Read Ebook: Essays on the Stage Preface to the Campaigners (1689) and Preface to the Translation of Bossuet's Maxims and Reflections on Plays (1699) by D Urfey Thomas Krutch Joseph Wood Commentator

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"Not I, indeed. His father hasn't thought it worth while to mention the subject to him, and why should I? They are coming home to-morrow, as you know, and intend bringing her child with them. He has been staying with his mother's friends. Oh! we shall have fine changes at Afton Hall! But I'll see that Master Theodore's nose isn't put out of joint! The precious lamb!"

"Now, Jane, don't you try to set Master Theodore against the new mistress, there's a good soul. It may all turn out for the best; maybe it's the Lord's doing."

"Set him against the new mistress!" cried Jane, indignantly. "As if I'd dream of doing such a thing! Well, John Bawdon, you must have a mean opinion of me, indeed!"

"No, I haven't, Jane. But I know how you love the little master, and how you loved his mother; and I think maybe it seems hard to see another in her place. Well, well, I can't say I haven't felt like that too. You're afraid Master Theodore will be worse off than ever now, I suppose?"

The woman nodded, and answered angrily with flashing eyes: "His father don't care for him as he ought, though he is his heir, and such a fine, handsome, little lad. And now, with this strange woman and her child here, he'll care less!"

"No, no! The children will be friends, you'll see; they're near of an age, I hear. It may be the best thing for Master Theodore, his father marrying again."

"Well, John, you always try to look on the bright side of everything; I'll say that much in your favour," Jane remarked, a pleasant smile chasing the gloom from her face.

"It's the Christian way to look at things, at any rate," the old man responded, gravely.

"So it is; you're right, so it is. Hope is a Christian virtue, they say. Come, Master Theodore, come, my dear, it's near dinner-time, and you must come in."

The child bounded to her side. She took him by the hand, and stood looking down into his upturned face, as she asked--"Master Theodore, how would you like to have a brother?"

"A brother!" echoed the child, in surprise.

"Yes. She--Mrs. Barton--your father's new wife, has a little boy about your age."

"Will he come here?" Theodore asked quickly.

"Yes, certainly he will."

"But this is not his home!"

"No, my dear, of course it's not. It's your home, Master Theodore, and no one shall interfere with you, I promise that. There," soothingly, "don't get cross. You're Jane's own dear, good boy, her little master, her--"

"Master Theodore," interposed John anxiously, "don't you think you would like a boy to play with? I know you would. Of course Mrs. Barton will bring her little son here; and I expect she'll want you to show him about the place, and be kind to him. He'll be lonesome at first, and a bit shy--"

"Boys are not shy," Theodore said decisively.

"Some are; this one is sure to be among strangers."

"Do you think he will be bigger than me?" asked the child, drawing his slender, graceful form to its full height.

"I don't know, sir."

"I wonder if he will want to fight," musingly.

"Fight!" cried Jane, in horrified accents. "I should think not, indeed! What can you mean, Master Theodore?"

"Tom Blake says boys always fight to see which is the master. I shall not touch the--the strange woman's little boy if he is smaller than me--that would be cowardly. But if he is about my size," with flashing eyes and clenched teeth, "I shall thrash him."

Having delivered this speech, Theodore drew his hand away from Jane's clasp, and ran off toward the house. His nurse followed hastily, whilst old John Bawdon gazed after them with troubled eyes.

THEODORE BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH HIS STEPMOTHER AND HER LITTLE SON.

THE following afternoon the inmates of Afton Hall were in a great state of excitement. The servants, headed by Mrs. Hussey, the housekeeper, were ranged in a line in the entrance hall, awaiting the arrival of the travellers.

Suddenly there was a slight commotion heard, and Jane darted downstairs, her face pale with consternation.

"Has any one seen Master Theodore?" she gasped, looking eagerly from one to another of the astonished faces. "I can't find him anywhere. Half an hour ago he was in the nursery, and now he's gone!"

The servants exchanged meaning looks. No one had seen the child. Jane rushed out, calling him loudly; but though she searched every nook of the grounds, and every corner of the stables and outhouses, she could discover no sign of him.

Meanwhile, in an old lumber-room at the very top of the house, Theodore lay carefully concealed under a heap of disused bedding. He felt warm and uncomfortable, for it was a decidedly mild day, to be so covered up.

"Mrs. Barton's son shall not interfere with Master Theodore," she had told Mrs. Hussey the night before in Theodore's bearing; "I shall see to that. No doubt the master will make much of him, as it's her child; but Master Theodore is the heir, and the Hall is his rightful home, while that other will only be here on sufferance."

Theodore recalled the words as he lay listening, and though he did not thoroughly understand their meaning, he felt somehow injured and resentful. Suddenly he heard the sound of carriage wheels, then a tumult of voices, and presently a long silence, broken after what seemed an interminable time by approaching footsteps.

The child held his breath in suspense. The footsteps drew nearer, and then the door opened, and he heard the voices of Jane and Mrs. Hussey.

"He may be hiding here," Jane remarked, "but I don't think it's likely. Master Theodore, are you anywhere about?"

"Perhaps he's under this heap," Mrs. Hussey replied, and hastily turning over the bedding, she discovered Theodore.

"Oh, you naughty, naughty boy!" Jane cried, as, pouncing upon him, she dragged him to his feet. "Your father's come, and his wife, and the child. Master's that angry with you for not being there to greet him! I hardly dared tell him we couldn't find you! You must come down at once."

"What is the strange woman like?" Theodore demanded. "And how big is the little boy?"

"Come and see for yourself, Master Theodore," Mrs. Hussey said kindly. "They are having tea in the west parlour. You may as well get the meeting over at once."

Theodore suffered himself to be led downstairs unresistingly, but outside the door his heart failed him, and he drew back.

"Oh, I cannot! I cannot!" he gasped, shrinking against his nurse.

Jane looked alarmed, fearing a scene. She hastily stooped down and kissed him, then knocked at the door, and opening it, pushed him in.

"Master Theodore, sir," she announced, and quickly withdrew.

The west parlour was one of the pleasantest rooms in the house. To-day a bright fire burned in the grate, whilst the air was sweet with the scent of spring flowers, that had been gathered and arranged in large, old-fashioned china bowls on the table and mantlepiece. Old John Bawdon had plucked his choicest blooms in honour of his master and his wife.

Theodore saw his father standing at the window, a tall, rather severe-looking man. He turned at his son's entrance, and addressed him somewhat sharply: "Where have you been, Theodore?"

"In the lumber-room, father."

The child was one who never quibbled or prevaricated, being innately truthful.

"What were you doing there? I should not have thought there was much attraction in a lumber-room."

Theodore raised his eyes to his father's face, and hesitated, but only for a moment.

"I was hiding," he said slowly.

"I suppose you were shy," Mr. Barton remarked, his grave face relaxing into a smile, as he shook hands with his son, and then continued, "Now, I want to introduce you to my wife. Mary, this is Theodore. Theodore, here is a lady who is very anxious to know you; and if you are good--"

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