The Little Missis Part 32

"I say, it's just like her."

"That may be, but that doesn't say it's wise."

"You are too hard on these men, Lizzie. They can afford no luxuries, no hobbies, and there is little wonder they go to the public-house. I often think if I had a home like they have I should do the same myself; there is nowhere else that is bright and attractive for them to go. As for their thanks, I don't want them; besides, my name is not to be mentioned in connection with the scheme. But before I die I hope to be able to clear off the mortgage. As for my boy he can always get a living out of the business. I have no need to provide further than that for him."

Turning to Stephen: "Will you do this for me, Mr. Collins?"

"I will." No marriage-vow was given with more earnestness.

"Well, you are the funniest woman that ever G.o.d made," exclaimed the sister.

When the time came to separate, Phebe would not hear of either her sister or Stephen accompanying her, though the night was dark. They went as far as the garden-gate with her, and as they stood there after she had left them, Stephen said in a choked voice: "You call her the funniest woman G.o.d made: I call her the best and the bravest."

"So she is," the sister replied frankly; "but then it doesn't do to tell her so, does it?"

"I only wish I might," was his low response.

As the sister walked up the path again to the silent old home she whispered to herself: "Poor old Steve! Dear old fellow! What a queer world this is!"

While Phebe was away from home that evening Nanna sat for a while in the desk in the grocery department; she often did so when a quiet time was expected. "I shall write a book some day," she used to say, "and the t.i.tle will be 'From the Mangle to the Desk.'" Certainly she looked wonderfully wise there with her spectacles on her nose.

All at once she was attracted by the sound of a voice. Her memory for faces was very defective, but for voices very acute. Where had she heard that voice before? Looking up she saw a tall, elderly, shabby-looking man, who every now and again gave a little hacking cough. She watched him as he bought half an ounce of tea, a rasher of bacon, one egg, and half a pound of sugar. Then she heard him say to Reynolds, who was serving him:

"Who owns this shop?"

"Mrs. Waring."

"I wondered who 'P. Waring' was: it used to be 'R. Waring.'"

"Yes."

"Where is Ralph Waring now?"

"I don't know--he went abroad on business."

A little stifled laugh: "Oh, did he?"

Nanna saw that Reynolds suddenly looked up and gave the man a searching look. When he had gone Reynolds went up to the desk. He was too agitated to speak, and Nanna was feeling just the same. At last she managed to say:

"Follow him!" pointing to the door.

Just as he was Reynolds rushed to the door; he looked to the right, he looked to the left, but the questioning customer with his cough and his laugh was out of sight, for the gathering gloom of the chilly autumn night made escape easy.

It might have been a December night the way Reynolds was s.h.i.+vering. "Was it----?" he asked in a hoa.r.s.e whisper as he returned to the desk.

"Yes," was all her answer. Then, "I must go at once and meet the mistress."

"Let me go."

"No, that would never do. She would wonder what was the matter, and as long as possible we must keep it from her."

As fast as she could the dear old lady hurried along the lonely country road. The little, stifled sarcastic laugh was still sounding in her ears, a laugh that spoke of a heart unchanged except as trouble had soured it.

At last she heard footsteps--light ones--she could see a woman's form!

Yes, it was her dear Phebe, and, thank G.o.d, she was alone!

"Why, Nanna!" exclaimed Phebe, as soon as she recognised her; "whatever brought you out a night like this?"--kissing her on the cheek and taking hold of her arm.

"To take care of you, dearie, to be sure; and, besides, I wanted a walk."

"On a night like this?"

"Yes, I felt stifled like," which was quite true.

Phebe's suspicions were aroused, but finding all well at home, concluded it was just some whim of the dear old soul's, or else she had suddenly been seized with some unaccountable fear, as is sometimes the case even with young folks.

CHAPTER XXV

BESSIE COMES TO THE RESCUE

For nearly ten years Ralph Waring had been a homeless wanderer, getting a living in a variety of ways. Of course things had gone well with him while he had money in his pocket, but when that had melted away his appreciative friends suddenly disappeared. Like other folks in that new country he had plenty of opportunities of getting on, but like so many others he wanted the top rung of the ladder first, and found that such a leap did not come within the bounds of possibility. Every bottom rung he was compelled to try proved too prosaic, and years were spent in becoming familiar with a whole series of bottom rungs.

All the letters he had sent to Phebe had been under cover to Stephen Collins; even the one Stephen Collins had himself placed in the desk had been directed to him. Why Ralph had done this it would be difficult to say. His motive may have been the wish to provide Phebe during his absence with a reliable helper, but it was very questionable if he had really sufficient regard for either of them to do that.

The letters ceased just as soon as his "castles in the air" came to grief. He could never bring himself to write to Phebe of defeat. He was once tempted to make up a story of good fortune, but had sufficient good sense left to know that should Fortune continue to frown upon him this would only add to his annoyance. No, it was better she should think him dead than poor.

It was three years since his illness came upon him. He struggled against it with a heroism that would have placed him on the top rung if it had been shown earlier and in other ways. Then a feeling of home-sickness came over him; or perhaps it was that he missed the tender ministry of loving hands.

But how was he to get home? There was no other way than to work his pa.s.sage over, and that he must do at once before he got too weak to do so. A berth as a.s.sistant-steward was secured, and in a few hours after setting foot on English soil he found himself in the old country town of Hadley.

His first impulse was to go straight to Phebe and pour out his heart to her, with all its bitter disappointments. Then his usual cautious habit rea.s.serted itself--he would first of all make inquiries.

After taking a very humble lodging he soon found out the position Phebe held in the town, and then his chagrin knew no bounds. He wished himself back again a hundred times over in the land of strangers--what a fool he had been! However, she should never have an opportunity of lording over him. "R. W." would stand for "Richard Wood" equally well as "Ralph Waring." A very old school-fellow had failed to recognise him, so it was not likely Phebe would. It was this strong belief in his changed appearance rendering his ident.i.ty impossible that made him enter the shop. He quite chuckled over the way in which he had "done" Reynolds, and tried the experiment a second time. Reynolds was in the shop and again served him. As soon as he left the stolid look disappeared from Reynolds' face, and quick as lightning he despatched a shop-boy to follow "the tall, thin man with a cough" to see where he went. "Don't show yourself, though," was his parting injunction.

The lad did his "shadowing" in quite a professional manner, and returned with the answer: "63 Dutton Street."

"63 Dutton Street!" repeated Reynolds to himself. "Well, I never! Things get worse and worse! I mustn't tell Mrs. Colston that, the poor old dear! I won't let out he's been in again."

After Ralph Waring had made his second lot of purchases and paid his lodgings a week in advance, he had one solitary half-crown left. He had no watch or anything with him he could sell or p.a.w.n; possessing absolutely nothing but the thin, shabby clothes he stood up in. He turned the silver coin over in his hand, and muttered: "Only that between me and the workhouse!"

Day after day Nanna kept her secret from Phebe. How could she tell her!

How could she bring such a double fold of gloom over her! And day after day she prayed for G.o.d's clear guidance.

At every opportunity she kept a stealthy watch over every customer who came into the shop, and all the day she was for ever listening for that hollow, rasping cough.