Chapter XIV: How to Take Things

"JOCK, suppose you were an officer in the Army—" Jock looked up eagerly, for he meant to be, one day—"and suppose you were found fault with for something you could not help. You might get a real big rowing from your superior officer, when all the while you had not meant to do anything wrong. How would you take it? Would you fly into a rage?—Or would you say—'It wasn't me, sir, it was Smith?'—Or would you rush away and have a good cry?"

Jock laughed.

"Of course you would do nothing of the sort. You would just stand straight and still, and listen quietly, and then you would salute your officer and would bear the rowing without a word."

"'Would' I?"

"Undoubtedly. That is Army discipline. Don't you think that in this case, it is wiser for you just to take the consequences of what you have done—even though you did not mean to do wrongly?"

Jock nodded assent.

"That's right. Now—would you like to come and see my father? He expects you one day."

Jock sighed, for it sounded tempting. "I just oughtn't to be out at all," he murmured. "Aunt Judith said I was to stop in my room all day."

"Why didn't you?"

"I wanted to post my letter."

Which the Captain knew he had not posted, but he put no more questions. "I think you had better hurry back now, as fast as you can, and tell Aunt Judith why you came out. And then—take your punishment like a man."

"Will it be like that officer that got rowed?" Jock asked earnestly.

"It will. So—shake hands, and be off like lightning."

The warm grip of that strong hand put heart into the boy. He smiled and raced away, never slackening till close to Grannie's kitchen-garden. And there, unexpectedly, he banged straight into Mousie, seated alone and disconsolately on the ground.

Instantly Jock's mood changed, and dire resentment took possession of him. For at the bottom of all this trouble was Mousie. He stopped short—dead—and faced her, and Mousie gave him a pitiful little smile, and put her hand on his arm. Jock promptly shook it off.

"'Dear' Jock," the small maiden said wistfully.

"Oh, get out," retorted Jock. "You've had your way, and I've got to pay for it—that's all."

"Was Miss Baynes most awfully angry?"

Jock faced her with firmly shut lips.

"Was it all because of yesterday? I didn't mean to get you punished—truly I didn't."

"You've done it—anyhow."

"Jock—you didn't tell about me?"

"Shouldn't think you need ask that!"

"But you won't—you won't—will you?"

"There—get out. I've said I won't."

"Jock—you aren't angry with me?"

"Oh, get out," repeated Jock, with a move onward.

"I do love you so."

"Looks like it," uttered the aggrieved Jock.

"But I do—truly. And I won't ever do it again. And I'd tell—I would, Jock—if it wasn't just for that prize. Do you mind so very much, just this one time? I promise faithfully I'll never let you get blamed again—not for anything."

"I don't think 'your' promises are worth much."

"Oh, but they are. If only you'll forgive me this one time, and won't let out what I did—specially if you won't tell Captain Royle. 'Cause I know he wouldn't like me never any more."

"Oh, get along," was Jock's response, and he rushed away, refusing to see Mousie's face of entreaty.

This little scene had rubbed him all the wrong way, calling up his grievances and making more distasteful than before the idea of going to tell Aunt Judith. On first leaving Captain Royle, it had looked so easy, and now it was not easy at all. He remembered the things she had said to him, and he did not want to see her.

He went slowly through the back-garden, and reached the house. The passage within was empty, and nothing would be more easy than just to run up to his room, and perhaps then she would not need to know that he had left it at all. But—he remembered that he had to be a man, and he heard Aunt Judith's little cough in the morning-room. He opened the door.

"Jock—" she said.

"I've been out," he said in a hurry "And I know I oughtn't to. I wanted to post a letter to Mummy. And I didn't. And—I'm sorry."

"You ought to be. Go to your room at once."

Jock obeyed, and stood at his window, gazing out. Then he became aware that his arm was very stiff and painful. He had had so much to think about as to have paid it small attention thus far. So he pulled off his jacket, and unfastened the bandage which had slipped from its right place. Jock was regarding the bruised and discoloured patch with rueful eyes, when Aunt Judith came in.

"What have you done to yourself?" she asked.

"I—had a tumble."

"You must have the arm bathed. Give me that handkerchief."

Jock held it out, then snatched it back. He knew that in one corner were Mousie's initials, large and clear. It went hurriedly into his pocket.

"Give me that handkerchief, Jock."

"I—can't," Jock said desperately. "Please, Aunt Judith—I mustn't. It isn't mine."

Miss Baynes gave him one of her steady looks, and to his surprise she did not repeat the order. She went for some warm water and bathed the arm, tying it up afresh.

"That will soon be better, but you must take care not to knock it. Now mind, Jock—there must be no more of such doings—breaking rules, and refusing to answer questions, and worst of all, being untruthful. I am not going to say anything to your mother by this mail, because I do not want to give her pain without real need. But if anything of the kind happens again, she will have to know." Jock felt very glad that he had not posted his letter. "I thought you were a boy who could be trusted, and I am disappointed."

"Dad always said—" broke in Jock.

"Yes, your father did say so, and I am very sorry to find him mistaken." Jock swallowed something with difficulty. "I suppose you expect not to be punished, now you have told me. But—"

"No," Jock said resolutely.

Aunt Judith stood looking at him again.

"I might lock you in your room," she said slowly. "But this time I will not. You will spend the rest of the day there, and you will not come down this evening. To-morrow you will go to lessons as usual, but you will spend your play-hours in the garden, and not with the Moore children. I think, however, that your real punishment will be that for the present I cannot fully trust you."

Jock crimsoned, but she went on—

"I cannot be always sure that you are speaking the truth. I cannot feel certain that you will obey me when my back is turned. That is a sad state of things, and it makes me unhappy to have to say all this." Aunt Judith really did look unhappy. "But you have brought it on yourself. And it will rest now entirely with yourself to show me how soon you may be trusted."

She went out of the room, and Jock huddled in a corner of the window-seat feeling pretty well at an end of his courage. It was too horrid to be told that he could not be trusted. He felt as if he quite hated Aunt Judith and Mousie, and it did not comfort him even to think how Captain Royle had said that he must bear his punishment like a man. Jock was certain that no man could take this punishment nicely. No, not even an officer in His Majesty's Army.

Darkness was falling when the door-handle rattled gently, and Grannie slipped in, her soft silk gown swishing after a manner of its own.

"My poor little Jock!" was all she said.

And in a moment Jock was in her arms, clinging hard, with his face against her shoulder, yet still determined not to cry.

"Dear little Jock! My own little Jock," she whispered. "How did it come about, my pet?"

Jock's whole frame was heaving with the struggle to keep down his sobs, and he said nothing, only nestled more closely into that comforting clasp, and she fondled him lovingly.

"You won't do it again, will you? No, I know—I am sure you never meant to say what wasn't true; only there was some mistake, perhaps. But you won't again. And you will take care to keep within bounds, like a darling. And you won't worry poor Aunt Judith. Oh no, don't say that—" as Jock gulped out something about—"didn't care if she was worried." Mrs. Baynes stroked his hair. "You are such a kind little boy, I know you don't wish to worry anybody. And I am certain you won't disobey again. And then things will come right, and we shall all forget about to-day. And you will say your prayers presently, and ask to be forgiven—won't you? It wasn't all quite perfectly right, was it, my pet?"

Jock said "No—" But added—"'She' wasn't right neither. I think Aunt Judith ought to say 'her' prayers. She didn't ought to say I'd told a lie."

"It was very hard to bear, if you knew you had not—yes, of course, I see that. But things were just a little difficult, and you wouldn't explain—'couldn't'—was that it? And so she really did feel sure. But I do hope she may have made a mistake, and so things were not exactly as she thought. We all make mistakes sometimes, you know—you and I do, too. You must not go to bed feeling angry and bitter about her."

"P'raps I'd better stay up, Grannie," Jock quite seriously suggested.

"I don't think that would be a good plan. You would be so very tired. And it would be just as bad to sit up, feeling bitter and unforgiving, as to go to bed. The Bible tells us we are not to 'let the sun go down on our wrath'—even when it is a right kind of wrath. And the sun will soon be going down."

"I don't like Aunt Judith."

"But you have to like her, because she is Mummie's sister and my child. And because she wants so much to do what is best for our dear little Jock. Yes, she really does, Jock darling. So won't you try?" coaxed Grannie.

And how could Jock murmur anything but—"Yes"?