The Oriel Window Part 18

"Yes, sir," he said obediently. "There'll be no more cla.s.ses then, I suppose?" he added sadly. "Is Jesse not even to come as far as Bollins?"

"Not at present," replied Mr. Ross, and then, feeling sorry for the little fellow, he added: "If your mother can spare you, you may come over here to-morrow and have your Sunday dinner with your cousin in the servants' hall."

Both boys' faces shone with pleasure.

"And will you tell the lads, Barney," said Jesse, "how it's all been.

And what I minded most was their things being spoilt."

Barney's face grew melancholy again.

"Don't look so downhearted," said Mr. Ross. "We won't forget you and the other boys. Your work has already done you great credit."

Ferdy's lips opened as if he were about to speak, but the little fellow had learnt great thoughtfulness of late, and he wisely decided that what he had to say had better be kept till he was alone with his parents.

Just then Christine made her appearance, very eager to know more about the constable's visit and the exciting events of the afternoon. So Mrs.

Ross left her with her brother while she herself took the two boys downstairs to put them into the housekeeper's charge for tea, of which both struck her as decidedly in need.

"Papa," said Ferdy, when he had finished going over the whole story again for his sister's benefit, "don't you think if Jesse has to go away that _I_ might take on the cla.s.s, one or two evenings a week any way?

Mr. Brock might come sometimes--extra, you know--just to see how they were getting on. And they would be quite safe here, and n.o.body would dare to spoil their things."

"And Miss Lilly and I would help," said Christine eagerly. "There are some of them, Jesse has told us, that want to learn other things--not only wood-carving--that _we_ could help them with. Miss Lilly's been having lessons herself in basket-making."

"Dr. Lilly has reason to be proud of his granddaughter," said Mr. Ross warmly. "We must talk it all over. It would certainly seem a terrible pity for the poor fellows to lose what they have gained, not merely in skill, but the good habit of putting to use some of their leisure hours--miners have so much idle time."

"There's the big empty room downstairs near the servants' hall," said Ferdy. "Could not I be carried down there, papa?"

Mr. Ross hesitated. He felt doubtful, but anxious not to disappoint the boy, for as his eyes rested on the fragile little figure and he realised what Ferdy's future life might be, he could not but think to himself how happy and healthy a thing it was that his child should be so ready to interest himself in others, instead of becoming self-engrossed and discontented.

"We must see what Mr. Stern says," he replied, "and--yes, it will soon be time for the other doctor's visit. It would be a long walk from Draymoor for the lads."

"_They_ wouldn't mind," said Ferdy decisively.

"And now and then," said Christine, "we might give them tea for a treat--once a month or so. Oh! it would be lovely!"

CHAPTER XII

ANOTHER BIRTHDAY

Again a spring morning, only two or three years ago. Evercombe and the Watch House look much as they did when we first saw them; one could fancy that but a few months instead of ten years had pa.s.sed since then.

The swallows are there, established in their summer quarters above the oriel window, the same and yet not the same, though their chirping voices may, for all we know, be telling of the little boy who for so long lay on his couch below, and loved them so well.

He is not there now, nor is his couch in its old place. Instead of the small white face and eager blue eyes, there stands at the post of observation a tall young girl, a very pretty girl, with a bright flush of happy expectancy on her fair face.

"Mamma, mamma," she exclaims to some one farther in the shade of the room. "I think I hear wheels. Surely it will be they this time! If it isn't I really shan't have patience to stand here any longer."

But "this time" her hopes were fulfilled. Another moment and a carriage, which Christine, for Christine of course it was, quickly recognised as their own, turned in at the lodge gates. And before those inside had time to look up at the window, Chrissie had flown downstairs followed by her mother.

"Ferdy, Ferdy," she exclaimed, as the carriage-door opened, and her brother, his face flushed with pleasure equal to her own, got out, slowly, and with a little help from his father, for the young man was slightly lame, though his face told of health and fair strength. He was sunburnt and manly looking, full of life and happy eagerness.

"Isn't he looking well, mamma?" said Chrissie, when the first loving greetings had sobered down a little.

"And haven't I grown?" added Ferdy, drawing himself up for approval.

"And isn't it delightful that I managed to get back on my birthday after all?"

"Yes, indeed, my darling," said Mrs. Ross; while his father gently placed his hand on the young fellow's shoulder, repeated her words--"yes, indeed! When we think of this day--how many years ago!

Ten?--yes, it must be ten--you were nine then, Ferdy, how very, unutterably thankful we should be to have you as you are."

"And to judge by my looks you don't know the best of me," said Ferdy. "I can walk ever so far without knocking up. But oh! what heaps of things we have to talk about!"

"Come in to breakfast first," said his mother. "It is ten o'clock, and after travelling all night you must be a little tired."

"I am really not, only very hungry," said Ferdy, as he followed her into the dining-room, where the happy party seated themselves round the table.

Ferdy had been away, abroad, for nearly two years, both for study and for health's sake, and the result was more than satisfactory.

School-life had been impossible for him, for the effect of his accident had been but very slowly outgrown. Slowly but surely, however, for now at nineteen, except for his slight lameness, he was perfectly well, and able to look forward to a busy and useful life, though the exact profession he was now to prepare himself for, was not yet quite decided upon. A busy and useful and happy life it promised to be, with abundance of interests for his leisure hours. He was no genius, but the tastes which he had had special opportunity for cultivating through his boyhood, were not likely to fail him as he grew up. And in many a dull and sunless home would they help him to bring something to cheer the dreary sameness of hard-working lives. They had done so already, more than he as yet knew.

Breakfast over and his old haunts revisited, Mrs. Ross at last persuaded him and his sister to join her on the lawn, where she had established herself with her work for the rest of the morning.

"This is to be a real holiday, Ferdy," she said. "Chrissie and I have been looking forward to it for so long. We have nothing to do but to talk and listen."

"I have heaps to tell," said Ferdy, "but even more to ask. My life in Switzerland was really awfully jolly in every way, but I'll tell you all about it by degrees; besides, I did write long letters, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," said his mother and Chrissie together; "you have been very good about letters all the time."

"Of course," began Ferdy, after a moment or two's silence, "the thing I want to hear most about is how the cla.s.ses have all been getting on. You kept me pretty well posted up about them, but in your last letters there was some allusion I didn't quite understand--something that the Mayhews have been trying to arrange."

Christine glanced at her mother.

"I may tell him, mayn't I, mamma? Now that it is all settled? It is not only the Mayhews' doing, but Jesse Piggot's too." And as Ferdy's face lightened up at the mention of his friend's name--"He hasn't told you about it himself, surely?" in a tone of some disappointment. "I know that he wrote you long letters regularly, but I thought he understood that we wanted to keep this new thing as a surprise for you when you came back."

Ferdy looked puzzled.

"He hasn't told me anything special except about himself. The last big piece of news, since of course it was all settled about his getting that capital berth at Whittingham, that Brock was so delighted about--the last big piece of news was his getting the order for the carved reredos at Cowlingsbury Abbey. But that was some time ago!"

"Oh yes," said Christine, "we have got over the excitement about that.

Though when you think of it," she went on thoughtfully, "it is wonderful to realise how Jesse has got on."

"And is going to get on," added Mrs. Ross. "And without flattery, Ferdy dear, we may say that it is greatly, very greatly owing to you."

Ferdy's face grew red with pleasure.

"I can't quite see that," he said. "Genius must make its own way. But do tell me the _new_ news, Chrissie."

"It is that Mr. Mayhew has got ground and money and everything for a sort of,--we don't know what to call it yet--'Inst.i.tute' is such an ugly word, we must think of something prettier,--a sort of art college at Draymoor for the afternoon and evening cla.s.ses. It won't be on a large scale. It would spoil it if it were, and a great part of their work can still be done at home, which is of course the real idea of it all. But this little college will really be for teaching what, up to now, has had to be done in odd rooms here and there."