CHAPTER II.

RIGHT AND WRONG.

MRS. WHITE, Walter's mother, kept a small shop in Springcliffe. Her stock-in-trade consisted in all the numerous articles comprehended under the general term "haberdashery," in addition to which she also sold stationery and toys. She was much respected in the neighbourhood.

In years gone by, when Walter was a little boy, her circumstances had been very different. Then her husband lived, and rented a small farm not far from Springcliffe, and everything seemed to prosper with them. But after that there came a year when the crops failed, and a long and severe winter succeeded. Mr. White, never a very strong man, caught a violent cold, from the effects of which he did not recover. He died in the early spring time, and the sale of the farming implements and stock barely sufficed to pay his debts, and the widow found herself left almost penniless, with her little son, then about nine years old.

She bore up under her trials with Christian fortitude; feeling that God's way with us is the "right way," how rough soever it may seem to be. In all her trouble she had one great comfort, and that was her boy Walter. For his sake she nerved herself to recommence—and this time alone—the battle of life; and, with the assistance of a few kind friends, who had respected her husband, she raised a sum sufficient to stock her little shop. By industry and frugality she managed to earn a decent livelihood for herself and child, and to save money enough to apprentice Walter to Mr. King, the carpenter.

"All's settled, mother," cried Walter, as he entered the homely but comfortable room, half-kitchen, half-parlour, in which Mrs. White was sitting.

The widow always closed her shop at seven o'clock, and she was now seated at work by a bright fire, with a little round table before her. At the other side of the fire Walter's chair was ready for him, and his slippers were warming in the fender.

"All's right, mother, and we are to begin school on Monday evening. Ain't I glad, that's all!"

"And so am I, Walter, I can assure you. It will be a nice occupation for you during the long winter evenings, when there are so many hours after work in which you have literally nothing to do, and—"

"And what, mother?" said Walter, with a half-smile, for he guessed what she meant, although she had not finished her sentence.

"Well, you are a dear good boy, Walter; but you know I was always a little afraid of that Frank Hardy."

"You needn't fear, mother, dear; he tried to laugh me out of joining the evening school, but he did not succeed."

"Thank God he did not, Walter; there are more people turned away from doing what they know to be right by being laughed at than in any other way. I am glad to think you were firm."

"Yes, mother, and I tried to turn him, but didn't succeed either; and Squire Forbes says I must try again."

"You will have opportunities for doing so when you are working together at the bench; but I would rather you did not go to the mill cottage. I cannot tell you all my reasons just now, but you may rest assured that they are good ones."

"Yours always are, mother; but what about little Gracie?"

"The poor child would miss you sadly, Walter, so you can still go and see her once or twice a week, as you may be able to find time. It is the evenings I am afraid of, when Frank takes home Tom Haines, and other bad companions."

"I shall have enough to do of an evening to prepare my lessons, mother; and as for Tom Haines, I fancy he likes me just as little as I like him."

"I should be sorry to see you ever do him or any one else an unkind turn, Walter; but he is no good companion for you. Squire Forbes's gamekeeper was in Springcliffe this afternoon, and called for a little parcel I had ready for the young ladies. He told me there had been another affray with the poachers out at Oaklands; and he says there is a desperate gang of them about, and that he knows, for a certainty, that some young men from Springcliffe have joined them."

"Oh! Mother," cried Walter, "then, perhaps—" He checked himself; whatever suspicions he might have formed, it was not right to utter them, when he had no foundation for them except in his own mind.

He refrained, then, from telling his mother that the idea had struck him that Tom Haines was one of the party, and that he was trying to get Frank to join them.

"I may be wrong after all, mother; so I had better say nothing about it."

"Have you and Frank had any talk about Tom Haines?"

"Only a few words this evening, when he asked me why I never seemed to care to speak to Tom now, and I told him plainly the reason. The other morning, though, whilst we were at work, Frank began defending the poachers, at least making excuses for them; and I scarcely knew how to reason against him, although I felt that all he said was wrong. What ought I to have said, mother?"

"Simply the truth, Walter, namely, that poaching is only a milder name for stealing. Of this, too, you may be very sure that the poacher of game will soon become the stealer of other things. Your poor father used often to say he never knew an exception to the rule."

Much more the mother and son spoke of as they sat over the cheerful fire. Happy mother, in having a son willing to trust to her judgment, and to be guided by her advice! And happy, thrice happy son, in having so good a friend and adviser!

Then Walter read a chapter in the Bible to his mother, a practice he never missed. After which they had their frugal supper, and retired to rest, at peace with the whole world, and happy in each other's love.

Sound and peaceful were Walter's slumbers, and he arose early in the morning, so as to light the fire for his mother before he went to work. Frank was late at the yard that morning, and Walter fancied that he looked tired and sleepy when he arrived. The foreman reproved him for being behind time, and Frank answered impertinently; upon which the foreman threatened to complain of him to Mr. King when he came to the yard. He came earlier than usual that day, and almost the first thing he did was to commend Walter for having joined the night school.

[Illustration: "I shall have much pleasure in giving you a set of drawing instruments," said his master.]

"You've been a good steady lad to me," said his master, "and I am glad to find you seeking to improve yourself. I think you have a taste for drawing, and, as a knowledge of that art will be of the greatest possible use to you in your trade, it is a great advantage to be able to acquire it. I shall have much pleasure in giving you a set of drawing instruments, as a proof of my satisfaction with your conduct, and I hope you will derive both pleasure and profit from their use."

Walter's gratitude shone forth in his eyes. His master's generosity had relieved him from the only difficulty he had foreseen in the way of his attending the drawing-class at the night school. He had been told that drawing instruments would be required, and he knew that his mother could not afford to buy them for him; now this only obstacle was removed, and he would be able to study the art for which he felt he had a taste.

Walter's love for his mother was unselfish, and he had never mentioned the subject of drawing instruments to her, knowing that she would at once have deprived herself of some necessary sooner than that he should not have them. And he had generously determined to give up the drawing-class, rather than cause his mother any expense which he felt she could not afford.

How many there are who love their parents with a selfish love! And how comparatively few there are who imitate Walter's unselfish example. As Walter resumed his work after thanking his master, he caught, Frank's eyes fixed upon him with a look of jealous dislike. Working together at the same bench, as the two lads had now done for some years, there was a degree of intimacy between them which, from the difference in their respective characters, might not otherwise have arisen.

Walter had never harboured an unkind thought against Frank; and now, when he saw the evil look on the face of his companion, he thought within himself—"What can I have done to have offended Frank?"

Walter had yet to learn that the first decided step which we take in a right direction never fails to bring upon us the ill-will and jealousy of those companions who have not taken the same step in advance. Idle people do not like to see others more industrious than themselves; and it was the fact of Walter's joining the evening school which had first excited the ill-feeling of Frank Hardy.

His master's open commendation of Walter's conduct that morning, and the present to him of the drawing instruments, had put the finishing stroke to Frank's ill-humour, and from that hour, he became Walter's enemy.

What is true in mere worldly matters is still more the case in religion. Our Saviour says—"Whosoever shall confess Me before men, him will the Son of Man also confess before the angels of God; but he that denieth Me before men shall be denied before the angels of God."

What is meant by confessing Christ? Is it not to let all men see that we believe in Christ, serve Christ, love Christ, and care more for His praise than for all the praise of men?

This is the duty of every Christian. It is not for martyrs only, but for members of Christ's Church in every rank of life,—the rich man among the rich, the labourer among labourers, the young among the young. May we all have grace to fear God! It is the best and only antidote against the fear of man.