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 ARRY 
 
 I FOR OUR REAPING 
 ! 3Y-AND-BY
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 MIRIAM AND TOM 
 
 T. NELSON Ac SONS
 
 DICK AND HARRY 
 AND TOM 
 
 ffor ur IRcaping 
 
 FLORENCE E. BURCH 
 
 Author of " No Royal Road." " A Little Boy and Girl ; or. How Rollo and 
 Tricksy filled their Money-Box," 
 
 THOMAS NELSON AND SONS 
 
 London, Edinburgh, and tV/nu York
 
 I. TOM, ... ... ... ... ... ... 7 
 
 II. WHAT UNCLE MERRY BROUGHT, ... ... ... 14 
 
 in. "GREAT" AND "GOOD," ... ... ... ... 21 
 
 IV. KATIE TRIES TO MAKE AMENDS, ... ... ... 27 
 
 V. RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION, ... ... ... ... 31 
 
 vi. MIRIAM'S KNIGHT-ERBANT, ... ... ... ... 37 
 
 VII. HAYMAKING BEGINS, ... ... ... ... 42 
 
 vin. KATIE'S SCHEME, ... ... ... ... ... 50 
 
 IX. TOM IS IN TOO MUCH OP A HURRY, ... ... ... 55 
 
 X. STRANDED HIGH AND DRY, ... ... ... ... 62 
 
 XI. IN THE COUNTRY, ... ... ... ... ... 67 
 
 XII. ALWAYS AFTER MISCHIEF, ... ... ... ... 72 
 
 XIII. A WHITE LIE, ... ... ... ... ... 78 
 
 XIV. PULLING ONIONS, ... ... ... ... ... 87 
 
 XV. TOM'S GOLD MEDAL, ... ... ... ... 93 
 
 XVI. A SAD LOSS, ... ... ... ... ... 100 
 
 XVII. A LETTER TO BERMONDSEY, ... ... ... ... 107 
 
 xvin. MIRIAM'S WISH, ... ... ... ... ... 110 
 
 xix. KATIE'S FEAR, ... ... ... ... ... 119 
 
 XX. SUSAN GIVES GOOD ADVICE, ... ... ... 123 
 
 xxi. MIRIAM'S EYES ARE OPENED, ... ... ... 127 
 
 XXII. TOM'S GOOD FAIRY, ... ... ... ... 132 
 
 XXIII. AS FIRE MELTS THE DROSS AWAY, ... ... ... 138 
 
 XXIV. THE NEW SCHEME, ... ... ... ... ... 141 
 
 xxv. UNCLE MERRY'S BAND, ... ... ... ... 144 
 
 XXVI. WON OVER, ... ... ... ... ... 149 
 
 XXVII. A MERRY CHRISTMAS, ... ... ... ... 153 
 
 xxvni. "PEACE ON EARTH, GOOD WILL TOWARD MEN," ... 157 
 
 622752
 
 DICK AND HARRY 
 AND TOM. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TOM. 
 
 " Dick and Harry and Tom ! 
 Dick and Harry and Tom ! 
 They teased the dog and worried the cat, 
 And drowned the kittens in their grandfather's hat, 
 Did Dick and Harry and Tom. " 
 
 AS the sounds died away a face appeared above 
 the palings ; and two mischievous black eyes 
 peeped over at Miriam, who was seated on the 
 trunk of a fallen tree with a basket of primroses 
 on her lap. 
 
 The tree was covered with lichen, and the ground 
 at Miriam's feet was one mass of moss and creeping 
 ivy, primroses and wood-anemones, and all those 
 beautiful little plants that hasten out to meet the 
 spring. Close at hand a robin was carolling right
 
 8 TOM. 
 
 merrily, and the plantation was full of the song of 
 the thrushes. But Miriam scarcely heard them. 
 She had been singing whilst she filled her basket ; 
 now she was resting and watching the anemones 
 dancing in the sunlight that gleamed through the 
 branches overhead. 
 
 Miriam was hardly thinking, but she was very 
 much pre-occupied with some pictures that kept 
 flitting in and out of her mind. She had been to 
 a birthday party overnight, and she was living it 
 all over again. Now she saw herself in her cream- 
 coloured dress with the blue bows on it, just as it 
 looked when she took the last peep in the glass 
 before starting. Now she saw Katie Rivers in her 
 white one, and wished she had glossy dark locks 
 like Katie's, instead of stupid dull brown ; for Katie 
 could wear pink ribbons instead of blue. Then she 
 saw all the happy faces on either side of the long 
 tea-table ; and again, the brilliantly-lighted drawing- 
 room, where they had played all sorts of games. 
 So she went on, running over all that they had 
 said and done, until at last in imagination she was 
 crossing to the piano, with burning cheeks, to 
 sing " Dick and Harry and Tom." Now, although 
 Miriam had learned this song on purpose, and 
 practised it carefully, when it came to standing up 
 by the piano, her heart beat so fast and her face 
 grew so hot that she was nearly ready to cry.
 
 TOM. 9 
 
 Miriam remembered just how she felt ; and she 
 was pretty well convinced that it was much nicer 
 to sing out there in the plantation than in the 
 drawing-room with everybody's eyes upon her. So 
 she jumped down from her seat, and sang out clear 
 and loud as she went on gathering her primroses ; 
 and if the birds could only have understood her 
 language, they would all have stopped to listen to 
 the long list of naughty things which these three 
 young heroes did. 
 
 As it was, they only flew away when she pushed 
 in among the branches, and went on with their own 
 songs, as if they thought them far the prettiest. 
 
 But Miriam had not known all this while that 
 there ivas some one listening ; so it was no wonder 
 if she was rather startled when suddenly a boy, 
 who for some time had been peeping at her through 
 a knot-hole, gave a shrill whistle, and jumping 
 up, so as to get both arms on to the fence, hung 
 there looking at her, with a broad grin on his 
 face. 
 
 Miriam started up and dropped her basket ; then, 
 seeing who the intruder was, turned hot all over 
 with vexation. 
 
 " I'll come and help pick up the primroses," called 
 the boy, getting one leg up on the fence. " I say, 
 though, that was pretty ! " 
 
 Miriam was too hot to reply. She stooped down
 
 10 TOM. 
 
 in silence and occupied herself in gathering up the 
 flowers. 
 
 " I say, though," shouted the boy again, " pity 
 you didn't practise before the party instead of after" 
 
 Miriam's cheeks were getting redder and redder, 
 but still she took no notice. 
 
 " Katie said you were ready to cry," pursued her 
 tormentor ; and a picture rose in Miriam's mind of 
 Katie standing by the piano as cool as a cucumber 
 while her clear, sweet voice went ringing through 
 the room ; and looking so pretty and self-possessed 
 as she returned to her place amid the general ap- 
 plause. 
 
 Not that the girls withheld their applause from 
 Miriam. They were always good-natured enough 
 if they saw any one was nervous ; but it hurt 
 Miriam's pride to think that they only did it to 
 encourage her. And then for Katie to go and tell 
 it round that she was ready to cry ! That was 
 more than she could bear. " I don't care a pin 
 what Katie says ! " she exclaimed angrily ; " and it's 
 no business of yours, Tom Rivers ! " 
 
 " I daresay not," said Tom, with provoking good- 
 humour. " Tell you what is business of mine, 
 though. What do you mean by telling all those 
 fibs about me ? I haven't even got a grandfather 
 wish I had ! You could just as well say 
 ' Bob.' "
 
 TOM. 1 1 
 
 " Bob isn't in the song," said Miriam, tossing her 
 head. 
 
 " That's no matter," said Tom, swinging both legs 
 over the fence and jumping down. " I don't choose 
 to have such things sung about me ; so you'd better 
 promise, or else 
 
 " I'm not going to promise any such thing," said 
 Miriam, with another toss of her head. " And you've 
 no right in the plantation at all ; it belongs to my 
 father." 
 
 " No, it doesn't," retorted Tom ; " because your 
 father pays rent to mine for it, and I'm not going 
 till I've punished you." 
 
 Miriam's basket was on the ground at her feet, 
 and Tom, who by this time had approached quite 
 close, snatched it up, and commenced swinging it 
 about by the handle. 
 
 " Oh, don't ! " cried Miriam. " You'll upset them 
 all again." 
 
 "Promise, then," said Tom "'Dick and Harry 
 and Bob ! ' " 
 
 But Miriam stood out firmly. 
 
 " Can you climb a tree ? " asked Tom suddenly. 
 " Katie can." 
 
 " Of course I could, if I chose," said Miriam. 
 
 Tom slung the basket on his arm, hugged the 
 trunk of a big lime tree, and proceeded to draw 
 himself up, scattering primroses as he went. When
 
 12 TOM. 
 
 he was some height up he hooked the basket on to 
 a twig, chose out a comfortable seat for himself, and 
 folded his arms. 
 
 " Now ! " exclaimed he. 
 
 Miriam was in a fix. It was plain that she was 
 in Tom's power, and that sooner or later she would 
 have to give in. She always had to in the end, 
 when Tom took it into his head to tease which 
 was rather often. 
 
 " I shall tell papa," she said, after a few minutes. 
 
 Tom set to work picking little bits off the twigs 
 and dropping them down upon her upturned face. 
 
 " I thought you could climb," said he. " Why 
 don't you come up and get the basket ? I'm not a 
 baboon. I shouldn't hurt you ; in fact, if you can 
 get up here we won't say any more about 'Sob.' " 
 
 " Don't they smell nice ! " he went on, drawing 
 long whiffs of their delicate scent, as Miriam made 
 no reply. "Ah ! " 
 
 " You'd better bring them down at once," said 
 Miriam angrily, "or I'll go straight home and 
 complain to papa." 
 
 " Wouldn't it like one ? " said Tom in a coaxing 
 tone; "just one? Open its mouth!" and picking 
 out a beauty, he dropped it right on her face. 
 
 This was more than Miriam could stand. " I'll 
 tell you what it is," she said : " you're a nasty, dis- 
 agreeable fellow, and I hate you, Tom Rivers ! "
 
 TOM. \ 3 
 
 " You might hate the man in the moon, but you 
 couldn't get at him," jeered Tom. 
 
 "And if ever I get a chance I'll serve you out 
 for it that I will ! " 
 
 " Oh ! pray," cried Tom, pretending to be so 
 frightened that he made the whole bough tremble, 
 " what shall I do ? " But with these words he 
 nearly lost his balance, and leaving hold of the 
 basket to save himself, it fell to the ground, catch- 
 ing among the twigs in its descent, and scattering 
 the primroses in a shower. 
 
 Miriam picked up the basket and walked slowly 
 away. 
 
 " I wish you'd fallen instead, and broken your 
 neck ! " she muttered as she went. 
 
 " That's a good Christian girl," Tom called after 
 her. 
 
 Miriam knew it was not right to wish anything 
 so dreadful, but somehow she could not help it. 
 Tom was always teasing her, and it was no wonder 
 if she thought him disagreeable. So when she 
 read in her Bible, " Do good to those that despite- 
 fully use you and persecute you," she thought it 
 ^hardly meant such boys as Tom.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 WHAT UNCLE MERRY BROUGHT. 
 
 IF Tom had not a grandfather, Miriam had a 
 great-uncle. In fact her chief object in taking 
 her primrose-basket out into the plantation that 
 morning had been to make the house look bright 
 with flowers, for Great-uncle Merry was expected 
 to dinner. 
 
 Miriam had got so angry with Tom that she 
 positively forgot all about this until she got right 
 indoors and smelt the fragrant scent of baking. 
 There was always a special kind of cake made on 
 these occasions, and it was just that minute out of 
 the oven. 
 
 The smell of baking brought Uncle Merry to 
 mind at once but not the flowers. Miriam's 
 thoughts, which were in the habit of flying very 
 rapidly, were too often directed upon her own 
 interests. Her great -uncle never came without 
 bringing her a present, and she was so absorbed in 
 wondering what it would be this time that it had
 
 WHAT UNCLE MERRY BROUGHT. 15 
 
 quite slipped her mind how pretty she had meant 
 to make his welcome. Selfishness is a wonderfully 
 rampant weed. 
 
 " I know what I should like" said Miriam to 
 herself, flinging down the basket and running to 
 the dining-room to see the time. 
 
 "Miss Miriam ! " called Susan from the kitchen 
 door. 
 
 Miriam gave a hasty glance at the timepiece and 
 hurried out. " Just time to change my frock," she 
 said to herself as she went. 
 
 "Your mamma has got all the glasses in here, 
 Miss Miriam," said Susan, as she appeared. 
 
 " How lovely that cake smells ! " cried Miriam. 
 " Glasses' ! what glasses, Sue ? " 
 
 Miriam's mother answered. " For the primroses," 
 replied she from within ; " and I want you to come 
 at once and arrange them for me. You will just 
 have time." 
 
 Miriam's countenance fell. 
 
 " But where are they ? " continued her mother, 
 on seeing her empty hands. " Haven't you brought 
 any, after all ? " 
 
 " I did pick a lot" answered Miriam, beginning 
 to turn red " a whole basketful." 
 
 " And left them behind ? " 
 
 " It was that nasty boy Tom Rivers," answered 
 Miriam, looking down. "I hate him! and I wish
 
 1 6 WHAT UNCLE MERRY BROUGHT. 
 
 he'd fallen instead of the basket, and broken his 
 neck." And thereupon she related how Tom had 
 teased her about her song and carried off her prim- 
 roses up the tree. " I wish he'd killed himself ! " * 
 repeated Miriam. 
 
 " Gently, gently!" interposed mamma. " I hardly 
 think you would be glad to see your friend Katie 
 in such terrible trouble." 
 
 "I shouldn't care," said Miriam. "Katie's every 
 bit as bad as Tom. It was Katie told him I was 
 ready to cry, and that was what made Tom tease 
 me. I hate them both." And away she skulked, 
 with a face as black as pitch ; so Susan had to 
 carry back the flower-glasses empty. 
 
 Half-an-hour later the hall was resounding with 
 Great-uncle Merry's voice, which was as cheery as his 
 name ; and Miriam was tugging him out of his over- 
 coat, dying with curiosity to know what was in the 
 pockets, and wishing she might poke about in them 
 to see. But Great-uncle Merry had his own ideas 
 about such things. Perhaps he thought patience 
 was a good sauce for enjoyment ; or perhaps he 
 wanted to make sure that it was himself and not 
 the present that Miriam was so glad to see. Any- 
 how, not until his watch began to warn him it was 
 time to think of going home did Uncle Merry say 
 a word upon the subject. 
 
 Miriam was perched upon the arm of Great- 
 
 (254)
 
 WHAT UNCLE MERRY BROUGHT. 17 
 
 uncle Merry's chair, and he was playing with her 
 hair. 
 
 " Oh, don't go yet," cried Miriam, as he felt for 
 his chain. " Perhaps if you weren't to look at the 
 watch the hands would stop." And Miriam tried 
 to hide it between her palms. But Great-uncle 
 Merry shook his head. 
 
 " If the hands stop, time won't," said he sagely, 
 rattling his bunch of seals ; so Miriam had to give 
 it up. 
 
 " Ten minutes more, and then I'm off," said Great- 
 uncle Merry. " But, by-the-by, I haven't said a 
 word of what I've brought for you. Now guess." 
 
 " A pocket full of air," said Miriam saucily. 
 
 Great-uncle Merry made a face, declaring himself 
 half a mind to let her abide by her guess. But 
 Miriam begged and prayed so that his dear old heart 
 was softened. 
 
 " What do you want most of all ? " asked he. 
 
 Miriam thought a minute, then made as if to 
 speak, but held her tongue, as though she didn't 
 like to say. 
 
 " Well," said Uncle Merry, " time's half up." 
 
 Miriam clasped her hands. " O Uncle Merry, I 
 did want a lovely gold locket like Katie were last 
 night," said she, in her most coaxing way. 
 
 " You did ? " said Uncle Merry. " Just like all 
 the lasses, full of vanity ! Well, let's see what I've 
 
 (254) 2
 
 1 8 WHAT UNCLE MERRY BROUGHT. 
 
 got ; " and after fumbling mysteriously in his waist- 
 coat pocket he drew out a bright new half-sovereign. 
 "Now you can please yourself," said he. "Mind 
 you spend it well." 
 
 Miriam threw her arms around his neck and 
 fairly smothered him. " Oh, you dear old Uncle 
 Merry ! " she began. But Uncle Merry shook her 
 off and went to get his coat. 
 
 Meanwhile Tom had gone home to tell Katie 
 what a pet Miriam was in about the primroses. 
 
 Now Tom was not altogether bad, only he had 
 a sad love of teasing. He had only intended to 
 plague Miriam a little at first about the song ; but 
 when she turned so red he could not resist the temp- 
 tation of jumping over the palings and carrying off 
 her basket. Even then he did not mean to leave it 
 up the tree, and upsetting it was quite an accident. 
 But when Miriam lost her temper and got so angry, 
 Tom altogether forgot that he was in the wrong, 
 and he felt very proud of himself up there, swinging 
 his legs and whistling, as he watched her out of the 
 plantation. Then he got out his knife, and cut his 
 name on the tree. 
 
 At last, after waiting a long while to see if Miriam 
 would come back as soon as she fancied he was gone, 
 he began to get cold and hungry ; so he shut his 
 knife up with a click and descended. 
 
 " Wasn't she ivild ! " said he to himself, as he
 
 WHAT UNCLE MERRY BROUGHT. 19 
 
 stepped over the heap of primroses and made for 
 the palings ; " and won't Katie laugh ! " 
 
 But Katie didn't laugh. " Tom," she exclaimed, 
 " how could you be so unkind ? You ought to go 
 right back and gather another basketful for her." 
 
 " Catch me," laughed Tom. " How red she got, 
 though ! " 
 
 " I think it was very mean of you," said Katie. 
 ' You knew she couldn't get the basket if you put 
 it up there. It wasn't kind to tease her about her 
 song either." 
 
 " All very fine," retorted Tom. " Who told me 
 she was ready to cry ? " 
 
 " But I didn't intend to tease her about it," said 
 Katie ; " and I clapped my hands till they smarted." 
 
 " You're just like a girl," said Tom, turning on 
 his heel. " They're like weathercocks. They go 
 whichever way the wind blows. That's why boys 
 can't play with them." 
 
 " O Tom," cried Katie, " I learned to climb trees 
 and jump ditches on purpose to be able to play with 
 you, and I always stand up for you ; now, don't I ? " 
 
 " What's the use of that ? " snarled Tom. " As if 
 I was a baby, and wanted any one to stand up for 
 me ! " and off he stalked to examine his new rabbit- 
 hutch, looking very big. But in reality Tom felt 
 rather small ; for he cared a good deal about Katie's 
 opinion, and it spoilt the fun of teasing Miriam to
 
 20 WHAT UNCLE MERRY BROUGHT. 
 
 think that Katie didn't approve. He didn't half 
 enjoy the new rabbit-hutch all alone either ; so he 
 went to peep in at the stable door, and startled the 
 pony by calling, " Gee-up ! " Then he marched 
 off to the poultry-yard, and amused himself by 
 making the hens believe that he was going to feed 
 them ; and when they came tiptoe, stretching up 
 their necks to see what he had got for them, he 
 opened his hand and showed that it was empty. 
 
 At last, however, they found out that he was 
 only making fun of them, and declined to take any 
 further notice ; so Tom had to think of something 
 else to do. But he took good care to keep out of 
 Katie's way till dinner-time.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 "GREAT" AND "GOOD:' 
 
 IMMEDIATELY after dinner Katie slipped round 
 to Tom's side. " Let's go in the woods, Tom," 
 whispered she. " I do so want to get some violets 
 down by the brook. We can cross on the stones, 
 like we did last time." 
 
 But Tom grumbled something about not being in 
 the humour. 
 
 Katie began to coax. "O Tom," begged she, 
 " the Easter holidays will be up the day after to- 
 morrow, you know, and it may rain to-morrow. 
 You had the rabbit-hutch to paint yesterday ; but 
 now that's done, and looks so nice, you might go." 
 
 Tom would have said yes at once if it had not 
 been for what Katie had said about Miriam ; how- 
 ever, he brightened up when she began to praise the 
 rabbit-hutch. "I must feed the rabbits first," said he. 
 
 Katie skipped off to get her hat, without waiting 
 for any further answer; and in a very short space of 
 time they were on their road, as good friends as ever.
 
 22 "GREAT" AND "GOOD." 
 
 The way they chose led from the farm-yard across 
 some fields, and through a little copse on the hill- 
 side to the brook, beyond which lay the woods. 
 There were plenty of anemones in the copse, and 
 a good many violets peeping out in little clusters 
 from amongst the grass. But Katie did not want 
 to stop for these, so they pushed on. 
 
 The hazel bushes grew thicker and more tangled 
 the nearer they were to the brook, and swished 
 their long green catkins in Katie's face as she tried 
 to keep up with Tom. This was no easy matter, 
 for they caught her dress and held her back ; but 
 she fought bravely on until they arrived at the 
 hurdle fence. Katie drew a long breath. 
 
 " Now for it," said Tom, placing his hand on the 
 top bar. 
 
 " Once, twice, thrice ! " cried Katie, and in less 
 than a minute they were on the other side. 
 
 " Not many girls can do like that," said Tom, 
 with an air of pride. " You're as good as a boy to 
 go out with." 
 
 The brook was low, for it was dry weather ; so 
 they got down and walked along on the pebbles, 
 with the high banks towering up above them, and 
 the willows overhead reaching down their gray tufts 
 as if they longed for a dip in the clear bright stream. 
 Here and there the bed of the brook was so narrow 
 and muddy that they had to clamber up again ;
 
 "GREAT" AND "GOOD." 23 
 
 which was rather a difficult undertaking, because 
 the bank had been washed away in winter when 
 the stream was swollen with the melted snow, and 
 it was by no means easy to get a foothold. 
 
 The worst place of all was where the copse came 
 to an end, and the brook flowed on between two 
 fields. The water was quite deep here ; and a ditch, 
 surmounted by a hedge, stood between them and 
 the field. Fortunately, however, in the hedge was 
 a gap, which had merely been stopped up with a 
 hurdle. They had only to leap the ditch and climb 
 the bank, and it would be easy to get over. 
 
 " Forward ! " shouted Tom, suiting the action to 
 the word. "Into the trench and scale the ramparts!" 
 
 Katie obeyed the word of command ; and after 
 a few slips and a little scrambling they conquered 
 the difficulty, and were soon half-way up the 
 field ; then across the brook, where some flat stones 
 made a regular ford, and into the wood. 
 
 Here the ground was studded with the delicate 
 blossoms of the primrose and wood-anemone, peeping 
 out from among their pale green leaves, and cluster- 
 ing around the roots of the trees as if they loved 
 the dear old friends who had cast such a warm 
 mantle over them during the winter frost. Katie 
 began gathering at once, whilst Tom dug up some 
 roots with his knife, and then set to work at his 
 favourite occupation of cutting his initials on a tree.
 
 24 "GREAT" AND "GOOD." 
 
 As soon as her basket was full, Katie came and 
 looked over Tom, who was just finishing the R. 
 
 " How big you've made the letters, Tom ! " she 
 cried. 
 
 " They won't grow up in a hurry," observed Tom, 
 twisting his head on one side, and stepping back a 
 little to see the effect. " It's like making your mark 
 in the world. Our usher says that if you want to 
 do that you mustn't be afraid of work, because only 
 great actions bring lasting fame." 
 
 Tom looked as if he had said something very 
 grand, as he put his knife in his pocket ; but Katie's 
 face wore a thoughtful expression. 
 
 " Our governess says it doesn't so much matter 
 about being great," she said, "as long as we're good." 
 
 " That's all very well for girls," said Tom ; " but 
 it wouldn't do for boys and men soldiers for in- 
 stance. Soldiers have to be brave, and do great 
 things." 
 
 "Only Miss Ansell says the little things show what 
 we're made of," rejoined Katie ; " and that if we're 
 made of the right stuff we shall be brave without 
 thinking about it, when there's any need." 
 
 Miss Ansell was quite right, and Katie had 
 understood exactly what she meant. If boys and 
 girls are made of the true metal they will grow up 
 to be like good tools, ready for use whenever the 
 Master's hand has need of them ; and the only way
 
 "GREAT" AND "GOOD." 25 
 
 to be " faithful in that which is greatest " is to he 
 " faithful in that which is least." 
 
 " Do girls ever cut their initials on trees ? " asked 
 Katie presently. 
 
 " I don't think they do," said Tom ; " but you 
 might, because you can climb almost like a boy 
 only don't break my new knife." 
 
 Katie laughed and took the knife in her hand ; 
 and after some pains, and a very little assistance, 
 soon succeeded in carving a very creditable " K R " 
 though the K looked rather as if it had a mind 
 to kick the R round to the other side of the trunk. 
 
 Then they went on again to the bank where the 
 violets grew ; and by the time they had gathered 
 enough, the sun warned them that it was time to 
 go home ; so they turned back, Tom carrying the 
 roots, and Katie the flowers. 
 
 They had decided upon returning a different way, 
 which would bring them home by the lane that led 
 past the plantation, because Katie wanted some 
 small-leafed ivy off the fence. Tom's knife had to 
 come out again to strip it off, it clung so tightly to 
 the wood ; meanwhile Katie amused herself with 
 peeping over. 
 
 " I wish we lived here," said she. " It would be 
 so nice to play at wild Indians all among these big 
 trees. And oh ! look, Tom there's such a beauty 
 has been blown down. It will be chopped up for
 
 26 "GREAT" AND "GOOD? 
 
 faggots now. What a pity !" (It was the very one 
 Miriam had been sitting on that morning.) 
 
 " My name is up that one," said Tom, pointing to 
 the lime tree, " ever so high." 
 
 " Is it ? " cried Katie, who was always proud of 
 Tom's achievements. " When did you do it ? " 
 
 " This morning," said Tom, suddenly remembering 
 about Miriam. 
 
 " Oh " said Katie, who remembered too. 
 
 W T hen they got opposite the garden gate Katie 
 stopped. " Tom," said she, " I've a lot more prim- 
 roses than I shall want. Shall we go and give 
 Miriam some ? " 
 
 " She can get plenty in the plantation," said Tom. 
 
 " But we might give her some of these," said Katie. 
 
 " I don't see why we should pick flowers for her'' 
 grumbled Tom. 
 
 " But you know," began Katie, " you upset 
 
 " Well, she shouldn't have been in such a temper," 
 interrupted Tom, who, to tell the truth, was heartily 
 ashamed of himself, though he was too proud to 
 own it. 
 
 But Katie persisted. 
 
 " I should like to give her some, if you wouldn't 
 mind going on without me," said she. 
 
 "All very fine," grumbled Tom, as the gate swung 
 after her. " I went on purpose to please you, and 
 now I'm to go home by myself."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 KATIE TRIES TO MAKE AMENDS. 
 
 MIRIAM was just returning from the henhouse 
 with a basket of new-laid eggs for Great- 
 uncle Merry, when Katie ran up the path calling, 
 " Miriam, I've brought you some primroses." 
 
 Miriam walked slowly towards her. 
 
 " Who said I wanted any primroses ? " she asked 
 sullenly. 
 
 " I thought you would be sure to like some," re- 
 plied Katie. " We've been into the wood for them, 
 and I don't want more than half of what we've 
 gathered. See what a quantity ! Aren't they 
 lovely ? " 
 
 " They're very pretty," said Miriam, who would 
 really have liked some for her great-uncle to take 
 home with him. " But I don't want them. I can 
 get plenty. They're common enough." 
 
 Katie thought this a very ungracious way of 
 receiving her offer ; but she was determined to be 
 good-natured.
 
 28 KATIE TRIES TO MAKE AMENDS. 
 
 " Won't you have some violets ? " she asked ; 
 " they're sweet-smelling ones." 
 
 " Mamma doesn't like them in the house," replied 
 Miriam ; " they make her head ache. No, thank you, 
 Kate ; I won't rob you." 
 
 "You wouldn't be robbing me," Katie assured 
 her ; " I gathered plenty on purpose, because I knew 
 you were fond of them, and I wanted to make up 
 for Tom being so rude this morning," she added. 
 
 " What difference will your violets make to that ? " 
 said Miriam disdainfully. " I've no doubt you've 
 both been laughing about it. Anyhow, I don't sup- 
 pose Tom is sorry, is he ? " 
 
 Katie couldn't truthfully say she thought he 
 was. 
 
 " I don't want any flowers that Tom has picked," 
 Miriam went on ; " nor yet any that you've picked 
 either, for you're just as bad." 
 
 " Miriam ! " cried Katie, "/ never tease you." 
 
 " You told Tom I was ready to cry at the party," 
 said Miriam angrily. " But I don't care for either of 
 you ; and I can't stay talking now, because mamma 
 is waiting for these eggs for Great-uncle Merry ; " 
 and so saying, off she marched, leaving Katie in the 
 middle of the path. 
 
 Katie turned and walked slowly back. 
 
 Tom was still outside the gate waiting for her. 
 
 " Hullo !" cried he ; "wouldn't she have 'em? Ho !
 
 KATIE TRIES TO MAKE AMENDS. 29 
 
 isn't she proud ? I tell you, Katie, it's of no use 
 troubling about her ; only you're just like a girl." 
 
 " But you were in the wrong, Tom," said his sis- 
 ter, " so it's for us to try and make it up. Perhaps 
 she'd have taken them if you'd gone with me and 
 said you were sorry." 
 
 " I wasn't going to do that" said Tom doggedly. 
 
 It was plain argument would do no good ; so 
 Katie dropped the subject, and Tom stalked on in 
 dignified silence a step or two ahead, swinging his 
 bundle of roots and whistling. 
 
 This was not a very nice ending to their happy 
 afternoon. Katie almost wished she had not persisted 
 in offering Miriam the flowers, since it had made 
 matters rather worse than better. This Katie was 
 a peace-loving little maiden, and she was racking 
 her brains to think what she could say to bring Tom 
 round. She was just about to speak, when a sudden 
 hue and cry some little way behind made them both 
 turn sharply round. 
 
 A small boy, barefoot and bareheaded, was tear- 
 ing full speed down the road 'after them ; and some 
 fifteen or twenty yards behind, but rapidly gaining 
 on him, was another bigger boy, with a stout stick 
 in his hand. 
 
 " That's Dick Bull at his tricks again," cried Tom, 
 forgetting all about Miriam and the flowers. " Hi ! 
 stop there ! stop, I say ! "
 
 30 KATIE TRIES TO MAKE AMENDS. 
 
 But Dick showed no signs of paying any heed. 
 
 " Stop there ! " shouted Tom again, taking a step 
 or two out to meet him, and holding up his hand. 
 But Dick only grinned savagely, and swung the 
 stick around his head, as much as to say, " Keep 
 clear ! " 
 
 He was now almost close upon the poor fugitive, 
 whose face was crimson with terror and exertion. 
 A minute more and he would be within reach. The 
 wretched child, who was not much more than half 
 his size, seemed to feel Dick's breath upon his neck. 
 He turned to cast a terrified backward glance, 
 swerved sideways, and, tripping on a little heap of 
 turf cutting, fell full length, with his arms before 
 him, and his face in a bed of nettles. 
 
 Dick uttered a yell of delight, and rushing for- 
 ward, seized upon the poor wretch and fell to 
 belabouring him unmercifully with the stick. But 
 now was Tom's time to show his mettle. Flinging 
 aside his bundle of roots, he sprang across the road, 
 and seized the young ruffian by the collar.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION. 
 
 DICK BULL was a year older than Tom, and 
 a size bigger a lad with the making of a 
 bully in him. But Tom didn't stop to think about 
 that. All he knew was that poor, half-witted little 
 Tim Dick's step-brother was on the ground, with 
 his face in a bed of nettles ; and that no boy with 
 a grain of pluck in him ought to stand by and see 
 a fellow knocked about when he was down. 
 
 " Come off him ! " shouted he, tugging with might 
 and main at Dick's collar. " Let him get up, or you 
 shall be sorry ! " 
 
 " You dare to interfere," bellowed Dick, without 
 relaxing hold. " It's no business of yours. Hold 
 off, or I'll let you know it." And slashing round 
 with his stick, Dick caught Tom such a blow across 
 the knuckles as brought the water to his eyes. 
 
 " Stop that ! " cried Tom, " and let him be, I say." 
 And with a tremendous effort he pulled Dick off and 
 threw him down on the ground.
 
 32 RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION. 
 
 But Dick was up in an instant, and turned upon 
 him savagely. "What business have you to meddle ?" 
 yelled he, squaring up to Tom. 
 
 " What business have you to ill-use that poor 
 fellow ? " said Tom, getting between him and his 
 step-brother. " Let him go home, or I'll have you 
 sent to jail for it." 
 
 " Get out of my way, or I'll smash your head in!" 
 roared Dick. " I'll fight you, and teach you to mind 
 what don't concern you." 
 
 " O Tom ! " cried Katie in alarm, " don't fight." 
 But Tom's jacket was already off. 
 
 " I'm not afraid of you," said he to Dick, rolling 
 up his sleeves. " You're bigger than I am, but 
 you're a coward, or you wouldn't be so mean as to 
 ill-use a boy that can't defend himself." 
 
 " He should learn to mind what I say," retorted 
 Dick ; " and if he hasn't got wits enough to learn 
 any other way, he must be taught with a stick." 
 
 " I'll give you a thrashing first," threatened Tom 
 stoutly, " or take it myself." 
 
 " Come on, then!" yelled Dick, throwing away his 
 stick, and rushing forward with such a tremendous 
 blow at Tom's chest that Tom staggered backward, 
 and for the instant all the breath seemed gone out 
 of his body. 
 
 Dick uttered a jeering laugh, thinking he had 
 given Tom his quietus. " That's a taste for you,"
 
 RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION. 33 
 
 said he, making towards him again, " and I don't 
 recommend 
 
 But before he could finish Tom had recovered, 
 and was up and at him ; and for several seconds 
 blows on both sides fell fast and thick. 
 
 Tom, like most other boys, had had his share of 
 fighting to do at school, though he was not one to 
 seek a quarrel. He knew how to guard and parry ; 
 but Dick fought with the desperateness of a bully, 
 and before long Tom's face was getting pretty well 
 knocked about. 
 
 Katie looked on in terrible distress, whilst Tim, 
 who by this time had got up out of the nettles, 
 had gathered himself together for a run, and was 
 making the best of a speedy retreat, crying and 
 rubbing his blistered face as he went. 
 
 Meanwhile Tom's blood was too much up to let 
 him heed his bruises. He began to wonder, though, 
 how much longer he could hold out, for he was 
 getting terribly out of breath. But suddenly Tom 
 thought of a manoeuvre he had seen done at school. 
 All in a minute, just as Dick drew in his fist to 
 launch one of his terrific blows, Katie saw Tom duck 
 his head and rush forward, closing with Dick in a 
 desperate embrace. For a short time they hugged and 
 tussled, and swayed and wrestled, Dick threatening 
 every minute to crush the breath out of his slighter 
 adversary ; but just when it seemed as if, by sheer 
 
 (254) 3
 
 34 RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION. 
 
 force of superior weight, Dick must press him down 
 to the ground, Tom himself suddenly stooped, thrust 
 one leg forward, gripped Dick below the centre of 
 gravity, and before he knew what was happening, 
 had him sprawling on the ground. 
 
 " There ! " said he. " Perhaps that'll teach you 
 that it doesn't always do to bully boys who are 
 smaller than yourself." 
 
 Then picking up his jacket, and beckoning Katie 
 to follow, Tom turned homeward, leaving the fallen 
 braggart to pick himself up. 
 
 Meanwhile Tom was at leisure to examine his 
 own knuckles, which were considerably cut and 
 bruised. 
 
 " How does my face look, Katie ? " he asked, 
 turning full towards her. 
 
 Poor tender-hearted Katie was horrified at his 
 appearance ; but bad as that was, Tom looked ten 
 times worse an hour afterwards, when, having 
 related the story of his encounter, and got his 
 bruises bandaged with raw beef, he sat down to 
 tea. 
 
 " I never beat a fellow with so much satisfaction," 
 said he, though, as he fell to work on the bread and 
 butter; for between the excursion to the woods, 
 and the fight with Dick, and the delay consequent 
 on bathing and dressing his damaged head and 
 hands, Tom's appetite was pretty keen.
 
 RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION. 35 
 
 Mrs. Rivers was inclined to look rather seriously 
 at it. 
 
 " I don't like your getting into fights with boys 
 of Dick's sort," said she. 
 
 " But I guess you wouldn't have liked to see me 
 stand by, mother, and let him flog Tim," returned 
 the young hero. " That's a thing I couldn't do," 
 added Tom with conviction; "and I fancy I've 
 given him a lesson he won't forget in a hurry." 
 
 " Was he much hurt ? " Katie asked. 
 
 " Not more than he deserved," answered Tom 
 promptly. "I made sure of that before I came 
 away. You always do, you know," added Tom, 
 with an air of importance that caused his mother 
 to smile in spite of herself, " when you fight a fel- 
 low. But you can see at a glance if he's really 
 damaged," he concluded. " Dick was only humbled." 
 
 " I don't like fighting," Tom confided to Katie 
 afterwards. " But there is such a thing as righteous 
 indignation, you know, and when that gets hold of a 
 fellow he has to fight." 
 
 " Like the old knights used to," said Katie ad- 
 miringly. 
 
 " Only they used to fight on horseback," said 
 Tom ; " and it was generally on behalf of some girl 
 or other. Nobody was thought anything of who 
 wasn't ready to give his life for a girl." 
 
 Katie's thoughts reverted to Miriam in the plan-
 
 36 RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION. 
 
 tation, and she couldn't help wondering what would 
 have been the verdict in those chivalrous old times 
 on a boy who should behave as rudely to a girl as 
 Tom had done to her. 
 
 But as regarded the effect of the lesson he had 
 taught Dick, Tom was mistaken, and Dick was only 
 the more spiteful to his afflicted little step-brother 
 for the defeat he had sustained at the hands of 
 Tim's champion. 
 
 Meanwhile Tom's knuckles healed, and the bruises 
 on his face turned from black to green, and from 
 green to brown, until by the end of the week it was 
 doubtful whether there would be much trace of them 
 left to show to the boys at school by the following 
 Monday.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MIRIAM'S KNIGHT-ERRANT. 
 
 TOM saw no more of Dick Bull before the holi- 
 days were up, partly because for the first two 
 days he himself was such an unsightly object that 
 he preferred not showing his face to the general 
 public, and partly because if Dick had chanced to 
 see Tom coming in his direction he would have got 
 out of the way in double-quick time. 
 
 In the meanwhile Tom had another opportunity 
 of exercising his disposition to chivalry. 
 
 Saturday turned out such a beautiful day that, 
 after a due inspection of his looking-glass, Tom de- 
 clared he should hang about the garden no longer. 
 Unfortunately, however, Katie had to stay indoors, 
 because the dressmaker was coming to see about some 
 alterations in a dress which did not sit quite right ; 
 so Tom had to go by himself. 
 
 Fact was, -Tom had grown heartily tired of the 
 garden. For the first day or two the stiff, swollen 
 state of his face had kept reminding him that he
 
 38 MIRIAM'S KNIGHT-ERRANT. 
 
 was a bit of a hero ; and of course heroes do differ- 
 ent things from ordinary people. But as the bruises 
 healed Tom gradually descended from his pedestal, 
 and became once more an ordinary sort of individual. 
 First he grew impatient about the ugly green patches; 
 then he grew callous whether people thought them 
 ornamental or not ; finally he arrived at the conclu- 
 sion that it was " like a girl " to stay in for the 
 sake of his appearance. So grasping his stick in 
 one hand, and thrusting the other in his trousers 
 pocket, he set off at a brisk pace to enjoy the west 
 wind and the sunshine, still looking rather unsightly, 
 but whistling a lively tune. 
 
 Passing the plantation, Tom's tune changed, and 
 he began whistling "Dick and Harry and Tom," just 
 as he had heard Miriam sing it as she sat upon the 
 fallen tree ; for Tom was quick at catching up a tune. 
 
 " I wonder if she's there this morning," said 
 Tom to himself, clambering up to the palings to 
 peep over. 
 
 The flowers, all withered and dead, were lying at 
 the foot of the tree ; but Miriam was nowhere to 
 be seen. 
 
 " I don't believe she's been here since," said Tom 
 to himself. " That's just like Miriam." But Tom 
 half wished in the bottom of his heart that he 
 hadn't done it. The flowers looked so sad; they 
 seemed to reproach him.
 
 MIRIAM'S KNIGHT-ERRANT. 39 
 
 " If it had not been for you," they seemed to say, 
 " we might still have been adorning the house with 
 our beauty and fragrance." 
 
 Ah, what lovely flowers of peace and happiness 
 we may destroy by unkind words or acts ! and how 
 anxious we should be to " scatter seeds of kindness 
 for our reaping by-and-by ! " 
 
 Tom hung there on the palings some time, half 
 inclined to get over and climb the lime tree to see 
 how his initials looked ; but he changed his mind. 
 In the field at the further end of the plantation was 
 a pond where he often went to catch tadpoles and 
 water-newts ; and thither Tom directed his steps. 
 The pond lay in a deep hollow, hidden by a group 
 of firs and larches, and fringed by a thick tangle 
 of bramble and furze, now all golden with bloom. 
 Tom pushed the gate open, went straight across the 
 grass to a gap where the bushes had been cut away 
 for the cattle to go down and drink, and began to 
 poke about in the water with his stick. But there 
 were no tadpoles to be seen. He was just turning 
 away, when he heard a great splash at the other 
 side, and glancing across, whom should he see but 
 Miriam, with one foot in the water, clinging tightly 
 with both hands to an overhanging bough, her 
 dress held fast by the hooked thorns of the dog-rose 
 brambles. 
 
 " Hold on till I come," cried Tom, elbowing his
 
 40 MIRIAM'S KNIGHT-ERRANT. 
 
 way in among the furze bushes. " Hold tight ! If 
 the other foot slips you'll be done for." 
 
 " Don't come near me ! " screamed Miriam, turning 
 scarlet, and struggling to get her dress free. " I can 
 get out quite well by myself. It's all your fault I 
 slipped. You've come on purpose to plague me." 
 
 " I didn't know you were here till I heard your 
 foot go splash," called Tom. " Hold on ! I'm coming 
 to help you. I'm your knight-errant." 
 
 The bank was so slippery that Tom was afraid 
 he would never reach Miriam in time. He crushed 
 through the brambles, regardless of consequences; 
 but the tangle was so thick that it was hard work 
 to make any progress. 
 
 " How did you get there ? " exclaimed he. 
 
 But Miriam was struggling too hard to answer, 
 and just as Tom was almost within arm's length, by 
 a desperate effort she regained her footing and tore 
 her dress free. 
 
 " How you've hurt your hands ! " cried Tom. 
 
 They were all scratched and bleeding. There 
 were some dreadful rents, too, in her frock, which 
 was all splashed and muddy. But Miriam was so 
 vexed that she hardly felt the smart. "I don't 
 care," cried she ; " I would rather scratch them a 
 hundred times over than be helped by you, for 
 you're a nasty, disagreeable boy, and my papa is 
 going to give you a good talking to."
 
 MIRIAMS KNIGHT-ERRANT. 41 
 
 "You don't suppose / care for that !" retorted Tom 
 contemptuously, turning away and preparing to 
 push his way back through the furze. " And I'll 
 see you drown, another time, before I'll offer to help 
 you." 
 
 " What a horrid-tempered thing she is ! " he said 
 to himself, as he crossed the grass ; " and how glad 
 I am that I didn't tell her I was sorry ! " And off 
 he strode, feeling very much Miriam's superior. 
 
 " I say, though, you began it all," said Tom's con- 
 science. 
 
 " Well, she had no need to be so cross because I 
 quizzed her a little," urged Tom in self-defence. 
 
 " But when you saw she didn't like it, the kindest 
 and most Christian thing would have been to drop 
 it at once," expostulated the tiresome little monitor. 
 
 " She's only a girl after all," said Tom, " and girls 
 are silly all except Katie. I shouldn't wonder a 
 bit if she doesn't even know what a knight-errant 
 is ; " for Tom was a little sore that his knight- 
 errantry had been rejected. " As to her father, I 
 don't care that for him ! " And Tom snapped his 
 fingers and broke out whistling. Nevertheless, he 
 chose a way home that didn't lead him past Mr. 
 Grayson's, thereby proving the truth of the good old 
 saying that " conscience makes cowards of us all."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 HA YMAKING BEGINS. 
 
 THE early spring flowers died, and the orchards 
 showered clown their pink and white snow. 
 Then the cuckoo came ; the meadows grew golden 
 with buttercups, and farmers watched the waving 
 grass until the gold, too, died out of it, and left it 
 brown and purple with the ripening seed ready 
 for the scythe. Then dog-roses began to peep out 
 in the hedges ; the cuckoo's note grew uncertain ; 
 and bands of men, hot and travel-stained, trudged 
 along the roads and lanes with scythes over their 
 shoulders and whetstones strapped to their waist- 
 belts. 
 
 All through this lovely spring-time Miriam had 
 scarcely spoken to Katie. 
 
 Katie had made more than one attempt at a 
 reconciliation. She had tried to wait for Miriam 
 coming out of school, as she always used to. She 
 had started early to waylay her by the end of the 
 plantation ; she had offered her pencil when the
 
 HAYMAKING BEGINS. 43 
 
 point of Miriam's broke ; and, in short, had done 
 a hundred and one things to show her that she 
 wanted to be friends. But all her overtures of 
 peace were rejected. Miriam always managed to 
 be looking the other way when Katie tried to speak 
 to her ; and immediately school was over she always 
 linked arms with some other girl, and went off 
 whispering, to show Katie that she was not wanted. 
 
 Meanwhile haymaking had commenced. 
 
 It was late afternoon when Mr. Gray son's hay- 
 makers arrived. Their faces were scorched and 
 sunburnt, and they dragged their feet wearily as 
 they came up the yard. They had been on the 
 tramp since three that morning ; for, like many 
 haymakers, they came from a distance. 
 
 Mr. Grayson was indoors at tea when they ar- 
 rived, but he went out at once to speak to them, 
 and Miriam soon followed. These men had cut her 
 father's grass for many seasons, and had watched 
 her grow up from a tiny baby. In the meantime 
 Mrs. Grayson had gone to the kitchen to see about 
 ordering some refreshment for them, and when they 
 had quenched their thirst on the huge cans of tea 
 which she sent out, and satisfied their hunger on 
 the bread and cheese, they were glad to have a 
 wash at the pump, and stretch themselves upon the 
 hay in the loft where they were to pass the night. 
 Long before the shadows fell they were sleeping
 
 44 HAYMAKING BEGINS. 
 
 the sleep of exhausted nature, so as to be up and 
 at work with the first peep of day. 
 
 The sun was not yet down when another man 
 came up the yard. 
 
 Miriam was just returning from the garden, 
 where she had been gathering gooseberries for 
 preserving, and she stopped against the kitchen 
 door to look at him. He was very lame and 
 footsore, but he touched his hat and hobbled 
 quickly forward on seeing Miriam. " Beg pardon, 
 missie," said he ; " is the genelman a-goin' to cut 
 his hay ? " 
 
 " They are going to begin to-morrow," replied 
 Miriam, who had retreated a step or two inside. 
 " But papa has got all the men he wants." 
 
 The man slowly took the scythe down off his 
 shoulder, and rested the handle on the ground, so 
 that he could support his weight on it ; then he 
 lifted one foot stiffly on to the doorstep, and pushed 
 his hat back on his forehead. 
 
 " Maybe he could do with another hand, missie," 
 pleaded he, " to get his grass up quick. It's a long 
 spell of fine weather we've been havin', and it's been 
 powerful hot to-day. Might come a storm afore he 
 got it carried, and spoil it all. Maybe you'd ask 
 him, missie." 
 
 Miriam didn't altogether like the look of the 
 man. She misinterpreted the traces of fatigue and
 
 HAYMAKING BEGINS. 45 
 
 poverty. " 1 can ask," said she ; " but I know it's 
 of no use." 
 
 " You see, sir," the man said, when Mr. Grayson 
 came out, which he did pretty quickly on hearing 
 that Miriam had left a rough-looking stranger 
 waiting at the unguarded door " you see, sir, I've 
 tramped from Lunnon every single step to-day, 
 and I ha'n't got a penny about me ; and unless so 
 be as I get work to-night I don't know what I'm to 
 do ; and I'm that footsore I can hardly get along." 
 
 But to give him work was out of Mr. Grayson's 
 power, for he had already fully as many hands 
 as his field would require, and he told the poor 
 fellow so. 
 
 " However," he added kindly, " you can at any 
 rate sit down on the bench yonder and have a rest 
 and a meal, to carry you on your way a bit." And 
 he at once went indoors to find his wife. Mean- 
 while the poor wayworn man had reached the 
 bench, and leaned his back against the wall. 
 
 "Ah, what a blessed thing rest is ! " exclaimed he, 
 stretching his legs out before him as Mr. Grayson 
 disappeared. " That genelman's a Christian, if there 
 is one to be found ; and there ain't many like him. 
 The most on 'em just gives you your answer, and 
 off you must go starve or die ! " 
 
 An hour later, by Mr. Grayson's advice, he stood 
 outside Mr. Rivers's back door, and shortly after-
 
 46 HAYMAKING BEGINS. 
 
 wards he was tasting the delight of a clean straw 
 bed in an outhouse in the s^flole-yard rolling him- 
 self up for a good night's sleep, in the happy pros- 
 pect of several days' work and corresponding pay. 
 
 Katie was surprised, on waking next morning, to 
 hear the " slish, slish " of the scythes in the grass, 
 and the ring of the whetstone on the blade. 
 
 " I do believe it's our field, too," said she, putting 
 her tangled mane round Tom's door, after trying 
 repeatedly to rouse him from the outside. " You 
 just hark ! " 
 
 Tom sprang up, sitting in his bed. " You're not 
 up, Kit, are you?" exclaimed he, digging his knuckles 
 into his eyes to get them open. 
 
 Katie shook her head, which was certainly a 
 degree rougher than it would be after the applica- 
 tion of a brush and comb. "I shan't be long, 
 though." said she. " Make haste, Tom ; I'm cer- 
 tain it's our field." And gently pulling Tom's 
 door to, away she pattered with her bare pink feet. 
 
 A short time after, the two crept downstairs, 
 undid the bolts, and slipping out into the fresh 
 morning air, sped down the field way, and away to 
 the meadow. 
 
 Yes, Katie was quite right. The man had been at 
 work an hour already. There was a good broad strip 
 mown. " And papa never told us !" exclaimed Katie. 
 
 The man was just straightening himself up to
 
 HAYMAKING BEGINS. 47 
 
 whet his scythe. Seeing Tom and Katie, he put a 
 forefinger up to the brim of his hat, and wished 
 them a civil good-morning. 
 
 " We didn't know you were coming," said Tom, 
 stepping across the new-cut grass with his hands 
 in his pockets. 
 
 " Nor I nuther, sir, till after you was in bed, I 
 reckon," returned the man ; and he related how he 
 had been sent on by Mr. Grayson to try his luck at 
 getting work there. 
 
 Tom asked where he came from, and was told 
 " Lunnon." 
 
 " Have you been in Lunnon, sir?" asked the man. 
 
 Tom replied that he had once or twice. 
 
 " It's a big place, if you was to set out to walk 
 from one end of it to t'other," continued the man ; 
 " but when you come to tramp right out here my 
 word, it's a stiffish job." 
 
 "What part do you live in?" asked Tom. 
 
 " In what they call Bermondsey, sir," replied the 
 man. " It ain't a nice part, specially the court 
 what we live in close and dirty, like. Now 
 this " and as he looked round about him his soul 
 seemed to drink its fill of the loveliness the ver- 
 dure and the sunshine, and the sweetness of the 
 summer morning. " This is beautiful," he went on. 
 " I tell you what. I said my prayers this morning, 
 when I come out o' that 'ere shed, for the first time
 
 48 HAYMAKING BEGINS. 
 
 this many a day not on my knees, like ; I couldn't 
 wait for that. I ses, ses I, ' O God, this 'ere's a 
 beautiful world to 'a' made ! and Lord send my 
 little Tab may come to see it one o' these days;' 
 and I belie\ 7 e he will." 
 
 The man was going on whetting his scythe ; but 
 Katie, who until then had been standing on the 
 pathway near the hedge, now picked her way across 
 the grass, regardless of the dew. " Who is Tab ? " 
 asked she, looking up in his face. 
 
 " Tab's the eldest o' my two children, little miss," 
 replied the man, with his eyes still on his blade 
 though ; and Katie thought she saw the glisten of 
 something like tears in them. 
 
 " Poor little Tab ! turned twelve she is, this 
 month, miss, and you wouldn't think she was more 
 than eight." 
 
 " Is she ill ? " asked Katie next. 
 
 '' Deformed," the man replied. " A drunken 
 woman dropped her when she were a little mite 
 not rnore'n two days old ; and that's what come of 
 it. It hurt the spine, you see, and she grew hump- 
 backed. But with as sweet a face as any angel in 
 a pictur', miss," he went on, as Katie, hardly know- 
 ing what to say to such a grievous tale, stood silent, 
 looking on the grass. 
 
 " And she's never seen the country, I suppose ? " 
 said Katie, looking up again.
 
 HAYMAKING BEGINS. 49 
 
 Tab's father shook his head. " Never been out- 
 side the court where she first saw daylight, miss," 
 answered he " such daylight as it is. And there 
 she sets and works all day up in our little garret 
 along o' Zillah that's the other one, miss ; and 
 which o' those two works the hardest 'd puzzle any 
 one to say." 
 
 Katie inquired what they worked at. 
 
 The man replied, " At mending dolls. Zill buys 
 'em cheap from ragmen and the like, and then they 
 mend their clothes and titiwate 'em up for me to 
 wheel out on my barrow for to sell." 
 
 Katie's interest was thoroughly awakened. She 
 asked a lot of questions about this dollies' hospital. 
 The occupation by which Tab and Zillah earned 
 their bread was a branch of industry that she had 
 never heard of. 
 
 " But I must get on with my work afore the sun 
 gets high," Tab's father said, with a look round at 
 the eastern sky ; " the dew's a-dryin' up a'ready ; " 
 and he fell to work again. 
 
 Tom and Katie watched awhile, then they walked 
 away. Tom cleaned and fed his rabbits, while 
 Katie raked and watered her garden bed. But 
 everywhere the distant " slish, slish " of the 
 mower's scythe followed them with its strange 
 fascination, and they could not keep away from 
 the field. 
 
 (254) 4
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 KATIE'S SCHEME. 
 
 " r I "OM ! " said Katie, as the two children went 
 upstairs that evening after having their 
 supper of plain seed-cake and new milk "Tom, do 
 look at Tab's father." 
 
 Katie's head was out of the casement, and Tab's 
 father, hearing her voice, looked up. 
 
 He was seated on the chopping-stool, where he 
 had eaten his supper after coming up from the field. 
 Katie nodded, and called " Good-night ; " and the 
 man, touching his hat respectfully, got up and 
 moved off towards the shed for his night's rest. 
 " He was looking so happy ! " exclaimed Katie, as 
 Tom came and leaned on the sill beside her. 
 
 " I expect he was jolly hungry for his supper," 
 remarked he. 
 
 " I wonder if he was saying his prayers again ? " 
 said Katie thoughtfully, remembering what Tab's 
 father had said that morning. 
 
 " It's a rum fashion of doing it, if he was," ob-
 
 KATIE'S SCHEME. 51 
 
 served Tom, " staring at the sky, with his big knife 
 in his hand and his mouth full." 
 
 To Tom's mind kneeling made up a good deal 
 of the Tightness of prayers ; yet probably the un- 
 spoken thankfulness of this poor man, who believed 
 that it was God who had directed him to this job 
 of work and sent him his good meal as he cares 
 for the sparrows was far more well-pleasing in the 
 heavenly Father's sight than many a form of words 
 which educated Christians gabble over, night and 
 morning, on their knees. 
 
 Katie had an inkling of this truth. " He was 
 looking right out there," said she, pointing where 
 the setting sun had left a bright gold band along the 
 horizon. " It made him think of heaven, I believe ; 
 and very likely he was wishing Tab could see it too." 
 
 Tom said, "Perhaps," and a few minutes later 
 they went to their rooms ; but long after Tom was 
 sound asleep, Katie lay awake maturing a plan that 
 had come into her head whilst she knelt beside her 
 bed. Katie heard ten o'clock strike that night 
 a very unusual thing for her to do. 
 
 The consequence was that Tom roused first next 
 morning, and Katie had a scramble to get dressed 
 before he went downstairs. 
 
 " Tom ! " cried she, hurrying after him as he set 
 off running towards the field, " do stop a bit ; I've 
 got a plan."
 
 52 KATIE'S SCHEME. 
 
 The plan was this : it had struck Katie that she 
 and Toni might do what boys and girls in other 
 towns and villages were doing start a fresh-air 
 mission at their own expense, and give poor Tab and 
 Zillah two or three weeks' outing in the country. 
 " They would enjoy it so," said she. 
 
 Tom stopped short and thrust his stick into the 
 hedge a way he had when he couldn't quite see 
 to the bottom of anything. "That's just like a 
 girl's idea," objected he ; " you don't consider what 
 it would cost ! " 
 
 Katie inquired how much he thought, and Tom 
 replied with the important monosyllable, " Gold." 
 But Katie was not dismayed. 
 
 " I thought of asking all the girls at school to 
 help all except Miriam, of course ; it's of no use 
 asking her. She spent her half-sovereign on that 
 gold locket she's so proud of, and she never gives 
 away a penny. But if all the rest gave ever so 
 little, we could manage it." 
 
 The scheme took with the girls beyond Katie's 
 fondest expectations ; and although, on admitting 
 Mrs. Rivers to their confidence, it was found that 
 more money would be required than even Tom had 
 supposed, contributions poured in so readily that 
 before the hay was carried a sufficient sum was 
 already in hand. 
 
 " Miriam will be wild when she hears what
 
 KATIE'S SCHEME. 53 
 
 we've done," observed Tom, who of course was 
 present at the committee meeting. The girls had 
 all come up to the hay-making, and had tea out in 
 the orchard. " But she doesn't deserve to know 
 nasty, proud young minx ! " 
 
 "And what's more," added another, "we don't 
 mean her to." 
 
 " You see," said Katie, who didn't feel quite 
 comfortable about Miriam's being out of it, "we can't 
 ask her, for she won't give us a chance." For 
 Miriam never spoke to Katie now. 
 
 " Oh ! let her go on putting all her money in the 
 savings-bank to buy jewellery with," sneered Tom. 
 " We've got enough without her." 
 
 It was a good deal later than usual that night 
 when Tom and Katie went upstairs to bed. They 
 had ridden up from the field on the last load of hay, 
 and accompanied their little friends down the lane 
 as far as the plantation ; and now the great, broad 
 moon was shining full in at the casement on the 
 staircase. 
 
 Katie stopped a moment to look out. " There 
 goes Tab's father," said she. He was just going oft' 
 to his bed in the out-house. " He's tired, / know," 
 added Katie. " But didn't he just look glad when 
 we told him about our scheme; and how pleased the 
 girls all were with him ! " 
 
 Tom nodded. " Say, Kit," said he, " it was just
 
 54 KATIE'S SCHEME. 
 
 like a girl to hit on such a scheme. Boys never 
 seem to think of doing other people good." 
 
 " Girls can't be ' knight-er rants' anyhow," said 
 Katie, who always wanted to find something to say 
 for everybody. " I don't see, though, why boys 
 shouldn't -think of making other people happy." 
 
 " Tell you what, Kit," said Tom suddenly, taking 
 his elbows off the sill " I mean to ask the boys at 
 our school to contribute."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 TOM IS IN TOO MUCH OF A HURRY. 
 
 THE summer holidays began on the twenty- 
 eighth of July. That day being also Miriam's 
 birthday, she invited her two special friends round 
 to a little picnic tea in the plantation. Great fun 
 they had, too, for they packed their own basket, 
 and wheeled it there on Miriam's garden barrow ; 
 they boiled their own kettle on a tripod over a fire 
 of sticks which they had a great deal of trouble in 
 lighting ; and finally, they made their own tea and 
 spread their own feast, and sat down on the grass 
 to enjoy it. 
 
 Of course Katie was not invited. That was not 
 to be expected, although in times past she had 
 always been asked to Miriam's birthday picnics. 
 But Katie's thoughts were otherwise occupied that 
 glorious summer afternoon. The picnic party had 
 just settled themselves to their fancy, when a sound 
 of wheels and voices was heard along the road. 
 
 " Do let's run and look," cried restless little Terry
 
 56 TOM IS IN TOO MUCH OF A HURRY. 
 
 Grainger, the younger of the two friends, jumping 
 up all in a hurry, and then glancing back at the 
 feast, half doubtful about leaving it unless the 
 others came too. 
 
 " No, don't let's," contradicted Madge Tewson, 
 who was noted for wanting to fall to work when- 
 ever there was anything nice to be eaten. " We 
 shall find our tea full of flies and spiders when we 
 come back." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried Miriam, who being hostess 
 had the casting vote ; and off she ran with Terry, 
 leaving Madge to please herself about following. 
 
 " Well, I do declare ! " exclaimed Miriam, tiptoe- 
 ing to get her head above the palings. 
 
 Terry was at a disadvantage, not being so tall. 
 " What is it, Mirry ? " asked she eagerly, as she 
 searched about for something to clamber on; "do tell!" 
 
 " The queerest caravan you ever saw ! " replied 
 Miriam. " The oddest little object in the shabbiest 
 old bath-chair, with Tom and Katie pushing behind, 
 and a common girl in her great-grandmother's clothes 
 walking like a lady at the side." 
 
 Terry had surmounted her difficulties by this 
 time, and even Madge Tewson, catching Miriam's 
 words, had left the spread and joined them. 
 
 "Well, I do declare!" echoed Madge. "What 
 next, I wonder ? What on earth are Tom and Katie 
 Rivers about ? "
 
 TOM IS IN TOO MUCH OF A HURRY. 57 
 
 The plain fact of the matter was this : Katie's 
 scheme had actually come to pass, and she and Tom 
 had been to the station to meet their visitors and 
 fetch them home. 
 
 Miriam was quite right. It was an odd-looking 
 cavalcade. The bath-chair was an old one in which 
 Mrs. Rivers's mother had ridden in and out to take 
 the air, and since the day when her need of it had 
 ceased, it had been Tom and Katie's chariot in the 
 garden. Small wonder if it looked shabby. 
 
 In this chariot, however, sat Tab, supremely 
 happy, and altogether unmindful that the leather 
 was worn or the varnish scraped. To her the 
 stuffed cushions, hard as they had grown with use, 
 were luxury itself, and to ride was a queenly 
 thing. All Tab knew was that she was actually in 
 that unhoped-for paradise of loveliness and peace, 
 the country; and that it far surpassed her brightest 
 coloured dreams for Tab had dreamt night and 
 day of it ever since she first heard she was to go. 
 There she sat, speechless with timidity and happi- 
 ness, her little bundle resting on her thin, scantily- 
 covered knees, and her hands tightly clasped upon 
 it, in wonder and admiration. As for the rest, she 
 was, to use Miriam's expression, " the oddest little 
 creature " with her deformed, stunted body, and her 
 big head, surmounted by its fantastic hat the first 
 she had ever worn a sample of her own millinery,
 
 58 TOM IS IN TOO MUCH OF A HURRY. 
 
 rigged up out of odd scraps from her second-hand 
 dollies' finery. 
 
 Meanwhile by the side walked Zillah, " like a 
 lady," not even carrying her own bundle, which had 
 considerately been tucked away on the foot of the 
 chair, so that her hands might be free to hold the 
 wild flowers which London children often find it so 
 difficult to realize are theirs to gather. But Zillah 
 was not like poor little shy, misshapen Tab, who 
 never saw a face, year in, year out, except Zillah's 
 and her father's. She was sharp and quick, used 
 to pushing her way about and bargaining with the 
 second-hand venders, of whom she bought her stock- 
 in-trade ; and her delight, unlike Tab's, showed 
 itself in excited chatter. 
 
 " Why, I know ! " cried Terry Grainger : " that's 
 what we overheard the girls talking about the day 
 after Katie's hay-making party, you remember 
 about the city slum children." 
 
 "And they've actually fetched them here to make 
 the country nasty too!" exclaimed Madge. "We 
 shall have a fever breaking out in the place." 
 
 " I never thought they would actually do it," said 
 Miriam, in a tone of contempt that seemed to betray 
 a little annoyance at being out of it. " Fancy push- 
 ing them through the open streets too ! I wonder, 
 will Katie have them to sleep in her room ? " she 
 added ironically.
 
 TOM IS IN TOO MUCH OF A HURRY. 59 
 
 " Oh no," replied Terry, who was rather apt to 
 take Miriam's sarcasms seriously ; " they're to lodge 
 at Mrs. Bull's. I heard Tiny Radford say so." 
 
 " Oh my ! " cried Miriam ; " what fun Dick Bull 
 will make of that odd little creature's hump ! " 
 
 The bath-chair was almost close under the fence 
 just as Miriam said this, and Katie heard, if Tab 
 did not she hoped Tab did not hear. But Zillah's 
 sharp ears had caught the words, and she had seen 
 the jeering face that was peeping over the fence. 
 She looked round at Katie with flushed cheeks. It 
 had never struck her how much her poor afflicted 
 sister might have to endure in exchange for her 
 release from the imprisonment of that out-of-the- 
 way garret where her deformity was hidden away. 
 
 Meanwhile Miriam had given the signal to return 
 to the feast. " We shall have the rattlesnakes steal- 
 ing our cakes, girls," said she, in a tone meant for 
 the bath-chair party to hear ; but the words had no 
 sooner left her lips than she uttered a piercing 
 scream of terror. In stepping back from the fence 
 she had all but placed her foot upon an adder, and 
 the creature was rearing up its head and hissing 
 spitefully, just about to strike. 
 
 " Help, help ! " screamed she. " It's going to kill 
 me ! " And Madge and Terry, joining in the scream, 
 cried " Help, help ! " too. 
 
 Tom heard their screams, and thought at first
 
 60 TOM IS IN TOO MUCH OF A HURRY. 
 
 they were pretending ; but it soon became apparent 
 that there was no make-belief about the matter, 
 and letting go the handle of the bath-chair, Tom 
 dashed across the road. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " shouted he, as he sprang 
 up the bank. Then seeing the enraged viper, he 
 cleared the fence, and seizing a stout piece of wood 
 which fortunately lay to hand, he aimed a desperate 
 blow at the creature's backbone. 
 
 " Well done ! " cried Tom triumphantly, repeating 
 the blows with vigour to make sure of his work. 
 
 Miriam began to stammer out some thanks ; but 
 somehow Tom felt in no mood to listen to them 
 after the rude manner in which she had spoken of 
 poor Tab. 
 
 " I should advise you to clear out of here," said he, 
 cutting her short and hurrying back to the fence. 
 
 But Tom, like the rest of us, was apt to make 
 mistakes. He was in too much of a hurry, for he 
 was not giving Miriam a fair chance ; and he pun- 
 ished himself. In dashing over the fence he lost 
 his balance and n"alf fell ; and his foot, finding no 
 hold on the slippery grass bank, slipped down, 
 throwing him forward on his face, and twisting his 
 ankle terribly. 
 
 Tom had hard work not to cry out. He was 
 obliged to sit down by the roadside to bear the pain. 
 " The thing is," he said, " how I'm to get home."
 
 TOM IS IN TOO MUCH OF A HURRY. 61 
 
 Katie looked very serious. " It isn't far" sug- 
 gested she hopefully. 
 
 " Too far to walk," said Tom pretty positively, 
 screwing up his face with the pain, which was 
 rapidly getting worse. " It's all that horrid Miriam's 
 fault. I said I'd never help her again ; but I for- 
 got when I heard her scream. I wish I hadn't." 
 
 Ah, Tom ! better far be governed by your gener- 
 ous impulses. Second thoughts are not quite always 
 best, for they are often far more selfish. So Katie 
 thought. 
 
 " O Tom ! " she cried : " it wasn't Miriam's fault ; 
 and she'd be ever so sorry if she knew how you're 
 hurt." 
 
 But Miriam was in entire ignorance of what had 
 happened. Too much frightened to enjoy them- 
 selves any longer in the plantation, she and her 
 friends had hurried off to remove their feast to the 
 safer though more commonplace garden grass-plot. 
 
 Meanwhile it was hardly a suitable time to choose 
 for discussing Miriam's disagreeable temper while 
 Tom was in such pain. The most important con- 
 sideration was how to get him home. After due 
 conference the following plan was hit upon. Tab 
 was to get out of the chair and sit by the roadside 
 with Zillah, whilst Katie helped Tom in and wheeled 
 him home; after which she would return at once and 
 take Tab on to her destination.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 STRANDED HIGH AND DRY. 
 
 TAB and Zillah felt rather like fishes out of 
 water, stranded high and dry upon their 
 wayside bank, as Katie and the bath-chair disap- 
 peared round the turn of the road. Katie had 
 started off at a brisk pace, promising not to be 
 longer gone than she could possibly help ; but the 
 minutes seemed like hours. 
 
 Both children were very quiet at first. Tab 
 looked about in a timid, constrained sort of way, 
 wondering at the surpassing loveliness of the cool 
 green canopy overhead, and the shadows of the trees 
 upon the sunlit stretch of meadow-land beyond, and 
 the blueness of the sky ; listening to the twittering 
 of the birds, and the distant sheep-bells, and the 
 lowing of some patient cows in Mr. Grayson's yard, 
 where they were waiting to be milked sounds so 
 different to those that reached her in the garret she 
 called home. There she only heard the far-off, 
 restless roar of traffic in the streets, and when that
 
 STRANDED HIGH AND DRY. 63 
 
 hushed to rest, the striking of the clocks that told ' 
 her how the sleepless hours went. But here the 
 very leaves seemed singing out for joy, and every 
 happy insect in the air had music in its wings. 
 This was the country, the beautiful country from 
 which her father had returned each hay-making 
 season she could remember, with money to pay for 
 the things they owed, and perhaps to lay by for the 
 rainy days twice or thrice as much as the three of 
 them could have earned in the time at home, where 
 all the people round were starved for want of work. 
 She had often tried to picture it, holding the money 
 in her wasted hand, and listening to his talk about 
 the fields and lanes where he had earned it ; and 
 one time he had even brought a coloured print to 
 give her some idea of what " the country " was. 
 But what was money and what was coloured print 
 to all that her eyes saw now ? It seemed like 
 heaven itself. It took away her powers of speech. 
 Zillah, on the contrary, was silent because she 
 dared not speak. She was used to jostling through 
 the busy streets, and in this country lane there was 
 not a single soul in sight. Something in the still- 
 ness almost frightened her. She looked nervously 
 from side to side; saw flowers that, she longed to 
 pick, but dared not stir to reach them ; noticed 
 sparrows flitting in and out the boughs, just like 
 the same brown birds that perched about the sooty
 
 64 STRANDED HIGH AND DRY. 
 
 London chimney-pots at home ; half wondered if 
 they really were the very same, and whether they 
 had followed Tab and her upon their holiday, but 
 dared not tell her thoughts to Tab, for very fear of 
 hearing her own voice. And so they sat, these two 
 poor garret children on the grassy bank, waiting for 
 Katie's return. 
 
 About ten minutes had passed in this manner, 
 and Zillah's lively tongue was just on the point of 
 breaking restraint, when who should come in sight 
 but Dick Bull, driving his step-brother before him 
 with a pair of reins. The sight of a live being un- 
 loosed Zillah's tongue at once. 
 
 " Look, Tab ! " cried she, nudging her sister's 
 elbow ; but poor little Tab only shrank back behind 
 her with a frightened look. She was unused to 
 seeing and being seen. 
 
 Dick, intent upon his step-brother, did not per- 
 ceive the two strange figures on the bank until he 
 got right opposite. Then he pulled up short with 
 the abrupt exclamation, " Hullo ! who are you ? " 
 
 Dick wouldn't have looked very terrible as one 
 in a throng of people such as Zillah was accustomed 
 to ; but here, in this lonely lane, and face to face, 
 he put the poor child's courage all to flight. She 
 turned an appealing glance on her poor little elder 
 sister. 
 
 Tab's white face had flushed crimson, not so much
 
 STRANDED HIGH AND DRY. 65 
 
 with fear as because she was so entirely unused to 
 seeing strangers. Before she could find an answer, 
 Dick had snacked his reins and driven his horse up 
 closer. 
 
 " Where in the world did you drop down from ? " 
 asked he. 
 
 " London," answered Tab, growing pale again. 
 
 " Might as well 'a' stopped there, for all I can 
 see," said Dick rudely. " I should like to know 
 what you came for." 
 
 " Because a lady wrote and asked us," said Tab. 
 " We're to stay at a cottage somewhere here. Ah, 
 it's so beautiful ! " added Tab, half to herself. 
 
 " Beautiful, is it ? " ejaculated Dick. " I tell you 
 what, though I believe you're the very gals what 
 my mother's going to take in. Blest if I think 
 she'd 'a' had you if she'd 'a' knowed what you was 
 like. You're a rum-looking gal, you are ! " 
 
 Tab coloured painfully. " I can't help it," said 
 she simply. 
 
 " Didn't say you could," said Dick. " I say, 
 though, that other one looks as if she'd make a 
 smarter horse than this 'ere ; " and Dick gave his 
 reins a twitch that made his step-brother cry out, 
 and rub his arm where the cord was tied. 
 
 " Who is he ? " asked Tab, interested in the poor 
 little fellow, on account of his miserable appearance. 
 
 " He's my horse," replied Dick, twitching the 
 
 (254) 5
 
 66 STRANDED HIGH AND DRY. 
 
 reins again. " He wants the whip pretty often, too. 
 His name's silly Tim ; and he ain't quite right." 
 
 " That's a pity," said Tab sorrowfully. She had 
 thought that in the country everybody must be 
 happy. 
 
 Dick didn't vouchsafe an answer to this remark, 
 for he was busy trying to unfasten the reins off 
 Tim's arms. 
 
 " We'll see what sort of a horse that one makes," 
 said he, nodding towards Zillah. " I'm going to 
 drive her home. I'll bet sJie can run." 
 
 The cord had slipped into a knot, however ; so 
 after some few ineffectual attempts at undoing it, 
 Dick got out his knife. But, fortunately for Zillah, 
 at this very moment Katie reappeared with the 
 bath-chair ; and Zillah, springing to her feet, ran 
 down the lane to meet her.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 WHEN Zillah made her sudden escape Dick 
 had shut his knife and gathered up Tim's 
 reins, with a loud " Get up ! " but he changed his 
 mind, and pulled Tim up again, and stood there op- 
 posite Tab, staring at her. 
 
 " That's your sister, ain't it ? " said he presently, 
 following Zillah with his eyes. 
 
 Tab answered, " Yes." 
 
 " She ain't much like you," said Dick. 
 
 " She's straight, and I'm not," said Tab. 
 
 " I like you best, though," observed Dick, " straight 
 or crooked. She runs away, and you don't." 
 
 " I can't" returned Tab gravely. Else perhaps 
 she would have. 
 
 But by this time Katie had regained them with 
 the bath-chair. Dick noticed that Zillah kept on 
 the other side of the chair whilst Tab was being 
 helped in, and he reflected, with satisfaction, that 
 when she was at his mother's it would not always
 
 68 IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 be possible to keep out of his hands so easily. Dick 
 had made up his mind that he meant to have his 
 pennyworth of fun out of Zillah. As soon as the 
 others moved on he gave Tim the reins and moved 
 on too, following slowly at a distance of a few 
 paces. 
 
 Katie pointed up the drive as they passed the 
 gate. " That's where our home is," said she, " but 
 there's a good half-mile to go yet to where you are 
 to stay." 
 
 Dick sprang forward. " I'll wheel 'em up for 
 you, miss," said he, "and bring the chair back 
 too." 
 
 There was something particularly obliging in the 
 tone of Dick's voice ; but Katie had no intention of 
 yielding up her protegees to his tender mercies. She 
 thanked him, and declined. 
 
 " It'll tire yon awfully," Dick declared ; " you 
 ain't so strong as me, and it's all uphill after we get 
 to the bottom here." But Katie still declined. 
 
 " Let me push, anyhow," begged Dick, anxious to 
 get the matter into his own hand somehow or other. 
 " Here !" added he, thrusting Tim's reins into Zillah's 
 hands ; " you drive him" Then laying hold of the 
 chair, he commenced pushing so vigorously that it 
 seemed to go like a feather. 
 
 Katie gave in, for, truth to tell, she was rather 
 glad of the relief. She had hurried up the hill, and
 
 IN THE COUNTRY. 69 
 
 was a wee bit tired. But Dick pushed so fast that 
 it didn't make things much better. When Katie 
 remonstrated he only grinned, and said he "guessed 
 they wanted their tea by now ; and she wasn't 
 bound to come with 'em except to please herself. 
 He'd take 'em home all right enough." Katie viewed 
 the matter differently, however, feeling bound to 
 see them safely into Mrs. Bull's hands. 
 
 Meanwhile poor Tim was enjoying the novelty of 
 a new hand on his reins. Zillah drove more gently, 
 and was beginning to enter into the fun, as her 
 strangeness wore off, " tchek-tch eking " to make him 
 go. So Tim trotted briskly along by Tab's side, 
 with his great unmeaning eyes fixed on her face, and 
 a silly smile playing about his mouth. And Tab 
 whose kind heart had warmed to the poor half- 
 witted boy because, like herself, he was different to 
 other people nodded pleasantly from time to time, 
 and gave him back his smiles. In this way they 
 arrived at Mrs. Bull's, where Katie, after intro- 
 ducing them to their temporary guardian, left them, 
 and made the best of her way home to Tom. 
 
 Dick was right for once. Tab and Zillah did 
 "want their tea;" and encouraged by kind Mrs. 
 Bull's motherly care, a right good meal they made 
 of it. Moreover, Tom and Katie's generosity had 
 provided that this first " country " tea should be an 
 extra tempting and substantial one ; and for the
 
 70 IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 first time in their lives they tasted new-laid eggs 
 and green-gage jam and sweet dough cake. 
 
 Then their room, too such a pretty little room ! 
 Its lattice window neatly curtained with white and 
 clustered with sweet honeysuckle and the "seven 
 sisters " rose. Its clean blue-patterned paper, too, 
 hung with picture texts, and its bright-coloured 
 bedside carpets in red and green squares. And the 
 bed itself, so fresh and sweet and clean. Tab and 
 Zillah had never in their lives seen anything like it 
 before. How they slept that night, and how rested 
 and refreshed they awoke, with the morning sun- 
 light shining on their blind ! It all seemed like 
 one long, delightful dream, too lovely to be true. 
 
 Tom, on the contrary, hardly got a wink of sleep, 
 his ankle was in such dreadful pain; and worse 
 than that, his mind was very ill at ease, for he kept 
 on wilfully blaming Miriam for what he knew to be 
 no fault of hers grudging the noble service that 
 his chivalry had prompted him to do her. 
 
 Tom's chivalry was very far from perfect at 
 present. He had yet to learn to serve friend and 
 foe alike with willing love, as Christ his Master 
 did upon the cross. But Tom didn't look at his 
 knight-errantry in that light. He had meant never 
 to help Miriam again since that day down by the 
 pond, when she had refused his help so disagreeably ; 
 and then, after all, when his better self had for-
 
 IN THE COUNTRY. 71 
 
 gotten that unchristian resolution in the impulse of 
 the moment, he had not only spoilt his heroic action 
 by refusing to listen to her thanks, and thus robbed 
 Miriam of -her chance of regaining her place in his 
 and Katie's friendship, but had also, hi his foolish 
 hate, brought about his own punishment in the 
 shape of all this suffering. But Tom only thought 
 of Miriam's hateful temper, and wished he had let 
 the adder sting her. " It would have served her 
 right to lose her leg," said he to himself, "and I'll 
 never, never help her out of a difficulty again." 
 
 Tom didn't say his prayers that night. He 
 didn't want to ; and it didn't seem like going to 
 bed when night came, because he had been there 
 ever since half -past five. Besides, he fancied that 
 he couldn't say them with that constant throb in his 
 ankle ; so he didn't try. But Terry Grainger did, 
 and added, " Bless Tom Rivers for jumping over 
 the fence to kill the adder for us ; " and God heard 
 that little prayer, all in his own good time, and 
 answered it, though not perhaps exactly in the way 
 Torn would have chosen.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ALWAYS AFTER MISCHIEF. 
 
 KATIE walked over to Mrs. Bull's cottage next 
 morning to see how Tab and Zillah were 
 getting on, and also to take a little basket of goose- 
 berries which she and Tom had been saving up on 
 their own bushes for Tab and Zillah's special treat. 
 Mrs. Bull was only paid, of course, to provide them 
 with a bed and such plain fare as she would have 
 given to her own two boys ; but Tom and Katie 
 wanted their guests to have a real good time, so 
 they intended carrying them some little dainty 
 every day. All this made it very vexing for Tom 
 that he could not get about. But that was not to 
 be thought of ; so Katie set out alone, promising to 
 be sure and explain that the yellow ones were off 
 Tom's tree, and the red ones off her own which 
 was the best she could do towards mending matters. 
 Katie found Tab sitting on an old three-legged 
 stool in the porch, with her lap full of flowers. 
 Silly Tirn had gathered them and brought them to
 
 ALWAYS AFTER MISCHIEF. 73 
 
 her one by one. Dick had gone to carry home some 
 mangling for his mother, and Tim was enjoying 
 himself. He had taken quite a violent fancy to 
 Tab. Something in her timid, gentle manner at- 
 tracted the poor boy, who was so used to being 
 hustled and driven. 
 
 Zillah, with the tabby kitten on her shoulder, 
 was wandering up and down the narrow cinder-ash 
 paths between the garden beds, wondering at the 
 butterflies that country children take so little notice 
 of. This tabby kitten was almost the only familiar 
 object Zillah had come across; and it seemed to 
 know that it had found a friend in her. 
 
 After talking to Tab for a few minutes, Katie 
 went to fetch Zillah to the porch, and brought out 
 her gooseberries, which she emptied into their laps, 
 so that she might take her basket home. She had 
 not long closed the garden gate when Dick returned 
 with the empty clothes-basket. 
 
 " Hullo ! " exclaimed he. " Gooseberries ! " 
 
 " The young lady brought them," explained Zillah, 
 who had quite recovered the use of her tongue since 
 her night's rest. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Dick. 
 
 " Won't you have some ? " said Tab, timidly 
 scooping up a handful out of her lap from among 
 the flowers, and offering them to him. 
 
 Dick took them without scruple.
 
 74 ALWAYS AFTER MISCHIEF. 
 
 Presently Tim appeared round the corner of the 
 house with a head of crimson sweet-william in his 
 hand. Seeing Dick, he was drawing back out of 
 sight; but Tab beckoned him. "I've got some 
 gooseberries, Tim," cried she ; " come and have 
 some." 
 
 Tim still hesitated. But Tab still beckoned him 
 with her shy, winning smile, holding out a fine red 
 gooseberry the finest she could see. Such an in- 
 vitation was not to be refused. Tim came slowly 
 forward, laid the flower on her lap with the rest, 
 and took the gooseberry, which he put straight to 
 his mouth. But that unlucky sweet-william had 
 opened Dick's eyes. Seeing flowers in Tab's lap 
 along with Katie's gooseberries, Dick had jumped 
 to the conclusion that Katie had brought them 
 too. 
 
 He guessed now where his mistake was. 
 
 " Who picked those flowers ? " asked he roughly. 
 
 Tim shrank and cowered. He had only thought 
 about giving Tab pleasure, because he liked her ; 
 but the tone of Dick's voice told him pretty sharply 
 that he had done wrong. Poor Tim was always 
 doing things like that forgetting, out of sheer 
 silliness, poor idiot that he was ! 
 
 " Always after mischief ! " cried Dick, cramming 
 the gooseberries into his mouth two at a time, and 
 holding out his hand for more.
 
 ALWAYS AFTER MISCHIEF. 75 
 
 " What business have you picking the flowers ? 
 I'll teach you 
 
 But Dick held out his hand in vain, for Tab had 
 only three or four left, and Tim was to have those, 
 she said. 
 
 " What ! " cried Dick, " when he's been and got in 
 mischief ? Look here ! Runners, and peas, and all ! 
 I'll teach him ! " And Dick made such a terrible 
 gesture that Tim fled for his life round the corner. 
 
 " He kept on bringing them to me," said Tab. 
 " I didn't know he'd no business to. The young 
 lady said we might pick any flowers we liked." 
 
 " Out of doors," said Dick by which he meant 
 in the hedges and ditches ; " not in people's gardens, 
 and he knows that well enough. Runners, and 
 peas, and all ! " repeated Dick indignantly ; " the 
 young varmint ! " 
 
 " Runners and peas ? " asked Zillah. " Which are 
 they ? " 
 
 Dick selected a specimen of each. 
 
 " They're good to eat," said he, " and he's been 
 and picked 'em." 
 
 " Flowers good to eat ! " Tab was surprised. 
 
 " Not the flowers, but the peas and beans," Zillah 
 corrected her. Zillah had seen them on the coster- 
 mongers' barrows, though she didn't know until 
 then, any more than Tab did, that they grew from 
 pretty flowers.
 
 76 ALWAYS AFTER MISCHIEF. 
 
 " You ha'n't picked any, I s'pose ? " said Dick in 
 a threatening tone, turning on Zillah. " You ha'n't 
 given me any o' your gooseberries." 
 
 Zillah shook her head in answer to Dick's ques- 
 tion, and tendered up a tribute of her precious 
 fruit. She was naturally of a more greedy dispo- 
 sition than her sister, so it cost her a much keener 
 pang to part with her gooseberries than it had Tab ; 
 but she was rather afraid of Dick. 
 
 " I ha'n't picked one," said she. 
 
 " So much the better for you," remarked Dick, 
 as he munched the gooseberries. Then seeing that 
 Zillah had prudently placed the remaining few out 
 of reach of his covetousness by eating them herself, 
 he added, 
 
 " Now I'll go and teach Tim not to pick peas 
 and beans again." And off he strode. 
 
 Tab gathered the few remaining gooseberries up 
 out of her lap and put them in her pocket. Then 
 she got up off the three-legged stool and looked 
 uneasily at Zillah, and from Zillah towards the 
 direction in which Dick had gone. It was in her 
 mind to go and see what Dick was about to do to 
 poor Tim. But Tab was not very strong on her 
 legs, and she was so unused to walking abroad that 
 she hardly knew how to set about it. Somehow it 
 seemed so different to getting about the little garret 
 at home.
 
 ALWAYS AFTER MISCHIEF. 77 
 
 Zillah opened her eyes on seeing the gooseberries 
 disappear in Tab's pocket. " Ain't you going to 
 eat 'em ? " asked she. The child had a sort of idea 
 that if they were eaten at all she would get her 
 share, and that would partly make up for those she 
 had been obliged to give up to Dick. But Tab 
 shook her head. "I'm going to keep 'em for Tim," 
 said she ; so Zillah said no more about it. 
 
 " Where are you going, Tab ? " asked she next, 
 as Tab, after balancing herself a few moments, in 
 order to get used to the new position of standing, 
 stepped stiffly down on to the gravel. 
 
 " Going to look what Dick's after with Tim," was 
 the reply ; and Tab slowly made her way round the 
 corner of the house, and down the cinder path be- 
 tween the rows of peas and beans, from which the 
 unlucky flowers had been plucked. 
 
 " Never knew they growed like that afore," said 
 Zillah to herself, as she followed. How should she, 
 poor child ? 
 
 But nothing was to be seen of either Dick or 
 Tim, and Tab finally returned to the porch, very 
 tired with her search. In the garden hedge was a 
 gap through which Tim was in the habit of mak- 
 ing his escape when he had incurred his brother's 
 displeasure, and Dick had gone through after him.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A WHITE LIE. 
 
 MRS. GRAYSON had been rather surprised 
 to see the three children carting in their 
 picnic tea from the plantation. But in giving the 
 reason Miriam had not told the ivhole truth. She 
 knew quite well that if her mother heard how Tom 
 Rivers had come to the rescue, she would insist upon 
 his being properly thanked, and Miriam was in no 
 mood for humbling herself so far. She therefore 
 simply said that they had seen an adder in the grass, 
 and thought it wisest to come away at once a 
 piece of prudence which Mrs. Grayson heartily 
 commended. The adventure, however, rather upset 
 Miriam's enjoyment for the rest of the day, not only 
 by frightening her, but because, try as she would to 
 justify herself, conscience would not let her be quite 
 comfortable about the half-truth she had told. 
 
 To be sure, it was not a downright lie. It was 
 true they had come away because of the adder they 
 had seen ; but it was also true that Tom had risked
 
 A WHITE LIE. 79 
 
 himself for their sakes, and Miriam had an uncom- 
 fortable foreboding that some time or other, some how 
 or other, that other half of the truth would come 
 out. For truth is like a jack-in-the-box. The least 
 touch undoes the catch that keeps it hidden ; then 
 back flies the lid and up pops its head, and the 
 secret is out. 
 
 As it happened, it came out sooner than even 
 Miriam expected. 
 
 Great-uncle Merry always came down to see them 
 about this time, and as he could not come on Miriam's 
 birthday, he had written to fix the day after. 
 Miriam was a good deal excited about it. He had 
 sent her a lovely scrap-album, for which she wanted 
 to thank him ; she was also very anxious to show 
 off the gold locket which she had bought with his 
 half-sovereign, and to coax the old gentleman into 
 allowing her to take one of his silver ringlets to fix 
 inside the glass opposite his portrait. But by the 
 time Uncle Merry arrived a cloud had drifted up 
 into Miriam's sky. 
 
 Mrs. Grayson, walking up to the shops, to see if 
 she could procure some asparagus of which Uncle 
 Merry was particularly fond had met Tom and 
 Katie's mother, and learned the whole history of the 
 adventure with the adder. 
 
 After dinner Uncle Merry proposed a walk. 
 
 Mrs. Grayson always rested of an afternoon. Not
 
 8o A WHITE LIE. 
 
 being over strong, her morning's household duties 
 tired her. But Uncle Merry, despite his seventy 
 and odd years, was always ready for a stroll as soon 
 as he had smoked his pipe ; and he was quite con- 
 tent to see his niece comfortably settled on the couch 
 whilst Miriam accompanied him. 
 
 " Trust us for getting along all right together ; 
 hey, Mirry ? " said the old gentleman, reaching out 
 his hand to catch hers ; for they always went about 
 hand -in -hand. " We'll just have a look at the 
 poultry-yard, and smell the hay ; then we'll stroll 
 down to the plantation and round the field, and by 
 the time we get back you'll be waking up for tea." 
 
 Mrs. Grayson smiled and nodded as she settled 
 herself among the sofa cushions. " I should advise 
 you, though, to be careful how you go in the planta- 
 tion, uncle," said she. "Adders have found their 
 way there." 
 
 " Adders, eh ! " exclaimed Uncle Merry. " That's 
 a pity. It's such a pretty place to stroll in. 
 Londoners like me think a world of trees and 
 greenery after all the bricks and chimney-pots. 
 We ought to put a premium of half-a-crown apiece 
 on their heads like one of our English kings did 
 upon the wolves and get the place cleared of the 
 pest. But we'll take care ; so don't be fidgety on 
 our account, and spoil your nap." 
 
 Mrs. Grayson promised, saying she wasn't afraid
 
 A WHITE LIE. 8 1 
 
 to trust Uncle Merry to be prudent ; so he and 
 Miriam went off together. 
 
 At the first mention of adders Miriam had hung 
 her head and begun to feel uncomfortable. She 
 didn't exactly want that Uncle Merry should hear 
 the whole of the story. But Miriam's mamma was 
 not one to tell tales ; and as for Uncle Merry, he 
 was so much taken up with all there was to be 
 seen directly they got outside, that he asked no 
 further questions about the plantation. He went 
 round and looked at all the sitting-hens in their 
 wicker coops on the lawn, and heard how many 
 there were in each brood, and how each mother- 
 bird declined to allow members of her neighbours' 
 families to intrude under her wings. He watched 
 old Spinks milking the cows, and asked him no end 
 of questions about the hay and other crops, and 
 went to smell the fresh, sweet stacks; for Uncle 
 Merry, like all Londoners, was very fond of hay, 
 and would have romped like any tomboy if he had 
 come down whilst it was being tossed. Then he 
 walked on through the orchard and down the field 
 to the gate of the plantation. 
 
 " We must peep over, even if we don't go in," 
 said Uncle Merry, resting on the gate. Then he 
 began to ask about the adders how many had 
 been seen, and who had seen them, and so forth. 
 
 Miriam told him "only one," and that it had been 
 
 (254) 6
 
 82 A WHITE LIE. 
 
 killed ; and by degrees it all came out how she and 
 Madge and Terry were going to have tea there, out 
 among the trees, when they were frightened away 
 by this horrid viper ; but how a boy, hearing their 
 screams, had jumped over the fence and beaten it 
 to death with a stick. 
 
 Miriam was rather fond of relating adventures, 
 and she had unconsciously pictured the incident so 
 graphically that Uncle Merry listened with breath- 
 less interest. The only detail she kept back was 
 the name of the hero ; but that didn't suit Uncle 
 Merry. 
 
 " Well," observed he, " all's well that ends well. 
 But you haven't told me your deliverer's name. 
 He was a plucky chap, and he deserves a gold 
 medal." 
 
 Miriam answered that he was brother to a school- 
 fellow of hers. 
 
 " I should think his sister must be proud of him," 
 said Uncle Merry. 
 
 Miriam held her tongue. All her sprightliness 
 seemed to have vanished on a sudden. 
 
 " Yes," resumed Uncle Merry, " he richly deserves 
 a gold medal, this what's his name ? " 
 
 "Tom," said Miriam reluctantly. 
 
 " This Tom," repeated Uncle Merry. " But after 
 all," continued he, " I'd give more for a lad whose 
 brave deeds weren't done for the sake of any medal.
 
 A WHITE LIE. 83 
 
 The knights in olden times, you know, were quite 
 content to have the lady's thanks; and I daresay 
 this Tom was quite content with yours. You'll be 
 grand friends, you and Tom." 
 
 Miriam still held her tongue. 
 
 " I should like to thank him too," said Uncle 
 Merry. " I feel as if I owed him a good deal for 
 his defence of my grandniece a good deal more 
 than any medal could repay." 
 
 This was getting too hot for Miriam. " Very 
 likely he wouldn't want your thanks," said she, 
 looking down and plucking at the leaves on the 
 hedge. Miriam was very uncomfortable, and heartily 
 wished her temper hadn't got her into such a hobble. 
 
 " Not want my thanks ! " exclaimed Uncle Merry 
 in surprise. " Why ? I should have thought he 
 would have been just a trifle proud of himself. 
 Heroes usually like to wear their laurels." 
 
 " He wouldn't have my thanks," said Miriam, a 
 trifle sullenly. 
 
 " Ah ! of course he's modest," said Uncle Merry, 
 " and pretends he hasn't done anything worth mak- 
 ing so much fuss about. But I've a very great 
 mind," added Uncle Merry, "to give him a gold 
 medal just because he is a modest boy and a brave 
 one too. What do you say to that ? " He brought 
 a gold sovereign out of his waistcoat pocket. " He 
 deserves every farthing of that."
 
 84 A WHITE LIE. 
 
 " No he doesn't," cried Miriam, with sudden deter- 
 mination ; "and he isn't modest at all. He's a nasty, 
 disagreeable boy, and I hate him, Uncle Merry." 
 
 Uncle Merry had never looked so utterly aston- 
 ished in his life, or at least Miriam had never seen 
 him look so. " Hate the boy that saved your life ! " 
 cried he. " Never ! " 
 
 Then Miriam was obliged, in self -justification, to 
 tell the whole story over, from the first day in the 
 plantation, when Tom behaved so badly about the 
 primroses, to the day of her ill-fated picnic-party, 
 when he sprained his ankle in his ill-natured haste 
 to get away from her. 
 
 " Here's a kettle of fish ! " exclaimed Uncle Merry 
 when he had heard it all. " Tom doesn't deserve 
 his gold medal so thoroughly as I thought." 
 
 " He don't deserve it at all," interrupted Miriam, 
 who felt rather like crying by this time. 
 
 " And I'll tell you what," said Uncle Merry, 
 looking grave : " no more did you deserve that gold 
 half-sovereign you bought the locket with ; for you 
 are as bad as Tom, and there's a pair of you." 
 
 Miriam's countenance fell further still. 
 
 " Yes," said Uncle Merry, " it's six of one and 
 half-a-dozen of the other ; and I don't see a pin to 
 choose between you." 
 
 " But it's all Tom's fault," reasoned Miriam ; " he 
 began it by teasing me."
 
 A WHITE LIE. 85 
 
 " Very bad of him, too," returned Uncle Merry. 
 " But if little girls don't learn to take teasing 
 good-humouredly, they'll grow up dreadful-tempered 
 women. If you had given Tom good-natured 
 answers, you'd have turned all his gibes and jeers 
 into fun which is what you boys and girls are all 
 so fond of. 
 
 " Now I'll tell you what I'd like to see both you 
 and Tom do," continued Uncle Merry, as Miriam bit 
 her lips and looked down. " I'd like to see you 
 join a band of kindness not pledged to look out 
 for heroic deeds to do, you know ; but just to do 
 the little, simple acts of daily kindness that go to 
 make life sweet. Heroic deeds are like birthdays 
 and anniversaries, and the grottoes poor children 
 build with oyster-shells and bits of tile 'they're 
 only once a year.' It would be a terrible world if 
 there were adders to kill and giants to slay every 
 day of the year. But little acts of kindness are to 
 be done every day, and every minute of the day ; 
 and by doing them we get our hands in for the 
 greater acts." 
 
 But it was now time to return to the house for 
 tea ; so Uncle Merry took his arms off the gate, 
 and they began to retrace their steps. But Miriam 
 no longer laughed and chatted gaily, as she had 
 done coming out, for she could feel that she had 
 lowered herself in Uncle Merry's eyes.
 
 86 A WHITE LIE. 
 
 " Now when I'm gone," said Uncle Merry, as 
 they crossed the lawn towards Mrs. Grayson, who 
 was stepping out to meet them, " think what there 
 is that you could do to make Tom's time pass 
 pleasantly. Take him a book to read, or gather 
 him a bunch of flowers, or get your scissors and 
 cut him a basketful of that lovely mustard and 
 cress that is to burn my mouth at tea ; and let him 
 see that you are sorry for the accident he met with 
 in serving you, and that you are ready to go half- 
 way towards making the quarrel up." 
 
 And Miriam had more than half a mind to do it.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 PULLING ONIONS. 
 
 WHILST Great-uncle Merry was leaning on 
 the plantation gate lecturing Miriam, Tom 
 was grumbling away in style upon his couch, with 
 the injured ankle on a cushion; and whilst Katie 
 was doing her best to console and amuse Tom, Tab 
 in turn, after her own quaint fashion, was lecturing 
 Dick. 
 
 When last we heard of Dick he had gone through 
 the hole in the hedge after silly Tim. Now Dick 
 never went on this quest after his .unfortunate step- 
 brother but . he returned triumphant ; for Tim's 
 utmost cunning consisted in skulking a little way 
 along the lane beyond the field, and squatting down 
 to hide behind a gate-post or tree-trunk. The 
 consequence was that Tim came in to dinner blubber- 
 ing miserably to himself ; and when Tab held open 
 her pocket-slit to show him the gooseberries, he 
 cast a frightened look towards Dick, and actually 
 ran away.
 
 88 PULLING ONIONS. 
 
 Tab guessed all about it in a minute. Dick, 
 determined that Tim should not have the goose- 
 berries she had refused to him, had taken means to 
 convince the poor fellow that it would be better not 
 to defy his wishes. But this time Dick had gone 
 a little too far. Just as Tim ran out in came the 
 father, tired with his long morning's work, and 
 hungry for his dinner. Now Dick's father was not 
 a mild man, and if the boys were not in the kitchen 
 ready to sit down as he set foot on the threshold, 
 he invariably kicked up a fuss. 
 
 " Where be Tim ? " snarled he, casting his eye 
 round. 
 
 " Just this very minute run out again," responded 
 Mrs. Bull, as she lifted the saucepan to turn out 
 the dish of rice and skimmed milk with which the 
 children were to commence. " Dick had better go 
 and fetch him in." 
 
 However, Dick returned to say that Tim was 
 nowhere about. The fact was, he had taken flight 
 through the gap in the hedge again ; and it did not 
 suit Dick's purpose to follow him up just as dinner 
 was being served out. But Tim's father was not 
 satisfied. He had more than once had to adminis- 
 ter correction in Tim's defence. 
 
 " Tell you what ! " exclaimed he, bringing his fist 
 down on the table with such force that Tab and 
 Zillah burned their mouths with the hot rice, " tell
 
 PULLING ONIONS. 89 
 
 you what it is i You've been at him again. Now 
 you've got to fetch him in before you have a bit of 
 dinner." And Dick knew by past experience that 
 there was no appeal ; so out he rushed, bent upon 
 hunting Tim in pretty quickly. 
 
 When Dick's father had disposed of his bacon 
 and greens, and finished his crust of bread and 
 cheese, he pushed back his chair, and looked so 
 terrible at Dick that Tab and Zillah wondered 
 what was coming. Dick, however, went on uncon- 
 sciously enough, spooning away as fast as he could 
 at his plate of rice, and after a minute or so Mr. 
 Bull tipped his chair back on its hind legs and 
 reached down a short clay pipe off the cupboard by 
 the chimney-place. This he filled and lighted, after 
 which he stood up from his chair and looked at 
 Dick again. Then he walked to the door. 
 
 " Them two rows o' 'taters wants hoeing," said 
 he, facing about again upon the threshold ; " and 
 them injuns must be pulled to-day. I want the 
 bed broke up ; and I shall look to see 'em laid to 
 dry 'gin I come in again." 
 
 " A precious nice job with the sun right on your 
 back ! " grumbled Dick. " They can wait." 
 
 "Them as works with the sun on their backs 
 ha'n't got no time for mischief," said Dick's father 
 sternly. "Mind they're done, out of hand, afore 
 I'm back, or you'll get ne'er a crumb this side o'
 
 90 PULLING ONIONS. 
 
 to-morrow morning. Holidays don't do some people 
 no good, but only makes 'em lazy and spiteful and 
 good for nothing." 
 
 So all that afternoon, with the scorching August 
 sun upon his back, and the perspiration beading on 
 his brow, Dick had to work away at his penance. 
 
 By-and-by, when the shadow from the pear-tree 
 lengthened, Tab left her seat in the porch and slowly 
 made her way down the cinder-ash path between 
 the beans and peas to where Dick was hoeing. 
 Dick went on without looking up, and Tab stood 
 watching, whilst the hoe chopped up the mould and 
 gathered it together in a ridge along the row. 
 
 " What's that for ? " asked she presently. 
 
 " To make anybody sweat, I should say," returned 
 Dick promptly, unbending his back and pushing 
 back his hat. 
 
 " What good does it do the plants, I mean ? " said 
 Tab. 
 
 " Makes 'em grow big 'taters," answered Dick. 
 
 Tab could not see any at present, and she said 
 so, causing Dick to roar with merriment. " As if 
 'taters came like apples ! " grinned he. 
 
 Tab inquired, " How then ? " and was surprised 
 to hear that they grew and multiplied beneath the 
 soil from the slices of original potato that were 
 planted there. These simple facts that Dick thought 
 he never had to learn appeared such marvels to
 
 PULLING ONIONS. 91 
 
 this poor child of brick -and -mortar London, who 
 had never seen a green thing spring up in her life. 
 " I should like making 'em grow," said she. " It'd 
 seem that they must love me for it, like our sparrows 
 do when Zill and me puts crumbs out on the tiles." 
 
 Such poetic fancy was beyond Dick's comprehen- 
 sion. " There's all them injuns yet to pull," re- 
 turned he, thinking more about the hot sun on his 
 back. 
 
 " Wish I could help you," Tab said shyly. 
 
 " You ain't good for pulling injuns," said Dick, 
 with some contempt. 
 
 " Zill is, though," said Tab, looking round for her. 
 
 "Zill don't care for work," said Dick; "she'd 
 rather be my horse, if I don't drive too hard." 
 
 "She works at home," said Tab. "Zill's a rare 
 good girl," she added proudly. 
 
 " I'd rather bet on you nor her," said Dick. 
 
 , " I think," said Tab presently, " that I could pull 
 some ' injuns ' if you showed me how." So Dick 
 put down his hoe and came to show her how ; and 
 whilst Zillah frisked about after the butterflies in 
 the field whither she had followed Tim through the 
 gap, Tab's poor weak back was bent over the onion- 
 bed against a row of scarlet-runners all in bloom. 
 In a very little while she sat down on the cinder- 
 path and pulled them so, because it tired her to 
 stoop.
 
 92 PULLING ONIONS. 
 
 After a bit Dick, having got through with his 
 hoeing, came and commenced pulling on the oppo- 
 site side of the bed. 
 
 " It don't half make you, hot," said Dick, whose 
 own face was streaming by this time. 
 
 " I ha'n't been hoeing," answered Tab. " Besides, 
 I like to feel the sun warm on my back. It never 
 shines in our garret only up on the roof, and 
 bakes us, like an oven." 
 
 Dick pulled away in silence. He rather liked 
 talking to Tab ; only he was a bad hand at finding 
 much to say. 
 
 " Tim 's your brother, ain't he ? " Tab asked sud- 
 denly, when they had been some while without 
 speaking. 
 
 " Step-brother," corrected Dick. 
 
 " That don't make much difference, does it ? " said 
 Tab. 
 
 " His mother ain't my mother ; that's all," ex- 
 plained Dick. 
 
 "She's good to you, though," said Tab; "and 
 you're real bad to Tim. If I was you I'd be more 
 kind to him, poor fellow." 
 
 Dick held his tongue, and Tab on her side said 
 no more. But when the father came from work, 
 and growled because all the onions weren't all 
 pulled, she interposed. " He's gone on hard all the 
 time/' said she ; " and I've been helpin' him."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 TOM'S GOLD MEDAL, 
 
 FROM that day forward an odd kind of friend- 
 ship sprang up between Tab and Dick, and it 
 was very curious to watch the pains which the rough, 
 rude boy would take to please her : how he would 
 stand for an hour at a time against the porch try- 
 ing to answer her many questions about the hun- 
 dred and one things in country life that she was 
 ignorant of; how he would catch moths and butter- 
 flies and beetles and caterpillars for her to look at, 
 or instruct her in the mysteries of sowing and of 
 gathering in that " seed-time and harvest " of 
 which till then poor Tab had known so little. 
 But never again did he claim a share of Tab's 
 good things, though perhaps he got no less on that 
 account ; and all this while poor silly Tim had 
 peace. 
 
 Meanwhile, an important change had come over 
 the appearance of the two slum children. Their 
 poor old dust-coloured garments had given place to
 
 94 TOM'S GOLD MEDAL. 
 
 clean, bright prints last year's frocks, which Mrs. 
 Rivers had brought out and made over with Katie's 
 help, sitting by Tom's sofa, near the open window. 
 
 " They look like butterflies just out of the 
 chrysalis," Katie reported, after witnessing the 
 metamorphosis. 
 
 They were fitted up with a stout new pair of 
 boots each, too, and two cast-off hats of Katie's, 
 which, if rather sunburnt as Katie's standard 
 went, looked very neat and smart against the 
 tawdry, faded head-gear in which they had left 
 home. Better still, their thin arms grew daily 
 plumper and more round with care and rest and 
 better feeding ; their wan, pale cheeks took on a 
 healthy bronze out in the sunshine and free air 
 from morn till night ; and they lost the old, pinched 
 look that London children have. Only now and 
 again Tab, watching Zillah romping in the field 
 with Tim, would heave a sigh to think that she 
 must go back to her hard, dark life among the tiles. 
 She did not mind so much about herself, for she 
 could never dance with glee as Zillah did ; so per- 
 haps it didn't matter quite so much, she thought, 
 that she should leave the sunshine and the flowers 
 and go back to want and pinch. She did not even 
 know that there is much want and pinch, too, even 
 in the country, and that when the trees are bare and 
 the heavens black, frost kills the birds among the
 
 TOM'S GOLD MEDAL. 95 
 
 boughs as well as underneath the city eaves. She 
 only knew the country in the summer-time, and 
 that was very beautiful. 
 
 Tab loved the birds, especially the blackbirds 
 that awoke her with their sunrise hymns. Dick 
 found that out, and promised he would catch her 
 one to take back home. But Tab begged mercy 
 for the little things. She could not bear to think 
 of caging them as she was caged, when they had 
 wings to fly. "God would be angry with me, I 
 think," she told Dick in her simple way. Never- 
 theless, she was very pleased when he announced 
 that he had found a nest to show her, and even 
 trusted him to ride her down the field in the big 
 wheelbarrow. 
 
 A week before, Dick would have plucked this nest 
 ruthlessly from its bough, and laughed at the idea 
 of caring for the anguish of the parent birds ; but 
 since Tab thought it cruel, the pleasure of it seemed 
 gone. 
 
 All this while Tom and Katie were of course not 
 Tab and Zillah's only benefactors. Most of the 
 boys and girls who had contributed to afford them 
 this holiday, felt bound to come and see them at 
 the cottage ; and almost each one brought some 
 trifling gift. Some brought flowers, some nice 
 things to eat. One, who had heard a good deal of 
 talk about window-gardening for the London poor,
 
 96 TOM'S GOLD MEDAL. 
 
 collected a packet of seeds for Tab to sow when 
 spring came round again ; another brought some 
 snowdrop bulbs and crocuses. Some sought out 
 old toys and puzzles; others, left-off gloves and 
 scarves. One girl had knitted woollen stockings 
 for the winter -time; one had darned up several 
 worn pairs of her own. One gave a crochet shawl 
 that she was working for herself ; another begged 
 her mother's list, and made some nice warm stays : 
 and so the presents kept on pouring in till Tab and 
 Zillah felt themselves to be quite rich. 
 
 Miriam heard all about it from time to time 
 through Terry Grainger, whose cousin, Tiny Rad- 
 ford, it was who had made the list stays. Tiny had 
 tried hard to coax Terry into going with her to the 
 cottage ; but Terry was in too much fear of Miriam 
 to venture upon such a step, and Madge Tewson, 
 who was by, quite ridiculed the idea. 
 
 " As if they were princesses ! " exclaimed she, 
 " instead of nasty-smelling children from the slums, 
 with ragged clothes and dirty faces. I should think 
 they must be pretty well puffed up with self-conceit 
 by this time. Half the people in the place have 
 been to kiss their hands ! " 
 
 " If you could see the difference in them since 
 they came," argued Tiny, " I'm sure you'd wish that 
 you were in it." 
 
 Now being "out of it " was just what aggravated
 
 TOM'S COLD MEDAL. 97 
 
 Miriam, only she would not have this known for 
 anything. 
 
 " You talk as if there was nothing in the world 
 to do but heap one's charity on their two heads," 
 said she disdainfully; "as if there were no other 
 poor ! " 
 
 " Oh, I know there are," said Tiny " so very 
 many, quite as poor as they." 
 
 " Well, we've got our own scheme," said Miriam 
 curtly, turning away and pulling Terry with her ; 
 " and we shan't ask you, to help." And Miriam did 
 think, just for the time, that she would give a 
 children's Christmas dinner, or do something of the 
 kind, when winter came. " I've only got to ask 
 Great-uncle Merry," said she, quite confident that 
 he would empty his purse into her lap when he 
 heard of the scheme, and buy her all the usual 
 presents besides. "Uncle Merry's very rich." 
 
 Meanwhile, Uncle Merry's injunction with regard 
 to Tom had been entirely neglected, and poor Tom 
 got out again and swung himself about on crutches 
 without having received a word of thanks from her. 
 Great-uncle Merry had not forgotten, though ; and 
 Tom had received the gold medal he had spoken of 
 to Miriam, together with a letter full of thanks, 
 begging its acceptance in token of his appreciation 
 of the boy's heroic act. 
 
 Tom had never in his life before possessed a 
 
 (254) 7
 
 98 TOM^S GOLD MEDAL. 
 
 sovereign all his own. To Katie it seemed a mine 
 of money in itself. " You won't know what to do 
 with it," said she. 
 
 " Oh, shan't I ? " contradicted Tom. " Money 
 soon slips through your hands. I want that model 
 engine, and a box of compasses, and lots of things. 
 I mean to be an engineer, you know, and build 
 bridges and lay railways where even Stanley hasn't 
 been. And perhaps I'll buy you something out of it." 
 
 Katie said nothing just then ; but when the end 
 of Tab and Zillah's stay drew near, she went and 
 joined him one morning on the grass, where he lay 
 reading in the shade of the wych-elm. " Tom," said 
 she, "I wish that sovereign was mine." 
 
 " That you do, I'll wager," answered Tom. 
 " Girls are always after money. What would you 
 do with it ? " 
 
 " Give Tab and Zillah just another week," said 
 Katie, half in hopes that he would take the hint. 
 
 " That's more than either of them can expect," 
 said Tom decidedly. " We can't give all our money 
 up to them." 
 
 " O Tom," cried Katie, " I can't bear the thought 
 of letting them go back." 
 
 " It's Miriam's turn," said Tom. " It isn't fair 
 that we should do it all." 
 
 " Not fair, exactly, perhaps," said Katie thought- 
 fully. " That isn't what we've got to think about
 
 TOM'S GOLD MEDAL. 99 
 
 in doing good. We ought to do it just because we 
 want to." 
 
 "And if we don't want to, we ought not," reasoned 
 Tom, with false logic. " So there's an end of it ; " 
 and Katie said no more. 
 
 That afternoon Katie stole up to her room and 
 took out her gold locket the one she had worn at 
 the party in the spring, when Miriam so envied 
 her. It was a pretty one, and Katie's fingers lin- 
 gered over it as she hung it round her neck. Then 
 she took it off again, and turned it over many times, 
 and finally she clasped it on again. Now it was 
 not like Katie to be fond of dressing up, and just 
 now she was only testing her powers of self-denial. 
 She wanted to make sure that she would not be 
 very sorry when it was too late to draw back. 
 
 Now it happened that Dick had taken it into 
 his head to give Tab a great treat that afternoon. 
 His father's master having bought a crop of pears 
 in an orchard half-a-mile beyond, Dick had offered 
 Tab the ride there in the barrow to see them gath- 
 ered, and pick the bruised ones up ; and Katie, 
 standing near her window making up her mind, 
 saw them all pass by Tab in the barrow on a 
 sack of straw, with Tim and Zillah harnessed on 
 in front, and Dick to wheel behind, and all so 
 full of fun and merriment that in an instant the 
 scale was turned, and Katie's mind made up.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A SAD LOSS. 
 
 THE question was, how to dispose of the locket, 
 and how much it would fetch. 
 
 The jeweller and watchmaker in the street would 
 buy it, Katie felt quite certain ; but there was an 
 uncomfortable doubt in her mind as to whether she 
 had any right to part with it without her mother's 
 leave. " It's my own," she reasoned ; " and what is 
 the use of having property of one's own, if one may 
 not do as one pleases with it ? It is not as if I 
 wanted the price of it for a silly purpose. It is 
 for such a good cause. Jesus said, ' Sell what thou 
 hast, and give to the poor.' Surely mamma could 
 not object." 
 
 " Then why not ask her ? " said another voice, 
 which Katie could not exactly answer. Just in the 
 midst of her perplexity Mrs. Rivers called to her. 
 
 " Katie," said she, " here are some letters I want 
 you to carry to the post ; and you may take this 
 pot of currant jelly round to Mrs. Bull's for Tab
 
 A SAD LOSS. 10 J 
 
 and Zillah. I have quite as much as I shall want 
 without it ; and their stay is nearly up." 
 
 There was an opportunity to broach the question 
 of giving them another week ; but there was also 
 the chance of getting out alone and ascertaining for 
 herself how much her generosity would bring her 
 in, for the jeweller's was next door to the post-office. 
 Quickly unfastening the locket from her neck and 
 slipping it in her pocket, Katie put on her hat, and 
 taking a pair of gloves out of her drawer, ran 
 downstairs, putting them on as she went. 
 
 " There is no time to lose," her mother warned 
 her as she held the letters out. " Post these first, 
 and then go on to the cottage. You will be back 
 in plenty of time for tea." So, with the letters and 
 the basket in her hand, off ran Katie, feeling rather 
 guilty, though, it must be owned. 
 
 There was no one in the jeweller's as Katie 
 passed ; so, quickly counting her letters and slipping 
 them in the box, with a glance at the post-office 
 clock to see they were in time, she turned back and 
 stepped in. 
 
 The old jeweller was behind the counter, busy 
 cleaning up his jewellery. " What can I show you, 
 missie ? " asked he, holding up the bit of silver 
 filigree that he was brushing. " That's a pretty 
 little brooch to send to anybody on their birthday," 
 said he, turning it about so as to make the light
 
 102 A SAD LOSS. 
 
 glitter on it. Katie had more than once bought 
 birthday gifts there for her little friends, and he 
 thought she might be wanting one. But Katie 
 shook her head. 
 
 " No thank you, Mr. Brett," said she. " I've no 
 money to spend on birthdays just at present." 
 
 " Insolvent, eh ? " laughed Mr. Brett, brushing 
 away at the little brooch, which he held by its pin 
 between the blackened tips of his finger and thumb. 
 " All gone in sweets ? " 
 
 Katie smiled ; but she was too eager to proceed 
 to business to make answer back. Her hand was 
 already in her pocket. " I wanted you to tell me 
 how much you could give me for this," she said 
 with heightening colour, drawing out the locket 
 and chain. 
 
 " How much ? " repeated Mr. Brett, looking at 
 her outstretched hand in some astonishment. "Why, 
 you don't want to sell your locket ? " 
 
 " I'm thinking about doing so," said Katie posi- 
 tively. 
 
 " But little girls that live at home don't need to 
 sell their jewellery," objected Mr. Brett. " Their 
 parents buy them all they want." 
 
 " I want to raise some money," said Katie, in a 
 tone that rather seemed to say, " What for, is no 
 concern of yours." " How much is it worth ?" she 
 asked again.
 
 A SAD LOSS. 103 
 
 Mr. Brett took the trinket, turned it over, ex- 
 amined the carat mark, and weighed it in his hand. 
 Then he pushed his glasses up and looked her in 
 the eyes. " I know just what it's worth," said he, 
 " because your father chose it from this very case 
 my hand is on. But if I were to give you money 
 for it, don't you see, I should be hauled over the 
 coals for it, because you're not of age, and infants 
 aren't allowed to sell their property ? It isn't theirs, 
 you know, because they're not their own. They 
 belong to their parents, every bit of 'em, until 
 they're twenty-one. So you must just go home, and 
 if you're bent on parting with it, bring your parents' 
 writing to the bargain. I couldn't buy it any other 
 way." 
 
 Katie's face clouded over. 
 
 "If I were you," said Mr. Brett, "I'd give up 
 such a ramshackle idea. Not every little lady 
 of your age has such a handsome locket of her 
 own." 
 
 "But then, you see, you don't know what it's 
 for," said Katie, as she took the locket back. " It's 
 not for anything that's wrong or silly, Mr. Brett ; 
 indeed it isn't," she added, lingering half in hopes 
 he would relent. 
 
 " Of course not," answered Mr. Brett. " But that 
 being so, why not take mamma into council on the 
 subject ? "
 
 104 A SAD LOSS. 
 
 Katie left the shop disappointed, and turned her 
 steps towards Mrs. Bull's. 
 
 Of course Tab and Zillah were not at home to 
 thank her ; Mrs. Bull took the opportunity of 
 speaking a word in praise of them. " Two nice 
 little girls as ever I'd wish to have under my roof, 
 miss," said she, " 'specially the afflicted one. And 
 handy ! I never saw a woman more quick in put- 
 ting herself forward to help. Many's the time she's 
 stirred the rice for me whilst I frizzled the bacon for 
 my husband ; and as to peeling the potatoes, I might 
 say I ha'n't handled one since she's been here. She 
 never once forgets a thing you tell her, either, like 
 so many gals. As to Dick, he don't know how to 
 make enough of her. It's just as if she'd tamed 
 him, miss made a lamb out of a wolf, as you 
 might say. And yet he made such fun of her the 
 first night she were here. I thought the poor little 
 body'd never get a moment's peace. His father 
 said to me when Dick were gone to bed, ' Look 
 'ere,' ses he : 'if Dick can't be considerate to them 
 as is misfortunate, why, he'll get a taste o' strap, 
 that's all.' But bless you ! Dick ha'n't needed it ; 
 and he's let Tim alone the whole time through, and 
 hardly teased him once." 
 
 " And they've got to go home on Monday," said 
 Katie ruefully. 
 
 " It do seem a pity," said kind-hearted Mrs. Bull.
 
 A SAD LOSS. 105 
 
 " I do declare I'll ask my old man if we can't give 
 'em a couple o' days more out of our own pocket. 
 The parson preaches to us of the duty of giving to 
 the heathen far away in distant lands ; but / say, 
 'Charity begins at home.' Anyhow, 'twould be a 
 downright pleasure, and we'd see what good we're 
 doin' them" 
 
 Katie went home wishing more than ever that 
 she could find the money that she wanted. "O 
 Tom ! " cried she, kneeling on the grass beside him, 
 and beating down a worm-cast with the handle of 
 his crutch. " It's all no use. He wouldn't take it ; 
 and they'll have to go." 
 
 " Who wouldn't ? Take what ? Go where ? " 
 queried Tom. 
 
 " Oh, I forgot you didn't know," said Katie, 
 colouring. " I didn't mean any one to know. I 
 wanted Mr. Brett to give me money for my locket, 
 to pay for Tab and Zillah's staying here another 
 week." 
 
 " You little idiot ! " cried Tom, with more force 
 than politeness. "A good job that he didn't; you'd 
 have caught it awfulty." 
 
 " But, you see, I shall never care for it again," 
 said Katie. " It's pretty ; but of what real use are 
 pretty things ? " 
 
 " You're not an atom like a girl," said Tom, right 
 puzzled. " Girls generally hanker after finery."
 
 io6 A SAD LOSS. 
 
 " I shouldn't care for anything, if only Tab and 
 Zill could have another week," said Katie sadly. 
 
 Tom was silent, looking at his book. Suddenly 
 he stretched his hand out. "Let's see what the 
 locket's worth," said he. " Perhaps I'll lend you 
 something on it. I shan't want all rny sovereign 
 yet awhile." 
 
 " O Tom, will you ? " Katie cried. " I'll save up 
 every farthing that I get, and pay you by degrees. 
 You dear old Tom ! " 
 
 " Of course," said Tom. " Let's look." 
 
 But Katie's face was blank with consternation 
 and dismay. Her hand was in her pocket, and she 
 felt and felt in vain. 
 
 "O Tom!" she cried, "what shall I do? It's 
 gone. My locket's gone ! "
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 A LETTER TO BERMONDSEY. 
 
 A HOLE at the bottom of the pocket was the 
 cause of this sad loss. Katie turned her 
 pocket inside out, and sat upon the grass with her 
 finger through the hole, gazing ruefully upon its 
 emptiness. 
 
 Tom was the first to speak. " It's gone," said 
 he ; " that's certain. Clean gone ! " 
 
 " What shall I do ? " moaned Katie. 
 
 " All comes of being like a boy," said Tom 
 consolingly. " I daresay that old knife of mine has 
 worn the hole." 
 
 " What shall I do ?" repeated Katie. 
 
 " Go and look for it, first thing," said Tom. 
 " Perhaps you'll find it if you go along the road 
 you came. I'd go at once, if I were you." 
 
 " Do you think there's any chance ? " cried Katie, 
 springing to her feet. 
 
 " Might be," said Tom. " At any rate, you 
 needn't set up a howl until you've looked." So off
 
 io8 A LETTER TO BERMONDSEY. 
 
 went Katie, with her whole heart in her eyes, and 
 searched every step of the way to Mr. Brett's, and 
 back again to Mr. Bull's, even up the garden-path 
 and into the front sitting-room, where she had stood 
 to take the currant jelly out. But no locket was 
 to be seen. Katie was well-nigh in despair. 
 
 " You'll make it public, won't you, miss," said 
 Mrs. Bull, " and offer a reward ? " 
 
 But the very thought of it made Katie hot. 
 What would her parents say ? It was a very 
 heavy heart she carried home with her ; for she. 
 had meant to do well, and just because she had 
 been bent on doing it all alone, she had done very, 
 very ill. 
 
 Tom guessed at a glance that her search had 
 been in vain. " Well, that's a pretty go ! " said he. 
 
 " I must go and tell mamma," said Katie, who 
 had not the least thought in the world of hiding 
 what she had done. 
 
 Tom said nothing ; but he felt as if he would 
 rather eat his own head than have such a terrible 
 confession to make. 
 
 Mrs. Rivers was still writing in the dining-room 
 when Katie went in. " Well, were my letters in 
 good time ? " she asked, as Katie came towards her. 
 " I had meant this one to go also," she went on as 
 Katie told her " Yes." " But the evening post will 
 do. It is for Tab and Zillah's father. Guess what
 
 A LETTER TO BERMONDSEY. 109 
 
 I have written, Katie ; I know you will be 
 pleased." 
 
 It could be only one thing, Katie knew ; but she 
 positively could not find a word to say, she was so 
 full of her own trouble. 
 
 " Why, how you've hurried ! " her mother said, 
 perceiving something was amiss. " You're quite out 
 of breath, and in such a heat." 
 
 But Katie went straight to the point at once. 
 
 " mother ! " she cried, " I've been so naughty, 
 and I meant to be so good;" and thereupon the 
 whole history came out. 
 
 Mrs. Rivers looked serious, but she did not scold. 
 "You intended to do well, dear; so you mustn't 
 grieve. But it was a pity that you didn't ask me 
 first, for you see I'd thought of doing the very 
 thing you wanted." 
 
 Katie burst into tears. "I wanted the money 
 to be my very own," said she, between her sobs. 
 " And now I've lost the locket you and papa gave 
 me, and done no good." 
 
 "Never mind," her mother told her soothingly. 
 " The best-intentioned of us make mistakes, even 
 your papa and I sometimes ; and you will be the 
 only sufferer, since Tab and Zillah are to have the 
 extra week just the same. So dry your eyes, and 
 after tea we will go round and take them their 
 good news."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 MIRIAM'S WISH. 
 
 NOTHING further was heard of the locket. 
 Mr. Rivers reported the loss at the police- 
 station, and offered a reward ; and Katie and her 
 mamma made numerous inquiries in the neighbour- 
 hood, in hopes that some of the cottagers' children 
 might have lighted on it, playing up and down. 
 But all to no effect ; and by the time that Tab and 
 Zillah's extra week drew to a close, Katie had given 
 up all hope of ever seeing it again. 
 
 Zillah cried at the prospect of leaving her happy 
 dream behind. Tab did not cry. She thought less 
 about herself. But she looked at Zillah with some- 
 thing like a mother's love, wishing oh, so ardently 
 that she could stay back there, among the flowers 
 and the butterflies. Only she would have hardly 
 liked to trust her all alone ; for Zillah was so fond 
 of pretty things and frolicking, and Tab knew 
 well that honest girls must work. 
 
 "She'd make a tidy servant, now, if she was
 
 MIRIAM'S WISH. in 
 
 taught," said Mrs. Bull, as Tab sat talking whilst 
 she ironed up the clothes that she had washed for 
 them to take home clean. " Perhaps another year 
 we might get her some light place hereabouts, where 
 she'd be learning under my eye." 
 
 Tab looked eager. " I wish we could," said she. 
 " Would anybody really take her, do you think ? " 
 
 "Why not?" said Mrs. Bull. "She's strong- 
 looking and well-grown, despite her many hard- 
 ships ; and many ladies, such as haven't got enough 
 to fill their time, will take a girl like her to train 
 and make a servant of. But you'd be lonesome, 
 like ; for you ain't strong enough to take a place." 
 
 Tab shook her head. " That wouldn't matter 
 much," said she, " as long as I saw Zillah right. 
 That's all I want ; and then I'll pray Almighty God 
 to take me where the angels are. I think I know 
 just what it's like since I've been here." Just like 
 that peaceful country place, the poor child thought, 
 only lovelier and more peaceful, if that could be ; 
 God its light, and angels, with their golden harps 
 and silver wings, instead of birds. That was Tab's 
 idea of heaven ; and she was content to wait till 
 God should call her there, provided only Zill grew 
 good and happy. 
 
 To Dick she said, "Now, when I'm gone you 
 will be kind to Tim ; now won't you, for my 
 sake ? "
 
 ii2 MIRIAM'S WISH. 
 
 " He'll have to be my horse again," said Dick. 
 For Zillah had taken poor Tim's place the most 
 part of the time, and Dick had found her much 
 more fleet. 
 
 " You won't be cruel, and drive hard," Tab 
 pleaded, with her hand upon his sleeve. 
 
 " P'raps ; p'raps not," said Dick. 
 
 " But he's so silly and so weak like me," said 
 Tab. " He can't go fast like Zill. God made him 
 so. You will be kind to him." 
 
 It was two o'clock when she and Zillah started 
 home. Mrs. Rivers went wicn them to see them 
 safe into their father's hands. She had chosen 
 afternoon, so that they might have a good dinner 
 first, and they took a large bundle of warm things 
 for the winter with them, besides fresh butter, tea 
 and sugar, new-laid eggs, a piece of bacon ready 
 cooked, and other sundries, packed together in a 
 hamper with the roots and seeds, and a great big 
 posy of fresh-cut flowers on the lid. Zillah carried 
 a large bunch of turnips and onions which Dick's 
 father had given her ; and Tab hugged in her arms 
 a pumpkin marrow Dick had begged for her, to 
 hang till winter-time. And so they took their 
 places in the train, and waved farewell to all their 
 many little benefactors, who had flocked to see 
 them off. 
 
 Miriam and Madge Tewson met them going back.
 
 MIRIAM'S WISH. 113 
 
 Miriam tossed her head, and looked the other 
 way ; but Madge stood still and counted them aloud. 
 " Three-and-twenty, I do declare ! " exclaimed she in 
 a mocking tone; "all to see the little ragamuffins off. 
 Well, I hope they haven't left the plague behind." 
 
 " If they have, I hope that Tom and Katie Rivers 
 may be the first to catch it," said Miriam. 
 
 " I call that downright wicked," said a boy who 
 was walking between Katie and his sister. 
 
 " Wishes do come true sometimes," added the 
 sister in a serious voice. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Katie, who had been taught to 
 laugh at superstitious notions. " I'm not afraid. 
 It's a pity, though, that Miriam will say such things, 
 when she might be friends all round;" and she 
 nodded " Good-bye." 
 
 " Say, Kit ! " broke out Tom, as they sat at tea 
 Katie pouring out in Mrs. Bivers's stead " what a 
 jolly thing it is for Miriam's brother that she hasn't 
 got one ! " 
 
 Katie laughed, and told him not to talk such 
 Irish. 
 
 " But it just occurred to me," continued Tom, 
 " what a cat-and-dog life they would lead." 
 
 Katie moved her spoon round slowly in her cup, 
 and did not answer. She was thinking. 
 
 " I should be afraid she'd put cold poison in my 
 tea," said Tom. 
 
 (.254) o
 
 ii4 MIRIAMS WISH. 
 
 " O Tom !" cried Katie ; " you do say such wicked 
 things." 
 
 " Better that than do them," answered Tom. 
 " That's what Miriam would like to do. She'd see 
 me with the plague to-morrow, if she could." 
 
 Katie shook her head. " She doesn't mean one- 
 half of what she says." 
 
 " She's a nasty, disagreeable thing," said Tom. 
 
 " I wish she'd had a brother," said Katie, thought- 
 fully. " It must be very bad to be without." 
 
 " I'm glad I'm yours instead of hers," said Tom ; 
 " that's all ! " 
 
 Mrs. Rivers always left a little feast for them if 
 she went out some sweet-cake and preserve ; and 
 Susan had made them some dough-nuts, of which 
 both children were particularly fond. But Tom 
 appeared to have no appetite. " I'm shivering all 
 over," said he when Katie remarked on it. 
 
 " Oh, Tom !" cried she ; " in August ! After that 
 walk through the sun, too. Eat some more. You 
 know papa says food is like fuel to the engine fire." 
 
 But Tom shook his head, and pushed away his 
 plate with the unfinished dough-nut on it. 
 
 " The sight of it makes one feel bad," said he. 
 So Katie ate no more ; and very soon they left the 
 table and went out of doors. Mrs. Rivers had 
 given permission for them to wait up till her re- 
 turn, which might be rather late, as she intended
 
 MIRIAM'S WISH. 115 
 
 going all the way to Bermondsey ; but Tom grew 
 tired of sitting up as soon as dusk came on. He 
 felt so drowsy, and his head began to ache. 
 
 " You'd better take some rhubarb, hadn't you ? " 
 suggested Katie, who knew her mother's remedies, 
 and never stopped to think about a nasty dose. 
 But Tom shuddered and shook his head, and said 
 that he should go to bed ; so Katie went up too. 
 
 Tom slept very heavily that night, and when 
 Katie roused him next morning he drowsed off 
 again. It was rather early, for it was Susan's day 
 out, and Katie had promised her some flowers to 
 take home. Susan lived in London, and her parents 
 always looked for the lovely nosegays she brought 
 home. " The flowers make us young again," they 
 said. Katie called to Tom as she went down ; but 
 still he did not rouse. A weight was on his head, 
 and all his limbs seemed made of lead. Katie cut 
 the flowers, and put them in the cool in water ; 
 then she went underneath Tom's window, and gently 
 threw little bits of gravel up against the glass, in 
 hopes of attracting his attention. She wished that 
 he would come, for after the flowers she had given 
 Tab and Zillah on the previous afternoon, she had 
 to strip her garden-bed to get a bunch for Susan ; 
 and then it wasn't half so nice as usual. But Tom 
 drowsed on until the bell rung for prayers, and still 
 he didn't come downstairs. "Tom can't be well,"
 
 n6 MIRIAMS WISH. 
 
 said Mrs. Rivers, looking puzzled ; and she at once 
 went to his room. 
 
 She came down with a serious face, to mix a 
 dose for him. " Tom doesn't seem at all the thing," 
 said she. 
 
 Susan was waiting near the door to take her 
 place for prayers. " I'd better not go out to-day, 
 ma'am, perhaps," said she. " If Master Tom is 
 going to be ill, you might be glad of me." 
 
 But Mrs. Rivers would not hear of disappointing 
 her. " You're a good girl, Susan," answered she ; 
 "but your mother is expecting you. She -would 
 think that something was the matter if you did not 
 come. Besides," she added hopefully, " it is nothing 
 serious. Master Tom was walking in the sun a 
 good while yesterday. Perhaps that was the cause. 
 This dose will set it all to rights." 
 
 Susan " hoped it might ; " and her mistress went 
 upstairs to administer the potion. 
 
 Directly prayers were over, Susan bustled about 
 to put things straight ; then quickly changed her 
 working -dress, and hurried down, Katie meeting 
 her at the foot of the staircase with the nosegay 
 carefully wrapped round in damp moss and water- 
 proofed tea-paper to keep it fresh. Half-an-hour 
 later Susan was well on her way, with a happy 
 smile upon her face as she thought of her mother 
 hurrying to the station to welcome her. Meanwhile
 
 MIRIAM'S WISH. 117 
 
 Katie was to be her mother's right hand for the 
 day ; so she went into the kitchen to see what she 
 could do. But Mrs. Rivers had gone up to see to 
 Tom, who seemed getting worse. 
 
 " Doctors always say that sickness is one of 
 nature's remedies," said she to Mr. Rivers, who was 
 starting off to business. "I shall let it take its 
 course a bit, and see how Tom gets on." So Katie, 
 finding that her mother did not come, drew water 
 from the boiler to wash up the breakfast things. 
 It was the first time she had attempted such a 
 thing ; but Katie was a handy girl, and not above 
 a servant's work because her mother was a lady. 
 She had just finished when Mrs. Rivers came down. 
 
 " Tom is asleep now," said she. " I hope he will 
 be better when he wakes, or I shall wish that Susan 
 hadn't gone." 
 
 " Oh, but think how disappointed she would 
 have been ! " cried Katie. " And there really isn't 
 much to do. I can answer the door bell whilst* you're 
 upstairs with Tom." 
 
 " There's dinner to think about," said Mrs. Rivers. 
 " One thing, there is cold meat 
 
 "And the potatoes are already scraped," said 
 Katie, thoughtful as a woman ; " I saw them in the 
 bowl. And let me make the pie, mamma. Oh, 
 do ! perhaps poor Tom would eat a bit if he knew 
 that it was mine."
 
 n8 MIRIAM'S WISH. 
 
 Mrs. Rivers had intended only to put a simple 
 milk-pudding in the oven, as she always did on 
 Susan's holidays ; but finding Katie so anxious to 
 make a trial of her skill, she gave permission ; so 
 with the article on pastry-making open before her, 
 Katie set to work, rolling out her crust most care- 
 fully, and marking it in scallops round the edge. 
 Very well it turned out, too, when at length dinner- 
 time arrived. Mrs. Rivers praised it as much as it 
 deserved which was saying a great deal, especially 
 considering Katie's age and inexperience ; but Tom 
 touched not a bit. His head was splitting, and he 
 was weary and exhausted with the sickness and the 
 pain. He could scarcely bear the light, nor raise 
 his heavy eyelids ; yet sleep seemed to have deserted 
 them. He lay there moaning and tossing, hot and 
 shivering alternately. 
 
 Mrs. Rivers was becoming more and more alarmed. 
 She took her needlework and sat up in his room, 
 leaving Katie to pack away the dinner things in 
 the scullery; and so the afternoon wore on. At 
 length she went downstairs again to Katie, who 
 was just about to lay the cloth for tea. 
 
 " I think Tom ought to have a doctor, Katie 
 dear," said she. " I'm afraid that he is going to be 
 seriously ill."
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 KATIE'S FEAR. 
 
 ATIE looked up with a very frightened face. 
 Miriam's words about the plague flashed 
 through her head. " I hope that Tom and Katie 
 Rivers may be the first to catch it," Miriam had 
 said. 
 
 " You had better run and see if Digby has gone 
 home," Mrs. Rivers went on. " If not, send him up 
 to Dr. Furnace's at once. I wish that your papa 
 were here. But he is stock-taking, you see, and 
 will be late again to-night." 
 
 Katie ran away with the message, calling Digby 
 as she went ; but she searched the premises in vain. 
 The man had already gone home to his tea. 
 
 " And won't be back until it's time to put the 
 pony to, to fetch your papa from the station," said 
 Mrs. Rivers. "I wish that Susan had not gone 
 to-day." 
 
 " Let me run for Dr. Furnace," said Katie eagerly. 
 
 " It's such a long way for you by yourself," ob-
 
 120 KATIE^S FEAR. 
 
 jected her mamma ; " and dusk comes on so quickly 
 these late summer evenings." 
 
 " I'll run every step of the way, mamma," urged 
 Katie. " Do let me go ! It may be too late if we 
 delay." 
 
 Mrs. Rivers smiled, in spite of her own fears. 
 " Tom isn't quite so bad as that, I hope," she an- 
 swered reassuringly. " Still, I would rather Dr. 
 Furnace saw him before morning ; he seems so 
 feverish." 
 
 " Then do let me go," begged Katie. " I promise 
 you I'll run." 
 
 So Mrs. Rivers gave consent. " Only there's no 
 necessity to run," said she. But anxiety lent wings 
 to Katie's feet, and she sped swiftly along the lane 
 and up by the plantation, where the birds, too busy 
 over family considerations all day long, were gos- 
 siping among the boughs. 
 
 Katie did not hear them, for Miriam's words were 
 in her ears ; she had not even time to stop and 
 reason, or she would have recognized how ridiculous 
 it was to think that God would let her school- 
 fellow's wish work mischief against Tom. But 
 Katie thought of nothing but Tom's danger. A 
 blackbird even flew across the road, not half-a-dozen 
 yards ahead, with a startled " Quivit ! quick ! quick ! 
 quick ! " But she hardly noticed it. Her mind 
 was full of that one thought.
 
 KATIE'S FEAR. 121 
 
 Miriam was inside the garden gate with Madge, 
 as she ran by, and stared to see her flying past at 
 such a rate. " Have you lost anything ? " she called 
 out in a jeering tone. " ' K. K. careless Katie.' 
 Have it cried." 
 
 " ' Oh yes ; lost my wits' ! " added Madge, raising 
 her voice in imitation of the old town-crier. But 
 Katie did not heed. On she sped, past the farm- 
 yard gate, past the church, and down the hill, pant- 
 ing and breathless, without a respite, till the steep 
 ascent up the other side forced her to slacken pace. 
 
 Mrs. Bull was in the honeysuckle porch as Katie 
 came in sight, toiling up the road. She stepped 
 outside, and leisurely came down the path to meet 
 her. " Did they get home safe, miss, our two little 
 gals ? " asked she when Katie got quite close. But 
 Katie's panting breath and hot, flushed face told 
 plainly that something was the matter. 
 
 " Who's been frightening you, missie ? " she asked 
 before Katie had 'time to answer her other question. 
 " Come inside a bit." 
 
 But Katie shook her head. " I've been running, 
 Mrs. Bull; that's all," cried she. "Tom's ill, and 
 Susan's out; I'm fetching Dr. Furnace in a hurry." 
 
 " Bless the dear young lady, what a heat you're 
 in ! " cried Mrs. Bull ; " you'll do yourself a mischief 
 running so. Now you come in and rest, and Dick 
 shall run for you."
 
 122 KATIE'S FEAR. 
 
 But Katie would not rest until her message was 
 delivered ; and on she went, resuming her quick pace 
 so soon as ever she had gained the brow of the hill. 
 Five minutes later she had rung the surgery bell, 
 and was waiting breathlessly, with throbbing pulses 
 and trembling limbs, to know if Dr. Furnace was 
 at home. Luckily he was. " How fortunate you 
 came just now ! " said he. " There's nothing like 
 being in good time with the physic. I've only 
 just come in, so the horse is still in the shafts. Sit 
 down and rest a minute, whilst I take a cup of tea, 
 and we'll ride back together."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SUSAN GIVES GOOD ADVICE. 
 
 POOR Tom had typhoid fever. For a fortnight 
 Dr. Furnace came to see him twice a day, 
 and there was terrible anxiety throughout the house. 
 Mrs. Rivers was in his sick-room night and day, and 
 Katie had to shift as best she could, making her 
 papa's tea of a morning, sitting down alone to her 
 solitary dinner, and going to bed in the dusk with- 
 out her mother's good-night kiss. No wonder she 
 was miserable. She had not seen Tom since he was 
 taken bad, and she often cried herself to sleep, 
 thinking how he might never speak to her again. 
 
 Susan found her so, one night, lying with her 
 face buried in the pillow, sobbing as if her heart 
 would break. Now Susan was a simple-hearted, 
 Christian girl. " Miss Katie, darling, don't take on 
 like that," said she. " Master Tom'll get well yet, 
 please God." 
 
 But Katie still sobbed on. " It's all that wicked 
 Miriam," cried she. " I hate her, that I do." 
 
 " Why Miss Miriam ? " asked Susan in surprise.
 
 124 SUSAN GIVES GOOD ADVICE. 
 
 " What can Miss Miriam have to do with Master 
 Tom's falling ill ? " 
 
 " She said she hoped he would," sobbed Katie ; 
 and by degrees she got the whole history out, be- 
 tween her sobs, of what Miriam and Madge had said 
 about the plague. 
 
 " You silly goose ! " said Susan, coaxingly, near 
 crying too, for sympathy, to tell the truth. " He's 
 got typhoid fever, not the plague." 
 
 " She didn't mean the plague, I don't suppose," 
 sobbed Katie. " She didn't much care w r hat he had, 
 so long as he was bad." 
 
 " And if she did," rejoined the maid, " what dif- 
 ference would it make, I'd like to know ? Fevers 
 don't depend upon ill-natured children's whims and 
 wishes, I should hope. Now just stop crying, and 
 dry your eyes and think." 
 
 Katie checked her sobs immediately, half ashamed. 
 " What made the fever come, then ? " asked she in 
 a tearful voice, trying to look up. 
 
 Susan sat down on the bed. It was very late, 
 and she was tired, for illness makes a deal of work. 
 " You see, I don't know very much," said she, " be- 
 cause I don't read many books. Your papa could 
 tell you better ; but I know it wasn't anything to 
 do with what Miss Miriam wished." 
 
 " She was nasty about our having Tab and Zillah 
 down, you know," explained Katie, trying to steady
 
 SUSAN GIVES GOOD ADVICE. 125 
 
 her voice ; " because Tom made her angry teasing 
 her, and so she wouldn't help. She never speaks to 
 either of us now." 
 
 " Very silly and unchristian, too," said Susan, 
 smothering a yawn. " You see," she went on pres- 
 ently, "as to how and why fevers come. I don't 
 think God would be unfair enough if that's a word 
 I may use with proper reverence about Almighty 
 God to put 'em in the hands of spiteful people, 
 just like weapons to do harm with. I shouldn't 
 love God if I thought he'd do like that ; should you, 
 Miss Katie dear ? " 
 
 Katie answered " No," and sobbed a little more. 
 
 Do you think Tab and Zillah could have brought 
 the fever down?" she asked by-and-by, sitting up in 
 bed. " The slum they live in is a nasty, dirty place, 
 you know," she added, just a trifle doubtfully. 
 
 But Susan shook her head. " The fever Master 
 Tom's got ain't like scarlatina," answered she. 
 " Nurse was telling me so yesterday. She says 
 that it comes from drinking bad water, and from 
 nasty smells, and that people don't catch it from 
 each other's clothes, but because they smell the 
 same bad smells, and get their drinking water from 
 the self-same pump. That's why I've got such 
 particular orders as to all the drinking water being 
 boiled. It's to be hoped no more of us will take 
 it, too."
 
 126 SUSAN GIVES GOOD ADVICE. 
 
 "And Tab and Zillah," added Katie, thinking 
 what a sad end to their holiday. " Poor Tab and 
 Zillah couldn't have such nursing as Tom has." 
 
 "But God takes care of the poor," said Susan 
 trustfully. " He wouldn't let 'em have a holiday 
 to go back ill." 
 
 " And now I'm off to bed," said Susan presently ; 
 "and mind you go to sleep. Your pillow is sopped," 
 she added, turning dry side upward, and laying the 
 bedclothes straight. " Now when I'm gone, if I 
 were you I'd get out of bed and say my prayers 
 again ; and then I'd go right off to sleep, and leave 
 the rest to God. Depend upon it, he knows better 
 what's the best for Master Tom than you or I." 
 
 Next morning Tom was pronounced out of danger. 
 The crisis had passed during the night, and the 
 doctor said that all would now be well. Katie had 
 to run away to hide her tears of joy when first she 
 heard the news, but Susan took no pains to hide 
 her own. " I said please God that he'd get well," 
 said she ; " and, Miss Katie, I asked again about the 
 way the fever comes. I asked the doctor this time ; 
 so it must be right. He says it's something w r rong 
 about the drains ; and when Master Tom is strong 
 enough, we're all to go away and have 'em set to 
 rights. So Tab and Zillah ain't to blame ; nor yet 
 Miss Miriam only for the will, not for the deed."
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 MIRIAM'S EYES ARE OPENED. 
 
 THAT morning was the first day of the autumn 
 term at school. Katie set out with a light 
 heart. She had seen Tom, and though terribly 
 shocked at his wasted appearance, she knew that 
 he was safe, as he had smiled at her. 
 
 She sang for joy as she ran down the drive ; and 
 all the birds seemed singing too the robins in par- 
 ticular, for it was now the middle of September. 
 
 Miriam was on in front, but guessing who was 
 following her, she took care not to turn her head. 
 But Katie was far too happy to feel annoyed. 
 Miriam had changed .her shoes and got into her 
 place when Katie walked up the schoolroom to 
 speak to Miss Ansell. 
 
 " ' K. K. careless Katie,' " whispered Madge, loud 
 enough for all the girls to hear. 
 
 " She's going to be put down, I'll be bound," said 
 Miriam, as Katie, after standing by the desk in 
 conversation with Miss Ansell several minutes, 
 turned back to take her place. Her eyes were
 
 128 MIRIAM'S EYES ARE OPENED. 
 
 moist and her face flushed, for she could not tell 
 her good news about Tom without a little cry. 
 Now Miriam had been away a week or two, and 
 did not know about the danger Tom had been in ; 
 and seeing Katie's troubled look, concluded it was 
 due to something Miss Ansell had said. But 
 Miriam proved wrong, for Katie was moved up 
 instead of down, and school commenced. 
 
 Miriam did so much whispering and tittering that 
 morning that she was kept behind, and even Madge 
 went off without her. When at last she came out 
 to the cloak-room for her hat, she found Katie still 
 there. " I thought I'd wait for you, Miriam," said 
 she. " It's so dull to go home all alone." 
 
 " You're very kind, K. K.," said Miriam sarcastic- 
 ally ; " but I'm sure you need not have troubled." 
 
 Miriam was fumbling at her shoes, trying hard to 
 do the buttons up with her fingers. 
 
 " You've left your hook at home ! " cried Katie, 
 pulling one out of her pocket. " Use mine." 
 
 But Miriam shook her head. " No, thank you, 
 Kate," said she, getting up to reach her hat, with 
 only half the buttons done. " I never borrow other 
 people's property." 
 
 Katie tried again, determined to make peace, if 
 possible. It seemed so terrible to think how the 
 " sun " of poor Tom's life had nearly " set upon 
 their wrath ; " and in her joy and thankfulness for
 
 MIRIAM'S EYES ARE OPENED. 
 
 129 
 
 his recovery she was ready to do anything to win 
 Miriam back. " Won't you be friends with me to- 
 day, Miriam ? " said she, stooping to pick up a glove 
 which Miriam had dropped. 
 
 " I'm in a hurry," answered Miriam, snatching at 
 the glove without a word of thanks, and pushing 
 past her to the door. 
 
 " I've waited on purpose, so that I might walk 
 with you," said Katie coaxingly. " I want to tell 
 you something." 
 
 " It'll keep till some other time, I'll be bound," 
 said Miriam carelessly, still pushing on. " Some 
 people's secrets aren't worth hearing. Perhaps 
 you've got your locket back ?" 
 
 " It's about Tom," said Katie, hurrying after her. 
 
 " He's been punished long enough, I suppose," 
 said Miriam. " Is he sorry yet ? " 
 
 " I don't know," answered Katie. " He was 
 wrong at the first, of course ; I told him so. But 
 I wanted you to know how ill he has been. He 
 nearly died last night. Miriam ! don't you care ? " 
 and Katie's voice trembled so that even Miriam, in 
 her heart of hearts, was softened. But pride still 
 whispered, " What do you care if he has been ill, 
 or nearly died ? What is he to you ? He has 
 offended you ; and you don't care a pin for him." 
 
 " What's that to me ! " cried she aloud. 
 
 " O Miriam ! " cried Katie ; " don't you really 
 
 (251) 9
 
 130 MIRIAM'S EYES ARE OPENED. 
 
 care ? You didn't surely mean it when you said 
 you wished he'd catch the plague ? Do let me 
 come and walk with you." 
 
 Miriam still hurried on ; but conscience smote 
 her. She remembered her own words quite well 
 "What if Tom had really died!" Still pride 
 whispered, " Don't let Katie see j'ou're sorry." 
 "Tom's a nasty, disagreeable boy," said she. "I 
 hate you both." 
 
 " Tom teased you once," said Katie, hurrying 
 after her. " But I think if you were ill, instead 
 of him, he would be ready to forgive you and be 
 friends." 
 
 Uncle Merry's words came back to Miriam. 
 " Now when I'm gone," her great-uncle had said, 
 "just think what you can do to show Tom that 
 you're ready to be friends." And that, in turn, 
 brought back to mind how generously Tom had 
 risked himself to save her from the adder. But 
 for Tom she might have been a cripple now ; or 
 worse still, cold and stiff beneath the cold, dark 
 earth out in the churchyard yonder. Miriam 
 shuddered. Somehow she could not think about 
 the brighter side of death just then. She knew 
 she had been wrong; and only those who copy 
 Christ can feel that death is passing into life. 
 
 " He wouldn't like to have been teased himself," 
 said she. "It isn't nice." But she slackened pace;
 
 MIRIAM'S EYES ARE OPENED. 131 
 
 and Katie, with one bound, was at her side, and 
 slipped a hand into her arm. 
 
 " Do let's be friends again," she begged. " I 
 think if you would come half-way, and let Tom 
 see you wanted to, he'd make it up, and say that 
 he's most sorry." 
 
 " All very fine ! " grumbled Miriam, " when he's 
 most in the wrong." That word "most" slipped 
 out unawares. Miriam did not mean to admit that 
 she was in the wrong at all ; but her better nature 
 took her off her guard, and spoke the truth. 
 
 " Tom was wrong first," said Katie ; " but then 
 you never thanked him when he sprained his foot 
 in saving you. And you don't know how much 
 he suffered." 
 
 Miriam had not cared a bit about it at the time. 
 Her mother had spoken seriously of her ingratitude, 
 but all to no effect ; and since she had almost for- 
 gotten about it. But now she seemed to see it in 
 a different light, and she was sorry all at once. 
 
 " Poor Tom ! " said she, quite gently. " All for 
 me ! Poor Tom ! " 
 
 That afternoon Miriam started earlier than usual 
 for school, in order that she might run up the lane 
 to Katie's first, to call for her ; and in her hand she 
 took two lovely tea-rosebuds, the pride and glory of 
 her bush. 
 
 " These are for Tom," said she.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 TOM'S GOOD FAIRY, 
 
 THE two girls were firm friends after this; 
 and every morning Miriam ran down the 
 lane to take a nosegay of fresh flowers for Tom. 
 
 At present Tom was far too weak to notice 
 much; but Miriam was content that they should 
 stand by his bedside, so that when he came to ask 
 who gathered them he might know she wanted to 
 make friends. At length, one morning, when he 
 was getting better, Katie went upstairs, as usual, 
 with Miriam's flowers. Tom was propped up on 
 his pillows, taking some beef -tea. It was the first 
 time he had been able to hold the cup to his own 
 lips. His eyes brightened as Katie entered. 
 
 " They are nice," said he, in his poor, weak voice. 
 
 " I'm glad you like them," answered Katie, cheer- 
 fully, with a meaning glance up in her mother's face. 
 
 " They smell so sweet," said Tom ; " and it's so 
 nice to have fresh ones every day. I'm so tired 
 of all the things in this old room."
 
 TOM'S GOOD FAIRY. 133 
 
 " I didn't know you noticed anything," said Katie, 
 looking down affectionately at his thin, pale face. 
 " It shows you're getting better fast." 
 
 Tom was certainly much better, and making 
 good progress. He had not tried to talk of any- 
 thing till then, but had only just lain still and 
 taken what they gave him with a smile. But now 
 it seemed as if he had roused to life again. " Roses, 
 too," said he. " Where did you get those orange- 
 coloured ones ? We haven't any like them in the 
 garden." 
 
 " Miriam brought them for you," answered Katie. 
 
 " Miriam ? " echoed Tom. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Rivers, coming to the bedside 
 for the empty cup. " It is Miriam who has brought 
 the flowers every day. But you see we were so 
 quiet about the name of your good fairy, that you 
 never suspected who she was." 
 
 Tom's eyes filled with tears. He was still so 
 weak that the news was almost more than he could 
 bear. His mother feared it was exciting him too 
 much. 
 
 " You will soon be strong enough to thank her 
 for yourself," said she. " But Katie must not keep 
 her waiting any longer now, or they will both be 
 late for school." So Katie said good-bye, and ran 
 downstairs. 
 
 As soon as she was gone Mrs. Rivers re-arranged
 
 134 TOM'S GOOD FAIRY. 
 
 the pillows, so that Tom could lie clown ; and Tom 
 shut his eyes, and lay so still that his mother thought 
 he was asleep, and went downstairs. But Tom was 
 not asleep. He was only tired with the effort he 
 had made ; and as he lay he was thinking about 
 Miriam. She wanted to be friends ; he was quite 
 sure of that, and he could not but be glad. And 
 yet just one thing troubled him. If Miriam made 
 up the quarrel while he lay there quite incapable 
 of teasing her or doing any harm, would it not 
 make him look rather small ? Tom wanted it made 
 up, but pride was in the way. He had risked his 
 life to save her from the adder all to no purpose ; 
 and now that he was weak and ill, he did not choose 
 to be forgiven for the little wrong that he had 
 done her in the spring-time long ago. Had he 
 stopped to think, he would have recognized that 
 forgiveness, in itself, is far more noble than any 
 show of greatness such as pride would prompt him 
 to maintain ; because, to be like Christ is the 
 greatest thing that any one can do. And Christ 
 forgave his enemies. 
 
 Katie went and sat a long while by Tom's bed- 
 side that evening. Now that he was fairly con- 
 valescent, she might talk to him ; and though Tom 
 was not strong enough at present to talk much, it 
 amused him to listen to all she had to chat about. 
 
 That very morning, as it chanced, too, she had
 
 TOM'S GOOD FAIRY. 135 
 
 seen a squirrel in the plantation. " He ran up 
 the very tree where you cut your initials," said she. 
 
 " That was in the Easter holidays," said Tom ; 
 " and now it's autumn. What a time it seems since 
 I went out ! " 
 
 " And what a lot youVe grown these last six 
 weeks !" added Katie. " People always do in fevers ; 
 so I've heard." 
 
 Tom lay still awhile. " Katie ! " said he pres- 
 ently. 
 
 Katie looked up from her work. 
 
 " I almost wish that Miriam hadn't brought me 
 flowers every day." 
 
 " Why, Tom ? " asked Katie, in surprise. " I 
 thought you'd be so pleased." 
 
 " Only," reasoned Tom, " it makes me look so 
 small, just as if she pitied me, now I'm so ill." 
 
 " I don't think that matters one single bit," said 
 Katie. 
 
 "You see," continued 'Tom, "I ivas in the wrong 
 a little bit at first. I oughtn't to have teased her 
 when I saw she took it so ; but she was horribly 
 ungrateful afterwards, and it doesn't look very nice 
 for her to come and forgive me when I can't move 
 hand or foot. It makes me look so small," repeated 
 Tom. 
 
 "You mean that you would rather have gone 
 to her, and asked her to forgive you whilst you
 
 136 TOM'S GOOD FAIRY. 
 
 were quite strong, and able to go on teasing if you 
 chose," said Katie. 
 
 But Tom shook his head. " I couldn't go so far > 
 as that" said he. " That would be humbling my- 
 self a little too much. It isn't even as if she were 
 a boy." 
 
 Tom's pride was far from conquered yet. 
 
 Katie cast about to think what she could say to 
 change his mind. " We ought not to be proud, Tom," 
 said she. " Papa read at prayers this very morning 
 how God resists the proud ; and Christ forgave his 
 enemies. You would really be the greatest that 
 way, after all." 
 
 Tom lay still, and said no more. 
 
 " Mamma was saying," Katie went on, by-and-by, 
 " that if you are as much better to-morrow as she 
 expects, you may perhaps get up a little while. 
 Then Miriam might come and give you the flowers 
 herself. May she ? " Katie added timidly. 
 
 Tom hesitated half a minute ; then he answered, 
 " If she likes ; but mind, I've no intention of beg- 
 ging her pardon, or doing anything of that sort." 
 
 Poor Tom ! how sad to have such a mountain of 
 pride to overcome. 
 
 Next morning, however, Miriam did not come as 
 usual. The sky was rather threatening, and Katie 
 accounted for the fact in that way, thinking that 
 she had been anxious to get to school before the
 
 TOM'S GOOD FAIRY. 137 
 
 wet came on. But Miriam was not in her place at 
 school ; and when Katie went to see what was 
 amiss, she found her lying on the sofa, feeling very 
 ill. 
 
 " I'm glad that it's half-holiday," said she. " To- 
 morrow I shall be all right, no doubt ; and I shall 
 have a lovely rose for Tom." 
 
 " Mamma says you may give it him yourself 
 to-morrow afternoon," said Katie, as she bade good- 
 bye. 
 
 But Miriam did not come, for she got worse 
 instead of better ; and by next afternoon she was 
 seriously ill.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 AS FIRE MELTS THE DROSS AWAY. 
 
 TOM went on improving very rapidly. Once 
 he got on to the sofa he was able to get 
 up for a little every day. Of course he tired very 
 quickly. At first he had to be carried from his 
 bed, and could not talk for long, nor hold a book ; 
 but all he wanted was to build up the strength the 
 fever had consumed, and considering the quantities 
 of good things that Tom devoured, it was not 
 surprising that the work went on so fast. At 
 length the doctor said he might go out a little in 
 the middle of the day. 
 
 Torn was longing to be out once more, and Katie 
 was quite ready to push the old chair round the 
 garden paths, and up and down the lane. But 
 just as this permission came the weather closed in 
 wet. 
 
 Meanwhile Miriam had been worse than even 
 Tom. The same infection which had poisoned Mr. 
 Rivers's \vell had poisoned Mr. Grayson's too. For
 
 AS FIRE MELTS THE DROSS AWAY. 139 
 
 many days poor Miriam had lain in the very jaws 
 of death. At length one night, however, her de- 
 lirium subsided, and she sank into a sleep so still 
 and death-like that parents, nurse, and doctor 
 watched by her with bated breath. All through 
 the night and all next day they watched her, whilst 
 the rain beat mournfully against the window pane, 
 as if the skies were sorrowing for their grief. More 
 than once the doctor held a mirror to her lips, to 
 see if she still breathed ; and more than once he 
 feared the heart had ceased to beat. But at last, 
 when evening came, just as the rain ceased, and the 
 setting sun broke out, her eyelids opened, and she 
 drew a long, deep breath, then fell into a sweet, 
 refreshing sleep. And they thanked God, knowing 
 she was saved. 
 
 Katie was sitting near the window in Tom's 
 room, learning a lesson, when the cloud lifted. 
 " You will be able to go out to-morrow, Tom," 
 said she, looking up from her book ; and she went 
 on planning all that they would do, until it grew 
 dark, and Mrs. Rivers came up with a light to help 
 Tom into bed. 
 
 She had not long left him, with the bell-rope 
 handy on his pillow, in case he wanted anything, 
 when Katie came upstairs again and crept into the 
 room tiptoe. 
 
 " Are you awake, Tom ? " whispered she.
 
 140 AS FIRE MELTS THE DROSS AWAY. 
 
 Tom answered " Yes," and moved his head up 
 on the pillow, wondering what she could want. 
 
 " I came to tell you, Tom," said Katie, " Susan 
 has been to inquire how Miriam is. She's safe, 
 Tom. Oh ! I am so glad ; aren't you ? She'll get 
 well now." 
 
 To Katie's infinite surprise, Tom hid his face in 
 his pillow for a minute, then burst out crying. He 
 too had been near death, and knew the utter help- 
 lessness of being very weak. And he was so thank- 
 ful Miriam had not died before he had a chance of 
 making up their quarrel. Katie laid her cheek 
 against his hair, and cried some tears of gladness 
 too, and by-and-by Tom raised his head again. 
 
 " Now I know God answers prayer," said he, 
 when he could find his voice, " because he's answered 
 mine." 
 
 " And mine," his sister answered softly, Avith her 
 arm still round his neck. 
 
 Ah ! Tom had learned to pray, not on his knees, 
 since he had been too weak to kneel, and very 
 different prayers from those he used to gabble over, 
 night and morning, when he was in health. God 
 teaches us by suffering sometimes, as the fire melts 
 the dross away and makes the metal pure.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 THE NEW SCHEME. 
 
 THE girls at school had been terribly shocked 
 at the news of Miriam's illness, but now 
 that she was safely on the road to convalescence, 
 they laughed and chattered merrily once more, as 
 school -girls do. Only Madge seemed dull and 
 wretched still. She came and went alone, and no 
 one seemed to care for her. 
 
 Katie mentioned it to Miriam, one day when she 
 went to sit with her. 
 
 " It seems too bad by half," said Katie, as they 
 talked. " It isn't Christian to treat her so ; and 
 yet it's her own fault, as much as any one's." 
 
 "I'm most to blame," said Miriam penitently. 
 "I made her wild against you her and Terry 
 Grainger and then the girls took up your side, 
 and made us worse than ever. But she never would 
 have quarrelled with you if it hadn't been for me." 
 So Miriam had her punishment to bear, like all who 
 cherish evil tempers ; and thus the weeks went on.
 
 142 THE NEW SCHEME. 
 
 Meanwhile another scheme was being set on 
 foot. 
 
 It was first canvassed in Mrs. Grayson's sitting- 
 room, where Miriam, still very weak, was lying 
 on the couch. " The girls all want to know what 
 we can do for charity this Christmas -time," said 
 Katie, coming in one afternoon, as she so often did, 
 upon her way from school. " Can you suggest ? " 
 
 "A Christmas dinner," answered Miriam promptly. 
 " Nice roast-beef and hot plum-pudding for a hun- 
 dred children. Coiild we manage it ? " 
 
 Katie didn't know. " The girls all want to do 
 something for Tab and Zillah Wimbly, who were 
 here last summer," said she. "We've got an interest 
 in them, you see." 
 
 Miriam saw the force of Katie's argument at 
 once. " And I may help this time ? " said she. 
 
 " Of course," answered Katie, giving her hand a 
 squeeze. " I wonder what we could collect ? " 
 
 " A lot," said Miriam, " if everybody gave up 
 Christmas-trees. And who wants Christmas-trees 
 when there are children starving ? I wish I hadn't 
 bought that stupid locket with the money Uncle 
 Merry gave me," she went on presently. 
 
 " Lockets aren't of much use, after all," said 
 Katie, sighing, with a thought of her sad accident. 
 " I've been just as happy without mine that is, 
 I should have been if I had never had it to lose."
 
 THE NEW SCHEME. 143 
 
 Mrs. Grayson came in just then, and heard what 
 they were talking about. " I know what I should 
 recommend," said she. " If you children can collect 
 enough, why not purchase a stocking -knitter for 
 Tab and Zillah, and so put them in the way of 
 earning money for themselves ? " 
 
 So the girls were taken into council, and a price- 
 list was obtained, and the stocking-knitter found to 
 be within their reach. " Whatever else we get 
 beyond the price of it," they all agreed, "shall go 
 towards some Christmas-dinner fund."
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 UNCLE MERRY'S BAND. 
 
 MIRIAM'S recovery was very slow and tedious. 
 She had been much worse than Tom, and 
 her strength was longer coming back. But she had 
 little chance of being dull, the girls were all so 
 kind. Madge Tewson was the only one who did 
 not come. 
 
 " I can't think why she has deserted me," Miriam 
 often said to Katie. " We've been such friends 
 especially since I quarrelled with you and Tom." 
 
 " Perhaps she's vexed you made it up with us," 
 suggested Katie. 
 
 " Or thinks that I don't want her now," said 
 Miriam ; and she tried to send her messages by 
 Katie and the other girls. But Madge took care 
 that none of them should have a chance of giving 
 messages. She kept all to herself, and never 
 spoke to any one if she could help. Poor Madge 
 was very wretched, if they had but known the 
 truth.
 
 UNCLE MERRY'S BAND. 145 
 
 About the middle of November, Great-uncle Merry 
 came to see how Miriam was getting on. 
 
 " There's room for Tom and Katie's ' fresh-air 
 mission ' here," said he, on finding she was strong 
 enough to be moved. 
 
 " O Uncle Merry ! " Miriam laughed. "As if / 
 had need of charity." 
 
 " Of course you have," replied her uncle cheerily. 
 " We all have need of charity ; for ' charity ' is love, 
 you know, not always giving alms, but just the 
 love that goes about this earth, endeavouring to 
 make the crooked places straight, and drive away 
 the clouds, and scatter seeds of kindness ' for our 
 reaping by-and-by.' 
 
 " You see," continued Uncle Merry, " there are 
 heaps of people haven't got the smallest coin to 
 spare to do a deed of what commonly goes by the 
 name of ' charity.' But they can give kind words 
 and gentle deeds, if they have loving hearts inside 
 their breasts, and be no whit the poorer for it all 
 the while. Now I know fifty little children near 
 my home who go about in this way doing charity. 
 They pick up little toddlers who have tumbled 
 down, and wipe away their tears ; they dance the 
 baby when he's fretful with a tooth and mother's 
 arms are tired out with nursing him. They warm 
 their father's slippers when he comes home cold 
 from work. They leave off in the middle of a game 
 
 (254) 10
 
 146 UNCLE MERRY'S BAND. 
 
 to help an old man's load up on his back. They 
 return soft answers in place of crabby, sour ones, 
 and give their teachers just as little trouble as they 
 can. They do more good, and make more sunshine 
 in their little world, without a penny of their own, 
 than many grown-up people do with all the gold 
 and silver they possess." 
 
 " What children are they, Uncle Merry ? " asked 
 Miriam. 
 
 " Just little boys and girls, six, eight, ten, twelve, 
 who live in courts and alleys near my home," Great- 
 uncle Merry answered. " Poor people's children, 
 mostly, too. Their fathers are bricklayers, painters, 
 porters, carpenters, day-labourers, who get what work 
 they can, and sometimes none at all. Their mothers 
 wash, and scrub, and sew, to help pay rent and 
 firing and food. Some have sick fathers or mothers ; 
 some have none at all. Some few are comfortably 
 off, and one or two are almost rich, but they are 
 thought no more of than the rest. They all are 
 simply ' Band of Kindness ' children pledged to do 
 whatever little acts of love and help they can to all 
 with whom they have to do." 
 
 " Was that what you were thinking of that day 
 when I told you about Tom Rivers, Uncle Merry ? " 
 asked Miriam. " You said that you would like to 
 see us ' Band of Kindness ' children." 
 
 " Quite right," replied her uncle. " I recollect
 
 UNCLE MERRY'S BAND. 147 
 
 quite well. It came into my head that many of 
 my hard-worked, ill-fed little friends would put you 
 two to shame, with your many great advantages, 
 and your disagreeable tempers." 
 
 " O Uncle Merry ! " cried Miriam, with tears 
 starting to her eyes, " we have made it all up now." 
 
 " And right glad I am to hear it," returned Uncle 
 Merry heartily. "I hope you won't unmake it, 
 again by any accident ; and as I'm a member of the 
 Band of Kindness too, I won't say any more tmkind 
 things about it." 
 
 " Uncle Merry ! " said Miriam suddenly, " could 
 we have a Band of Kindness here ? " 
 
 "Why not?" asked Uncle Merry. "Wherever 
 there are children there can be a ' band.' For band 
 means 'union,' you know. It means that you all 
 join together and try to keep before each others 
 minds the loveliness and happiness of doing good. 
 My little children meet each Sunday morning whilst 
 the big folks are at church, and tell each other 
 what they have been doing all the week. Some- 
 times they have sad tales to tell, of how the bad 
 part of them got the upper hand and made them 
 selfish and UTikind ; but they like to tell each 
 other, so they say, because it makes them feel 
 ashamed, and then they try so much the harder all 
 next week." 
 
 " But we're all comfortably off," said Miriam.
 
 148 UNCLE MERRY'S BAND. 
 
 "We don't have things to make us wicked and bad- 
 tempered, like your poor children do." 
 
 " That's very true," returned her uncle ; " so you 
 ought to have fewer tales of failure to relate. But 
 perhaps that's just the very snare wherein your 
 danger lies. You know, it's just when people think 
 themselves the most secure that they're most off 
 their guard. Remember that ! But don't you re- 
 collect that text about ' making a great feast ' ? 
 ' Call the poor, the maimed, the halt, the blind,' Christ 
 said. And I should like to say the same about 
 your ' band.' Don't keep it to yourselves. Get poor 
 children to join. You know many ' halt, and maimed, 
 and blind ; ' some whose tempers trip them up at 
 every step ; some whose hands have never learned 
 to serve the Master by these gentle little deeds of 
 every day that make life sweet ; some whose eyes 
 want opening to the great reward that comes to all 
 who seek not their own but others' happiness. Get 
 them to join your band."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 WON OVER. 
 
 A WEEK later Miriam and her mamma accom- 
 panied Great-uncle Merry to the sea. " What 
 will your ' Band of Kindness ' children do without 
 you, Uncle Merry ? " Miriam said, flying across the 
 country in the train. 
 
 " They know a certain little sick girl needs my 
 kindness just now," replied her uncle, " so they're 
 ' kind ' enough to do without me for a little while. 
 They are very fond of me, but they are not selfish, 
 don't you see, because they're ' Band of Kindness ' 
 children." 
 
 " Fond of you ! I should think they are, you 
 dear old Uncle Merry ! " Miriam exclaimed. 
 
 Miriam was obliged to have a chair at first, 
 because she could not walk ; but very soon the sea- 
 air made her ravenous, and when the appetite re- 
 turns, strength very quickly follows. In a fort- 
 night's time she was almost as well as she had ever 
 been only, like Tom, very tall and thin.
 
 350 WON OVER. 
 
 Meanwhile, Tom and Katie worked away for the 
 " Band of Kindness " with a right good-will. A 
 number of the boys and girls from both their schools 
 enrolled their names at once ; and each one under- 
 took to bring some other to the opening meeting, 
 when Miriam's Uncle Merry had promised to be there, 
 to give them a fair start and draw up the rules. 
 
 Tom undertook to ask Dick Bull. 
 
 " You fought him once, to teach him to be kind 
 to Tim," said Katie. "But I fancy Tab did far 
 more by her gentleness. He hasn't teased him half 
 so much since she was here, so Mrs. Bull was telling 
 me the other day." 
 
 Then Katie had to choose whom she would ask ; 
 being one of those brave people who never shun 
 hard tasks, she chose Madge. " I'll keep on trying 
 till I win her over," Katie said. 
 
 The first thing was to get the chance. A long 
 while Katie watched in vain for it ; but all comes 
 in good time to those who wait. One very gusty, 
 rainy morning, Katie, coming home from school, 
 caught sight of Madge ahead. She quickened pace, 
 in hopes of catching up with her ; but Madge was 
 hurrying, so that Katie almost had to run to gain 
 upon her ever such a little. 
 
 It was blowing quite a " capful," as the sailors 
 say, which made it difficult to push along so fast. 
 Every now and then she had to stop and let the
 
 t 
 
 WON OVER. 151 
 
 gusts go by; and once or twice her umbrella narrowly 
 escaped turning inside out. But then, of course, 
 Madge had the same difficulties to contend against, 
 so that the odds were pretty fair. At length, how- 
 ever, her footsteps reached Madge's ear, and she 
 looked round to see who might be following her. 
 
 Now Madge was at a sharp bend in the road, 
 and she forgot that when she turned the corner the 
 wind would blow the other way. Just when she 
 was completely off her guard the gust tore up, with 
 all the mischief that a gust can boast, rushed under 
 her umbrella, till all the spokes bent backward like 
 reeds before the flood, and seizing on her hat, in less 
 than no time had it whisked from off her head, and 
 capering along towards Katie through the puddles. 
 At the same instant the strap she carried in her 
 other hand gave way, and all her books went 
 tumbling in the mud. 
 
 Such a picture of vexation and dismay it is 
 difficult to conceive : the wrecked umbrella utterly 
 refusing to come down; the hat escaping like a 
 mad thing from a cage ; poor Madge her hair all 
 streaming in the wind and wet completely stupi- 
 fied, not knowing where to turn or what to do. 
 
 Katie dodged the hat, and caught it cleverly; 
 but it was too bedrabbled for any head to wear. 
 "What will you do ? " cried she, now joining Madge. 
 '' Come under my umbrella. You must" she cried,
 
 152 WON OVER. 
 
 as Madge refused. " Pick up the books ; there's 
 room for some of them in my satchel. Oh ! never 
 mind the mud. Mine are all covered ; so it won't 
 soil them." And chattering on good-naturedly, she 
 soon had half of them put up. 
 
 " You must carry these," she added " so. Now 
 take my arm, and keep as close against me as you 
 can, and we shall get along quite well." 
 
 Madge scarcely spoke a word the whole way 
 home, and that afternoon she did not go to school. 
 Her mother thought that one such wetting was 
 enough in one short day ; besides, she Tiad no hat 
 except her Sunday one. But next morning Katie 
 found Madge waiting in the cloak-room for her. 
 
 " I've covered all your books for you," said Katie, 
 as she put her satchel down ; " they were hardly 
 soiled inside. How's your hat ? " 
 
 But Madge, instead of answering, held out a little 
 packet towards her. " I never meant to be so 
 wicked," she stammered out ; " indeed, indeed I 
 didn't ! I found it on the road near Mrs. Bull's, 
 and thought I'd keep it back a little, just to tease. 
 I thought it would be fun. But afterwards I got 
 ashamed, and the longer I delayed the worse it was; 
 and there it is ; and please forgive me, Katie, and 
 get them all to let me join the ' band.' " 
 
 Katie gave a cry of glad surprise. It was her 
 lost locket, safe and sound. And Madge was won.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 A MERRY CHRISTMAS. 
 
 CHRISTMAS-EVE had come, and it was nearly 
 dark. 
 
 The night before, an inch or two of snow had 
 fallen ; but it lay only upon the roofs and round 
 the ledges of the chimney-pots. In the roadways 
 and on the pavements traffic and foot-passengers had 
 worn it into cold, wet slush. At dusk, however, 
 the clouds rolled back, a crust formed on the slush, 
 and there was every prospect of a bitter night. 
 
 Tab was looking out across the whitened tiles, 
 when Zillah climbed the stairs. There was a gleam 
 of firelight in the room a luxury not always to be 
 met with in a garret such as theirs ; but Tab had 
 turned away from that. She was thinking of the 
 Christmas-eve before, when there was not a bit of 
 fire in the grate, and nothing but dry bread to eat 
 nor much of that. Tab's was a grateful soul. 
 
 Zillah burst in, full of life. " My ! the shops are 
 lid, Tab," cried she. "Such a flare of gas,
 
 154 A MERRY CHRISTMAS. 
 
 and beef and geese and turkeys all made fine with 
 coloured ribbons blue and red. You can warm 
 your hands there while you look. And dolls, and 
 toys, and " Zillah ran on with a list of all the 
 wonders she had seen. " My feet ain't cold a bit 
 to-night," she added, glancing at her slushy boots, 
 " although it is so dirty underfoot." 
 
 Tab glanced down at the boots, which were stout 
 and strong. " Lots of other people's are, to-night," 
 said she. " God's very good to us, Zill, ain't he ? " 
 
 Zillah didn't answer this remark. " I saw some 
 lovely pudding in a window," she ran on " all 
 plums, and steaming hot. Tab, shouldn't you just 
 like a slice ? " 
 
 " P'raps father'll bring some, if he's lucky getting 
 jobs," said Tab. 
 
 " Most people have got something good to-night," 
 said Zillah, hooking up her jacket on a nail behind 
 the door. " They'll go out with their baskets pres- 
 ently, and spend." 
 
 "Not all," said Tab. "We hadn't anything to 
 spend last year. Some haven't this year, either." 
 
 Just as Tab said these words a sound of footsteps 
 on the stairs attracted their attention. " There's 
 dad," cried Zillah eagerly, running to the door. 
 Perhaps Tab had asked him to buy some pudding 
 for a treat. Zill's mouth had watered when she 
 saw it steaming there behind the glass.
 
 A MERRY CHRISTMAS. 155 
 
 Tab went to get the candle down ; but Zillah 
 uttered an astonished cry. It was not her father's 
 footsteps they had heard. Cautiously feeling his 
 way up in the dim light of the staircase was a man 
 whom Zillah did not know. He had a deal box 
 on his shoulder, and a hamper in one hand. 
 
 " Tab and Zillah Wimbly ? " asked he, stopping 
 at the door ; then, as Zillah nodded, he came right 
 in and set his load down on the floor. "And a 
 merry Christmas to you wi' 'em," he added, as he 
 turned to go. " There's summat good inside, that 
 many folks'd envy you to-night." 
 
 " Let's wait till father comes, to open 'em," was 
 Tab's idea ; but Zillah's fingers couldn't wait. She 
 was already on her knees, and pulling at the knots. 
 
 Zillah clapped her hands, and Tab's eyes filled 
 with tears, at sigTit of all the things they found 
 inside. Tea and sugar, butter, oatmeal, bacon, cheese; 
 a Christmas pudding, raisins,- figs, nuts, oranges ; and 
 on the top a lovely Christmas card. 
 
 " What's in the box ? " cried Zillah next. But 
 that was fastened up with nails instead of string. 
 They tried to force it open with a fork; but the 
 nails were in too deep. Tab got the little iron bar 
 that served as poker ; but that was twice too thick 
 to go into the crack. 
 
 Just then a gentle rap came at the door. There 
 stood a white-headed old gentleman, who looked as
 
 156 A MERRY CHRISTMAS. 
 
 if the snow had settled on his beard and hair ; but 
 yet his face was cheery as the summer sky as he 
 stepped in. 
 
 " A merry Christmas to you both, my dears," said 
 he. " I see you've got your packages all right. 
 I've come to tell you which to eat." 
 
 It was Miriam's great -uncle Merry, who had 
 undertaken the purchase of the stocking -knitter, 
 and followed in its train to explain its use and 
 show them how it worked.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 "PEACE ON EARTH, GOOD WILL TOWARD 
 MEN:' 
 
 HRISTMAS morning. Miriam had looked at 
 V, __ / all her Christmas cards, and breakfasted, 
 and fed the birds that flocked down to the kitchen 
 door for crumbs ; then, cozily wrapped up, she ran. 
 out in the cold, keen air. 
 
 Great-uncle Merry was expected by-and-by, tc 
 eat his Christmas dinner with them ; but he had 
 helped to give breakfast to some hundred little waifs 
 and strays that morning, so he could not come until 
 the mid-day train. 
 
 First Miriam went and looked at all her hen- 
 house pets. She found them fluffed up like great 
 feather balls in a sheltered nook where they could 
 see the sun, although it failed to reach them with 
 its feeble rays. " You'd better run about by half, 
 you silly things ! " said she, scattering them right 
 and left. Then off she tripped to follow out her
 
 158 PEACE ON EARTH. 
 
 own advice, whilst the hens crept back indig- 
 nant to their strip of sunshine underneath the 
 fence. 
 
 Every splash of water in the stable-yard was 
 frozen solid, and a fringe of white was on each 
 jutting ledge. The frost had seized upon the damp 
 that rose at sunset overnight, and fixed it there. 
 It glistened in the light like powdered diamond. 
 Every grass blade in the field was white with it ; 
 and the path, which yesterday was thick with mud, 
 was firm and hard as a rock. Miriam ran to the 
 plantation gate, unlatched it, and slipped through. 
 She had not been there since her birthday picnic 
 party ended so unhappily. But there was no fear 
 of adders now. The dry leaves crackled under foot, 
 the bare boughs overhead were hung with icicles 
 like fairy stalactites, and Miriam's voice rang out 
 among the trees for very joy of heart. For the 
 winter sky was blue above her head, and she was 
 well and strong again. 
 
 " Dick and Harry and Tom," 
 
 she sang 
 
 " Dick and Harry and Tom, 
 They teased the dog, and worried the cat, 
 And drowned the kittens in their grandfather's hat, 
 Did Dick and Harry and Tom." 
 
 Suddenly Miriam stopped short. She had not 
 been thinking what she sang. The plantation had
 
 PEACE ON EARTH. 159 
 
 somehow put the words into her head. But as she 
 stopped another voice took up the tune. 
 
 " Kit and Mirry and Tom," 
 
 it sang 
 
 " Kit and Mirry and Tom, 
 They teased each other instead of the cat, 
 And lived ly the rule of ' tit for tat,' 
 Did Kit and Mirry and Tom." 
 
 And up jumped Tom Rivers, with both arms on the 
 fence, and Katie at his side. 
 
 But Tom and Katie were not Miriam's only 
 audience. 
 
 " Nice young people to be starting a Band of 
 Kindness," called Uncle Merry's voice jocosely from 
 the plantation gate. 
 
 The brave old gentleman, having caught an 
 earlier train, had just arrived, and finding his 
 nephew-in-law out and Mrs. Grayson busy with 
 cook, he had come to look for Miriam to take him 
 for a walk, to whet his appetite for dinner. 
 
 Ten minutes later Tom and Katie had been in- 
 doors with them to have some biscuits and warm 
 milk; and the four were on the road a happy 
 quartet. They talked of Uncle Merry's " band," 
 and of his waifs and strays, and heard of Tab 
 and Zillah's great delight at all the good things 
 they had sent, not least of all the stocking-knitter, 
 by means of which they hoped to earn so much.
 
 160 PEACE ON EARTH. 
 
 Gradually the sun rose higher in the sky, and 
 smiled across the frost-bound earth, till icicles and 
 frost-work all gave way before his smile. And 
 Uncle Merry said that it was like the smile of love, 
 that melts the frost of selfishness and scatters seeds 
 of kindness in dark lives the Love that came into 
 this world that Christmas morn when angels sang 
 their song of " peace on earth." 
 
 THE END,
 
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