Miss Carew meanwhile had stood watching Huldah flitting like a little dark shadow along the road. "What an odd little brown thing she is!" she thought to herself, half-amused, half-sad. "I ain't nobody's relative, I haven't got nobody but Dick! She seemed so cheerful about it, too, it makes one feel that she did not mind the want. I wonder—but I must go and hear more about the strange pair who seem to have dropped out of the clouds to act as good fairies to poor Martha Perry."
When, about an hour later, Miss Carew reached the little cottage in Woodend Lane, she found Huldah washing the floor of the little kitchen, Dick lying in the garden gnawing his bone, and Martha Perry lying in bed with eighteenpence on the table beside her, and a bunch of flowers in a jug. Huldah had taken off Mrs. Perry's apron, for that was far too clean and precious to be worn for such work, whereas her old dress could not possibly be made shabbier.
When she saw Miss Carew standing on the doorstep, she looked up with a bright smile of welcome. "Please to walk in, miss," she said, shyly. She had hoped to have had the kitchen washed and made quite neat before the visitor arrived, but nothing could lessen her pleasure at seeing Miss Rose.
Without her white apron she looked browner than ever, and Miss Rose felt as she looked at her a great desire to dress her in pretty, clean, dainty things, a blue, or pink, or green cotton frock, with big white apron and white collar. She said nothing, though, but, stepping delicately over the clean floor, made her way up the stairs alone to visit the invalid.
Huldah had washed the kitchen and the tiled path to the gate, and shaken the mats, and dusted the chairs and mantelpiece, and was sitting down to rest her hot and weary little body, before Miss Rose came down again. When she heard the footsteps on the stairs she started up at once.
"Huldah, you are a veritable little brownie," said Miss Rose, "not only in appearance, but in everything."
Huldah smiled, but looked puzzled; then she put her hands up to her cheeks. "My hands is brown," she laughed, "but my face feels like fire."
"You should not work so hard while the heat is so great. In spite of your red cheeks, you are a real brownie. Do you know what a brownie is?"
"No, miss," said Huldah, with a shake of her head. "I haven't ever been anything but a gipsy—a basket-seller, I mean."
"Well, basket-sellers can be brownies too, especially when they come in to help and protect poor, helpless old people, and sell their baskets to give the money to those who need it. Have you ever heard of fairies, Huldah?"
Huldah shook her head again, with a puzzled look in her eyes."No, miss."
"Well, fairies and piskies and brownies were supposed to be very little people who lived underground, or in flowers and shells, or in rocks and mines, by day, and only came out at night. Some of them only danced and played and enjoyed themselves, but others, the piskies and brownies, loved to come at night and help the sad and ill and poor, and those who were good and kind. They would come when folks were asleep, and tidy their kitchen for them, or chop their wood, and spin their flax. Sometimes, for the very poor, they would bake a batch of bread or cakes, and have all ready for them; and when the poor people came down in the morning, cold and weak and hungry, wondering how they would manage to get any food to eat, they would find the kitchen clean, wood and coal to make a fire, and food in the larder. Sometimes, too, there would be a piece of money at the bottom of a cup. Can't you imagine how people would bless and love those dear little industrious brownies?"
"Oh yes!" gasped Huldah, "and how I'd love to be able to do things like that!"
"I think you are one, dear, only you don't vanish by day, and you don't work secretly."
Huldah flushed with joy. Never in her sad, hard life had she felt so happy.
"I hope, though, that you are not like the little people in one respect,—they were so very easily offended. Such a little thing would rouse their anger, and when they were angry they did not mind hurting those who had offended them, or even injuring them very greatly."
"Oh!" cried Huldah, looking disappointed.
"Now, little brownie, before I go I want you to trust me, and to be quite frank and open, and not be afraid, for I want to be your friend. I want you to tell me all about yourself and your past life, and where you came from, and why you and Dick are quite alone in the world. Will you? I want to help you, and do what is best for both of you, but until I know all I can do nothing."
"You won't send us back to Uncle Tom, will you miss?" she cried, her face paling, her eyes wide with fear. "I'll tell you everything,— I—I want to, but if you send us back to Uncle Tom, he'll pretty nigh beat us to death, me and Dick, I know he will!" And at the mere thought of it she broke down and sobbed so violently that it was long before Miss Rose could soothe her, or calm the trembling of the half-starved, bruised little body.
She herself was shocked by the terror with which the mere thought of returning to her uncle and aunt filled the child; and her heart ached as she realised what she must have endured to bring her to such a state, for it was plain to see that Huldah was naturally a spirited, brave little creature.
In her own mind, Miss Carew determined then and there that such persons were not fit guardians for any child, and never with her consent should Huldah be sent back to be again at their mercy. Her life would be one of greater suffering even than before. She shuddered at the thought of the blows and abuse and hunger which would be her lot. The hunger for love and kindness, too, which, now she had had a glimpse of both, would be even greater than her hunger for food, and even less likely to be gratified. No—oh no!—Huldah should never face such a fate, as long as she could help her. She would seek the protection of the law first, she decided; but, in the meantime, until the law was necessary, she herself would do her best to make her life happy and useful and good. So much was due to the child.
Everyone whose life was happy, and full of love and peace and comfort, owed some share of her blessings to those who had none,—and surely here was one to whom a large share was owing.
The confession had been made, the story told, and, to her unspeakable joy and relief, Huldah had not been sent to Uncle Tom or to the workhouse. The latter fate she had dreaded even more than the former, for if she had been sent to the workhouse she certainly would have had to part with Dick; whereas, if she had gone back to the caravan, she would have had both him and Charlie, and she would rather endure hunger and beatings than lose Dick.
She had, though, escaped both fates, and life for the time seemed to Huldah almost too beautiful to be anything but a dream, for it had been arranged that both she and Dick were to stay on for the present with Martha Perry in the cottage. Since the night of the attempted robbery Mrs. Perry had been very ailing and nervous. She could not bear Dick to leave the house, when once twilight began to fall, and she would not have stayed there at all at night without him. She had grown to rely on the lanky yellow creature as though he had been a man. No harm, she felt, could come to her or her hens, as long as Dick was about the house or garden.
She needed company and help too, so Huldah was to stay on, to keep the cottage tidy, and run the errands, and be at hand, in case Mrs. Perry was ill again.
A tiny room, which was scarcely more than a cupboard or a 'lean-to' jutting out over the scullery, was transformed into a bedroom for Huldah. A little iron bed was sent down from the vicarage, and sheets and blankets, a chair, and even a little square looking-glass to hang on the wall. Huldah was in a perfect turmoil of glad excitement. She thought her room perfectly beautiful, and from the little window she could look right over the back garden, and away to a great stretch of country beyond.
"I don't know what to do for a chest of drawers for you," said Mrs. Perry, thoughtfully; "you ought to have something to put your clothes in." But Huldah pooh-poohed the idea.
"Oh, I shan't want anything," she said, cheerfully; "you see I haven't got any clothes."
"Ah, but wait," said Mrs. Perry, knowingly, then stopped abruptly, and said no more. Huldah did not understand. "If I can sell some baskets, I'll be able to get an apron or two," she said, gravely. "I'd like fine to have some, but I could keep them on my chair."
Mrs. Perry smiled. "A box would be better. If I could get you a nice big box, that would do for the time, wouldn't it?"
"Oh yes, that would do grand," agreed Huldah, readily, "but don't you worry about it, ma'am. I've got to make my baskets first and sell them, and then I'll have the aprons to make; there won't be any need to worry till I've got them," she added, in her old-fashioned thoughtful way. "Wouldn't it be lovely, ma'am," she added, a moment later, "to have a new frock, a whole real new one?" It took a moment for such a possibility to even enter her head. "A blue one," she added, revelling in it, now it had come, "and a blue hat, too! Oh my!" She looked at Mrs. Perry with clasped hands and eyes full of rapture. "I've never had a new frock or hat, not in all my life. I suppose some people do?"
"Yes, some do," agreed Mrs. Perry, gravely. Then a bright smile passed over her face, and her eyes lighted up almost as eagerly as Huldah's had, a moment before. Miss Carew's pony-cart had come jingling down the lane, and had drawn up before the garden gate.
Huldah sprang forward gladly to open the door, but Mrs. Perry was at it first. "I will go," she said, hastily, "I understand Miss Rose wants me."
Huldah, puzzled and disappointed, did not move another step. Through the open door she saw the dear fat pony, and longed to pat him; she saw Miss Rose smiling and talking, and longed to be there to receive one of her smiles. She saw her too lifting boxes and bundles out of the pony-cart, and piling them in Mrs. Perry's arms.
"Why can't I go out and help?" she asked herself. Everyone was out there, even Dick, and she felt forlorn and left out. Then she saw Miss Carew fasten the pony to the railings by his strap, and, picking up the last of the boxes, follow Mrs. Perry up the garden.
"Good morning, brownie," she said, brightly, and her voice and smile drove the "left out" feeling from Huldah's heart in a moment.
"I am trying to pretend to be a good fairy to-day, but I am too big and clumsy for the part."
Huldah gazed wonderingly, not understanding.
"I wanted you to have some new clothes, brownie, so I waved my wand,—and here they are."
"New—clothes!" gasped Huldah, "for me!" She looked round, and caught sight of Mrs. Perry's face, wreathed in glad smiles. "But I never have any, miss, I was telling Mrs. Perry so as you drove up. Old ones is plenty good enough for me. I should be afraid to wear new ones, for fear of spoiling them."
"Then you must learn to, little brownie. Oh, you have lots to learn yet. There's only one thing I am sorry for, you won't be a brownie any longer, nor yet a fairy dressed in green"; and with the same she whisked the cover off the big box she had been carrying, and there lay neatly folded three little plain print frocks, one lavender, one pink, and one blue.
Huldah cried aloud in sheer amazement. She had never seen anything so pretty in her life. Underneath the frocks were some plain holland aprons. Huldah began to fear it was all a beautiful dream, from which she would awaken presently.
"Open that other box, please, Mrs. Perry," said Miss Rose, briskly; and in that one was a neat sun-hat, with a black ribbon bow on it, and beneath the hat were two little pink cotton petticoats, some calico garments, some stockings and handkerchiefs.
Huldah by that time was in such a state of excitement, she could no longer exclaim, she could hardly breathe, and when the last of the parcels was opened, and disclosed a pair of good boots and a pair of slippers, the tears which had gradually been welling up in her eyes fell over, and with a sob she threw her arms round Mrs. Perry and buried her face on her breast.
"Oh, it's too much, it's too much, I can't take it all! I can't do anything for anybody, and I can't pay for nothing. I haven't got any money, and you mustn't give me such a lot—"
"Huldah, dear," said Miss Rose, softly, laying a gentle hand on the little girl's shaking shoulders, "You have what is better than money. You have a kind, willing heart, and a wise little head, and these are of more value than money, for no money can buy them, but you have given them both to us all this time, asking no return. And you know, dear, brownies are always repaid in this way. You can soon pay for these things, by taking care of Mrs. Perry, doing all you can to help her, and making her happy and comfortable. Then, with your basket-making you will be able to earn enough to clothe yourself in the future, and perhaps help others as well. So don't cry, child, but turn round and smile, and let us see how nice you look in one of your new frocks."
Huldah swung round eagerly, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "Oh yes, yes, so I can. I'll be able to help by-and-by! Oh, Miss Rose, you are so kind to me, I don't hardly know what to say, it seems as if it can't be real, its all too beautiful."
"It isn't too beautiful, brownie. Life can be as beautiful as any dream, even more so. It all depends upon ourselves, and what we make it for each other."
"Oh, I will try to make it beautiful for those who are so good to me," thought Huldah, with almost passionate determination, as she arrayed herself in some of her new clothes; and her heart beat fast and her spirits rose, as she dreamed beautiful dreams of her coming life.
All this had happened the day before, and now Huldah stood in the garden in her blue print frock and holland apron, her hair well brushed and shining, her face full of sober gladness. On the line hung the old brown frock, which had been washed and spread out to dry.
"Life can be as beautiful as any dream, even more beautiful. It all depends upon ourselves, and what we make of it for each other." As she stood looking away from the garden to the quiet sunny stretch of country beyond, the words echoed and re-echoed through her brain, "What we make of it for each other."
"Why, of course," she thought to herself, "the world is just the same, the sun and the breeze, the earth and the sky, just the same as they were when I was living with Uncle Tom and Aunt Emma. 'Tis Miss Rose and Mrs. Perry who have made it all seem so beautiful. Just fancy two people making such a difference. I wish, oh, I wish I could make something seem beautiful to somebody, just as they have for me."
The busy hens had ceased their scratching, to gaze wonderingly at the little blue figure standing so still in the path near them. Dick sat in front of her, and stared up at her with perplexed, uneasy eyes. It was unlike his little mistress to be dressed as she was, and to be so quiet. A little whimper of distress broke from him, he could bear the silence no longer. The sound roused Huldah from her reverie. "Why, Dick, what's the matter?" she cried, throwing her arm round him, and kissing the top of his head. "Why, there's nothing to fret about now, it's all lovely. You and me have got a home, and we've got work to do, and oh, Dick, we've got to do a lot, to make up for all that's been done for us; and we'll do it, won't we, old man! We'll never mind what we do, as long as it's to help somebody."
Dick wriggled and wagged his tail in joyful assent, and barked loudly, to show how much he appreciated the arrangement.
Mrs. Perry came to the door, looking down the garden, to see if they were there. "Huldah," she called, "Huldah! I want you to go into the village to get some tea; we have run out, and we want some sugar, too."
Huldah turned and ran quickly into the house. She was quite ready to go, but in her heart of hearts she always shrank a little from going into the village; the people stared at her so, and asked all manner of questions, which she found it difficult to answer.
A little girl and a dog cannot arrive in a village as though they had dropped out of the sky, without, of course, people wanting to know who they are, and where they come from, and why they came, and with whom they lived before, and with whom they are staying now, and how long they are going to stay.
Mrs. Perry had adopted Huldah as her niece, but a number of people in the village did not really believe she was so, and, having very little to do or think about, they were anxious to find out, and Huldah, when she did go amongst them, found it very trying.
Dick did not find it trying, though, he loved a walk, no matter in what direction it lay, and questions and curiosity did not trouble him at all. He looked wistfully from Huldah to Mrs. Perry, begging with his eyes that he might be allowed to go too.
"Yes, take him," said Mrs. Perry; "it is only three o'clock, and you'll be back by four. I don't mind being alone in broad daylight like this." So Huldah, not a little pleased with her appearance in her pretty blue frock and new hat, started off, basket in hand, and Dick, very proud and pleased, trotted off beside her.
It was not until she drew near the village that she began to wonder what the people would think of the change in her appearance, and a great shyness seized her, and reluctance to go on and meet their looks of surprise, and their open remarks. The feeling grew and grew with every step she took, until she had begun to wonder if she could ever bring herself to face them, when suddenly her mind was lifted off her fears by the extraordinary behaviour of Dick.
Growling savagely, his hair rising stiffly along his back, he was walking more and more slowly, and drawing in closer and closer to Huldah, as his habit was when he felt he must protect her.
"Why, Dick," she cried, puzzled and half-alarmed, "what is it old man? whatever is the matter?" Then, her eyes following the direction of his, she saw, standing by a gate deep-set in the hedge, two young men. To her they seemed harmless enough, just two ordinary-looking strangers, and if it had not been for Dick's behaviour, she would have passed them by without a thought. But evidently they were not harmless in Dick's eyes, for his growls and snarls grew louder and more forbidding the nearer he approached.
The men looked surprised and frightened, and, like most frightened people, they lost their tempers. "Hold in your dog, can't you?" cried one. "You've no right to keep a brute like that."
At the sound of the man's voice Huldah felt a shock of surprise, and Dick's anger increased alarmingly. Where had she heard that voice before? She was sure it sounded familiar.
Without replying, she laid her hand on Dick's collar, and held him close to her.
The other man grew more threatening. "I'll go to the p'lice, and tell 'em you've got a savage dog that ought to be shot, 'cause he isn't safe!" he shouted out, furious with anger and fear.
"He isn't savage, he's good-tempered," Huldah burst forth, at last. "He won't hurt anybody unless they was up to no good, and—and deserved it." She was very near the verge of tears, but she felt she must not break down then.
"Call him good-tempered, do you? We wasn't doing anything but just standing here, and he come along ready to fly at our throats!"
Huldah could not deny the man's statement, nor could she explain. The men certainly seemed to be doing no harm, and Dick's behaviour was very extraordinary. All she could do was to clutch his collar with all her strength, and hurry away as fast as she could go. All thoughts of the village people's looks and remarks were gone from her mind now. She was shaking with nervousness and excitement and fears for Dick, and could think of nothing else.
How she did her errands she never knew, for the scare had driven almost everything else out of her head, her one idea being to hurry home as quickly as possible, and get herself and Dick into safety. The men were strangers to her, and she hoped they would never find out where she and Dick lived.
All the way back until she got past the gateway she still clutched Dick by the collar, much to his surprise and annoyance, for there was much to interest him on a walk like that, and he had quite forgotten his anger and the strangers who had aroused it.
When they had got safely past the dreaded gateway, Huldah's fears calmed down a little.
The men had departed, and all the road ahead of them looked empty.
"You may run now, Dickie," she said, with a sigh of relief, "and don't go getting into any more rows, for I can't bear it."
Dick, with a joyous flick of his tail and a bark of delight, bounded forward delightedly, and Huldah, free at last to attend to other things, looked over her parcels anxiously, to see if she had forgotten anything, for she had really only had half her wits about her when she was in the shop.
"Tea, sugar, box of matches—" A sharp yell made her look up quickly, her heart seeming to stand still with terror. It was Dick's voice, and Dick was in the middle of the road rolling about and crying out sharply, in evident pain.
"Dick! Dick! Come here, what has happened? Oh, Dick!" she called frantically, as she flew to his side; but before she could reach him a big stone came whizzing from the hedge, and another sharp cry of pain showed that poor Dick had been struck again.
"Oh, Dick, Dick dear! what have they done to you?" she cried, dropping on her knees in the dust beside him. The dog tried to struggle to his feet, but could not; every movement caused him to yelp with pain. He looked up at her imploringly, and licked her hand, as she put her arm under him to raise him, and the pain and helplessness in his loving eyes made her tears overflow. What was she to do? He was too big and heavy for her to carry all the way home. She looked about her helplessly, but there was no one in sight, or likely to be at that time of the day; only those two cowards hiding behind the hedge; for it had not taken Huldah long to guess who Dick's assailants were.
From time to time Dick gave a little whimper, and Huldah lifted his head upon her lap; but she was almost afraid to touch him, lest she should cause him more pain. How long, she wondered miserably, would it be before help came? Would those cowards throw more stones? It was horrible to stay there alone with that cowardly heartless pair hidden behind the hedge, and the feeling that at any moment more stones might be hurled at Dick. To protect him she placed herself between him and the hedge.
At last, at long last, when she had begun to wonder anxiously if night would fall and still find her there; and to think how frightened Mrs. Perry must be getting already, the sound of wheels struck on her ears, and it seemed to her the most welcome sound she had ever heard in her life.
The cowards heard it too, apparently, for "Come on, Bill," called a low voice, in the direction of the hedge. Huldah gave a great start of surprise. Where had she heard that voice and those very words before? Why, of course, it was all plain now. That first night at the cottage, the barn, the fowl-robbers!—it all came back to her with a rush. No wonder Dick had been angry when he saw them again,— and she, in her stupidity, had blamed him for showing temper. Dear clever, wise, brave Dick! He, too, recognised the voice now, and growled again with all his former spirit. Huldah's indignation rose beyond control. "Oh, you cowards!" she called out in a shrill angry voice, "I know you now. You came robbing a hen-roost, and the dog drove you off. You ran away from him, but he bit your legs. No wonder he growled when he saw you again. He knew what you were. I wish now I hadn't held him in. I wish I'd let him go at you, then p'raps it would have been you lying in the road howling, not him. Oh, you thieves and cowards!"
Her voice rang out clear and loud, but how much the men heard no one will ever know. Probably they did not stay to hear much, for the last thing they wanted was to meet people, or to run any risk of being seen.
The wheels drew nearer, then the vicarage pony-carriage came round the bend. For one moment Miss Carew stared bewildered at the group in the middle of the road, the little blue-clad girl, the yellow dog, and the basket of groceries all on the ground in the dust together; then she saw that something was wrong, and sprang out quickly to their assistance.
"Why, brownie! What has happened?" she cried, alarmed. "Dick, oh, poor old doggie, whatever have you been doing?"
Well she might ask, for poor Dick was covered with dust. He had a lump on his head, and a cut on his shoulder, and he could not help whining, as he made another effort to rise to greet her.
Then, amidst sobs and tears Huldah told her story, and Dick meanwhile looked up at her, a little protecting whimper escaping him from time to time. Now that the strain was over, and relief had come, Huldah broke down completely for a time. She was trembling in every limb, and was white to the lips. Miss Rose saw that the best thing for them both was to get them home as quickly as possible.
Half lifting Huldah, she helped her into the carriage. Then she put Dick in across her lap, and her basket at her feet, and finally got in herself.
"Now then," she said, cheeringly, "we shall soon be home, and Dick shall have his bruises bathed and his poor leg bound up. Don't cry any more, brownie, or you will frighten Mrs. Perry, and we mustn't do that on any account, must we? Dick is going to be very brave—he always is—and you are going to be as plucky as Dick. See there, he is better already," as the invalid gave a bark of excitement, at the sight of some sparrows in the road.
Huldah smiled, then laughed. If Dick was all right, nothing else seemed to matter. Dick turned his head and smiled up at her, to assure her he was better; and so, on the whole, it was quite a cheerful little party which drew up a few moments later before Mrs. Perry's gate.
Though she made light of it to Mrs. Perry, the fright she had received kept Huldah in a very nervous state for many a day to come. She lived always in a constant dread of some harm coming to poor Dick, and she was never really easy if he was out of her sight. By day, her eyes were here, there, and everywhere, fearful that somewhere those two dreaded figures might be lurking about, waiting to attack or steal her Dick; and at night she lay awake hour after hour, thinking she heard sounds in the house or the garden. Half-a-dozen times she would get out of her bed, shaking with nervousness, yet unable to lie still, and peer out, to see if they really were getting over the garden wall or not, and always she longed for the night to be over. She felt safer when she was up and about, with Dick under her eye.
Miss Carew grew quite troubled about her—about them both, in fact, for Huldah's nervousness, though she tried to keep it to herself, could scarcely be concealed from Mrs. Perry.
Something must be done to distract the child's mind, she felt,—but what? And then, as though to solve the difficulty for her, came an order for half a dozen of Huldah's pretty baskets.
No other cure she could have found would have been half so good. Huldah's spirits went up to a pitch of delight such as she had never known before. She was full of gratitude and of eagerness to begin, and if Miss Rose had not been able to drive her in to Belmouth that very day to buy the raffia, there was, as Miss Rose said, no knowing what might have happened.
Huldah liked the work, and she had done so little lately that the thought of going back to it was a pleasure in itself, but best of all was the thought of what she would do with the money when she got it. That thought kept her in one thrill of joy.
She was to have eighteenpence each for the baskets. Nine whole shillings! It seemed to Huldah a perfect fortune, and she would spend the whole of it on Mrs. Perry. She would get her in a store of coal, in readiness for the winter; then they would be able to have good fires, and not have to be counting the cost all the time.
That was the first decision. After a time, though, that seemed rather an uninteresting purchase. All her money would be gone at once, and almost before she had realised that she had got it. She next decided to get a large piece of bacon, two sacks of coal, and a sack of corn for the fowls; but this plan was changed again for others. Every day Huldah thought out some new and delightful purchases, and what she would have bought finally nobody knows, for Miss Rose and Mrs. Perry put an end to all her schemes, by insisting that the money was to be spent on herself. She was to buy a new winter coat for herself, they decided, and Huldah had to give in. She was bitterly disappointed at first; it had never entered her head to spend her money on anyone but Mrs. Perry, it was for her only that she had wanted it.
Autumn was well advanced now, the mornings and nights were cold, and the days not really hot, and Huldah soon began to realise that she did need a warm garment of some sort, for she had only her thin print frocks, and a little shoulder shawl that Mrs. Perry had given her.
So, as soon as she had got her nine shillings in her pocket, Miss Rose came with the pony-cart and drove her in to Belmouth to hunt through the shops in search of a coat or a cloak which would not cost more than nine shillings, and at the same time be neat and warm, and—at least, so Huldah hoped,—pretty.
Such a day as that was to Huldah! Such a day as had never come into her life before. First of all there was the drive, four whole miles with Miss Rose in her dear little pony-carriage, and actually wearing one of Miss Rose's old golf cloaks wrapped snugly round her. The sun shone and the birds sang, and the air was exhilarating with the first touch of frost; the trees glowed warmly in their autumn dress, and the hedges too.
Huldah was speechless with excitement, when, after leaving Rob, the pony, at a livery-stable, she followed Miss Carew into the big draper's shop where the purchase was to be made. She was half frightened too, the place was so large, and there were so many people there, who seemed to have nothing to do but stare about them. It was quite an ordeal to walk behind the shop-walker between the long lines of counters with so many people looking over them at her. She kept very close indeed to Miss Rose, and tried to believe that it was at Miss Rose they were staring, and not at herself.
Then at last they came to the jacket department, and before she knew what she was doing a very tall young woman was standing beside her with a bright scarlet coat in her hands, and actually holding it out for Huldah to try on.
"Oh, that will not do," interposed Miss Rose, sharply. She was sorry that Huldah should have seen it, it was so attractive, though unsuitable, and would probably make all the others seem dull and ugly. But Huldah knew too that it was quite unsuitable for her purpose. What she wanted was a serviceable garment for Sundays and week-days, wet weather and fine; she would have loved though to have it, and for years after, one of her ambitions was to have a bright red coat in the winter.
Miss Rose strolled away with the girl, after that, to say a word to her in private, and to try to help her pick out something suitable; and very soon they came back again with black coats, blue coats, dark green and grey coats, and one after the other Huldah tried them on, and one after the other they were thrown aside as useless. The shoulders came to her elbows nearly, and the cuffs beyond her finger-tips, while the collars refused to come anywhere near her neck! It was most disappointing.
"She is very narrow, and thin for her height," remarked the girl, apologetically, as one after the other the coats hung off Huldah's shoulders like loose sacks. "I wonder if you wouldn't find a cloak more satisfactory for her. Fit does not matter so much with a cloak. Now this one is a very good one; it cost fifteen shillings at first, but it is reduced very much, because it is a little out of fashion, and slightly shop-worn," and she held up a warm brown cloak with big bone buttons, and, oh! joy of joys in Huldah's eyes, a hood lined with blue! "Hoods aren't being worn now," she went on; but Huldah heard no more.
"Not worn! Out of fashion!" All her life Huldah had longed for a cloak with a hood! In a rapture she felt the cloak being placed on her shoulders, and saw the girl button the big horn buttons, and in a tumult of shy delight she looked over herself, and then up at Miss Carew.
"That fits her very well," said the girl, in a tone of relief.
Miss Rose read Huldah's eager face, and almost nervously enquired the price. It would be such a blow if it should be beyond them.
"It is reduced to eight shillings, madam," said the girl, who was almost as anxious to sell as they were to buy. "It is good cloth, a real bargain."
"Then we must have it, mustn't we, brownie?" cried Miss Rose, promptly. "It may not be as warm as a coat, but it certainly fits her and suits her. Why, we have turned you into a brownie again, Huldah! Are you pleased with your purchase?"
"Oh yes, miss! I think it is lovely, I like it better than any!" gasped Huldah, excitedly. She could scarcely believe yet that she was not in a dream, or that it could really be she, Huldah Bate, to whom all this was happening.
The young attendant stooped to unbutton the cloak, to take it away and wrap it in a parcel, but Miss Carew stopped her. "I think she may as well wear it home," she said. "It is cold, and it will be the easiest way of carrying it."
"Yes, madam. I will give you the bill."
When the stranger's back was turned, Huldah found her tongue. "Oh, Miss Rose, isn't it lovely! It's so warm, I can feel it already, and—and oh, I can't believe it is mine!"
"I am glad you like it, dear. Now get out your purse, and pay the bill."
That was indeed a proud moment! From the depth of her pocket, and from beneath the wonderful cloak, Huldah produced a small, rather shabby purse, an old one of Miss Carew's, and from its pockets she produced all her worldly wealth. Her fingers trembled so, she could scarcely separate the coins, but at last it was all managed; and, still in a maze of delight, she found herself walking out of the shop behind Miss Carew, clutching her thin little purse, in which reposed one solitary shilling, and proudly wearing her own purchase.
To have walked out in it between that double fire of staring eyes, would have been an ordeal she could scarcely have endured, if it had not been that her thoughts were more occupied with her shilling than with herself, for with it she was going to buy something to take home to Mrs. Perry, and what that something was to be was a matter for grave consideration.
However, with Miss Rose's help, the money was at last laid out on some tea and some biscuits, and, greatest treat of all, a smoked haddock, to make a feast for the tea which was to crown the end of that glorious afternoon.
The tea and the fish and some of the biscuits were for Mrs. Perry, and some of the biscuits were for Dick, as his share of the rejoicing, but for Miss Rose Huldah had nothing, and that was the one cloud on that happy, wonderful day. It was rather a big cloud, too, for she did long to do something for her, to show how grateful she was, and the thought of it kept her very quiet and grave for a part of the drive home.
"Are you tired, brownie?" asked Miss Rose, presently, noticing her silence.
Huldah looked up with grateful, happy eyes. "Oh no, miss. I am too happy to be tired! and it's lovely to feel the warmth of my cloak coming in to my shoulders. I think it is so beautiful. Do you like it, miss?"
"Very much indeed, and I like to have our brownie in brown again; it seems just right!"
Huldah laughed happily. "I wish"—she began, then stopped, as a sudden idea flashed on her mind. Why, of course, she could be a real brownie, and by getting up very early she could, without anyone's knowing anything about it, make one of her prettiest and nicest baskets for Miss Rose! Her spirits went up, and up with pleasure at the thought all her gravity left her, and when at last they drew up before the cottage in Woodend Lane, her face was one big radiant smile. Mrs. Perry was at the door as soon as they had reached the gate.
"Oh my!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands with pleasure and surprise at the sight of Huldah walking up the path actually wearing her new purchase. "Oh my, how nice we do look! Now, I do call that just perfect!"
The child's face was glowing with health and happiness, her eyes were beaming with affection, and eager for sympathy. Could she possibly be the little ill-used, runaway waif who had come to her door starving, only so short a time ago? Mrs. Perry asked herself the question as she looked at her, and in her heart thanked God for sending her this blessing, this chance to help another; and for staying her tongue when she had felt tempted to bid her begone.
Across her mind too flashed the thought of what might have happened to Huldah, if she had turned her away that night. Would it have been to the workhouse, or the jail she would have drifted,—this bonnie, healthy, smiling child? But her mind was drawn back to healthier thoughts by Huldah's little brown work-worn hands.
"Don't you like it, ma'am?" she was asking, troubled by the gravity on Mrs. Perry's face.
"Like it!" she cried, coming back to the present with glad relief. "I should think I did, and you in it, too, dear!" and for the first time in her life she stooped and kissed the little maiden, and Huldah returned the kiss with all the warmth of her affectionate heart welling up to her lips.
It was the first time anyone had kissed her since her mother died, and the first time that she had kissed anyone but Dick and Charlie.
Autumn had come now; late autumn with winter not so very far off, and the days were growing very short and dark; so short and dark that there was no chance of working early in the morning before she went downstairs, nor after she went to bed at night, except by candlelight, and she could not, of course, burn candles. So Mrs. Perry had to be taken into the secret, and Huldah worked in comfort by the fire in the afternoons, after she had done her housework.
And how she did love those cosy afternoons, and how the memory of them lived with her all her life after! The wind and rain storming outside, the snug little kitchen, where they sat so cosy and warm, Dick lying contentedly on his rug, Mrs. Perry sitting in her armchair by the fire, reading aloud from one of her few but precious books. They were old, those stories, but to Huldah they were more beautiful than any she ever came across later on.
Then came the glad day when the basket was completed. Huldah had taken more pains with it than with any she had ever made, and her care was rewarded, for a prettier, daintier basket no one could wish to possess. As soon as it was finished there arose the great question of how, and when, and where the gift should be made.
"I want it to seem as if it comes from a brownie," Huldah insisted, eagerly. "I couldn't make it at night, as the brownies would have done, but couldn't I leave it, as they left their gifts, just where it is sure to be found? It would be much nicer, wouldn't it? Miss Rose would laugh, and be so pleased. I am sure she would like to have it that way."
At last, after a great deal of thought, and a great many plans had been made and set aside as not quite suitable, it was decided that Huldah should get up early in the morning and walk to the vicarage, then creeping softly into the stable, she would tie the parcel on to Rob's back, or to his manger, where he could not reach it. Miss Carew always went out early, to feed her hens, and to take Rob some bread and sugar, so she would be sure to see it.
Another plan was for Huldah to creep into Miss Rose's sitting-room when the maid's back was turned, and leave the parcel on the table; but they did not like this plan very well, for one thing, Huldah did not like creeping stealthily in and out of the house, and for another, Miss Rose might not find the basket for hours. She was always so busy about the garden and Rob and the hen-houses that she might not go to her room till quite late in the day.
No; Rob, they decided, must be the medium, and Huldah thrilled with excitement.
When she went to bed that night, she was so full of fears that she would not wake in good time in the morning that she tried to keep awake all night. But, after a while the time seemed so long, the night so endless, and the morning so far off, she longed to be able to go to sleep, to bring it nearer more quickly, and while she was wondering if the kitchen clock had really struck ten, or was it really six, and time to get up, she fell asleep, and the next thing she was conscious of was Mrs. Perry calling her, and the old clock in the kitchen striking six as hard as it could strike.
"You dress and get ready, and I will light the fire," she said; and when Huldah presently went downstairs, the kitchen was bright with lamp and firelight, the kettle was singing gaily, and Mrs. Perry was already warming the tea-pot.
By the time they had had their tea and Huldah was ready to start, it was already growing light out of doors. The night had been cold, and there was a thin layer of ice on the puddles in the road, and a nipping little wind made Huldah glad to wrap her old shawl snugly about her,—the shawl which Mrs. Perry had lent her, to save the new cloak. Dick bounded along delightedly; it was not often now that he had a walk at that hour of the morning, and he rejoiced in every inch of it; though he was rather hurt when, on reaching the vicarage gate, Huldah took a piece of string from her pocket and fastened it to his collar. It was only his perfect trust in his mistress that enabled him to bear such an indignity, and he followed her full of wonder as to what was to happen next.
Keeping on the grass by the side of the drive, they made their way noiselessly round to the courtyard and stables. No one was about out of doors, Huldah rejoiced to see, but guessed that Dinah was already up and in the kitchen, for smoke was coming out of a chimney.
With Dick keeping obediently close to her side, she timidly opened the stable door and crept swiftly in. Rob knew her well enough by this time, and only looked mildly surprised at her appearance. He had a horse-cloth over him, fastened round him by a girth, and while he scrunched up the sugar Huldah had brought him she secured her basket on his back by the girth, as fast as her nervous fingers could manage it. "Miss Rose can't help seeing it there," she thought, delightedly, "and Rob can't harm it before she comes." She stood for a second gazing in sheer joy at her handiwork, the dainty basket and the big white label tied to it, with "From a grateful Brownie," written in large letters on it. Then, fearful of being discovered, she hurried quickly out, fastened the door behind her, and with Dick still close at her heels raced away as quietly as ever she could, and never paused until she had reached the top of Woodend Lane once more.
Stephen Lea, the groom, had been ill, and was late that morning, and Miss Rose reached the stable first. Almost at once her eye was caught by something unusual on the pony's back, but in the dim light of the stable she could not make out what it was.
"Why, Rob," she exclaimed, laughing, "what have you been doing? Where have you been to pick up a load?" Then she searched his side, and made out what the load really was. "Oh, that dear child!" she cried, as she read the inscription written in a big round hand on a sheet of paper, and her eyes grew misty, "From a grateful Brownie." "Now when could she have brought that, and tied it there, I wonder. Rob, you bad boy, why don't you tell me all about it? You know you have been gobbling down sugar this morning, greedy little creature that you are; but I should never have known it from you, if I hadn't seen the crumbs. You are the best secret-keeper I know, but I do wish you could tell me about this, Rob dear."
She looked at the pretty basket with eyes full of tenderness and admiration. "Dear, kind little brownie!" she whispered softly.
Later that day, Rob, still looking as though he did not know what a secret or a brownie was, trotted down Woodend Lane, and drew up as a matter of course before the cottage gate. Indeed, his feelings would have been quite hurt if he had been told that he must not stop there, but must go further down the lane.
Huldah heard his steps, and saw him arrive, watched Miss Rose get down from the carriage and fasten Rob to the railings,—then, in a sudden access of shyness, flew out of the back door and down to the very bottom of the garden.
There Miss Rose found her, a few minutes later. "Huldah," she said, smiling, her pretty blue eyes full of pleasure, and gratitude, and affection, "I found on Rob's back this morning, left there by the brownies, a basket so pretty and so dainty that everyone who has seen it wants one like it. It was a brownie's basket, and as you are the only one of them that I know who can do work like it, I have come to bring you the order."
"Oh!" gasped Huldah, forgetting her shyness in her delight.
"I am going to call them 'Brownie baskets,' to distinguish them from any others; but the reason shall be our secret, shall it not? Thank you very, very much little brownie, for your sweet gift," and she stooped down and kissed Huldah on the forehead.
The child's eyes filled with tears, glad, grateful tears. "Oh, Miss Rose," she exclaimed, "I am so happy, I don't know what to do; it is all too lovely. I am always afraid I shall wake up and find it a dream."
"It is no dream, brownie; so long as you go on trying to make others happy you will find your own happiness is quite real. Happiness lies in helping others and bringing sunshine into their lives. You will have some disappointments. It will seem as though some people do not want to be made happy, others would not admit it if they were. Such people need a lot of patience shown them, but you must go on trying. There is always something to be done for someone. You must come indoors, though, or you will be taking cold, and we cannot afford to have that happen."
Huldah followed Miss Rose along the path, hardly conscious that her feet touched the earth. Her heart was throbbing with joy, her eyes were dancing. Dick followed his mistress, his tail wagging contentedly, he knew by instinct why she was happy, and his senses told him that she had been very happy ever since they started for that beautiful walk that morning.
"I am going to begin the work to-morrow morning," Huldah said, eagerly, to Mrs. Perry that evening, as they sat over their supper before the fire. "I expect Miss Rose would like to have the baskets soon, and they will take a little while to make."
Alas, though, when morning came, Huldah's eagerness received a sharp check. She had only the least little bit of raffia left, and to get more she would have to go into Belmouth.
"What a pity!" she cried, disappointedly; "it will take hours to walk there and back, and I meant to have done such a lot to-day!" She could have wept with vexation. Belmouth was four miles off, and one of the hilliest four miles imaginable. But it was not this that daunted her, it was the length of time that she would be kept from her work. However, there was no good done by worrying over it, or by delaying, so, as soon as she had done her housework, and dinner was over and the dishes put away, she put on her new brown cloak, and with Dick for company she started.
They stepped out briskly, for the days were short now, and Mrs. Perry grew anxious if they were long away, and nervous if she were left alone when the light began to fade. They stepped along so briskly that by half-past two they were in the town, and making their way to the shop where Miss Rose had bought the raffia before. The purchase took a little time, for the shopman had not enough out, and had to send to the stock-room to get some. But, now that she was there, Huldah did not mind that. She loved watching the people coming in and making their purchases; it was all so lively and new and interesting. The shopkeeper, who had seen her come there with Miss Carew, and had heard about her basket-making, was nice and friendly too. He seemed to take quite an interest in her work, and promised to get her some orders if he could, so that altogether Huldah came out of that shop feeling extremely happy, and not in the least sorry that she had had to come.
"I feel almost too happy," she was saying to herself, as she stepped out into the street, where the setting sun was flooding the place with radiance, a dazzling, rosy radiance that shone right in Huldah's eyes, and blinded her to all about her.
"It is all so lovely," she added, "it seems as if it can't be true, as if I can't be really me"—a sudden sharp, excited barking on the part of Dick made her turn quickly. She turned her back to the sun, and the dazzle went out of her eyes, and with it the sunshine from her life,—or so it seemed to her,—for there, drawn up by the opposite pavement was her uncle's van, and old Charlie! and, as Huldah knew, the owners themselves would not be far off!
Dick had recognised Charlie—that was the meaning of his excitement, and therein lay the greatest danger, for he was barking and leaping about the old horse in such delight that everyone's attention was attracted, and it was only a question as to how soon he would attract Uncle Tom's attention too. Huldah's own heart yearned to go over and speak to the dear old horse, but her fears were stronger. She felt half paralysed with terror, and for a moment her wits so forsook her that she did not know what to do. Then inspiration came to her, and she turned and hurried away as fast as her feet could carry her. She did not run, she was trembling too much for that, she dared not whistle for Dick, for that would have called attention to them both. She could only walk away, and trust to his following her; but even as she went she heard a dreaded voice shout out excitedly, "Why there's our Dick! Dick, Dick, come here"—but at the sound of it Dick felt the old fear in his heart leap to life, and with his old instinct to fly from his master, he dashed along the street as swiftly as his long legs could carry him, and was very quickly out of sight. So swiftly did he race that he shot past Huldah without recognising her, and her heart beat faster with thankfulness, for the further away he got the better, and it was better for both of them that they should not be seen together.
How she got over those four long miles home Huldah never knew. Her head swam, her legs trembled, indeed, her whole body shook with nervous dread, so that, in spite of her anxiety to get home quickly, she had to stand still many times, to quiet the beating of her heart, and get breath to go on again.
Half a mile out of the town she found Dick, running wildly backwards and forwards looking for her, and troubled and ashamed at having lost her. She wished, though, that he had gone all the way home, for if they were followed and seen together she would be recognised instantly, and she would have no power of escape such as Dick had had.
She took her hat off, and drew her hood over her head, but with Dick beside her nothing would save her, she knew. So slowly had she come that darkness was already beginning to fall. Seeing this, she tried to hurry on more quickly, and once within sight of their own lane relief gave her strength to run. In the lane the twilight was deeper, and already Mrs. Perry, growing nervous, had lighted the lamp in the kitchen. The warm glow streamed out on poor frightened Huldah, and welcomed her. At the sound of her footsteps the house door flew open, and Mrs. Perry came out on the step to meet her; but instead of her usual smile and greeting, Huldah fell exhausted into her arms and burst into a passion of bitter sobs.
"I tell you that there's my dog! He was stolen from me, and I'm going to 'ave the law of whoever's got 'im."
Tom Smith went blustering back into the public-house, almost speechless with anger. To have been so near Dick and then to have missed him, was almost more than he could bear. If he had known he had missed Huldah too, he would have been even more angry.
"You can't have the law of people for taking in a stray," remarked one man, quietly. They none of them liked Tom Smith, and most of them wished he would go on his way and leave them to their quiet gossip.
"Perhaps he ran away," suggested another, drily.
Tom Smith glowered at him sullenly. "What should he run away for?" he asked, sharply.
"Well, that's more'n I can say," answered the man, calmly. "It seems to be his way, by the look of him just now. Dogs do it sometimes, when they think they'd like a change."
"I know he didn't run away; he was stolen, and I'd give five shillings to know who'd got him, and where he lives."
He did not mean what he said, and he never intended to part with five shillings, but he did want to find Dick, and he meant to do it, too. For once he was taken at his word.
"Hand over your five bob. I can tell you where the dog lives." The voice came from over by the window, and all eyes were turned in that direction. A young man, a stranger to all there, was standing leaning eagerly towards Tom Smith, his hand held out. He had been sitting silent until this moment, but listening attentively to all that was being said.
Tom Smith turned towards him, looking very foolish; and, as usual, when he felt small he began to bluster. "Likely tale I'm going to hand over five shillings now! How do I know you knows anything about the dog; what one I means, or where he lives, or anything at all about him? Besides, I don't give the five bob unless I actually gets hold of the dog."
"I tell you I do know him; he's a yaller dog, a long-legged thing with a short tail, and he goes about with a girl, and he's called Dick. I shouldn't have said I know'd him if I didn't."
"A girl!" Tom Smith's cruel eyes lightened with eagerness."Have you seen a girl with him? a kid about twelve-year old?When? Now? Are you sure? Why, 'twas she that stole him!"
"What should a child of that age want to steal a dog for?" asked one of the other men.
"Better ask her, if you want to know!" retorted the other, rudely. "I'll give 'ee another shilling if you can help me lay my hands on the both of them."
"Right you are," agreed Bob, promptly, and without a single qualm of conscience. "We'd better start; 'tis about four miles from here they live, and it'll be dark soon."
"Ugh!" Tom Smith looked vexed; he was a lazy man, and he did not relish the prospect of a four miles' tramp. "I've got to wait for my old woman to come back," he muttered.
Emma Smith was going round the town with a big basket of tins and brushes and things, trying to sell some, while he hung about the public-house, enjoying himself doing nothing. Her round was a long one, and few people seemed tempted to buy of such a slovenly, disagreeable-looking woman, one who grew rude too, if people did not want any of her goods.
So it was that Huldah had got safely home without being overtaken, and once within that cosy kitchen felt herself safe from all danger. She little dreamed that at that moment the three persons she feared most in the world were starting out from Belmouth in search of her. Poor Huldah!
It was six o'clock and quite dark by the time the trio, and Charlie and the van, reached Wood End; and many a time before they got there Bob Thorp would have thrown up the job, if he had not wanted the money so badly. For the whole of the four miles Tom Smith grumbled, bullied his wife, beat Charlie, and snapped and snarled at everyone and everything.
"I don't wonder at anybody's running away from you," remarked Bob at last, losing all patience. "If I was your wife I'd do the same."
Whereupon Tom snarled again with rage, "She'd better let me catch her trying it on, that's all," he said, threateningly, and glared at his wife, as though she had threatened to do so.
A little way beyond the village they drew up, and without troubling to ask anyone's leave Tom drove the van into a field,—where they had no possible right to be, and poor tired Charlie and his tired mistress were left to themselves for, at any rate, a few minutes' peace.
The two men walked on again in silence until they reached the top of Woodend Lane, There Bob Thorp drew up, and showed a decided disinclination to go any further.
"'Tis down there they live, the first cottage you come to; you can't mistake it. There's only an old woman, I b'lieve, besides the girl and the dog. I'd better keep away, 'cause they knows me, leastways the girl does, and—and the dog. If you'll hand over that six bob now, I'll be getting home. I've got a good step to go yet."
Tom Smith agreed almost pleasantly. "Right you are," he said, diving his hand into an inside pocket, "and, thank 'ee, I'll manage the rest, and I'd better manage it alone. I don't want to draw my friends into any trouble over it,—leastways not those that have done me a good turn."
He fumbled for some time over the counting out of the money, but when at last he had put it into Bob's hand, the latter turned abruptly away, and with only a brief 'good-night' plunged hurriedly down the dark lane.
"Good-night," said Bob, "and thank 'ee. Three florins isn't it?" But Tom Smith was out of sight, and Bob was glad to hurry away too, as fast as his legs could take him. He did not feel altogether pleased, though he did try to cheer himself by chinking his money in his pocket, and planning how he would spend it. All the way he went he seemed to see again Huldah's pained, sorrowful face, as she knelt in the road beside her dog, and tried to shelter him with her own body. How she must love the ugly yellow creature, and how he loved her! and how they would feel it, if they were parted. What a life they'd lead, if they had to go back to the van and that ill-tempered, grumbling pair!
"I couldn't wish anybody any worse harm than to have to live with that fellow," he muttered to himself. "'Tis a poor look-out for 'em, poor toads!"
The thought of Huldah, and the desire not to be mixed up in the affair, sent him home and to bed, to be out of the way. So he went to sleep, and tried to forget what he had done, and his three florins remained untouched in his pocket until morning.
In the meantime Tom Smith had made his way stealthily down the lane until he reached the little cottage. At the gate he stopped, and peering about him, listened for a time, while he tried to plan what his first move should be. Should he be civil and friendly, or should he just go in and frighten them all? As he stood there debating he looked like some mean beast of prey, waiting to spring on his victim. A cheerful light shone out of one of the little windows, and in the stillness of the night the sound of voices reached him. One he recognised at once as Huldah's. A savoury smell of cooking was wafted out to him, and roused him to greater anger.
"That little hussy is a-selling of her baskets, I'll be bound, and she and the old woman live on the fat of the land with the money that they bring. My baskets, I calls 'em. It's sheer thieving! A fine old yarn she'll have told, too, and a nice character she'll have give'd me, ugh, the little—"
A ripple of laughter sounded through the silence. To him it seemed as though Huldah were mocking him. Hesitating no longer, he strode up the path and knocked heavily on the door. Instantly the voices and the laughter ceased. There was a spring at the door and a growl. Dick had scented the enemy! Then after a moment's pause a voice asked timidly, "Who is there?"
Tom Smith heard the alarm in the voice, and rejoiced. It gave him the greatest pleasure always to know that he inspired fear in anyone.
"Open the door. It's me, Tom Smith, and I've come after that dog of mine that you've stole!"
No answer came, nor was the door opened.
"Open the door, I say, or I'll fetch the police for you! pack of thieves that you are!"
The threat of the police would have made Huldah smile, if she had not been in such a state of terror for herself, and even more so for Dick. She knew that her "uncle" would not go within a mile of a policeman if he could help it. Indeed, she longed and prayed for a policeman to come along then, that she might appeal to him for protection.
Unfortunately for them, though, not even a bolt stood between them and their enemy, and before Huldah could step forward to shoot it, or turn the key, the latch was raised, and Tom Smith was in the kitchen. With one well-aimed kick he sent Dick into the furthest corner, and with equally sure aim he seized Huldah by the wrist. "Now, you come along of me, and no nonsense, do you hear? A fine dance you've led me and your poor aunt! You deserves a good hiding, both of 'ee, and I ain't sure but what you'll get it yet."
"Let her alone," gasped Mrs. Perry, "let her go—she isn't yours. You've no—right—to her." Her face was grey white, her heart seemed to have stopped beating, and she could hardly speak.
Tom Smith took no notice of her whatever, he was not going to waste time in arguing—bullying was more in his line. "Now then, come along. If you makes any noise, I'll turn the p'lice on the old lady there, for harbouring thieves and receiving stolen property. Stop it now!" as Huldah wrenched herself away. "P'raps that'll teach you," and he caught her a heavy blow on the ear.
Mrs. Perry screamed. "Don't hurt her—oh, don't do them any harm!" she pleaded. "Promise not—to beat them." It seemed to her impossible to resist him, they were helpless there, those two alone. Huldah and Dick must go.
Huldah's heart sank with overwhelming sorrow. Was she really to be given up? was she to leave her new home, her new happiness, her work, Mrs. Perry, Miss Rose,—all to go back to the old torture? Oh no, it could not be. She could never bear it! Mrs. Perry spoke as if she would have to; but what would she herself do there alone? She would be almost frightened to death.
Poor Huldah grew frantic. "I am not going. I can't go, and MissRose said you can't make me. I am not yours. Oh, Miss Rose, MissRose do come and save us!"
With a little whimper of pain Dick crawled out of his corner and came towards her. He seemed to realise that his little mistress was in danger, and he meant to stand by her.
"Shut up your noise!" shouted her "uncle," and dealt her another sharp blow on the side of the head.
Mrs. Perry screamed, and fell fainting into the chair, and with the same Tom Smith picked up Huldah in his arms and made for the door.
The sound of footsteps and bitter cries died away in the lane, and a deep oppressive silence followed. The kettle sang and boiled and bubbled over, the supper burnt in the pan, the fire died down, and still that senseless form lay huddled up in her chair, her white face turned upwards to the ceiling, as though beseeching help.
Minutes passed before any sign of life came back to her, and with a shuddering sigh she opened her eyes again. At first she was dazed, and her mind a blank, then the open door, the empty room, the stillness, brought all back to her in a sudden overwhelming rush of sorrow.
For a few moments she sat, weak, white, and trembling, trying to think; then rising stumblingly to her feet she picked up her shawl, and wrapping it over her head and shoulders, she groped her way out of the house, down the garden, and out into the darkness of the night.
Stumbling, tottering, having to pause every few minutes, to rest her shaking limbs and gasp for breath, she made her way up the lane. She must find Miss Rose. Miss Rose must know, Miss Rose would help them! Oh itmustcome right! She could not lose her child and Dick. She could not live without them now!
Tears welled up, and poured down her ashy face, as she thought of those two, and what they might be enduring now.
"Dear Father, protect them!" she prayed. "Dear Jesus, take care of them!" and all the way she went her pleadings beat at Heaven's gate for the two poor waifs she so loved. "Dear Jesus, protect them, and bring them back to me. I love them so, and they are all I have."
Her heart laboured so heavily she could scarcely breathe, her head throbbed distractingly, her limbs shook so much under her that she could scarcely drag herself along. Every now and then she fancied she heard a scream or Huldah's sobs; then again she thought she heard Dick's bark, and each time she stopped and listened, and gazed into the darkness, but presently the loneliness and darkness so oppressed her that she could not bring herself to stop again. All she could do was to stumble onward until the vicarage was reached, and arrived there she sank down on the doorstep exhausted. The fright and the walk, so long for her, had nearly killed her.
Dinah came quickly to the door, in response to the frightened frantic knock, and as she opened it Martha Perry fell in at her feet, faint and helpless.
"My—Huldah"—she panted, "he's found her; he's taken her—away—and Dick too! Help me—to—" then, as they raised her and carried her into the kitchen, she lost consciousness entirely.
When she opened her eyes again Miss Rose was standing beside her. "Huldah! where's my Huldah?" she cried, her poor eyes filling with tears. "What—can we do?"
Miss Rose's face was very white, but her eyes were brave and smiling. "It's all right, Martha, dear. She will be back with you to-morrow, I hope. We have sent to the police; they are to take the matter up, and see it through, and we have telegraphed to Belmouth, and Woodleigh, and Crinnock, to tell the police there to look out for the man, and stop him."
Mrs. Perry moaned with disappointment, she could not help it, when she thought of poor Huldah, every moment going further and further from them all. Longing, hoping, expecting every moment that someone would overtake them and save her, straining her ears to hear help coming,—and then, at last, in utter hopeless despair realising that she was left to herself, helpless, broken-hearted! She would not know that it was only for one night, and that help was coming in the morning.
Martha tried to smile back at Miss Rose, and to seem pleased, but her misery was too great. Then an idea came to her, which brought her swiftly to her feet, with new hope in her heart. Perhaps, oh, perhaps, Huldah and Dick might manage again to escape! If they did, they would go to her, surely! Of course she should be at home to receive them! She told Miss Rose, and though Miss Rose scarcely believed it possible, she thought it kinder to humour her,—besides which there was just the chance,—a chance which could not be missed.
So the two went back to the cottage, where the lamplight still shone out cheerfully through the open door. For a moment hope leaped in their hearts, then a glance round the little kitchen assured them that it was deserted still, and hope died down again.
"Never mind; morning will soon be here," said Miss Rose, hopefully, "and 'joy cometh with the morning.' Now I am going to make up a good fire, and I will read to you, and you must try, Martha, dear, to listen, and not to think of anything else."