Unknown

A fortnight had now nearly elapsed, and the affair began, in some measure, to wear off. Indeed, it was seldom mentioned, except by those boys who appeared, from the commencement, so desirous of obtaining a verdict against Henry. His school-fellows, generally, were anxious to play with him, and endeavoured to rouse his spirits by every means in their power. They never commenced a new game, but he was solicited to join them; and they never went for a walk, but he was anxiously requested to accompany them. All their endeavours however, were fruitless: they could not make him what he was before this charge was brought against him. He evidently had something preying upon his mind; for instead of being one of the most lively boys in the school—one who had hitherto shown a desire to join in any good-natured frolic—he was now become quite serious, and even melancholy. In vain did his friend George use every exertion: he who before could have persuaded him to any thing, and to whose advice he had always paid a great regard, now entreated him, in vain, to cheer his drooping spirits. Mrs. Harris, with her two daughters, also endeavoured to laugh him out of what they called his sulky mood; but he replied, that he could not help it; that he should never again be happy till it was discovered who it was that stole Scott's money; and that its being lost while he was his bed-fellow, certainly threw a suspicion upon him that he could not get over, and to labour under which made him truly miserable.

Dr. Harris felt a great deal of uneasiness about the matter, not merely because he saw Henry labouring under so serious a charge, but that an affair of such a nature should remain so long undetected, and that he should hitherto have been foiled in his attempts to clear up the mystery. In this state he continued, when, one morning, after he had returned from his usual early walk, and was crossing the lawn that led from the school to the parsonage-house, he observed a poor woman, rather shabbily dressed, looking in at the school-room window. Not appearing to find the object of her search, she was turning towards the house, when she encountered the person of the Doctor.

"Who are you looking for, good woman?" asked he.

"I—I want," apparently somewhat disturbed by meeting the master, "I want to see one of the little boys, Sir," she said, curtsying very low.

"What little boy do you want? and what do you want him for?"

"I don't know his name, Sir; but he wears a short blue jacket and nankeen trowsers, and a white hat, Sir. He has black hair, and he is a very handsome boy, Sir."

"Is his name Henry," said Dr. Harris.

"I think that was the name the other lad called him by, Sir; for there was another fresh-coloured little gentleman came to the cottage with him."

"What did they come to your cottage about, my good woman?"

"Oh, Sir, I and my poor dear sick husband ought to be very thankful for the help they gave us. And I now want to see them, to thank them for their goodness, and to tell them that my husband will, by God's mercy, be able to go to work very soon. That's all I wanted, Sir," she said, again curtsying, though with some degree of alarm; for she feared that her peeping about for the boys might have offended Dr. Harris.

"What did they do for your sick husband then?" asked Dr. Harris. "I do not think they had the power of rendering you much assistance."

"Oh yes, Sir, they had," she replied: "Master Henry gave us, altogether, sixteen shillings. And I am sure, that if he had not helped us, we should all have been starved. But the Lord is always very good, and sends something to those who are in want."

At this recital Dr. Harris felt amazed; and the circumstance of Scott's money being lost, immediately recurred to his memory. "It must be so," he said to himself: "these boys, anxious to do a service to this poor family, have taken Scott's money from his box, where I suppose they thought it was lying useless, and appropriated it to relieving their wants.—Step in doors, my good woman," he said, as he hastened across the lawn: "step in: I wish to ask you a few questions."

Martha Watson, (for that was the name of this poor woman) now repented having come to the school at all, as she feared, from the anxiety in Dr. Harris's face, that the boys might get scolded for coming to the cottage without leave of their master; and she followed him to the house with a faltering step.

The servant having opened the door, Dr. Harris led the way into a little room, which was his study, and desired Martha Watson to enter, when he closed the door, and they both sat down. "Where do you live, pray?" asked the Doctor.

"In one of those poor cottages, Sir, in the lane that leads on to the common."

"You say these boys gave you sixteen shillings: I wish you would tell me what it was that first induced them to come to your cottage, and every thing you know about them."

Martha Watson now felt very uneasy, and anxiously asked whether they had done any thing wrong, which she the more feared, as she had not seen them for some time past. Dr. Harris begged of her to answer his question, and assured her that there was no cause for her alarm.

She then related to him the following circumstance: "About a month ago, Sir, as my little son Jack, who is about six years old, was coming from Farmer Miles's, with a pitcher full of milk, and making all the haste he could to get home with it for his daddy's supper, these two young gentlemen were hastening off the common, and in their hurry to turn the corner of the lane, they did not see little Jack, but ran against him. So, Sir, they ran so violently, that they knocked him down, spilled the milk, broke the pitcher into a hundred pieces, and cut poor Jack's arm, which bled very much indeed."

"They did not do him a very serious injury, I hope," said the Doctor.

"No, Sir; only cut his arm a little. Finding, however, that Jack was afraid to go home alone, they came with him to our cottage, when they told me the whole affair, and said how sorry they were they had spilt the milk and broke the pitcher; and did all they could to pacify little Jack. When they found how poor we were, and saw my dear husband sick in bed, they asked me many questions: how long he had been ill, what money we had, and many others; and when I told them that he had kept his bed for five weeks, and was not then able to get up; and that we had no money, but the little I and my eldest girl could earn in the fields, they talked together a little while, and the young gentleman in the white hat said, that he would see me again in about an hour, and pay me for the pitcher and the milk, and give me something for my husband."

Henry & George visiting the poor Cottager. See page 56

"Did they return then in about an hour?" said Dr. Harris.

"No, Sir; they did not call again till next morning, when they asked me whether my poor husband was better, and how Jack's arm was. One of them pulled out of his pocket a guinea, and——"

"A guinea!" exclaimed Dr. Harris, interrupting the woman: "are you positive it was a guinea?"

"I am sure it was a golden coin, Sir; because they asked me to change it. But that was impossible, for I had no money at all in the house."

"Well, my good woman, and what did they do then?" asked Dr. Harris, evidently much agitated.

"Why, Sir, finding I had no money, they went into the town and got the golden coin changed, and gave me ten shillings of it. In a few days, Sir, they came again, and gave me six more shillings."

"Did they ever call after that time?"

"Once, Sir, which was about ten days ago; and as I have not seen them since, I made free to call here this morning; because I am sure they would be glad to hear that my poor dear husband was getting better, and would soon be able to work. If the young gentlemen had not been so kind to us, I don't know what we should have done. I am afraid my poor husband must have died for want of proper things. But the Lord will reward them for their kindness; and I am sure they are good boys."

Dr. Harris congratulated the cottager upon the restoration of her husband to health, and said that Mrs. Harris should visit her family; and that he would also tell Henry and George that she had called to thank them; but that it was not convenient for her to see them just then. Having again asked her where she resided, he bade her good morning, and she immediately returned home.

When Martha Watson had gone, Dr. Harris joined his family at the breakfast-table, and related the whole of the affair to them, adding his conviction of Henry's guilt, and that he was sorry to find he had been so deceived by him. George too, he said, was equally guilty; for he had been a party in giving away the stolen property. "I shall write to their parents this evening," he added; "for I am at a loss to know how to punish such duplicity and wickedness."

Mrs. Harris and her daughters, although staggered by the statement which the Doctor had made to them, suggested the propriety of calling in Henry and George. "For," said Mrs. Andrews, "although it looks very suspicious, I never can believe them guilty until it is plainly proved."

"I think this is sufficient proof," he said, rather angrily; for he felt vexed to think of the trouble this affair would give to their parents.

"True; so it is, my dear," answered his wife, "if not contradicted; but I hope that they will be able to give such an explanation as will be satisfactory to us all."

"And that I am sure they will," said Eliza, rising from her chair; "and pray, papa, let me call them in."

The servant at this moment entered the room to take away the breakfast-things, when Dr. Harris desired her to send in Master Wardour and Master Harrington.

The boys had but just taken their seats in the school-room, when the servant summoned them into the parlour. Henry, who still continued in the same desponding mood, felt gratified by hearing that he was wanted there; but it was only a momentary pleasure. He at first thought he might be wanted to accompany Eliza and Juliana to the garden, or be commissioned by Mrs. Harris to go into the town for her; but when he found that George was also wanted, and that they were to go together, he felt convinced of some fresh trouble; for he was not the same cheerful boy he used to be. Fear seemed to have taken possession of his whole frame; when George, thinking he observed a tear starting in his eye, grasped his hand with the warmth of sincere friendship, and cheered him up by saying, "Now for it, Henry: it is all settled, and we are wanted to hear the good news;" and they went, hand in hand, into the parlour.

After making their obedience, they walked up to the table; and Dr. Harris, with a look somewhat more stern than usual, said, "Henry, do you know a woman named Martha Watson, who lives near the common?"

"Yes, Sir," said George, "I know her: a very poor woman."

"I asked Henry," said Dr. Harris; "and I expect that he will answer me."

But poor Henry, from some cause or other, was, at the moment, unable to reply. George, therefore, seeing his friend at a loss, immediately gave the answer; and Henry, recovering his self-possession, now gave a direct answer to every question that the worthy master put to him, and proceeded to explain how they became possessed of so much money. "George and I," he said, "were one day walking through the town, when we met a gentleman on horseback, who had lately seen our parents in London. He told us that he was going to call upon us at the school; but as he had met us, that would do as well. He then gave us a new coin, which is called a sovereign; and after staying with us about a quarter of an hour, he shook hands with us, and rode off."

"And the same evening," added George, "we had the misfortune to run over little Jack Watson, and break his pitcher. We then thought it our duty to see him safe home, and to pay for the pitcher and milk. When we got to the cottage, we saw the poor man stretched on a wretched straw mattress, where he said he had been above a month; and the tear rolled down his cheek when he looked round the room, and saw five little children, who were all anxiously waiting for the milk which we had been so unfortunate as to knock out of little Jack's hand. Indeed, Sir," George continued, "we never before saw so much wretchedness; and Henry said, that as we had plenty to eat and drink, and pocket-money besides, we might as well get the new coin changed, and give them some of it, saying, he wished we had more. I agreed to give nearly all my share; and the next morning we went to the cottage, and gave most of the money to the poor people."

"But why did you not tell me or Mrs. Harris of this distressed cottager, and also that you had had so much money given to you, Henry?"

"Because, Sir, you had given strict orders that no boy should enter a place of sickness, for fear of bringing away a fever. We should not have gone there; but we had hurt poor Jack, and he was afraid to go home, after having lost all the milk. He said his mother would not believe him, if he told her that some one had broken the pitcher."

The plain and unassuming manner in which the boys told their tale, threw an unusual cheerfulness round the whole family. Dr. Harris felt himself satisfied with the account which they had given; while Mrs. Harris and her daughters were overjoyed to find that the boys could give an explanation so very creditable to their feelings. "It is not," said the lady, when the boys had left the room, "because my belief in their ability to give an explanation is confirmed, that I feel this satisfaction; but that they should have shown themselves so susceptible of the finest feelings of our nature. That they should have pitied and relieved the wants of their suffering fellow-creatures; and that, too, without ostentation or parade, convinces me, at once, that neither of them would be guilty of the charge made against Henry. And I sincerely wish that some light may be speedily thrown upon this unpleasant and mysterious affair, or I shall have great cause to fear the consequences with regard to his health."

Dr. Harris then left the table for the school-room, heartily concurring in every word that his amiable lady had uttered. Upon entering, he found the boys in deep consultation; for, immediately upon the return of Edward and George, they were questioned by their school-fellows as to the result of so long an interview. George, who would, from modesty, have readily refrained from stating a circumstance so creditable to himself, as well as to his friend, had he not feared a wrong construction would have been put upon his silence, immediately related the whole of what had passed in the parlour. The majority of the boys felt a little disappointed that nothing more conclusive had transpired; not perceiving, that boys who were capable of giving away their money in the manner that Henry and George had done, were unlikely to rob another of the little he possessed.

Greene and a few others, however, with a malignity that spoke an interested motive, did not fail to turn this statement into ridicule. Greene in particular, who had displayed great anxiety and uneasiness during the absence of Henry and George, at the conclusion of the tale which the boys had requested George to relate, burst into loud and excessive laughter, and exclaimed, "This is one of the finest tales I ever heard. Is it likely, in the first place, that any gentleman would give them a sovereign? Did any of you ever receive so much at one time; and that, too, from a poor traveller? And is it likely that, if they had had it given to them, as they wish us to believe, that they would have parted with it in the manner they say they have? It is all a made-up story. I don't know where Scott's money is; but I think, if it has been given to the poor cottagers, he ought to have the credit of it."

Several of the boys then joined him in the loud laugh with which he concluded this base insinuation. Poor Henry was again driven back into his low-spiritedness, and gave, first a look of contempt at Greene, and then cast his eyes upon George, as his only refuge and support against this fresh and unexpected attack. It is difficult to say how Greene would have fared, had not Dr. Harris at this moment entered the school; for George was never more indignant, nor never felt a greater inclination to tell Greene what he thought of his cowardly conduct, than he did at this moment. Little Ned, however, did not fail to whisper in his ear as he passed, that which was at all times an unwelcome sound: "Who stole the cakes?" said he, loud enough for the rest of the boys to hear. Greene looked vexed, and went to his seat.

Some time passed away, and nothing transpired to clear up this mysterious affair; while the few enemies that Henry had in the school appeared to increase, from the construction which Greene and some others had put upon George's explanation concerning the money. Henry, unable to bear up against the stigma, not only grew melancholy, but began to lose his appetite, and looked very thin and ill. Mrs. Harris really felt somewhat alarmed, and said every thing she could to comfort him; but, alas! it was all in vain. Scott also, to do him justice, did every thing in his power to relieve him, but without avail; and Henry began to think he should fall a victim to a false accusation, for he had no sleep by night, nor ease by day.

Dr. Harris now proposed to send for his father, which he did; and he arrived in a few days. Dr. H. made him acquainted with the whole affair, from first to last; and Henry was sent for into the parlour. His father was shocked at his appearing in such ill health, and the agony of his feelings was intense at the cause of his illness. He entreated him, by the love he bore towards him and his mother, to confess the truth. "If, my dear boy," he said, "you have, in an unguarded moment, been led into an error, the only reparation is openly to confess it. In that case I will pay the boy the money, and you shall receive my forgiveness."

Henry assured him that he knew nothing at all of the money—that it made him very unhappy indeed—that he had had no sleep for the last three or four nights—and that he had lost his appetite; when, throwing his arms round his father's neck, he burst into an agony of tears, and could only exclaim, "I am innocent! I am innocent!"

Mrs. Harris having pacified Henry, said that it would perhaps be best for Mr. Wardour to take him home for a short time; but to this Henry himself objected, as he knew very well that there were boys who would turn that to his disadvantage. His father, therefore, procured him some medicine, to calm his spirits and allay the slight fever which he appeared to have; and then went to transact some business at a short distance from the village, promising to see him again in a few days, and determining, in his own mind, to take Henry home with him, should nothing transpire in the mean time to free him from this accusation.