Chapter VI: In the Hayfield

MERRIMENT in the hayfield was at its height. A group of youngsters, including Theodore and the vicarage children—two girls of ten and twelve, and a boy of six—were engaged in a thorough romping game, whilst Jack, enthroned on a beautiful couch of softest hay, watched them with contented, happy eyes. Mr. Barton was at a little distance with the haymakers, as was the vicar—a big middle-aged man, with a kindly face, merry blue eyes, and a deep resounding voice.

Mrs. Barton and Jane had spread a table-cloth on the ground, fastening it securely down with stones and presently the tea was laid, and the children stopped their game, to seat themselves in a ring close to Jack, so that he might join in their eager, joyous conversation. The little tongues grew silent as the business of tea progressed, but their appetites somewhat satisfied, the chatter began again. Then Mr. Barton and the vicar joined the group, and demanded their share of the good things. Theodore, who considered himself the master of the ceremonies, waited upon every one assiduously, taking especial care of his stepbrother.

"Are you sure you are enjoying yourself, Jack?" he would ask; and getting an answer in the affirmative, would be satisfied for about five minutes, when he would put the same question again, and receive the same reply.

Once he approached Mrs. Barton, and in low tones asked her: "Do you think Jack is enjoying himself?"

"I am sure he is, Theodore; he never had such a treat in his life before. It makes me very happy to see him looking so well and bright."

"Yes. Everything is going off splendidly, isn't it? I was afraid Aunt Selina and Aunt Penelope might turn up, but I don't think they will now."

"What makes you think of them?"

"Oh! Aunt Penelope said this morning she would rather like to see the haymakers at work. I was careful not to tell her we were going to have tea here this afternoon!"

The foregoing conversation had taken place shortly before tea, therefore Mrs. Barton was not surprised when the meal was in full swing to see her husband's aunts entering the field. Theodore was filled with consternation at the sight of them, which he made no attempt to hide, for he exclaimed hastily:

"What a nuisance! They will spoil our fun!"

"Theodore!" his father said sternly, in accents of rebuke; but the boy scowled rebelliously.

"Do not let us disturb you, pray!" Miss Selina said, after she and her sister had shaken hands with the elder ones of the party, and nodded to the children. "We have been to the Hall, and learning where you all were, thought we would look in on you for a few minutes."

"And now you must have some tea," Mrs. Barton said. "Children, cannot you make two comfortable seats?"

So two fresh mounds of hay were arranged, and presently the unexpected visitors were seated and sipping their tea complacently. Miss Selina wore the old brown silk gown that every one knew; but Miss Penelope's toilette was very juvenile—white muslin, blue bows, and a sailor hat.

"Your wife is not here?" Miss Selina remarked, addressing the vicar.

"No," he replied; "the baby is poorly, and she did not care to leave home."

"Nothing serious, I hope?"

"Oh, dear, no! Teething, I believe."

"Well, I'll call to-morrow, and cheer your wife up a bit; it's wearisome work nursing a sick child. By the way, I wanted to speak to you—"

And Miss Selina and the vicar drifted into a discussion upon parish matters; whilst Miss Penelope turned her attention to Jack.

"Why, Jack, this is a surprise! How comes it you are here?"

The child laughed happily, and turned his eyes upon his stepbrother.

"It was Theodore who thought of it," he answered. "Wasn't it splendid of him? And father carried me so gently that I was not a bit hurt."

Miss Penelope knitted her brows, and looked from Mr. Barton to Theodore. She had not known before that Jack was in the habit of addressing Mr. Barton as "father," and she was surprised that Theodore, who was at her side, and apparently listening to the conversation, did not seem to resent, or even to notice it.

"Theo arranged everything so that it should be a great surprise for me," Jack continued confidentially, in his serious, old-fashioned way. "A hayfield is a lovely place, I think. Oh, what is it?"

Miss Penelope had given a little scream, and Theodore, who had been watching her with a mischievous look on his face, openly smiled.

"There is something crawling on my neck!" she cried. "Oh, Theodore, see what it is, and take it off! there's a dear boy!"

"All right; keep still, Aunt Pen. Yes, I see it. Keep still, or it will crawl down the neck of your dress, and then—"

He paused expressively, whilst Miss Penelope appealed to him again.

"Oh, be quick, dear Theodore!"

But Theodore did not hurry. He very carefully and slowly removed something from the back of Miss Penelope's neck, and stood looking at her laughingly.

"What was it?" she asked nervously.

"A beetle, a beautiful green beetle," and opening his hand, he disclosed the insect, whereupon Miss Penelope gave a little horrified shriek, and the children could not help a roar of amusement.

"How foolish to make a fuss about such a trifle!" Miss Selina cried. "Really, Penelope, it is almost childish."

Miss Penelope looked resentful at this speech, and she sat in silence for a while.

The children having finished tea, Mrs. Barton sent them off to play again; and the vicar and Mr. Barton returned to the haymakers, whilst Jane packed the cups and plates into baskets, and returned with them to the Hall.

"Now I call this very pleasant," Miss Selina remarked. "What a pretty sight, to be sure. Why, it was years and years ago since I had tea in a hayfield. I suppose this is your first experience of anything of the sort, little man?" she said, glancing smilingly at Jack.

"Yes, indeed. Isn't it jolly?"

"Very. And so it was Theodore's idea, I hear?"

"He thought of it for Jack's sake," Mrs. Barton explained. "Was it not good of him? So many boys of his age would not have cared for another's pleasure."

"He is a good boy," Miss Selina agreed. "And so you two are great friends?" turning to Jack again.

"Yes," he answered promptly. "Oh, yes, great friends!"

"Just like brothers, in fact," Miss Penelope remarked in a tone that made her sister glance at her sharply.

"It is a great gratification to us that it is so," Mrs. Barton said quietly. "I think each is happy in the companionship of the other."

"And Jack calls your husband 'father'?" Miss Penelope queried sweetly. "Now, how nice that is!"

Mrs. Barton coloured faintly, for she anticipated what was coming.

"And does Theodore call you 'mother'? If so, how charming of him!"

"No, he does not," was the prompt answer. "No one has ever asked him to do so. His father would not suggest it; neither would I. Some day, I believe, Theodore will call me 'mother' of his own free will."

"To be sure, to be sure," Miss Selina agreed briskly. "The boy's not one to be driven an inch, but I believe he can be led by kindness and love. Now, you know, I am nothing if not outspoken," using her pet phrase, "and I always speak my mind. I see well enough that Theodore stands aloof from you, and you are fearful lest your will should clash with his, but I really do not think you need be. If I were you, I would exert my authority over him a little more. I would not let him be so much with that Tom Blake."

"Tom Blake—who is he?" Mrs. Barton asked anxiously.

"He is the blacksmith's little boy," Jack hastened to explain. "I have never seen him, but Theodore has told me all about him."

"I do not think there is much to his credit to tell," Miss Selina continued. "He is one of the worst boys I know, always staying away from school on one excuse or another, always telling falsehoods and swearing, and a regular bully."

"Oh, dear!" Mrs. Barton cried in dismayed accents; "and you say Theodore goes about with him? I don't think his father knows it."

"Probably not; but Jane must, and she ought to have put a stop to it ages ago. I expect, though, Theodore wheedled around her to let him have his own way."

Jack looked thoroughly uncomfortable, for he knew Theodore was often in Tom Blake's company, and he also knew that Jane was much distressed at the fact, though she had not sufficient control over the wayward boy to prevent it.

"Do you know anything about this matter, Jack?" Mrs. Barton enquired, noticing her little son's uneasy countenance.

"Not much, mother," he replied, rather evasively. "Of course I know Theo goes out with Tom Blake sometimes—often," correcting himself truthfully.

"And does Jane allow it?"

"No—that is, she does not like it. She wanted Theo to promise not to have anything more to do with Tom, but he would not promise."

"Just as I thought!" Miss Selina exclaimed. "Jane gives way to him in everything. Now," turning to Mrs. Barton, who looked much disturbed, "you see how necessary it is that some one holding more authority than a servant should interfere."

"I do indeed see it."

Mrs. Barton sighed as she turned the matter over in her mind, and came to the conclusion that it was her place to speak to Theodore about his questionable friend.

Presently Miss Selina and Miss Penelope took their departure, and then little Jack turned a distressed face to his mother.

"Oh, mother!" he cried, "what shall I do? I ought not to have told you anything about Theo's going with Tom Blake. Theo will be so angry."

"Nonsense, my dear. It was Miss Selina who told me, in the first place."

"Of course Theo couldn't promise not to have anything more to do with Tom Blake, if he meant to all the time."

"No, certainly not. But remember, Jack, it is Theodore's duty to obey Jane whilst he is under her charge."

"I know. But Theo wouldn't tell a lie, mother; and you see he doesn't mean to give up Tom Blake—he says he is such a nice boy."

"And do you think he is, Jack?"

Jack hung his head guiltily, mindful of many things that Theodore had repeated to him as clever speeches of Tom's.

Mrs. Barton did not press the question, and presently the party in the hayfield broke up.

"This has been the happiest day of my life," the little invalid confided to his stepbrother later on, "and I've been thanking God for it."

"It has been jolly," Theodore replied. "But what a queer chap you are, to thank God for it; you're as funny as old John Bawdon— that's just his way of talking."

Jack was by no means offended at this remark; he was accustomed now to Theodore's flippant manner of speaking. Instead, he continued:

"Mother says we should never forget to thank God. She says we're always ready to ask Him for things, and often forget to thank Him. But I haven't forgotten to-day. I feel so grateful, and as if I love Him so dearly. There's one thing I never forget to thank Him for; do you know what that is, Theo?"

"Not I," with a laugh.

"For giving me you, Theo."

And Theodore made no answer, only looked in wonderment at his stepbrother's bright, loving face, and decided that he was very peculiar—a decision he came to scores of times in a week.

So the happiest day of Jack's life came to a close; and when the little fellow went tired to bed, he fell asleep quickly, and dreamt a wonderful dream that he never forgot: for in it he thought he no longer lay watching the other children, but ran about and played with them.

It was the happiest dream he ever dreamt, a fit ending to the happiest day.