Then, without waiting for a
reply, he continued: "Oh, I know how he goes on with his talk about
Jesus! The Friend of sinners, as he calls Him! As though Jesus cared
for sinners! Good people are more in His line, I should think."
"Oh, but He does care for sinners!" Robin said impressively. "I used to
think, like you, that He didn't; but I know now that He does. He cares
for everyone. It says in the Bible, 'God commendeth His love toward
us, in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us.' Isn't it
wonderful to think that He should have died for us all?"
Dick made no response. He stood looking steadily at Robin, whom he had
never heard speak like this before. Evidently the little fellow was
deeply in earnest. It was at this point that a motor-carriage rushed
with a whirr around the corner of the street, and both boys turned
involuntarily to watch it as it came towards them. At the same instant
a little girl ran out of the entrance of Sun Court, and started for the
opposite pavement; then, suddenly becoming aware of the approach of the
motor-carriage, she stopped, apparently paralysed with fear.
"She will be killed!" shrieked Robin, beyond measure horrified, his
fascinated gaze upon the little girl.
Even as he spoke, a man sprang towards the child and flung her out of
harm's way into the gutter, where she set up a frightened wail. What
followed Robin could never afterwards tell. The motor-carriage pulled
up, and its occupants got out and went to the assistance of someone who
lay, white and unconscious, in the middle of the street.
"Poor fellow!" murmured a pitying voice. "I'm afraid if he's not
actually killed, he's seriously injured. It was a brave thing to do."
Impelled by curiosity, the boys joined the crowd which was already
gathering around the prostrate form of the man who had saved the child.
Then Robin caught sight of a marble-white countenance, and he gripped
Dick by the arm.
"It's father! Oh, poor father!" he cried.