CHAPTER XI.

Frank's Gift.

DICK WOODBRIDGE was spending the Saturday afternoon, which happened to be a very wet one, with the Bannister boys and girls in the large playroom at The Gables. Teddy and Frank were inclined to be irritable, and Eileen had all her work cut out to keep peace between them.

"I say, you two," said Dick presently, seeing that the boys were very near a quarrel, "do keep your hair on! I've got something to tell you if you'll only listen."

"What is it?" asked Eileen, feeling very grateful to Dick for his timely interruption.

"There's a big show coming off at the Shire Hall at Chelsford soon in aid of the County Hostel for Soldiers, and Uncle Nat is taking no end of interest in it. He says that everybody ought to give or do something."

"When is it to be?" asked Nora.

"Oh, in about a fortnight or so, and I've been puzzling my head what to give. For the life of me, I can't think of anything."

"You might give away those freckles on the tip of your nose without missing 'em," said Teddy, his temper feeling a bit better.

Dick grinned; he was quite used now to the chaff and fun of his young companions.

"I know what I can do," said Nora. "I'll send one of my Persian kittens for sale—the one I don't want to keep."

"Very generous of you," laughed Frank teasingly.

"And you can give Frisky, your fox terrier puppy," went on Nora. "I dare say he'd sell for something."

"Sell Frisky!" exclaimed Frank. "I think I see myself. Why I wouldn't part with Frisky for five pounds—no, not for ten!"

"You needn't worry yourself, old chap," here spoke Teddy; "you're not likely to be offered 'that' for a mongrel like him! I know what I'll give," he added, "and that is a couple of my rabbits. Between us we ought to raise something."

The chat had now drifted into quite a smooth channel, and the rest of the afternoon passed away without any further bickering.

It was about a week later, and Frank was in deep thought. He was alone in the garden, and a struggle was going on within his heart.

"I wonder," he said to himself, "if I'm a 'very' selfish pig! All the others have given something to the sale, and I've got nothing to give except Frisky, and I just simply can't spare the little chap."

At this moment Frisky, as though he knew he was in his master's thoughts, bounded to Frank's side. The boy stooped down and fondled his pet.

"You little know," said he, "what I've been thinking about. But there, I shan't think of it any more. There 'll be plenty of people to give without me."

But still Frank's mind was not easy. A text his mother had taught him when he was quite a little fellow kept coming into his mind. "Even Christ pleased not Himself."

"I hate to be selfish," was his unspoken thought; "only horrid people are selfish. I suppose I shall have to give him, after all."

Little as Frank realized it, the golden thread of his mother's influence was leading him into the path of self-sacrifice.

A few days later Frank, owing to a neglected cold, was on the sick list and under the doctor's care. And so it befell that it was Teddy who took Frisky (Frank specially wished it, though it was hard to say good-bye to his pet) to the Shire Hall at Chelsford for sale on behalf of the hostel.

"Five shillings for a fox terrier!" The auctioneer, Mr. Fleet by name, looked around the crowded room as he spoke. "Come now, aren't you going to offer me more than that? I want ten times that amount," he declared, "not a penny less!"

Frisky, the fox terrier in question, who was perched on a chair near the speaker, here gave a little yelp as though he too had something to say upon the subject.

"I reckon, sir, 'want' will have to be your master!" cried a voice from the audience.

"I think not," replied Mr. Fleet. "Suppose now I tell you the story of Frisky, this fox terrier. He is the gift of a little lad who prized him above all his possessions. The tale is true, for I heard it from one who knows him well."

Dick Woodbridge, as it happened, had told Mr. Fleet all about it.

"He was afraid of being selfish," went on Mr. Fleet, "so he gave of his best. It isn't every one of us who could say that, is it?

"There is just one thing more I would like you to know, and I'm sure you will be sorry to hear it—Frisky's little master is lying ill, and for his sake, as well as for the good cause, I ask you to be liberal."

Scarcely had Mr. Fleet finished speaking than fifty shillings "were" offered, the bids rising rapidly one after another, until finally the fox terrier puppy was knocked down to the squire of the neighbourhood—Sir Matthew Harley—for the sum of five pounds.

He too had given of his best—his son for his country, and a fellow feeling had made him wondrous kind.

It was just as the bargain was completed that Dick Woodbridge, his face looking very anxious, entered the room. He had come post haste from The Gables in order to buy Frisky and restore him to his master, if the price was not beyond his powers. None of the Bannister children, to their disappointment, were there on that day, Frank's illness causing a certain amount of anxiety in the household.

Dick was somewhat taken aback to find that Frisky had already been sold, and for such a sum, but still he was not hopeless of attaining his object. Seeking out his Uncle Nat, he made a bold request.

"Please, Uncle Nat," said he, "I want you to lend me five pounds."

"Five pounds!" repeated Mr. Grimwood in surprise. "Whatever for, my lad?"

Then Dick told him.

"I believe," finished the boy, "that if I could take Frisky back to Frank, it would do him a power of good. He's quite ill to-day, and the doctor is half afraid of pneumonia."

Mr. Grimwood looked thoughtful.

"I never lend," said he, "on principle. Besides, how do you know that Sir Matthew will part with the dog?"

"I don't know," replied Dick, "but I believe he would, for he looks kind. Uncle Nat," he went on earnestly, "if you won't 'lend' me the money, may I have five pounds instead of the bicycle you promised me on my next birthday?"

Mr. Grimwood was surprised, and inwardly very pleased. He had not expected such unselfishness from Dick, although, as he well knew, the lad had much improved in character of late.

"Well," he said, after a little consideration, "we'll see what Sir Matthew has to say about it."

But the Squire, when the request was made, and he had heard the whole story, shook his head.

"No," he said, "I want that fox terrier for a special purpose."

Dick was now feeling almost in despair. "Oh, 'please,' Sir Matthew," cried he, "'do' let me buy him back."

"Suppose—" (there was a kindly twinkle in Sir Matthew's eyes as he spoke) "I want it for the same purpose as 'you' do."

"Oh, Sir Matthew!" Dick almost gasped in his relief. "Do you really mean it?"

"Of course I do; I never say what I don't mean. Take the dog, and tell its master from me I hope he'll soon be better."

Dick was too delighted to express his thanks properly, but he did his best; Mr. Grimwood also expressing his appreciation of the Squire's kindness.

Very soon after this Dick was hurrying off to The Gables with Frisky in his arms.

[Illustration: FRANK'S DELIGHT AT SEEING HIS PET AGAIN WAS ALMOST TEARFUL.]

Frank's delight at seeing his pet again was almost tearful, for the boy was feeling both weak and ill. When he heard all there was to tell, he gripped Dick's hand with all the strength he possessed.

"Dick, old chap," said he, "you're a brick—that's what you are; and so is Sir Matthew!"

Strange to say, the change for the better in Frank seemed to date from that time. At least, so said Mrs. Weston and the children.

And the doctor, when he called next day and saw the improvement in his young patient, declared with a laugh that Frisky had done him more good than all the medicine in the world.