Chapter XXVIII: Conclusion

"OH, Ann, I do feel so excited!" The speaker was Violet Wyndham, and her pretty face, with its bright colour, smiling lips, and sparkling eyes, was witness to the truth of her statement. It was within a few days of Christmas, the school term having ended on the previous afternoon, and she and Ann had been putting the finishing touches to the room which had been prepared for the visitor who was expected to arrive on the morrow.

"Oh, how delightful it will be to see dear old Ruthie," she continued; "I expect her box is packed by this time. I wonder how they will manage without her at home!"

"It is very good of your mother to spare her to us," said Mrs. Reed, entering the room at that instant; "we must try to make her visit a happy one."

"Oh, I am sure it will be that!" Violet cried sanguinely, her brown eyes softening with gratitude as she turned them upon Mrs. Reed who was glancing around to see that everything was as it should be. "You are so very, very kind," she proceeded, "it was so like you to give this invitation to Ruthie, and I can't express how glad I am that she could accept it. It seems so wonderful that we should have such friends! As for me—I shall never be able to repay you for your goodness to me as long as I live! I know I must have worried you a great deal at first, I was so untidy and careless, but I've really improved in that way of late, haven't I?" she questioned anxiously.

"Yes," assented Mrs. Reed, with a smile; "you most certainly have. The room looks very nice, girls, I don't think there is anything more to be done to it."

"We must be in good time to meet Ruth at the station to-morrow," remarked Ann; "I hope her train will not be overcrowded. She has never travelled alone before, has she, Violet?"

"Never," Violet answered. "I wonder how Agnes Hosking is feeling," she observed reflectively, a moment later, a sudden gravity overshadowing her countenance; "she must be a good way on her journey by this time—she will have a very long journey, as she has to go right through London and on to Bath."

"I am afraid she will have a miserable Christmas," said Ann; "I think I never saw anyone more depressed and unhappy than she was when we said good-bye to her yesterday. 'I shall never see you again,' she said, 'and you will have only unpleasant memories of me.' We did not know what to say to her, as you may imagine, mother, for of course we could not contradict her."

"I have the greatest difficulty in realising that she is poor, it seems incredible," said Violet; "I used to think she was to be envied because she always had plenty of money to spend and we had so little, and Ruthie used to get so vexed with me. Well, I certainly have no cause to be envious of Agnes now, for she is more wretched than anyone I ever knew."

"She is intensely selfish and pities herself extremely," said Ann; "I believe she is rather inclined to blame her father for losing his money; she said she thought he must have been foolish and reckless, and yet I am positive she loves him."

"Poor girl!" exclaimed Mrs. Reed. "Perhaps poverty will teach her a great deal she has never learnt yet," she proceeded thoughtfully, "and to be kinder and more considerate to other people; she will be called upon to make sacrifices now, and that may be the very discipline she wants."

"I hope she will never gamble again," said Ann gravely, "I spoke to her about it and remarked what dreadful things it often led people to do, but she did not seem in the least impressed until I told her all about Lottie Medland—of course I did not mention Lottie by name, only as the girl who stole her purse."

"And you say she was impressed then?" Mrs. Reed inquired.

"Yes. She tried, at first, to argue that betting and gambling were different matters altogether, but by-and-by she admitted that the principle of each was the same—the desire to gain money at another's expense. Then she reminded me that people in good society gambled, and I said that I didn't think any society could be truthfully called 'good' in which such a wicked practice was tolerated, and that if people in high positions would only taboo it those in the lower classes of society would follow their example—I heard father say that the other day. Oh, we had quite a warm argument, I can tell you."

"Yes, indeed," nodded Violet, "and in the end she was obliged to allow there was a great deal in all Ann had said, and she promised to bear it in mind."

"I hope she will," Mrs. Reed said gravely; "I trust there will be no playing cards for money at Helmsford College next term, if so it ought certainly to be brought to the knowledge of Miss Orchardson. It is a good thing those Pelhams have left, girls like those do a great deal of harm in a school and always exercise a bad influence over their companions."

"Now, my dears," she continued in a brisker tone, "I'm going to tell you something which I know will give you pleasure—it is about Lottie Medland. I met Dr. Elizabeth when I was in the town doing my shopping this morning, and she spoke of Lottie to me, said how greatly the girl had changed for the better in every way since her illness, and that she believed she would keep steady now and live to be a real comfort to her mother. Of course I was very, very glad to hear this, especially as it came from Dr. Elizabeth; for she has so many acquaintances among the factory hands that she would be sure to find out the truth about Lottie. Then she went on to tell me that Lottie is beginning to save money and is putting by something every week, sometimes only a few coppers, sometimes more; and why do you think she is doing this?"

"I don't know," Violet replied, "to buy something she fancies, I suppose?"

"To have a nest egg against a rainy day?" suggested Ann.

"No," smiled Mrs. Reed, "she is doing it in hope of being able to repay the money she stole—"

"But, mother, she knows that Agnes has had the money repaid to her," broke in Ann, "I told her that father had made it good."

"She intends to return the money to your father, Ann; she has talked the matter over with Dr. Elizabeth, who has consented to keep her savings for her till she has the full amount. I was very glad to hear this of Lottie, for it shows that she is grateful to your father and feels her indebtedness to him. I shall certainly advise him to accept the money; it will take her some time to save it, though, poor girl!"

"Yes, indeed it will," agreed Violet.

"I can realise how she feels," said Ann; "I am sure she will be happier in her mind if she can make the money good. I know father hasn't given a second thought to the money itself and never expects it to be repaid. How surprised he will be when he gets it back! We must go and see the Medlands before Christmas, Violet."

"You shall take a Christmas pudding with you as a gift from me to Mrs. Medland," said Mrs. Reed.

"Let us wait till after to-morrow, then Ruthie will be able to go with us!" cried Violet; "I want her to see the old part of the town."

"We must show her all we can whilst she is with us," Ann replied; "it shall not be our fault if she does not have a thoroughly good time."

And it was a thoroughly good time Ruth enjoyed during those Christmas holidays, a time to be subsequently remembered with keenest gratitude and pleasure; for, as she remarked to her sister on the evening of her arrival at Barford, there was nothing in the background to worry her, and she had left those at home well, and in the best of spirits.

It was a new experience for Ruth to be made the first consideration, and she thoroughly appreciated the novelty of the situation. The weather, though cold, was remarkably fine for the season, and thus there were favourable opportunities for taking her to various places in the neighbourhood. She had some delightful drives with the doctor in his gig; and old Mrs. Garret, hearing that a sister of Violet's was visiting at the Reeds', wrote and gave the three girls an invitation to spend a long day with her grand-daughters, an invitation which was promptly accepted. Ruth had never before seen such a picturesque home as Mrs. Garret's fine old country house standing, as it did, in the midst of scenery which, in spite of the season being winter, impressed her with its beauty; and she was charmed with the sweet-faced, white-haired old lady, who welcomed her so cordially, and the two gentle-mannered girls, upon whom she looked with especial favour because she knew they had been kind and loyal to the sister she loved so well.

"I think I never enjoyed Christmas holidays so much before," remarked Ann in a tone of satisfaction, one evening early in January, when Dr. and Mrs. Reed had gone out to dine with friends, and she and the sisters were passing the time in chatting whilst they sat by the drawing-room fire; "as a rule they have rather dragged—when mother's been out of the way, you know, and I've had no one to talk to. It's so nice to have companions of one's own age. I hope you don't begrudge Violet to me now, Ruth; I had rather an idea in the summer, at Teymouth, that you did."

"I don't know that I ever actually begrudged her to you," Ruth answered, colouring as she spoke; "but I was rather afraid that you might wean her from us—not intentionally, though."

"Oh, Ruthie!" cried Violet, whilst Ann looked her surprise; "certainly Ann and I have become great friends, but I love you and all of them at home as much as I ever did—more, I believe."

"Yes, but it might have been otherwise," Ruth reminded her; "I thought you might learn to despise your home. You see I didn't know Mrs. Reed and Ann when you left home, Vi. You are so different from what I had pictured you, Ann."

"Now I do wonder what you and Violet thought I should be like," said Ann, looking puzzled; "I wish you would tell me, for I have so often been curious upon the point and wanted to know. Both of you have told me the same, that I am different from what you had pictured me."

"Shall I tell her, Ruth?" asked Violet, laughing mischievously. Then, as her sister nodded assent, she continued: "Well, one day, after Dr. Reed had been to see us at Streatham, we were speaking of you, and mother called you Prosperity's child—"

"Prosperity's child!" broke in Ann, opening her grey eyes very wide in her surprise. "Prosperity's child?" she echoed, inquiringly.

"Yes," nodded Violet, "I'd been wondering what you were like, and I said, I remember, that I expected you had everything heart could desire. Oh, I was in a horrid, grumbling mood! and mother said that doubtless you had all that father and she would give me if they could, and she reminded me that I was a poor man's daughter and that you were—Prosperity's child. You see we knew that your father had got on well in the world, and we thought—I'm speaking of Ruth and myself now, I don't know what mother's ideas were—that you wouldn't understand anything about the pinches and privations some people get. That's why I was shy about talking of our home to you at first; you see I'd often heard father say that prosperity spoilt people—"

"Some people," corrected Ruth hastily, "he said prosperity had not spoilt Dr. Reed."

"But we didn't know the effect it might have had on you, you know, Ann," Violet went on; "I thought you would be proud and—and selfish very likely, and want to have everything all your own way, and I believe I half feared you might look down on me—Oh, I know you never did! You have all along showed me more consideration than I deserved." She paused a moment, then continued:—

"When I came here first I was surprised at a great many things; I saw that Mrs. Reed managed the house carefully that she might have more to give away, and—and it astonished me that you should take so much interest in people I should never have thought of having anything to do with myself—people like the Medlands, for instance. And I had actually been afraid that you might be a girl like Agnes Hosking, Ann!"

"Poor Agnes!" exclaimed Ann. Her face was growing less puzzled. She had been looking grave and a little hurt, but now a faint, amused smile hovered around her lips. "Poor Agnes," she repeated in pitying accents, "I wonder if we shall ever hear of her again?"

"Not very likely," replied Violet; "Ruth says all Mr. Hosking's belongings at Streatham were sold, and no one seems to know what has become of him."

"People do not interest themselves much about their neighbours in London," said Ruth; "I believe Mr. Hosking used to entertain a good bit, but I expect his friends have turned cold shoulders on him now."

"Then they could not have been real friends," declared Ann. "Oh, I do feel sorry for him and for Agnes too—she has no real friends either, poor girl! I am sure she is heartily ashamed now of the way she treated you over the loss of her purse, Violet."

"So she ought to be," asserted Violet; "there is only one thing to be said for her, that she really did believe I had taken her purse. Well, it's an old story now, and I've forgiven her, so we'll talk of something pleasanter."

"Have you really forgiven her, Vi?" Ruth asked eagerly.

"Yes," nodded Violet, "I thought I never could, but I have. I've often wondered of late whether, if I'd been brought up in the same way as Agnes, I might not have been rather like her; for when I came to Barford a year ago I set great store on wealth and social position, but I've grown to see since then that it's a good thing to be rich only if you help others with your money and don't spend it all on yourself, otherwise you're better without it. So many rich folks are selfish and do nothing but please themselves, they are not like Dr. Elizabeth—I'm so glad you know Dr. Elizabeth, Ruth."

"So am I," Ruth answered. She had spent an evening with her sister and Ann at the lady doctor's house, on an occasion when the latter had entertained a party of factory girls, and had enjoyed herself very much.

"She is the most unselfish person I know," said Ann; "for if she had liked she might have lived at ease all her days; instead, see what a busy, hard-working life hers has been and always will be, I expect. She said to me once that God had given her great opportunities of working for Him and that she must try to make the most of them."

"God gives very few people great opportunities," Ruth remarked. "But we can all do our best with those we have," she added thoughtfully.

"Yes," agreed Ann; "we must believe God gives us just what is best for us, and do all the good we can."

"It sounds very simple," commented Violet, "but it's not very easy to carry it out. I suppose to do good one must be good. Ann, do you remember that verse Dr. Elizabeth quoted to us? I've so often thought of it since:—"

"'Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever,
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long;
And so make Life, Death, and that vast "For-ever"
One grand sweet song.'"

"I like that," declared Ruth heartily, "Of course goodness ought to come first. It is not given to us all to be clever, I am not in the least clever myself—"

"Why I am sure you have a great talent for painting," interrupted Ann, "you cannot think how much that sketch you did of Granny's cottage has been admired! So many people have noticed it, haven't they, Violet?"

Violet assented, and Ruth naturally looked very pleased. The conversation then turned to Teymouth and the probability of the families of Reed and Wyndham meeting there in August, and, by-and-by, as it was growing late and they were not to sit up till the return of Dr. and Mrs. Reed, the trio went to bed.

On the following morning Ann received a letter with the Bath postmark, which proved to be a few lines from Agnes Hosking saying that her father had decided to emigrate to New Zealand, to join a brother of his who was settled there as a sheep farmer and had offered to give him a helping hand, and that she was to accompany him.

"I could remain with my grandmother if I liked," she wrote; "but I prefer to go with father. You seemed to care about what was to become of me, so that is why I am letting you know. Perhaps, some day, I may write again, and if I do I will give you my address. You and Violet Wyndham have no cause to think of me kindly, yet I know you both wish me well, and I am grateful for that. If you think I'm worth a second thought you might pray for me—I know you believe in prayer, and I don't think anyone ever prayed for me yet."

"Poor girl," said Mrs. Reed, when her daughter read this letter aloud to her and the two Wyndham girls; "it may be this is the turning point in her career. I am glad she is going with her father. We must all of us remember her in our prayers."

"Fancy her saying no one ever prayed for her yet!" exclaimed Violet; "how sad that seems!" And her bright eyes grew dim with sympathetic tears, whilst the last lingering trace of resentment in her heart against her erstwhile enemy died out altogether.

At the end of another week Ruth's visit came to an end. She parted from her sister very cheerfully, content in the knowledge that, strange though it seemed, Violet had actually drawn nearer to her in heart and soul during their separation. That this was owing to Ann's influence Ruth knew very well, and her heart was full to overflowing with love and gratitude towards this true friend—Prosperity's Child.

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