CHAPTER VIII

A NEW UNCLE

HAREBELL found Miss Triggs working at her sewing-machine in the back kitchen. Mrs. Triggs was in her armchair, and she was knitting a stocking. Harebell shook hands gravely with both of them.

"I thought I'd like to see you," she said to Miss Triggs, "because you can tell me how Tom is!"

"So I can!" said Miss Triggs cheerfully. "I've been telling mother about him. I went to see him yesterday, and he's doing fine. His leg is healing wonderful, and he's happier like in himself. He let me read a bit to him yesterday."

"What did you read him?"

"Just a story from the old Book; the bit that tells of a poor sick wounded man, and how some one showed love to him, and nursed him, and took care of him."

"I don't remember. Do you mean out of the Bible?"

"Yes, the Good Samaritan."

"Tell me about it. I don't believe I've heard it. I don't know all the Bible, you know."

Miss Triggs stopped her sewing-machine.

"I'll baste a bit of this dress, for I can talk better when the machine is not going."

She told in simple words the story of the traveller who was robbed and nearly murdered on a lonely road, and how, though several people would not stop to help him, one good man came and bound up his wounds, and put him on his ass, and took him to the nearest inn, where he said he was to be rested and fed and taken care of, and he would pay his expenses. Harebell listened entranced. And then Miss Triggs said softly:

"I told Tom it was just a picture of him, and the Lord is bending over him, and wanting to cure him, if he'll only let Him do it."

"Doesn't he want his leg mended?"

"Ay, that he does, but 'tis his sick soul the Lord wants to handle. I told him he trusted the doctor about his leg, and so why couldn't he just give over his soul to the Lord to be made sweet and whole. He seemed rare softened, he did!"

"And I suppose if he gave it, he'd never drink again!"

"The Lord would keep him," said Miss Triggs, almost in a whisper.

"It would be lovely!" said Harebell earnestly. "I wish I could go and see Tom! Aunt Diana won't let me; and now she's away. Will you take him a message from me? It's a very solemn one."

"Yes, he did ask me if I'd seen you. I hadn't, so could tell him nothing."

"Well, please tell him that Fanny Crake says that the drinking must stop first, and then the work must begot, and then the wife comes next. I don't know about the cottage; that will come last, I s'pose. Will you be sure to tell him Fanny said it. He'll understand, for I think she'd do very well, only she won't think about it now. It's rather nasty of her, because it would cheer him up so, wouldn't it? I'm sure we ought to try to make him happy—poor Tom! He says nobody cares for him!"

Mrs. Triggs had not paid much attention to the conversation, but she now turned her head sharply round.

"Is that my Tom you be speakin' of? His mother cares for him more'n all the world! He was such a handsome baby—took arter his father—who were a fine, upstandin' man, but with a taste for the beer. Tom be made arter the same pattern. An' I says if God and Natur' made him so, why blame the poor lad? An' he never have given his mother an unkind word!"

"I like Tom very much," Harebell answered her eagerly. "And when Aunt Diana comes back I'll beg her with tears to let me go and see him, and I'll find him a wife as quick as ever I can!"

"A wife?" screamed the old woman. "You let my Tom be! What do he want a wife for? He have a good home, and there isn't a girl in this village who'd do him aught but harm. Idle worthless hussies they be! Go on with you! A wife, indeed!"

Harebell looked frightened. She said good-bye and slipped away. Miss Triggs said in a whisper to her:

"Never you mind mother, dear. She don't mean to be rude, but she don't take kindly to a wife for Tom, and I can't say he ought to have one, unless his heart gets changed, and his life too!"

Harebell went back to the Rectory slowly and thoughtfully, but when she found Peter and Nan had put up a swing in the orchard, and were enjoying themselves upon it, she joined them gleefully. They forgot their squabble, and she was a happy light-hearted child again.

The return of her aunt was the next event. Mrs. Garland kept her till after the arrival, and when Harebell went home the next day, the whole house seemed to have altered its ways.

There was a man's coat and hat in the hall. A strange man-servant was sitting in the pantry talking to Andy. A little cheerful bustle pervaded the house. There was a smell of tobacco in the morning-room. Two or three newspapers and pipes lay on the table.

Mrs. Keith came out of the drawing-room to greet Harebell. The child was so startled at the difference in her aunt's face that all fear of her vanished. Putting up her slim little arms, she clasped her round the neck.

"Your ice has gone!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I'm so very glad!"

And Mrs. Keith did not stare, or frown, or reprove her coldly for such words. She looked tired, but very happy, and there was a light and softness in her eyes that had never been there before. "Would you like to see your uncle? You must be very quiet, as he is quite an invalid at present. But I have told him about you. Come this way."

Harebell trod on tip-toe, with eager eyes and a beating heart. On a couch near the open window was a grey-haired man propped up with pillows. His hands looked white and thin; his face was lined with pain; he had a hooked nose, and thick bushy eyebrows, but when he saw Harebell, both his lips and eyes smiled.

"The little niece! Come and welcome a poor old sick soldier, who isn't worth the trouble he gives."

"I'm so very glad you're here," said Harebell standing before him with clasped hands. "Me and God have talked you over often, and God seemed to tell me He would send you back soon."

If Colonel Keith was surprised at such a welcome, he did not show it. He looked at his wife, and his eyes grew soft and tender. Then he spoke to Harebell.

"Life deals hardly with those who quarrel with her. Don't you let your passions ever get mastery of your love, little woman."

"I don't understand a bit what you mean."

"And there is no need that you should," said her aunt a little sharply.

Colonel Keith put his hand on his wife's arm, as she stood by his couch. Her voice softened at once.

"Come and sit down and talk to your Uncle Herbert; I must go away for a little. I have letters to write."

So Harebell took a chair by the couch, and when her aunt had left the room, her tongue began to move, and she poured into her uncle's ear a flood of talk. She told him of her home in India, of Chris, of the Rectory children, of Tom Triggs and his sister and his mother, of Fanny Crake and her mother, and the little cottage. But she did not talk much of her aunt, and Colonel Keith noticed the omission. Harebell found him as good a listener as Mr. Graham. She ended up by saying impulsively:

"I do like you so much, Uncle Herbert! You quite understand what I mean. I haven't to keep explaining; Andy thinks me quite easy and understandable, he says, but Goody is always saying I amaze her. I've always said I like men better than I do women."

"But you can't and must not like me better than your aunt!" expostulated Colonel Keith. "You don't know what trouble I brought upon her by my hot temper and wicked pride! She has suffered, and yet now has no reproach upon her lips. I'm a bad lot, and she's a saint!"

Harebell did not answer for a minute; then she said solemnly:

"I'll try and like you both the same."

Certainly she found life much gayer now. Her aunt and uncle were much together, and she was left more than ever to her own devices; but when she was with them at meals, her busy tongue was no longer repressed. Her uncle encouraged her to talk, and liked to hear all about her lessons and play. Her aunt's voice was getting softer, her smiles were more frequent. And as for Andy, his old face was radiant with happiness.

"Ah! The good old times have come back," he said to Harebell. "The days of mourning are over for this old house."

The little girl nodded.

"I haven't to hush about the house any more, I can almost make as much noise as they do at the Rectory."

It was not very long before she begged permission from her aunt to go and see Tom Triggs again. Mrs. Keith did not actually refuse her; but she said she must wait. And then one day at the Rectory, Nan informed her that Tom was very nearly well, and was going away from the village altogether. Harebell was much surprised, and rather uneasy.

"Why is he going away? How can he leave his mother? Oh, I must see him, and ask him all about it."

It happened to be a Saturday, and every Saturday, Harebell dined at the Rectory and spent her half-holiday there.

"We'll go and see him this afternoon," suggested Nan. "Peter wants to see him, don't you, Peter? Tom is making him a box with lock and key to keep his birds' eggs in. He's out of hospital, and living with his mother."

"That will be lovely!" exclaimed Harebell. It was only when she was actually starting with them, that she remembered her aunt had not given her permission to do it. With a little hesitation, she told Nan and Peter that perhaps she had better not go.

"Go home and ask your aunt," said Peter; but Nan vehemently opposed this suggestion.

"We have no time. It's such a long way off; and if we go to the village, we can go on to the woods and have some fun."

Harebell hesitated.

"I'll go," cried Peter, "on my bicycle. I'll go, and catch you up before you get to the village."

Peter had only lately owned a bicycle, so he liked to use it on every occasion.

Harebell brightened up.

"That will be jolly! And I don't believe Aunt Diana will say 'no' to you."

He rode off at full speed, and the little girls walked in the direction of the village. They had barely reached it before he overtook them.

"Can I go?" Harebell asked him eagerly.

"Yes," he said.

She skipped for joy. Tom's future held a big place in her thoughts, and she was delighted to see him again.

"Oh, do come on," she besought the others when the village sweet shop brought them to a standstill.

"I want some bull's eyes," said Peter.

He wheeled his cycle up to the shop, leant it against the wall, and then disappeared inside. Nan followed him.

Harebell stamped with impatience: then determined not to wait for them, and walked on quickly to Mrs. Triggs' cottage.

She had one more check.

Colonel Keith was coming out of the post office and met her. He was rapidly getting stronger, and now got about in a low pony trap, which for the present, he hired.

"Hulloa!" he said. "Where are you going?"

"I'm with Peter and Nan. We're going to see Tom Triggs. He's going away."

"Oh, that's your friend, is it? And your aunt knows?"

Colonel Keith knew all about the forbidden visits; for Harebell had besought him to help her, and he had been doing his best in that way.

"Oh yes," Harebell said with assurance; "she has given me leave to-day."

"And is it to be a wife, or work, or a cottage?" Harebell laughed, and ran on. She was breathless when she stood at the cottage door.

Tom himself came to open it, and smiled all over his face when he saw who it was.

"Why, I thought you and me was friends no longer!" he said.

Harebell seized hold of his hand.

"Oh, Tom, dear Tom, don't go away! Do stay and have a little cottage here. I don't want you to go."

He led her into the little parlour.

"Hessie be out to-day, and mother and me be mindin' each other."

"And how's your leg?"

Tom swung it slowly to and fro.

"Near as good as ever 'twas! You see, missy, I be what you call going on the tack. And I have an offer of work in a town firm. 'Tis a contrac' for some big house, ten mile or so away. 'Twill be a change and a beginning! But I ain't goin' so very far arter all!"

Harebell smiled.

"Did you get any message about Fanny? That's what she said—the drinking to be given up first, and then the work and then the wife?"

Tom's eyes twinkled.

"That there Fanny be too forward. Her must wait till her is axed!"

"Oh, but I asked her; I besoughted her; I begged her with all my heart, to marry you just as you were, and very quickly too! She was a great disappointment to me; I did hope she would have married you directly you came out of hospital!"

Tom threw his head back, and laughed aloud. There was a clearer look in his eyes, and he held his head higher than he had ever done before.

"I shan't sit down and cry, if her don't want me," he said. "I can't keep a wife just at present. The girls be too expensive in these days."

Harebell was silent. This seemed quite a new Tom; a man who could scorn a wife was beyond her comprehension.

"And you're never going to a nasty public-house again?"

"Ay, well, there be no tellin'; but I ain't visitin' the 'Black Swan' just now."

"Tom," said Harebell looking up at him with solemn eyes, "are you through?"

His eyes met hers rather gravely.

"Through? How d'ye mean?"

"Through the Door? You know I almost think you are. And I believe that's the first thing of all to be done. I wonder if you did it first."

"I wonder," said Tom, in a low grave voice, looking over Harebell's head as he spoke.

"I wish you'd tell me. Because we'd be on the same side, then. I ask God every day to keep me on the right side, the inside you know, and not to let me run out."

"Hi! Tom! Where's my box?"

Peter's shrill voice coming up the garden-path interrupted them. There was no more opportunity for serious talk. Tom took the children to the backyard where he was working, and for half an hour they stayed there chattering and watching him complete Peter's egg-box. Then they left him, and went on to the woods, where they had a very happy time.

Coming home, Harebell said:

"Haven't we had a jolly afternoon? And isn't Tom Triggs nice? Quite different to when he was drinking!"

Peter edged up to her.

"I want to tell you a secret. Go on, Nan; it isn't for you."

Nan laughed.

"I'm not a bit curious. You never have interesting secrets, Peter."

She obligingly crossed the road. Peter sank his voice to a whisper.

"You needn't think your aunt gave you leave to go and see Tom, for she didn't. You'd better keep quiet about it, and not let her know you went."

"Oh, Peter, what do you mean?"

"Don't shout, you stupid! I did go to ask her; but she was out, so I couldn't!"

"But you told a lie! You said she had given me leave."

"I didn't!" said Peter, a little sullenly. "You asked me if you could go, and I said, 'Yes.' I didn't say anything about your aunt!"

Harebell stopped still in the road. He dragged her on by the arm.

"There's nothing to make a fuss about! I didn't tell a lie. You needn't say a word about going to Tom. Tell her you went to the woods, if she asks you."

"But I met Uncle Herbert, and told him I was going to Tom, and I told him aunt had given me leave to go!"

"You were a little fool."

Then he changed his tone.

"Look here, Harebell, don't you get me into a row. Don't split, will you? You aren't a sneak, and it would be awfully mean to tell tales. You see, your aunt and uncle are coming to dinner to-night at our house, and they'd make a row over it. I only wanted you to have a good time. I needn't have interfered at all, and it wasn't a lie, and of course they'd think it was, they'd never understand. I'll never forgive you if you split!"

"Oh, I won't say a word about you! You needn't be afraid."

Harebell's voice was scornful.

Peter got rather red in the face.

"Such a fuss about nothing!" he muttered. "I don't expect your aunt will care where you've been. You can tell her you had to come with us; you couldn't help yourself."

Harebell did not speak. Then she said slowly:

"I have told lies myself in India, but not since I've been in England. I couldn't have done it, as you did!"

"I didn't tell a lie."

Peter left her and joined Nan. They were rather a constrained trio for the rest of their walk. Nan remarked—

"You and Peter don't seem to have enjoyed the secret."

And Harebell said quickly:

"I shouldn't think so!"

When they reached the Rectory, Harebell said good-bye. She kissed Nan, but turned her back on Peter.

"Remember!" he called after her threateningly.

"You needn't be afraid!" she retorted.

But she entered her aunt's house with a sinking heart.