Cissie Vane.
IN Miss Silver's Sunday-school class was a little girl of the name of
Cissie Vane. She was a motherless bairn, who, sad to say, was generally
in somebody's way. In the bygone times, which had so nearly faded
away from Cissie's memory, she had been as happy as the day was long.
She and her father had lived together in the country (her mother had
died when Cissie was a tiny mite), and there Mr. Vane had painted his
pictures, the sale of which just kept the little home going and the
wolf from the door.
But all this was changed. Her father, unfortunately for Cissie, married
again, soon after which he seemed to lose interest in his work. His
health, too, failed him, and on Cissie's ninth birthday—she was at this
time eleven years of age—she was left fatherless.
Her step-mother was a woman of quick, impatient temper, and was by no
means always kind. Their home was now in a poor London street, where
Mrs. Vane eked out her living by taking lodgers, Cissie proving very
helpful in the house.
The little girl's first meeting with Miss Silver happened thus. Cissie,
feeling very lonely one Sunday afternoon, made her way by chance to a
Sunday-school in a street near by. At a word of invitation she took
her place amongst a class of little girls, and the lesson she had
interrupted was then continued.
"Now, children," said the lady at the close, "you may ask me any
questions that you like, only we must talk softly so as not to disturb
the others."
She smiled so sweetly as she spoke, that Cissie's little heart quite
warmed within her, and it was she who, in spite of being a new-comer,
put the first question.
"Please," she said, "what is your name?"
The voice was both gentle and refined, for the little girl had not
caught the accent of the children of the neighbourhood.
The lady, who had expected some question about the Bible story, was a
little surprised, but she answered very kindly all the same.
"My name is Margaret Silver," she said; "and what is yours, may I ask?"
"Mine," was the reply, "is Cissie Vane—I like your name best; I shall
call you my 'Pretty Lady,' and come to your class again, if you'll let
me."
The child meant no impertinence it was easy to see. She had simply
fallen in love with her teacher. It was little wonder, for Margaret
Silver was as sweet as she was beautiful. She in her turn was attracted
to Cissie, the bright little face, framed with curly brown hair, being
very winsome.
Cissie kept her promise with regard to coming again, and the friendship
between teacher and pupil grew very rapidly.
About a couple of months after Cissie's first appearance at the
Sunday-school a very exciting thing happened in her home. The child
awoke one night to find the room—a small attic at the top of the
house—in which she slept half full of smoke. Frightened, she made her
way into the passage, and there she realized an alarming fact—the house
was on fire!
As it chanced a little girl, Meggy Smith by name, of about four years
of age, was sleeping in the room next to Cissie's attic. She had been
left in Mrs. Vane's charge a few weeks previously, and Cissie was
devoted to her.
Forgetful of her own danger, she hastened to Meggy's rescue. Quickly
awakening her, she carried the little one, heavy though she was,
towards the staircase. But here the smoke, which was now almost
suffocating, barred their way of escape. The poor children were indeed
in a sorry plight!
[Illustration: THE POOR CHILDREN WERE INDEED IN A SORRY PLIGHT.]
By this time the household was aroused, and efforts were being made to
reach them. But so rapidly was the fire spreading that the efforts were
in vain.
Poor little Meggy was now crying piteously, Cissie meanwhile doing her
best to pacify her.
"Don't cry, Meggy dear," said she as bravely as she could speak,
although she was feeling terribly frightened herself. "We'll stand at
the landing window, and shout for somebody to come and save us."
A few minutes later the two childish forms were seen there from
below—all the other inmates of the house had reached safety—and Cissie,
having flung the window open, cried loudly for help.
Fortunately it was not long in coming; the alarm had already been
given, and the fire-engine and escape were even then on their way.
In a comparatively little while, although it seemed like an age to
Cissie and Meggy, the escape was placed at the window, and one by one
they were taken in safety to the street below.
A happy little party was seated at breakfast at No. 3, Belford Road,
S.W. It consisted of Miss Silver, looking bright and smiling at the
head of the table, Mrs. Mortimer, an elderly relative who lived with
her—Miss Silver had lost her parents some years previously—and Eileen
and Nora.
It was Monday morning. The half-term holiday was nearly over, and the
two girls, who, to use their own words, had had a "perfectly lovely
time," were supposed to be leaving that afternoon for home.
"Girls," said Miss Silver presently, looking up from a letter she was
reading, "are you in a great hurry to go home, or would you like to
stay on with me for another couple of days?"
"Oh," cried Eileen, looking as though such a prospect was too good to
be true, "is there any chance of it, Cousin Margaret?"
"Yes," was the reply, "there is. I took upon myself to write to your
governess—who is an old friend of mine—and also to Mrs. Weston, and
both are willing for you to stay on till Wednesday."
"How simply splendiferous!" exclaimed Eileen in delight; and Nora
echoed her words.
"Now is there anything you would particularly like to do?" said Miss
Silver presently, when the children had expressed their thanks; "we
must make the most of the time, you know."
Eileen and Nora thought awhile, and soon came to the conclusion that
they would like to go to the Zoo.
"So it shall be," said Miss Silver. "Perhaps Mrs. Mortimer would like
to go with us."
But the older lady smiled and shook her head; she preferred a quiet day
at home.
"Some time this afternoon," went on Miss Silver, "I want to go and see
one of my little Sunday-school pupils who is ill. I think we could
manage it on our way home. You two girls can come in with me, if you
like, and have a chat with her too."
"We'd like it very much," replied Eileen. "What is her name, and what
is the matter with her?"
"Her name is Cissie Vane. She is suffering really from severe shock
upon a delicate and ill-fed little frame. And as there was nowhere else
for her to go, she was taken to the hospital. She and another child,
who seems none the worse for her experience, nearly lost their lives in
a fire a few nights ago."
And Miss Silver then told the story as she had heard it from Cissie's
lips.
Both Eileen and Nora were intensely interested, and looked forward to
the day's programme with the keenest delight.
"There is one person I would like to see while we are here," said
Eileen a little later, "and that is Mr. Charlton. He lives in London,
and we know his address."
Miss Silver had already heard much about the editor of "Sunny Hours"
and of his acceptance of Eileen's story and drawings.
"Well, there's no reason why you shouldn't see him," she replied; "that
is, if he has the time to spare. Would you like to send him a few lines
asking him to come to-morrow evening if he is disengaged?"
Eileen was very pleased to do so, and the invitation was duly sent, and
accepted by return of post.
The time spent at the Zoo was perfect from beginning to end, and Miss
Silver, in seeing the children's pleasure, enjoyed it as much as they.
On their way home, as arranged, she and the two girls called at the
hospital, where little Cissie Vane was a patient, and there they found
the child in a great state of distress. The reason was soon given by
Cissie herself, between pitiful sobs which shook her very frame.
On that day her step-mother had been to see her, and had told the
little girl that very shortly she was going to Canada, and that Cissie
would have to find a new home. But where? Ah! That was the question.