Chapter XII: Conclusion

"OH, Bobbie, look! Oh, quick! look, look!" Jackie clutched his brother's arm as he spoke, and pointed excitedly after a handsome motor brougham which had just passed them, and was now disappearing around a corner of the street. The boys were on their way home from morning school.

"Oh, you didn't see!" the little boy cried, in a tone of disappointment, "and Stray was looking out of the window, too! Oh, I wonder if he saw us? And Mrs. Winter!"

"You don't mean to say that Mrs. Winter and Stray are in that beautiful motor-car?" cried Bob incredulously. "Haven't you made a mistake, Jackie?"

"Oh, no, I haven't!" Jackie protested. "Oh, I do wish you'd seen them! Where can they be going?"

"Let's hurry home and find out."

Arrived at home they went direct to the kitchen, and questioned Lizzie. The girl was looking pleased and excited.

"Oh, so you met the car!" she said; "it belongs to some grand folks living on Clifton Down, friends of Lady Margaret Browning's."

"The friends she's staying with?" inquired Bob.

Lizzie nodded. "The chauffeur brought a note for Mrs. Winter, and said he was to wait," the explained, "I took the note up to her and waited while she read it. It put her in a bit of a fluster. She told me Lady Margaret Browning wanted her to spend the day with her and bring Stray with her, and the car had been sent to fetch them. So she's gone, and Stray too—looking just as though he'd been used to ride in a car all his life! Now, you may depend something will come of this. Missus will soon be losing her attic lodger, I expect."

"Why should you think that?" asked Bob quickly.

"Never you mind!" replied Lizzie, mysteriously. "If I'm right we all ought to be glad, so don't you begin to pull a long face. Mrs. Winter's been very poor, but I'm beginning to hope she's seen her poorest days. We shall see!"

When the boys met their aunt at dinner they found that she, too, expected to lose her attic lodger before long.

"I shall be sorry when she goes," she remarked, "for she's paid her rent regularly and been kind to you boys. A real good woman she is, and I wish her well."

The shop was closed, and Jackie was in bed and asleep that night before Mrs. Winter and Stray came home. They returned in the motor brougham, and were met by Mrs. Mead in the passage.

"Come into the kitchen and have a warm by the fire before you go upstairs, Mrs. Winter," she said. "I hope you have spent a pleasant day."

"Yes, thank you," Mrs. Winter answered; "a very pleasant day."

She took the chair Mrs. Mead offered her by the fire, whilst Stray went to Bob, who put an arm around his neck and hugged him.

"I've missed you, old chap!" the boy whispered. "Was he good, Mrs. Winter?" he asked.

"As good as gold!" Mrs. Winter replied. "Oh, I've had such a happy time with Lady Margaret and her father!" she continued; "her father came last night to fetch her home. They made so much of me—treated me quite like a friend! If only Miss Peggy had been there, but—oh, God knows best! And Lady Margaret's so like her mother! I told her father so—he liked hearing it. I couldn't think of him as a great nobleman! To me he will always be just Miss Peggy's husband!"

She paused a minute, smiling, then went on—

"Oh, he was wonderfully kind! He had a long talk with me alone, and said he was sorry to hear I was not very well off; and then he offered me a cottage, rent free, on his estate in Somersetshire, and the wherewithal to live there—"

"Oh, dear!" broke in Bob. "Oh, I know I ought to be glad, but—oh, I suppose I'm dreadfully selfish! I don't want you to go away!"

"You'd like to keep me here?" Mrs. Winter asked eagerly. "Oh, my dear!" she exclaimed as he nodded, "how sweet it is to think that!— to know I should be missed if I went!"

"If?" said Mrs. Mead inquiringly. "I suppose there's no doubt about it? Of course you're going?"

Mrs. Winter shook her head.

"No," she said. "No. I told Miss Peggy's husband I was too old to live in a cottage alone, and that I liked to be where other people—especially young people—were about, and that I'd become quite attached to my attic home. I said I wished to remain here, and if he'd be so generous as to help me with a little money, I should have nothing in the world left to wish for. And that's what he's going to do. I've explained all this because you've been so kind, Mrs. Mead—"

"Kind? Me?" interrupted Mrs. Mead in astonishment. "What have I done?"

"Helped me feed Stray for one thing," Mrs. Winter replied, "and let me come here sometimes and warm myself when I've had no fire upstairs for another. I wouldn't wish a better landlady than you."

"And I'm sure I wouldn't wish a better lodger than you!" said Mrs. Mead heartily; "I doubt if you're doing the best for yourself, but I'm very glad you're going to stay on. But a dear little cottage in the country all to yourself! Have you considered—"

"I've considered everything!" Mrs. Winter interposed, her bright, dark eyes shining happily; "and I'm sure I've decided for the best."

Bob said nothing; but he drew a deep sigh of intense relief, and by-and-bye slipped upstairs to tell Jackie, if he should be awake, that there was no fear of Mrs. Winter's going away. But Jackie was sleeping peacefully, so he did not disturb him, and went to bed too.

Both boys were asleep when some while later Mrs. Winter, carrying a lighted candle, opened the door noiselessly and peeped into the room. She tip-toed to the bed, and stood for a minute or two looking tenderly and lovingly at the sleepers, whilst she breathed a hope, which was actually a prayer, that God would permit her to continue to care for them until their father came home.

THE END.