Maud's Boy, and other tales

Front matter

MAUD'S BOY, AND OTHEB TALES. MAUD'S BOY, AND OTHER TALES. INA MOBE, 1\ AUTHOR OF "TWILIGHT STORIES." S. W. PAETEIDGE AND CO., 9, PATERNOSTER ROW. UNWIN UliOTHERS, PRINTERS, CHILWORTH AND LONDON. CONTENTS. JVIaud'^ Boy. CHAP. PAGE I. HOMEWARD BOUND 1 II. A FAMILY GROUP 5 III. " OVER THERE " 9 IV. PETIT PIERRE 14 V. JACK'S DISCOVERY 19 VI. MARIE GUIBON 24 VII. WAYS AND MEANS 30 VIII. SELF-SACRIFICE 34 IX. maud's plan 39 X. FRIENDS IN NEED 44 XI. MAISON DIEU 48 XII. maud's BOY 53 XIII. GOING TO SEA 56 XIV. A STRANGER 59 XV. THE STORM 62 XVI. little Charlie's preserver CONTENTS. VI JVIeq JVIartin. CHAP. PAGE I. EXCELSIOR 73 II. THE UNHAPPY BIRTHDAY 89 III. BADLY BEGUN, SADLY ENDED 103 Heatherstone Hall. I. MISPLACED GENEROSITY 115 II. MARY AND HUGH 123 III. TOGETHER AGAIN '. 128 IV. THE OLD WOMAN'S STORY 134 V. AMY 143 VI.

IN THE COTTAGE 147 VII. may's passion 152 VIII. AMY GOES TO HER MOTHER MAUD'S BOY. CHAPTEE I. HOMEWARD BOUND. iP?HE short winter day was drawing to a close Qg)- as a merry party wound their way through the snowy lanes towards home. Evidently the day spent in skating had in no way tired their tongues, as their cheery voices were heard far off, arguing, joking, and laughing. The party consisted of Maud and Agnes Conyers, girls of sixteen and fourteen, their brother Charlie, aged seventeen, and several friends of their own age. They lived in one of those towns on the French coast where English colonies are to be found, and were close companions. "Pax! " called out Maud, as a large snow ball, aimed at her back, sent her staggering into a snowdrift at the side of the road. From her frosted appearance she had evidently been the target of the party for some time, and she ought to have earned the peace for which she pantingly cried out.

But little heed was paid to her pathetic appeal, and a fresh onslaught was made by the enemy, until Maud, offering no resistance to the combined attack, disarmed her foes by her passive submission. She shook off all marks of ber defeat, which had been so glorious that it amounted almost to a victory, and proceeded as merrily as the others towards the house and tea, awaiting them. It was no wonder that Maud was chosen as the victim in snowballing, as she was in all their games. Her face was always radiant with brightness and smiles, and the sound of her sweet soft voice was loved by all who heard it. Beside this, there was a look in her dark-fringed, honest grey eyes and tender mouth, that made those hardest to please acknowledge " that there was a charm about her." Her sister Agnes, though really much prettier, never drew forth the same remarks.

Chapter I

excelsior ! EEG MARTIN had a most unhappy knack of getting into trouble, or "Meg's scrapes," as they were called in the house. Do what she would, she said, something occurred to lead her astray. A hundred times a week she re solved that the mischief which she had been just guilty of should be the last ; as often, some fun rose between her and her resolution, and she got into some fresh scrape. One midsummer, during her brother's holidays, she had managed to be in perpetual hot water, and the forgiving powers of the whole household were severely tried. But for this unhappy propensity of Meg's, she wotdd have borne the best of characters. She was obliging, kind, willing, and obedient — when she was not in mischief ! One afternoon she was standing at the schoolroom window, watching some children playing in the road : she was envying their apparent freedom.

They might roll in the dust in their shabby clothes, and no one would find fault with them for " making their dresses dirty." They had such a wide field for working off their energy ; while if she attempted to do that, the result would inevit ably be some scrape, a good scolding, subse quent remorse — then the same thing repeated the next day. She at last found herself wishing she had no relations, or servants ; and awaking from her envying fit, lectured herself on the naughtiness of encouraging such thoughts — how wrong it was of her, and how very inconvenient it would be, after all, without them. But how nice it would be not to be perpetually in disgrace ! Meg heaved a deep sigh, loud enough to reach the ears of her sister Emily, as she came into the room. Meg had two grown-up sisters, Emily and Grace, and one younger than herself, Constance.

These, with two brothers, constituted the family of Mr. and Mrs. Martin. The boys, Horace and Frank, were at home for the holidays, but were at the present moment away with their father on a walking excursion. When at home they aided and abetted Meg in mischief, generally contriving, though, that she should be the one found out ! excelsior ! 75 Emily looked surprised at seeing her sister standing idly gazing out of the window, and feared, what was generally the case when she was in the least inactive, that she was not well. "What is it, Meg?" she said, putting her hand affectionately on the child's curly head. "Nothing." " Then nothing must be a very unpleasant thing, if it caused you to sigh like that." " Well, it wasn't exactly nothing, Emily. I was wishing I could be like the street children, and never be scolded."

Emily sat dovm on the broad window-ledge, and put her arm round her little sister. " That remark, Meg dear, contains one of two ideas I should like to talk to you about. I came here expressly to say something to you, and we can include them. First, why do you wish to be like one of those children ? We will count up all the things they are fortunate in having, and then we will count those you are in possession of, and we will see who has the advantage in that sum." Meg agreed willingly. This sounded like some new game, and she felt certain of being the winner. " Now Meg, begin." " They can do as they like." " Are you quite sure of that ?" asked Emily. " Why they wouldn't be out there always if they couldn't !" answered Meg, wondering at the implied doubt. " They may do that one thing because it fits in with the family arrangements.

Many of them, you know, live in houses in which there is not room for them, except at night, when they are packed close together to sleep. The only place for them, if they are not at school, is out of doors, and mothers are only too glad to send them there; but do not suppose from that they are always able to follow their own wishes. Have you never heard angry voices, and blows given, when you have passed the places where these children live ?" Meg had forgotten all about that. She could remember now harsh words, and stronger arguments, in the shape of knocks, adminis tered freely to make these children " mind " what their parents said. " If they can't do as they like, Emily, they are able to be out playing about on the nice warm days, while I can only get out now and then — not half as much as I want.

There are always lessons to be done, or learnt ; or we mustn't stay out any longer in the heat ; or we must rest, because we are going to take a long excelsior ! 77 walk with Miss Royston late in the afternoon ; and we get so little play and fun ! " Emily smiled. " Your description is very pitiful, but in spite of it I see you very often enjoying yourself thoroughly ; and I hear you say, as often, ' We have been having such fun !' For the sake of argument I will admit that those children Live more in the sunshine, perhaps, than you do — which I think is your present grievance. But when bad weather comes, and the long, cold winter, who fares the best — you or those children ? " Meg looked thoughtful. She was veiy anxious to win in this game, but she could not deny that warm clothes and glowing fires were preferable to thin, worn-out garments, and a larger amount of cold air than could possibly be pleasant.

" I think I may count your answer as one on my side," said Emily. "It is nicer in a house like this than in one of those holey cottages, when it is very cold, I suppose,"' admitted Meg; "but then it must be so jolly playing in the snow as much as they like," she continued, in a more confident tone. " Particularly with fingers and toes covered with chilblains, and with hungry appetites which have no chance of being satisfied. Another to me, Meg ! Then when illness comes, brought on by exposure to heat or cold, and insufficient food or clothes, how do they fare ? I need not remind you of all the care taken of you when you are ailing ; of the delicacies provided to tempt you to eat ; of the books and games bought, to while away time when you are getting better." "I give up, Emily, I won't envy those children any more."

" That's right. I advise you to add that you will always try to do what you can to make their lot happier. I did not come, hoAV ever, to talk about those children ; but you and I must be quick, for fear I should not have you to myself much longer." Emily took her sister's face between her hands, and began speaking again with mock solemnity. " Meg ! Meg ! what will become of you, if you don't change your ways ? I have just heard of another crime. What could possibly have led you to get into the water-butt with your clothes on ? Jane says if she had come a few minutes later, you would have been drowned." " I only wanted to see how being half drowmed felt," said Meg, energetically. " Mr. Jones said the other day, that when his brother was nearly drowned everything that had happened to him came into his head.

I EXCELSIOR ! 79 thought I should like to remember like that, and know what I did when I was a baby, and fancied I should be able to climb out when I had had enough." This was too much for Emily's gravity, .and Meg was relieved when her sister's laughter stopped the scolding. Do what Emily would, she could not lecture Meg seriously, after her remark, so she gave up the attempt. " Well, I hope you were uncomfortable enough to punish you. Now you have arrived, like Laura in ' Holiday House,' at your ' last clean frock.' Jane told me how she had put it on, instead of sending you to bed till the time came to dress for dessert, on your promising to remain quiet till Miss Royston and Constance returned from their walk. As I know how much you have really vexed mother lately, I have come to beg you to try to turn over a new leaf, and to begin at once, by appearing spotless at dessert this evening.

Meg looked very penitent, as she stood in a melancholy attitude, resting on one leg, like a disconsolate chicken. " I do try hard, Emily, really," she began. "Don't only try to-day, but determine to do it. I am responsible for your good behaviour for a few hours, as mother felt you ought to be punished by not coming down with Constance to-night ; but I begged so hard for you, that she said she would forgive you." Not to have gone to dessert that evening would have been a real trial to Meg. There was to be a large dinner-party, and among the guests was a Major Bell — a particular favourite of Meg's — and she looked forward to the funny stories and petting to which he always treated her. She thanked Emily gratefully, and promised to be good and keep clean till dinner time. When left alone, Meg's resolution was so strong that she felt quite as if she had suc cessfully kept it.

As there was no appearance of Miss Royston's — the daily governess — and Constance's return, she sat down to read, but that she found too hard work this fine afternoon. She was afraid of studying the window again just then, so after sitting still with her arms folded for a little while, she made up her mind to go to the playroom and set the doll's house to rights. That would be a nice clean occupation, and as the room was little used at that time of year, except on hopelessly wet days, she felt sure she should find enough to interest and employ her till Constance returned, and tea was ready. EXCELSIOR ! 81 The playroom was a large garret, lighted by a skylight, up to which the children often looked with longing eyes. They could just see a bit of roof rising on one side : all the rest was blue sky or clouds.

They used to wish to peep out, but the skylight was high above their heads, and when the one chair, stools, and everything enlisted into the heightening purpose, w7ere mounted, reckless of the chance of broken limbs, it seemed almost as far away as ever. Meg walked leisurely upstairs, instead of having her customary rush, partly to show any one who might hear her that she was soberly inclined, and partly to pass time. On opening the playroom door, she stood transfixed. What could be the cause ? The room contained the usual paraphernalia of a playroom, the usual amount of rubbish dear to children, a swing, rocking-horse, and general disorder ; but there surely was no thing in all this to account for Meg's stayed footsteps and eager gaze. In the middle of the room, slanting up towards the open skylight, stood a ladder !

All Meg's resolution vanished, for she never gave it a thought as soon as she saw this key to the fairyland. In less time than it takes to tell, she was climbing the ladder, and had her head poked out of the skylight : she then paused for a moment, and the next, jumped out on the roof. When there, her joy knew no bounds. Such a charming prospect of slates; such a forest of chimneys — between which distant glimpses could be caught of the sea, dotted over with what looked like large seagulls, but which were in reality boats, and glis tening as though millions of jewels were imprisoned in its dancing wavelets — had never even been dreamt of ; and Meg hugged herself with delight, as she gazed on the novel prospect before her. After surveying the roofs of the surround ing houses, to try to identify them with the outsides she was daily accustomed to see, she extended her walk from the few slates close to the skylight to where the roof sloped towards the chimney, from which spot she discovered that by craning her neck to its utmost, and standing on tiptoe, she could see the corner of the street in which they lived.

Two or three capers testified her delight. It was so jolly to watch the little figures beneath ; the tiny carriage, which drove up to a shop, looking about the size EXCELSIOR ! 83 of one to be found in one of those boxes of tin toys brought from Germany. It seemed absurd that the horses could really move, and the people really walk. After this had had a fair share of attention, Meg turned her eyes skyward : the result this time was not quite so pleasing. To enjoy the prospect better, Meg had walked back wards a few steps, and tripping over a loose slate, fell down, her head coming in contact with the roof with what she considered most unnecessary violence. The fall added a great many black spots to those already collected on her white muslin dress, and Meg looked rueful as she glanced at it ; but the knock on her head had rather stunned her, and therefore she did not fully realise that her chances of going to dessert, and seeing Major Bell, were rapidly diminishing.

By the time her head had ceased to pain, Meg had made up her mind to climb that part of the roof which slanted up to a stack of chimneys. The perilous ascent was made on her hands and knees, and her chuckles of contentment proved what gratification the crawling up gave her. She imagined herself to be climbing the summit of a snow-clad mountain, and encouraged and cheered her self on through slips, which pulled out gathers 7* and added fresh marks to the unfortunate dress, till, triumphant, she reached the chimney. Flushed from exertion and the pleasure of her achievement — which had been a really dangerous one for the child ; black with the soot of years, which settled on her till she looked like an amateur sweep ; her hair ruffled like a lion's mane ; she presented an unequalled picture of dirt and delight.

After ensconcing herself with her back com fortably against the chimney, she proceeded to look round her, monarch of all she surveyed ! How charming ! She could see right into the garret windows of some houses opposite, and inspect what their occupants were doing. Intently she pursued her investigations, till the monotonous muffled sounds coming from the streets below, and the afternoon heat, lulled her to sleep. There she stayed, luckily squeezed in between two chimney pots, dreaming peace fully — for how long, she never knew. As if in accordance with her unwonted resting place, her dreams took strange shapes, wan dering through all the realms of fancyland. At last she was in an enchanted palace, in a room, the walls of which were studded with precious stones; the windows were of crystal, and the furniture was proportionately lovely.

EXCELSIOR ! 85 She was reclining on a couch covered with purple velvet embroidered with pearls. Beautiful slaves were fanning her, and others, equally beautiful, brought dishes of rare fruit and choice sweetmeats. In the midst of all this splendour and luxury, there came at last a disturbing element. An enemy of hers, a black witch, who lived near, had managed to make her way across the grounds, and her voice was heard, uttering dreadful threats, coming nearer and nearer. In spite of all the resistance the guards offered, she mounted a ladder — suspiciously like the one of the playroom — and thrusting her head through one of the crystal panes, said, "Miss Meg, you will be killed up there ! " In a second Meg was wide awake, and in stead of the witch, there stood Jane, the maid, purple with indignation and fear — partly for herself, on the top of the rickety ladder, and partly for tiresome Meg.

" Stay where you are ! " she screamed, as Meg stood up. The child was in a great fright, and thought she might put off the evil day of getting into Jane's clutches by going round the stack of chimneys. Jane knew, which she did not, that on the other side the descent from the chimney to the edge of the roof was abrupt ; there was no flat roof there ; a false step would cause Meg's death. Jane looked so frightened, that Meg did as she was told. Then began a lively conversa tion. Jane could not persuade Meg to come down the way she had gone up. She feared leaving her, to fetch any one else to use force, as Meg might, in her absence, carry out her first intention. In despair she promised Meg forgiveness, without punishment. Then, and then only, would she come down. The sun had sunk to rest since Meg first mounted, and all that was left to show he had been, were the soft rosy tints which dwelt lovingly on sky and sea, loth to go and give up the fair world to silver night.

Meg hardly noticed how time had passed, as she arranged herself to slide down towards the skylight in a most ungraceful attitude. As soon as her feet arrived first within Jane's clutches, they were seized with a grip of iron. All persuasion on Jane's part vanished directly she and Meg were on the same footing. " You bad child, you deserve a good whip ping ; but I know what I'll do — I will expose you to every one ! " Jane spoke in such an angry, vindictive way, that Meg shivered in her shoes. What could she intend doing ? EXCELSIOR ! 87 Down the ladder Meg was bundled, no longer a heroine scaling a lofty mountain, but a sooty little child, tear-stained and woe begone. "Please, Jane, let me go to bed!" she cried ; in her dread, begging for the punish ment she generally most disliked. She thought then the worst would have come, and that she might hide her diminished head under the bedclothes.

As usual, now all the fun was over, and the punishment impending as the just result, she realised how naughty she had been ; and remorse poured such tears from her eyes, that a sooty stream actually ran down the front of her dress, adding, if possible, to her miserable appearance. As they got near the dining-room, Meg could hear the sounds of laughter and merry voices : her heart fell as Constance's tones — mingled most uncom fortably with Major Bell's, poor Meg thought — rose above the rest. What could Jane intend doing with her ? She was not left in doubt much longer. She was marched up to the dining-room door, which was thrown open by the relentless Jane, and in spite of all resistance, Meg was half pulled, half pushed, into the presence of those at dinner. Words fail to convey the extent of Meg's hot shame and wretchedness.

All voices were stilled as the dreadfully crumpled, miserable little figure was brought in ; and the child felt as if a thousand fierce eyes were glaring at her. If the floor would only open and let her through ! But floors, in spite of wishes, seldom do. Misery had however reached its climax, and Meg felt as though she should stay there rooted to the spot for ever. She heard — she did not dare look up to see what effect it produced- — the story of how and where she had been found recounted by Jane: she heard what she fancied were ejaculations of horror from all assembled, but which in reality were more remarks of relief at her escape, mingled with pity and amusement. But all this she did not know. A voice at last broke the spell : it was Major BeU's. " Mrs. Martin, I think Meg has had her trial ; may I be the judge, and give the sentence ?

" An arm was thrown round poor Meg, re gardless of her appearance, and she was drawn close to Major Bell's side. " Really, she has behaved so exceedingly badly," said Mrs. Martin, " when she promised to be good, and to be fit to come to dessert, especially to see you this evening, Major Bell. I hardly know what to say about her yet." A whisper from Emily pleaded with Major Bell's, and Mrs. Martin said, " Well, as Meg's fault has already, I think, in some degree, brought its own punishment, I will allow you to do the rest." What Major Bell said only Meg and he knew ; it was evidently something that light ened the load pressing so hard on Meg's heart; but her serious face till she went to bed showed that he had given some sound advice. It was not all fun that he poured into the child's ears.

Major Bell afterwards made a great name as a brave soldier, and the Victoria Cross on his breast told of deeds of valour and hu manity ; but he never did, Meg thought, a kinder or more humane thing, than when he raised the poor little naughty girl from the depths of despair that evening.

Chapter II. The Unhappy Birthday

" I hate the rain," said Constance, puckering her round face up into as near a picture of woe as she could manage. " So do I," echoed Frank, cutting deeper into the piece of wood he was carving into a boat. In passing, we must remark that Frank's boats were of the wildest shapes and forms, and had any one, even to the smallest and ugliest of Constance's dolls, attempted to go to sea in one of them, it would richly have deserved the fate which it was sure to meet. But these boats were things of joy to Frank, and he was seldom seen in the holidays with out one on hand. What became of them eventually, no one knew. At times a few old ones used to turn up in such nice convenient places as his sisters' bonnet-boxes, and under the chintz covers of the drawing-room chairs. Those were confiscated and burnt, but it was painful to dwell on what became of the rest.

Whether they haunted the homes and beds of his schoolfellows or not, we are unprepared to say. Horace and Meg made no remarks on the state of the weather, though they disliked as much as the others the steady patter, patter, on the slates outside, and the huge drops which coursed down the skylight. The whole morning had the hard-hearted clouds opened their gates, to shut the doors of children below. This was holiday time, and never did idle ness sit more heavily on children than on the four in the playroom. Most gladly would they have hailed the entrance of any one who held the magic wand of occupation, even though they came in the shape of Miss Royston and lessons. Why7 should a few hours of bad weather have exhausted the stock of indoor pleasures? An answer was apparent in Meg and Horace.

The demons ill-humour and discontent had found empty thrones in the minds of the two children. Constance and Frank did not appear to be harbouring the same monarchs ; at all events, on their own account. Bad feelings, though, have a most uncomfortable way of making others than those in possession of them unhappy ; they cover a whole party with a wet blanket, and those now together were all suffering from their influence. "I say, Meg," at last remarked Horace, in a tone of reconciliation. Patter, patter, went the rain outside, but not a word said Meg to break the silence : her face was as expressionless as though she had not heard her brother. " I say, Meg," came a httle louder and mo:. impatiently. A gleam of something like pleasure at the annoyance she was causing showed itself this time in Meg's face, but she still gave no active signs of hearing.

"I think you are very unkind to Horace," remarked Constance, with a plaintive whine in her voice ; " I am sure he never meant." " I don't care what he meant; I know what he did," broke out Meg ; "and I shan't forgive him ! " " Oh, Meg ! " exclaimed Constance, unable to say more, the torrent of Meg's wrath having broken forth. She sincerely wished she had held her tongue, as she looked at her sister's red cheeks and angry eyes. Horace was so bent on reconciliation that he braved Meg's look, and put his arm round her. She would not notice it. " I'm awfully sorry; but you know I didn't think they would have been so horrid, and I really forgot I had promised not to teLl. I will do anything I can to make up for it ; I am so sorry. I say, I will go to Marlowe's and get you that white moss rose you liked so when we went there with father.

Do forgive me ! " " I won't have the rose, and I won't forgive you ! " said the angry sister. This was Meg's birthday. In the Martin family birthdays were kept, and for some time before each one mysterious whisperings and consultations went on, to which the lucky individual whose birthday was coming was supposed not to lend an ear. Horace was Meg's pet brother, and he was as fond of her, so he was allowed a sight of all the presents prepared for her, on his promising not to tell her about them. He had no doubt as to the joy they would give, as he saw them laid out ready to be presented next morning. As a rule, the younger ones were not allowed to know what the others' gifts were, so Horace was in great glee at being in the secret. He was so happy and knowing, and made so many sug gestive remarks about the next day, that Meg found out he had been made an exception to the rule, and plied him with questions.

He did not for a moment intend breaking his word ; indeed, to the very last he hardly knew he had done so ; but a number of leading questions were put, and when Meg said she supposed so and-so was going to give her such a thing, he could not help saying " no " or looking guilty ; so that before Meg went to bed she was pretty well aware of what to expect next morning. Now this was the very thing her relations did not wish. They were people who liked sur prises, and it took away their pleasure in giving if they thought a particular thing was expected. Horace and Meg's little confabrdations had been noticed, and the cause was arrived at. Early on the birthday, just before the hour of presentation arrived, Horace was called into the room in which were the gifts and his eldest sisters, who at once asked if he had said any thing to Meg about them.