Read Ebook: Whilst father was fighting by Stooke Eleanora H Morrow Albert George Illustrator

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Ebook has 447 lines and 16528 words, and 9 pages

CHAPTER

WHILST FATHER WAS FIGHTING

AFRAID IN THE DARK

"Are you asleep, Jackie?"

Bob Middleton, closed the door of the attic which served as a bedroom for himself and his little five-year-old brother as he spoke, and stepped softly to the bedside.

No, Jackie was not asleep. He had sprung up in bed at the sound of Bob's voice, and now cried chokingly--

"Oh, Bobbie, Bobbie!"

"Why, what is the matter, old chap?" Bob, inquired. The question was needless, for he knew his little brother was crying from fear--fear of being alone in the dark. "I hoped I should find you asleep," he went on without waiting for a reply; "it was an hour ago that Aunt Martha put you to bed, and you promised you'd try to go to sleep right away."

"I did try," was the plaintive answer, followed by the anxious inquiry--"Are you coming to bed now?"

"No," said Bob, "I've only come up for a few minutes. Aunt Martha said I mustn't stay long, for she's several errands for me to do yet." He went to the window--it was low in the sloping roof--and pulled up the blind. "There, now!" he cried, "isn't that better? The moon's like a big lamp in the sky, and the stare are shining ever so brightly."

"I can see them," Jackie said, with a sobbing breath. "I wanted Aunt Martha to pull up the blind, but she wouldn't, and--and she said if I got out of bed she'd give me the stick. I hope she won't whip me again, Bobbie; she does whip so hard."

Bob set his teeth and was silent for a minute. Mrs. Mead, their Aunt Martha, was not always kind to Jackie. She was not always kind to him either, but that he felt did not matter. He and his little brother-- Jackie was five years younger--had been living with Mrs. Mead for ten months, ever since the beginning of the war with Germany, when their father, a reservist, had rejoined the colours. Their previous home had been in a village some miles from Bristol, where their father had been employed on a farm.

Their mother had died when Jackie had been born, so there had been no one but Aunt Martha to take charge of them when the call to arms had taken their father from them. Mrs. Mead, who was a childless widow, kept a greengrocer's shop in a dingy street in Bristol; and, as she took lodgers, she had no room to spare her little nephews but an attic. From the boys' attic, which was at the back of the house, was a view of the river and the backs of the houses on the opposite bank--not a very cheering view for eyes accustomed to pretty wooded scenery.

"Well," Bob said, "I must be going. Don't cry any more, Jackie. There's nothing to be afraid of up here, and it's quite light now I've drawn up the blind. You can lie and watch the moon and stars. I daresay father's watching them too, out in the trenches--"

"Oh, I want father!" Jackie broke in, "I want father!"

Bob wanted his father quite as much as his little brother did; but he owned a brave heart, and, though it was very heavy, he answered cheerfully--

"I daresay he'll be home on leave soon. Here, let me cover you up!"

He tucked the bedclothes around Jackie, then hurried out of the room, leaving the door ajar. As he ran down the steep, narrow stairs he met a little old woman toiling up, followed by an ugly brown dog. He guessed who she was. There were two attics in the house, and the previous day he had heard his aunt remark that she had let the front attic to an old-age pensioner--a Mrs. Winter. No doubt this little old woman was Mrs. Winter.

"There's a dog following you!" he called out, stopping and looking after her.

"Yes," she said, glancing back at him with a smile, "he's my dog. Stray he's called. Oh, dear me, who's that crying?"

"My little brother," Bob replied; "he doesn't like being left alone-- he's afraid."

He hurried on. Mrs. Winter, having reached the top stair, hesitated a minute, then, instead of going into her own attic, walked into the other, Stray at her heels.

Jackie was sitting up in bed, crying loudly. He became suddenly silent when he saw Mrs. Winter.

"Good evening!" she began. "I'm Mrs. Winter. I've come to live in the front attic, and should like to be friends with you and your brother. Now, suppose you tell me your name?"

"Jackie," the little boy answered; "I'm five," he informed her, "and Bob's ten."

Mrs. Winter took a chair by his side. He could see her face plainly in the moonlight. Such a pleasant face it was, although it was old, with bright brown eyes like a bird's and the happiest expression.

"I met your brother on the stairs," Mrs. Winter remarked, "he told me you were afraid because you were left alone. But we're never really alone you know, my dear. Jesus is always with us. Do you know about Jesus, Jackie?"

"Oh, yes," said Jackie; "I go to Sunday school. Jesus is in Heaven."

Mrs. Winter nodded. "Yes, Jesus is in Heaven," she agreed, "and He's here too. He's everywhere. No--" as Jackie glanced around the room-- "we can't see Him; nevertheless He's here, and you can speak to Him whenever you like and be quite sure He'll hear you. Don't you know that when you pray you are talking to Jesus? He loves you, and wants you to love Him. Oh, He is such a good friend to have, Jackie! I wonder, now, if you said your prayers to-night?"

"No," the little boy answered; "I forgot."

"Ah! I'm not surprised you felt lonely and frightened. I tell you what, we'll pray together--just you and me. You can kneel upon the bed, and I'll kneel beside it."

They did so, whilst Mrs. Winter offered up a prayer. It was a very simple prayer, which asked Jesus to watch over Jackie and make him feel His presence so that he might not be afraid, and the little boy quite understood it.

"I like her," he said to himself, after Mrs. Winter had bidden him "good-night" and gone away, accompanied by her dog; "she's a very nice old woman. It was kind of her to come to see me. Oh, I do hope she'll come again!"

THE NEW LODGER

JACKIE quite meant to keep awake till Bob came to bed, but he fell asleep soon after Mrs. Winter had left him. When he awoke the bright morning sunshine was shining into the attic, and Bob was in the midst of dressing. He told him of Mrs. Winter's visit.

"It was kind of her to come," Bob said, pleased because Jackie seemed to be. "Did you like her? Yes? That's all right, then! She's going to pay Aunt Martha two shillings a week for the other attic and 'do for herself'--that means clean her own room and cook her own food. Come, tumble out of bed, Jackie, or you'll be late for breakfast!"

Quarter of an hour later the two boys went downstairs together to the kitchen, where an untidy maid-of-all-work was preparing to cook bacon for breakfast.

"I'll lay the table for you, Lizzie," Bob told her, and set about doing so, Jackie helping him.

In a short while their aunt appeared upon the scene. She was a short, stout woman, with a bustling manner and a nagging tongue.

"Past seven o'clock and breakfast not yet ready!" she began; "you must have been idling, Lizzie, for I called you in good time! Be careful what you're doing, Jackie! There, now, you careless child, you've spilt the milk--and milk such a price, too! Sit down and be quiet, for goodness sake!"

"He's helping me lay the breakfast things," Bob explained, as Mrs. Mead pushed Jackie roughly aside; "it's only a little drop of milk he's spilt, but I'll go without, then it won't matter."

Mrs. Mead made no response. She was a woman of uncertain temper, and this morning she was in an ill-humour because the lodger who rented her best rooms had given her notice yesterday to leave. She let two sets of rooms; but her lodgers did for themselves, like Mrs. Winter, so they were not much trouble to her.

Breakfast was eaten almost in silence; then Bob was sent to open the shop, and at half-past eight the boys started for school. Jackie attended an infant's school not far from home, but Bob had further to go.

When Jackie came out of school at twelve o'clock almost the first person he saw was Mrs. Winter, who was taking her dog for a walk. He stopped and looked at her, thereby attracting her attention. She did not recognise him at first glance, for he looked very different from the little boy with the tear-stained face and tear-blurred eyes she had seen last night. To-day Jackie's face was all smiles, and his eyes were as blue and clear as the summer's sky.

Her second glance, however, told her who he was, and she exclaimed--

"Why, it's Jackie! How do you do, dear? I'm so glad to meet you, and so's Stray. Come here, Stray, and make friends with Jackie!"

Jackie loved dogs, so he patted and made much of Stray; and Stray, who loved to be noticed, was delighted.

"I suppose you're going home now, Jackie?" Mrs. Winter said inquiringly.

"No," the little boy answered, "I'm going to meet Bobbie. You come too!" He slipped his hand into the old woman's as he spoke, and they walked on together, Stray running on ahead.

Jackie was very interested in Stray, and asked many questions about him. He learnt that he was a come-by-chance.

"I found him in the street one wet night, when he was a puppy," Mrs. Winter explained; "he was shivering with cold, and I think he'd have died if I hadn't taken him home with me. Next day I tried to find his owner, but I couldn't, so I kept him. He's about six years old now."

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