Chapter III: Miss Pringle and Her Lodgers

MISS PRINGLE kept a small baker's shop in Dixtown, and carried on a brisk trade; in fact, she was rather noted for her home-made bread. The appearance of her shop from without did not betoken much business, for the window was small, and had nothing in it but a loaf, a few stale cakes, and half-a-dozen bottles filled with acidulated drops, peppermint and ginger lozenges, toffee, barley-sugar sticks, and bull's-eyes.

Behind the shop was the staircase; then came the kitchen. On the floor above were two good rooms, and a smaller one which went over part of the long passage that ran through the house into the garden.

It was a most productive piece of ground. The air of Dixtown was so mild that all kinds of fruits and vegetables throve, while fuchsias and myrtles flourished out of doors all the winter, and geraniums needed no greenhouse to protect them from frost.

Beyond the kitchen was the bakehouse, where Miss Pringle might be seen every morning at six o'clock kneading her dough, for she was by no means an idle woman; she managed to conduct her business with the help of a boy, who attended to the oven, swept out the shop, and carried bread round to her customers.

Miss Pringle was a tall, thin, spare woman. It was difficult to determine her age. Some said she was fifty, others sixty; but no one ventured to ask the question, "How old are you?" And she was never heard to mention any circumstance which afforded information on the subject.

She made no friends, and rarely invited any of her customers beyond the shop. Not a single inhabitant of Dixtown had ever entered her bedroom; she invariably kept the door locked, and carried the key in her pocket. This circumstance excited no suspicion in the neighbourhood, for she was considered very eccentric, and it was looked upon as part of her eccentricity. The real truth of the matter was this—she was a miser, and secreted her gold up-stairs. When the house-door was closed to customers at nine o'clock in summer, and eight in winter, and the boy sent to his bed under the staircase, Miss Pringle began to enjoy herself. She retired to her bedroom, and, fearing no intruders, counted her money ere she fell asleep.

On the day before we make her acquaintance she had realised the sum of two hundred pounds, which she kept in a stocking within a small wooden box, secured by a padlock. For a long time she moved this box about her room, never being satisfied that she had chosen the safest place for it. During the last few weeks she had adopted a new plan, and placed it inside a bandbox, which she put on the top shelf of a large cupboard that faced the bedroom door.

"That bandbox will not excite attention if any misfortune overtakes me, and I am obliged to let any one in here," she said to herself over and over again by way of encouragement.

Miss Pringle never laughed heartily; she could smile faintly, but that was all. It mattered not what conversation was held, nor what jokes were indulged in, her face ever wore the same unmoved expression. She was civil, attentive, and anxious to please her customers, but, as we have said, she made no friends, nor did she wish for any.

She kept a most parsimonious table. Twice a week she dined off fresh dripping and bread, and three times off bacon and potatoes; while every Sunday she had a small joint of mutton, which served for Monday too.

No boy ever remained with Miss Pringle beyond six mouths. She promised Mrs. Gillies that Tom should have one shilling a week if he stayed half a year in her service, and she was satisfied to make this bargain, for, judging from past experience, no lad pleased her so much as to involve the payment of weekly wages.

Before we tell how Tom Gillies arrived at his first situation, and entered on his new duties, we must speak of the lodger, who, with his only child, occupied the front room over the shop and smaller one over the passage, for which Miss Pringle charged three shillings a week.

His name was Newton. He was a widower, and a great invalid. Every one in Dixtown who knew him treated him with marked respect, even though clothes were shabby and his coat threadbare. There was no mystery about his early history; it was just a simple every-day one of a man who had never been successful, and who had no good friend to advance his interests.

Mr. Newton lost his wife at the birth of his daughter Annie, and about the same time his health, which was before so good, declined, and he had to contend with disease and pain. He was not quite penniless when he came to Dixtown two years before our story opens, and selected it as a place of residence because he had a letter of introduction to a gentleman there, and was ordered by the hospital doctor to live in a sheltered spot by the sea. He never presented his letter, for his ailments did not admit of his undertaking regular work.

Soon after Mr. Newton and his daughter, who had just completed her fourteenth year, were established in their lodgings, an idea struck him, and one which he hoped, if carried out, would afford him a means of subsistence. He was a conchologist, and had studied that branch of natural history for his own amusement. Dixtown at low water was rich in shells, so he determined to collect the rarest specimens, and name and arrange them in boxes for sale. In his boyish days, and long before he felt the pressure of care, he had done this for amusement.

It took him some weeks of hard study to master the names of the various specimens of shells he found on the shore, and then he fell seriously ill. Just at this crisis, and when his little hoard of money was exhausted, his only relative in the world died and left him fifty pounds. This sum was a great boon to the poor man, who was no longer haunted by the dread of starvation which must have come but for this timely aid.

Many days passed before Mr. Newton was well enough to resume his search after shells. During this time, his little daughter nursed him tenderly. She was old for her years, and clever too. Her father, who was no mean scholar, carried on her education, and she eagerly learned of him.

"You must be a governess, so be diligent, child," he said.

And Annie was diligent; for she loved her father devotedly, and to please him gave her the purest joy she knew. She was so anxious to lighten his cares, and be of some use, that she tried to understand what shells he required for his collections, and during his illness spent many hours alone in searching after rare specimens.

Mr. Newton was obliged to purchase several expensive books of reference. "It is not money quite lost," he said to his daughter; "you may turn them into shillings hereafter, and I must be competent myself if I am to be an authority for others."

It was a happy day for them when the first box of shells was completed. It was made of card-board, and had a glass lid. Inside were two layers of shells, which were tastefully arranged in trays on pink and white wool. The upper layer contained five trays; in each tray were twenty-four different kinds of shells. The lower layer held the large single shells; the tiniest sorts were gummed on black paper. Annie, who watched her father's operations carefully, so that she might render him assistance when the second box was arranged, was delighted with the success of this first attempt.

So soon as the final touches were put, the question—which had many times been discussed—as to who should sell the boxes, had to be decided.

"Do not ask Miss Pringle," said Annie; "she will be sure to want half the money we get. I have seen a little shop just off the High Street, and a tidy old woman standing at the door; her name is Crampton; let us call on her. It is a good situation for our purpose; the visitors must pass on their way to the fishmarket, the pier, and the south sands."

Dixtown was by no means a large place, and most of the shops were in the Nigh Street. But Annie was right in the reasons she gave, when she suggested that Mother Crampton was the best person to find a market for the boxes.

Mr. Newton had no difficulty in coming to terms with the old dame.

"It's not a good time for selling, sir," she said, hanging up the paper he brought with him that invited visitors to inspect the shells. "We've but few strangers in the town now."

Nevertheless, in four days a purchaser came, who gave the guinea that Mr. Newton asked; and as Mother Crampton was satisfied with one shilling commission, and the materials cost but two, he made a handsome profit on the transaction.

Annie and her father were overjoyed. This success gave them an impetus to go forward. And when a letter came from London ordering two more boxes at the same price, their hearts were full of gratitude.

Before the next season, Mr. Newton had a good stock in hand, which sold so well that he felt satisfied this new business would enable him to live comfortably, though sparingly, and pay his landlady regularly. To be sure, Miss Pringle's apartments were not spacious, but they sufficed for himself and daughter; for Annie occupied the tiny room over the passage, and her father slept on an old sofa in the front room.

Annie was a busy little maiden, and a careful housekeeper. She cooked nicely, and could buy to the best advantage. Her knowledge had come early. Because she was motherless and had an invalid father, she was obliged to forego the pleasures which children of her age love best.

For some months all went smoothly, and then a fresh calamity threatened Mr. Newton. He had felt his eyesight failing since his last severe illness, and had a presentiment he might one day be blind. He could not help dwelling on this fear sometimes. When he was depressed, Annie roused him by her cheerful words, and reminded him that God did not forget them. She and her father were not formal believers, but recognised the wise Hand that overruled all the events of their lives.

The young girl found a true friend in Mother Crampton. On the morning after Mrs. Gillies had informed the kind old lady that her son Tom was going to live with Miss Pringle, she took a large box of shells to her for sale. Her heart was heavy, for her father had said, "Annie, my eyes are so weak to-day, I will lie down and rest them, while you carry the case we finished yesterday to Mother Crampton."

"Do, father," she answered, "and do not be worried. I know most of the shells by name, and can find some of the sorts quite easily. If you can see well enough to make the boxes, we shall get along all right."

But, in spite of her words, she felt an inward chill when she thought, "What will become of us if papa goes blind?"

Annie was a special favourite of Mother Crampton's. "I'm so glad to see you, dear, for I've just sold my last box, and I've an order for another from the same gentleman," she said, as the young girl entered her shop.

"O mother! How pleased I am! My father will be quite happy to hear it. He is very dull to-day, his eyes seem so weak."

"He must see through you, child. He will miss the beautiful scenes in God's world at first, but he won't be blind in that other world. The New Jerusalem will be far grander than this, and yet I'm told by them that have gone to foreign parts, there isn't often a fairer scene to be met with than ours."

"Papa says the view from the cliff, which takes in the beautiful bay and castle-hill, with Norton Island beyond, and dear little St Helen's, is a perfect picture; and he knows something about other lands, for he used to travel when he was young, and has visited many grand cities."

"How is Miss Pringle, Annie?" asked Mother Crampton, turning the conversation abruptly into another channel.

"As well as usual. Why do you ask?"

"Because I hear she is going to have a new boy named Tom Gillies. I've known his mother a long time. I'm afraid he's not very steady. Try and do him good, my dear; his mother doesn't love God, and I pity a boy that hasn't praying parents."

"He will not stay long with Miss Pringle. She has had three boys during the last month," said Annie.

"How do you manage to lodge with her if she's so particular?"

"We pay our rent regularly, and that is all she requires," answered the young girl, smiling. "I think, if papa were to become blind, and we failed in our weekly payments, she would be neither kind nor civil," she added, with a sigh.

"Don't anticipate trouble, my child; have faith in God when the rain falls as well as when the sun shines. He doesn't forget His children. You're growing older every day, and will soon be able to make the boxes alone; and if I can sell them, you can keep the wolf from the door even if your father's eyesight fail. Here's the sovereign I owe you."

Annie left her friend holding the sovereign tightly in one hand. She had no great distance to go before she reached home, scarcely a quarter of a mile. She walked by the side of some iron railings which were placed at the edge of the cliff, and stopped when she came to a gate that led by a narrow pathway down to the sands. Here a seat was placed, and she could not resist sitting down to admire the scene. The beautiful bay lay at her feet; to the north were a range of thickly-wooded cliffs; in the far distance were sloping hills covered with well-cultivated fields, and on the right rose the castle-hill.

"It makes a pretty picture," Annie said aloud.

"It does, dearest."

She turned, and found her father had joined her.

"What news do you bring?" he asked.

"Very good indeed. Here is a sovereign. The box I took to-day is sold too."

"Thank God for that!" answered Mr. Newton. "O Annie! If I could but see clearly, how happy I should be! But the scene grows so misty. Pray for me, that I may be patient if what I dread so much comes to pass."