Chapter VIII: Theodore's Disobedience, and the Result

FOR some days after Theodore's exhibition of disobedience and passion, he was very subdued and quiet, treating Jane with great consideration, and spending most of his spare time in Jack's company.

Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Barton referred to Tom Blake, and Theodore felt he was quite forgiven for his naughtiness. But the boy could not overcome the slight reserve that his stepmother seemed to have wrapped around her.

Hitherto he had been content to keep out of her way as much as possible; now he often sought her presence, with the idea of wiping out from her mind the bitter words he had hurled at her in his ungovernable rage. But he found he could not. When he and Jack sat listening to a story from her lips,—for she often drew on her imagination for their amusement,—he would catch her eye, and know that she remembered.

As time went on, he grew to daily respect her more and more. He saw how she brightened the once dull house; he noticed how his father was happy when she was near; and he began to understand the tender affection with which Jack regarded her. He had not troubled as to what she had thought of him; he had not cared whether she loved him or not; but now slowly there was creeping into his heart a desire to obliterate any bad impression he might have made upon her.

Mrs. Barton's quiet influence for good was, felt at The Nest too. Miss Selina had no faults to find with the management of the new mistress at the Hall; Miss Penelope soon ceased to begrudge her the personal charms she had at first refused to admit, and even went so far as to acknowledge her "nice-looking."

Much to Theodore's astonishment, he found Jane upholding Mrs. Barton's authority, and quoting her opinions on different matters; the truth being that Jane was beginning to find her young master rather beyond her powers of control, and was really glad to have someone to whom she could go for assistance, or advice. Theodore managed to keep out of Tom Blake's way for many weeks, but one morning during the August holidays he met him close to the entrance to the Hall grounds. Theodore nodded, not meaning to stop, but Tom paused, and then, of course, Theodore had to do the same.

"Good morning, Master Theodore!"

"Good morning, Tom!"

"You didn't keep your promise about the fishing," was Tom's next remark, with a sly wink.

"No. I was very sorry. I would have let you know if I could. I didn't mean to break my promise!"

Tom looked curiously at Theodore's distressed countenance.

"I suppose they stopped you," he said, with a grin. "I guess Mrs. Barton thought you too much of a baby to go out without a nurse, eh?"

"I don't think I care for fishing much," Theodore remarked, with a would-be careless air, and ignoring the sneer conveyed in the other's remark.

Tom laughed in a manner which had an irritating effect upon his listener, and seemed to be vastly amused.

"You don't like fishing much? Oh, indeed! I s'pose you like being made a molly-coddle of like your stepbrother, eh?"

"Jack is not a molly-coddle!" Theodore flashed out indignantly, now thoroughly angry.

"He's well enough, I daresay. Now, look 'ere, see what I've got!"

Tom drew from his pocket a packet of cigarettes, and carefully selecting one, proceeded to light it, whilst the younger boy watched him with somewhat reluctant admiration.

"'Ave one?" Tom asked insinuatingly. "Bought 'em with my own money."

"No, no, thank you."

"Afraid you'll be sick, eh?"

"No. That's not the reason."

"Afraid your stepmother 'll whack you if she finds it out?"

"No, indeed!" Theodore responded, with a laugh at the idea.

"Well, then," the elder boy said persuasively, "try one, it can't 'arm you. Let's go and sit down in the shade somewhere."

Theodore rather reluctantly followed Tom into the lower meadow, where now stood a large hay-rick, in the shadow of which the boys seated themselves. Now, no one had ever told Theodore not to smoke; but all the same he had an idea that neither his father nor his stepmother would like him to do so. Yet when he watched Tom puffing away, and apparently thoroughly enjoying his cigarette, he told himself there really could be no possible harm in his trying one, just to see what it was like. So he allowed himself to be persuaded; and, after much coughing, because the smoke would go down his throat, and up the back of his nose, he succeeded in getting through one cigarette.

Then Tom suddenly remembered that his father would be wanting him, and made his way home, chuckling to himself as he went, whilst Theodore slowly rose to his feet, and turned towards the Hall.

But how queer he felt,—so sick, and everything seemed to be spinning round. He never quite remembered how he crawled home, but when at length he staggered into the nursery, Jane uttered an exclamation of dismay, and Jack gave a shrill scream of fright at the sight of his ghastly face.

"Oh, Master Theodore, my darling; what is it?" Jane cried, as she rang the bell violently, and caught the boy as he staggered, and would have fallen.

"I am very ill, Jane," he moaned; "very ill!"

In a few minutes nearly everyone in the house had rushed to the nursery, the servants with frightened faces, Mrs. Barton pale and trembling, and her husband no less alarmed. Jane held the boy in her arms, calling him by every endearing name she could think of, until Mr. Barton took him from her, and laid him on a sofa.

Theodore looked, as he said, very ill; but as his father leaned over him a sudden suspicion made him ask:

"What have you been doing, Theodore?"

"Doing?" Theodore repeated faintly, looking round on the assembled faces. "Doing? Nothing—only—smoking."

There was a moment's dead silence. Then Theodore saw the sympathy on the servants' faces give way to ill-suppressed amusement; and his father remarked, in decidedly relieved accents:

"So you've been smoking, have you? And you feel very ill? I can quite believe it. Don't be frightened, you are not so bad as you fancy, and you'll be better soon. Cheer up, Jack! There's nothing to be alarmed about. I think, Theodore, bed is the best place for you."

So saying, Mr. Barton turned away, and went downstairs.

The faithful Jane, much relieved as to the cause of her darling's illness, and, assisted by Mrs. Barton, soon had Theodore tucked up in bed, where he lay very sick, and suffering badly in his head for some hours.

At last he fell asleep, so that he never heard the stir and commotion that was going on in the house, for his sleep was deep and heavy; and when he awoke he thought it must be tea-time, he was so very hungry.

Then he remembered all that had taken place, the look of mingled relief and anger on his father's face when he had confessed he had been smoking, his stepmother's evident amazement, and the amused countenances of the servants. His cheeks burned with shame; and he determined to get up at once, and tell his father all about it.

Very slowly, for he felt weak and rather lightheaded, he arose and dressed, and made his way to the nursery. Jack was there alone, so intently and eagerly looking out of the window, that he never noticed his stepbrother till he reached his side.

"Well, Jack," Theodore remarked, rather shamefacedly.

"Oh, Theo, darling, are you better?"

But Theodore did not answer. He stood gazing out of the window with wide-open, horror-stricken eyes; for there, in the lower meadow, was a volume of smoke ascending from the new hay-rick.

"It is on fire," Jack explained. "Isn't it a pity? Nearly every one is there, trying to put the fire out."

"Oh, dear! how did it happen?"

"I don't know. But are you feeling better, Theodore?"

"Oh, yes, yes! I'm all right. Where's Jane?"

"She's downstairs, getting tea ready; all the servants are gone to the lower meadow. Father is there, and I think mother is—"

"Mother is here;" and turning, the boys saw Mrs. Barton standing behind them.

"You must be ready for your tea, Theodore, for you had no dinner," she said. "Are you better?"

"Yes, thank you; but my head aches."

"Ah, yes. I hope you will not be tempted to smoke again; it certainly made you very bad," she said, with a smile that caused Theodore to blush. Then she added more seriously, "You must have known it was wrong to smoke, and whoever gave you tobacco was much to blame."

"It was a cigarette," murmured Theodore; "but I will never touch another!"

Mrs. Barton thought it wisest to let the subject drop for the time, meaning to talk seriously to her little stepson when Jack was not present. The boys watched the burning hay-rick for some minutes in silence, but at last Theodore exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, I must go and see the fire-engine at work!"

"No, my dear, you cannot," Mrs. Barton answered. "Your father said that on no account were you to leave the house."

"I suppose he is very angry," Theodore sighed.

"Never mind," whispered Jack. "At least—I mean you won't smoke again, will you?"

"Never!" was the fervent response, in accents of conviction. "I do wonder, Jack, how the rick caught on fire; it was all right this—"

Theodore paused abruptly, ashamed to acknowledge he had rested in the shade of the hay-rick to smoke that unlucky cigarette.

Meanwhile, the fire-engine from the neighbouring town was playing on the flames; but though there was plenty of water, the efforts of the willing helpers were of little avail, for there was a stiff breeze blowing, which fanned the fire, so that when night fell there was very little hay that was not thoroughly spoiled.

"'Tis a bad job," said old John Bawdon, as he walked back to the Hall by his master's side.

"It is indeed, John, especially as the rick was not insured. I cannot imagine how it caught fire."

The old man looked troubled, and presently burst out:

"You know, sir, I love him dearly! I wouldn't willingly get him into trouble; but I think I ought to speak."

"What do you mean? What do you know?"

"Blake, the blacksmith, has been thrashing his son for smoking by the side of the rick. It seems he was passing along the road, and looking in over the hedge, saw him this very morning."

"The young rascal! You may depend he threw a lighted match unwittingly into some loose hay."

"Yes, sir," uneasily. "But he wasn't alone; Master Theodore was with him."

"Theodore!"

Very black indeed was the frown on Mr. Barton's brow; and seeing it, the old man, with whom Theodore was a prime favourite, was much distressed and agitated.

"Oh, be gentle with him!" he pleaded. "He is very young! I am sure he meant no harm."

"I had told him not to have anything to do with Tom Blake, and yet it seems he wilfully disobeyed me."

"Oh, sir, have patience with him! he's not used to control. Jane, she means well, but she has allowed him to have his own way so long."

"Too long."

Even as he spoke, the father's conscience told him he should have taught his son the lesson of obedience earlier himself.

"I am very glad you have told me this, John," he said. "Have no fear that I will be harsh with the boy. He is wilful and headstrong; I suppose I was the same at his age."

"That you were, sir!"

Mr. Barton laughed, and the old man hastily apologised.

"I beg your pardon, sir, I'm sure; but, you know, I remember when you were just such a little chap as Master Theodore; and sometimes I'm most afraid I forget my manners. But I've the family's welfare at heart, and—"

"You're a faithful soul, John," his master interposed feelingly; "I know that." And having arrived at the Hall, they parted company.

Mr. Barton went straight upstairs to the nursery, where he found his wife and the two boys. It was almost dark, and his footsteps made no sound on the thick carpet, so that for a few minutes he stood in the background, unseen and unheard.

Mrs. Barton sat on a low chair by Jack's sofa. The little invalid's golden head rested on his mother's shoulder; whilst on a stool at her feet sat Theodore, looking up at her with interested eyes.

"And David killed the giant," Mrs. Barton was saying in her dear, sweet voice, "killed him with a sling and a stone."

"A sort of catapult, I suppose?" Theodore queried. "What a first-rate shot David must have been!"

"Yes. You see it is not always the strongest that wins. David was only a lad; but he trusted in God, and God was with him—"

She broke off suddenly as her husband came forward. Theodore turned crimson, and regarded his father with startled eyes.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Mary," Mr. Barton said gently, "but I want a few words with Theodore before he goes to bed. Theodore, come downstairs into the library with me."