Confession.
"IS Mr. Grimwood at home?"
Hannah, the maid servant who opened the door of The Laurels in answer
to the constable's important knock, eyed both him and his youthful
charge with some curiosity, as she replied:
"Yes, but he is engaged just now; however, if you want to see him
particular. I'll tell him."
The policeman stated that his business "was" particular, and, at
Hannah's bidding, he and Teddy stepped inside the hall.
The maid, recognizing in the lad one of the young gardeners of a few
days previously, mentally wondered what was wrong. But her curiosity
was not destined to be satisfied just then.
Within a short space of time P.C. Jones and his prisoner were ushered
into the dining-room, where sat Mr. Grimwood and—to Teddy's relief—Mr.
Charlton. Somehow he felt that in Mr. Charlton he would find a friend.
A few words from the constable explained the situation; and Mr.
Grimwood, having listened intently to all he had to tell, then turned
to Teddy, and asked him in a very severe tone of voice what he had to
say for himself.
"Please, sir," said Teddy, facing his judge bravely, although something
of his healthy colour had faded, "it isn't true—not a word of it; I
didn't do it!"
"I don't believe you," was the sharp retort; "boys nowadays don't know
how to speak the truth."
Teddy next looked with an appealing glance at Mr. Charlton.
"You—you believe me," he said, "don't you?"
"Yes, Teddy," was the reply, "I do."
"Thank you, sir," was all the boy said, but a rush of tears suddenly
dimmed his eyes.
These, however, he checked manfully. Mr. Grimwood, not best pleased at
the interruption, then proceeded.
"Look here, Bannister," said he, "three times lately the fire brigade
has been called up owing to false alarms, and I have vowed I will make
an example of the culprit when found out. But owing to your youth, and
out of consideration for your family, I will temper justice with mercy.
If you will confess straight out your share in the matter, I will look
over it this once."
"I can't confess, sir," said Teddy in distress, "because I didn't do
it—really and truly."
"But the constable says you were seen near the spot just about the time
it happened."
Teddy was silent, this being only too true.
"May 'I' ask one or two questions, Mr. Grimwood?" here spoke Mr.
Charlton courteously.
"Yes, if you wish," was the somewhat curt response.
"Teddy," the boy's heart warmed at the kindliness of Mr. Charlton's
tone, "were you alone all the while this afternoon?"
Teddy flushed. "No, sir," he answered, "I wasn't."
"Who was with you?"
"Please," said Teddy, "I would rather not say. I am going to 'make' him
speak up for himself."
"Then you are shielding somebody?"
"Y—yes," faltered Teddy.
"Who is it?" Mr. Grimwood rapped out the question. "I'll have none of
this nonsense, please."
Teddy set his lips firmly—he could be very obstinate if he chose.
"You don't mean to tell me?" The tone was awesome enough to frighten a
stouter heart than Teddy's. But, all the same, he stood his ground.
Mr. Grimwood began to wonder for the first time whether the policeman
had not made a mistake.
[Illustration: DICK, WHITE AND TREMBLING, ENTERED THE ROOM.]
Just as he was about to speak again, the dining-room door, which had
been left ajar, was suddenly thrown wide open, and Dick, white to the
lips and trembling from head to foot, entered the room. He had been
playing the part of listener.
Mr. Grimwood looked at him sharply.
"What are you here for?" he said. "I didn't send for you."
"No, but I just 'had' to come," said Dick in a quivering voice,
"because—because—it was not Teddy who did it. I—I—"
"Go on, please!" Mr. Grimwood's tone cut like a knife.
"I did it, Uncle Nat; Teddy will tell you how it happened."
Teddy, feeling immensely relieved, and seeing also that Dick was too
upset to tell the tale himself, spoke out freely, begging at the same
time that Dick might be forgiven.
For a moment or so Mr. Grimwood was silent. He was feeling bitterly
disappointed in his sister's son. Then he turned to the policeman.
"You may go, Jones," said he; "you did your duty, and I commend you.
The matter can now rest in my hands."
And P.C. Jones, with a respectful bow and an apologetic glance in
Teddy's direction, left the room.
"I beg your pardon, Bannister," said Mr. Grimwood (it was a great deal
for him to say); "it appears that Mr. Charlton knows you better than I
do. As for you, Dick—" (here he turned to his young nephew), "I shall
have more to say to you later on."
The punishment which was meted out to Dick was pretty severe, but that
which hurt him most of all was the cut which he received from the
Bannister boys and girls the next time they met.
The day which followed this slight, Mr. Charlton chanced to come across
the lad, lying full length on the grassy sward near the head of the
cliffs, crying bitterly. It was in a lonely part, and Dick had not
reckoned upon any one seeing his tears. His face was hidden in his
hands, and his whole frame was shaking with sobs.
"Why, Dick," said Mr. Charlton (the boy had not heard his footsteps),
"whatever is the matter, old chap?"
They were the first kind words that Dick had heard for days. For a
moment or so the boy looked angry and sullen, not feeling best pleased
at being thus caught. However, he could not resist the kindliness in
the questioner's eyes.
"Everything's . . . the . . . matter," said the boy brokenly. "The
Bannisters won't have anything to do with me now, and I—I haven't got a
f—friend in the world."
"There I think you're wrong." Mr. Charlton here sat down beside the lad
and laid his hand upon his shoulder. "If you will have me, I shall be
only too pleased to be your friend."
"Do you really mean it?" cried Dick, a sudden light coming into his
tear-stained eyes. "It's—it's most awfully good of you! I'm afraid you
won't want me for a friend long though," he added, the cloud coming
into his face again; "I'm bad all through."
"Not quite all through, I think," was the reply. "You want to be
different, don't you?"
"Yes, oh, you don't know how I long to be good; I hate being what I am!"
"That's the first step," said Mr. Charlton encouragingly. "Now, what
you must do is to ask your Captain to come and take control of the
ship. It's plain to see you can't manage it yourself."
"What do you mean?" asked Dick, looking puzzled.
Then Mr. Charlton explained his meaning, the words that he said sinking
down deeply into the young undisciplined heart.
"With Christ for your Captain, my boy," he finished, "you can never
come to shipwreck; only you must take Him on board at once—delays are
dangerous, you know."
"I'll ask Him to-night," replied Dick, in a voice which trembled with
feeling, "and—and I'll never forget what you've said."
Shortly after this, the conversation drifted into other channels, and
later on—Dick feeling that he had found a friend indeed—the two parted.