CHAPTER XVIII.

CONCLUSION.

"MILNER, Dr. Staples wishes to see you in his study."

This was the message brought to Herbert one morning in the late autumn, just before they went into school.

"What is it, do you know?" said Herbert, stepping aside from the group of boys, who were all talking at once over some matter of great interest to them. "What is the row, do you know?" The messenger happened to be his particular chum.

"Well, I fancy it's about the lessons. You see, old fellow, they haven't been up to the mark lately. You haven't been exactly the pattern boy with the lessons this half; and it won't do, you know, for Staples to lose his pattern boy," he added, with a laugh.

But it was a good-natured laugh, and as he spoke, he drew his friend further away from the boys and their debate. "I should go at once," he added; "get it over as soon as you can, like a dose of medicine."

"Yes, I think I will. I have let things drift again, I am afraid," added Herbert, "so I shall get a wigging, and no mistake, this time!"

But either the doctor was not in a humour to give him "a wigging" just now, or Herbert's admission that he knew he had not given his full attention to his exercises lately, disarmed the master's anger. For instead of threatening all sorts of punishments if the lessons were not prepared better for the future, he talked, in a very fatherly fashion, of doing the duty that lay nearest to hand; and that in neglecting to prepare the lessons and exercises set by his teacher, he was not only defrauding himself of useful knowledge he had been sent there to gain, but would disappoint his mother, and set a bad example to some of his school-fellows. So, for all these reasons Dr. Staples said he hoped he should not have to complain; and Herbert promised that he would, in future, give more care and thought to the tasks set him to do.

He really felt thankful that Dr. Staples did not ask him what he was thinking of that his papers were so badly done. If he had asked this question, the lad would doubtless have looked very self-conscious, and the doctor would have thought that there was some mischief afoot among the boys, which Herbert had been warned not to tell. Certainly, the matter that occupied his mind could not be disclosed to the doctor.

He could not tell anyone about it, and his mother had forbidden him to write to her about it; and yet the thought pressed upon him continually, that this unknown aunt was in sore need of the money that had been left by his father for her benefit. If he could only have imparted his fears and anxieties to his mother, she would certainly have pushed her enquiries a step further, and discovered whether this Mrs. Winn he had heard about was indeed his aunt, and made sure that she was well provided for. Now it seemed that he must put away all thought of these unknown relatives, and leave them to their fate; for he was neglecting his nearest duty—his school duty; and so, as he walked away from the study to the large schoolroom, he determined to put away resolutely all thought of this Mrs. Winn, until he should return home at Christmas; and having made this resolution, he kept to it, and bent his whole energies to make up for the time he had wasted.

But the effort cost him something, and his friend noticed that before the end of the week, Herbert was looking tired and fagged.

This friend was a weekly boarder, who went home on Saturday afternoons and returned soon after breakfast on Mondays.

When he came the Monday following, he brought a note from his father for Dr. Staples, and then went at once in search of Herbert.

"I say old fellow, you don't look very bright this morning."

"Perhaps not; I have got a headache," answered Herbert, with a yawn.

"Well, my father will have to give you something for it, if it lasts all the week; for the mater says I am to take you home with me next Saturday. The gig will be here for us at two o'clock."

"But—but, Perceval, I don't know your people," said Herbert.

"What does that matter? We know each other; and I want you to see my tame rat, and old Growler, our watch-dog. Oh! There's heaps of things I want to show you; and as my father is a doctor, he may be able to give you something for the headache you have so often."

"Thank you; it is kind of you to think of me when you are away."

A day or two later, Dr. Staples told Herbert he had received an invitation from Dr. Perceval for Herbert to go home with his son on the Saturday, and stay until the Monday. "I am very glad to hear, Milner, that there has been a decided improvement in the way your lessons have been prepared since I spoke to you. If there had not been, I should have felt it my duty to decline this invitation for you. But as it is, I will see that you have the same opportunity of preparing Saturday lessons that Perceval has; and I have no doubt the change will do you good."

Herbert thanked Dr. Staples; but he was not sure that he cared very much to go home with his friend. He did not know Dr. or Mrs. Perceval; and there were some sisters, he knew; and Herbert was shy of sisters, even if they were ever so nice.

But he did not say this to his friend. Perceval seemed delighted at the thought of taking him home; and so, for his sake, he tried to feel pleased too, little dreaming what a great surprise awaited him in this stranger's home.

The gig came at two o'clock, with John the coachman to drive; and Edward Perceval asked all sorts of questions about his father and mother, and all the family of sisters, and the four-footed pets that were kept in the stable and outhouse, under John's care during the week.

Dr. Perceval was out visiting some of his patients when the boys arrived; but the afternoon passed quickly enough in visiting all the animals that the Percevals kept about the stable and barns. It was, in fact, a small farmyard, for every animal was a pet of somebody's, and by no means a common sort of cow, or goat, or dog, or horse, the children having invested them each and all with an individuality that made it a peculiar treasure, and quite a privilege, to be the owner of such a superior beast.

They teased and chaffed each other about their particular pets, in a way that perfectly amazed Herbert, although he could see it was all good-natured banter.

When the doctor came home and joined them in that most delightful of meals—high tea—they, one and all, turned to him and asked after this patient and that, as though these were another set of pets in which they were equally interested.

At last the doctor managed to say, "Poor Elsie Winn is very ill."

"Oh, papa, hasn't Mrs. Winn heard from her sister yet?"

And then, before anyone could speak, everybody's attention was drawn to their guest, and Edward came round to his side, and unfastened his necktie, as though he thought he was going to faint.

"'Elsie Winn,' did you say?" he managed to gasp.

"Yes; do you know an Elsie Winn? By the way, I believe Mrs. Winn said her sister's name was Milner," said Mrs. Perceval.

The party round the table stared with open eyes and mouths at Herbert, until their mother, out of pity for their guest, sent all of them from the room but Edward—he still stood by Herbert's chair, until he recovered himself sufficiently to be able to speak.

"I am not sure at all whether this Elsie Winn is my cousin," he said; "but my mother had a sister of that name, whom she has not seen for many years. I do not know her at all; but through a letter that came into our hands by accident, just before I came to school this term, we thought this sister might be alive; and my mother wrote to the lawyer, Mr. Capon, to make enquiries about her."

"If it is the same, she has written to your mother quite recently, but has received no answer; and to-day I found her almost in despair, for two of her children are ill now, chiefly from want of food."

"Oh, dear! And there is money in the bank that my father left, in case she should ever need it," exclaimed Herbert, almost wringing his hands at the thought of this unknown aunt being in such need. "The Elsie Winn I want to find won a scholarship, a year or so ago, and then gave it up because her father died."

"Why, that is our Elsie!" exclaimed Edward and his mother, in the same breath.

"And you know her? She lives close by here?" exclaimed Herbert, excitedly.

"Well, not exactly close by; she lives in the village of Fairfield, and that is nearly a mile and a half from here."

"But I can go and see her, and make sure that it is my aunt," said Herbert, rising from his seat, as though he would set off on his errand at once.

"Finish your tea, my lad, and then we will decide what is best to be done," said Dr. Perceval, glancing at his wife as he spoke.

They could both see that their guest was very anxious to ascertain whether the doctor's patient was his relative. And they both came to the same conclusion, that it would be best, to satisfy this curiosity with as little delay as possible.

So the doctor said, after a pause, "I should like to send a bottle of medicine to the little boy—the sooner he has it the better."

"And I want to speak to Mrs. Winn," said his wife.

"Then we can all go together," put in Edward. "How shall we go? Are you good for a three mile walk there and back, Milner?" said his friend.

"Six miles, if you like!" said Herbert, who was anxious to start at once, to solve the uncertainty as to whether this lady was his unknown aunt.

"If you walk, Ted, you will have to carry mother's medicine basket," said his father.

"Mother's medicine basket" was a joke in the family; for the doctor often asked for beef-tea and jelly to be made for his poorer patients, and this was generally taken by Mrs. Perceval in a basket that was more convenient than elegant; so that Edward might be excused for a shrug of the shoulders, at the suggestion of carrying mother's basket to Fairfield and back.

But Herbert was too anxious to see this unknown Mrs. Winn, and so he said, promptly enough, "I will carry the basket, if you will allow me, for I hope you will let me go and see this lady."

"Would you know her, do you think?" asked Mrs. Perceval.

For Mrs. Winn had told her that she had had no communication with her sister since she had been married.

Herbert shook his head dubiously. "I have never seen her," he said; "but if she is like my mother, I should know her at once."

"Very well; you and Edward shall take charge of Mrs. Perceval, and walk to Fairfield after tea; and I hope it may prove that this lady is your relative, for she stands in great need of a friend just now," said Dr. Perceval.

So mother's basket was packed with dainties, likely to tempt the appetite of an invalid, and the boys were ready to quarrel as to who should carry it, in spite of its weight and want of elegance; but they were willing to take it in turns before they had walked very far.

Mrs. Perceval told Herbert all she knew about the family who had come to Fairfield as strangers a few months before; and what a brave struggle Mrs. Winn had made to maintain her family, until her eldest was taken ill, and then she seemed to be quite crushed with the hopelessness of all the efforts she was likely to be able to make here.

"If she should prove to be your aunt, I am sure it will be quite a providence for the poor thing. For the letter she sent to her sister was returned a day or two ago, marked 'not known.'"

"Perhaps she did not know that we had moved away from London a long time ago," said Herbert.

"I don't think she has had any communication with her friends for years; and it was only at my husband's persuasion, and for the sake of her children, that she consented to write and let this sister know of her great distress."

"What shall you say, mother, when we get to the cottage? Shall you leave us outside, and go and tell Mrs. Winn a stranger had come to see her?" said practical Edward, for they were close to the village now.

Mrs. Perceval paused for a minute, to think what would be best; and she decided to take both lads with her. Edward was well-known, and she would introduce Herbert as his friend, and see whether there was any recognition on either side. And it must be confessed that the lady was a little disappointed, and so was Herbert, for he could see no trace of his mother in the worn, faded looking woman, who ushered them into the sitting room.

There he and Edward were left to themselves; and, before Mrs. Perceval came back, the question that had been like a nightmare to him for the last few weeks had been answered.

On the mantelpiece was a small miniature of a lady, and he recognised this as the companion to one his mother wore as a brooch, set with very fine pearls. This was in a cheap frame; and when the two ladies came into the room, he had it in his hand. "Pardon me," he said, looking at Mrs. Winn, "but was not this in a brooch once?"

"Yes, it is the portrait of my mother," said Mrs. Winn, staring at Herbert.

"And it is my grandmother!" said the boy, joyfully. "And so you must be my lost aunt Elsie, whom my mother has been trying to find!" As he spoke, Herbert went to meet her with outstretched hands, and kissed her, as though she had been his own mother, in his gladness at having found these unknown relatives at last.

Mrs. Winn was simply overpowered, and could not resist, although she had been prepared by Mrs. Perceval to find in this stranger her sister's son. Still, that any son of Herbert Milner could welcome her so gladly, in spite of her poverty, was something for which she was altogether unprepared. And when, a little later, she heard that the man she so greatly disliked had left her a sum of money in the bank, in case she should ever need it, she felt that she must have misjudged her sister's husband as well as her sister, and that he could not have been the hard, unfeeling man she had always thought him.

"I must see my cousin Elsie," Herbert said, when he and Mrs. Winn had exchanged various confidences. "You see, I might never have found you, if it had not been for Elsie giving up her scholarship, and that seemed such a plucky thing to do, that when mother told me about having a sister of that name, we made up our minds to try and find her, and sent to our lawyer about it; but I think lawyers are muffs very often. Old Capon has proved he is over this; for you see I have found you, aunt, and I don't mean to lose you again."

Herbert seemed likely to lose his head in his delight; and he had to be warned more than once that Elsie was ill and very weak, and that if he went upstairs to see her he must not talk much. Mrs. Perceval undertook to introduce him to the invalid, who had been told something of the wonderful news.

"This is the new cousin whom Edward brought home from school to-day," said the lady, leading the boy into the little bedroom, where Elsie sat propped up in bed to receive this stranger. The two relatives so strangely brought together, looked at each other for a moment in silence, and then Herbert bowed his head, and lifted Elsie's hand and kissed it, saying, "I am very glad to see you, Cousin Elsie, and I hope you will soon be quite well."

"Thank you," said Elsie, with the air of a little queen receiving the homage of a sworn knight; and Mrs. Perceval was amused to see the quiet way in which the two met, when they had been so afraid of excitement. Herbert held her hand tenderly in his, looking into her white face with such pity, that Mrs. Perceval, standing near, saw the tears rise to his eyes, and thought it best to hurry him away.

Downstairs he was introduced to his cousin Tom, and was a great deal more free with him. "So you are taking care of your mother and sister," he said; "and you want something to take care of in your pocket, too, I think," and the contents of his own pocket was quickly transferred to that of Tom.

And then he asked if he might come and see them all again the next day. "You see, I am at school with Perceval, and I have to go back with him early on Monday morning, so I don't know when I may see you again."

"You shall come home again with Edward next Saturday," said Mrs. Perceval.

But Herbert still pressed to be allowed to come the next day; and it was arranged that he should come early in the afternoon, and stay to tea, and Edward was to come for him in the evening.

When he got back, he asked Dr. Perceval how soon a letter could be despatched to his mother, for, of course, he wanted to tell her all about his strange meeting with his aunt and cousin.

It was rather an incoherent letter, and whether Mrs. Milner would have understood it is doubtful, if Mr. Perceval had not supplemented it by one from himself, giving that lady an account of the dire poverty into which her sister had been plunged through no fault of her own.

It is possible that if Herbert's letter had gone unsupported by that of Dr. Perceval, Mrs. Milner might have scolded him for poking and prying into things that did not concern him, as she had done before. But she had heard from some friends of this clever and kindly doctor, and knew that he was not only clever, but wealthy too; and, therefore, his letter brought a prompt and satisfactory reply at once.

She was satisfied, from her son's description of the miniature, although it had been removed from its original setting, that the Mrs. Winn described in his letter was her sister; and she enclosed a ten pound note for immediate needs, and also a letter for her sister, in which she promised to come and see her as soon as she could travel; for she was suffering from a bad cold just then, and would not be able to undertake the journey to Fairfield for a day or two.

This was just as well, perhaps, for it gave the long-estranged sisters time to correspond with each other, and so get over a little of the first strangeness of their meeting. By the end of the week, however, Herbert heard that his mother was to reach Fairfield on Saturday morning, and he would drive over to Dr. Perceval's with Edward, as had been arranged, and that he should meet his mother and aunt at Fairfield in the afternoon. When he got there he found that a considerable improvement had been effected all round. Elsie was able to come down to the sitting room, where a good fire was burning, and Herbert found his mother petting and making much of her niece.

A general glow of happiness and satisfaction seemed to pervade the cottage now, so that the lad could scarcely believe it was the same place he had entered only a week before, for then the chill desolation of the sitting room seemed to strike upon him most cruelly. The furniture was the same, the people the same; but yet how changed! For now hope pointed with rosy fingers to the future, whereas before, despair stared the widow in the face, and she saw nothing but the workhouse beyond the present starvation.

Help had come just in time to save her from utter collapse—had come, through each and all of the friends about her doing the duty that belonged especially to them—the duty that lay nearest to their hand!

If Mrs. Milner felt somewhat rebuked for her worldly-wise method of protecting herself, she made ample and practical amends for it, now that she had met her sister once more. They always had been dear friends, as well as sisters, in their early days, and so they became again.

Mrs. Winn moved away from Fairfield the following spring; for nothing would satisfy Herbert but that Elsie should go to a high school, and finish her education in the way she might have done, if she had not resigned the scholarship she had won.

Tom went to college when his mother left Fairfield, confident now that she would be cared for, and with his mind free to give all his attention to study, and to share with his friend Jack the few holidays allowed during term time.

In the future, there was no lack of means for Mrs. Winn, any more than there was for her sister. But it was agreed by all that this might have been very different, if it had not been for Elsie's scholarship, and the way she disposed of it.

THE END