Chapter VI: Discovery

"HOW do-do, do-do, do-do?" shrieked out the unmusical voice of Mr. Punch, who came proudly to the front, decked in his gold and spangled attire. "Don't yer know me, my little dog Toby?"

Toby, befrilled and unmuzzled, gazed upon Punch with seeming indifference, and then upon the assembled crowd, as much as to say: "Did you ever see such a silly old thing in your life?"

"Shake hands, Toby!" echoed the shrill voice again.

Toby's paw was held out obediently. "Now the other one, Toby! Beautiful! Beautiful!" cried Mr. Punch in rapture, winking one of his great eyes, and forthwith embracing the clever little doggie.

To Gerald, the Punch and Judy Show was most enthralling, and the kindness he received from the hands of the good proprietor and his wife, justified all the golden opinions he had formed of them.

Finding the boy's manner and appearance a great source of profit to their coffers—for few could resist the lad as he came round with the little collecting bag—they tried to make the life as attractive as possible to him. But try as they would, there was much in it that jarred against Gerald's sensibilities, and he occasionally longed for the refined surroundings of his uncle's home.

The novelty of his existence very soon wore off, and though he did not care to show his reluctance, he grew at last to hate the task of collecting the money.

After he had been about ten days with "Professor" Wraggs and his wife, a delightful event took place. He was going round as usual, during the performance, with his bag, when a clear young voice fell upon his ear.

"Uncle Wilfrid," said a child, on the verge of the crowd, "dear Uncle Wilfrid, do stop and see the Punch and Judy Show!"

"'You' may, little one, if you like. Nurse will take care of you, while I go to buy a paper. I'll soon be with you again," answered Uncle Wilfrid.

And Doris Maxwell, to whom the sad story of Gerald's supposed fate had never been told, for fear of the shock it would give the tender little heart, watched the performance, with her merry brown eyes twinkling with fun.

Gerald saw with great surprise that his little friend Doris was amongst the audience, but not caring to be recognised in his new position, turned his back upon the pretty child and her nurse.

"May I give that boy with the bag my fripenny-piece, Nurse?"

"A penny is quite enough, dearie," said Nurse, with an air of wisdom.

Not waiting for the boy's approach, she slipped away from her nurse, and was about to drop the silver coin—for Doris was self-willed as ever—into the bag, when glancing up, she saw the face of her friend and former playmate, Gerald Weston.

"Gerald, oh, Gerald!" she cried in surprised delight.

The boy turned crimson with shame at the recognition, although he felt a keen sense of pleasure in again seeing his little friend.

But business was business, and Mrs. Wraggs noticed that something unusual had taken place, and that the attention of some of the bystanders was diverted from the Show. This could not be allowed to go on, and calling the boy to her side, she took the collecting bag out of his hand and bade him remain at the back of the Show, whilst she undertook his duties. With a lingering look at Doris, he obeyed.

A few minutes later, Mr. Sharpe appeared upon the scene, and to him Doris told her story.

"Impossible, my dear, impossible!" he said, though wherefore he dared not tell her.

"But, uncle, I know it was Gerald." And in distress at his unbelief, the child's eyes filled with tears.

At the conclusion of the Show, Mr. Sharpe, at his little niece's urgent request, made the acquaintance of the "Professor," desiring to see the lad whose business it was to collect the money. And feeling it was useless to deny the wish of such an important looking gentleman, the man gave Gerald a call.

"Gerry, my lad, you're wanted!"

The similarity of the names gave Mr. Sharpe a slight shock. Could it be possible that Doris was right after all? The boy, who was standing at some little distance, obeyed the call. Upon seeing Mr. Sharpe, he gave a glad look of recognition, but the eyes, instead of looking at him in the old genial manner, had an expression of sternness therein, although deep down in his heart the lawyer was conscious of a feeling of great relief and thankfulness.

"You must come home with me, Gerald, at once," he said.

"Yes, yes, I will, only 'please' don't send me back to Uncle Herbert."

"We don't want to part with him, sir; he's a very good lad to us," said Mrs. Wraggs, who had joined the little group.

"How came he to be under your care?" demanded the lawyer.

Then the whole story was truthfully told.

And Mr. Sharpe, feeling that the showman and his wife had acted the part of Good Samaritans, acquitted them of all blame; nay more, he amply rewarded them out of his own pocket for the care they had bestowed upon Sir Herbert Weston's runaway heir.