CHAPTER VII

A LETTER TO TOM

IT was a long drive, and both children slept soundly on the way.

At last they reached the Rectory. Mrs. Garland came out to meet them.

"Oh, you pickles!" she said, "Did you realise how anxious you were making us? If the telegram had not come, we should all be out now, scouring the country!"

"Did Chris come home?" asked Harebell.

"No. Did you not have him with you? Andrews has been round here inquiring for you; but thanks to the wire, I was able to tell him you were safe."

"Oh!" cried Harebell in real distress, "Chris is lost, what shall I do!"

Nobody seemed to care much about Chris. The farmer was given many thanks, and some refreshment; the little girls were given some supper and packed off to bed. Peter did not greet them very pleasantly.

"Girls never can play the game!" he said. "Sneaking off and getting on horseback! It wasn't fair a bit!"

"Slaves would get on anything to get away," said Harebell sharply. "They don't stop to think; you could have got on the donkey. But oh, dear! Nothing matters but Chris, where can he be!"

She tossed restlessly about in bed, and had a wakeful night. At six o'clock she slipped out of bed, dressed herself, and set off to see Andy.

He was very angry when he heard about the lost pony.

"I thought for sure you would put him up for the night somewhere! You don't deserve to be given a smart little pony like that, to go off and leave him loose on a high-road. Shame on you, Miss Harebell!"

Harebell began to cry. She returned to the Rectory disconsolately. Miss Forster scolded her for leaving the house without permission.

"You are a great deal too independent!" she said to her. "Whilst you are here you must ask permission to do things, just as you do your aunt."

"But," Harebell said, "that's just what I don't do! Aunt Diana doesn't trouble about me, and I don't trouble about her. She tells me not to do some things, that's all. I keep away from her all I can."

"I thought you were going to love her."

"Oh, I have tried, Miss Forster, I really have! I've said it over to myself hundreds of times in bed, but my inside won't do it."

Harebell was very miserable all that day. Andy and the Rector's groom started off in search of the lost pony, and his little mistress tried to do her lessons, but the day seemed as if it would never end. But at six o'clock Peter came running in from the garden.

"Chris is found! Andy is at the gate, and wants Harebell—"

Harebell flew out. The next moment her arms were round her pet, and her head resting on his silky mane. Chris bent his head round and nosed her face gently.

"Oh, Chris darling! Where have you been?"

"A farmer met him, and stabled him with his horses for the night. He could not make out where he hailed from. But we heard on it and went straight off. I'll exercise Chris till your aunt comes back, Miss Harebell. I dursn't trust him out with you after this!"

"I don't care! He's safe! He's found!"

Harebell was ecstatic in her joy. She could hardly tear herself away from her pet, till Andy reminded her, he would be wanting his feed; and then she reluctantly let him go, and watched him down the road with adoring eyes.

"Oh!" she said, throwing herself impulsively into the arms of Mrs. Garland, who came out to see what the children were doing, "I have joy again! Isn't it wonderful how different things seem when you're happy?"

"So they do, childie!"

Mrs. Garland stroked her head.

Harebell quivered; then looked up at her with big eyes. "I wish I had you for my mother! I want some one like you dreadfully at Gable Lodge—Goody is kind, but she's never stroked my head like you, only brushed it. Mothers are different to anybody else, aren't they?"

"I do believe they are," said Mrs. Garland, smiling. "You must be an adopted daughter of mine for the time; but don't give us many more days like yesterday. They are too tiring!"

"I won't! I won't! Peter will have to do the running away himself the next time. I'll tell him so!"

Then a settled gravity came over her face. She took hold of Mrs. Garland's hands, and squeezed them tightly.

"I want to write Tom Triggs a letter. You will let me, won't you? He is ill, and Aunt Diana said I wasn't to speak to him, but she did let Mr. Garland take me to him, and I saw a lovely picture of the Door, yesterday, and I want to tell him about it. I'm simply thirsting to write to him!"

"Oh, Harebell!"

Mrs. Garland's eyes laughed; then she stooped and kissed her.

"Yes, you may write now, if you like. There's a little quiet corner in the drawing-room. Bring your letter there. I am writing too; and Peter and Nan will be having their romp in the schoolroom."

It was a great treat to be invited into the drawing-room. Harebell was delighted. For nearly three-quarters of an hour she was busy with her letter. First she wrote it in pencil, then she copied it out in ink. Mrs. Garland did not ask to see it; she gave her a stamp and told her how to address the envelope.

Then Harebell laid it open in her lap.

"I'd like you to see it. I'm afraid it's badly spelt, but I was so awfully earnest, I couldn't stop to think. You see he must, he must get through that Door somehow. And I want him to get through at once."

This was Harebell's letter:

"MY DEAR TOM,—I hope you are better. I wonder all day how you are. I saw a lovely picksher yesterday it was the Door—I wood like you to have been there. The sheep were going in fast. It was dark outside and in the distance was a wulf. It was light and comfertabel inside. The Lord was holding out His Arms.

"Have you got in yet Tom? I wish Someone would push you, but if sheep run in, I'm sure you can if you try. The clergyman said tell him it's one step only—but he must bend his head. He said you wood never get in if you don't bend your head, he said it was proude not to bend. Do bend and get in dear Tom and rite and tell me you are inside.

"I am in grate truble over you becorse I saw a Bible verse about the wicked who can't inherite the Kingdom of God, and a drunkarde was in them, and you'll never be a drunkarde any more if you get through the Kingdom's Door. I'll begin and find your wife as soon as I have time, but please dear Tom get through the Door first.

"And rite to me when You are through. I'm asking God every night to give you a push, and I hope you're nearly through.

"Your loving friend, "HAREBELL."

"This is it: 'I am the door. If any man enter in, he shall be saved.'"

Mrs. Garland sat very grave and still, reading the letter. Then she handed it back to Harebell.

"Seal the envelope, dear, and it shall go by the post to-night."

Then she put her arm round Harebell.

"Are you through that Door yourself, darling?"

Harebell nodded.

"Yes; God seems to tell me I'm through. But, Mrs. Garland, can people ever run out of the Kingdom again and be lost? I want to know when I'm naughty. Can I be naughty in the Kingdom, or have I to run outside the Door and be it?"

"Lambs are sometimes naughty in the sheepfold," said Mr. Garland slowly. "If Jesus is your Shepherd, Harebell dear, we have His Word that He will keep you. But if you do run away from Him of your own accord, turn back at once when you remember what you're doing, and He will forgive you and receive you again."

Harebell nodded. Then she flew off to post her letter.

And the next moment, Mrs. Garland heard her adding her shrieks to the romp in the schoolroom.

Two days after this, Harebell received rather a dirty-looking letter by the post. She opened it with great importance, and found it was from Tom. Only a few lines, but she came to Mrs. Garland with tears in her eyes over it.

"DEAR MISSY,—Tom Triggs begs to say if drunkards cant inherite, they cant, so outside Tom stays and his leg is herting him shocking, and this place be no place for him with its slops of grool, and such like, and he be like to die here, if he cant get out soon. Yours respeck.

"TOM TRIGGS."

"I've told him all wrong, haven't I?" sobbed Harebell. "Oh, I wish I could go and see him. I'm sure Aunt Diana would let me if you were to take me."

"I think you must wait till your aunt comes back. I have heard from her this morning. She is returning home in about a week's time. Don't fret about Tom, dear. It will do him good to lie there and think, and he won't be able to get at the beer. Now I want you to think about your aunt. She has asked me to explain things to you."

"I'm afraid I don't care about thinking of her," said Harebell, a little crossly. "I like Tom much better—"

"Oh no, you don't! You are interested in Tom, and you want him to give up drinking, but your aunt has fed and clothed you and given you a happy home. You belong to her. Your mother was her sister; and she has had a sad life, and has found it very difficult to have a little wild niece upsetting her house and her quiet ways!"

Harebell's bright eyes were fixed upon Mrs. Garland's face.

"Have I upset her? Talk to me about her."

"That is just what I want to do. Only we must be quiet and undisturbed. There is still half an hour before lessons begin. Shall we go into the garden, as it is such a bright morning? Come with me to the summer-house."

Harebell danced out into the bright spring sunshine. Tom was forgotten for the time.

The summer-house was at the end of the lawn under an old medlar-tree.

Mrs. Garland sat down on the low bench inside it and drew Harebell to her side.

"Your aunt wants me to explain things to you before she comes back. Did you ever hear of your Uncle Herbert?"

Harebell's cheeks got crimson. For a moment she hesitated; then said frankly:

"Yes, Andy told me about him; only he said I was not to tell, or he would get into trouble."

"I shall not repeat anything. How much did he tell you, I wonder?"

"He told me Uncle Herbert wasn't dead, but was abroad, and that he had gone away one day when he and Aunt Diana were very angry with each other. I felt very sorry, and begged God to find him and send him back. Has Aunt Diana heard where he is and gone to him?"

Harebell's face was alive with excitement and interest now.

"Yes, dear. She wants you to know about it. You are a little girl and cannot understand about grown-up people. But we very often are no different to naughty children, only we are bigger; it has been a great sorrow to her, and I am sure it has been a sorrow to him. He has returned to England very ill, and when he reached London, the doctor told him he must have an operation or he would die. Then he wrote to your aunt, and asked her to come to him; and she went off at once, as you know. The operation has been successful, and your aunt is coming home with him next week. She has had a sad life for many years, and now I hope she will have a happy one."

"Then I expect she's melted at last?"

"How do you mean?"

"Oh, she has been a snow queen, you know! I've always felt it. I'm very glad, Mrs. Garland. It will be so nice to have an uncle. Perhaps he will be like Mr. Graham, or is he like Aunt Diana? Does Andy know? He'll be so pleased. He says a house without a master is as bad as a garden without a gardener! It is simply lovely! You know when Andy told me about it, I prayed hard to God about him, and asked Him to bring him back. Then I forgot all about it. That's the worst of me, I never keep on—but there's always fresh things happening. I'm telling God about Tom now, and that's very special—and I can't think of everybody, every day."

"I think you ought to thank God for answering your prayers about your uncle. We so often forget to say 'Thank you' for what He sends us."

Harebell looked very grave.

"I expect Aunt Diana won't want me, now she will have Uncle Herbert. She never did want me, you know. You said so!"

Mrs. Garland was about to speak, but she was suddenly called to the house by the Rector, and the little talk was over.

Harebell again found it difficult to give her attention to her lessons.

"It's so exciting having a new uncle!" she said to Miss Forster. "I keep wondering all the time about him!"

That afternoon Miss Forster took them out for a walk, and Mrs. Garland asked them to take some soup to a bed-ridden old woman.

To Harebell's great delight, the woman proved to be the one living in the cottage by the old oak-tree. She eagerly asked if she might take the soup in, and Miss Forster agreed, sending Nan in with her, whilst she and Peter waited outside. The young woman opened the door and smiled at Harebell, as she recognised her at once. She Was very grateful for the soup.

Then a sudden impulse took possession of Harebell. She asked Nan to take the soup upstairs to the old woman.

"I want to talk to Miss Crake," she said importantly.

Nan meekly stumped up the wooden stairs to the old woman's bedroom.

Fanny Crake looked a little surprised when Harebell sidled up mysteriously to her.

"I do want to talk to you! I want you to be Tom Triggs' wife, will you? He wants one badly, and he'll give up his beer, and come and live in this cottage with you, if you say 'yes.' He's so ill—poor Tom! He broke his leg—and he's in hospital. He told me he mended your gate, so I hope you'll marry him. I'm very fond of Tom, but Aunt Diana won't let me talk to him any more, so it will be difficult, but if you go and see him in hospital, you can settle it up with him. Will you?"

Fanny began to laugh.

"What a funny little lady you are! We don't do things in that sort of way, and Tom is not a good match for any respectable girl! He's much too fond of his glass."

"But he hasn't anybody else to be fond of—poor Tom! I do feel so sorry for him! Everybody says he's so wicked, but I don't believe he is. Of course, I haven't seen many really wicked people, so I don't know what they're like. There was a black man in India who killed his little baby girl. Now Tom hasn't killed anybody. He saved a little boy and got hurt himself. And I'm asking God to take him inside the Door, and if you would only say you would marry him, he would cheer up and be happy and good. I've promised him to find him a wife somewhere. And you've got such a nice cottage, that you seem just the one he wants."

"No," said Fanny, smiling and shaking her head; "if a man wants to marry, 'tis his business to get a cottage, and a living, and then the girl may consider the matter, but 'tis not for her to give her husband, her mother's cottage, and make a home for him! 'Tis all the wrong way round—that is!"

Harebell looked very disappointed.

"I did hope you would say 'yes.' But if he gets work and a cottage and never drinks any beer, you couldn't simply say 'no' to him. You must be his wife! And I shall help him to get a cottage if he can. We thought of this one, because he was going to have it ever so long ago, but the woman was very unkind to him, so he couldn't marry; and then he said the devil got hold of him. But now God is going to get hold of him. I think He will."

She paused for breath. Nan came downstairs; Miss Forster called to them from outside; and Harebell reluctantly had to go away. Seeing her downcast face, Fanny good-naturedly said:

"Never mind, little miss! If Tom Triggs knocks off the drink and gets in good work, he'll find a wife if he wants one. He's a good workman, Tom is, he's done our gate fine! 'Tis a thousand pities he's let himself down so! You keep on at him to make himself respectful again! He has a good home, and a good mother and sister, and ought to be fair ashamed of himself to live the life he's doing!"

Harebell joined Miss Forster and said to her emphatically:

"I've had a great big disappointment. And it seems to me that I'm not a bit of good at all—at least, not for getting wives for people!"

Miss Forster laughingly tried to win her confidence; but Harebell shook her head, and refused to say any more. The next day she asked if she might go and see Miss Triggs. Mrs. Garland hesitated at first; then gave permission. Peter and Nan grumbled.

"You're no good at all," said Peter. "We thought you'd be splendid for games—you don't care for cricket and hockey. You're always full of your own plans, and visiting stupid people in the village. You think of rotten things to do, and like going off and doing them alone."

"And dressmakers and drunkards are so low," said Nan, with turned up nose. "You like them better than us."

Harebell looked thoughtfully at her accusers.

"I suppose," she said slowly, "it's because I always like interesting things to happen. Your games don't interest me. It's nothing but hitting balls, and nothing happens if you do win the game; you only begin all over again. Now a lot could happen when I see Tom and his sister—exciting things—and I want to make them come. And if I go to see people, they tell me all kinds of things I want to know, and you don't. You only laugh at me."

"Oh, you're just a little grown-up!" said Nan impatiently. "You might just as well put on long dresses, and turn up your hair, and go about the village as mother does. That's what you like doing!"

"It's all because you think so much of yourself," said Peter. "You're too cocky for us! You like to pretend you're clever, and are too old for games!"

"I love games! And you're very rude! But you and Nan always play together and don't want me, and when I join you, you laugh at me for being so stupid. I don't understand England, and I don't like it half as much as India, and I shall be glad when I go back to Aunt Diana's!"

Harebell flung herself out of the room, feeling hot and indignant. And yet in a measure, she knew what Peter and Nan had said of her was true. She did not enjoy playing with them, her head at this juncture was full of Tom and of his affairs, and she could think of nothing else.