Mary E. Ropes

“ The bread and meat had been eaten, and the first hunger being appeased, Tad had once more fallen into a brown study, out of which he was roused only when the poor little organ lad and his monkey had come quite near, and were casting longing glances upon the dumpling which Tad held—only half folded in paper—in his hand.
The mute language of want is one which the eyes speak very plainly. At least this language is plain enough to those who have suffered from hunger, and Tad knew only too well what it was to be hungry. ”

“ A pale, dark-eyed, sad-faced woman answered the timid knock at the door which Tad gave.
"What would you, my children?" she asked gently. "You look weary and ill. What ails you? Tell me!" And her kind eyes rested with a wondering pity upon Phil, whose thin, patient, white little face appealed to her motherly heart.
"We are starving, madame," said Tad, in the queer French he had picked up during his short stay in France; "and we have not a sou to buy bread. Will you, of your goodness, give us something to eat, that we may have strength to pursue our journey?" ”

“ The children were already asleep in the waggons. A few of the women took out their knitting and worked their long needles rapidly, the bright steel gleaming in the fitful flare of the firelight. The men fed their horses, for there was not grass enough for their food, and went round looking for more wood to feed the fire, or sat in the circle, shaping garden sticks and broom-handles to sell at the fair.
As for Tad and Phil, when there seemed to be nothing further for them to do, they came and joined the cosy party round the fire, seating themselves between kind old Sophie and Pelagie. ”

“ The younger lad caught Tad's arm with a look of fear and horror. "Are you crazy, Tad?" he whispered. "Do you want to be as wicked as he is? After standin' out agen bein' burglars, are we goin' to be common thieves! Think, Tad—only think a moment! You must be well-nigh off your head, dear old boy, to speak of such a thing."
"But we may never have such a chance again, Phil," said Tad.
"Yes, that's true; and so let's clear out, and run away from Foxy. Better starve or die of cold alone and out in the open than live longer with this brute. Come, Tad—come quick, afore he wakes up." ”

“ With their master they spoke the English tongue, and a hard, jaw-breaking, cursed language it is too. One of the boys was little with a pale face, and the other taller, with a big round head like one of thine own pumpkins, Claudine. Ah, let me but catch them, the young monkeys! And in the space of ten minutes, no one should know them for the same children."
To this the woman made no reply that the lads could hear; but they had heard enough to make them look at each other in renewed fear and horror.
"We can't stay here another moment, Phil," whispered Tad. "We must go." ”

“ As he came nearer, he saw that the gleam of colour was the corner of a red bandanna kerchief tied round something, in the form of a bundle. But as the boy—cramped and stiff with lying for twelve hours in damp things—stooped painfully to examine the bundle, the dog leaped past him, and lay down by the rock with his forepaws on the knot of the kerchief. Made bold by hunger, and feeling sure the bundle contained food, Tad laid his hand upon it and tried to lift it, but as he did so, the dog growled and showed his teeth. ”

“ We are quiet people, Monsieur Renard, and we seek no quarrel with any; but another word from you, another threat against us or these children, and at once we give in our information at headquarters at St. Malo. And as for your treatment of the boys—there is a law in France to protect them, and to punish those who sin against them. Look to yourself, you fox by name and fox by nature. Seek not to meddle with these lads, or you may find yourself where you would rather not be. ”

“ After that the troupe moved so far away, that she thought all danger was past."
"Without doubt she was right," said Pierre; "indeed it has proved so, since—but stay—who is that approaching us across the open, from the road?"
"It is a man—a stranger," said Bernadine.
"An old man he looks, by the light of the moon," said Sophie.
"Perhaps he is cold and hungry," suggested old Jacques, Sophie's husband. "If so, he is welcome to a share of our fire and our supper."
But just then Tad glanced in the direction of the newcomer, and gave a smothered gasp.
"Oh look, Phil, look!" he said. ”

“ Ain't there any other thing, if you please, that I ought to do?"
"Yes," shouted Tad, beside himself with passion—"lots of 'em!"
"Shut up, will you?" roared James Poole, bringing his heavy fist down upon the table. "Am I never to have a minute's peace at home?"
"'Tain't my fault, dad," said the boy; "I ain't gone and done nothin'."
"No, everybody knows you never do nothin'," sneered his stepmother. "You're just one of they poor critturs that's put upon all the time by other folks, when you're as innercent as a angel."
Tad got up and pushed his plate away without having touched a mouthful. ”

“ They had told Jacques and Sophie enough of their story to bespeak the sympathy and protection of the good old couple, and to show them that a meeting with Renard, Paul, or Jean might prove dangerous to their freedom, and possibly even to their lives. So the lads were kept to duties within the precincts of the camp; and in the busy, out-of-door life which they led, they lost, after a while, all fear of the evil men, the dread of whose reappearance had hitherto haunted them like evil phantoms. ”

“ Tad was conscious of this, and aware, too, for the first time for years, of a longing now and again to be a better lad, more like pure-hearted, gentle little Phil; for there was growing up in his heart for this friend and fellow-sufferer of his, a great love such as he had not hitherto thought he could feel for anyone.
The truest of all books tells us that even a child is known by his doings, whether they be pure and whether they be right ”

“ I've broke with Phil and with the gipsies; and all for what? To stay here and starve in the streets while maybe the child dies in the hospital, and if he do die, why then good-bye to any home-goin' at all. Just my luck I can't seem to compass nothing at all, I can't."
That night he slept under an old boat which was turned on its side awaiting repairs on the shore, above high-water mark. A more unhappy lad it would have been hard to find under God's great canopy of sky than Tad when he awoke next morning, cold, hungry, with a remorseful conscience and an anxious heart. ”

“ For now the wild green plants were coming up with tender shoots, and none knew better than the gipsy woman which of them lent an appetising flavour to the soup.
"Here, Edouard," said she to Tad, who was loafing about and watching his chance. "Step into Marie's waggon, will you, and look at the child. If he seems restless or uneasy, take him up and rock him gently in your arms till he is quiet. You can stay with him, for I do not need your help here. ”

“ Tad shook his head, but did not reply. He tried, however, to put his troubles out of his mind for the present, and to give his undivided attention to his work, so as to make no more mistakes. He did not reach home that evening until eight, and his father and stepmother were sitting at table. Bert, half undressed, was sobbing in a corner, his face to the wall, and little Nell was wailing in her cot upstairs, having been put to bed supperless for some childish offence.
"Late again, Tad!" exclaimed Mrs. Poole crossly. "Why can't you be home in good time?" ”

“ But tell me, Edouard, where is baby Victor?"
"He is in the hospital, and his life is in danger I fear, dear mother."
"My poor Marie!" sighed the old woman. "She loves Victor so well, and her heart would break were he to die. It will be hard enough anyway to part from him, even if he gets well."
Tad turned in amazement to Phil, who had followed him as he went to meet Mother Sophie. ”

“ But it was dark by the time he reached the little town of Upland Bay—a picturesque place, perched high upon a bold cliff, while, on the inland side, a wide reach of breezy downs and cornfields stretched away for miles, as it seemed to Tad when he peered through the darkness. ”

“ CHAPTER VIII FOXY AND PHIL
THE "Stormy Petrel," as Jeremiah Jackson's vessel was called, remained nearly a week at Granville, discharging her cargo, and loading again with various goods for Southampton.
During these days Tad was in a miserably uncertain state of mind. At one time he would almost resolve to take the good skipper's advice, and go home to face bravely anything that might happen. At another, he shrank from the thought of returning, and felt as though he could far more easily brave any amount of unknown dangers, than go back to the home troubles that he knew so well. ”

“ Tad gulped down a sob.
"I don't deserve it, Phil, and that's the truth," he said humbly; "but if you'll keep on doin' of it, I'll try to deserve it. There! That's a bargain!"
"Let's try and help each other to be good!" said Phil simply. "Mother used to tell me as how, if we chose, we might always have the Lord on our side. And if we did have Him, we was more than a match for any enemy. Do you remember that story in the Bible, Tad, about 'Lisha, when his enemies came and got all round the place where he was? There was chariots and horsemen and a great host—all sent to take that one poor feller. ”

“ All night Tad walked on, but in the morning he got a lift in a light cart that was going in to an early market at Granville. Worn and jaded and utterly disheartened, he and his now slumbering charge were driven into the town.
"The brat is a-goin' to be ill, I do believe," said Tad, peering down into the little flushed face lying against his shoulder. "Just like my luck!"
"Had you not better take him to a doctor?" said the driver of the cart. "There is one living in this street, and he is very kind to the poor; he is sure not to charge you anything." ”

“ Jeremiah Jackson listened attentively, only interrupting the boy's narrative now and again to ask a question, if Tad's hesitating speech did not succeed in making his meaning clear.
But when the lad paused at last, adding only, "That's all, sir," the skipper said:
"So you feel as if you'd been unlucky, do you?"
"Yes, sir," rejoined Tad; "everything's gone agen me from the first; I can't think why."
"Shall I tell you?" asked Jeremiah, a kind, pitying look coming into his blue eyes, and making his big broad face almost beautiful; "it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks." ”

“ And Phil looked and rose instantly to his feet, followed by Tad. The younger boy turned to Sophie.
"Good mother, we thank and bless you for your goodness to us, poor stranger boys," he said, "and we ask of you one more favour. This man who now is coming towards us is a wicked, cruel master, from whom, after sore treatment, we have only just escaped. If he catches us, he will surely kill us. So we must go away at once, and we entreat you, betray us not. ”

“ Thou art never likely to set eyes upon the young miscreants. That greedy old bag-of-bones—Renard, the thief, mountebank, tailor, tinker, and what not—has got the lads, body and soul, and he is not likely to let them out of his sight. ”

“ THE days passed, and Marie returned from her daily visits to the hospital, bringing no better reports.
"But for that long night of exposure to the cold, damp air, baby Victor would never have been so ill," she had said reproachfully to Tad; "and now, through you and your headstrong folly, this precious little life will most likely be lost. You do not deserve to have a brother."
Tad did not resent Marie's hard words. He knew he merited them richly, and he did not attempt to excuse or defend himself. ”

“ You wanted me to go back with you to England, and I'd near made up my mind to it, when old Foxy here come down with Phil Bates, and coaxed me into goin' along of him. And after that, me and my chum was starved and beaten and ill-treated, and at last, roust of all, we—"
"Weel you be quaite, Edouard?" hissed Renard, giving the boy's arm a violent jerk. "If you hold not your peace," he added in a whisper, "I weel keel you."
"I remember you very well, Teddie Poole," said Jeremiah. "So you don't want to return to the man's service, eh?"
"No, sir, no indeed!" cried Tad. "Save me from him! ”

“ But there is no limit to the foolhardiness of self-will, when once it has, like a runaway horse, got the bit between its teeth; and so was it now with poor Tad's besetting sin.
As evening approached, circumstances favoured the lad's design, for Phil was called by one of the men to accompany him to a neighbouring hamlet with baskets to sell, and Pelagie occupied herself with preparing supper contained in the usual big pot, into which she was shredding herbs of many kinds. ”

“ During the time that had gone by since first he meditated flight with the baby, Tad had contrived to scrape together a little money. Now and again, when in the town with Jacques, he had earned a sou or two, holding horses or carrying boxes and parcels from the wharf, or running errands, and the coppers he received Jacques allowed him to keep for himself. So that he had about a franc and twenty-five centimes, as nearly as possible one shilling of our money.
At dinner that day he asked for more bread, and hid a big hunch away in his pocket. ”

“ And that's how it is with us sometimes. We think we're all alone, because we don't see the chariots and horsemen of fire round about us, and we don't understand how much we may be helped, if we will, nor how ready the Lord is to hear and answer if we pray."
"I shouldn't wonder if you was right, Phil," said Tad; "howsumdever there ain't no 'Lisha nowadays, nor no chariots and horsemen of fire to come between old Foxy or Paul and us poor lads—worse luck! And when we can't see nothin', it's hard to believe that help's near. ”

“ What's the use of thinkin' about it?"
"If Marie don't give up the baby here, she could be made to in England," said Phil. "Why don't you write to your dad, as soon as we know when she's goin' back? Tell him she's got the child, and he'll take care of the rest."
"How stoopid you are, Phil! That ain't all I'm after," said Tad crossly. "The baby ain't everything; I want to go back to England myself. If Dad got the baby home, he wouldn't care a straw what became of me; and that old cat of a stepmother of mine would be glad enough if nothin' was never heard of me no more. ”

“ Go in dere!" And Renard pointed a crooked forefinger at the window. "Queek, queek!" added he, as Phil did not stir, "or you weel be sorry." And a threatening look in the man's dark, evil face gave emphasis to his words.
Tad held his breath with a strange, mingled feeling of horror, wonder, and admiration, as he saw his little companion draw himself up, and look straight and unfaltering into Foxy's green eyes. ”