Part 2

I don’t know whether the boys heard him, for what with their own shouting, and the roaring of the bonfire, and the hissing and exploding of the squibs, there was noise enough to drown even Jasper Crabbe’s voice. But whether they heard him or no, they did not heed him, and the consequence was, that among the lighted squibs which were thrown from the top of the mount, was one which fell at the foot of Dinah Marjoram’s hay-rick, but most unfortunately not in front of it, where those below could have seen it, and prevented it from doing any mischief, but behind, where it was quite out of sight, and where it set fire to the hay without any one knowing or suspecting it.

I have said that a smart wind was blowing; and this, was, of course, so much the worse for Dinah’s rick, which taking fire at the bottom, burnt upwards, the wind spreading the flame with the greatest rapidity.

But how shall I describe the alarm, and the sorrow of the boys, when Harry Martin suddenly exclaimed that the rick was on fire, and looking down, they saw the flames running along the edge of the thatch, and rising higher and higher.

And more than all, how shall I tell of the dismay of the poor old woman, when she knew the misfortune which had befallen her. She was a widow, advanced in years, with bad health, and had no children to support her in her age and infirmity, and to help her, (as all good children do help their parents) out of their own wages, and earnings, and to pay back so far as they could, the care and cost which had been spent on them in their infancy, and childhood.--But Dinah Marjoram had no such aid to look to: she was quite a lone woman, poor thing! and had nothing to trust to but what she could earn herself. Her cottage, indeed, and her garden, were her own: there was no rent to be paid for them, or, I really do not know what would have become of her. And she had two cows, which were pastured on the common, and a small field, which she made into hay, for their use in winter. And, so by selling her butter and her cheese, and may be, a few eggs, or chickens, or ducks, she managed to get on very tolerably.

But what was to become of her now, when the hay-rick was in flames, and all the winter fodder for her cows was being destroyed?

At first, she was so frightened and surprized, that she could do nothing, and when she came to herself she could only weep and wring her hands. The boys were very sorry for the accident, but sorrow will not put out fire.

I need not say that they all ran down the hill, and left their bonfire and squibs, to help to put out the blazing rick, but the flames were too strong for them, and they did not know what to do. Luckily, Jasper Crabbe was there, and he bade one stout lad run down to the Squire’s for the fire-engine, alarming the neighbours as he went: and then he got all Dinah’s milk-pails, and everything that could hold water, and placed the boys in a double line between the rick and a pond which was near at hand, so that while one set of boys passed up the buckets that were full, the others passed from hand to hand those which were empty, for the purpose of having them filled again. Meanwhile, some men got on the top of the rick, on the side which was not yet kindled, and poured water as fast as they could upon the flames.

It was a grand sight, for the fire was reflected in the clouds above, which were made all red with the glare, but it was also a most sad sight, for it seemed to threaten Dinah with ruin. However, the neighbours, who now began to arrive, were all very kind to her, and they carried water, and worked with such hearty good-will, that they were already getting the fire under, when the engine arrived, and then it was put out,--but not before half the rick at least, had been destroyed or injured.

As soon as all danger was over, people began to make inquiries how the fire had been occasioned, and then you may be sure the boys came in for their full share of blame: everybody seemed to be open-mouthed, as the saying is, against them.

“Ah! this comes of stealing sticks, and breaking hedges!” cried one.

“I hope they’ll have some good tough sticks broken over their backs,” exclaimed another.

“Aye, and they will too, if old Dilwyn does his duty by them, when they go to school to-morrow!” observed a third.

“What business had they with fire-works? It’s a wonder and a mercy they were not blown up, and burnt to death.”--Thus said others. Poor old Dinah made what excuses she could for them, for she had a kind heart, and knew that what had happened was quite an accident, but her neighbours were quite angry with her for doing so: and when the boys heard how much they were blamed, they slunk away home one by one, glad that the night was so dark, and each hoping by some excuse or other, to get himself out of trouble the next day.--I am glad to say, however, that Kennedy, and Dunn, and Harry Martin, and Charley Salt, went to Dinah, and told her that they would gladly do all in their power to make up her loss.

Dinah thanked them, but shook her head. “Such children as you can do nothing!” she added, and then began to cry again.

Harry Martin thought that they _might_ do something; but he scarce knew what; and so, like the rest, he went home to bed with a heavy heart.

So ended this famous bonfire, which had been so much thought of, and to which our boys had looked forward with such delight. All was now shame, and sorrow, and fear. But there would have been no cause for either fear, sorrow, or shame, if they would have only done what was right at first, and asked the Vicar how his money was to be spent, instead of spending it at all risks in the manner most pleasing to themselves. _We never can be safe, we are almost always doing wrong, when we are trying to please ourselves._

* * * * *

Nobody was at school before the proper hour next morning. Everybody seemed to wish to be last, every boy looked down-cast, and afraid of speaking to his neighbour, and even though Mr. Dilwyn took no notice, nay, said not a single word as to what had taken place, that was no relief to the boys’ minds. They felt that something was hanging over them; their consciences were ill at ease, and before mid-day was past all of them felt that they would rather have almost any punishment inflicted on them, than be thus kept in suspense and doubt.

However, it was not till afternoon school that Mr. Warlingham appeared among them. Very grave he looked, and many a heart beat thick and fast when he began to address them.

He told them that he was, of course, aware of all that had taken place the night before, and how very sure he was that they were all deeply grieved and sorry for the accident. “But,” he continued, “that accident would never have taken place but for the fire-works, and those fire-works ought never to have been bought without my permission. It was an act of dishonesty on your part, to spend the money I gave you, in any other way than that which I directed. I am willing to believe that you acted thoughtlessly, and without any wish or intention of being dishonest, but dishonest you have been, and that is a great reproach and shame to you. And now with respect to this poor woman, whom you have so greatly injured, how do you think of making up her loss to her?”

Nobody answered: the boys knew not what to say.

“Have you any notion what is the value of the property which you have destroyed?”

“No, Sir,” replied two or three of the elder boys, with down-cast looks.

“Well then, I will tell you. Mr. Crabbe, and Mr. Warren, the Squire’s bailiff, have been down to the rick this morning, and they assure me that Ten Pounds will hardly cover Dinah Marjoram’s loss: but that ten pounds, with two which the Squire has sent her, _will_ make up for the damage. _You_ must now find ten pounds. Can you do this?”

There was another long silence.

“You give me no answer,” said Mr. Warlingham, “but I can read your thoughts in your faces. Instead of ten _pounds_, perhaps there are not ten _pence_ in the school at this moment. Let me see how much money can be raised.--Harry Martin six-pence, Kennedy eight-pence, Dunn a penny, Nokes, three-half-pence, Blake two-pence:--in all, eighteen-pence half-penny.--But what are eighteen-pence, when Ten Pounds are required? and besides, why should one boy contribute six-pence, and ten or twenty nothing? Put up your money into your pockets, and let us consider how such a sum is to be raised _fairly_.”

“I fear, Sir,” said Mr. Dilwyn, the schoolmaster, “that such a sum never _can_ be raised.”

“I am certain it can,” replied the Vicar, “and if it can, it must.”

“I’m sure I should not mind working out of school hours, Sir,” said Kennedy.

“Nor I,” “nor I,” replied many more, “if it would do any good.”

“You forget,” observed Mr. Warlingham, “that your time, out of school hours, belongs to your parents: they have the first claim upon you, and many of them need _all_ the assistance which you can give them. If, however, your parents can spare you, I think you may do a great deal towards raising the sum required: but even then, the money can only be raised slowly; and what is poor Dinah to do for hay for her cows, all through the winter?”

For the third time there was a dead silence.

“Well, Boys, I hope you really feel how great a difficulty this is, in which you have placed yourselves. I can only help you to a certain degree, and even if I could help you out of it altogether, I would not; because I am anxious to make this a lesson which may last you your lives.--Now listen to me. It is, as you know, my custom to give you a Christmas dinner in this school, at some period during that time of rejoicing. The cost of that dinner to me is about five pounds. Instead, therefore, of giving you your usual Christmas feast, I shall, (if, as I am sure you wish it,) advance the sum of Five Pounds to Dinah Marjoram at once. This will reduce your debt to one-half, and at the same time you will feel by the loss of something to yourselves, that you have made a sacrifice of your inclination to your duty. But now the question arises how are we to raise the other five pounds?”

Bob Kennedy looked round at the other boys, and then said, “I am sure we should all be glad to work for it, when our parents could spare us,--if any one would employ us.”

“Some of you are too young to be of any use,” replied the Vicar.

“We older boys must work the harder, Sir,” answered Dunn.

“And certainly the most of the labour ought to be thrown upon us, Sir,” added Kennedy, “because we were the leaders: if _we_ had not thought of the fire-works, the little ones would never have wished for them: indeed they wanted sweets from Peggy Brandrick.”

“Now that you speak in this way,” said Mr. Warlingham, “I see you are in earnest, and really desire to make up for your past fault, so far as it is in your power: and, therefore, I will gladly do what I can to assist you.”

The boys thanked him. “Do you think Sir,” they asked, “that the farmers would employ us?”

“Perhaps they would employ a few,” replied the Vicar, “but we could hardly expect them to employ _all_, and I want to make _each one_ of you bear his share in the business.”

“I beg your pardon, Sir,” said Harry Martin, “but I think I know what we might do. There are just fifty of us, in the school. Now, if each of us brought a penny every Monday morning, that would be four shillings and two-pence a week; and if we went on bringing in our pennies weekly, that would raise the sum required in about six months.”

“Well Harry: your notion is not a bad one, but how are you to raise,--each of you,--a penny a week?”

A great many boys said that they were sure that their fathers or mothers would pay a penny a week for them.

“Yes,” replied the Vicar, “I dare say they would, but then the punishment would fall upon your parents instead of on yourselves. Can you think of nothing else?”

“Please Sir, could we not grow some potatoes somewhere, and then sell them?” said Charley Salt timidly.

“Come Charley,” replied Mr. Warlingham, “your’s is the best hit that has been made.” Charley blushed with pleasure.

“But where are you to grow your potatoes?”

“Could we grow them on the Common, Sir?”

“Why, even if you could, there would be such a deal of trenching, and fencing, that half your profits would be swallowed up. Suppose now, that I were to ask the Clerk to let you one of his gardens, (you know the Clerk’s land is divided into small gardens) would you do your best to bring it into good cultivation?”

The boys assured the Vicar they would gladly do so.

“Well,” said the Vicar, “I think that old William Hopkins who died last week, had one of these gardens, so that perhaps his may be still on hire, indeed, I feel sure that it is. Mr. Dilwyn, be good enough to engage it for the use of the school. I will make myself answerable for the rent. You see, Boys, that I am ready to give you every encouragement to do right. And now,” he continued, “I advise you to get somebody to direct and advise you how the ground may be turned to the best account. Who is the best gardener in Yateshull?”

There could be no doubt about that. Every boy was ready to admit that nobody’s garden looked so well at all seasons as Jasper Crabbe’s: however old and ruinous his house might be, his garden was quite a pattern.

“Then if I were you,” observed Mr. Warlingham, “I would go and ask Jasper Crabbe to help you. He knows what your misfortune has been, and I am sure he will be glad to see you trying to make up poor Dinah’s loss. He is rather rough in his manner, but I know him to be very kind-hearted, and I am sure he will be pleased to see you put confidence in him, and that you wish to make a friend of him, in spite of your former bad behaviour to him.”

* * * * *

In the course of the day it was all arranged. The Clerk had let ten roods of garden ground to the school, Jasper Crabbe had undertaken to direct the boys as to its cultivation, and Dinah Marjoram had received five pounds from the Vicar: it would have been a great help if she could have raised the remaining five pounds at once, she said, but she must do the best she could.

When the Vicar heard this, he went and consulted the Churchwardens, and then it was agreed to advance Dinah Marjoram five pounds out of the Alms collected in Church at the Offertory, with the understanding that the sum should be paid back out of the profits of the school garden.

And now the boys began to feel as eager and happy in their garden, as they did in their cricket and foot-ball. To be sure winter was coming on, and therefore, at first, there was little or nothing to be done: but as soon as the weather became more open, and spring approached, and the days began to lengthen, then you might see the boys after evening school or on their Saturday half-holyday,--as busy as bees, and Jasper Crabbe directing them. The bigger lads were digging, others were wheeling barrows with manure,--(they had collected a good deal of manure on the turnpike road, in the course of the winter,) and the little boys were weeding, or picking up stones. All were busy, and all were happy, which nobody can be who is idle and unemployed.

And now came the question, what kind of a crop was to be grown in the garden? Johnny Drew was all for gooseberries, and even some who were older than Johnny, were disappointed when they were told that only one kind of vegetable was to be grown. However, when they had settled in their own minds that potatoes were the best crop, they began to grow eager for Jasper’s advice as to the most desirable kind.

Some were for “Irish lumpers,” as they are called, because they were so big; but Jasper said and very truly, that a worse kind could not be grown, as although large in size, they are very watery, and apt to be hollow: so it was decided against the Lumpers, and then the question arose whether the crop was to consist of “kidneys,” or “blue-eyes,” or “pink eyes,” or some other favourite kind.--But Jasper had another scheme. He said that too many crops of potatoes had been grown on that ground already, and that they would make more profit by sowing onions.

Some people thought this bad advice because onion seed was so dear,--eight-pence an ounce, I believe,--but old Crabbe knew that a fair outlay at first usually ensures the largest return: and so the garden was sown with onions. And the crop came up so well, and grew so well, that when the onions came to be sold at the end of the season, they brought no less than six pounds, ten shillings, in the market.

Of this sum, one pound was paid to the Clerk, for rent, and ten shillings just covered the cost of seed, and other little matters; but the clear gain was Five Pounds, the very sum which the boys needed.

You may guess how happy and satisfied they were when Jasper Crabbe went with them to the Vicarage, and handed over the five, bright, golden sovereigns to Mr. Warlingham: but if _they_ were happy and satisfied, not less so was the Vicar.

“My good boys,” said he, “I rejoice with you, and am greatly pleased with you. You have done, indeed, no more than it was your duty as Christians to do, but you have done it in so good a spirit, that you both deserve and have my approbation.

“Your success is chiefly owing to our kind friend Mr. Crabbe, and I am sure you will feel as grateful to him as I do.

“And now that you have learned that it is in your power,--young as you are--to raise so large a sum among you in the course of the year, I hope I shall no longer see the school-children the only part of my congregation who do not offer their alms in the Church. Every Sunday, in that part of the Communion Service which is called the Offertory, the churchwardens collect the offerings of the congregation. Hitherto you have been passed by: but I hope the time is now come when you will do what you can to increase the sum which is offered upon God’s altar. The sum so collected is given _first_, to our own sick and needy, and then what remains is spent in building churches and schools in our own or in heathen countries. I need not tell you that money so spent is well spent, and must have God’s blessing upon it. And I trust I need not remind you that it is a great honour and privilege to be allowed to spend in God’s service at all.

“I hope you will keep on your garden, and that, out of the profits, you will set aside some portion yearly, so that every Sunday, or at least occasionally, Mr. Dilwyn may make some offering,--a six-pence or a shilling, as you are able, in the name of you all, and for the pious purposes of which I have spoken.

“You cannot offer much, but we know that the widow’s mite was more valued by God, than all the costly offerings of the rich man. Do _you_ follow her example!”

[Illustration]

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.