CHAPTER I

HUGH'S WRATH

"DO you mean to say, mother, that he wouldn't see you?"

"Yes, Hugh, I was turned away like a stranger from your grandfather's door."

"Then he's a wickeder old sinner than I thought he was, and I'm ashamed of belonging to him."

"That appears to be a mutual feeling, my son; on that one point you and your grandfather evidently agree."

"He shall never have the chance of insulting you again, mother. We shall soon be big enough to work for you, and then you needn't be afraid of anything or anybody."

The lad who spoke thus impetuously looked up into his mother's face as though for her dear sake he would war with the whole world.

"Never mind, Hughie boy," she answered soothingly. "It was a long journey for nothing, but as he wouldn't answer my letters, what else could I do?

"Ah well," she added, "so long as I have my children, and health and strength to work for them, I am not afraid," but nevertheless, though the mother uttered these brave words, there was a tremor of weariness and disappointment in her voice.

She had anticipated so much from a personal interview with Sir Matthew Rose—her father-in-law—but now all her cherished hopes were dashed to the ground.

Mrs. Rose was the widow of a clergyman, and since the death of her husband, about four years previously, she had had a hard struggle to support herself and her children.

The three eldest were boys, Hugh, Frank, and Ronald by name, whose ages varied from ten to seven. The youngest was a girl named Elsie, a little maid of between five and six summers, who was the pet and plaything of them all.

The house in which they dwelt (a roomy old residence known as The Gables) was the property of Mrs. Rose, bequeathed to her by a wealthy relative shortly before her husband's death. By means of letting a portion of the house, the widow managed to eke out her income sufficiently to provide for the actual needs of herself and her children, but there was little margin left for education and additional expenses. Not that the lack of regular lessons troubled her light-hearted laddies one jot; they were well content with the home tuition they received, but not so their ambitious little mother.

For this cause she had nerved herself to make one final appeal to their grandfather for assistance, and with what result we have already seen.

Her husband, Gilbert Rose, was the eldest son of a wealthy baronet, and for many years he was the apple of his father's eye.

At length came a day when their wills clashed, and in his wrath Sir Matthew vowed he would have nothing more to do with him, and he determined to make Wilfrid, his second son, his heir.

The cause of dispute was Gilbert's choice of a bride, who in his father's eyes was neither fitted by birth nor worldly treasure to become the wife of his eldest son.

Elizabeth Gilderoy (or Lisa, as Gilbert was wont to call her) was the orphaned sister of one of his curates. She was both good and beautiful, and it was little wonder that he loved her. Their married life was exceedingly happy, but all too soon it came to a close. After a brief illness he died, leaving his wife with four young children to battle against the winds of adversity.

The blow fell upon her with crushing force, but despite her bitter grief, her faith did not falter, for she realized that though earthly props might fall, yet around her were the Everlasting Arms of Divine love and tenderness.

Hugh's affection for his mother well-nigh bordered on worship, and the idea of her being slighted or insulted was intolerable to his proud spirit.

"It's no use being angry, my boy, we must talk things over calmly," she said. "But I'm afraid now, as matters stand, there is nothing but the Board school for you all."

"Oh, mother, as if you couldn't teach us all we want to know!" answered Hugh impulsively. "Besides, we shan't want much learning for the professions we've chosen."

Hugh's pleading look brought the sudden tears to his mother's eyes, though his words made her smile.

"Well, laddie, and what are the professions to be?" she said gently.

"Oh! I'm going to be a sailor, and you don't want to go to school to be taught the ropes; and Frank and Ronnie have made up their minds to be sheep-farmers abroad, so as to make a fortune quickly; and Elsie says—" here a broad smile came over Hugh's face—"she is going to keep a sweet-shop."

Mrs. Rose laughed, but she soon grew grave again.

"Hugh dear," she said earnestly, "you are old enough now to know that an ignorant boy has no chance in the world, and at a Board school you will all three get a good education. In this matter you must put your pride in your pocket, in the same way I did when I went to The Towers."

"Oh, mother, I hate being poor," cried Hugh, "and I hate—I hate grandfather with all my heart!"

With these words Hugh left the room, and in his agitation, he nearly ran into Miss Beaumont, the lady who occupied part of The Gables, and who cherished for Hugh a sincere affection.

"Why, Hugh, what is the matter?" she asked in surprise.

"Nothing at all, Miss Beaumont, thank you," answered Hugh, seeking to make good his escape.

But the lady was not to be put off in this manner. "Come into my room," she said authoritatively, "and tell me what has upset you."

Miss Beaumont's apartments were furnished with a view both to luxury and elegance, but Hugh took little heed of his surroundings as he sat, at the lady's bidding, beside her on the sofa.

"Mother says we must go to the Board school," he burst out impetuously.

"Very sensible too of your mother, if she is unable to send you elsewhere."

Hugh flashed an indignant look upwards.

"Oh! You think it isn't good enough for you, I suppose. Well, upon consideration, perhaps, the grandchildren of Sir Matthew Rose should have other advantages. Why doesn't your mother apply to him?" inquired Miss Beaumont.

"She has, but he refused to see her, and I've a good mind to write and tell grandfather what I think of him!"

"Well, then, I won't keep you any longer," responded Miss Beaumont, with a gleam of humour in her eyes. "If you should decide to write such an important letter, I will post it for you with some of my own."

"Then I will," said Hugh with great decision.

As soon as the lad had closed the door behind him, Miss Beaumont murmured to herself, "H'm! I wonder what Matthew will say to such an epistle. He'll be a little taken aback, I think, but it won't do him any harm in the end."

After which speech she sat down to her writing-desk, and wrote several letters, one of which was addressed to Sir Matthew Rose, Bart.

At the end of half-an-hour Hugh reappeared, with a sealed letter in his hand, which he gave into her keeping.

"This is a secret, I suppose, Hugh?" she said, interrogatively.

"Yes, please, Miss Beaumont."

"Ah, I understand; this isn't the first secret we've had, is it, my boy?"

"No," said Hugh; "you are very good to us, only I wish you would let me tell mother where the presents come from."

"No, Hugh, I'd rather not; perhaps she shall know some day, but not yet."

And with this Hugh was perforce content.