CHAPTER VI.

JACK BOND.

TOM grew perceptibly weaker as the days went on, but the anxiously looked-for sleep did not come so soon as it was expected. At last, however, the tired brain could hold out no longer, and, to the intense relief of his mother, he went to sleep one morning holding her hand, and when Mrs. May came in an hour later, he was still sleeping, though rather restlessly.

"I am afraid to take my hand away, for fear of disturbing him," whispered Mrs. Winn.

The old lady nodded; "sit still for a bit longer," she whispered. And she went down stairs and fetched some strong beef-tea for Mrs. Winn herself, for she could see she was growing faint from the long strain.

"Now, my dear," she said to Elsie, "you just go and bind a piece of cloth round that knocker, and keep the children as quiet as mice. We shall have Tom down stairs again as well as ever I hope."

"He is really asleep at last," said Elsie.

"Yes, my dear, he is asleep; but at present a very little noise will disturb him, and so the house and children must be kept quiet, for his life depends upon his getting a long, restful sleep. Make some more beef-tea for your mother and Tom too. I shall stay now I have come," concluded the old lady.

Elsie was tying up the knocker to muffle its sound, when a boy said, in an eager, anxious whisper, "How is he, Miss Elsie?"

Turning half round as she tied the last knot, she came face to face with Jack Bond. In a moment she darted indoors, and almost slammed the street door in his face, she was so angry at the sight of him.

But as she stood with the lock in her hand, to make sure that he did not get in, a whisper came through the keyhole, "Do, please, tell me how he is. You don't know how sorry I am, for I always liked Tom."

Then Elsie opened the door about an inch, and said, "Go away, Jack Bond. You have nearly killed our Tom; and if there is any noise to waken him now he has gone to sleep, it will kill him."

Poor Jack groaned, but moved a little way from the door. Elsie fetched baby to hold him at the parlour window for a little while; and just after she got there, she saw Jack dart down the street to where a man was calling vegetables in stentorian tones, that made her quake as she listened.

But a word from Jack brought an end to the shouting, and then she saw him point across to the house. The man nodded, left off calling his wares, and pushed his barrow quietly past the house, while Jack took up a position on the pavement to watch for other hawkers.

This touched Elsie, and quite subdued her anger. She felt sorry she had answered him so gruffly, and at last she tapped at the window, and then cautiously opened the street door, and thanked him for what he had done.

Jack looked very pleased to receive her thanks, and then he said, "I'm going to stop here and keep the street quiet for Tom. Put the baby into his go-cart, and I'll wheel him up and down for you."

But before Elsie could reply, or even make up her mind whether she ought to accept this offer, a cart dashed past making a considerable noise, because there was a patch of loose stones opposite the house, where the road had just been repaired.

Jack turned to look at the cart and the road, and Elsie murmured, "Oh, that dreadful noise! I wish they hadn't put those stones down."

"Wait a bit, Miss Elsie; I know what I'll do," he said, as he thrust his hand into his pocket, and brought out two or three pence.

He darted off down the street, and Elsie returned to the parlour window, and presently she saw him returning with a huge bundle of straw on his back. The straw was not clean, but there was a good heap when he untied it, and he scattered this over the loose stones.

By great good fortune, a mud cart came past just as he had finished, and he persuaded the man to put a little of the half-liquid slush on the straw, so as to keep it from blowing away.

Elsie, watching from the window, thought he was very clever to think of such a device, and actually went to put baby's coat and hat on, that he might go out in charge of the boy she had almost hated during the last few weeks. If any one had told her a few days ago that she would have trusted their darling to that wicked boy Jack Bond, she would have said it was impossible. But now she wheeled him out at the side gate, with her own hat on, for baby was fractious this morning, and must go out, if the house was to be kept quiet, though she was not quite sure that she ought to let him go with this stranger.

"Won't you let me wheel him up and down, Miss Elsie? I will be very careful," said Jack, pleadingly, when he saw her come out.

Elsie hesitated for a moment, but the big overgrown schoolboy looked very good-natured and very unhappy. "You see, I've waited about here before, for a chance to do something for poor Tom—just to let you know I was sorry for making him ill."

"Well, if baby will let you wheel him, and you can keep any of the organ men away, I shall be glad," said Elsie; but she was careful not to resign the handle of the perambulator until they were a little way from the house, for fear baby should scream out his displeasure at the change of nurses.

But he graciously smiled at Jack, when he replaced Elsie, and did not seem to mind being left in his care, so that she was able to run home to look after Bobbie and the house-work with a light heart.

She went about her work of washing-up, sweeping, and dusting, almost without a sound, and noticed with satisfaction how quiet the street was that morning. Every hawker's cry was hushed before the house was reached, and the carts going over the padding of straw and mud made no grating noise now to disturb Tom.

The doctor, when he came, commended Elsie for muffling the knocker. "Your brother has gone to sleep at last, I suppose, and everything will depend upon him not being disturbed," he added, for he knew that Elsie would be able to secure quiet in the house better than any one else, as she had charge of the little ones.

That anxious day passed slowly enough to the watcher; but Tom slept on, and his breathing grew more regular as the hours went on.

At dinner time, Elsie took Jack some bread and cheese, and asked him to stay and watch for the organ men. "Mother has been downstairs, and she thinks Tom looks a little better already," said Elsie, "and she told me to thank you for the straw, and what you have done for us this morning."

"I only wish I could do ever so much more. No, thank you, I am not hungry, and I can't eat all that bread and cheese. I'll just have a little bit, to save me going home, for I daresay if I went, there'd be a jolly row in the street," said Jack, with a touch of pride, as he looked round.

"The organ men would be bad for Tom now," said Elsie.

"Yes, and there'd be one at each side of the house, if I was to go away," said Jack.

As he spoke, a party of boys, on their way from school, turned into the street, in the midst of a noisy argument, that seemed to involve a good deal of shouting.

Out darted Jack from the gateway, and between coaxing and threats, he managed to quiet the disputants, much to Elsie's delight and amusement.

"I don't know what we should do without you to-day," she said, when he came back to take the bread and cheese. "If you have done us a good deal of mischief, I believe you are sorry for it now," she added frankly.

"I am, I am!" said the boy; and he drew his coat sleeve across his eyes and turned aside his head, for he would not like to let a girl see him cry, and he could not keep the tears out of his eyes just then.

Elsie turned away, leaving the side gate open, that Jack might not feel himself shut out from them entirely now. Truly he was a curious lad, she thought, and if he had led Tom into mischief, he must care for him, or he would not wait and watch with such patience to quell every harsh-sound, lest he should be disturbed.

Not until dusk, when hawkers had given up the business of the day, and organ men had shouldered their instruments and were plodding homeward, did Jack resign his self-imposed task and go home.

At six o'clock the next morning, Elsie unbolted the street door, and there stood Jack close at hand. "Them milkmen will begin their noise soon," he said, in explanation of his early visit. "How is he now, Miss Elsie?" he asked anxiously.

"Still asleep, and mother feels sure the danger is almost over," said Elsie, cheerfully.

In the course of that day, Tom opened his eyes, and recognised his mother for the first time since he had been ill.

"My boy! My darling!" she said, kissing him tenderly.

"Oh, mother!" he gasped.

"You must not try to talk, my dear. Drink this, and we will make you comfortable." And while she raised him in her arms, and gave him what the doctor had left for him to take, Mrs. May shook up his pillows, and smoothed the bed, so that he might go to sleep again comfortably.

"Have I been asleep long?" asked Tom, in a feeble whisper.

"A few hours, dear," said his mother.

"I have had dreadful dreams," said Tom, drowsily. And as he spoke, his eyes closed, and his mother placed him in a more restful position, that he might sleep again.

When the doctor saw him, he said that, with care and patience, Tom would recover now; but they would have to bear in mind that the illness had been a severe one, and they must not expect him to get well and strong very quickly.

As soon as he was able to talk, he told his mother how grieved he felt that he had brought so much trouble upon her, for if he had only obeyed his schoolmaster, and kept away from Sadler Street and Jack Bond, he would never have been ill.

"My dear, Jack Bond is as sorry as you are for what he has done," said Mrs. Winn; and then she told Tom of the kind attentions of his school-fellow.

"Poor old Jack! So he has had a bad time too," remarked Tom. "Will you let him come and see me soon, mother?" he asked.

"When you get stronger, my boy," replied Mrs. Winn, with something like a sigh, for as the days went on she found the doctor's words all too true. At first Tom seemed to get on nicely, and each day he appeared a little stronger, and then he seemed to come to a standstill.

When all danger of infection was over, he was moved into another room, and it was hoped that this change would help him; but it made little difference, for he still continued weak and languid, in spite of everything that was done for him.

As soon as the house was thoroughly disinfected, and all fear of infection was at an end, Mrs. Winn sent to her friends and customers, telling them that Tom had recovered, and she would be glad of any work they might have for her. But the days passed and not a single dress was sent, and then she learned, to her dismay, that during her enforced idleness, two others had set up in the business of dressmaking close by, and one of these knew many of the people whom she had worked for.

As weeks went on, and so little work came in, that only half her time was employed, she began to think that she had better move to another part of the town.

Then a friend suggested that, as Tom was still so very delicate, it would be better perhaps to move a little further away from London, and go where the air was fresher and purer. In a country village, the rent would be less, and they might even get a garden large enough to grow their own vegetables.

"Oh, mother, I should soon get well if we had a garden like that," said Tom, who overheard the talk.

"Yes, you always liked a garden, I know, my dear," said his mother; "but there are other things to consider besides the garden,—my work to be thought of."

"Well, now, I think there is an opening for a dressmaker in Fairfield, Mrs. Winn, and you could not fail to get on if you went there," said her friend. "Why, two years ago, when I went to my mother's funeral, I could not get a dress made in the place for love or money; and a good many gentry live round, who would be glad enough to have a dressmaker at hand."

Elsie, seeing how ill her brother looked, and hearing him talk about the delight of having a garden, also begged her mother—if they must move—to go into the country, until at last Mrs. Winn arranged to go to Fairfield, and see if there was a house to be had likely to suit her. It was not an expensive railway journey, and Tom and Elsie were so anxious to move into the country, that she thought she would at least make the trial for their sakes.

Tom had not been able to return to school, but his friend Jack often came to see him, and went with him for short walks; for Tom could not walk far, and was often glad to take Jack's arm to help him home again.

Jack had grown wonderfully gentle and tender over Tom, and bore with his impatience and fractiousness with as much patience as Elsie herself. Jack had not returned to school, although the epidemic of scarlet fever was over now; for his father, who was a carpenter, had discovered that his son was beginning to learn the use of tools, from the way he had built the rabbit hutch. And finding he had grown so much more quiet and steady the last few months, he had decided to apprentice him to his own trade as soon as he could. But he, too, thought of moving, as there was a better opening for his trade in another town, and so the two boys, as they walked, discussed the question of who would move first.

"I hope you will, Tom," said his friend one day, "for I could help you, and there are plenty to do our packing; but you would be of very little use."

"Everybody seems to think I am useless now," said Tom, peevishly.

"No, no, Tom! It's only that you have not got your strength back yet; and every time I see you, old fellow, I blame myself for persuading you to come and help me with that rabbit hutch, my father says it's a decent bit of work for two boys to turn out, but he little knows what it cost."

"It's been pretty hard on my mother," said Tom with a sigh.

"Ah, it has that, and upon your sister too. I never see her but I think what a couple of idiots we were to go against the master's orders as we did."

"But you couldn't help going to Sadler Street," said Tom, quickly.

"No, but I might have known better than persuade you that Potter had a grudge against me and the street, as I was always driving into you. It's a lesson I shall never forget, Tom—never as long as I live—and I'll take care nobody ever fills my mind with such stuff as I crammed you with; and don't you ever let anybody do it to you again. If you had looked at the thing fairly and squarely all round, you might have known that Potter wouldn't do such a thing; and I'm heartily sorry I ever said he had a spite against me and Sadler Street, for that was the beginning of all the trouble."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Tom with a yawn, for although they had not walked far, he was too tired to talk, and was glad to lean his weight on Jack's arm, and return home to lie on the sofa and rest. During this resting, he had ample time to think over his folly. It was all very well for Jack to say he was most to blame, but Tom recalled, with bitterness, his broken promises to Elsie to turn over a new leaf, and how he had deliberately tried to forget it, that he might join in Jack's foolish fun.

Jack had a sister, it is true, but she was not like Elsie; and, besides, Jack had a father, and there was little need for him, perhaps, to stick to his lessons. But his neglect had well-nigh ruined his mother he knew. Bitter reflections these were, but Tom had no others just now.