A LETTER TO TOM
IT was a long drive, and both children slept soundly on the way.
At last they reached the Rectory. Mrs. Garland came out to meet them.
"Oh, you pickles!" she said, "Did you realise how anxious you were
making us? If the telegram had not come, we should all be out now,
scouring the country!"
"Did Chris come home?" asked Harebell.
"No. Did you not have him with you? Andrews has been round here
inquiring for you; but thanks to the wire, I was able to tell him you
were safe."
"Oh!" cried Harebell in real distress, "Chris is lost, what shall I do!"
Nobody seemed to care much about Chris. The farmer was given many
thanks, and some refreshment; the little girls were given some supper
and packed off to bed. Peter did not greet them very pleasantly.
"Girls never can play the game!" he said. "Sneaking off and getting on
horseback! It wasn't fair a bit!"
"Slaves would get on anything to get away," said Harebell sharply.
"They don't stop to think; you could have got on the donkey. But oh,
dear! Nothing matters but Chris, where can he be!"
She tossed restlessly about in bed, and had a wakeful night. At six
o'clock she slipped out of bed, dressed herself, and set off to see
Andy.
He was very angry when he heard about the lost pony.
"I thought for sure you would put him up for the night somewhere! You
don't deserve to be given a smart little pony like that, to go off and
leave him loose on a high-road. Shame on you, Miss Harebell!"
Harebell began to cry. She returned to the Rectory disconsolately. Miss
Forster scolded her for leaving the house without permission.
"You are a great deal too independent!" she said to her. "Whilst you
are here you must ask permission to do things, just as you do your
aunt."
"But," Harebell said, "that's just what I don't do! Aunt Diana doesn't
trouble about me, and I don't trouble about her. She tells me not to do
some things, that's all. I keep away from her all I can."
"I thought you were going to love her."
"Oh, I have tried, Miss Forster, I really have! I've said it over to
myself hundreds of times in bed, but my inside won't do it."
Harebell was very miserable all that day. Andy and the Rector's groom
started off in search of the lost pony, and his little mistress tried
to do her lessons, but the day seemed as if it would never end. But at
six o'clock Peter came running in from the garden.
"Chris is found! Andy is at the gate, and wants Harebell—"
Harebell flew out. The next moment her arms were round her pet, and her
head resting on his silky mane. Chris bent his head round and nosed her
face gently.
"Oh, Chris darling! Where have you been?"
"A farmer met him, and stabled him with his horses for the night. He
could not make out where he hailed from. But we heard on it and went
straight off. I'll exercise Chris till your aunt comes back, Miss
Harebell. I dursn't trust him out with you after this!"
"I don't care! He's safe! He's found!"
Harebell was ecstatic in her joy. She could hardly tear herself away
from her pet, till Andy reminded her, he would be wanting his feed; and
then she reluctantly let him go, and watched him down the road with
adoring eyes.
"Oh!" she said, throwing herself impulsively into the arms of Mrs.
Garland, who came out to see what the children were doing, "I have joy
again! Isn't it wonderful how different things seem when you're happy?"
"So they do, childie!"
Mrs. Garland stroked her head.
Harebell quivered; then looked up at her with big eyes. "I wish I
had you for my mother! I want some one like you dreadfully at Gable
Lodge—Goody is kind, but she's never stroked my head like you, only
brushed it. Mothers are different to anybody else, aren't they?"
"I do believe they are," said Mrs. Garland, smiling. "You must be an
adopted daughter of mine for the time; but don't give us many more days
like yesterday. They are too tiring!"
"I won't! I won't! Peter will have to do the running away himself the
next time. I'll tell him so!"
Then a settled gravity came over her face. She took hold of Mrs.
Garland's hands, and squeezed them tightly.
"I want to write Tom Triggs a letter. You will let me, won't you? He
is ill, and Aunt Diana said I wasn't to speak to him, but she did let
Mr. Garland take me to him, and I saw a lovely picture of the Door,
yesterday, and I want to tell him about it. I'm simply thirsting to
write to him!"
"Oh, Harebell!"
Mrs. Garland's eyes laughed; then she stooped and kissed her.
"Yes, you may write now, if you like. There's a little quiet corner in
the drawing-room. Bring your letter there. I am writing too; and Peter
and Nan will be having their romp in the schoolroom."
It was a great treat to be invited into the drawing-room. Harebell was
delighted. For nearly three-quarters of an hour she was busy with her
letter. First she wrote it in pencil, then she copied it out in ink.
Mrs. Garland did not ask to see it; she gave her a stamp and told her
how to address the envelope.
Then Harebell laid it open in her lap.
"I'd like you to see it. I'm afraid it's badly spelt, but I was so
awfully earnest, I couldn't stop to think. You see he must, he must get
through that Door somehow. And I want him to get through at once."
This was Harebell's letter:
"MY DEAR TOM,—I hope you are better. I wonder all day how you are.
I saw a lovely picksher yesterday it was the Door—I wood like you to
have been there. The sheep were going in fast. It was dark outside and
in the distance was a wulf. It was light and comfertabel inside. The
Lord was holding out His Arms.
"Have you got in yet Tom? I wish Someone would push you, but if sheep
run in, I'm sure you can if you try. The clergyman said tell him it's
one step only—but he must bend his head. He said you wood never get in
if you don't bend your head, he said it was proude not to bend. Do bend
and get in dear Tom and rite and tell me you are inside.
"I am in grate truble over you becorse I saw a Bible verse about the
wicked who can't inherite the Kingdom of God, and a drunkarde was in
them, and you'll never be a drunkarde any more if you get through the
Kingdom's Door. I'll begin and find your wife as soon as I have time,
but please dear Tom get through the Door first.
"And rite to me when You are through. I'm asking God every night to
give you a push, and I hope you're nearly through.
"Your loving friend,
"HAREBELL."
"This is it: 'I am the door. If any man enter in, he shall be saved.'"
Mrs. Garland sat very grave and still, reading the letter. Then she
handed it back to Harebell.
"Seal the envelope, dear, and it shall go by the post to-night."
Then she put her arm round Harebell.
"Are you through that Door yourself, darling?"
Harebell nodded.
"Yes; God seems to tell me I'm through. But, Mrs. Garland, can people
ever run out of the Kingdom again and be lost? I want to know when I'm
naughty. Can I be naughty in the Kingdom, or have I to run outside the
Door and be it?"
"Lambs are sometimes naughty in the sheepfold," said Mr. Garland
slowly. "If Jesus is your Shepherd, Harebell dear, we have His Word
that He will keep you. But if you do run away from Him of your own
accord, turn back at once when you remember what you're doing, and He
will forgive you and receive you again."
Harebell nodded. Then she flew off to post her letter.
And the next moment, Mrs. Garland heard her adding her shrieks to the
romp in the schoolroom.
Two days after this, Harebell received rather a dirty-looking letter by
the post. She opened it with great importance, and found it was from
Tom. Only a few lines, but she came to Mrs. Garland with tears in her
eyes over it.
"DEAR MISSY,—Tom Triggs begs to say if drunkards cant inherite, they
cant, so outside Tom stays and his leg is herting him shocking, and
this place be no place for him with its slops of grool, and such like,
and he be like to die here, if he cant get out soon. Yours respeck.
"TOM TRIGGS."
"I've told him all wrong, haven't I?" sobbed Harebell. "Oh, I wish I
could go and see him. I'm sure Aunt Diana would let me if you were to
take me."
"I think you must wait till your aunt comes back. I have heard from
her this morning. She is returning home in about a week's time. Don't
fret about Tom, dear. It will do him good to lie there and think, and
he won't be able to get at the beer. Now I want you to think about your
aunt. She has asked me to explain things to you."
"I'm afraid I don't care about thinking of her," said Harebell, a
little crossly. "I like Tom much better—"
"Oh no, you don't! You are interested in Tom, and you want him to give
up drinking, but your aunt has fed and clothed you and given you a
happy home. You belong to her. Your mother was her sister; and she has
had a sad life, and has found it very difficult to have a little wild
niece upsetting her house and her quiet ways!"
Harebell's bright eyes were fixed upon Mrs. Garland's face.
"Have I upset her? Talk to me about her."
"That is just what I want to do. Only we must be quiet and undisturbed.
There is still half an hour before lessons begin. Shall we go into
the garden, as it is such a bright morning? Come with me to the
summer-house."
Harebell danced out into the bright spring sunshine. Tom was forgotten
for the time.
The summer-house was at the end of the lawn under an old medlar-tree.
Mrs. Garland sat down on the low bench inside it and drew Harebell to
her side.
"Your aunt wants me to explain things to you before she comes back. Did
you ever hear of your Uncle Herbert?"
Harebell's cheeks got crimson. For a moment she hesitated; then said
frankly:
"Yes, Andy told me about him; only he said I was not to tell, or he
would get into trouble."
"I shall not repeat anything. How much did he tell you, I wonder?"
"He told me Uncle Herbert wasn't dead, but was abroad, and that he had
gone away one day when he and Aunt Diana were very angry with each
other. I felt very sorry, and begged God to find him and send him back.
Has Aunt Diana heard where he is and gone to him?"
Harebell's face was alive with excitement and interest now.
"Yes, dear. She wants you to know about it. You are a little girl
and cannot understand about grown-up people. But we very often are
no different to naughty children, only we are bigger; it has been a
great sorrow to her, and I am sure it has been a sorrow to him. He has
returned to England very ill, and when he reached London, the doctor
told him he must have an operation or he would die. Then he wrote to
your aunt, and asked her to come to him; and she went off at once, as
you know. The operation has been successful, and your aunt is coming
home with him next week. She has had a sad life for many years, and now
I hope she will have a happy one."
"Then I expect she's melted at last?"
"How do you mean?"
"Oh, she has been a snow queen, you know! I've always felt it. I'm
very glad, Mrs. Garland. It will be so nice to have an uncle. Perhaps
he will be like Mr. Graham, or is he like Aunt Diana? Does Andy know?
He'll be so pleased. He says a house without a master is as bad as a
garden without a gardener! It is simply lovely! You know when Andy told
me about it, I prayed hard to God about him, and asked Him to bring him
back. Then I forgot all about it. That's the worst of me, I never keep
on—but there's always fresh things happening. I'm telling God about Tom
now, and that's very special—and I can't think of everybody, every day."
"I think you ought to thank God for answering your prayers about your
uncle. We so often forget to say 'Thank you' for what He sends us."
Harebell looked very grave.
"I expect Aunt Diana won't want me, now she will have Uncle Herbert.
She never did want me, you know. You said so!"
Mrs. Garland was about to speak, but she was suddenly called to the
house by the Rector, and the little talk was over.
Harebell again found it difficult to give her attention to her lessons.
"It's so exciting having a new uncle!" she said to Miss Forster. "I
keep wondering all the time about him!"
That afternoon Miss Forster took them out for a walk, and Mrs. Garland
asked them to take some soup to a bed-ridden old woman.
To Harebell's great delight, the woman proved to be the one living
in the cottage by the old oak-tree. She eagerly asked if she might
take the soup in, and Miss Forster agreed, sending Nan in with her,
whilst she and Peter waited outside. The young woman opened the door
and smiled at Harebell, as she recognised her at once. She Was very
grateful for the soup.
Then a sudden impulse took possession of Harebell. She asked Nan to
take the soup upstairs to the old woman.
"I want to talk to Miss Crake," she said importantly.
Nan meekly stumped up the wooden stairs to the old woman's bedroom.
Fanny Crake looked a little surprised when Harebell sidled up
mysteriously to her.
"I do want to talk to you! I want you to be Tom Triggs' wife, will you?
He wants one badly, and he'll give up his beer, and come and live in
this cottage with you, if you say 'yes.' He's so ill—poor Tom! He broke
his leg—and he's in hospital. He told me he mended your gate, so I hope
you'll marry him. I'm very fond of Tom, but Aunt Diana won't let me
talk to him any more, so it will be difficult, but if you go and see
him in hospital, you can settle it up with him. Will you?"
Fanny began to laugh.
"What a funny little lady you are! We don't do things in that sort of
way, and Tom is not a good match for any respectable girl! He's much
too fond of his glass."
"But he hasn't anybody else to be fond of—poor Tom! I do feel so sorry
for him! Everybody says he's so wicked, but I don't believe he is. Of
course, I haven't seen many really wicked people, so I don't know what
they're like. There was a black man in India who killed his little baby
girl. Now Tom hasn't killed anybody. He saved a little boy and got hurt
himself. And I'm asking God to take him inside the Door, and if you
would only say you would marry him, he would cheer up and be happy and
good. I've promised him to find him a wife somewhere. And you've got
such a nice cottage, that you seem just the one he wants."
"No," said Fanny, smiling and shaking her head; "if a man wants to
marry, 'tis his business to get a cottage, and a living, and then the
girl may consider the matter, but 'tis not for her to give her husband,
her mother's cottage, and make a home for him! 'Tis all the wrong way
round—that is!"
Harebell looked very disappointed.
"I did hope you would say 'yes.' But if he gets work and a cottage and
never drinks any beer, you couldn't simply say 'no' to him. You must be
his wife! And I shall help him to get a cottage if he can. We thought
of this one, because he was going to have it ever so long ago, but the
woman was very unkind to him, so he couldn't marry; and then he said
the devil got hold of him. But now God is going to get hold of him. I
think He will."
She paused for breath. Nan came downstairs; Miss Forster called to
them from outside; and Harebell reluctantly had to go away. Seeing her
downcast face, Fanny good-naturedly said:
"Never mind, little miss! If Tom Triggs knocks off the drink and gets
in good work, he'll find a wife if he wants one. He's a good workman,
Tom is, he's done our gate fine! 'Tis a thousand pities he's let
himself down so! You keep on at him to make himself respectful again!
He has a good home, and a good mother and sister, and ought to be fair
ashamed of himself to live the life he's doing!"
Harebell joined Miss Forster and said to her emphatically:
"I've had a great big disappointment. And it seems to me that I'm not a
bit of good at all—at least, not for getting wives for people!"
Miss Forster laughingly tried to win her confidence; but Harebell shook
her head, and refused to say any more. The next day she asked if she
might go and see Miss Triggs. Mrs. Garland hesitated at first; then
gave permission. Peter and Nan grumbled.
"You're no good at all," said Peter. "We thought you'd be splendid for
games—you don't care for cricket and hockey. You're always full of your
own plans, and visiting stupid people in the village. You think of
rotten things to do, and like going off and doing them alone."
"And dressmakers and drunkards are so low," said Nan, with turned up
nose. "You like them better than us."
Harebell looked thoughtfully at her accusers.
"I suppose," she said slowly, "it's because I always like interesting
things to happen. Your games don't interest me. It's nothing but
hitting balls, and nothing happens if you do win the game; you only
begin all over again. Now a lot could happen when I see Tom and his
sister—exciting things—and I want to make them come. And if I go to see
people, they tell me all kinds of things I want to know, and you don't.
You only laugh at me."
"Oh, you're just a little grown-up!" said Nan impatiently. "You might
just as well put on long dresses, and turn up your hair, and go about
the village as mother does. That's what you like doing!"
"It's all because you think so much of yourself," said Peter. "You're
too cocky for us! You like to pretend you're clever, and are too old
for games!"
"I love games! And you're very rude! But you and Nan always play
together and don't want me, and when I join you, you laugh at me for
being so stupid. I don't understand England, and I don't like it half
as much as India, and I shall be glad when I go back to Aunt Diana's!"
Harebell flung herself out of the room, feeling hot and indignant. And
yet in a measure, she knew what Peter and Nan had said of her was true.
She did not enjoy playing with them, her head at this juncture was full
of Tom and of his affairs, and she could think of nothing else.