Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles Part 113

"Yes, and that is not the worst," said William. "Men are asking to join every day, and they cannot be taken in."

"_I_ can't think how you manage to get so many--and to keep them."

"I suppose the chief secret is, that their interest enters into it. We contrive to keep that up. Most of them would not go back to the Horned Ram for the world."

"Well, where shall you stow them?"

"It is more than I can say, sir. We must manage it somehow."

"Henry told me you were ambitious enough to aspire to the Mormon failure."

"I was foolish enough to do so," replied William, with a laugh. "Seeing it was very much in the condition of the famed picture taken of the good Dr. Primrose and his family--useless--I went and offered a rent for it--only a trifling sum, it is true; but if our fires only kept it from damp, one would think the builder might have been glad to let it, thrown as it is upon his hands. I told him so."

"What did he say?"

"He stood out for thirty pounds. But that's more than I--than we can afford."

"And who was going to find the money? You?"

William hesitated; but did not see any way out of the dilemma.

"Well, sir, you know it is a sad pity for the good work to be stopped, through so insignificant a trifle as want of room."

"I think it is," replied Mr. Ashley. "You can hire it to-morrow, and move your forms and tables and books into it as soon as you like. I will find the rent."

The words took William by surprise. "Oh, Mr. Ashley, do you really mean it?"

"Really mean it? It is little enough, compared with what you are doing.

A few years, William, and your name may be great in Helstonleigh. You are working on for it."

William walked with Mr. Ashley as far as his house, and then turned back to his own. He found sorrow there. Not having been home since dinner-time, for he had taken tea at Mr. Ashley's, he was unconscious of some tidings which had been brought by the afternoon's post. Jane sat and grieved while she told him. Her brother Robert was dead. Very rarely indeed did she hear from the New World; Margaret appeared to be too full of cares and domestic bustle to write often. She might not have written now, but to tell of the death of Robert.

"I have lost myself sometimes in a vision of seeing Robert home again,"

said Jane, with a sigh. "And now he is gone!"

"He was not married, was he?" asked William.

"No. I fear he never got on very well. Never to be at his ease."

Gar came in noisily, and interrupted them. The death of an uncle whom he had never seen, and who had lived thousands of miles away, did not appear to Gar to be a matter calling for any especial amount of grief.

Gar was in high spirits on his own account; for Gar was going to Cambridge. Not in all the pomp and pride of an unlimited purse, however, but as a humble sizar.

Gar, not seeing his way very clearly, had been wise enough to pluck up courage and apply for counsel to the head master of the college school.

He had told him that he meant to go to college, and how he meant to go, and he asked Mr. Keating if he could help him to a situation, where he might be useful between terms. "A school where I might become a junior a.s.sistant," suggested Gar. "Or any family who would take me to read with their sons? If I only earned my food, it would be so much the less weight upon my mother," added he, in the candid spirit peculiar to the family.

"Have you forgotten that you ought to work, yourself, out of terms, nearly as hard as in them?" asked Mr. Keating.

"Oh, no, sir, I have not forgotten it. I will take care to accomplish my own work as well. That should not suffer."

Mr. Keating looked at the cheerful, hopeful face, a sure index of the brave hopeful spirit. He had taken unusual interest in the two Halliburtons, so clever and persevering. It had been impossible for him not to do so; for, if Mr. Keating had a weakness, it was for a good cla.s.sical scholar.

"I'll see about it, Gar," said he. "But you are rather young to read with students. And I do not suppose any school would be willing to engage you on account of the interruption that keeping your terms would cause. If nothing better turns up, you can remain in the college school-room here, and undertake one of the junior desks. I should give you nothing for it," added the master, "except your meals. Those you would be welcome to take at my house with my private pupils, sleeping at your own home. And I think that, for you, it would be a better arrangement than any other, for it would leave you plenty of time for your own studies, and I could still superintend them."

Gar thought the arrangement would be first-rate. It would be the very thing. "Not that I ever thought of it," he ingenuously said. "I did not know the college school admitted a.s.sistants."

"Neither does it," replied the master. "You would be ostensibly my private pupil. And if I choose to set a private pupil to keep the desks to their work, that is my affair."

Gar could only reiterate his thanks.

"I am pleased to give you this little encouragement," remarked Mr.

Keating. "When I see boys hopefully plodding on in the teeth of difficulties, of brave heart, of sterling conduct, they deserve all the encouragement that can be given to them. If you and your brothers only go on as you have hitherto gone on, you will stand in after-years as bright examples of what industry and perseverance can achieve."

So that, altogether, Gar was in spirits, and did not by any means put on superfluous mourning for a gentleman who had died in the backwoods of Canada, although he was his mother's brother.

CHAPTER XVI.

AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE.

"Mary," said Mr. Ashley, "I have received an offer of marriage for you."

A somewhat abrupt announcement to make to a young lady, and Mr. Ashley spoke in the gravest tone. They were seated round the breakfast table, Mary by her mother's side, who was pouring out the coffee. Mary looked surprised, rather amused; but that was the only emotion discernible in her countenance.

"It is fine to be you, Miss Mary!" struck in Henry, before anyone could speak. "Pray, sir, who is the venturer?"

"He a.s.sures me that his happiness is bound up in his offer being accepted," resumed Mr. Ashley. "I fancy he felt inclined to a.s.sure me that Mary's was also. Of course, all I can do, is, to lay the proposal before her."

"What _is_ it that you are talking about, Thomas?" interposed Mrs.

Ashley, unable until then to say a word, and speaking with some irritability. "I do not consider Mary old enough to be married. How can you think of saying such things to her?"

"Neither do I, mamma," said Mary, with a laugh. "I like my home too well to leave it."

"And while you are talking sentiment, my curiosity is on the rack,"

cried Henry. "I have inquired the name of the bridegroom, and I should like to be answered."

"The would-be bridegroom," put in Mary.

"Mary, I am ashamed of you!" went on Henry. "I blush for your manners.

Nice credit she does to your bringing up, mamma! When young ladies of condition receive a celestial offer, they behave with due propriety, hang their heads with a blush, and subdue their voice to a whisper. And here's Mary--look at her!--talking quite loudly and making merry over it. Once more, sir, who is the adventurous gentleman? Is it good old General Wells, our gouty neighbour opposite, who is lifted in and out of his chariot for his daily airing? I have told Mary repeatedly that she was setting her cap at him."

"It is not so advantageous a proposal in a financial point of view,"

observed Mr. Ashley, maintaining his impa.s.sibility. "It proceeds from one of my dependents at the manufactory."

Mary had the sugar-basin in her hand at the moment, and a sudden tremor seemed to seize her. She set it down; but so clumsily, that half the lumps fell out. Her face had turned to a glowing crimson. Mr. Ashley noticed it.