CHAPTER IV.

A BATTLE, AND ITS RESULT.

"I AM glad to see you able to come on deck, Miss Petty," said Harold, on the following morning, when the old lady, looking paler and more wrinkled than she had done on the preceding day, made her way to a bench. "We have had a wonderfully quiet night for the Channel; Neptune is treating us kindly."

"I don't know what you mean by a quiet night," was the peevish reply; "and his name is not Neptune but Gump."

Harold did not consider himself obliged to correct the old lady's mistake, and suppressed the smile which rose to his lips.

"I was as miserable as I could be!" continued Miss Petty. "I was boxed up in a swinging cage which would not keep steady for a minute, and with a cat for a companion!"

"A cat?" repeated Harold.

"Yes; a cat, a wild cat—a tiger cat!" exclaimed the Lammikin's guardian, looking angrily in the direction of Shelah, who was standing staring at the man at the wheel. "There were two berths—that's what they call them—one over the other. I've never had Master Robin's fancy for climbing, so I chose the lower berth for myself, and helped the child up to hers as well as I could. I bade Shelah keep quiet and go to sleep. I was just dropping off myself, in spite of the sickening motion of the ship, when down comes a foot on my nose, and before I have time to so much as cry out, there is Miss Mischief with a bang on the cabin floor, as if she had taken a flying leap, and had fallen flat on her face! She roared, and I left her to roar; I was not going to hoist her up again, to go tumbling about like a monkey. I've made up my mind to one thing; never—no, never—take charge of a child on ship-board again!"

Harold looked concerned, but it was not on account of the trials endured by the guardian. He felt that poor Shelah had not a chance of learning the sweetness of Christian love whilst under the care of one who knew it only by name.

"I wish to speak to you on a different subject, Miss Petty," said Harold Hartley. "Captain Gump, I regret to say, resolutely sets his face against religious services here, and his commands are lawn on his deck. But no one can prevent Christian passengers from reading and praying together in the saloon, and I hope that some few will unite in asking for a blessing on all on board, and listening to a short exposition from the Word of God. Mrs. Evendale suggested our holding this little meeting, and we have fixed on twelve o'clock as our hour. Will you let us count you among our number?"

Miss Petty hesitated, but only for a moment. She cared not for religious meetings in themselves, but she knew that something of the sort was considered respectable even by the world. Theresa also wished to keep up close intercourse with the Hartleys, who were the only ones amongst the gentlemen on board who did not either treat her with silent neglect or make her the butt of rude jokes. To those unrestrained by Christian courtesy, it was difficult not to laugh at poor, selfish, silly Miss Petty, and the old dame and her Lammikin were already by-words on board.

"I should be charmed to come," said Miss Petty, "if there were any one else to take care of that mischievous magpie; one never knows what she will be at."

Shelah was busy at the moment in trying to uncoil a bit of rope, and pull it to pieces.

"Bring Shelah with you," suggested Harold.

Miss Petty shrugged her shoulders to express how impossible it would be to do anything, or listen to anything, if Shelah were allowed to be present. But the guardian made no other reply.

Mrs. Evendale was sitting in her former place, Robin not far-away, leaning over the side of the vessel as if watching the waves, but really absorbed in listening. While the widow was plying her needle, in a low melodious voice she was singing to herself, quite unconscious of a listener near. The air which she sang was plaintive and sweet:

MISSIONARY HYMN.

"For Thy sake, And in Thy name, We offerings make— Lord! Send down flame!

"With Thy Word We face the foe, We grasp the sword,— Lord! Speed the blow!

"For Thy love We scatter grain; Lord! From above Send down the rain!

"Through life's hour To work be mine; The glory, power, The harvest—Thine!"

"Forgive me for listening," said Robin, as the song ceased; "I am passionately fond of music, and could listen to you for hours."

"Music is a great solace to me," said the lady. "It has been well observed that hymns are like wings,—they bear us up towards heaven."

"Is that hymn printed in any collection?" asked Robin.

"Scarcely could it be so," replied Mrs. Evendale, with a faint smile, "as it was the outcome of a sleepless hour last night."

"And the air also?" asked young Hartley.

"No; the simple air is one which I learned in childhood from my grandmother. She was of Italian birth, and sang what the Tuscan peasants sing."

"Might I ask you to sing again, and let my brother listen also?" said Robin, as Miss Petty and Harold approached. Shelah was kneeling on a bench at a little distance, looking at bits of brown sea-weed floating below in the sea.

Mrs. Evendale made room on her bench for Miss Petty, and again softly began to sing. But this time the lady chose a well-known English hymn in which the Hartleys could join. Theresa Petty would greatly have preferred gossip, in which she herself was an adept, for the most soul-elevating hymn could not lift her spirit from earth.

Instead of listening, Miss Petty sat watching the movements of Shelah, and before the first verse of the hymn was finished, the guardian started up with almost a scream.

"Oh! The mischievous minx! If she has not thrown her own hat overboard!"

"It's my boat; see how it floats!" cried Shelah, clapping her hands.

"You goose! You donkey!" exclaimed the indignant guardian. "Your new Leghorn—trimmed with real lace! Where are you to get another hat for the voyage?"

"Don't want one," cried Shelah saucily, shaking her fiery locks. The child thought her covering of thick, untidy hair quite sufficient for comfort.

"You may not want one now," observed Harold Hartley, "but the protection of a hat will be quite necessary when we encounter the heat of the tropics."

"You'll have sun-stroke, and coup-de-soleil, and fall down in a fit!" cried Miss Petty. "And what will your father and mother say to me after all the trouble I've taken with their child!"

Robin good-naturedly clapped his own wide-awake over the little girl's head; but the hat being much too large for Shelah, it extinguished her forehead and eyes, only arrested by the turned-up tip of her nose.

Shelah pulled off the wide-awake, and laughed as she flung it back to its owner.

"I think that I can improvise something which will at least keep out the heat," said Mrs. Evendale, after some minutes' consideration. "I have a round, fancy basket below, which is, I think, about the right size for the crown of a hat, and I could quilt a brim if I had proper materials. Ah! This will supply both the wadding and silk," and the lady drew from behind her a small red cushion which had been given for a comfort during the voyage. "The gay colour will not matter on the head of a child."

"I like gay colours," said Shelah; "I won't throw your hat into the sea."

Mrs. Evendale gave no hint that the basket was one which she prized, or that the cushion was one that she would miss; a weakness in her back making the pillow almost a necessary to the widow. Mrs. Evendale went down to the cabin for her workbox and basket, and after removing the handle from the latter, tried it on the head of Shelah O'More.

"Nothing could fit better," observed Miss Petty.

The widow then sat down to cut up her cushion, and begin a puzzling task for the benefit of a disagreeable child, who was not likely even to think of thanks.

To make the quilted covering took hours, but they were pleasant hours to the widow, for, as she plied scissors or needle, she and the Hartleys conversed together on the theme of that love to God which makes us love our brother also. It is that love which pours itself forth in deeds of kindness, as the sun sheddeth forth rays, and apparently with as little effort.

Miss Petty had gone down below, and Shelah for a time was quiet, making up for her restless night by having a sleep on the deck, wrapped up snugly in Mrs. Evendale's travelling rug.

When Shelah awoke, and Miss Petty's gay bonnet again appeared on deck, the hat was finished. It was certainly a most original hat, the colour of the cushion having been scarlet, and it was soft and sun-proof, and—at least, so thought Robin—had a peculiar grace of its own, imparted by the worker, not by the wearer.

"A regular cardinal's hat," observed Harold. "What do you say to Mrs. Evendale for her kindness?" he added, as the lady tied the strings firmly under the chin of the child, and then gave her a kiss, rather to the surprise of both Miss Petty and Shelah herself.

"I'll say she's a good kind woman," answered the girl.

"Oh! That's not the way to speak of a lady!" exclaimed Miss Petty, who prided herself on her knowledge of forms of politeness, and thought that the word "woman" conveyed an insult.

"I won't say it of you," observed Shelah.

"I hope not indeed!" exclaimed Miss Petty.

"I'll say you're a cross bad woman!" cried the saucy child, with a look of defiance.

Miss Petty had already almost exhausted her zoological vocabulary on her troublesome Lammikin, but she had still one shaft left. "You little toad!" she cried, seizing the child by the arm, and dragging her by force towards the companion ladder. "I will shut you up in the cabin, I will, and you shall have no dinner till you humbly beg my pardon."

Shelah resisted, struggled, kicked and roared, and Miss Petty had no easy task to get her downstairs; but her guardian was resolute, especially as she heard some of the passengers laughing at the battle, and laying bets as to who would win it.

"This is painful," observed Mrs. Evendale, who longed to interpose, but felt that she had no right to do so.

"Miss Petty will ruin that child's temper," said Harold.

"And crack her voice; just hear how she screams!" added Robin.

The roaring was too loud to go on very long. In about five minutes it was succeeded by silence, and Miss Petty emerged from below, much ruffled in temper, and very red in the face.

"I've shut her in—she can't get out—I'll bring her into order, it's the only way to deal with such wild beasts," said the guardian, seating herself by Mrs. Evendale, and fanning herself with her handkerchief after her fight.

"Miss Petty, would you allow me to try if I can bring Shelah to herself?" said Mrs. Evendale, in a gentle, courteous manner.

"You'll never manage a child, you are a deal too soft," observed Miss Petty.

"I have brought up children," began the bereaved mother, but she could not finish the sentence, her voice faltered, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Let Mrs. Evendale try how she can manage," said Robin; and he thought to himself, "I am sure, that one reproving look from that sweet face would have had more effect with me when I was a child, than any amount of beating and abuse."

"Oh! Let Mrs. Evendale try what she can do!" exclaimed Theresa, wishing from her heart that the stranger would take full possession of the child, so long as all the credit and profit pertaining to the office of a guardian should fall to her own share.

Mrs. Evendale rose, crossed part of the deck, and descended the companion ladder. She proceeded to No. 6, but found the sliding door of that cabin secured from without by a piece of strong tape.

With some difficulty, the lady unfastened the knot; she then pushed back the door and entered the cabin just in time to see Shelah's booted feet projecting inwards from the port-hole, which she blocked up with her little body. The next instant the feet vanished, the port-hole was clear, there was the sound of a splash in the sea below, and the terror-stricken lady rushed up on deck, with the cry, "A child overboard!" ringing in her ears.