Chapter III: Dick's First Day in England

IT was a perfect evening towards the end of June, as Miss Warren sat at the sitting-room window of her brother's house at Holton, anxiously looking down the village street. Her busy fingers were employed in knitting a scarlet sock—one of a pair intended for the little great-nephew she was expecting that day. It was a favourite boast of Miss Warren's that she never allowed herself to be driven by time; so, when she had heard that Dick Gidley was really coming, she had immediately commenced to make preparations for his arrival, and had begun to knit socks for him at once.

"I do hope they'll fit," she thought. "I expect they will, for he's not likely to be bigger than most boys of his age. Poor little fellow! How he must have felt the parting with his parents!—and I know it must almost have broken his mother's heart! She was always of such an affectionate disposition!—Half-past five, I declare! I hope nothing has gone wrong!—Dear me; how foolish I am! The trains on this line are often late, and Theophilus never drives fast!"

Miss Warren was a little woman with a brisk manner, and a round face blooming with health and good-humour. Her trim figure was neatly attired in a grey alpaca gown, fastened at the throat with a big brooch which contained two twists of hair—her mother's and father's—whilst, depending from her neck, she wore a fine long gold chain, to which was attached the watch in her waist-belt.

Presently she laid down her knitting, and, rising from her seat, ventured to put her head outside the open window to get a better view of the street. No one was within sight, and not a sound was to be heard but the gentle murmur of the sea.

"Every one is having tea, I suppose," Miss Warren reflected. "Dear me; I hope they will come soon! I have not felt so excited for years!"

The preceding day her brother had gone to London to meet little Dick; and this morning she had received a telegram from him, saying the vessel had arrived, and she might expect him and her nephew by the train reaching Holton about five o'clock in the afternoon. She had sent the doctor's gig to the station, had seen that a substantial meal was set in readiness for the travellers, and now she was literally on the tiptoe of expectation, her ears strained in hopes of catching the sounds of carriage-wheels, her bright dark eyes, which had smiled on the world for fifty years, and were no dimmer on that account, peering down the narrow village street.

At last she pulled her head in quickly, and, hastening to the front door, opened it wide and took her position on the doorstep just as the doctor's gig appeared in sight. Her brother was driving, and by his side was a little, pale-faced, brown-eyed boy, to whom he was evidently pointing out certain objects of interest, as Firefly, the stout cob, proceeded leisurely homewards.

"How slowly Theophilus drives!" Miss Warren exclaimed. "And that poor child must be so weary, too! How white he looks! Oh, Theophilus, here you are at last!"

The gig drew up, and the doctor proceeded to alight. He gave the reins to the groom—who had walked from the station, and had covered the ground as fast as Firefly on account of the road being all uphill—and then lifted down the little stranger.

"Welcome to your new home," he said, as he set Dick on the doorstep. "This lady, my boy, is your Aunt Mary Ann!"

"Who is more glad than she can express to see you!" Miss Warren cried heartily, as she kissed Dick and led him into the house. "Come into the sitting-room and let me look at you. Dear me, what white cheeks! Never mind, you'll soon grow rosy at Holton! Ah, I see a look of your dear mother in your face!"

"Do you?" Dick said, his countenance glowing with pleasure. He had been feeling very low-spirited, for in saying good-bye to Colonel and Mrs. Blair, under whose kind care he had travelled to England, it had seemed as though he was severing the last tie between the old life and the new; but he could not help brightening at being told he was like his mother.

"Yes," Miss Warren nodded, "especially when you smile. I shall write and tell her so. Oh, my dear boy, I'm so glad to see you! Your uncle and I are pleased and proud that you are going to make your home with us! To-morrow you and I will have a nice long chat together, and I will tell you about your mother when she was a little girl. You will like to hear that, I am sure!"

"Oh, yes," Dick answered earnestly, "indeed I shall!"

"I expect you are very tired, are you not, and hungry, too?"

"A little tired," he acknowledged, "but not very hungry."

"Oh, you may not think so, but I am sure you must be! Come with me, and I will show you your own room; it is close to mine."

Dick followed Miss Warren upstairs into a small bedroom, which, she informed him, had once been his mother's. He was pleased to hear that, and looked at his companion with grateful eyes, whereupon she impulsively kissed him again, for his mother's sake this time, she said.

Drawing him to the window, which looked upon an old-fashioned garden where vegetables and flowers both grew in profusion, she pointed out what a fine view was to be seen. The country Was very beautiful, and Dick uttered an exclamation of admiration as his eyes rested on green meadows, woods in the luxuriant leafage of June, and a glimpse of blue sea on which several small vessels were sailing.

"What brown sails those ships have," he remarked. "I never saw sails that colour before!"

"They are trawlers—fishing-boats. The sails are always that rich, red-brown shade. You are fond of the sea, my dear?"

"Very fond of it, Aunt Mary Ann. I am glad Holton is by the sea."

"I hope you will be very happy here, Dick; we shall try to make you so. Ah, here's your uncle! Well, Theophilus?"

"Dick's luggage will be brought from the station on a hand truck, by-and-by," the doctor remarked. "You can come to my room and use my brush and comb, if you like, Dick."

Dick followed his uncle, whilst Miss Warren went downstairs and rang for tea. Presently the others joined her, and they sat down at the table.

Dick noticed that Aunt Mary Ann did most of the talking, whilst Uncle Theophilus sat by and listened, only now and then putting in a word.

Uncle Theophilus was a big man, as slow in manner as in speech. He was some years his sister's senior, and looked more than his age. There was something remarkably attractive in his grave, clean-shaven face, and the smile which occasionally lit up his grey eyes was peculiarly gentle and sweet. When the little boy had slipped his fingers into the doctor's large hand that morning, he had felt instinctively, with youth's quick perception, that he had found a friend; and during the journey from London to Holton, though they had not talked much, Dick had been strengthened in his first impression that Uncle Theophilus was a person to be trusted.

Miss Warren was much distressed to find that Dick had a very poor appetite; and was loud in her exclamations of disappointment because he appeared incapable of appreciating the many good things before him.

"A little more ham, Dick?—No! Then have some cake?—No! Some bread and butter?—No, again! Why, you have not had enough to satisfy a robin!" she exclaimed, when Dick politely but firmly declined to eat any more. "Theophilus, you must give him a tonic! The poor child has no appetite whatever!"

"Fresh English breezes will be the best tonics for him, I expect," the doctor replied quietly; "however, we shall see! I shall prescribe that he keeps out-of-doors as much as possible!"

"But you'll give him some medicine, won't you?" Miss Warren asked anxiously.

"I think not. He shall have some drives with me. How would you like that, Dick?"

"Oh, that would be splendid!" the little boy cried, his cheeks flushing with pleasure. "What is your horse called, Uncle Theophilus?"

"Firefly."

"The laziest animal in the world!" Miss Warren declared, shaking her head at her brother. "You know it's true, Theophilus, and it's all your fault! You indulge him, and let him go his own pace. He's getting so fat that soon he'll be a laughing-stock for the whole country-side!"

The doctor smiled good-temperedly, and made no reply, doubtless because he knew his sister was right. After tea he went out to see a patient, and Dick was left to the tender mercies of Aunt Mary Ann. Then his luggage arrived and was duly unpacked. His mother had sent several presents to her aunt and uncle, and Miss Warren was simply delighted.

"How kind of dear Margaret!" she said. "These sofa cushions are lovely—worked in silver and gold thread by the natives, I suppose. Come into the drawing-room, Dick, and let us see how the cushions will look on the sofa."

The drawing-room was not nearly such a cheerful apartment as the sitting-room, although it looked out into the pretty, old-fashioned garden. The furniture was heavy, and all the chairs were draped with brown Holland coverings; a piano occupied one corner of the room, but it was seldom touched, now-a-days, except, as Dick afterwards found out, on Sundays, when his aunt was sometimes tempted to play a chant or a hymn-tune.

Miss Warren arranged the cushions on the sofa, and seemed satisfied with the effect; then, seeing how tired Dick was looking, she suggested that he should go to bed; so he accordingly went upstairs to his own room. She came to visit him after he was in bed, and asked him if he had said his prayers; being satisfied on that point, she fussed around the apartment, seeing everything was in order, and then kissed him affectionately, bidding him soon sleep like a good boy. Dick heard her go downstairs ere he buried his head beneath the clothes and sobbed as though his heart would break. He was so dreadfully lonely, poor little boy; but he would not for anything have had Aunt Mary know that he was crying. She was as kind as his mother had said she would be; but still, she was a stranger to him. On board ship he had had Colonel and Mrs. Blair, whom he had known all his short life, to console him, and he had felt saying good-bye to them a great deal. He had not liked to tell Aunt Mary Ann how sore his heart was, nor how miserable he felt.

He went over again the parting with his parents on that memorable day weeks before, when they had been obliged to leave him on the homeward-bound vessel. How he had clung to them weeping; how pale his father had looked, and how his mother had scarcely been able to tear herself away from his embrace. He shut his eyes, and fancied he heard their voices; his father's saying, "Good-bye, Dick; be a brave boy! God bless you, my little son!" and his mother's, "Don't forget us, Dick!" As though it was possible that he could ever forget them! He was too young to know that that involuntary cry had come from her aching heart, prompted by the fear which haunted her that Sir Richard Gidley might try to win her son's affection from her—a fear she had never breathed to her husband, or to any one but God.

Dick cried till he felt quite exhausted, and then lay perfectly still, listening to the sounds which reached his room—his aunt's voice downstairs, the footsteps of passers-by in the street outside. By-and-by he heard the front door open and shut; and presently, slow, deliberate steps mounted the stairs; the door opened quietly, and the doctor entered, bearing a lighted candle in his hand, which he placed on the dressing-table.

"I have come to say good-night to you, Dick," he said in his deep pleasant voice, as he seated himself in a chair by the bedside. Then he took one of the child's hot hands in his, and breathed— "A-ah!"

Dick was ashamed to be caught crying; but Uncle Theophilus tactfully refrained from remarking upon his very evident distress; instead, he spoke of the drive he meant to take on the morrow, and asked Dick if he would bear him company.

"Oh, yes, please!" Dick answered. "How kind of you to think of taking me!"

"We must be friends, you and I," the doctor remarked cordially, "for we shall see a great deal of each other, you know!"

"Oh, yes!" Dick agreed. His breath was still coming in little gasping sobs. "I am very sorry," he added apologetically, "I—I can't help it—and you and Aunt Mary Ann are so kind, too!"

"Never mind, my boy, I think I understand. Life is very hard sometimes, Dick; I've found that myself; but a stout heart and a firm trust in One above help us along many a rugged path. Your mother has taught you that?"

"Yes, Uncle Theophilus. I'm afraid I'm a big coward; but I do want to be brave. I should like to be a soldier, when I'm a man, like father."

"You can be a soldier now, if you like—a soldier of the Lord Jesus Christ. You can fight on His side for truth against falsehood, for love against hate, for holiness against sin. You need not wait until you are a man to be a soldier of Christ; the smallest, feeblest child may fight under His banner, and win a crown of life!"

"Oh, that's exactly what mother says!"

"Ah!" the doctor's grave face broke into a smile. "You must always remember your mother's teaching, Dick. I think if she was here now, she would say you ought to go to sleep—so I'll say good-night."

"Good-night," Dick responded. The sound of tears was gone from his voice, and he spoke quite cheerfully. "It was awfully good of you to think of coming to see me, Uncle Theophilus; and I'm so glad you did, though I didn't want you to see what a baby I am."

"Oh, I'm not going to tell any one, Dick, rest assured upon that point. We all feel life is a little too much for us sometimes, and then the fighting spirit rises within us, and we determine, by God's help, to overcome our sorrows and difficulties. I suppose that was the case with you to-night, moping here by yourself. I hope I have succeeded in raising your British pluck?"

"Yes; I think you have," Dick replied, smiling. "I'm not going to mope any longer; I'm going to sleep, instead." And he was as good as his word.