CHAPTER VIII.

CONCLUSION.

IN spite of the dreadful threats held before her by Mrs. Stanley, Lizzie went to sleep almost as soon as she lay down again on her unsavoury bed, and slept until the noise of the dogs and first shrieks of the steam whistle roused her. She jumped up then and threw open the door of the van, and began shaking the dresses of the ghastly wax figures, and whisking off the dust with a feather brush. Then she washed herself at a pail of water where the other girls had already gathered, and put on the pink tarlatan dress ready to begin her dreary work of the day.

After a hasty breakfast of dry bread and weak coffee, that had been allowed to get nearly cold, Lizzie took her place beside Lady Jane Grey, ready for the first group of visitors.

This fair lasted nearly the whole week, and as the weather was fine, and the wax-work show fairly successful, Mrs. Stanley's temper somewhat improved, and Lizzie began to hope she might escape the threatened beating after all. That such a beating as alone would satisfy Mrs. Stanley would kill her now she felt sure, for she was no longer the rosy healthy girl she was when she left home. She had begun to grow thin and careworn, and though the walnut-juice dye had changed the colour of her skin so that she could no longer look white, she began to look yellow and sickly, instead of the "nut-brown maid" Mrs. Stanley had designed she should be. This was especially noticeable when this week's work was over; for the confinement in the sickening atmosphere, and the fatigue of walking continually round the close confined space within the van, told upon the girl's strength so severely, that the last night of the fair she could scarcely do her treadmill task, and when at last the door was closed, and the steam whistle screeched its final blast, the poor girl sank down upon the floor more dead than alive.

"Here now! Just have a drop o' this, Lizzie," said a voice that sounded a long way off to the girl lying half-fainting on the floor of the van. She could hear the same voice repeat the words in the tones of entreaty and command, but she had no power to rouse herself or even open her eyes. At last her head was raised, and some fiery liquid poured down her throat that nearly choked her, and then she knew it was the hateful gin she had been made to swallow.

"No, no," she gasped, pushing the glass away from her when Tottie would again have put it to her lips.

"Look here, Liz, it ain't no good holding out agin it," said the girl persuasively. "I know what this wax-work van is. It just pumps the life out of ye, and the only thing to keep you going is a little drop o' gin. Mother always gave me a drop when I was here," she added.

But Lizzie still shook her head. "I promised Mother I never would touch it," she whispered faintly.

"Yes; but you can't keep a promise like that now," said Tottie. "Mother knows you can't keep on without it, and she says you must take it."

But Lizzie still shook her head. "I couldn't," she said. "I've been a wicked girl to my poor mother, but I'll just hold on to this; because it's the last and the only thing I can do for her."

"You're a fool then," said Tottie roughly; "and you'll just have to take your chances with Mother."

At that moment the van door was pushed open again, and Mrs. Stanley thrust her head in.

"Has she took it, Tottie?" she asked.

"Yes, she's had most of it," said the girl, holding up the glass to let her mother see that there was not much left in it. In point of fact, only the first few drops had been swallowed by Lizzie, the rest having been purposely spilled on the floor of the van by Tottie. But it served the purpose she had in view, and poor Tottie had never been taught the sin of lying.

Mrs. Stanley stood for a moment looking at the heap of tumbled pink tarlatan lying motionless on the floor, and her daughter, noticing the anxious look that came into her eyes, said in an indifferent tone:

"You'll have to serve her out some other way. A whacking will about do for her now. She's caved in quicker than I did."

"Humph! She'll never be worth her weight in gold to us after all, I'm afraid," grumbled Mrs. Stanley.

"You'll have to let her take it easy if she's ever to be any good," remarked Tottie. "I thought I'd get her bed in and make her comfortable," she added, handing the glass she held to her mother.

"All right. Bring her round if you can, for she does this show business very well, and you are getting on at the fortune-telling."

Saying which Mrs. Stanley went to see after some other business that needed her attention, leaving the two girls together.

If Lizzie heard what passed, she was too weak to notice it, and only roused herself again when Tottie dragged in her sack of straw, and tried to lift her on to it.

"Don't, don't!" she gasped, for every movement was so painful that she only desired to be left alone.

"But you must get this fine frock off," said Tottie, unhooking the pink tarlatan as she spoke. "I don't want another row with you and mother; and she'll be here again presently, and not so mild as she was the last time."

Lizzie knew what she meant, and roused herself sufficiently to draw her arms out of the sleeves as Tottie pulled them. No such luxuries as nightdresses were allowed her now, although she had brought her own with her. But Tottie contrived to get a blanket to cover her, and then, having made her as snug and comfortable as she could, she made haste out to the supper party, who had already commenced their meal.

They were not going to pack up to-night, for there was no hurry for them to be on the road again; and so there would be a feast with plenty of drink, and a probable fight at the end, which did not frighten Tottie as it did Lizzie, for she had been used to such scenes all her life. She did not care much for the carousing though now, for her cough was troublesome; and she decided to go and lie down beside Lizzie, where she should be sure to be quiet for the night.

Poor Lizzie made up her mind she was going to die before the week came to an end. Indeed she was very ill, and was allowed to lie on her straw bed in the van for some days. And Tottie sat beside her most of the time, and when she was able Lizzie talked to her about what she had learned at Sunday-school, and the dear mother and father and brother she had left behind.

Tottie was amazed to hear that her companion had a comfortable home with Mrs. Spencer, as well as kind considerate parents; for how she could leave these for the miseries of a life among gypsy folks, was more than she could comprehend.

"You mean to say you could live in a tidy house, and have meals regular, and go to bed every night, and yet want to live such a life as ours!" she exclaimed.

"I didn't know what your life was like," explained Lizzie. "I thought I was to have a fortune if I came with you. And I did so want to be able to wear fine ribbons, and lace, and grand dresses that servants can't have. And it was thinking about these things so much that made me dissatisfied with my place, and I thought if I could only get away from service, I should be happy. You may well say I was foolish," added the girl, with the tears in her eyes. "I was foolish and wicked too, I can see it plain enough now."

"Would you like to go back to that place again?" asked Tottie in a whisper, and cautiously looking towards the door as she spoke. They were jolting along the road now, travelling further into Scotland in the hope of finding it more profitable to them than England had been lately.

"It's no good thinking about going back," said Lizzie. "I've got no clothes, nor no money, and we get further and further away every day. Another thing, I should be ashamed to let people know what a fool I was, and—"

"Well, I'd go back if I'd got such a mother and a good place of service to go to," said Tottie. And then she added hastily, "But don't you go yet, Liz; promise me you won't go yet!"

Lizzie looked at her in surprise. "I'm not likely to get the chance," she said.

"But promise me you won't go if you do get the chance. Not—not till I'm gone!" whispered Tottie.

Lizzie looked at her companion, and for the first time she noticed how greatly the girl had changed during the last few days. The weather had grown colder, and the air was sharp and bleak, and Tottie coughed almost incessantly.

"Are you worse?" she asked in a tone of concern as the girl again broke into a violent fit of coughing.

When she could speak the girl gasped out, "I'm going to die, Liz. I'm not afraid now, since you told me about God and Jesus Christ; 'cos he knows everything, and he knows I've never had a chance here. And there's lots like me. So he must have a school of some sort up there, where he teaches gals like me. I've give up the gin since you told me he didn't like it. But I'd like you to stop with me till he comes to fetch me, and after that, you get back to your mother as fast as you can, and tell her not to grieve, and not to scold ye, for God sent you to bring a message to a poor gal, who couldn't have learned nothing about him if you hadn't run away from her."

"But-but Tottie, you ain't so very bad, are you?" said Lizzie in a little alarm. "You've had a cough you know a long time."

"Yes, I have; and I'm just upon wore out," said the girl gaspingly.

Neither dreamed how near the end was for poor Tottie when they had this talk, but a few weeks of wandering in the bleaker air of Scotland hastened the work of destruction that had been slowly going on in the outer shell of the girl's being, and one day when it was a little colder than usual, and Tottie's cough consequently rather more violent, she broke a blood vessel.

The sight alarmed Mrs. Stanley, and she ran for a doctor; for they were just outside a large town then, where a fair was to be held the following day. Tottie was carried to the parlour van, which was only used to receive company and tell fortunes. And doubtless this removal, when the poor girl was in such a critical condition, greatly aggravated the danger, although the place was more comfortable. The doctor came, and ordered that the van should be drawn on to the nearest piece of waste ground and there remain still. The fair-ground to which they were bound was on the other side of the town, and though Mrs. Stanley protested that the invalid could and must go there, the doctor was equally firm, and said she would be guilty of murder, if she moved the van further while Tottie was so bad.

"This girl can stay with her," he said. "She is not fit to do anything at the fair. Have you got a cough too?" he asked Lizzie.

"I've got a little cold, sir," said Lizzie.

"Yes, I can see you have; so you had better stop here and nurse this girl and yourself too, and I will send you both some medicines," saying which the doctor took up his hat and went away.

Mrs. Stanley fretted and fumed, and declared she could not do without Lizzie at the wax-works; but her husband, who lingered near, reminded her that they had better shut up the wax-works for a day than get into a row, and this doctor would be sure to make a fuss if they did not do what he ordered.

So after a good deal of grumbling, the van was drawn up on the quiet spot the doctor had pointed out, and the rest of the show properties went on to their destination.

Mrs. Stanley could not afford to stay with the girls, and as the bleeding had almost ceased now, she persuaded herself that Tottie would soon be better; and so, telling them she should come back as soon as the shows were set up, she followed the rest of the party.

Tottie had lain still and white, and taken no notice of what was going on while her mother and the doctor was speaking, but as soon as the door closed and they were left to themselves, she opened her eyes and looked at Lizzie eagerly. Lizzie knelt down beside the couch, and put her ear close, but it was a minute or two before she could make out what the murmured whispers could mean.

But at last she managed to make out these words: "Write—letter—quick—money—in—my—frock," and she laid her hand on the bosom of the ragged old dress she wore, and Lizzie, feeling it, found two or three sixpences tied up in a loose piece of the lining.

"Go—quick—get—paper," gasped the invalid, when she saw the sixpences in Lizzie's hand.

But Lizzie would not leave her friend for this now. "I'll hide it in my frock," she said, transferring it to a similar receptable in her own dress; "and I'll write, never fear."

But help was nearer than either of them supposed. Just as it was getting dark, and Lizzie stood at the door watching for the doctor's boy to bring the promised medicine, she saw a weary-looking lad trudging along the road with a basket of tools on his back. A second look convinced Lizzie that it was no other than her brother Jack, and she called eagerly:

"Jack, Jack, don't you know me?"

Jack stopped and almost staggered. There was one of the vans he had been so long in search of; but he did not recognize the girl in the fluttering rags, either by voice or appearance.

Lizzie clambered down while her brother was staring at her, and ran up to him.

"Don't you know me, Jack?" she said again, laying her hand on his shoulder.

"Is it Lizzie?" gasped the lad, looking earnestly at her.

"Oh! Jack, how is mother?" was the answer, as she burst into tears and threw herself into his arms. "Will she ever forgive me, do you think, for being such a wicked girl?"

"Yes, that she will," said Jack, as soon as he had recovered a little from his astonishment; and then he looked at the solitary van. Lizzie told him then how it was she had been left behind, and that Tottie had given her some money that she might write and tell her mother where she was.

"I can't leave her, Jack," she whispered, as they walked back to the van together hand in hand. "I promised her I'd stop with her—"

"Lizzie, Lizzie," called a faint but clear voice.

And Lizzie darted into the van, and kneeled down by Tottie's side.

"I'm going, Lizzie; they've sent an angel for me, and I can't stop here no longer. You go home to your mother."

"I'm going, Tottie. My brother has just come for me," said Lizzie, taking the dying girl's hand and pointing to Jack who had followed her into the van.

She turned her eyes upon him for a moment and whispered, "You are her brother?"

"Yes," said Jack; "and I don't mean to leave her again."

"Thank God!" came faintly forth; and then there was a fluttering sigh, and poor Tottie Stanley, the real Tottie who had been shut up in a suffering body so long, went out of that travelling van up to the home God has prepared for girls who have had no chances of knowing him here.

Lizzie burst into tears when she saw what had happened, and Jack turned to the door again.

Just then the doctor's boy came up, and took two bottles of medicine out of his basket and handed them up to Jack.

But instead of taking them he said, "Stop a minute, I want to speak to you;" and then he told him what had happened, and how he had come in search of his sister and just found her. "Now I want you to show me where your master lives," he added. "Come, Lizzie," he called; "I am going to this doctor, and you must go with me."

So Lizzie shut the door of the van and came down to Jack, still crying for the friend who had just left her. The slow-witted boy was amazed, but readily consented to show the brother and sister where his master lived.

The gentleman was a little surprised to hear Tottie had gone so soon, but still more to hear the tale the brother and sister had to tell.

"You had better get away from them as quickly and quietly as possible," he said. "You see you went with them of your own accord," he added, speaking to Lizzie, "and the only thing they could be accused of was stealing this fruit knife."

Lizzie's ragged forlorn appearance touched the gentleman's heart.

"I scarcely knew her when she called me," said Jack, when he made some comment upon this.

"And you say your father is ill from anxiety about her?" said the gentleman meditatively.

Lizzie stood shrinking back, softly crying, for she was so ashamed of her folly now, so sorry for the mischief she had caused, that she hardly liked to look the gentleman in the face while he and Jack were talking about her.

"I tell you what, my lad. You write to your parents to-night, and tell them you have found your sister, but she is not quite well enough to come home at once. I will write an order for her to be admitted to the hospital to be nursed up a bit, and meanwhile my sister shall try and get a few clothes together for her to go home, and look a little more like a respectable servant than she does now."

So Lizzie was taken at once to the hospital, put into a warm bath, and then went to a clean comfortable bed, such as she had scarcely hoped to sleep in again.

A week of comfortable rest and good food did much to restore Lizzie to her old appearance outwardly, but the real Lizzie was greatly changed from the thoughtless, discontented girl who ran away from her home and her duty that summer Sunday morning. By God's providence she had been changed, and henceforth she might be "worth her weight in gold;" but in a different way from that which either she or Mrs. Stanley intended.

The doctor got a few decent clothes, and gave Jack the money for her railway fare home—he had earned enough to pay for himself—and so, at last, the brother and sister returned; and Lizzie was thankful indeed when she heard that Mrs. Spencer was willing to give her another trial, since it had been clearly proved that she had not stolen the fruit knife.

To her mistress in after years, she proved "worth her weight in gold;" for no one could be more steady and reliable, more cheerful and content, than Lizzie was after her three months' sojourn with the gypsies.

THE END.