Read Ebook: Wikkey A Scrap by Vaders Henrietta

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Ebook has 213 lines and 13855 words, and 5 pages

"No--no thank you; not just at present. I'll think about it;" and the doctor took his leave, wondering whether it could be possible that Mr. Granby intended to keep the boy; he was not much used to such Quixotic proceedings.

Lawrence stood debating with himself.

"Should he send Wikkey to the workhouse? What should he do with a boy dying in the house? How should he decide?" Certainly not by going back to meet those wistful eyes.

The decision must be made before seeing the boy again, or, as the soft-hearted fellow well knew, it would be all up with his common sense. Calling Mrs. Evans, therefore, he bade her tell Wikkey that he would come back presently; and then he said, timidly:

"Should you mind it very much, nurse, if I were to keep the boy here? The doctor says he is dying, so that it would not be for long, and I would take all the trouble I could off your hands. I have not made up my mind about it yet, but of course I could not decide upon anything without first consulting you."

The answer, though a little stiff, was more encouraging than might have been expected from the icy severity of Mrs. Evans' manner.

"If it's your wish, Mr. Lawrence, I'm not the one to turn out a homeless boy. It's not quite what I'm accustomed to, but he seems a quiet lad enough--poor child!" the words came out in a softer tone; "and as you say, sir, it can't be for long."

Much relieved, Lawrence sped away; it was still early, and there would be time to get this matter settled before he went down to the office if he looked sharp; and so sharp did he look that in a little more than ten minutes he had cleared the mile which lay between his lodgings and that of his cousin Reginald Trevor, senior curate of S. Bridget's East, and had burst in just as the latter was sitting down to his breakfast after morning service. And then Lawrence told his story, his voice shaking a little as he spoke of Wikkey's strange devotion to himself, and of the weary watch which had no doubt helped on the disease which was killing him, and he wound up with--

"And now, Reg, what is a fellow to do? I suppose I'm a fool, but I can't send the little chap away!"

The curate's voice was a little husky too.

"If that is folly, commend me to a fool," he said: and then, after some moments of silent thought--"I don't see why you should not keep the boy, Lawrence; you have no one to think of except yourself, unless, indeed, Mrs. Evans--"

"Oh, she's all right!" broke in his cousin; "I believe she has taken a fancy to Wikkey."

"Then I do not see why you should not take your own way in the matter, provided always that the boy's belongings do not stand in the way. You must consider that, Lawrence; you may be bringing a swarm about you, and Wikkey's relations may not prove as disinterested as himself."

"But that is just the beauty of it; he hasn't any belongings, for I asked him; beyond paying a shilling for a bed to some hag he calls Skimmidge, he seems to have no tie to any living creature."

"That being so," said Reginald, slowly; "and if you do not feel alarmed about your spoons, I don't see why you should not make the little soul happy, and"--he added with a smile--"get a blessing too, old fellow, though I doubt you will bring a sad time on yourself, Lawrence."

Lawrence gave a sort of self-pitying little shrug, but did not look daunted, and his cousin went on--

"Meanwhile, I think the hag ought to be made aware of your intentions; she will be looking out for her rent."

"Bother! I forgot all about that," exclaimed Lawrence, "and I haven't a minute to spare; I must race back to set the boy's mind at rest, and its close upon nine now. What's to be done?"

"Look here, I'll come back with you now, and if you can get me Mrs. Skimmidge's address I'll go and settle matters with her and glean any information I can about the boy: she may possibly be more communicative to me than to you. I know the sort, you see."

As Lawrence encountered Wikkey's penetrating gaze, he felt glad that his mind was made up; and when the question came in a low, gasping voice, "I say, guvner, are you going to send me away?" he sat down on the end of the sofa and answered:

"No, Wikkey, you are going to stay with me."

"Always?"

Lawrence hesitated, not knowing quite what to say.

"Always is a long time off; we needn't think about that; you are going to stay with me now;" and then feeling some compensation necessary for the weakness of his conduct, he added very gravely, "that is, Wikkey, if you promise to be a good boy and to mind what I and Mrs. Evans say to you, and always to speak the truth."

"I'll be as good as ever I know how," said Wikkey, meekly; "and I reckon I sha'n't have much call to tell lies. Yes, I'll be good, guvner, if you let me stop;" and again the black eyes were raised to his in dog-like appeal, and fixed on his face with such intensity that Lawrence felt almost embarrassed, and glad to escape after eliciting the "hag's" address, and promising to return in the evening.

"I will look in this evening and tell you what I have done," Reginald said, as they went out together; "and also to get a peep at Wikkey, about whom I am not a little curious."

"Yes, do, Reg; I shall want some help, you know, for I suppose I've got a young heathen to deal with, and if he's going to die and all that, one must teach him something, and I'm sure I can't do it."

Lawrence reddened, and gave a short laugh, saying--

"I'm not so sure of that;" and the two men went on their respective ways.

The "hag" began by taking up the offensive line, uttering dark threats as to "police" and "rascals as made off without paying what they owed." Then she assumed the defensive, "lone widows as has to get their living and must look sharp after their honest earnings;" and finally became pathetic over the "motherless boy" on whom she had seemingly lavished an almost parental affection; but she could give no account of Wikkey's antecedents beyond the fact that his mother had died there some years since, the only trace remaining of her being an old Bible, which Mrs. Skimmidge made a great merit of not having sold when she had been forced to take what "bits of things" were left by the dead woman in payment of back rent, omitting to mention that no one had been anxious to purchase it. Yes, she would part with it to his reverence for the sum of two shillings; and Mr. Trevor, after settling with Mrs. Skimmidge, pocketed the Book, on the fly-leaf of which was the inscription--

Wilkins! might that not account for Wikkey's odd name? Wilkins, Wilky, Wikkey; it did not seem unlikely.

That evening, Reginald, entering his cousin's sitting-room, found Lawrence leaning back in his arm-chair on one side of the fire, and on the other his strange little guest lying propped up on the sofa, which had been drawn up within reach of the glow.

"Well," he said, "so this is Wikkey; how are you getting on, Wikkey?"

The black eyes scanned his face narrowly for a moment, and then a high weak voice said in a tone of great disapprobation:

Evidently, the fair, almost fragile face which possessed such attraction for Lawrence in his strength had none for the weakly boy; possibly he had seen too many pale, delicate faces to care much about them.

But Lawrence, unreasonably nettled, broke out hotly--

"Wikkey, you mustn't talk like that!" while the curate laughed and said:

"All right, Wikkey, stick to Mr. Granby; but I hope you and I will be good friends yet;" then drawing another chair up to the fire he began to talk to his cousin.

Presently the high voice spoke again--

"Why mustn't I, guvner?"

"Why mustn't you what?"

"Because it's not civil. Mr. Trevor is my friend, and I am very fond of him."

"Must I like everythink as you like?"

"Yes, of course," said Lawrence, rather amused.

"Then I will, guvner--but it's a rum start."

He lay still after that, while the two men talked, but Reginald noted how the boy's eyes were scarcely ever moved from Lawrence's face. As he took leave of his cousin in the hall, he said--

"You will do more for him just now than I could, Lawrence; you will have to take him in hand."

"But I haven't the faintest notion what to do, Reg. I shall have to come to you and get my lesson up. What am I to begin with?"

"Time will show; let it come naturally. Of course I will give you any help I can, but you will tackle him far better than I could. You have plenty to work upon, for if ever a boy loved with his whole heart and soul, that boy loves you."

"Loves me--yes; but that won't do, you know."

"It will do a great deal; a soul that loves something better than itself is not far off loving the Best. Good night, old fellow."

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