DIAMOND JUBILEE IS ADOPTED FOR THE SECOND TIME
Emmeline’s expectation that they would never see Diamond Jubilee again
was not fulfilled. They saw him again only a week later.
During the interval, various things had been happening in Paradise Court.
The police had long been on the look-out for a pretext to make a raid on
Mother Grimes’s premises, and the theft of Emmeline’s watch gave them
just the excuse they wanted, for Bully Ben lived at the informal little
school kept by that lady, of whom he was an old pupil. When the raid
took place, they discovered not only the watch, but so many other stolen
properties that Mother Grimes herself, Bully Ben and several more of the
older pupils presently found themselves being lodged at His Majesty’s
expense for longer or shorter terms. Emmeline’s watch was not directly
responsible for this, for the prisoners had been tried on other charges
of which there were plenty; so that she had all the delight of its being
restored to her without the disagreeable experience of appearing in the
witness-box.
Bad though it was, Mother Grimes’s establishment had been Diamond
Jubilee’s only home, and his probable fate now that it had been broken
up weighed much on Aunt Grace’s mind, for something in the appearance of
the forlorn little street arab as he stood up to bear witness to Micky’s
innocence had touched her kind heart. She said nothing as yet on the
subject to any of his former adopters, but simply arranged for his coming
to make a fortnight’s stay with a respectable old woman in the village,
who was glad to eke out her slender earnings by receiving little town
children in need of a country holiday.
Diamond Jubilee arrived; a much pleasanter Diamond Jubilee than he had
been on his first introduction to the children, for Aunt Grace had
provided for his going through a series of carbolic acid baths, and had
furnished him with a sufficient stock of Micky’s old clothes to allow
of his former wardrobe being burnt. It is much easier for a boy to have
self-respect when his outward appearance is neat, and Diamond Jubilee’s
language and manners improved very decidedly. Of course, there were
occasional outbreaks when the ways of respectability bored him, and less
occasional lapses into the speech of Green Ginger Land, but on the whole
he was so docile and well-behaved that Aunt Grace became more unwilling
than ever to let him go back to the workhouse, far less to the old
Paradise Court life.
He came to play or to go for walks with the Bolton children most
afternoons, and on these occasions Aunt Grace always took care to be
present, much to his delight, for he had developed a chivalrous devotion
to her.
‘She’s a rare clever gal,’ he told Micky.
Perhaps Micky was more gratified by the compliment than Aunt Grace felt
in her turn when Diamond Jubilee confided to her that Micky would have
been ‘a master one’ at Mother Grimes’s trade, if only he had been brought
up to it—he was that quick and sharp!
All this time a certain plan was ripening in Aunt Grace’s mind, and at
last one tea-time she mooted it to the children.
‘How would you like to adopt Diamond Jubilee again?’ she suggested
cheerfully.
‘Scrumptious!’ said Micky, with his mouth full of bread and jam. ‘He’ll
be champion at bowling when I’ve trained him a little more.’
‘And Punch is getting quite fond of him. He came and licked all over his
face yesterday,’ put Kitty.
Emmeline looked doubtful. It was all very well having Diamond Jubilee for
a fortnight’s visit, but adopting him again was another matter.
‘I’m afraid, Micky, it would hardly do to keep him here, even to play
cricket with you,’ said Aunt Grace. ‘You see, he needs to be kept under
strict discipline. No, my idea is for you children to send him to Mr.
Faulkner’s Home. They’d take him for fifteen pounds a year, and it would
be the making of him.’
‘Then shouldn’t we ever see him?’ said Kitty dolefully.
‘What a beastly dull sort of adoption!’ exclaimed Micky.
‘And where are the fifteen pounds to come from?’ said Emmeline, ‘even
with birthday money and Christmas money put together we don’t get nearly
fifteen pounds.’
‘Well,’ said Aunt Grace slowly, ‘you know I promised to get you a donkey
and cart. If you were willing to do without them, I’d give you each five
pounds a year instead, and you could pay for Diamond Jubilee’s keep at
the Home. As to not seeing Diamond Jubilee, and its being a dull sort of
adoption, he could always come and spend the summer holidays with us,
you know, and you would get letters from him in between-whiles and hear
a great deal about him from Mr. Faulkner. But, after all, whether it’s
dull or interesting isn’t the question. The question is whether you are
willing to deny yourselves a pleasure so as to give a poor little boy
who has never had a chance yet the opportunity of growing up into a good,
useful man. I don’t want to press you in any way, and I don’t want you to
settle anything in a hurry, but talk it over quietly among yourselves and
tell me in a day or two what you think of the plan.’
For the rest of the day the children were rather silent and preoccupied.
It was not nearly so much fun adopting Diamond Jubilee in the fashion
Aunt Grace suggested as when his presence in the neighbourhood had
involved the perils and delights of a plot; but they were good children
in the main, and Aunt Grace’s suggestions had a way of sticking.
Emmeline came up to the schoolroom that evening, when the twins were
drinking their supper-milk, and began fidgeting with the blind-tassel.
‘After all,’ she remarked abruptly, ‘I suppose when you’ve once adopted
a person you’re rather bound to go on with it if you can, even if it
doesn’t turn out quite as beautiful and romantic as you thought it would
be.’
‘And dogs are awfully good judges of character,’ remarked Kitty
thoughtfully. ‘Everybody says so.’
‘Well,’ said Micky gloomily, ‘I suppose it doesn’t really much matter
which sort of donkey we get!’
‘Emmeline,’ said Kitty, ‘you’ll wait to tell Aunt Grace when we’re there,
won’t you?’
‘Let’s all go downstairs again and tell her now!’ said Micky, more
cheerfully. Micky would have been reconciled to most things so long as
they gave him a good excuse for going downstairs again after the doom of
bedtime had been pronounced.
* * * * *
‘Well,’ remarked Mr. Faulkner, ‘things certainly run in families.’ He
had come to call one afternoon, and found the whole party out except
Emmeline, who was staying in with a cold. They had been discussing the
re-adoption of Diamond Jubilee.
‘How do you mean?’ asked Emmeline.
‘I was thinking of your Aunt Grace,’ said Mr. Faulkner, between two puffs
of his pipe, ‘and how _she_ first took up practical philanthropy at the
mature age of twelve.’
‘Did she?’ asked Emmeline, rather vaguely. Truth to tell, she did not
feel quite certain what practical philanthropy meant.
‘Yes,’ said Mr. Faulkner. ‘Don’t you remember my speaking at the Meeting
the other evening of that little girl whose pocket-money was the very
first subscription to the Home, and who spent most of her playtime trying
to help the poor little children of the slums? It was very stupid of me,
but it never struck me till your aunt seemed so shy of its being spoken
of that it might be the same Miss Bolton.’
‘But that child’s name was Kathleen,’ said Emmeline, looking very much
puzzled.
‘Yes, I know. It was really that which threw me out, for I didn’t
discover till the other day that Miss Bolton’s second name is Kathleen,
and that she was always called by it until she grew up.’
A light had broken on Emmeline’s face. ‘Why, to be sure!’ she exclaimed,
‘I remember now mother telling me that Kitty was named after her.’
A short silence followed, during which Mr. Faulkner puffed away at his
pipe and dreamed rose-coloured day-dreams which might or might not come
true, and Emmeline strove hard to grasp this startling new idea. ‘I
wonder when she gave up that sort of thing,’ she remarked presently.
‘What sort of thing?’ asked Mr. Faulkner. He had been growing rather
absent just lately.
‘Looking after the poor, I mean, and—and all that.’
‘Why, when she came to look after you instead,’ said Mr. Faulkner,
smiling.
‘Then was it _that_ she used to do when she lived in London?’ asked
Emmeline, on whom all sorts of wonderful new lights were suddenly dawning.
‘To be sure,’ said Mr. Faulkner. ‘What did you think she was doing?’
‘I thought she was going to dances and—dinner-parties,’ stammered
Emmeline.
‘So she did sometimes,’ said Mr. Faulkner, calmly; ‘it was at a
dinner-party that I first met her.’
The walkers came in a moment afterwards, and the twins pounced on Mr.
Faulkner with acclamation. ‘Mr. Faulkner, is it true that Diamond
Jubilee’s school reports will be sent to _us_ just like people’s reports
are sent to their real parents?’ demanded Micky.
‘Yes, you’ll be duly informed twice a year of the number of marks he gets
for arithmetic and what we think of his temper,’ Mr. Faulkner assured him.
Micky bounded into the air. ‘I’m jolly glad we settled on having him
instead of the donkey!’ he announced.
‘I do wish we were going to see him all the year round instead of only
just at the summer holidays,’ remarked Kitty. ‘I’m sure Punch will miss
him dreadfully. He always hates it when people go away.’
‘Well, it’s a great castle in the air of mine that some day things will
work out so that you do see him all the year round,’ said Mr. Faulkner,
glancing at Aunt Grace, who had turned rather rosier than usual.
‘But that would only be if we lived in the same place as the Home and
you,’ said Kitty, ‘and that’s much too jolly ever to come true.’
‘Is it?’ said Mr. Faulkner smiling, and Aunt Grace smiled too, though
what the joke was, the children could not imagine.
‘Aunt Grace,’ whispered Emmeline that evening as she hugged her aunt
good-night with her uninjured arm, ‘I’ve found out to-day that I’m the
silliest goose that ever was, and I’m so awfully glad!’
‘It seems rather an unusual subject for rejoicing!’ observed Aunt Grace.
‘Oh, I’m not rejoicing because I’ve been a goose,’ Emmeline hastened to
explain, ‘but because I’ve just found out who that Kathleen Mr. Faulkner
told us about really was.’
‘That child was a little prig, Emmeline, as I’ve told you before,’ said
Aunt Grace smiling.
‘Well, anyhow she grew up into the delightfulest aunt in the world!’ was
Emmeline’s answer.