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diff --git a/22124-h/22124-h.htm b/22124-h/22124-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3bf5ddf --- /dev/null +++ b/22124-h/22124-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9825 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Golden Shoemaker, by J. W. Keyworth</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + + h1 { text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + font-size: 3em; + } + + h1.pg { text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + font-size: 200%; + } + + h2 { text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 120%; + } + + a { text-decoration: none; } + + .pagenum { visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .gesperrt { letter-spacing: .5em; } + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 75%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Golden Shoemaker, by J. W. Keyworth</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Golden Shoemaker</p> +<p> or 'Cobbler' Horn</p> +<p>Author: J. W. Keyworth</p> +<p>Release Date: July 23, 2007 [eBook #22124]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN SHOEMAKER***</p> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<h3>E-text prepared by Dave Morgan, Anne Storer,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 387px;"> +<img src="images/imgcover.jpg" width="387" height="600" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 362px;"> +<img src="images/img038.jpg" width="362" height="558" alt="Missy" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“‘Come here, missy!’”—<a href="#Page_38"><em>Page 38</em></a>.</span> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<h1>THE GOLDEN<br /> +SHOEMAKER:</h1> + +<h2>or, “Cobbler” Horn.</h2> + +<p> </p><p> </p> + +<p class="center"><strong>BY</strong></p> + +<h2>J.W. KEYWORTH,</h2> + +<p class="center"><em>Author of</em> “<em>Mother Freeman</em>,” “<em>The Churchwarden’s Daughter</em>,” <em>&c.</em>, <em>&c.</em></p> + +<p> </p><p> </p> + +<p class="center">LONDON:</p> + +<p class="center"><strong>J. WILLIAMS BUTCHER,</strong></p> +<p class="center">2 & 3, LUDGATE CIRCUS BUILDINGS, FARRINGDON STREET, E.C.</p> + + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<h2><em>Contents.</em></h2> +<p> </p> +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="14" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='right'><em>Chapter</em></td><td align='center'></td><td align='right'><em>Page</em></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></td><td align='center'>BEREAVED!</td><td align='right'>1</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></td><td align='center'>AUNT JEMIMA</td><td align='right'>8</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></td><td align='center'>HOW MISS JEMIMA MANAGED HER BROTHER’S HOUSE</td><td align='right'>13</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></td><td align='center'>“ME LUN AWAY”</td><td align='right'>19</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></td><td align='center'>“THE LITTLE TWIN BRETHREN”</td><td align='right'>22</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></td><td align='center'>THE FATHER’S QUEST</td><td align='right'>25</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></td><td align='center'>WHAT HAD BECOME OF THE CHILD?</td><td align='right'>36</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></td><td align='center'>THE SHOEMAKER BECOMES “GOLDEN”</td><td align='right'>41</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></td><td align='center'>A STRANGE CLIENT FOR MESSRS. TONGS AND BALL</td><td align='right'>47</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></td><td align='center'>MISS JEMIMA IS VERY MUCH ASTONISHED</td><td align='right'>52</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></td><td align='center'>“COBBLER” HORN ANSWERS HIS LETTERS, AND RECEIVES<br /> + THE CONGRATULATIONS OF HIS FRIENDS</td><td align='right'>58</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></td><td align='center'>“COBBLER” HORN PAYS A VISIT TO HIS LANDLORD</td><td align='right'>65</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></td><td align='center'>FREE COBBLERY</td><td align='right'>72</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></td><td align='center'>“THE GOLDEN SHOEMAKER” WAITS UPON HIS MINISTER</td><td align='right'>76</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></td><td align='center'>“COBBLER” HORN ENGAGES A SECRETARY</td><td align='right'>85</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></td><td align='center'>THE ATTACK ON THE CORRESPONDENCE</td><td align='right'>91</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII.</a></td><td align='center'>A PARTING GIFT FOR “THE LITTLE TWIN BRETHREN”</td><td align='right'>98</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII.</a></td><td align='center'>THE NEW HOUSE</td><td align='right'>105</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX.</a></td><td align='center'>A TALK WITH THE MINISTER ABOUT MONEY</td><td align='right'>110</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX.</a></td><td align='center'>“COBBLER” HORN’S VILLAGE</td><td align='right'>116</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI.</a></td><td align='center'>IN NEED OF REPAIRS</td><td align='right'>123</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII.</a></td><td align='center'>“THE GOLDEN SHOEMAKER” INSTRUCTS HIS LAWYERS</td><td align='right'>129</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII.</a></td><td align='center'>MEMORIES</td><td align='right'>138</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV.</a></td><td align='center'>ON THE OCEAN</td><td align='right'>149</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV.</a></td><td align='center'>COUSIN JACK</td><td align='right'>163</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI.</a></td><td align='center'>HOME AGAIN</td><td align='right'>176</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII.</a></td><td align='center'>COMING INTO COLLISION WITH THE PROPRIETIES</td><td align='right'>184</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII.</a></td><td align='center'>BOUNDER GIVES WARNING</td><td align='right'>193</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX.</a></td><td align='center'>VAGUE SURMISINGS</td><td align='right'>201</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX.</a></td><td align='center'>A NOVEL DIFFICULTY FOR A MAN OF WEALTH</td><td align='right'>207</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI.</a></td><td align='center'>“COBBLER” HORN’S CRITICS</td><td align='right'>217</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII.</a></td><td align='center'>“IN LABOURS MORE ABUNDANT”</td><td align='right'>232</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII.</a></td><td align='center'>TOMMY DUDGEON ON THE WATCH</td><td align='right'>239</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV.</a></td><td align='center'>A “FATHER” AND “MOTHER” FOR THE “HOME”</td><td align='right'>249</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV.</a></td><td align='center'>THE OPENING OF THE “HOME”</td><td align='right'>255</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI.</a></td><td align='center'>TOMMY DUDGEON UNDERTAKES A DELICATE<br /> + ENTERPRISE</td><td align='right'>267</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">XXXVII.</a></td><td align='center'>BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH</td><td align='right'>275</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">XXXVIII.</a></td><td align='center'>A LITTLE SHOE</td><td align='right'>285</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">XXXIX.</a></td><td align='center'>A JOYOUS DISCOVERY</td><td align='right'>293</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">XL.</a></td><td align='center'>TOMMY DUDGEON’S CONTRIBUTION</td><td align='right'>305</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">XLI.</a></td><td align='center'>NO ROOM FOR DOUBT!</td><td align='right'>313</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">XLII.</a></td><td align='center'>FATHER AND DAUGHTER</td><td align='right'>326</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">XLIII.</a></td><td align='center'>THE TRAMP’S CONFESSION</td><td align='right'>339</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 1]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>THE GOLDEN SHOEMAKER.</h1> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> + +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>BEREAVED!</strong></p> + + +<p>In a small house, in a back street, in the large manufacturing town of +Cottonborough, the young wife of “Cobbler” Horn lay dying. It was the +dusk of a wild evening in early winter; and the cruel cough, which could +be heard every now and then, in the lulls of the wind, from the room +upstairs, gave deepening emphasis to the sad fact that the youthful wife +and mother—for such also she was—had fallen a victim to that fell +disease which sweeps away so much of the fair young life of our land.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn himself was engaged just now in the duties of his calling, +in the little workshop behind the kitchen. The house was very small. The +kitchen and workshop were the only rooms downstairs, and<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 2]</span> above them were +three small chambers. The one in which the dying woman lay was over the +workshop, and the sound of her coughing came down with sharp distinctness +through the boarded floor, which was the only ceiling of the lower room.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn knew that the death of his wife was probably a question of +a few hours at most. But he had promised that the boots on which he was at +work should be finished that night; and he had conscientiously withdrawn +from his wife’s bedside that he might keep his word.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was a man of thirty or so. He was tall, and had somewhat +rugged features and clear steadfast eyes. He had crisp black hair, and a +shaven face. His complexion was dark, and his bare arms were almost as +brown as his leathern apron. His firmly set lips and corrugated brow, as +he bent now over his work, declared him to possess unusual power of will. +Indeed a strength of purpose such as belongs to few was required to hold +him to his present task. Meanwhile his chief misgiving was lest the noise +he was compelled to make should distress his dying wife; and it was +touching to see how he strove to modify, to the utmost degree which was +consistent with efficient workmanship, the tapping of the hammer on the +soles of the boots in hand.</p> + +<p>Sorrowing without bitterness, “Cobbler” Horn had no rebellious thoughts. +He did not think himself ill-used, or ask petulantly what he had done that +such trouble should come to him. His case was very sad. Five years ago he +had married a beautiful<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 3]</span> young Christian girl. Twelve months later she had +borne their little dark-eyed daughter Marian. Two years thereafter a baby +boy had come and gone in a day; and, from that time, the mother had +drooped and faded, day by day, until, at length, the end was close at +hand. But “Cobbler” Horn was a Christian, and did not repine.</p> + +<p>His task was finished at last, and, with a sigh of relief, he rose to his +feet. In that moment, he became aware of a tiny figure, standing in the +open doorway of the kitchen. It was that of a little four-year-old girl, +clad in a ruby-coloured dress, which matched to perfection her dark skin +and black hair. Her crimson cheeks were dashed with tears, and she looked +like a damask rose just sprinkled by a shower of rain. The light in her +dark eyes, which glistened with intense excitement beneath her jet-black +hair, indicated that her tears were those of indignation rather than +grief. How long she had been standing there he could not tell; but, as +soon as she saw that her father had finished his work, little Marian—for +she it was—darted forward, and throwing her arms around his neck, with a +sob, let her small dusky head fall upon the polished breast-piece of his +leathern apron.</p> + +<p>“What’s amiss with daddy’s poppet?” asked the father tenderly, as he +clasped the quivering little form more closely to his breast.</p> + +<p>The only answer was a convulsive movement of the little body within his +arms.</p> + +<p>“Come, darling, tell daddy.” Strange strugglings<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 4]</span> continued within the +strong, encircling arms. This little girl of four had as strong a will as +her father; and she was conquering her turbulent emotions, that she might +be able to answer his questions. In a moment she broke away from his +clasp, and, dashing the tears from her eyes with her little brown hands, +stood before him with glowing face and quivering lip.</p> + +<p>“Me ’ant to see mammy!” she cried—the child was unusually slow of speech +for her age. “Dey ’on’t ’et Ma-an do upstairs.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn took the child upon his knee, and gently stroked the small +dusky head.</p> + +<p>“Mammy is very ill, Marian,” he said gently.</p> + +<p>“Me ’ant to see mammy,” was the emphatic response.</p> + +<p>“By and bye, darling,” replied the father huskily.</p> + +<p>“What ’oo going to c’y for, daddy?” demanded the child, looking up hastily +into her father’s face. “Poor daddy!” she continued, stroking his cheek +with her small brown hand, “Isn’t ’oo very well?”</p> + +<p>“I’m not going to cry, darling,” said the father, bowing his head over his +child, and taking into his strong hand the little fingers which still +rested against his face. “You don’t understand, my poor child!”</p> + +<p>There followed a brief pause.</p> + +<p>“P’ease, daddy,” pleaded Marian presently, “Ma-an <em>must</em> see mammy. Dere’s +such pitty fings in se shops, and me ’ants to do with mammy to see dem—in +morning.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 5]</span>The shops were already displaying their Christmas decorations.</p> + +<p>Marian’s father gave a great gasp.</p> + +<p>“Marian shall see mammy now,” he said solemnly, as he rose from his stool +still holding the child to his breast.</p> + +<p>“I’se so glad!” and she gave a little jump in his arms. “Good daddy!”</p> + +<p>“But father’s little poppet must be quiet, and not talk, or cry.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Marian with childhood’s readiness to make a required promise.</p> + +<p>The child had not seen her mother since the previous day, and the altered +face upon the pillow was so strange to her, that she half turned away, as +though to hide her face upon her father’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>The gleaming eyes of the dying mother were turned wistfully towards her +child.</p> + +<p>“See, poppet; look at mammy!” urged the father, turning the little face +towards the bed.</p> + +<p>“Mother’s darling!”</p> + +<p>There was less change in the mother’s voice than in her face; and the next +moment the little dark head lay on the pillow, and the tiny, nut-brown +hand was stroking the hollow cheek of the dying woman.</p> + +<p>“’oo is my mammy, isn’t ’oo?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, darling; kiss mammy good-bye,” was the heart-breaking answer.</p> + +<p>“Me tiss ’oo,” said the child, suiting the action to the word; “but not +dood-bye. Me see ’oo aden.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 6]</span> Mammy, se shops is so bootiful! Will ’oo take +Ma-an to see dem? ’nother day, yes ’nother day.”</p> + +<p>“Daddy will take Marian to see the shops,” said the dying mother, in +labouring tones. “Mammy going to Jesus. Jesus will take care of mother’s +little lamb.”</p> + +<p>The mother’s lips were pressed in a last lingering kiss upon the face of +her child, and then Marian was carried downstairs.</p> + +<p>When the child was gone, “Cobbler” Horn sat down by the bedside, and took +and held the wasted hand of his wife. It was evident that the end was +coming fast; and urgent indeed must be the summons which would draw him +now from the side of his dying wife. Hour after hour he sat waiting for +the great change. As the night crept on, he watched the deepening shadow +on the beloved face, and marked the gathering signs which heralded the +brief triumph of the king of terrors. There was but little talk. It could +not be otherwise; for, every moment, utterance became more difficult to +the dying wife. A simple, and affectionate question and answer passed now +and then between the two. At infrequent intervals expressions of spiritual +confidence were uttered by the dying wife; and these were varied with a +few calmly-spoken directions about the child. From the husband came, now +and then, words of tender encouragement, mingled with morsels of +consolation from the good old Book, with, ever and anon, a whispered +prayer.</p> + +<p>The night had almost passed when the end came.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 7]</span> The light of the grey +December dawn was struggling feebly through the lattice, when the young +wife and mother, whose days had been so few, died, with a smile upon her +face; and “Cobbler” Horn passed out of the room and down the stairs, a +wifeless husband and the father of a motherless bairn.</p> + + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 8]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>AUNT JEMIMA.</strong></p> + + +<p>It was Aunt Jemima who stepped into the vacant place of Marian’s mother. +She was the only sister of “Cobbler” Horn, and, with the exception of a +rich uncle in America, from whom they never heard, and a wandering cousin, +a sad scapegrace, she was her brother’s only living relative.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn’s sister was not the person to whom he would have chosen +to entrust the care of his motherless child, or the management of his +house. But he had no choice. He had no other relative whom he could summon +to his help, and Aunt Jemima was upon him before he had had time to think. +She was hurt that she had not been called to the death-bed of her +sister-in-law. But the omission rather increased, than diminished, the +promptitude with which she wrote to announce that she would come to her +bereaved brother without delay, and within a week she was duly installed +as mistress of his house.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 9]</span>“I thought I had better come at once,” she said, on the night of her +arrival. “There’s no telling what might have happened else.”</p> + +<p>“Very good of you, Jemima,” was her brother’s grave response.</p> + +<p>And so it was. The woman meant well. She loved her brother sincerely +enough; and she had resolved to sacrifice, for his sake and his child’s, +the peace and freedom of her life. But Aunt Jemima’s love was wont to +show itself in unlovely ways. The fact of meaning well, though often a +good enough excuse for faulty doing, is not a satisfactory substitute +for the doing of that which is well. Your toleration of the rough +handling inflicted by the awkwardness of inconsiderate love does not +counteract its disastrous effects on the susceptible spirit and the +tender heart, especially if they be those of a child. It is, therefore, +not strange that, though “Cobbler” Horn loved his sister, he wished she +had stayed away. She was his elder by ten years; and she lived by herself, +on the interest of a small sum of money left to her by their father, at +his death, in a far off village, which was the family home.</p> + +<p>“You’ll be glad to know, Thomas,” she said, “that I’ve made arrangements +to stay, now I’m here.”</p> + +<p>They were sitting by the fire, towards supper-time; and the attention of +“Cobbler” Horn was divided between what his sister was saying and certain +sounds of subdued sobbing which proceeded from upstairs. Very early in the +evening Aunt Jemima had unceremoniously packed Marian off to<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 10]</span> bed, and the +tiny child was taking a long time to cry herself to sleep in the cold, +dark room.</p> + +<p>“Never mind the child,” said Aunt Jemima sharply, as she observed her +brother’s restless glances towards the staircase door; “on no account must +she be allowed to have her own way. It was high time she went to bed; and +she’ll soon be fast asleep.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jemima,” said the troubled father; “but I wish you had been more +gentle with the child.”</p> + +<p>“Fiddlesticks!” was the contemptuous exclamation of Aunt Jemima, as she +regarded her brother severely through her spectacles; and she added, +“Since you have wished me to take the oversight of your house and child, +you must leave me to manage them as I think fit.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn did not venture to remind his sister that he had not +expressed any such wish. Being so much his senior, and having at least +as strong a will as his own, Jemima Horn had always maintained a certain +predominance over her brother, and her ascendancy still prevailed to some +extent. Making no further reference to the child, he sat listening by +turns to a prolonged exposition of his sister’s views on the management of +children, and to the continued wailings which floated down from the room +above, until, at length, as a more piteous cry than all frantically voiced +his own name, “faver,” his self-restraint gave way, and he rose hastily +and went upstairs.</p> + +<p>Aunt Jemima watched him in grim silence to the foot of the stairs.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 11]</span>“Mind,” she then called after him, “she is not to come down.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn did not so far set his sister at defiance as to act in flat +contradiction to her decree. Perhaps he himself did not think it well that +the child should be brought downstairs again, after once having been put +to bed. But, if Marian might not come down, Marian’s father might stay up. +As soon as his step sounded on the stairs the child’s wailing ceased.</p> + +<p>“Zat zoo, daddy?” and the father felt, in the darkness, that two tiny arms +were stretched out towards him in piteous welcome. Lighting the candle, +which stood on the table by the window, he sat down on the edge of the +bed, and, in a moment, Marian’s little brown arms were tightly clasped +about his neck. For a brief space he held the child to his breast; and +then he gently laid her back upon the pillow, and having tucked the +bed-clothes well about her, he kissed the little tear-stained face, +and sat talking in the soothing tones which a loving parent can so well +employ.</p> + +<p>Leaving him there, let us make a somewhat closer inspection of Miss +Jemima, as she sits in solitary state before the fire downstairs. You +observe that she is tall, angular, and rigid. Her figure displays the +uprightness of a telegraph pole, and her face presents a striking +arrangement of straight lines and sharp points. Her eyes gleam like points +of fire beneath her positively shaggy brows. Her complexion is dark, and +her hair, though still abundant, is already<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 12]</span> turning grey. Her dress is +plainness itself, and she wears no jewelry, all kinds of which she regards +with scorn. Her old-fashioned silver watch is a family heirloom, and a +broad black ribbon is her only watch-guard.</p> + +<p>Yet there is nothing of malice or evil intent in Aunt Jemima’s soul. She +is no less strictly upright in character than in form. She cannot tolerate +wickedness, folly, or weakness of any kind. So far well. The lack of her +character is the tenderness which is woman’s crowning grace. When she is +kind it is in such a way that one would almost prefer for her to be +unkind.</p> + +<p>Such is Aunt Jemima, as we see her sitting in front of her brother’s fire, +and as we know her to be. Need we wonder that, “Cobbler” Horn’s heart +misgave him as to the probable fate of his little Marian in such rough, +though righteous, hands?</p> + +<p>When “Cobbler” Horn at length came downstairs, his sister was still +sitting before the fire. On his appearance, she rose from her seat.</p> + +<p>“Thomas, I am ashamed of you,” she said, as she began, in a masterful way, +to make preparations for supper. “Such weakness will utterly spoil the +child. But you were always foolish.”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid, sister,” was the quiet reply, “that we shall hardly agree +with one another—you and I—on that point.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 13]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>HOW MISS JEMIMA MANAGED HER BROTHER’S HOUSE.</strong></p> + + +<p>On entering upon the management of her brother’s house, Aunt Jemima +laid down two laws, which were, that the house was to be kept spotlessly +clean, and that everything was always to be in its right place; and her +severe, and even fierce, insistence on the minute fulfilment of these +unexceptionable ordinances soon threatened utterly to banish comfort +from her brother’s house.</p> + +<p>The restrictions this masterful lady placed upon her patient brother +constituted a state of absolute tyranny. Lest her immaculate door-step +should be soiled, she would rarely allow him to enter the house by the +front-door. She placed a thick mat inside his workshop, at the doorway +leading into the front-room; and she exercised a lynx-eyed supervision +to ensure that he always wiped his feet before coming in. She would never +permit him to go upstairs without putting off his boots. She removed his +hat from<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 14]</span> the wall of the front-room, and hung it on a nail in a beam, +which was just over his head as he sat at work in his shop; and whenever +she walked, with her policeman-like tread, in the room above, the hat +would fall down, and strike him on the head. He bore this annoyance for +a day or two, and then quietly removed hat and nail to one of the walls.</p> + +<p>Strong-natured though he was, “Cobbler” Horn felt it no weakness to yield +to his sister in trifles; and he bore with exhaustless patience such +vexations as she inflicted on him alone. But he was firm as a rock where +the comfort of any one else was concerned. It was beautiful to see his +meek submission to every restriction which she laid upon him; it was +sublime to behold his stern resistance to such harsh requirements as she +proposed to lay upon others.</p> + +<p>More than one battle was fought between the brother and sister on this +latter point. But it was on Marian’s account that the contention was most +frequent and severe. Sad to say, the coming of Aunt Jemima seemed likely +to drive all happiness from the lot of the hapless child. Rigid and cruel +rules were laid upon the tiny mite. Requirements were made, and enforced, +which bewildered and terrified the little thing beyond degree. She was +made to go to bed and get up at preternaturally early hours; and her +employment during the day was mapped out in obedience to similarly +senseless rules. Her playthings, which had all been swept into a drawer +and placed under lock and key, were<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 15]</span> handed out by Aunt Jemima, one at a +time, at the infrequent intervals, during which, for brief periods, and +under strict supervision, the child was permitted to play. Much of the day +was occupied with the doing of a variety of tasks few of which were really +within the compass of her childish powers. Aunt Jemima herself undertook +to impart to Marian elementary instruction in reading, writing, and +kindred acts. Occasionally also the child was taken out by her grim +relative for a stately walk, during which, however, she was not permitted, +on any account, to linger in front of a shop window, or stray from Aunt +Jemima’s side. And then, in the evening, after their early tea, while Aunt +Jemima sat at her work at the table, the poor little infant was perched on +a chair before the fire, and there required to sit till her bed-time, with +her legs dangling till they ached again, while the tiny head became so +heavy that it nodded this way and that in unconquerable drowsiness, and, +on more occasions than one, the child rolled over and fell to the floor, +like a ball.</p> + +<p>One lesson which Aunt Jemima took infinite pains to lodge in Marian’s +dusky little head was that she must never speak unless she was first +spoken to; and if, in the exuberance of child-nature, she transgressed +this rule, especially at meal-times, Aunt Jemima’s mouth would open like a +pair of nut-crackers, and she would give utterance to a succession of such +snappish chidings, that Marian would almost be afraid she was going to be +swallowed up. A hundred times a day the child incurred the righteous ire +of<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 16]</span> this cast-iron aunt. From morning to night the little thing was +worried almost out of her life by the grim governess of her father’s +house; and Aunt Jemima even haunted her dreams.</p> + +<p>Marian had one propensity which Aunt Jemima early set herself to repress. +The child was gifted with an innate love of rambling. More than once, when +very young indeed, she had wandered far away from home, and her father +and mother had thought her lost. But she had always, as by an unerring +instinct, found her way back. This propensity it was, indeed, necessary to +restrain; but Aunt Jemima adopted measures for the purpose which were the +sternest of the stern. She issued a decree that Marian was never to leave +the house, except when accompanied by either her father or Miss Jemima +herself. In order that the object of this restriction might be effectually +secured, it became necessary that Miss Jemima should take the child with +her on almost every occasion when she herself went out. These events were +intensely dreaded by Marian; and she would shrink into a corner of the +room when she observed Aunt Jemima making preparations for leaving the +house. But she made no actual show of reluctance; and it would be +difficult to tell whether she was the more afraid of going out with +Aunt Jemima, or of letting Aunt Jemima see that she was afraid.</p> + +<p>It was a terrible time for the poor child. On every side she was checked, +frowned upon, and kept down. If she was betrayed into the utterance of a +merry word<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 17]</span> she was snapped at as though she had said something bad; and +ebullitions of childish spirits were checked again and again, until their +occurrence became rare. And yet this woman thought herself a Christian, +and believed that, in subjecting to a system of such complicated tyranny +the bright little child who had been committed to her charge, she was +beginning to train the hapless mite in the way she should go.</p> + +<p>It was a very simple circumstance which first indicated to “Cobbler” Horn +the kind of training his child was beginning to receive. Happening to go, +one morning, into the living-room, he found that his sister had gone out, +and, for once, left Marian a prisoner in the house. The child was seated +on a chair, with her chubby legs hanging wearily down, and a woe-begone +expression on her face. Taking courage from the absence of her dreadful +aunt, Marian asked her father to give her some of her toys, and to let her +play. Finding, to his surprise, on questioning the child, that she had +been forbidden to touch her playthings without express permission, and +that they were put away in the drawer, he readily gave her such of them as +she desired, and crowned her happiness by remaining to play with her till +Aunt Jemima returned.</p> + +<p>This incident created a feeling of uneasiness in the father’s mind; but it +was a circumstance of another kind which fully revealed to him the actual +state of things. Passing through the room one evening when Marian was on +the point of going to bed, he paused to listen to the evening prayer of +his child. She<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 18]</span> knelt, in her little night-clothes, at Aunt Jemima’s knee. +The father sighed, as he waited for the sound of the simple words which +had been learnt at the dictation of the tender mother-voice which was now +for ever still. What, then, were his astonishment and pain when Marian, +instead of repeating her mother’s prayer, entered upon the recital of a +string of theological declarations which Aunt Jemima dictated to her one +by one!</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn strode forward, and laid a strong repressive hand upon +the child; and Aunt Jemima will never forget the flash of his eye and the +stern tones of his voice, as he demanded that Marian should be permitted +to pray her mother’s prayer.</p> + +<p>After this he noticed frequent signs of the tyranny of which Marian was +the victim, and interposed at many points. But it was only in part that +he was able to counteract the cruel discipline to which Aunt Jemima was +subjecting his child.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 19]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>“ME LUN AWAY.”</strong></p> + + +<p>Winter passed drearily away—a wet one, as it happened, with never once +the white gleam of snow, and scarcely a touch of the healthy sting of +frost. “Cobbler” Horn had not ceased to sorrow for his dead wife; and, +when the spring was well advanced, there befell him another, and scarcely +less severe bereavement, though of a different kind.</p> + +<p>There had been no improvement in the relations between Aunt Jemima and the +child. Aunt Jemima still maintained the harsh system of discipline which +she had adopted at first; and the result was that the child had been led +to regard her father’s sister with as near an approach to hatred as was +possible to her loving little heart. Marian’s heart was big, almost to +bursting, with concealed sorrow. Like her father, young as she was, she +found it easier to bear grief than to tell it out. She did not want her +father to know how miserable she was. Her childish soul was<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 20]</span> filled with +bitterness, and her young life was being spoiled. Such of her pleasures as +had not been taken from her were divested of all their charm. Almost her +sole remaining joy was to snatch, now and then, a bit of clandestine love +with her father, when, on some rare occasion, Aunt Jemima happened to be +out of the way.</p> + +<p>Recognising the uselessness of resisting a hand so hard and strong as that +of Aunt Jemima, Marian had lately meditated another way of escape from the +wretchedness of her lot. She contemplated an expedient which occurs more +readily than any other to the youthful victim of oppression, but which had +probably never before presented itself to the mind of a child so young. +The expedient is one, indeed, which seldom effects its purpose, and is +usually productive of a plentiful crop of troubles. But Marian had no +fear. She was full of one thought. She could not any longer endure Aunt +Jemima; and she must make it impossible for Aunt Jemima to scold, or +smack, or restrain her any more. She must escape, without delay, from the +sound of Aunt Jemima’s harsh voice, and place herself beyond the reach of +Aunt Jemima’s rough hand. True, there was her father. How could she leave +him? This would have been impossible to her if she had realised what she +was about to do. But it seemed so easy and pleasant to slip out into the +bright spring morning, and trot away into the mysterious and delightful +country, which lay outside the town. Nor did she dream of the hardships +and danger which might be awaiting her out<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 21]</span> in the strange, unloving +world, into which she had so lightly resolved to launch her little life. +So it came to pass that, on a certain bright May morning, Marian took her +opportunity, and went out into the world.</p> + +<p>Marian’s opportunity was furnished by the fact that Aunt Jemima had gone +out, leaving Marian at home, and, for once, had forgotten to lock the +door. As soon as Aunt Jemima’s back was turned, the child huddled her +little pink print sun-bonnet upon her small black head, and, with one +furtive glance over her shoulder towards her father’s workshop, whence she +could distinctly hear the quick “tap-tap” of his hammer, she opened the +front-door, and slipped into the street. Her first action was to shoot a +keen glance, from her sharp little eyes, to right and left. There was no +one to be seen but one of the funny little twin men who kept a huckster’s +shop across the way. This little man was a great friend of Marian’s, and +he called to her now in joyous tones, as he stood in the doorway of his +shop, to come over and see what he had in his pocket. Marian gave a +decided shake of her head.</p> + +<p>“No; Ma-an going away. Tum another time.”</p> + +<p>Then, murmuring to herself, “Me lun away,” she set off down the street, +with a defiant swagger of her small person, and her bonnet-strings +streaming out upon the wind; and the little huckster watched her with +an admiring gaze, little thinking into what wilds of sorrow those tiny +twinkling feet had set off to run.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 22]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>“THE LITTLE TWIN BRETHREN.”</strong></p> + + +<p>The name of the little hucksters across the way was Dudgeon. As to age, +they were on the verge of thirty—Tommy having entered the world a few +minutes previous to John. They were so much alike that it was difficult to +distinguish them when apart. John was just a shade lighter in complexion +than Tommy, and Tommy overtopped his brother by something like an inch. +The twins were so small as to seem insignificant; but their meek +amiability was an efficient set off against their physical deficiencies. +If there was any measure of self-assertiveness between them, it belonged +chiefly to Tommy. Though both the little men were kind to Marian, Tommy +was her especial friend; and it was he who had watched her as she ran +away. The twins were both bachelors; though John had kept company for +several years with a young woman of exemplary patience. Tommy, who was +a sincere Christian, was a member of the church<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 23]</span> to which “Cobbler” Horn +belonged. John occasionally attended the services at the same place, but +could not be persuaded to join the church.</p> + +<p>The close resemblance between the brothers was the cause of many ludicrous +mistakes. In their boyhood, they had frequently been blamed for each +other’s faults and misdeeds; and it was characteristic of Tommy that he +had quietly suffered more than one caning which his brother ought to have +received. But, when it had been proposed to administer to him a dose of +medicine which had been prescribed for John, he had quietly protested and +explained the mistake.</p> + +<p>When the twins grew up, similar blunders continued to occur; and the +little men had frequent opportunities of unlawfully profiting by the +errors in which their close resemblance to each other often involved their +friends. But, to the credit of these worthy little men be it said, they +conscientiously declined to avail themselves of the opportunities of +illegitimate benefit thus thrown in their way.</p> + +<p>It was a curious sight to see these two queer little men standing, +sitting, or walking, side by side. The minister of their chapel would +often speak of the first occasion on which he had seen John Dudgeon. It +was one Sunday evening, shortly after he had assumed the pastorate of +the church. The service had just commenced, and the eye of the minister +happened to rest, for a moment, on the humble figure of Tommy Dudgeon, +who was, as usual, in his place. The minister had already made the +acquaintance<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 24]</span> of Tommy, but of the existence of John he was not yet aware. +What, then, was his astonishment, the next moment, to see another Tommy +Dudgeon, as it seemed, come in and take his place beside the one already +in the pew! For a breathing space the new pastor imagined himself the +victim of an optical illusion; and then he rubbed his eyes, and concluded +that Tommy Dudgeon had a twin brother, and that this was he.</p> + +<p>It was not surprising that these two peculiar little men should have +excited the amusement of those to whom they were known. Their amazing and +almost indistinguishable resemblance to each other, and the consequent +unconscious mutual mimicry of tone and gesture which prevailed between +them, while they were a source of frequent perplexity, were also +irresistibly provocative of mirth. What wonder that those who saw the +little hucksters for the first time should have felt strongly inclined to +regard them in a comic light; or that the mere mention of their names +should have unfailingly brought a smile to the faces of those to whom +their peculiarities were known!</p> + +<p>The boys of the Grammar School, which was situated in a neighbouring +street, had, from time immemorial, furnished Tommy and John Dudgeon with +an epithet accommodated from classic lore, and dubbed them, “the <em>little</em> +Twin Brethren.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 25]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>THE FATHER’S QUEST.</strong></p> + + +<p>When Aunt Jemima came home, she was surprised, in no small degree, at the +absence of Marian. With gathering indignation she called up the stairs, +then searched the house, and finally presented herself before her brother, +who was quite alone in his workshop, and sat calmly working on his stool.</p> + +<p>“Then she is not here?”</p> + +<p>“Who? Marian?” responded “Cobbler” Horn in no accent of concern, looking +up for a moment from his work. “No, I thought she was with you.”</p> + +<p>“No; I left her in the room for a moment, and now she is nowhere to be +found.”</p> + +<p>There seemed to “Cobbler” Horn no reason for alarm, and, as his sister +returned to the kitchen, he quietly went on with his work. But Aunt +Jemima’s mind was ill at ease. Once more she searched the house, and +called and called again. There was no response, and the silence which +followed was profound and ominous. Swiftly she passed, with growing<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 26]</span> +alarm, through her brother’s workshop, and out into the yard. A glance +around, and then a closer search; but still no sign of the missing child. +The perturbed woman re-entered her brother’s presence, and stood before +him, erect and rigid, and with outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>“The child’s gone!” was her gloomy exclamation.</p> + +<p>“Gone!” echoed “Cobbler” Horn blankly, looking up. “Where?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know; but she’s gone quite away, and may never come back.”</p> + +<p>Then “Cobbler” Horn perceived that his sister was alarmed; and, +notwithstanding the occasion, he was comforted by the unwonted tenderness +she had expressed. As for Marian, he knew her for a born rambler; and it +was not the first time she had strayed from home.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” he said placidly, “she has gone to the little shop over the +way.”</p> + +<p>Then he resumed his work, as though he had simply told his sister where +she would be likely to find her spectacles.</p> + +<p>Aunt Jemima took the hint, as a drowning person catches at a straw. She +made her way to the front-door, and having opened it, was on the point of +crossing the street, when Tommy Dudgeon emerged from the shop, and came +over towards where she stood.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, ma-am,” he said, halting at a respectful distance. “You are +looking for little miss?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 27]</span>“Well,” snapped Aunt Jemima, “and if I am, what then? Do you know where +she is?”</p> + +<p>“No, ma-am; but I saw her go away.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima seized the arm of the little man with an iron grip.</p> + +<p>“Man! you saw her go away, and you let her go?”</p> + +<p>With difficulty Tommy freed his arm.</p> + +<p>“Well, ma-am, perhaps I ought——”</p> + +<p>“Of course you ought,” rapped out the lady, sharply. “You must be a +gabey.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt, ma-am. But little miss will come back. She knows her way about. +She will be home to dinner.”</p> + +<p>Having spoken, Tommy was turning to recross the street.</p> + +<p>“Stop, man!”</p> + +<p>Tommy stopped and faced around once more.</p> + +<p>“Which way did she go?”</p> + +<p>“That way, ma-am,” replied Tommy, pointing along the street, to Aunt +Jemima’s left-hand, and his own right.</p> + +<p>The troubled lady instantly marched, in the direction indicated, to the +end of the street; but, finding that five ways branched off therefrom, she +returned baffled to her brother’s house, and sought his presence once +more.</p> + +<p>“Thomas,” she cried, almost fiercely, “the child has certainly run away!”</p> + +<p>Still “Cobbler” Horn was not alarmed.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said calmly, “never mind, Jemima.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 28]</span> She has a habit of going off +by herself. She knows her way about, and will not stray far. She will be +back by dinner-time, no doubt.”</p> + +<p>Though by no means satisfied, Miss Jemima was fain to accept this view of +the case for the time. With a troubled mind, she resumed her suspended +domestic duties. Unlikely as it might seem, she could not banish the dread +that Marian had actually run away; and, as the morning passed, the fear +grew stronger and stronger in the troubled lady’s breast that she would +see her little niece no more. Accordingly when dinner-time arrived, Aunt +Jemima was not surprised that Marian did not appear. The dinner consisted +of Irish stew—Marian’s favourite dish. On the stroke of twelve it was +smoking on the table. For the twentieth time the perturbed lady went to +the door, and gazed wistfully up and down the street. Then, with a sigh, +she re-entered the house, and called her brother to dinner.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn, feeling sure that Marian would soon return, had dismissed +the fact of her disappearance from his mind; and when, on coming in to +dinner, he found that she was still absent, he was taken by surprise.</p> + +<p>In reply to his inquiry, Aunt Jemima jerked out the opinion that the child +would not come back at all.</p> + +<p>“Why shouldn’t she?” he asked. “I’ve known her stay away longer than this, +and there’s no occasion for alarm.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he addressed himself to his dinner with<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 29]</span> his usual gusto; but +Miss Jemima had no appetite, and the show of eating that she made was but +a poor pretence.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be so much alarmed, Jemima,” said her brother, making progress with +his dinner. “I’ve no doubt the child is amongst her friends. By and bye +I’ll go out and hunt her up.”</p> + +<p>He still had no fear that his little daughter would not soon return. He +accordingly finished his dinner with his usual deliberation; and it was +not until he had completed one or two urgent pieces of work, that he, at +last, put on his hat and coat, and taking his stout blackthorn stick, set +out in search of his missing child.</p> + +<p>All the weary afternoon, he went from house to house, amongst friends and +friendly neighbours; but no one had seen Marian, or knew anything as to +her whereabouts. Every now and then he returned home, to see if the child +had come back. But each time he found only Aunt Jemima, sitting before the +fire like an image of grim despair. She would look up with fierce +eagerness, on his entrance, and drop her gaze again with a gasp when she +saw that he was alone.</p> + +<p>Long before the afternoon was over the father’s unconcern had given place +to serious alarm. He was not greatly surprised that he had failed to find +Marian in the house of any of their friends; but he wondered that she had +not yet come home of her own accord. While he would not, even now, believe +that Marian had run away, he was compelled to admit that she<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 30]</span> was lost. +But what was that? He had turned once more towards home, and had entered +his own street, and there was Marian, playing with some other children, on +the pavement, just in front. Her back was towards him, as she bent down +over her play. But there was no mistaking that thick, night-black hair, +and the little plump brown legs which peeped out beneath the small frock. +With the promptitude of absolute certainty, he put out his strong hands +and lifted the child from the ground. Then he uttered a cry. It was not +Marian after all! He put her down—he almost let her drop, and the +startled child began to cry. “Cobbler” Horn hastily pushed a penny into +her hand, and strode on. He staggered like one who has received a blow. +It seemed almost as if he had actually had his little one in his arms, +and she had slipped away again.</p> + +<p>When he reached home, his sister was still sitting in grim silence, +before the now fireless grate. On her brother’s entrance, she looked +up as aforetime. “Cobbler” Horn sank despondently into a chair.</p> + +<p>“Nowhere to be found!” he said, with a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>“We must have the tea ready,” he added, as though at the dictate of a +sudden thought.</p> + +<p>“Ah, you are tired, and hungry.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Jemima hesitated on the last word. Could her brother be hungry? She +thought she would never wish to taste food again.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said quickly; “but Marian will want her tea. Put the dinner away. +It is cold, Jemima.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 31]</span>“I put her plate in the oven,” said Aunt Jemima, in a hollow voice, as she +rose from her seat.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” gasped the father. The little plate had become hot and cold again, +and its contents were quite dried up. Aunt Jemima put the plate upon the +oven-top; and then turned, and looked conscience-stricken into her +brother’s face. Severe towards herself, as towards others, she +unflinchingly acknowledged her great fault.</p> + +<p>“Brother, your child is gone; and I have driven her away.”</p> + +<p>She lifted her hands on either side of her head, and gently swayed herself +to and fro once—a grim gesture of despair.</p> + +<p>“I do not ask you to forgive me. It is not to be expected of you—unless +she comes back again. If she does not, I shall never forgive myself.”</p> + +<p>“Jemima,” said “Cobbler” Horn, rising from his seat, and placing his hand +lightly on her shoulder, “You are too severe with yourself. That the child +is lost is evident enough; but surely she may be found! I will go to the +police authorities: they will help us.”</p> + +<p>He turned to the door, but paused with his hand on the latch.</p> + +<p>“Jemima,” he said, gently, “you must not talk about my not forgiving you. +I would try to forgive my greatest enemy, much more my own sister, who has +but done what she believed to be best.”</p> + +<p>The authorities at the police-station did what they could. Messages were +sent to every police centre in the town; and very soon every policeman on +his beat<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 32]</span> was on the look-out for the missing child. At the same time, an +officer was told off to accompany the anxious father on a personal search +for his little girl. First of all, they visited the casual ward at the +workhouse, and astonished its motley and dilapidated occupants by waking +them to ask if they had fallen in with a strayed child on any of the roads +by which they had severally approached the town. When they had recovered +from their first alarm beneath the gleam of the policeman’s bulls-eye, +these waifs of humanity, one and all, declared their inability to supply +the desired information. The officer next conducted his companion into the +courts and bye-ways of the town. Many a den of infamy was filled with a +quiver of alarm, and many a haunt of poverty was made to uncover its +wretchedness before the horrified gaze of “Cobbler” Horn. But the missing +child was not in any of these. Next they went a little way out on one or +two of the country roads. But here all was dark: and they soon retraced +their steps.</p> + +<p>Having ascertained that nothing had been heard at the police-station of +his child, “Cobbler” Horn at length turned homeward, in the early morning, +with a weary heart. Miss Jemima was still sitting where he had left her, +and he sadly shook his head in response to the appeal of her dark hollow +eyes. During the hour or so which remained before dawn, “Cobbler” Horn +restlessly paced the house, pausing, now and then, to open the front-door +and step out into the street, that he might listen for the returning +patter of the two little feet that had wandered away.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 33]</span>Before it was fairly light, he left his sister, still distraught and rigid +in her chair, and went into the streets once more. What could he do which +he had not already done? From the first his heart had turned to God in +prayer, and this seemed now his sole remaining resource. Yes, he could +still pray; and, as he did so now, his belief grew stronger and stronger +that, if not now, yet sometime, he would surely find his child again.</p> + +<p>Not many streets from his own he met a woman whom he knew. She lived, with +her husband, in a solitary cottage on the London Road—the road into which +“Cobbler” Horn’s street directly led, and she was astir thus early, she +explained, to catch the first train to a place some miles away. But what +had brought Mr. Horn out so soon? “Cobbler” Horn told his sorrowful story, +and the woman gave a sudden start.</p> + +<p>“Why,” she said, “that reminds me. I saw the child yesterday morning. She +passed our house, trotting at a great rate. It was washing day, and, +besides, I had my husband’s dinner in the oven, or I think I should have +gone after her.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn regarded the woman with strange, wide-open eyes.</p> + +<p>“If you had only stopped her!” he cried. “But of course you didn’t know.”</p> + +<p>With that, he left the woman standing in the street, and hurried away. +Very soon he was walking swiftly along the London Road. The one thought in +his mind was that he was on the track of his child at<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 34]</span> last. He passed the +wayside cottage where the woman lived who had seen Marian go by, and went +on until, moved by a sudden impulse, he paused to rest his arms upon the +top of a five-barred gate, and look upon the field into which it led. Then +he uttered a cry, and, tearing open the gate, strode into the field. Lying +amidst the grass was a little shoe. It was one of Marian’s without a +doubt. Had he not made it himself? He picked it up and hid it away in the +pocket of his coat. Marian had evidently wandered that way, and was lost +in the large wood which lay on the other side of the field. To reach the +wood was the work of a few moments. Plunging amongst the trees, he soon +came upon a pool, near the margin of which were some prostrate tree +trunks. Near one of these the ground was littered with shreds of what +might have been articles of clothing; and amongst them was a long strip of +print, which had a familiar look. He picked it up and examined it closely. +Then the truth flashed upon him. It was one of the strings of Marian’s +sun-bonnet! Holding it loosely between his finger and thumb, he gazed upon +the foul green waters of the pond. Did they cover the body of his child? +He had no further thought of searching the wood. With a shudder he turned +away, and hurried home.</p> + +<p>Aunt Jemima had bestirred herself, and was moving listlessly about the +house.</p> + +<p>“Jemima, do you know this?” She took the strip of print into her hand.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, “it is——”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 35]</span>He finished her sentence. “——the string of her bonnet.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>He told her where he had found it, and showed her the shoe.</p> + +<p>The pond was dragged, but nothing was discovered. They searched the wood, +and scoured the country for miles around; but they came upon no further +trace of the missing child.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 36]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>WHAT HAD BECOME OF THE CHILD?</strong></p> + + +<p>When Marian left her father’s house, she had but one idea in her mind. Her +sole desire was to escape from Aunt Jemima; and it seemed to her that the +most effectual method of doing so was to get into the country as fast as +she could. It was not likely, she thought, that there would be any Aunt +Jemimas in so pleasant a region as she had always understood the country +to be. She knew vaguely which direction to take, and supposed that if she +kept on long enough, she would ultimately reach her destination. What she +would do when she got there she had not paused to think. At present she +was simply thrilling with the sweet consciousness of liberty, and enjoying +her scamper in the fresh spring morning air. It was not likely, perhaps, +that Marian would run right away from home, and stay away. Like any other +little chick, she would make for home at roosting time, if hunger did not +constrain<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 37]</span> her to turn her steps thitherward at a much earlier hour.</p> + +<p>Marian’s surmise that the way she had taken led into the country proved to +be correct. The street widened out into a road, the houses became fewer +and brighter till they ceased altogether; and the child realized, with a +little tremor, that, at last, she was out in the country all alone. Her +feeling was one of timid joy. All around her were the green fields and +waving trees; and the only house in sight was a little white-washed +cottage far on in front. It cost Marian an effort to pass a man with a +coal cart who presently loomed in view; but when she found that he +slouched by without taking any notice of her, she took heart again and +tripped blithely on.</p> + +<p>Presently she found herself opposite to the little white-washed cottage; +and she remembered that she had been there once or twice with her father. +She would have been better pleased, just now, if the cottage had been on +some other road. How could she pass it without being seen? This was +plainly impossible; for there was the woman of the house—being the same +whom Marian’s father met the following morning—hanging out the clothes in +the garden, close to the hedge. Marian trotted on, pretending not to know +that there was any one near. Then she felt hot all over, as she became +aware the woman had seen her, and was calling across the road. But she +just gave her dusky little head a determined shake, and pursued her way. +The woman, being weighted with an accumulation of domestic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> cares, without +a second thought, and much to her subsequent regret, let the little +runaway go by.</p> + +<p>When Marian had left the cottage out of sight behind, she began to feel +lonely, and to be very much afraid. There was not a human being in sight, +except herself; and the only dwelling she could see was a farm-house, +perched on the top of a hill, away across the fields. She slackened her +pace, and looked furtively around. Then she went on more quickly again; +but, in a few moments, a slight bend in the road brought before her a +sight at which she stopped short and uttered a cry of alarm. An +exceedingly ill-favoured man, and a no more prepossessing woman, were +sitting upon the bank, by the road-side, discussing a dinner of broken +victuals. They were thorough-going tramps, of middle age. Marian would +have fled; but their evil eyes held her to the spot.</p> + +<p>“What a pretty little lady!” said the man, holding out a very dirty hand. +“Come here, missy!”</p> + +<p>But Marian shrank back with a smothered cry.</p> + +<p>“I’ve finished my dinner, I have,” said the man, getting up.</p> + +<p>“So have I,” echoed the woman, following his example; “and we’ll go for +a walk with little miss.”</p> + +<p>“What a precious lonely road!” she remarked, when she had glanced this way +and that, to make sure that no prying eyes were near. “Catch hold o’ the +little ’un, Jake; and we’ll take a stroll in the fields.”</p> + +<p>There was a perfect understanding between this<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 39]</span> precious pair; and Marian +was promptly lifted over a five-barred gate, and led by the woman across +a grass field, towards a wood on the other side, while the man followed +stolidly in the rear. A few paces from the gate Marian’s shoe came off; +but she was as much too frightened to say anything about it, as she was to +ask any questions of her captors, or to resist their will. Having reached +the wood, they plunged into its recesses, and at length halted before a +large pool, at the edge of which there lay upon the ground the trunks of +some trees which had been cut down. Taking her seat on one of these, the +woman drew Marian to her side, and, while the man stood by with an evil +smile, proceeded to strip off some of the child’s clothes. Marian began to +cry, but was silenced with a rough shake and a threat of being thrown into +the pond. Having divested the child of most of her garments, the woman +took from a dirty bundle which she carried a draggled grey wool shawl, +which she wrapped tightly, crosswise, around Marian’s body, and tied in +a hard knot behind her back.</p> + +<p>Perceiving that Marian had lost one of her shoes, the hag sent her +husband back to look for it, while she proceeded with the metamorphosis +of the hapless infant who had fallen into her hands. She smeared the +little face with muddy water from the margin of the pool; she jerked out +the semi-circular comb which held back Marian’s cloud of dusky hair, and +let the thick locks fall in disorder about her head and face; she dragged +the little sun bonnet in the green slime at the margin of the pool, and, +on pretence of tying it<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 40]</span> on the child’s head, wrenched off one of the +strings, which she heedlessly left lying on the ground.</p> + +<p>At this point the man returned without the missing shoe.</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” said his spouse. “Lend me your knife.”</p> + +<p>She then proceeded to cut and slash Marian’s remaining shoe in a most +remorseless manner, after which she replaced it on the child’s foot, and +wrapped around the other foot a piece of dirty rag.</p> + +<p>“Come now,” said the woman, having rolled up Marian’s clothes with the +rubbish in her bundle; “we wanted a little girl, and you’ll just do.” So +saying, she took tight hold of the child’s hand.</p> + +<p>“I want my daddy!” cried Marian, finding her voice at last.</p> + +<p>“That’s your daddy now,” said the woman, pointing to the man: “and I’m +your mammy. Come along!” and, with the word, she set off at a vigorous +pace, dragging the child, and, followed heavily by her husband, through +the wood, and across the field, and then out upon the road, away and away, +with their backs turned towards Marian’s home.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 41]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>THE SHOEMAKER BECOMES “GOLDEN.”</strong></p> + + +<p>One morning, about twelve years after the disappearance of Marian, there +came to her father a great, and almost overwhelming surprise.</p> + +<p>It is not necessary to dwell on the manner in which the twelve years had +passed. Nothing had ever been heard of Marian. The most thorough search +was made, but without result; and at length, the stricken father was +constrained to accept the conviction that his child was indeed gone from +him into the great world, and, bowing his head in the presence of his +God, he covered his bruised heart with the fair sheet of a dignified +self-control, and settled down to his work again, like a man and a +Christian.</p> + +<p>Yet he did not cease inwardly to grieve. If his child had gone to her dead +mother, there would have<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 42]</span> been strong consolation, and, perhaps, in time, +contentment might have come. But she was gone, not to her mother, but out +into the cold, pitiless world; and his imagination dwelt grimly on the +nameless miseries into which she might fall.</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima still kept her brother’s house; but she had been greatly +softened by her self-accusing grief. And now, as the brother and sister +sat at breakfast one autumn morning, came the surprise of which we speak. +It came in the form of a letter, which, before opening it, “Cobbler” Horn +regarded, for some moments, with a dubious air. The arrival of a letter at +his house was a rare event; and but for the fact that the missive bore his +name and address, he would have thought there was a mistake, and, even +now, the addition of the sign, “Esq.” to his name left the matter in some +doubt. The stoutness of the blue envelope, and the bold character of the +handwriting, gave the packet a business-like look. For a moment, “Cobbler” +Horn thought of his lost child. A slight circumstance was sufficient, even +yet, to re-awaken his hopes; and he still clung to the conviction that, +some day, his child would return. The letter, however, contained no +reference to the great sorrow of his life; and, indeed, its contents were +such that he forgot, for the time being, Marian, and everything else. He +looked up with a gasp of astonishment; and then, turning his attention +again to the letter, deliberately read it through, and, when he had +finished, calmly handed it to his sister. She read a few words, and +broke off with a cry.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 43]</span>“Thomas!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jemima, I am a rich man, it seems. Read on, and say what you think;” +and “Cobbler” Horn rose from his seat, and went quietly into his workshop.</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima devoured her brother’s letter with greedy eyes. It was from +a firm of London lawyers, and contained a brief announcement that the +rich uncle of “Cobbler” Horn had died, in America, without a will; that +“Cobbler” Horn was the lawful owner of all his wealth; and that they, the +lawyers, awaited “Cobbler” Horn’s commands. Would he call upon them at +their office in London, or should they attend him at his private, or any +other, address? In the meantime, he would oblige by drawing upon them for +any amount of money he might require.</p> + +<p>With what breath she had left Miss Jemima hurried into her brother’s +workshop.</p> + +<p>“Thomas,” she demanded, flourishing the letter in his face, “what are you +going to do?”</p> + +<p>“Think,” he answered concisely, without looking up from the hob-nailed +boot between his knees, “and pray, and get on with my work.”</p> + +<p>“But this letter requires an answer! And,” with a glance of disgust around +the rough shop with its signs of toil, “you are a rich man now, Thomas.”</p> + +<p>“That,” was the quiet reply, “does not alter the fact that I have +half-a-dozen pairs of boots to mend, and two of them are promised for +dinner-time. Leave me, now, Jemima, and we’ll talk the matter over this<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 44]</span> +evening. I don’t suppose the gentlemen will be in a hurry.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima withdrew as she was bidden, thinking that there was one +gentleman, at least, who was not in a hurry.</p> + +<p>All day long “Cobbler” Horn quietly worked on in the usual way. He did +this partly because he loved his work and was loath to give it up, partly +because he had so much work on hand, and partly that he might think and +pray, which he could always do best on his cobbler’s stool. He found it +difficult to realize what had taken place; but when, at last, he fairly +grasped the fact that he was now a rich man, mingled feelings of joy +and dread filled his breast. There was little taint of selfishness in +“Cobbler” Horn’s joy. It was no gratification to him to be relieved of +the necessity to work. Nor was he fascinated with the prospect of luxury. +His joy arose chiefly from the thought of the amount of good he would now +be able to do. It was impossible that he should form anything like an +adequate conception of the vast power for good which had been placed in +his hands. The boundless ability to benefit his fellowmen with which he +had been so suddenly endowed could not be realized in the first moments +of his great surprise, yet he perceived faint glimmerings of possibilities +of benevolence beyond his largest-hearted dreams.</p> + +<p>Thoughts of his long-lost child stole over him ever and anon. If she had +been left to him, he would have rejoiced in his good fortune the more, on +her account. But she was gone.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 45]</span>The joy of “Cobbler” Horn was chastened by a solemn dread. A great +responsibility had been laid upon him from which he would have infinitely +rather been free. He prayed, with trembling, that he might prove worthy of +so great a trust.</p> + +<p>At dinner-time Miss Jemima questioned her brother as to his intentions. +His answers were brief and indefinite. The matter could not be settled in +a moment. In the evening they would talk things over, and decide what to +do.</p> + +<p>The evening came, and brother and sister sat before the fire.</p> + +<p>“Jemima,” said “Cobbler” Horn, “I must accept this great responsibility.”</p> + +<p>“You surely did not think of doing anything else?” exclaimed the startled +lady.</p> + +<p>“Well—yes—I did. The burden seemed so great that, for a time, I shrank. +But the Lord has shown me my duty. I could have desired that we might have +remained as we were. But there is much consolation in the thought of all +the good we shall be able to do; and—well, the will of the Lord be done!”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima was astounded. Her brother had become rich beyond the dreams +of avarice, and he talked of resignation to the will of God!</p> + +<p>“Then you will answer the letter at once?” she said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“And you will go to London?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, next week, I think.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 46]</span>“Next week! Why not this week? It’s only Monday.”</p> + +<p>“There is no need to hurry, Jemima. There might be some mistake. And it’s +as well to give the gentlemen time to prepare.”</p> + +<p>“Lawyers don’t make mistakes,” said Miss Jemima: “And as for preparing, +you may be sure they have done that already.”</p> + +<p>But nothing could induce “Cobbler” Horn to hasten his movements; and his +sister was fain to content herself with his promise to write to the +lawyers the next day, which he duly fulfilled.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 47]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>A STRANGE CLIENT FOR MESSRS. TONGS AND BALL.</strong></p> + + +<p>The day on which “Cobbler” Horn had proposed to the lawyers to pay them +his promised visit, was the following Monday, at three o’clock in the +afternoon, and by return of post there came a letter from the lawyers +assenting to the arrangement. During the week which intervened, “Cobbler” +Horn did not permit either himself or his sister to mention to a third +person the change his circumstances had undergone. Nor did he encourage +conversation between his sister and himself on the subject of his suddenly +acquired wealth. And neither his manner of life nor the ordering of his +house gave any indication of the altered position in which he was placed. +He did not permit the astounding news he had received to interfere with +the simple regularity of his life. Miss Jemima might have been inclined +to introduce into her domestic arrangements some outward and<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 48]</span> visible sign +of the altered fortunes of the house; but her brother’s will prevailed, +and all things continued as before. The “golden shoemaker” even continued +to work at his trade in the usual way. And all the time he was +thinking—thinking and praying; and many generous purposes, which +afterwards bore abundant fruit, began to germinate in his mind.</p> + +<p>At length the momentous day arrived, and “Cobbler” Horn travelled by +an early train to London, and, having dined frugally at a decent +eating-house, presented himself in due time at the offices of Messrs. +Tongs and Ball. The men of law were both seated in the room into which +their new client was shown. One of them was a very little, round, rosy, +middle-aged man, with an expression of countenance so cherubic that no +one would have suspected him of being a lawyer; and the other was a tall, +large-boned, parchment-faced personage, of whom almost any degree of +heartlessness might have been believed. The two lawyers rose and bowed +as “Cobbler” Horn was shown in.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Horn?”</p> + +<p>“Thomas Horn, at your service, gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>“This is Mr. Tongs,” said the tall lawyer with a waive of his hand towards +his rotund partner; “and I am Mr. Ball,” he added, drawing himself into an +attitude which caused him to look much more like a bat than a ball, and +speaking in a surprisingly agreeable tone. Upon this there was bowing all +around, and then a pause.</p> + +<p>“Pray take a seat, Mr. Horn,” besought Mr. Ball.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 49]</span>“Cobbler” Horn modestly obeyed.</p> + +<p>“And now, my dear sir,” said Mr. Ball, when he himself and his partner had +also resumed their seats, “let us congratulate you on your good fortune.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, gentlemen,” said “Cobbler” Horn gravely. “But the +responsibility is very great. I am only reconciled to it by the thought +that I shall now be able to do many things that I have long desired to +do.”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said Mr. Ball, “it is one of the gratifications of wealth that a man +is able to follow his bent—whether it be travelling, collecting pictures, +keeping horses, or what not.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” echoed Mr. Tongs.</p> + +<p>“No, no, gentlemen,” dissented “Cobbler” Horn, “I was thinking of the good +I shall now be able to do. But let us get to business; for I should be +sorry to waste your time.”</p> + +<p>Both lawyers protested. Waste their time! They could not be better +employed!</p> + +<p>“You are very kind, gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” was the candid reply.</p> + +<p>“You have come into a very large fortune, Mr. Horn,” continued Mr. Ball, +as he began to untie a bundle of documents. “You are worth very many +thousands; in fact you are almost a millionaire. I think I am right, Mr. +Tongs?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” assented Mr. Tongs, “oh yes, certainly.”</p> + +<p>“All the documents are here,” resumed Mr. Ball, as he surveyed a sea of +blue and white paper which covered the table; “and, with your permission,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 50]</span> +Mr. Horn, we will give you an account of their contents.”</p> + +<p>The lawyer then proceeded to give his client a statement of the +particulars of the fortune of which he had so unexpectedly become +possessed.</p> + +<p>“We hope, Mr. Horn,” he said, in conclusion, “that you may do us the +honour to continue the confidence reposed in us by your late uncle.”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, sir?” said “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“I ventured to hope that my partner and I might be so fortunate as to +retain the management of your affairs. I believe you will find that +since—”</p> + +<p>“Oh yes, of course,” “Cobbler” Horn hastened to interpose. He had not +dreamt of making any change. The lawyers bowed their thanks.</p> + +<p>“May we now ask,” said Mr. Ball, “whether you have any special commands?”</p> + +<p>“I think there are one or two requests I should like to make. I have a +sister, and I believe my uncle left another nephew.”</p> + +<p>“A sad scrapegrace, my dear sir,” interposed Mr. Ball, whose keen legal +instinct gave him some scent of what was coming next.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn held up his hand.</p> + +<p>“Can you tell me, gentlemen, whether there are any other relatives of my +uncle’s who are still alive?”</p> + +<p>“We have every reason to believe that there are not.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, then, I wish my uncle’s property to be divided into three +equal portions. One third I desire to have made over to my sister, and +another to<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 51]</span> be reserved for my cousin. The remaining portion I will retain +myself.”</p> + +<p>“But, my dear sir,” cried Mr. Ball, “the whole of the property is legally +yours!”</p> + +<p>“True,” was the quiet reply; “but the law cannot make that right which is +essentially wrong, and my sister and cousin are as much entitled to my +uncle’s money as I am myself.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Ball was dumfounded.</p> + +<p>“My dear sir,” he gasped, “this is very strange!”</p> + +<p>But “Cobbler” Horn was firm.</p> + +<p>“You will find this scapegrace cousin of mine?” he asked.</p> + +<p>The lawyers said they would do their best; and, when some further +arrangements had been made, with regard to the property, “Cobbler” Horn +took his departure, leaving his two legal advisers to assure one another, +as they stood together on the hearthrug, that he was the strangest client +they had known.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 52]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>MISS JEMIMA IS VERY MUCH ASTONISHED.</strong></p> + + +<p>Miss Jemima Horn was sufficiently curious as to the result of her +brother’s visit to the lawyers, to render her restlessly eager for his +return. He came back the same night. He had work to finish in the cobbling +line; and besides he had no fancy for any bed but his own.</p> + +<p>After supper, the brother and sister sat down before the fire, for the +talk to which Miss Jemima had been looking forward all day long.</p> + +<p>“Well, brother,” she queried, “I suppose you’ve heard all about it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, in a general way.”</p> + +<p>“And what is the amount?”</p> + +<p>“I’m almost afraid to say. The gentlemen said little short of a million!”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima threw up her hands with a little jerk of wonder, and gazed at +her brother with incredulous surprise.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 53]</span>“Where is it all?” was her next enquiry.</p> + +<p>“Some in England, and some in America.”</p> + +<p>“It’s not all in money, of course?” she asked, in doubtful tones.</p> + +<p>“No,” said her brother, opening his eyes: “it’s in all sorts of ways. A +great deal of it is in house property. There’s one whole village—or +nearly so.”</p> + +<p>“A whole village!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, the village of Daisy Lane. It was the family home at one time, you +know.”</p> + +<p>This was true. The village of Daisy Lane, in a Midland county, had been +the cradle of the race of Horn. “Cobbler” Horn and his sister, however, +had never visited the ancestral village.</p> + +<p>“Well?” queried Miss Jemima.</p> + +<p>“Well, uncle had a fancy for owning the village; so he bought it up bit +by bit.”</p> + +<p>“Only to think!” exclaimed Miss Jemima. “And what else is there?”</p> + +<p>“Well, there’s money in all sorts of forms that I understand very little +about.”</p> + +<p>“It’s simply wonderful!” declared Miss Jemima.</p> + +<p>“And then there’s the old hall at Daisy Lane. Uncle meant to end his days +there; but God has ordered otherwise, you see.”</p> + +<p>“And you will go to live there?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered her brother, slowly; “I think not, Jemima.”</p> + +<p>“But——”</p> + +<p>“Sister, I don’t think we should be happy in<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 54]</span> a grand house—at any rate +not all at once. But there’s something else I want to talk about.”</p> + +<p>Of late years the ascendancy had completely passed from Miss Jemima to her +brother; and now, though she would fain have talked further about the old +family mansion, she submissively turned her attention to what her brother +was about to say.</p> + +<p>“It is probable, Jemima,” he begun, “that there has never been a rich man +who had so few relatives to whom to leave his wealth as had our uncle.”</p> + +<p>“Yes: father and Uncle Ira were the only members of Uncle Jacob’s family +who ever married; and the brothers and sisters are all dead now. We are +almost alone in the world.”</p> + +<p>“Except one cousin, you know,” said “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“You mean Uncle Ira’s scapegrace, Jack. But no one knows where he is. He +may be dead for all we know.”</p> + +<p>Somehow Miss Jemima did not seem to desire that there should be any other +relatives of her uncle to the front, just now, but her brother and +herself.</p> + +<p>“If Jack is dead,” said “Cobbler” Horn, “there will be no more to say. But +if he is alive, he must have his share of uncle’s money; and I have left +it with the legal gentlemen to find him if they can.”</p> + +<p>“Thomas,” protested Miss Jemima, “do you think it would be right to hand +over uncle’s hard-earned money to that poor wastrel?”</p> + +<p>“His right to the money, Jemima, is as good as ours.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 55]</span>“Perhaps so; but I feel convinced that uncle would not have wished for any +part of his money to go to Jack. It would be like flinging it into the +sea.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but that cuts both ways, Jemima. Uncle would never have willed his +money to me, any more than to Jack. But God has given it to me, and I mean +to use it in the way of which I believe He will approve.”</p> + +<p>“And that is not all,” he hastily resumed. “I have another relative;” and +he directed a look of loving significance towards his sister’s face. “Do +you think that, if I admit the claim of our poor scapegrace cousin to a +share of our uncle’s money, I shall overlook the right of the dear sister +who has been my stay and comfort all these sorrowing years?”</p> + +<p>“But—but——” began Miss Jemima, in bewildered tones.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you are to have your share too, Jemima.”</p> + +<p>“But, brother I don’t desire it. If you have the money, it’s all the same +as though I had it myself.”</p> + +<p>With all her severity, there was not an atom of selfishness in Miss Jemima +Horn.</p> + +<p>“It’s all arranged,” was her brother’s reply. “I instructed the lawyers to +divide the property into three equal portions.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima, supposing that an arrangement with the lawyers was like the +laws of the Medes and Persians, which “altered not,” felt compelled to +submit; but it was with the understanding that her brother took entire +management of her portion of the money, as well as his own.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 56]</span>There was little further talk between “Cobbler” Horn and his sister that +evening. Their early bed-time had arrived; and “Cobbler” Horn, having +read a chapter in the Bible, offered a fervent prayer, in which he asked +earnestly that his sister and himself might receive grace to use rightly +the great wealth which had been entrusted to their charge.</p> + +<p>“If we should prove unfaithful, Lord,” he said, “take it from us as +suddenly as Thou hast given it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, brother,” cried Miss Jemima, as they were going up to bed, “some +letters came for you this morning.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn took the four or five letters, which his sister was holding +out to him, with a bewildered air.</p> + +<p>“Are they really for me?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Small doubt of that,” said Miss Jemima.</p> + +<p>The opening of letters was, as yet, to “Cobbler” Horn, a ceremony to be +performed with care. He drew a chair to the table, and deliberately took +his seat. He took up the first letter, and, having read it slowly through, +placed it in Miss Jemima’s eager hand. It was a request, from a “gentleman +in distress,” for a loan of twenty pounds—a “trifle” to the possessor of +so much wealth, but, to the writer “a matter of life or death.”</p> + +<p>“This will never do!” pronounced Miss Jemima; and the lady’s lips emitted +a gentle whistling sound.</p> + +<p>“How soon it seems to have got wind!” exclaimed “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“It’s been in the papers, no doubt.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 57]</span>“So it has,” he said; “I saw it myself in a newspaper that I bought this +evening, to read in the train. It called me the ‘Golden Shoemaker.’”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” cried Miss Jemima. “I’ve no doubt it will go the round.” The good +lady was not greatly averse to such a pleasant publication of the family +name.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she resumed, “what do the other letters say?”</p> + +<p>They were all similar to the first. One was from a man who had invented a +new boot sewing-machine, and would take out a patent; another purported to +came from a widow with six young children, and begged for a little—ever +so little—timely help: and the other two were appeals on behalf of +religious institutions.</p> + +<p>“Penalty of wealth!” remarked Miss Jemima, as she took the letters from +her brother’s hand.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I must answer them to-morrow,” groaned “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Answer them!” exclaimed Miss Jemima. “If you take my advice, you’ll throw +them into the fire. There will be plenty more of the same sort soon. +Though,” she added thoughtfully, “you’ll have to read your letters, I +suppose; for there’ll be some you’ll be obliged to answer.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said “Cobbler” Horn quietly, as they turned to the stairs, “we +shall see.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 58]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>“COBBLER” HORN ANSWERS HIS LETTERS, AND RECEIVES THE CONGRATULATIONS OF +HIS FRIENDS.</strong></p> + + +<p>When, after a somewhat troubled night, “Cobbler” Horn came down next +morning, his attention was arrested by the letters lying, as he had left +them, on the table, the night before.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, in answer to his thoughts; “I think I’ll deal with them +straight away.” So saying, he drew a chair to the table, and, having found +a few sheets of time-stained note paper, together with a penny bottle of +ink, and an old crippled pen, he sat down to his unwelcome task. The +undertaking proved even more troublesome than he had thought it would be. +The pen persisted in sputtering at almost every word; and when, at crucial +points, he took special pains to make the writing legible, the too +frequent result was an indecipherable blotch of ink. When<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 59]</span> the valiant +scribe had wrestled with his uncongenial task for half an hour or more, +his sister came upon the scene. Quietly she stepped across the floor.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” she exclaimed, peeping over her brother’s shoulder, “so you are +answering them already!”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn started, and a huge blot fell from his pen into the midst +of his half-finished letter.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I shall not be able to send this, now,” he said, with a +patient sigh.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Miss Jemima, laconically, “I’m afraid not. You are writing to +the ‘widow,’ I see; and you are promising her some help. That’s very well. +But, in nine cases out of ten, what strangers say of themselves requires +confirmation—especially if they are beggars; so don’t you think that, +before sending money to this ‘widow,’ it would be as well to ask for +the name of some reliable person who will vouch for the truth of her +statements? You must not forget, what you often say, you know, that you +are the steward of your Lord’s goods.”</p> + +<p>This was an argument which was sure to prevail with “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“No doubt you are right, Jemima,” he said; “and, however reluctantly, I +must take your advice.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” said Miss Jemima.</p> + +<p>“You haven’t answered the other letters?” she then asked, with a glance +over the table.</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Well, hadn’t you better put them away now, and get to your work? After +breakfast you must get<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 60]</span> a new pen and a fresh bottle of ink. Then we’ll +see what we can do together.”</p> + +<p>In an emergency which demanded the exercise of the practical good sense, +of which she had so large a share, Miss Jemima regained, to some extent, +her old ascendency over her brother. He quietly gathered up his letters, +and, placing them on the chimney-piece, retired to his workshop.</p> + +<p>At breakfast-time Miss Jemima’s prognostication began to receive +fulfilment in the arrival of the postman with another batch of letters. +This time the number had increased to something like a dozen. Having +received them from the hands of the postman, “Cobbler” Horn carried them +towards his sister with a somewhat comical air of dismay.</p> + +<p>“So many!” exclaimed she. “Your cares are accumulating fast. You will have +to engage a secretary. Well, we’ll look at them by and bye.”</p> + +<p>Scarcely was breakfast over than there came a modest knock at the door, +which, on being opened by Miss Jemima, revealed the presence of the elder +of the little twin hucksters, who still carried on business across the +way.</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima drew herself up like a sentry; and little Tommy Dudgeon, +finding himself confronted by this formidable lady, would have beaten +a hasty retreat. But it was too late.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he began humbly; “I came to see your brother.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” was the lady’s lofty reply. “My brother has much business +on hand.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 61]</span>“No doubt, ma’am; but—but—”</p> + +<p>At this point “Cobbler” Horn himself came to the door, and Miss Jemima +retreated into the house.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Tommy,” said “Cobbler” Horn heartily, “step in.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Horn,” was the modest reply, “I’m afraid I can’t. Business +presses, you know. But I’ve just come to congratulate you if I may make so +bold. Brother would have come too; but he’s minding the twins. It’s +washing day, you see. He’ll pay his respects another time.”</p> + +<p>John Dudgeon had been married for some years, and amongst the troubles +which had varied for him the joys of that blissful state, there had +recently come the crowning calamity of twins—an affliction which would +seem to have run in the Dudgeon family.</p> + +<p>“We are glad you have inherited this vast wealth, Mr. Horn,” said Tommy +Dudgeon. “We think the arrangement excellent. The ways of Providence are +indeed wonderful.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn made suitable acknowledgment of the congratulations of his +humble little friend.</p> + +<p>“There is only one thing we regret,” resumed the little man; “and that is +that your change of fortune will remove you to another sphere.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn smiled.</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” he said, “we shall see.”</p> + +<p>Whereupon Tommy Dudgeon, feeling comforted, he scarcely knew why, said +“Good morning” and ambled back to his shop.</p> + +<p>About the middle of the morning “Cobbler” Horn<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 62]</span> and his sister sat down to +deal with the letters. First they glanced at those which had arrived that +morning, and then laid them aside for the time, until, in fact, they had +dealt with those previously received. First came that of the assumed +widow, to which Miss Jemima induced her brother to write a cautious reply, +asking for a reference. To the man who asked for the loan of twenty +pounds, Miss Jemima would have sent no reply at all; but “Cobbler” Horn +insisted that a brief but courteous note should be sent to him, expressing +regret that the desired loan could not be furnished. It did not need the +persuasion of his sister to induce “Cobbler” Horn to decline all dealings +with the importunate inventor; but it was with great difficulty that she +could dissuade him from making substantial promises to the religious +institutions from which he had received appeals.</p> + +<p>“I think I shall consult the minister about such cases,” he said.</p> + +<p>The investigation of the second batch of letters was postponed until the +afternoon.</p> + +<p>During the morning, and at intervals throughout the day, others of +“Cobbler” Horn’s neighbours came to offer their congratulations, and were +astonished to find him seated on his cobbler’s stool, and quietly plying +his accustomed task. To their remonstrances he would reply, “You see this +work is promised; and if I am rich, I must keep my word. And then the +habits of a lifetime are not to be given up in a day. And, to be honest +with you, friends, I am<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 63]</span> in no haste to make the change. I love my work, +and would as lief be sitting on this stool as anywhere else in the world.”</p> + +<p>There came some of his poorer customers, who greatly bewailed what they +regarded as his inevitable removal from their midst. They could not +congratulate him as heartily as they desired. They would rather he had +remained the poor, kind-hearted, Christian cobbler whom they had always +known. Many a pair of boots had he mended free of charge for customers who +could ill afford to pay; not a few were the small debts of poor but honest +debtors which he had forgiven; and not seldom had clandestine gifts of +money or food found their way from his hands to one or another of these +regretful congratulators. Perceiving the grief upon the faces of his +friends, “Cobbler” Horn contrived, by means of various hints, to let them +know that he would still be their friend, and to remind them that his +enrichment would conduce to their more effectual help at his hands.</p> + +<p>On one point all his visitors were agreed. Great wealth, they said, could +not have come to any one by whom it was more thoroughly deserved, or who +would put it to a better use. “The Lord,” affirmed one quaint individual, +“knew what He was about this time, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, “Cobbler” Horn and his sister set about the task of +answering the second batch of letters. They were all, with one exception, +of a similar character to those of the first. The<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 64]</span> exception proved to be +a badly-written, ill-spelled, but evidently sincere, homily on the dangers +of wealth, and ended with a fierce warning of the dire consequences of +disregarding its admonition. It was signed simply—“A friend.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll burn that, I should think!” was Miss Jemima’s scornful comment on +this ill-judged missive.</p> + +<p>“No,” said “Cobbler” Horn, putting the letter into his breast pocket; “I +shall keep it. It was well meant, and will do me good.”</p> + +<p>By tea-time their task was finished; and “Cobbler” Horn heaved a sigh of +relief as he rose from his seat. But just then the postman knocked at the +door, and handed in another and still larger supply of letters, at the +sight of which the “Golden Shoemaker” staggered back aghast. The fame of +his fortune had indeed got wind.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” exclaimed his sister, who was setting the tea-things, “you’ll have +to engage a secretary, as I said.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 65]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>“COBBLER” HORN PAYS A VISIT TO HIS LANDLORD.</strong></p> + + +<p>The day following his trip to London “Cobbler” Horn paid a visit to his +landlord. His purpose was to buy the house in which he lived. Though he +realized that he must now take up his actual abode in a house more suited +to his altered circumstances, he wished to retain the possession and use +of the one in which he had lived so long. The humble cottage was endeared +to him by many ties. Here the best part of his life had been passed. Here +his brief but blissful married life had been spent, and here his precious +wife had died. Of this house his darling little Marian had been the light +and joy; and her blithe and loving spirit seemed to haunt it still. These +memories, reinforced by a generous purpose on behalf of the poor +neighbours whom he had been wont to help, decided him to endeavour to make +the house absolutely his own.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 66]</span>“Cobbler” Horn did not tell his sister of his intention with regard to the +house. He simply said, after breakfast, that he was going out for an hour; +and, though Miss Jemima looked at him very hard, she allowed him to depart +unquestioned.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn’s landlord who was reputed to be enormously rich, lived in +one of the most completely hidden parts of the town, which was approached +by a labyrinth of very narrow and dirty streets. As “Cobbler” Horn pursued +his tortuous way to this secluded abode, he pondered, with some misgiving, +the chances that his errand would succeed. He knew his landlord to be a +man of stubborn temper and of many whims; and he was by no means confident +as to the reception with which his intended proposal would meet. It was +characteristic that, as he thought of the difficulties of his enterprise, +he prayed earnestly that, if God willed, he might obtain the gratification +of his present desire. Then, with growing confidence and quickened step, +he proceeded on his way, until, at length, he stood before his landlord’s +house.</p> + +<p>The house was a low, dingy building of brick, which stood right across the +end of a squalid street, and completely blocked the way. Over the door was +a grimy sign-board, on which could faintly be distinguished the vague yet +comprehensive legend:</p> + +<p class="center">“D<span class="gesperrt">.FROUD</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dealer</span>.”</p> + +<p>The paint upon the crazy door was blistered and had peeled off in huge +mis-shapen patches; the <span class='pagenum'>[Pg 67]</span>door-step was almost worn in two; the windows +were dim with the dust of many years.</p> + +<p>The door was opened by a withered crone, who, to his question whether Mr. +Froud was in, answered in an injured tone, “Yes, he was in; he always +was;” and, as she spoke, she half-pushed the visitor into a room on the +left side of the entrance, and vanished from the scene. The room was very +dark, and it was some time before “Cobbler” Horn could observe the nature +of his surroundings. But, by degrees, as his eyes became accustomed to the +gloom, he perceived that the centre of the apartment was occupied with an +old mahogany table, covered with a litter of books and papers. There stood +against the wall opposite to the window an ancient and dropsical chest of +drawers. Facing the door was a fire-place, brown with rust, innocent of +fire-irons, and piled up with heterogeneous rubbish. The walls and +chimney-piece were utterly devoid of ornaments. The paper on the walls +was torn and soiled, and even hung in strips. On the chimney-piece were +several empty ink and gum bottles, an old ruler, and a further assortment +of similar odds and ends. The only provision for the comfort of visitors +consisted of two battered wooden chairs.</p> + +<p>At first “Cobbler” Horn thought he was alone; but, the next moment, he +heard himself sharply addressed, though not by name.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s not rent day yet. What’s your errand?”</p> + +<p>It was a snarling voice, and came from the corner between the window and +fire-place, peering in which<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 68]</span> direction, “Cobbler” Horn perceived dimly +the figure of the man he had come to see. Mr. Daniel Froud had turned +around from a high desk at which he had been writing in the gloom. How he +contrived to see in so dark a corner was a mystery which belonged to the +wider question as to the penetrating power of vision in general which he +was known to possess. The small boys of the neighbourhood declared that he +could see in the dark like a cat. He now moved a step nearer to “Cobbler” +Horn, and stood revealed, an elderly, and rather undersized, grizzled, +gnarled, and knotted man, dressed in shabby and antiquated clothes.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Mr. Froud,” said “Cobbler” Horn, extending his hand, “I’ve +come to see you on a little business.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you have,” was the angry retort; and taking no notice of his +visitor’s proffered hand, the man stamped his foot impatiently on the +uncarpeted floor. “No one ever comes to see me about anything else but +business. And I don’t want them to,” he added with a grim chuckle. “Well, +let us get it done. My time is valuable, if yours is not.”</p> + +<p>“My time also is not without value,” was the prompt reply. “I want to ask +you, Mr. Froud, if you will sell me the house in which I live.”</p> + +<p>If Daniel Froud was surprised, he completely concealed the fact.</p> + +<p>“If I would sell it,” was his coarse rejoinder, “you, ‘Cobbler’ Horn, +would not be able to buy it.”</p> + +<p>“I am well able to buy the house, Mr. Froud,” was the quiet response.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 69]</span>Daniel Froud keenly scrutinized his visitor’s face.</p> + +<p>“I believe you think you are telling the truth,” he said. “Mending +pauper’s boots and shoes must be a profitable business, then?”</p> + +<p>“I have had some money left to me,” said “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>The interest of Daniel Froud was awakened at once.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he exclaimed, “that is it, is it? But sit down, Mr. Horn,” and the +grizzled reprobate pushed towards his visitor, who had hitherto remained +standing, one of his rickety and dust-covered chairs.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn looked doubtfully at the proffered seat, and said that he +preferred to stand.</p> + +<p>“If you are willing to sell me the house, Mr. Froud,” he said, “name your +price. It is not my intention to waste your time.”</p> + +<p>Daniel Froud still pondered. It was no longer a question whether he should +sell “Cobbler” Horn the house: he was beginning already to consider how +much he should ask for it.</p> + +<p>“So you really wish to buy the house, Mr. Horn?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Such is my desire.”</p> + +<p>“And you think you can pay the price?”</p> + +<p>“I have little doubt on that point.”</p> + +<p>“Well”—with a sudden jerk forward of his forbidding face—“what do you +say to £600?”</p> + +<p>Unsophisticated as he was, “Cobbler” Horn felt that the proposal was +exorbitant.</p> + +<p>“You are surely joking?” he said.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 70]</span>“You think the price too small?”</p> + +<p>“I consider it much too large.”</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps I was joking, as you said. What do you think of £500?”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid even that is too much. I’ll give you £450.”</p> + +<p>Daniel Froud hesitated for some minutes, but at last said, “Well, I’ll +take your offer, Mr. Horn; but it’s a dreadful sacrifice.”</p> + +<p>A few minutes sufficed to complete the agreement; and then, in taking his +departure, “Cobbler” Horn administered a word of admonition to his +grasping landlord.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know, friend,” he said, “that it is a grievous sin to try to +sell anything for more than it is worth? And how contemptible it is to be +so greedy of money! It does not seem to me that money is to be so eagerly +desired, and especially if it does one no more good than yours seems to be +doing you. Good morning, friend; and God give you repentance.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Froud had listened open-mouthed to this plain-spoken homily. When he +came to himself, he darted forward, and aimed a blow with his fist, which +just failed to strike the back of his visitor, who was in the act of +leaving the room.</p> + +<p>Confronting him in the doorway was the old crone who kept his house.</p> + +<p>“Was that Horn, the shoemaker?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, woman.”</p> + +<p>“Horn as has just come into the fortune?”</p> + +<p>“Well—somewhat.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 71]</span>“‘Somewhat!’ It’s said to be about a million of money! Look here!” and she +showed him a begrimed and crumpled scrap of newspaper, containing a full +account of “Cobbler” Horn’s fortune.</p> + +<p>With a cry, Daniel Froud seized the woman, and shook her till it almost +seemed as though the bones rattled in her skin.</p> + +<p>“You hell-cat! Why didn’t you tell me that before?”</p> + +<p>The wretched creature fell back panting against the door on the opposite +side of the passage.</p> + +<p>“Daniel Froud,” she said, when she had sufficiently recovered her breath, +“the next time you do that I shall give you notice.”</p> + +<p>With which dreadful threat, she gathered herself together, and hobbled +back to her own quarter of the dingy house, leaving Mr. Froud to bemoan +the absurdly easy terms he had made with “the Golden Shoemaker.”</p> + +<p>“If I had only known!” he moaned; “if I had only known!”</p> + +<p>That evening “Cobbler” Horn told his sister what he had done, and why he +had done it; and she held up her hands in dismay.</p> + +<p>“First,” she said, “I don’t see why you should have bought the house at +all; and, secondly, you have paid far more for it than it is worth.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 72]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>FREE COBBLERY.</strong></p> + + +<p>“I suppose you’ll be looking out for a tenant for this house, when you’ve +found somewhere for us to go?” queried Miss Jemima, at breakfast the next +morning.</p> + +<p>“Well, no,” replied her brother, “I think not.” “Why,” cried Miss Jemima, +“I hope we are not to go on living in this poky little place!”</p> + +<p>“No, that is not exactly my intention, either,” said “Cobbler” Horn. “We +must, I suppose, remove to another house. But I wish this one to remain +very much as it is; I shall want to use it sometimes.”</p> + +<p>“Want to use it sometimes!” echoed Miss Jemima, in a mystified tone.</p> + +<p>“Yes; you see I don’t feel that I can give up my lifelong employment all +at once. So I’ve been thinking that I’ll come to the old workshop, now and +then, and do a bit of cobbling just for a change.”</p> + +<p>Here he paused, and moved uneasily in his chair.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 73]</span>“It wouldn’t do to charge anything for my work now, of course,” he +continued; “so I’ve made up my mind to do little bits of jobs, now and +again, without any pay, for some of the poor people round about, just for +the sake of old times, you know.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima’s hands went up with their accustomed movement of dismay.</p> + +<p>“Why, that will never do,” she cried. “You’ll have all the thriftless +loons in the town bringing you their boots and shoes to mend.”</p> + +<p>“I must guard against that,” was the quiet reply.</p> + +<p>“Well,” continued Miss Jemima, in an aggrieved tone, “I altogether +disapprove of your continuing to work as if you were a poor man. But you +ought, at least, to make a small charge. Otherwise you will be imposed +upon all round.”</p> + +<p>Finding, however, that she could not move her brother from his purpose, +Miss Jemima relinquished the attempt.</p> + +<p>“Well, Thomas,” she concluded, “you can never have been intended for this +world and its ways. There is probably a vacancy in some quite different +one which you ought to have filled.”</p> + +<p>The next few days were largely spent in house hunting; and, after careful +investigation, and much discussion, they decided to take, for the present, +a pleasantly situated detached villa, which stood on the road leading out +past the field where, so many years ago, “Cobbler” Horn had found his +little lost<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 74]</span> Marian’s shoe. The nearness of the house to this spot had +induced him, in spite of his sister’s protest, to prefer it to several +otherwise more eligible residences; and he was confirmed in his decision +by the fact that the villa was no great distance from the humble dwelling +he was so reluctant to leave. They were to have possession at once; and +Miss Jemima was permitted to plunge without delay into the delights of +buying furniture, engaging servants, and such like fascinating concerns.</p> + +<p>During these busy days, “Cobbler” Horn himself was absorbed in the +arrangements for the rehabilitation of his old workshop. He subjected it +to a complete renovation, in keeping with its character and use. A new +tile floor, a better window, a fresh covering of whitewash on the walls, +and a new coat of paint for the wood-work, effected a transformation as +agreeable as it was complete. He kept the old stool; but procured a new +and modern set of tools, and furnished himself with a stock of the best +leather the market could supply.</p> + +<p>He had no difficulty in letting his poor customers know of his charitable +designs, and he soon had as much work as he could do. As his sister had +warned him, he had many applications from those who were unworthy of his +help. He did not like to turn any of the applicants away; but he did so +remorselessly in every instance in which, after careful investigation, the +case broke down, his chief regret being that his gratuitous services were +rarely<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 75]</span> sought by those who needed them most. But this is to anticipate.</p> + +<p>It was in connection with what was regarded as the <em>quixotic</em> undertaking +of Miss Jemima’s brother to mend, free of charge, the boots and shoes of +his poor neighbours, that he soon became generally known as “Cobbler” +Horn.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 76]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>“THE GOLDEN SHOEMAKER” WAITS UPON HIS MINISTER.</strong></p> + + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn’s correspondence was steadily accumulating. Every day +brought fresh supplies of letters; and the humble cottage was in danger +of being swamped by an epistolary inundation, which was the despair of +“Cobbler” Horn, and a growing vexation to his sister’s order-loving soul.</p> + +<p>For some time “the Golden Shoemaker” persisted valiantly in his attempt to +answer every letter he received. Miss Jemima’s scornful disapproval was of +no avail. In vain she declared her conviction that every other letter was +an imposture or a hoax, and pointed out that, if people wanted their +letters answered, they ought to enclose a stamp. Then, for the twentieth +time, she repeated her suggestion that a secretary should be engaged. At +first her brother waived this proposal aside; but at length it became<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 77]</span> +imperative that help should be sought. “Cobbler” Horn was like a man who +attempts, single-handed, to cut his way through a still-accumulating +snow-drift. The man must perish, if help do not come; unless “Cobbler” +Horn secured assistance in dealing with his letters, it was impossible to +tell what his fate might be. It was now simply a question by what means +the needed help might best be obtained; and both “Cobbler” Horn and his +sister agreed that the wisest thing would be to consult the minister of +their church. This, accordingly, “Cobbler” Horn resolved to do.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn’s minister officiated in a sanctuary such as was formerly +called a “chapel,” but is now, more frequently designated a “church.” His +name was Durnford; and he was a man of strongly-marked individuality—a +godly, earnest, shrewd, and somewhat eccentric, minister of the Gospel. He +was always accessible to his people in their trouble or perplexity, and +they came to him without reserve. But surely his advice had never been +sought concerning difficulties so peculiar as those which were about to +be laid before him by “Cobbler” Horn!</p> + +<p>It was about ten o’clock on the Monday morning following his visit to the +lawyers, that “Cobbler” Horn sat in Mr. Durnford’s study, waiting for the +minister to appear. He had not long to wait. The door opened, and Mr. +Durnford entered. He was a middle-aged man of medium height, with keen yet +kindly features, and hair and beard of iron grey. He greeted his visitor +with unaffected cordiality.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 78]</span>“I’ve come to ask your advice, sir, under circumstances of some +difficulty,” said “Cobbler” Horn, when they were seated facing each other +before a cheerful fire.</p> + +<p>This being a kind of appeal to which he was accustomed, the minister +received the announcement calmly enough.</p> + +<p>“Glad to help you, if I can, Mr. Horn,” he said.</p> + +<p>There was a breeziness about Mr. Durnford which at once afforded +preliminary refreshment to such troubled spirits as sought his counsel.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said “Cobbler” Horn, “I’m sure you will. You have heard +of the sudden and unexpected——”</p> + +<p>“To be sure!” broke in the minister, leaping to his feet, and grasping his +visitor’s hand, “Pardon me; I quite forgot. Let me congratulate you. Of +course it’s true?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, thank you; it’s true—too true, I’m afraid.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Durnford laughed.</p> + +<p>“How if I were to commiserate you, then?” he said.</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said “Cobbler” Horn gravely, “not that either. It’s the Lord’s +will after all; and it’s a great joy to me to be able to do so much that I +have long wished to do. It’s the responsibility that I feel.”</p> + +<p>“Very good,” replied the minister; “such joy is the purest pleasure wealth +can give. But the responsibility of such a position as yours, is, no +doubt, as you say, very great.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 79]</span>“Yes, sir; I feel that I hold all this wealth in trust from God; and I +want to be a faithful steward. I am resolved to use my Lord’s money +exactly as I believe He desires that I should—in fact as He Himself +would use it, if He were in my place.”</p> + +<p>“Excellent, Mr. Horn!” exclaimed the minister; “you have spoken like a +Christian.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir. But there’s another thing; it seems so dreadful that +one man should have so much money. Do you know, sir, I’m almost a +millionaire?”</p> + +<p>He made this announcement in very much the same tone in which he would +have informed the minister that he was stricken with some dire disease.</p> + +<p>“Is your trouble so great as that?” asked Mr. Durnford, in mock dismay.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; and it’s a very serious matter indeed. It doesn’t seem right +for me to be so rich, while so many have too little, and not a few nothing +at all.”</p> + +<p>“That can soon be rectified,” said Mr. Durnford.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps so, sir; though it may not be so easy as you suppose. But there’s +another matter that troubles me. I can’t think that this great wealth has +been all acquired by fair means. Indeed I have only too much reason to +suspect that it was not. I feel ashamed that some of the money which my +uncle made should have become mine. I feel as though a curse were on it.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” exclaimed the minister, with a long-drawn sigh, “such feelings do +you credit, Mr. Horn; but don’t you see that God means you to turn that +curse into a blessing?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 80]</span>“Yes; and yet I am almost inclined to wish my uncle had taken his money +with him.”</p> + +<p>“Scarcely a charitable wish, from any point of view,” said Mr. Durnford, +smiling. “It seems to me that nothing could have been better than the +arrangement as it stands.”</p> + +<p>“Well, at any rate, I wish it were possible to restore their money to any +persons who may have been wronged.”</p> + +<p>“A laudible, but impossible wish, my dear sir; but, though you cannot +restore your uncle’s wealth to those from whom it may have been wrongfully +acquired, you can, in some measure, make atonement for the evil involved +in its acquisition, by employing it for the benefit of those in general +who suffer and are in need.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” assented “Cobbler” Horn, with emphasis; “if I thought otherwise, +every coin of the money that I handled would scorch my fingers to the +bone.”</p> + +<p>After this there was a brief silence, and the minister sat back in his +chair, with closed eyes, smiling gently.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” he said, in another moment, starting forward, “I have +been thinking of all the good that might be done, if every rich man were +like you. But you came to ask my advice?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” replied “Cobbler” Horn; “and I am keeping you too long.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all, my dear sir! Your visit has refreshed me greatly. Your talk +is like a cool breeze on a hot day. It is not often that a millionaire +comes<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 81]</span> to discuss with me the responsibilities of wealth. But let me hear +what the peculiar difficulty is of which you spoke.”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, there is a serious inconvenience involved in my new position, +with which I am quite unable to grapple.”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said the minister, raising his eye-brows, “what is that?”</p> + +<p>“Why it is just the number of letters I receive.”</p> + +<p>“Of course!” cried the minister, with twinkling eyes. “The birds of prey +will be upon you from every side; and your being a religious man will, by +no means, mitigate the evil.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, I have no doubt you are right, sir! And it’s a sort of compliment to +religion, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Of course it is,” said Mr. Durnford; “and a very beautiful way of looking +at it too.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir. Well, there are two sides to my difficulty. First I wish +to answer every letter I receive; but I cannot possibly do it myself.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said the minister. “But surely many of them need not be answered at +all.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, by your leave. My sister says that many of the letters are +probably impostures. But you see I cannot tell certainly which are of that +kind. She also points out that very few of them contain stamps for reply. +But I tell her that a few stamps, more or less, are of no moment to me +now.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” broke in the minister, “which more to admire—your +sister’s wisdom or your own goodness.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 82]</span>“Cobbler” Horn deprecatingly waved his hand.</p> + +<p>“Now, sir,” he resumed, “Jemima advises me to engage a secretary.”</p> + +<p>“Obviously,” assented the minister, “that is your best course.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it is, sir; but I am all at sea, and want your help.”</p> + +<p>“And you shall have it,” said the minister heartily. “There are scores of +young men—and young women too—who would jump at the chance of such a +post as that of your secretary would probably be.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir; but you said young <em>women</em>?”</p> + +<p>“Precisely. Young women often accept, and very efficiently fill, such +posts.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed? I don’t know how my sister——”</p> + +<p>“Of course not. But suppose we look for a moment at the other side of your +difficulty.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, sir; the other trouble is that I find it hard to decide +what answers to send to a good many of the letters. They are mostly +applications for money; and it’s not easy to tell whether they are +genuine. Then there are a great many appeals on behalf of all sorts of +good objects. May I venture to hope, sir, that you will give me your +advice in these matters?”</p> + +<p>“With pleasure!” replied Mr. Durnford, with sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir; thank you very much indeed,” said “Cobbler” Horn, greatly +relieved. “And will it be too much if I ask you to advise me, in due +course, as to the best way of making this money of<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 83]</span> my uncle’s do as much +good as possible, in a general way?”</p> + +<p>“By no means,” protested Mr. Durnford, “I am entirely at your service, my +dear sir. But now,” he added, after a pause, “I’ve been considering, and I +think I can find you a secretary.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! who is he, sir?”</p> + +<p>“It is she, not he.”</p> + +<p>“But, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know; but this is an exceptional young lady.”</p> + +<p>“A <em>young</em> lady?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, a capable, well-behaved, Christian young lady. I have known her for +a good many years, and would recommend her to anybody. I know she is +looking out for such a situation as this. She would serve you well—better +than any young man, I know—and would be a most agreeable addition to your +family circle. Besides, by engaging my friend, Miss Owen, you would be +affording help in a case of real need and sterling merit. The girl has no +parents, and has been brought up by some kind friends. But they are not +rich, and she will have to make her own way. Now, look here; suppose the +young lady were to run down and see you? She lives in Birmingham.”</p> + +<p>“Do you really think it would be advisable?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed I do. She’ll disarm Miss Horn at once. It’ll be a case of love at +first sight.”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, let it be as you say.”</p> + +<p>“Then I may write to her without delay?”</p> + +<p>“If you please, sir.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 84]</span>“Pray for me, Mr. Durnford,” said “Cobbler” Horn, as he took his leave.</p> + +<p>“I will, my friend,” was the hearty response.</p> + +<p>“It’s not often,” resumed “Cobbler” Horn, “that a Christian man is placed +in circumstances of such difficulty as mine.”</p> + +<p>The minister laughed heartily and long.</p> + +<p>“I really mean it, sir,” persisted “Cobbler” Horn, with a deprecatory +smile. “When I think of all that my having this money involves, I almost +wish the Lord had been pleased to leave me in my contented poverty.”</p> + +<p>“My dear friend,” said the minister, “that will not do at all. Depend upon +it, the joy of using your wealth for the Lord, and for His ‘little ones,’ +will far more than make up for the vanished delights of your departed +poverty.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 85]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>“COBBLER” HORN ENGAGES A SECRETARY.</strong></p> + + +<p>On his way home from the minister’s house, “Cobbler” Horn was somewhat +exercised in his mind as to how he should tell his sister what he had +done. He could inform her, without hesitation, that the minister had +recommended a secretary; but how should he make known the fact that the +commended secretary was a lady? He was not afraid of his sister; but he +preferred that she should approve of his doings, and he wished to render +his approaching announcement as little distasteful to her as might be. But +the difficulty of doing this would be great. It would have been hard to +imagine a communication likely to prove more unwelcome to Miss Jemima than +the announcement that her brother contemplated the employment of a lady +secretary. Nor was the difficulty of the situation relieved by the fact +that the lady was young, and possibly attractive. It<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 86]</span> would have been as +easy to impart a delectable flavour to a dose of castor-oil, as to render +agreeable to his sister the announcement he must immediately make. Long +before he reached home, he relinquished all attempt to settle the +difficulty which was agitating his mind. He would begin by telling his +sister that the minister had recommended a secretary, and then trust to +the inspiration of the moment for the rest.</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima, encompassed with a comprehensive brown apron, stood at the +table peeling the potatoes for dinner.</p> + +<p>“You’ve been a long time gone, Thomas,” she said complacently—for Miss +Jemima was in one of her most amiable moods.</p> + +<p>“Yes; we found many things to talk about.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what did he say on the secretary question?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he has recommended one to me who, he thinks, will do first-rate.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! and who is the young man? For of course he is young; all secretaries +are.”</p> + +<p>“The person lives in Birmingham,” was the guarded reply, “and goes by the +name of Owen.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima felt by instinct that her brother was keeping something back. +She shot at him a keen, swift glance, and then resumed the peeling of the +potato just then in hand, which operation she effected with such extreme +care, that it was a very attenuated strip of peeling which fell curling +from her knife into the brown water in the bowl beneath.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 87]</span>“What is this young man’s other name?” she calmly asked.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, I don’t know,” said “Cobbler” Horn, with a shrewd smile.</p> + +<p>“Just like you men!” whipped out Miss Jemima, pausing in her work; “but I +suppose, as the minister recommends him, it will be all right.”</p> + +<p>There was nothing for it now but a straightforward declaration of the +dreadful truth.</p> + +<p>“Jemima,” said “Cobbler” Horn, “I mustn’t mislead you. It’s not a young +man at all.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima let fall into the water, with a sudden flop, the potato she +was peeling, and faced her brother, knife in hand, with a look of wild +astonishment in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Not a young man!” she almost shrieked, “What then?”</p> + +<p>Her brother’s emphasis had been on the word <em>man</em>, and not on the word +<em>young</em>.</p> + +<p>“Well, my dear,” he replied, “a young——in fact, a young lady.”</p> + +<p>Up went Miss Jemima’s hands.</p> + +<p>“Thomas!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jemima; such is the minister’s suggestion.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima, who had resumed her work, proceeded to dig out the eye of a +potato with unwonted prodigality.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Durnford,” resumed “Cobbler” Horn, “tells me it is a common thing for +young ladies to be secretaries now-a-days; and he very highly recommended +this one in particular.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 88]</span>Miss Jemima knew, that if her brother’s mind was made up, it would be +useless to withstand his will.</p> + +<p>“When is she coming?” was all she said.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Mr. Durnford promised to write and ask her to come and see +us first. You shall talk with her yourself, Jemima; and, believe me, if +there is any good reason to object to the arrangement, she shall not be +engaged.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima permitted herself just one other word.</p> + +<p>“I am surprised at Mr. Durnford!” she said; and then the matter dropped.</p> + +<p>Two days later, in prompt response to the minister’s letter, Miss Owen +duly arrived. Mr. Durnford met her at the station, and conducted her to +the house of “Cobbler” Horn. He had sent her, in his letter, all needful +information concerning “Cobbler” Horn, and the circumstances which +rendered it necessary for him to engage a secretary.</p> + +<p>“They reside at present,” he said during the walk from the station, “in a +small house, but will soon remove to a larger one.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was busy in his workshop when they arrived; but Miss Jemima +was awaiting them in solitary state, in the front-room. The good lady had +meant to be forbidding and severe in her reception of the “forward minx,” +whom she had settled it in her mind the prospective secretary would prove +to be. But the moment her eyes beheld Miss Owen she was disarmed. The +dark-eyed, black-haired, modestly-attired, and even <span class='pagenum'>[Pg 89]</span>sober-looking girl, +who put out her hand with a very simple movement, and spoke, with +considerable self-possession truly, but certainly not with an impudent +air, bore but scant resemblance to the “brazen hussey” who had haunted +Miss Jemima’s mind for the past two days.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn came in from his workshop, and greeted the young girl with +an honest heartiness which placed her at her ease at once.</p> + +<p>With almost a cordial air, Miss Jemima invited the visitors to sit down. +As Miss Owen glanced a second time around the room, a look of perplexity +came into her face.</p> + +<p>“Do you know, Miss Horn,” she said, “your house seems quite familiar to +me. I almost feel as if I had been here before. Of course I never have. +It’s just one of those queer feelings everybody has sometimes, as if what +you are going through at the time had all taken place before.”</p> + +<p>She spoke out the thought of her mind with a simple impulsiveness which +had its own charm.</p> + +<p>“No doubt,” said Miss Jemima, with a start; but she was deterred from +further remark by Mr. Durnford’s rising from his seat.</p> + +<p>“I think I’ll leave you,” he said, “and call for Miss Owen in—say a +quarter of an hour. With your permission, Mr. Horn, she will sleep at +our house to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t go, sir,” said “Cobbler” Horn. “Your presence will be a help to +us on both sides.”</p> + +<p>It needed no further pursuasion to induce the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 90]</span> minister to remain: with +his assistance, “Cobbler” Horn soon came to terms with the young lady; +and, as, upon a hint conveyed in the letter she had received from the +minister, she had come to Cottonborough prepared, if necessary, to remain, +it was arranged that she should commence her duties on the following day.</p> + +<p>“And would it not be as well for her to come to us to-night?” asked +“Cobbler” Horn. “The sooner she begins to get used to us the better. And +she can still spend the evening with you, Mr. Durnford.”</p> + +<p>The minister looked enquiringly at Miss Owen,</p> + +<p>“What do you say, my dear?”</p> + +<p>“I am entirely in your hands, sir, and those of Mr. Horn.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Durnford, “if you really wish it. Mr. Horn, Miss Owen +shall come to you to-night.”</p> + +<p>And thus it was arranged.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 91]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>THE ATTACK ON THE CORRESPONDENCE.</strong></p> + + +<p>When “Cobbler” Horn’s secretary awoke next morning, she experienced a +return of the feeling of familiarity with her surroundings of which she +had been conscious on first entering the house. The little white-washed +bedroom, with its simple furniture, seemed like a vision of the past. +She had a dreamy impression that she had slept in this little white room +many times before. There was, in particular, a startling appearance of +familiarity in a certain picture which hung upon the wall, beyond the foot +of the bed. It was an old-fashioned coloured print, in a black frame, and +represented Jacob’s dream. For a long time she gazed at the picture. Then +she gave herself a shake, and sighed, and laughed a low, pathetic little +laugh.</p> + +<p>“What nonsense!” she thought. “As if I could ever have been here before, +or set eyes on the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 92]</span> picture! Though I may have seen one like it somewhere +else, to be sure.”</p> + +<p>Then she roused herself, and got out of bed. But when, having dressed, she +went downstairs, the same sense of familiarity with her surroundings +surged over her again. The boxed-up staircase seemed to her a not +untrodden way; and when she emerged in the kitchen at its foot, and saw +the round deal table spread for breakfast with its humble array, she +almost staggered at the familiarity of the scene.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was in his workshop, and Miss Jemima had gone into the +yard; and, as the young girl gazed around the humble room it seemed, in +some strange fashion, to have belonged to her past life. The very tap-tap +of “Cobbler” Horn’s hammer, coming cheerily from the workshop behind, +awoke weird echoes in her brain, and helped to render her illusion +complete.</p> + +<p>All breakfast-time she felt like one in a dream. She seemed to be drifting +into a new life, which was not new but old; and she almost felt as if she +had <em>come home</em>. She was utterly unable to imagine what might be the +explanation of this strange experience. She had not a glimmering of the +actual truth. She struggled against the feeling which possessed her, and +partly overcame it; but it returned again and again during her stay in the +house, though with diminished force.</p> + +<p>After breakfast, “Cobbler” Horn invited his secretary to attack the +accumulated mass of letters which waited for despatch.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 93]</span>“You see, Miss Owen,” he said in half-apology for asking her to begin work +so soon, “the pile gets larger every day; and, if we don’t do something to +reduce it at once, it will get altogether beyond bounds.”</p> + +<p>Miss Owen turned her sparkling dark eyes upon her employer.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Horn,” she exclaimed, as she took her seat at the table, “the +sooner we get to work the better! I did not come here to play, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn poured an armful of unanswered letters down upon the table, +in front of his ardent young secretary.</p> + +<p>“There’s a snow-drift for you, Miss Owen!” he said.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” was the cheery response, “we must do our best to clear +it away.”</p> + +<p>Miss Owen was already beginning to feel quite at home with “Cobbler” Horn; +and she even ventured at this point, to rally him on the dismay with which +he regarded his piles of letters.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think, sir,” she asked, with a radiant smile, “that a little +sunshine might help us?”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn started, and glanced towards the window. The morning was +dull.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said; “but we can’t command——” Then he perceived her meaning, +and broke off with a smile. “To be sure; you are right, Miss Owen. It is +wrong of me to be wearing such a gloomy face. But you see this kind of +thing is all so new and strange to me; and you need not wonder that I am +dismayed.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 94]</span>“No,” replied the secretary, with just the faintest little touch of +patronage in her tone; “it’s not surprising in your case. But I am not +dismayed. Answering letters has always been my delight.”</p> + +<p>“That’s well,” said “Cobbler” Horn, gravely; “And I think you will have +to supply a large share of the ‘sunshine’ too, Miss Owen.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll try,” she replied, simply, with a beaming smile; and she squared her +shapely arms, and bent her dusky head, and set to work with a will, while +“Cobbler” Horn, regarding her from the opposite side of the table, was +divided between two mysteries, which were, how she could write so fast and +well, and what it was which made him feel as if he had known her all his +life?</p> + +<p>Most of the letters contained applications for money. Some few were from +the representatives of well-known philanthropic societies; many others +were appeals on behalf of local charities or associations; and no small +proportion were the applications of individuals, who either had great +need, or were very cunning, or both.</p> + +<p>The private appeals were of great variety. “Cobbler” Horn was amazed to +find how many people were at the point of despair for want of just the +help that he was able to give. It was past belief how large a number of +persons he had the opportunity of saving from ruin, and with how small a +sum of money, in each case, it might be done.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 95]</span> What a manifold disclosure +of human misery and despair those letters were, or seemed to be! Some of +them, doubtless, had been written with breaking hearts, and punctuated +with tears; but which?</p> + +<p>“I had no idea there was so much trouble in the world!” cried “Cobbler” +Horn, in dismay.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps there is not quite so much as your letters seem to imply, sir,” +suggested the secretary.</p> + +<p>“You think not?” queried “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“I feel sure of it,” said the young girl, with a knowing shake of her +head. “But we must do our best to discriminate. I should throw some of +these letters into the fire at once, if I were you, Mr. Horn.”</p> + +<p>“But they must be answered first!”</p> + +<p>“Must they, sir? Every one?” enquired the secretary, arching her dark +eye-brows. “Why it will cost you a small fortune in stamps, Mr. Horn!”</p> + +<p>“But you forget how rich I am, Miss Owen. And I would rather be cheated a +thousand times, than withhold, in a single instance, the help I ought to +give.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Horn, I’m your secretary, and must obey your commands, whether +I approve of them or not.”</p> + +<p>She spoke with a merry trill of laughter; and “Cobbler” Horn, far from +being offended, shot back upon her a beaming smile.</p> + +<p>They took the letters as they came. Concerning some of the applications, +“Cobbler” Horn felt quite able to decide himself. Appeals from +duly-accredited philanthropic institutions received from him a liberal<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 96]</span> +response, and so large were some of the amounts that the young secretary +felt constrained to remonstrate.</p> + +<p>“You forget,” he replied, “how much money I’ve got.”</p> + +<p>“But—excuse me, sir—you seem resolved to give it all away!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, almost,” was the calm reply.</p> + +<p>There was but little difficulty, moreover, in dealing with the +applications on behalf of local interests. It was the private appeals +which afforded most trouble. Every case had to be strenuously debated with +Miss Owen, who maintained that not one of these importunate correspondents +ought to be assisted, until “Cobbler” Horn had satisfied himself that +the case was one of actual necessity, and real merit. By dint of great +persistency, she succeeded in convincing her employer that many of these +private appeals were not worthy of a moment’s consideration. To each of +the writers of these a polite note of refusal was to be despatched. With +regard to the rest, it was decided that an application for references +should be made.</p> + +<p>“I shall have to be your <em>woman</em> of business, Mr. Horn,” said Miss Owen, +“as well as your secretary; and, between us, I think we can manage.”</p> + +<p>She felt that there was a true Christian work for her in doing what she +could to help this poor embarrassed Christian man of wealth.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was enraptured with his secretary. She seemed to be fitting +herself into a vacant place in his life. It appeared the most natural +thing in the world that she should be there writing his letters. If<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 97]</span> his +little Marian had not gone from him years ago, she might have been his +secretary now. He sighed at the thought; and then, as he looked across at +the animated face of Miss Owen, as she bent over her work, and swept the +table with her abundant tresses, he was comforted in no small degree.</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima’s respect for the proprieties, rendered her reluctant to +absent herself much from the room where her brother and his engaging young +secretary sat together at their interesting work; and she manifested, from +time to time, a lively interest in the progress of their task.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 98]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>A PARTING GIFT FOR “THE LITTLE TWIN BRETHREN.”</strong></p> + + +<p>The honest joy of “the little twin brethren” at the sudden enrichment +of their friend, “Cobbler” Horn, was dashed with a deep regret. It was +excellent that he had been made a wealthy man. As Tommy Dudgeon expressed +it, “Providence had not made a mistake this time, anyhow.” But, in common +with the rest of “Cobbler” Horn’s neighbours, the two worthy little men +bitterly deplored the inevitable departure of their friend from their +midst. It was “not to be supposed,” said Tommy again—it was always Tommy +who said things; to John had been assigned the honour of perpetuating the +family name—it was “not to be supposed that a millionaire would live in +a small house, in a narrow street, remain at the cobbler’s bench, or +continue to associate with poor folks like themselves.” The little +hucksters <span class='pagenum'>[Pg 99]</span>considered it a matter of course that “Cobbler” Horn would +shortly remove to another and very different abode, and they mourned +over the prospect with sincere and bitter grief.</p> + +<p>The little men had good reason for their sorrow, for to none of all his +poor neighbours had “Cobbler” Horn been a better friend. And their regret +in view of his approaching removal was fully reciprocated by “Cobbler” +Horn himself. Of all the friends, in the network of streets surrounding +his humble abode, whom he had fastened to his heart with the golden hooks +of love, there were none whom he held more closely there than the two +little tradesmen across the way. His intercourse with them had been one of +the chief refreshments of his life; and he knew that he would sadly miss +his humble little friends.</p> + +<p>And now the time had come for the removal, and the evening previous to the +departure from the old home, “the Golden Shoemaker” paid his last visit, +in the capacity of neighbour, to the worthy little twins. He had long +known that they had a constant struggle to make their way. He had often +assisted them as far as his own hitherto humble means would allow; and +now, he had resolved that before leaving the neighbourhood, he would make +them such a present as would lift them, once for all, out of the quagmire +of adversity in which they had floundered so long.</p> + +<p>At six o’clock, on that autumn evening, it being already dusk, “Cobbler” +Horn opened his front door, and stood for a moment on the step. Miss +Jemima<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 100]</span> and the young secretary were both out of the way. If Miss Jemima +had known where her brother was going and for what purpose, she would have +held up her hands in horror and dismay, and might even, had she been +present, have tried to detain him in the house by main force.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn lingered a moment on the door-step, with the instinctive +hesitation of one who is about to perform an act of unaccustomed +magnitude; but his soul revelled in the thought of what he was going +to do. He was about to exercise the gracious privilege of the wealthy +Christian man; and, as he handled a bundle of crisp bank-notes which he +held in the side pocket of his coat, his fingers positively tingled with +rapture.</p> + +<p>The street was very quiet. A milk girl was going from door to door, and +the lamplighter was vanishing in the distance. Yet “Cobbler” Horn flitted +furtively across the way, as though he were afraid of being seen; and, +having glided with the stealth of a burglar through the doorway of the +little shop, found himself face to face with Tommy Dudgeon. The smile of +commercial satisfaction, which had been summoned to the face of the little +man by the consciousness that some one was coming into the shop, resolved +itself into an air of respectful yet genial greeting when he recognised +“Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Ah, good evening, Mr. Horn! You said you would pay us a farewell visit, +and we were expecting you. Come in, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn followed his humble conductor<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 101]</span> into the small but cosy +living-room behind, which the large number of its occupants caused to +appear even smaller than it was. John Dudgeon was there, and Mrs. John, +and several offshoots of the Dudgeon tree. Mrs. Dudgeon was ironing at a +table beneath the one small window, in the fading light. She was a staid +and dapper matron, with here and there the faintest line of care upon her +comely face. A couple of the children were rolling upon the hearthrug in +the ruddy glow of the fire, and two or three others were doing their +home-lessons by the aid of the same unsteady gleam. The father, swept to +one side by the surges of his superabundant family, sat on a chair at the +extreme corner of the hearthrug, with both the twins upon his knees.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was greeted with the cordiality due to an old family +friend. Even the children clustered around him and clung to his arms and +legs. Mrs. John, as she was invariably called—possibly on the assumption +that Tommy Dudgeon also would, in due time, take a wife, cleared the +children away from the side of the hearth opposite to her husband, and +placed a chair for the ever-welcome guest. Tommy Dudgeon, who had slipped +into the shop to adjust the door-bell, so that he might have timely notice +of the entrance of a customer, soon returned, and placing a chair for +himself between his brother and “Cobbler” Horn, sat down with his feet +amongst the children, and his gaze fixed on the fire.</p> + +<p>For a time there was no sound in the room but the click of Mrs. John’s +iron, as it travelled swiftly<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 102]</span> to and fro. Even the children were +preternaturally quiet. At length Tommy spoke, in sepulchral tones, with +his eyes still on the fire.</p> + +<p>“Only to think that it’s the last time!”</p> + +<p>“What’s the last time, friend?” asked “Cobbler” Horn, with a start.</p> + +<p>“Why this—that we shall see you sitting there so sociable like, Mr. +Horn.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, I hope not,” was the hearty response. “You’re not going to get +rid of me so easily as that, old friend.”</p> + +<p>“Why,” exclaimed Tommy, “I thought you were going to remove; and I’m sure +no one could find fault with it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes: but you surely don’t suppose I’m going to turn my back on my old +neighbours altogether?”</p> + +<p>“What you say is very kind,” replied Tommy; “but, Mr. Horn, we can’t +expect to see you very often after this.”</p> + +<p>“Well, friend, perhaps oftener than you think.” Then he told them that he +had bought the house in which he had lived amongst them, and meant to keep +it up, and come there almost every day to mend boots and shoes, without +charge for his poor customers.</p> + +<p>“Well, to be sure!” exclaimed Tommy Dudgeon, while John chuckled +exultantly to the twins, and Mrs. John moved her iron more vigorously to +and fro, and hastily raised her hand to brush away a grateful and admiring +tear.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile “Cobbler” Horn was considering how<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 103]</span> he might most delicately +disclose the special purpose of his visit.</p> + +<p>“But after all,” he said at length, “this is a farewell visit. I’m going +away, and, after to-morrow, I shall not be your neighbour any more.”</p> + +<p>For some moments his hand had been once more in his pocket, fingering the +bank-notes. He now drew them forth very much in the way in which a man +entrapped into a den of robbers might draw a pocket-pistol, and smoothed +them out upon his knee.</p> + +<p>“I thought, old friend,” he said, turning to Tommy Dudgeon, “that perhaps +you might be willing to accept a trifling memento of our long +acquaintance. And, indeed, you mustn’t say no.”</p> + +<p>John Dudgeon was too deeply engaged with the twins to note what was said; +Tommy but dimly perceived the drift of his friend; but upon Mrs. John the +full truth flashed with the clearness of noon.</p> + +<p>The next moment the notes were being transferred to the hands of the +astonished Tommy. John was still absorbed with his couple of babies. Mrs. +John was ironing more furiously than ever. Tommy felt, with his finger and +thumb, that there were many of the notes; and he perceived that he and his +were being made the recipients of an act of stupendous generosity. Tears +trickled down his cheeks; his throat and tongue were parched. He tried to +thrust the bank-notes back into the hand of his friend.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Horn, you must not beggar yourself on our account.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 104]</span>“Cobbler” laughed. In truth, he was much relieved. It seemed that his +humble friend objected to his gift only because he thought it was too +large.</p> + +<p>“‘Beggar’ myself, Tommy?” he cried. “I should have to be a very reckless +spendthrift indeed to do that. You forget how dreadfully rich I am. Why +these paltry notes are a mere nothing to such a wealth-encumbered +unfortunate as I. But I thought the money would be a help to you. And you +must take it, Tommy, you must indeed. The Lord told me to give it to you; +and what shall I say to Him, if I allow you to refuse His gift?”</p> + +<p>And so the generous will of “the Golden Shoemaker” prevailed; and if he +could have heard and seen all that took place by that humble fireside, +after he was gone, he would have been assured that at least one small +portion of his uncle’s wealth had been well-bestowed.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 105]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>THE NEW HOUSE.</strong></p> + + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn’s new house, which was situated, as we have seen, on one of +the chief roads leading out of the town, marked almost the verge, in that +direction, of the straggling fringe of urban outskirts. Beyond it there +was only the small cottage in which had lived, and still resided, the +woman who had seen Marian as she trotted so eagerly away into the great +pitiless world. “Cobbler” Horn had not deliberately set himself to seek a +house upon this road. But, when he found there a residence to let which +seemed to be almost exactly the kind of dwelling he required, the fact +that it was situated in a locality so tenderly associated with the memory +of his lost child, in no degree diminished his desire to make it his +abode.</p> + +<p>“It was here that she went by,” he said softly to himself, at the close of +their visit of inspection, as he stood with Miss Jemima at the gate; “and +it was yonder that she was last seen.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 106]</span>What were Miss Jemima’s thoughts, as she followed, with her eyes, the +direction of her brother’s gaze, may not be known; for an unwonted silence +had fallen on her usually ready tongue.</p> + +<p>It was a good house, with a pleasant lawn in front, and a yard, containing +coach-house and stables, behind. The house itself was well-built, +commodious, and fitted with all the conveniences of the day. As most of +the furniture was new, the removal of the family was not a very elaborate +process. In this, as in all other things, “Cobbler” Horn found that his +money secured him the minimum of trouble. He had simply given a few +orders—which his sister, it is true, had supplemented with a great many +more—; and, when the day of removal came, they found themselves duly +installed in a house furnished with a completeness which left nothing to +be desired.</p> + +<p>On their arrival, they were received in the hall by three smiling maids, +a coachman, and a boy in buttons. “The Golden Shoemaker” almost staggered, +as the members of his domestic staff paid due homage to their master. He +half-turned to his sister, and saw that, she, unlike himself, was not +taken by surprise. Then he hastily returned the respectful salutations of +the beaming group, and passed into the house.</p> + +<p>It was afternoon when the removal took place, and the remainder of the day +was spent in inspecting the premises, and settling down. With the aid of +his indefatigable secretary, “Cobbler” Horn had disposed of his morning’s +letters before leaving the old house, and, as it happened, the later mails +were small that<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 107]</span> day. Miss Jemima stepped into her new position as +mistress of a large establishment with ease and grace; and, assisted by +the young secretary, who was fast gaining the goodwill of her employer’s +sister, was already giving to the house, by means of a few slight touches +here and there, that indescribable air of homeliness which money cannot +buy, and no skill of builder or upholsterer can impart.</p> + +<p>To “Cobbler” Horn himself that evening was a restless time. He felt +himself to be strangely out of place; and he was almost afraid to tread +upon the thick soft carpets, or to sit upon the luxurious chairs. And +yet he smiled to himself, as he contrasted his own uneasiness with the +complacency with which his sister was fitting herself into her place in +their new sphere.</p> + +<p>Under the guidance of the coachman, “Cobbler” Horn inspected the horses +and carriages. The coachman, who was the most highly-finished specimen of +his kind who could be obtained for money, treated his new master with an +oppressive air of respect. “Cobbler” Horn would have preferred a more +familiar bearing on the part of his gorgeously-attired servant; but +Bounder was obdurate, for he knew his place. His only recognition of the +somewhat unusual sociability of his master, was to touch his hat with a +more impressive action, and to impart a still deeper note of respect to +the tones of his voice. His bearing implied a solemn rebuke. It was as +though he said, “If you, sir, don’t know your place, I know mine.”</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker,” having completed his<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 108]</span> survey of his new abode +and its surroundings, realized more fuller than hitherto the change his +circumstances had undergone. The old life was now indeed past, and he was +fairly launched upon the new. Well, by the help of God, he had tried to do +his duty in the humble sphere of poverty; and he would attempt the same in +the infinitely more difficult position in which he was now placed.</p> + +<p>Entering the house by the back way, he paused and lingered regretfully for +a moment at the kitchen door. One of the maids perceived his hesitation, +and wondered if master was of the interfering kind. He dispelled her alarm +by passing slowly on.</p> + +<p>After supper, in the dining-room, Miss Jemima handed the old family Bible +to her brother, and he took it with a loving grasp. Here, at least, was a +part of the old life still.</p> + +<p>“Shall I ring for the servants?” asked Miss Jemima.</p> + +<p>“By all means,” said her brother, with a slight start.</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima touched the electric bell, with the air of one who had been +in the habit of ringing for servants all her life. In quick response, the +door was opened; and the maids, the coachman, and the boy, who had all +been well schooled by Miss Jemima, filed gravely in.</p> + +<p>The ordeal through which “Cobbler” Horn had now to pass was very unlike +the homely family prayer of the old life. He performed his task, however, +with a simplicity and fervour with which the domestics<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 109]</span> were duly +impressed; and when it was over he made them a genial yet dignified little +speech, and wished them all a hearty good night.</p> + +<p>“Brother,” Miss Jemima ventured to remark, when the servants were gone, “I +am afraid you lean too much to the side of familiarity with the servants.”</p> + +<p>“Sister,” was the mildly sarcastic response, “you are quite able to adjust +the balance.”</p> + +<p>Amongst the few things which were transferred from the old house to the +new, was a small tin trunk, the conveyance of which Miss Jemima was at +great pains personally to superintend. It contained the tiny wardrobe of +the long lost child, which the sorrowing, and still self-accusing, lady +had continued to preserve.</p> + +<p>It is doubtful whether “Cobbler” Horn was aware of his sister’s pathetic +hoard; but there were two mementos of his lost darling which he himself +preserved. For the custody of papers, deeds, and other valuables, he had +placed in the room set apart as his office, a brand new safe. In one of +its most secure recesses he deposited, with gentle care, a tiny parcel +done up in much soft paper. It contained a mud-soiled print bonnet-string, +and a little dust-stained shoe.</p> + +<p>“They will never be of any more use to her,” he had said to himself; “but +they may help to find her some day.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 110]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>A TALK WITH THE MINISTER ABOUT MONEY.</strong></p> + + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn knew his minister to be a man of strict integrity and +sound judgment; and it was with complete confidence that he sought Mr. +Durnford’s advice with regard to those of his letters with which his +secretary and himself were unable satisfactorily to deal. The morning +after the removal to the new house, he hastened to the residence of the +minister with a bundle of such letters in his pocket. Mr. Durnford read +the letters carefully through, and gave him in each case suitable advice; +and then “Cobbler” Horn had a question to ask.</p> + +<p>“Will you tell me, sir, why you have not yet asked me for anything towards +any of our own church funds?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” replied the minister, with a shrewd twinkle in his eye, “you see, +Mr. Horn, I thought I might safely leave the matter to your generosity and +good sense.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 111]</span>“Thank you, sir. Well, I am anxious that my own church should have its +full share of what I have to give. Will you, sir,” he added diffidently, +“kindly tell me what funds there are, and how much I ought to give to +each.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he extracted from his pocket, with some difficulty, a bulky +cheque-book, and flattened it out on the table with almost reverent +fingers; for he had not yet come to regard the possession of a cheque-book +as a commonplace circumstance of his life.</p> + +<p>“That’s just like you, Mr. Horn,” said the minister, with glistening eyes.</p> + +<p>He was a straightforward man, and transparent as glass. He would not +manifest false delicacy, or make an insincere demur.</p> + +<p>“There are plenty of ways for your money, with us, Mr. Horn,” he added. +“But what is your wish? Shall I make a list of the various funds?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Durnford drew his chair to his writing-table, as he spoke, and took +up his pen.</p> + +<p>“If you please, sir,” said “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>No sooner said than done; and in a few moments the half-sheet of large +manuscript paper which the minister had placed before him was filled from +top to bottom with a list of the designations of various religious funds.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said “Cobbler” Horn, glancing at the paper. “Will you, +now, kindly set down in order how much you think I ought to give in each +case.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 112]</span>With the very slightest hesitation, and in perfect silence, Mr. Durnford +undertook this second task; and, in a few minutes, having jotted down a +specific amount opposite to each of the lines in the list, he handed the +paper again to “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>Mr. Durnford’s estimate of his visitor’s liberality had not erred by +excess of modesty; and he was startled when he mentally reckoned up the +sum of the various amounts he had set down. But “Cobbler” Horn’s reception +of the list startled him still more.</p> + +<p>“My dear sir,” said “the Golden Shoemaker,” with a smile, “I’m afraid +you do not realize how very rich I am. This list will not help me much in +getting rid of the amount of money of which I shall have to dispose, for +the Lord, every year. Try your hand again.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Durnford asked pardon for the modesty of his suggestions, and promptly +revised the list.</p> + +<p>“Ah, that is better,” said “Cobbler” Horn. “The subscriptions you have set +down may stand, as far as the ordinary funds are concerned; but now about +the debt fund? What is the amount of the debt?”</p> + +<p>“Two thousand pounds.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I will pay off half of it at once; and, when you have raised +two-thirds of the rest, let me know.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir, indeed!” exclaimed the minister, almost smacking his +lips, as he dipped his pen in the ink, and added this munificent promise +to the already long list.</p> + +<p>“It is a mere nothing,” said “Cobbler” Horn. “It<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 113]</span> is but a trifling +instalment of the debt I owe to God on account of this church, and its +minister. But you are beginning to find, Mr. Durnford, that I am rather +eccentric in money matters?”</p> + +<p>“Delightfully so!” exclaimed the minister.</p> + +<p>“Well, the right use of money has always been a point with me. Even in the +days when I had very little money through my hands, I tried to remember +that I was the steward of my Lord. It was difficult, then, to carry out +the idea, because it often seemed as though I could not spare what I +really thought I ought to give. My present difficulty is to dispose of +even a small part of what I can easily spare.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” exclaimed the minister, in whose face there was an expression of +deep interest.</p> + +<p>“Now,” resumed “Cobbler” Horn, “will you, Mr. Durnford, help me in this +matter? Will you let me know of any suitable channels for my money of +which you may, from time to time, be aware?”</p> + +<p>“You may depend upon me in that, my dear sir,” said the minister, with +gusto.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir!” exclaimed “the Golden Shoemaker,” as fervently as though +his minister had promised to make him acquainted with chances of gaining +money, instead of letting him know of opportunities of giving it away. +“And now I think of it, Mr. Durnford, I should like to place in your hands +a sum for use at your own discretion. You must meet with many cases of +necessity which you would not care to mention to the authorities of the +church; and it would be a distinct advantage to you<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 114]</span> to have a sum of +money for use in such instances absolutely at your own command. Now I am +going to write you a cheque for fifty pounds to be used as you think fit; +and when it is done, you shall have more.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Horn!” exclaimed the startled minister.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, it’s all right. All the money I’ve promised you this morning +is a mere trifle to me. And now, with your permission, I’ll write the +cheques.”</p> + +<p>Why “Cobbler” Horn should not have included the whole amount of his gifts +in one cheque it is difficult to say. Perhaps he thought that, by writing +a separate cheque for the last fifty pounds, he would more effectually +ensure Mr. Durnford’s having the absolute disposal of that amount.</p> + +<p>The writing of the cheques was a work of time.</p> + +<p>“There, sir,” said “Cobbler” Horn, at last, as he handed the two precious +slips of paper across the table, “I hope you will find them all right.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Horn, again and again,” said the minister, as he folded up +the cheques and placed them in his pocket-book; “they are perfectly right, +I am sure.”</p> + +<p>“Has it occurred to you,” he continued, “that it would be well if you were +systematic in your giving?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and I intend systematically to give away as much as I can.”</p> + +<p>“But have you thought of fixing what proportion of your income you will +give? Not,” added the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 115]</span> minister, laughing, “that I am afraid lest you +should not give away enough.”</p> + +<p>“Oh yes,” responded “Cobbler” Horn, laughing in his turn; “I have decided +to give proportionately; and the proportion I mean to give is almost all +I’ve got.”</p> + +<p>“I see you are incorrigible,” laughed Mr. Durnford.</p> + +<p>“You’ll find that I am. But now—” and “Cobbler” Horn regarded his +minister with an expression of modest, friendly interest in his face—“I’m +going to write another cheque.”</p> + +<p>“You must be fond of the occupation, Mr. Horn.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn’s enrichment had not, in any degree, caused the cordiality +of his relations with his minister to decline. There was nothing in +“Cobbler” Horn to encourage sycophancy; and there was not in Mr. Durnford +a particle of the sycophant.</p> + +<p>“I believe I don’t altogether dislike it, sir,” assented “Cobbler” Horn in +response to the minister’s last remark. “But,” he added, handing to him +the cheque he had now finished writing, “will you, my dear sir, accept +that for yourself? Your stipend is far too small; and I know Mrs. +Durnford’s illness in the spring must have been very expensive. Don’t +say no, I beg of you; but take it——as a favour to me.”</p> + +<p>He had risen from his seat, and the next moment, with a hurried “good +morning,” he was gone, leaving the astonished minister in possession of +a cheque for one hundred pounds!</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 116]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>“COBBLER” HORN’S VILLAGE.</strong></p> + + +<p>It was the custom of “Cobbler” Horn to spend the first hour of every +morning, after breakfast, in the office, with his secretary. They would go +through the letters which required attention; and, after he had given Miss +Owen specific directions with regard to some of them, he would leave her +to use her own discretion with reference to the rest. Amongst the former, +there were frequently a few which he reserved for the judgment of Mr. +Durnford. It was the duty of the young secretary to scan the letters which +came by the later posts; but none of them were to be submitted to +“Cobbler” Horn until the next morning, unless they were of urgent +importance.</p> + +<p>One morning, about a week after the removal to the new house, the office +door suddenly opened, and “Cobbler” Horn emerged into the hall in a state +of great excitement, holding an open letter in his hand.</p> + +<p>“Jemima!” he shouted.</p> + +<p>The only response was a sound of angry voices<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 117]</span> from the region of the +kitchen, amidst which he recognised his sister’s familiar tones. Surely +Jemima was not having trouble with the servants! Approaching the kitchen +door, he pushed it slightly open, and peeped into the room. Miss Jemima +was emphatically laying down the law to the young and comely cook, who +stood back against the table, facing her mistress, with the rolling-pin in +her hand, and rebellion in every curve of her figure and in every feature +of her face.</p> + +<p>“You are a saucy minx,” Miss Jemima was saying, in her sharpest tones.</p> + +<p>“‘Minx’ yourself,” was the pert reply. “No mistress shan’t interfere with +me and my work, as you’ve done this last week. If you was a real lady, you +wouldn’t do it.”</p> + +<p>“You rude girl, I’ll teach you to keep your place.”</p> + +<p>“Keep your own,” rapped out the girl; “and it ’ull be the better for all +parties. As for me, I shan’t keep this place, and I give you warning from +now, so there!”</p> + +<p>At this moment, the girl caught sight of her master’s face at the door, +and flinging herself around to the table, resumed her work. Miss Jemima, +in her great anger, advanced a pace or two, with uplifted hand, towards +the broad back of her rebellious cook: “Cobbler” Horn, observing the +position of affairs, spoke in emphatic tones.</p> + +<p>“Jemima, I want you at once.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima started, and then, without a word, followed her brother to the +dining-room.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 118]</span>“Brother,” she said, snatching, in her anger, the first word, “that girl +has insulted me grossly.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jemima, I heard; but try to forget it for a moment. I have great +news for you. This letter is about cousin Jack.”</p> + +<p>In a moment Miss Jemima had forgotten her insubordinate cook.</p> + +<p>“So the poor creature is found!” she said when she had taken, and read, +the letter.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and he proves to be in a condition which will render doubly welcome +the good news he will shortly receive.”</p> + +<p>“Then you persist in your intention to hand over to him a share of uncle’s +money?”</p> + +<p>“To be sure I do!”</p> + +<p>“Well,” retorted Miss Jemima, somewhat acrimoniously, “it’s a pity. That +portion of the money will be dispersed in a worse manner even than it was +gathered.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t say that, Jemima,” said her brother gravely.</p> + +<p>“Well,” asked Miss Jemima, dispensing with further protest, “what are you +going to do?”</p> + +<p>“The first thing is to see Messrs. Tongs and Ball. You see they ask me to +do so. I can’t get away to-day. To-morrow I am to visit our village, you +know; and, as it is on the way to London, the best plan will be to go on +when I am so far.”</p> + +<p>So it was settled, and Miss Owen was instructed to write the lawyers, +saying that Mr. Horn would wait upon them on the morning of the third day +from that time.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 119]</span>The next morning, “Cobbler” Horn, having invested his young secretary with +full powers in regard to his correspondence, during his absence, set off +by an early train for Daisy Lane, en route for London. He had but a vague +idea as to the village of which he was the chief proprietor. He was aware, +however, that his property there, including the old hall itself, was, to +quote Mr. Ball, “somewhat out of repair”; and he rejoiced in the prospect +of the opportunity its dilapidation might present of turning to good +account some considerable portion of his immense wealth.</p> + +<p>It was almost noon when the train stopped at the small station at which +he was to alight. He was the only passenger who left the train at that +station; and, almost before his feet had touched the platform, he was +greeted by a plain, middle-aged man, of medium height and broad of build, +whose hair was reddish-brown and his whiskers brownish-red, while his +tanned and glowing face bore ample evidence of an out-door life. He had +the appearance of a good-natured, intelligent, and trustworthy man. This +was John Gray, the agent of the property; and “Cobbler” Horn liked him +from the first.</p> + +<p>“It’s only a mile and a half to the village sir,” said the man, as they +mounted the trap which was waiting outside the station; “and we shall soon +run along.”</p> + +<p>The trap was a nondescript and dilapidated vehicle, and the horse was by +no means a thoroughbred. But the whole turn-out was faultlessly clean.</p> + +<p>“It’s rather a crazy concern, sir,” said Mr. Gray<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 120]</span> candidly. “But you +needn’t be afraid. It will hold together for this time, I think.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn smiled somewhat sadly, as he mounted to his seat. Here was +probably an instalment of much with which he was destined to meet that +day.</p> + +<p>“Wake up, Jack!” said Mr. Gray, shaking the reins. The appearance of +the animal indicated that it was necessary for him to take his master’s +injunction in a literal sense. He awoke with a start, and set off at a +walking pace, from which, by dint of much persuasion on the part of his +driver, he was induced to pass into a gentle trot.</p> + +<p>“He never goes any faster than that,” said the agent.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” ejaculated “Cobbler” Horn. “But we must try to get you something +better to drive about in than this, Mr. Gray.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir. It will be a good thing.”</p> + +<p>As they slowly progressed along the pleasant country road, the agent gave +his new employer sundry particulars concerning the property of which he +had become possessed.</p> + +<p>“Nearly all the village belongs to you, sir. There’s only the church and +vicarage, and one farm-house, with a couple of cottages attached, that are +not yours. But you’ll find your property in an awful state. I’ve done what +I could to patch it up; but what can you do without money?”</p> + +<p>“I hope, Mr. Gray,” said the new proprietor, “that we shall soon rectify +all that.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 121]</span>“Of course you will, sir,” said the candid agent. “It’s very painful,” he +added, “to hear the complaints the people make.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt. You must take me to see some of my tenants; but you must not +tell them who I am.”</p> + +<p>“There’s a decent house!” he remarked presently, as they came in sight +of a comfortable-looking residence, which stood on their left, at the +entrance of the village.</p> + +<p>“Ah, that’s the vicarage,” replied the agent, “and the church is a little +beyond, and along there, on the other side of the road, is the farm-house +which does not belong to you.”</p> + +<p>They were now entering the village, the long, straggling street of which +soon afforded “the Golden Shoemaker” evidence enough of his deceased +uncle’s parsimonious ideas. Half-ruined cottages and tumbledown houses +were dispersed around; here and there along the main street, were two or +three melancholy shops; and in the centre of the village stood a +disreputable-looking public-house.</p> + +<p>“I could wish,” said “Cobbler” Horn, as they passed the last-mentioned +building, “that my village did not contain any place of that kind.”</p> + +<p>“There’s no reason,” responded the agent, with a quiet smile, “why you +should have a public-house in the place, if you don’t want one.”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t we have a public-house without strong drink?”</p> + +<p>“No doubt we could, sir; but it wouldn’t pay.”</p> + +<p>“You mean as a matter of money, of course. But<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 122]</span> that is nothing to me, and +the scheme would pay in other respects. I leave it to you, Mr. Gray, to +get rid of the present occupant of the house as soon as it can be done +without injustice, and to convert the establishment into a public-house +without the drink—a place which will afford suitable accommodation for +travellers, and be a pleasant meeting place, of an evening, for the men +and boys of the village.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said the agent, with huge delight. “Have I carte +blanche?”</p> + +<p>“‘Carte blanche’?” queried “Cobbler” Horn, with a puzzled air. “Let me +see; that’s——what? Ah, I know—a free hand, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” replied the agent gravely.</p> + +<p>“Then that’s just what I mean.”</p> + +<p>As they drove on, “Cobbler” Horn observed that most of the gardens +attached to the cottages were in good order, and that some of the people +had been at great pains to conceal the mouldering walls of their wretched +huts with roses, honeysuckle, and various climbing plants. Glowing with +honest shame, he became restlessly eager to wave his golden wand over this +desolate scene.</p> + +<p>“This is my place, sir,” said the agent, as they stopped at the gate of a +dingy, double-fronted house. “You’ll have a bit of dinner with us in our +humble way?”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” said “the Golden Shoemaker,” “I shall be very glad.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 123]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>IN NEED OF REPAIRS.</strong></p> + + +<p>After dinner, “Cobbler” Horn set out with his agent on a tour of +inspection through the village.</p> + +<p>“We’ll take this row first, sir, if you please,” said Mr. Gray. “One of +the people has sent for me to call.”</p> + +<p>So saying he led the way towards a row of decrepit cottages which, with +their dingy walls and black thatch, looked like a group of fungi, rather +than a row of habitations erected by the hand of man.</p> + +<p>At the crazy door of the first cottage they were confronted by a stout, +red-faced woman with bare beefy arms, who, on seeing “Cobbler” Horn, +dropped a curtsey, and suppressed the angry salutation which she had +prepared for Mr. Gray.</p> + +<p>“A friend of mine, Mrs. Blobs,” said the agent.</p> + +<p>“Glad to see you, sir,” said the woman to “Cobbler” Horn. “Will you please +to walk in, gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>“Just cast your eye up there, Mr. Gray,” she added when they were inside. +“It’s come through at last.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 124]</span>Sure enough it had. Above their heads was a vast hole in the ceiling, and +above that a huge gap in the thatch; and at their feet lay a heap of +bricks, mortar, and fragments of rotten wood.</p> + +<p>“Why the chimney has come through!” exclaimed Mr. Gray.</p> + +<p>“Little doubt of that,” said Mrs. Blobs.</p> + +<p>“Was anybody hurt?”</p> + +<p>“No, but they might ha’ bin. It was this very morning. The master was at +his work, and the children away at school; but, if I hadn’t just stepped +out to have a few words with a neighbour, I might ha’ bin just under the +very place. Isn’t it disgraceful, sir,” she added, turning to “Cobbler” +Horn, “that human beings should be made to live in such tumbledown places? +I believe Mr. Gray, here, would have put things right long ago; but he’s +been kept that tight by the old skin-flint what’s just died. They do say +as now the property have got into better hands; but——”</p> + +<p>“Well, well, Mrs. Blobs” interposed the agent; “we shall soon see a change +now I hope.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” assented “Cobbler” Horn, “we’ll have——that is, I’m sure Mr. Gray +will soon make you snug, ma’am.”</p> + +<p>“We must call at every house, sir,” said Mr. Gray, as they passed to the +next door. “There isn’t one of the lot but wants patching up almost every +day.”</p> + +<p>“Cheer up, Mr. Gray,” said “the Golden Shoemaker.” “There shall be no more +patching after this.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 125]</span>In each of the miserable cottages they met with a repetition of their +experience in the first. If the reproaches of the living could bring back +the dead, old Jacob Horn should have formed one of the group in those +mouldy and rotting cottages, to listen to the reiteration of the shameful +story of his criminal neglect. Here the windows were bursting from their +setting, like the bulging eyes of suffocating men; and here the door-frame +was in a state of collapse. In one cottage the ceiling was depositing +itself, by frequent instalments, on the floor; and in another the floor +itself was rotting away. In every case, Mr. Gray made bold to promise the +speedy rectification of everything that was wrong; and “Cobbler” Horn +confirmed his promises in a manner so authoritative that it would have +been a wonder if his discontented tenants had not caught some glimmering +of the truth as to who he was.</p> + +<p>On leaving the cottages, Mr. Gray took his employer to one of the +farm-houses which his property comprised. They found the farmer, a burly, +red-faced, ultra-choleric man, excited over some recently-consummated +dilapidations on his premises. He conducted his visitors over his house +and farm-buildings, grumbling like an ungreased wagon. His abuse of +“Cobbler” Horn’s dead uncle was unstinted, and almost every other word was +a rumbling oath. Mr. Gray assured him that all would be put right now in a +very short time; and “Cobbler” Horn said, “Yes, he was sure it would.”</p> + +<p>The farmer stared in surprise; but his blunter<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 126]</span> perception proved less +penetrative than the keen insight of the women, and he simply wondered +what this rather rough looking stranger could know about it, anyhow. He +expressed a hope that it might be as Mr. Gray said. For himself he hadn’t +much faith. But, if there wasn’t something done soon, the new landlord had +better not show himself there, that was all; and the aggrieved farmer +clenched his implied threat with the most emphatic oath he was able to +produce.</p> + +<p>Their inspection of the remainder of the village revealed, on every side, +the same condition of ruin and decay; and it was with a sad and indignant +heart that “Cobbler” Horn at length sat down, in Mrs. Gray’s front +parlour, to a late but welcome cup of tea.</p> + +<p>“To-morrow,” he said, “we’ll have a look at the old hall.”</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker” spent the evening in close consultation with his +agent. The state of the property was thoroughly discussed, and Mr. Gray +was invested with full power to renovate and renew. His employer enjoined +him to make complete work. He was to exceed, rather than stop short of, +what was necessary, and to do even more than the tenants asked.</p> + +<p>“You will understand, Mr. Gray,” said “Cobbler” Horn, “that I want all my +property in this village to be put into such thorough repair that, as far +as the comfort and convenience of my tenants are concerned, nothing shall +remain to be desired. So set to work<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 127]</span> with all your might; and we shall +not quarrel about the bill——if you only make it large enough.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gray’s big heart bounded within him, as he received this generous +commission.</p> + +<p>“And don’t forget your own house,” added his employer. “I think you had +better build yourself a new one while you are about it; and let it be a +house fit to live in.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gray warmly expressed his thanks, and they proceeded to the +consideration of the numberless matters which it was necessary to discuss.</p> + +<p>In the morning, under the guidance of the agent, “Cobbler” Horn paid his +promised visit to the old Hall. It was a venerable Elizabethan mansion, +and, like everything else in the village that belonged to him, was sadly +out of repair. As he entered the ancient pile, and passed from room to +room, a purpose with regard to the old Hall which already vaguely occupied +his mind, took definite shape; and he seemed to hear, in the empty rooms, +the glad ring of children’s laughter and the patter of children’s feet. In +memory of his long-lost Marian, and for the glory of the Divine Friend of +children, the old Hall should be transformed into a Home for little ones +who were homeless and without a friend.</p> + +<p>As they drove to the station, a little later, he announced his attention, +with regard to the Hall, to Mr. Gray.</p> + +<p>“I shall leave the business in your hands, Mr. Gray. You must consult +those who understand such things, and visit similar institutions, and turn +the old place<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 128]</span> into the best ‘Children’s Home’ that can be produced.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, sir; but the children?”</p> + +<p>“That matter I will arrange myself.”</p> + +<p>The agent was getting used to surprises; but the next that came almost +took his breath away.</p> + +<p>“I believe,” said “Cobbler” Horn, at the end of a brief silence, “that +your salary, Mr. Gray, is £150 a year?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I wish to increase the amount. Pray consider that you will receive, +from this time, at the rate of £500 a year.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Horn!” cried the startled agent, “such generosity!”</p> + +<p>“Not at all; I mean you to earn it, you know. But let your horse move on, +or I shall miss my train. And, by the way, will you oblige me, Mr. Gray, +by procuring for yourself a horse and trap better calculated to serve the +interests of my property than this sorry turn-out. Get the best equipment +which can be obtained for money.”</p> + +<p>The agent, not knowing whether he was touched the more by the kindness +of the injunction, or by the delicacy with which it had been expressed, +murmured incoherent thanks, and promised speedy compliance with his +employer’s commands.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 129]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>“THE GOLDEN SHOEMAKER” INSTRUCTS HIS LAWYERS.</strong></p> + + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn reached London early the same evening, and the following +morning, at the appointed hour, duly presented himself at the office of +Messrs. Tongs and Ball. He was received with enthusiasm by the men of +law. Long Mr. Ball was, as usual, the chief speaker; and round Mr. Tongs +yielded meek and monosyllabic assent to all his partner’s words.</p> + +<p>“And how are you by this time, my dear sir?” asked Mr. Ball, almost +affectionately, when they had taken their seats.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn had a vague impression that the lawyer was asking his +question on behalf of his partner as well as of himself.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, gentlemen,” was his cordial reply. “I am thankful to say I +never was better in my life; and I hope I find you the same?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 130]</span>“Thank you, my dear sir,” answered Mr. Ball, “speaking for self and +partner, I think I may say that we are well.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Tongs.</p> + +<p>“But,” resumed Mr. Ball, turning to the table, “your time is precious, +Mr. Horn. Shall we proceed?”</p> + +<p>“If you please, gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said the lawyer, taking up a bundle of papers; “these are the +letters relating to the case of your unfortunate cousin. Shall I give you +their contents in due order, Mr. Horn?”</p> + +<p>“If you please,” and “Cobbler” Horn composed himself to listen, with a +grave face.</p> + +<p>The letters were from the agents of Messrs. Tongs and Ball in New York; +and the information they conveyed was to the effect that “Cobbler” Horn’s +scapegrace cousin had been traced to a poor lodging-house in that city, +where he was slowly dying of consumption. He might last for months, but +it was possible he would not linger more than a few weeks.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn listened to the reading of the letters with head down-bent. +When it was finished, he looked up.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, gentlemen,” he said; “have you done anything?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Ball gazed at his client through his spectacles, over the top of the +last of the letters, which he still held open in his hand, and there was +gentle expostulation in his eye.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 131]</span>“Our instructions, Mr. Horn, were to find your cousin.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” said “Cobbler” Horn, with a smile; “and you have done that. Well +now, gentlemen, will you be kind enough to do something more?”</p> + +<p>“We will attend to your commands, Mr. Horn,” was the deferential response. +“That is our business.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” was the emphatic assent of Mr. Tongs.</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker” was becoming accustomed to the readiness of all +with whom he had to do to wait upon his will.</p> + +<p>“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “I wish everything to be done to relieve my +poor cousin’s distress, and even, if possible, to save his life. Be good +enough to telegraph directions for him to be removed without delay to some +place where he will receive the best care that money can procure. If his +life cannot be saved, he may at least be kept alive till I can reach his +bedside.”</p> + +<p>“Your commands shall be obeyed, sir,” said Mr. Ball; “but,” he added with +much surprise, “is it necessary for you to go to New York yourself?”</p> + +<p>“That you must leave to me, gentlemen,” said “the Golden Shoemaker” in a +tone which put an end to debate.</p> + +<p>“Now, gentlemen,” he resumed, “kindly hand me those letters; and let me +know how soon, after to-morrow, I can set out.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to lose any time, sir,” said Mr. Ball, handing the bundle +of letters to his client.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 132]</span>In a few moments, the lawyers were able to supply the information that +a berth could be secured in a first-class steamer which would leave +Liverpool for New York in two days’ time; and it was arranged that a +passage should be booked.</p> + +<p>“We await your further orders, Mr. Horn,” said Mr. Ball, rubbing his hands +together, as he perceived that his client still retained his seat.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I detain you, gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>“By no means, my dear sir,” protested Mr. Ball.</p> + +<p>“No,” echoed Mr. Tongs.</p> + +<p>“I am glad of that,” said “Cobbler” Horn. “I should be sorry to waste your +valuable time.”</p> + +<p>More than once a clerk had come to the door to announce that so-and-so or +so-and-so, awaited the leisure of his employers; and, in every case, the +answer had been, “let them wait.”</p> + +<p>The time of Messrs. Tongs and Ball was indeed valuable, and no portion of +it was likely to prove more so than that bestowed on the affairs of +“Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>Both the lawyers smiled amiably.</p> + +<p>“You could not waste our time, Mr. Horn,” said Mr. Ball.</p> + +<p>“No,” echoed Mr. Tongs.</p> + +<p>“That’s very good of you, gentlemen. But at any rate I really have some +business of the gravest importance still to discuss with you.”</p> + +<p>“By all means, my dear sir,” said Mr. Ball with gusto, settling himself +in an attitude of attention, while Mr. Tongs also prepared himself to +listen.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 133]</span>“I wish, gentlemen,” announced “the Golden Shoemaker,” “to make my will.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure,” said Mr. Ball.</p> + +<p>“You see,” continued “Cobbler” Horn, “a journey to America is attended +with some risk.”</p> + +<p>“Precisely,” assented Mr. Ball. “And a man of your wealth, Mr. Horn, +should not, in any case, postpone the making of his will. It was our +intention to speak to you about the matter to-day.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure,” said “Cobbler” Horn. “Can it be done at once?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” responded the lawyer, drawing his chair to the table, and +preparing, pen in hand, to receive the instructions of his client.</p> + +<p>“You have no children, I think, Mr. Horn?”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn’s cheeks blanched, and his lips quivered; but he instantly +regained his self-control.</p> + +<p>“That is my difficulty,” he said. “I had a child, but——”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” interrupted Mr. Ball, “I understand. Very sad.”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said “Cobbler” Horn sternly, “you do not understand. It is not +as you think. But can I make my will in favour of a person who may, or may +not, be alive?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Ball was in no wise abashed.</p> + +<p>“Do I take you, my dear sir? You——”</p> + +<p>“The person,” interposed “Cobbler” Horn, “to whom I wish to leave my +property is my little daughter, Marian, who wandered away twelve years +ago, and has never been heard of since. Can I do it, gentlemen?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 134]</span>“I think you can, Mr. Horn,” replied Mr. Ball. “In the absence of any +proof of death, your daughter may be considered to be still alive. What +do you say, Mr. Tongs?”</p> + +<p>“Oh yes; to be sure; certainly,” exclaimed Mr. Tongs, who seemed to have +been aroused from a reverie, and for whom it was enough that he was +required to confirm some dictum of his partner.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, gentlemen. Then please to note that I wish my property to +pass, at my death, to my daughter, Marian Horn.”</p> + +<p>“Very good, sir,” said Mr. Ball, making a note on a sheet of paper. “But,” +he added, with an enquiring glance towards his client, “in the event—that +is to say, supposing your daughter were not to reappear, Mr. Horn?”</p> + +<p>“I am coming to that,” was the calm reply. “If my daughter does not come +back before my death, I wish everything to go to my sister, Jemima Horn, +on the condition that she gives it up to my daughter when she does +return.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” ejaculated Mr. Ball. “And may I ask, my dear sir?—If Miss Horn +should die, say shortly after your own decease, what then?”</p> + +<p>“I have thought of that too. Would it be in order, to appoint a trustee, +to hold the property, in such a case, for my child?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, quite in order. Have you the name ready, my dear sir?”</p> + +<p>“I will give you that of Rev. George Durnford, of Cottonborough.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 135]</span>“And, for how long, Mr. Horn,” asked Mr. Ball, when he had written down +Mr. Durnford’s name and address, “must the property be thus held?”</p> + +<p>“Till my daughter comes to claim it.”</p> + +<p>“But, but, my dear sir——”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said “Cobbler” Horn, breaking in upon the lawyer’s incipient +protest; “put it like this. Say that, in the event of my sister’s death, +everything is to go into the hands of Mr. Durnford, to be held by him in +trust for my daughter, and to be dealt with according to his own +discretion.”</p> + +<p>“That is all on that subject, gentlemen,” he added, in a tone of finality; +and, having summarily dismissed one matter of business, he as summarily +introduced another. “And now,” he said, “having made provision for my +daughter in the event of my death, I wish also to provide for her in +case she should come back during my life. I desire the sum of £50,000 +to be set aside and invested in such a manner, that my daughter may have +it—principal and interest—as her own private fortune during my life.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Ball regarded his singular client with a doubtful look.</p> + +<p>“Is it necessary to do that, my dear sir? With your wealth, you will be +able, at any time, to do for your daughter what you please.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Tongs, who seemed to think it time to put in his word.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen,” said “Cobbler” Horn. “You must let me have my own way. It is +my intention to turn my money to the best account, according to my<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 136]</span> light; +and I wish to have the £50,000 secured to my child, lest, when she comes +back, there should be nothing left for her.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Horn, of course your wishes shall be obeyed,” said Mr. Ball, +with a sigh; “but it is not an arrangement which I should advise.”</p> + +<p>With this final protest the subject was dismissed; but, for many days, the +£50,000 to be invested for the missing daughter of his eccentric client +remained a burden on the mind of Mr. Ball.</p> + +<p>“And now,” said “the Golden Shoemaker,” “there is just another thing +before I go. I have been to see my village. I found it, as you warned me, +in a sadly dilapidated condition; and I have desired Mr. Gray to make all +the necessary repairs. Will you, gentlemen, give him all the help you can, +and see that he doesn’t want for money?”</p> + +<p>“We shall be delighted, my dear sir, as a matter of course.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you: Mr. Gray will probably apply to you on various points; and I +wish you to know that he has my authority for all he does.”</p> + +<p>“Very good, sir,” said Mr. Ball, in a respectful tone.</p> + +<p>“Then, while I was at Daisy Lane, I paid a visit to the old Hall.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Ball, “a splendid family mansion, Mr. Horn?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I have desired Mr. Gray to have it renovated and furnished.”</p> + +<p>“As a residence for yourself, of course?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 137]</span>“No; I have other designs.”</p> + +<p>Then, in the deeply-attentive ears of the two men of law, “the Golden +Shoemaker” recited his plans with regard to the old Hall.</p> + +<p>It would be a mild statement to say that Messrs. Tongs and Ball were +taken by surprise; but their client afforded them slight opportunity +to interpose even a comment on his scheme.</p> + +<p>“You must help Mr. Gray in this matter especially, gentlemen, if you +please. Do all you can for him. I want it to be the best ‘Children’s Home’ +in the country. Don’t spare expense. I wish everything to be provided that +is good for little children. My friend, Mr. Durnford will, perhaps, help +me to find a ‘father and mother’ for the ‘Home;’ you, gentlemen, shall +assist me in the engagement of skilful nurses and trustworthy servants. In +order that we may make the place as nearly perfect as possible, I have +requested Mr. Gray to visit similar institutions in various parts of the +country. He will look to you for advice; and I should be obliged, +gentlemen, if you would put him on the right track.”</p> + +<p>Then he paused, and looked at his lawyers with a glowing face.</p> + +<p>“It’s for the sake,” he said, and there was a catch in his voice, “of my +little Marian, who went from me a wanderer upon the face of the earth.”</p> + +<p>Then, having arranged to call in the morning, for the purpose of signing +his will, previous to his departure from town, he took his leave.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 138]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>MEMORIES.</strong></p> + + +<p>The following morning “Cobbler” Horn called at the office of Messrs. Tongs +and Ball at the appointed time. The will was ready, and, having signed it, +he said “good day” to the lawyers, and took the next train to +Cottonborough, where he arrived early in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>Subsequently, at the dinner-table, he answered freely the questions of +Miss Jemima concerning his doings during his absence. Nor did he feel the +presence of his young secretary to be, in any degree, a restraint. Already +she was as one of the family, and was almost as much in the confidence of +“the Golden Shoemaker” as was Miss Jemima herself. “Cobbler” Horn told of +the dilapidated condition in which he had found the village, and of the +instructions he had given to the agent. At the recital of the latter, Miss +Jemima held up her hands in dismay, while the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 139]</span> eyes of the secretary +glistened with unconcealed delight. But the climax was reached when +“Cobbler” Horn spoke of his intentions with regard to the old Hall. Miss +Jemima uttered a positive shriek, and shook her head till her straight, +stiff side-curls quivered again.</p> + +<p>“Thomas,” she cried, “you must be mad! It will cost you thousands of +pounds!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jemima,” was the quiet reply; “and surely they could not be better +spent! And then there’ll still be a few thousands left,” he added with a +smile. “It’s a way of spending the Lord’s money of which I’m sure He will +approve. What do you say, Miss Owen?”</p> + +<p>“I think it’s just splendid of you, Mr. Horn!”</p> + +<p>To do Miss Jemima justice, her annoyance arose quite as much from the +annihilation of her dearly cherished hopes of becoming the mistress of an +ideal country mansion, and filling the place of lady magnificent of her +brother’s village, as from the thought of the gigantic extravagance which +his designs with regard to the old Hall would involve.</p> + +<p>But the poor lady was to be yet further astonished.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Jemima,” said her brother, after a brief pause, +and speaking with a whimsical air of apology, “that I am to start for +America to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>He spoke as though he were announcing a trip into the next county; and +Miss Jemima could scarcely have shown greater amazement, if he had +declared his intention of starting for the moon.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 140]</span>The good lady almost bounced from her seat.</p> + +<p>“Thomas!”</p> + +<p>She had not breath for more than that.</p> + +<p>In truth the announcement “the Golden Shoemaker” had made was startling +enough. Even Miss Owen looked up in intense surprise; and the servant +girl, who was in the act of taking away the meat, was so startled that +she almost let it fall into her master’s lap.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn alone was unmoved.</p> + +<p>“You see,” he said calmly, “when I considered the sad plight of our poor +cousin, I thought it would be best for me to go and see to him myself. +There are the letters,” he added, taking them from his pocket, and handing +them to his sister. “You will see, Jemima, that the poor fellow is in sore +straits—ill, and destitute in a low lodging-house in New York, Miss Owen! +He will be informed, by now, of his change of fortune, and everything +possible is to be done for him. But I feel that I can’t leave him to +strangers. And then there may be a chance of leading him to the Saviour, +who can tell? Besides, Jemima, a journey to America is not so much of an +undertaking now-a-days, you know; and I sha’n’t be many weeks away.”</p> + +<p>By this time, Miss Jemima had managed to recover her breath, and, in part, +her wits.</p> + +<p>“But I can’t get you ready by to-morrow, Thomas!”</p> + +<p>“My dear Jemima, that doesn’t matter at all: whether you can get me ready +or not, I must go. The lawyers will have taken my passage by this time.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 141]</span>“But—but you can never take care of yourself in America, Thomas. It’s +such a large country, and so dreadful; and the Americans are such strange +people.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, Jemima,” was the pleasant reply, “Messrs. Tongs and Ball have +sent a cablegram to their agent in New York, instructing him to look after +me. And, besides, I’ve made my will.”</p> + +<p>“What?” shouted Miss Jemima, “made your will?”</p> + +<p>To Miss Jemima it seemed a dreadful thing to make one’s will. It was a +last desperate resort. It was in view of death that people made their +wills. It was evident her brother did not expect to get safely back.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” repeated “Cobbler” Horn, with a quiet smile, “I’ve made my will. +But, don’t be alarmed, Jemima; I sha’n’t die any the sooner for that. I +did it as a wise precaution, with the approval of the lawyers. Even if I +had not been going to America, I should have had to make my will sooner or +later. Cheer up, Jemima! Our Heavenly Father bears rule in America, and on +the sea, as well as here at home.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima had relapsed into silence. She was beginning to realize the +fact that her brother had made his will, which, after all, was not so very +strange a thing. But what was the nature of the will? She did not desire +to inherit her brother’s property herself. She was rich enough already. +But she was apprehensive that he might have made some foolish disposition +of his money of which she would<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 142]</span> not be able to approve. To whom, or to +what she would have desired him to leave his wealth, she could not, +perhaps, have told; but she would not be easy till she knew the contents +of his will. And yet she could not question her brother on the subject in +the presence of his secretary. The girl might be very well, but must not +be allowed to know too much.</p> + +<p>“If I don’t come back, Jemima,” said “Cobbler” Horn, as though he had read +his sister’s thoughts, “you will know what my will contains soon enough. +If I do—of which I have little doubt—I will tell you all about it +myself.”</p> + +<p>After dinner, “Cobbler” Horn retired, with his secretary, to the office, +for the purpose of dealing with the letters which had accumulated during +his absence from home. As they proceeded with their work, Miss Owen +learnt that, while her employer was away in America, she was to have +discretionary powers with regard to the whole of the correspondence. With +all her self-confidence, the young secretary was rather staggered by this +announcement; but she could obtain no release from the firm decree.</p> + +<p>“You see, I have perfect confidence in you, Miss Owen,” explained +“Cobbler” Horn, simply; “and besides, you know very well that, in most +cases, you are better able to decide what to do than I am myself. But, if +there are any of the letters that you would rather not deal with till I +come back, just let them wait.”</p> + +<p>This matter had been arranged during the first half-hour, in the course of +a dropping conversation,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 143]</span> carried on in the pauses of their work. They had +put in a few words here and there in the crannies and crevices of their +business so to speak. In the same manner, “Cobbler” Horn now proceeded to +tell his secretary of his interview with his lawyers, and of the making of +his will.</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker” had already become wonderfully attached to his +young secretary. She had exercised no arts; she had practised no wiles. +She was a sincere, guileless, Christian girl. Shrewd enough she was, +indeed, but utterly incapable of scheming for any manner of selfish or +sordid end. With her divine endowment of good looks and her consecrated +good nature, she could not fail to captivate; and there is small room for +wonder that she had made large inroads upon “Cobbler” Horn’s big heart.</p> + +<p>The degree to which his engaging young secretary had won the confidence of +“Cobbler” Horn will appear from the fact that he was about to reveal to +her, this afternoon, those particulars with regard to his recently-made +will the communication of which to his sister he had avowedly postponed. +It was not his intention to treat Miss Jemima with disrespect. He felt +that he could freely talk to Miss Owen; with his sister it would be a +matter of greater delicacy to deal. He often fancied that his young +secretary was just such as his darling Marian would have been; and quite +naturally, and very simply, he told her about his will, and even spoke of +the money that was to be invested for his lost child. He was quite able +now to<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 144]</span> talk calmly of the great sorrow of his life. The gentle and +continued rubbing of the hand of time had allayed its sharper pang.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of it all, Miss Owen?”</p> + +<p>“I think, Mr. Horn,” said the secretary, with the end of her penholder +between her ruby lips, and a wistful look in her dark eyes, “that your +daughter would be a very fortunate young lady, if she only knew it; and +that there are not many fathers like you.”</p> + +<p>“Then you think I have done well?”</p> + +<p>“I think, sir, that you have done better than well.”</p> + +<p>After another spell of work, Miss Owen looked up again with an eager face.</p> + +<p>“What was your little Marian like, Mr. Horn?” she asked, in a tender and +subdued tone.</p> + +<p>“Well, she was——” But the ardent girl took him up before he could +proceed.</p> + +<p>“Would she have grown to be anything like me? I suppose she would be about +my age.”</p> + +<p>She was leaning forward now, with her elbows on the table, and her hands +supporting her chin. Her richly-tinted cheeks glowed with interest; her +large, dark eyes shone like two bright stars. The question she had asked +could not be to her more than a subject of amiable curiosity; but no doubt +the enthusiastic nature of the girl fully accounted for the eagerness with +which she had spoken. Her sudden enquiry wafted “Cobbler” Horn back into +the past; and there rose before him the vision of a bonny little nut-brown +damsel of five summers, with eyes like sloes,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 145]</span> and a mass of dusky hair. +For an instant he caught his breath. He was startled to see, in the face +of his young secretary what he would probably never have detected, if her +question had not pointed it out.</p> + +<p>“Well, really, Miss Owen,” he said, simply, “now you speak of it, you are +something like what my little Marian may have grown to be by this time.”</p> + +<p>“How delicious!” exclaimed Miss Owen.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was gazing intently at his young secretary. What vague +surmisings, like shadows on a window-blind—were flitting through his +brain? What dim rays of hope were struggling to penetrate the gloom? +Suddenly he started, and shook himself, with a sigh. Of course it could +only be a fancy. How strange the frequent inability to perceive the +significance of circumstances plainly suggestive of the fulfilment of some +long-cherished hope! The joy, deferred so long comes, at last, in an hour +when we are not aware, only to find us utterly oblivious that it is so +near!</p> + +<p>“Well, Miss Owen,” said “Cobbler” Horn, rising to his feet, “I must be +going to my cobbling. If you want me, you will know where to come.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Horn.”</p> + +<p>She was aware of his custom of resorting now and then to his old workshop. +When he was gone, she paused for a moment, with her penholder once more +between her lips.</p> + +<p>“How nice to think that I am like what that dear little Marian would have +been! I wonder whether we should have been friends, if she had lived? +Poor<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 146]</span> little thing, she’s almost sure to be dead! Though, perhaps not—who +can tell? How queer that Mr. Horn should have lost a little girl, just as +I must have been lost, and about the same time too! As for my being like +her—perhaps, after all, that’s only a fancy of his. Well, at any rate, I +must comfort and help him all I can. I can’t step into his daughter’s +place exactly; but God has put it into my power to be to him, in many +things, what little Marian would have been if he had not lost her; and +for Christ’s sake——”</p> + +<p>At this point, the young secretary’s thoughts became too sacred for prying +eyes. Very soon she turned to her writing again. Half an hour later, the +afternoon post arrived, bringing, amongst other letters, one or two which +necessitated an immediate interview with “Cobbler” Horn. To trip up to her +bedroom and dress herself for going out was the work of a very few +moments; and in a short time she was entering the street where “Cobbler” +Horn and his sister had lived so long, and whence the hapless little +Marian had so heedlessly set out into the great world, on that bright +May morning so many years ago.</p> + +<p>As Miss Owen entered the narrow street, she involuntarily raised her hand +to her forehead. The weird feeling of familiarity with the old house and +its vicinity, of which she had already been conscious more than once, had +crept over her again.</p> + +<p>“How very strange!” she said to herself. “But there can’t be anything in +it!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 147]</span>As she approached the house, she became aware of the unconcealed scrutiny +of a little man who was standing in the doorway of a shop on the other +side of the street.</p> + +<p>It was Tommy Dudgeon, who had just then come to the door to show a +customer out, a civility which he was wont to bestow, if possible, upon +every one who came to the shop. Lingering for a moment, in the hope of +descrying another customer, he saw Miss Owen coming down the street. Tommy +knew about “Cobbler” Horn’s secretary; but he had not, as yet, had a fair +view of the young lady. He had not even thought much about her, and he did +not suspect that it was she who was now coming along the street, until she +passed into the old house. But, as he saw her now, with her black hair and +dark glowing face, walking along the pavement in her decided way, he felt, +as he afterwards said, “quite all-overish like.” It was, at first, the +vaguest of impressions that he received. Then, as he gazed, he began to +think that he had seen that figure before—though he continued to assure +himself that he had not; and then, as Miss Owen drew nearer, he concluded +that there must be some one of whom she reminded him—some one whom he had +known long ago. Then, with a flash, came back to him the scene—never to +be forgotten—on that long-ago May morning; and Tommy Dudgeon heaved a +sigh, for he had obtained his clue.</p> + +<p>“What a rude little man!” thought Miss Owen. “And yet he looks harmless +enough. Why he must be one of the little twin shopkeepers of whom I have<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 148]</span> +heard Mr. Horn speak. That will account for his interest in me.”</p> + +<p>The absorption of the young secretary in the duties of her office, during +her stay in the old house, no doubt fully accounted for the fact that she +had not become more familiar with the appearance of Tommy Dudgeon.</p> + +<p>By this time Tommy had withdrawn into his shop. But he continued to watch. +Standing partly concealed behind some of the merchandise displayed in the +shop window, he saw Miss Owen enter “Cobbler” Horn’s former abode, and +then waited for her once more to emerge.</p> + +<p>In ten minutes the young secretary again appeared. Pausing on the +door-step, she looked this way and that, and then, with emphatic tread, +stepped out in the very track of the little twinkling feet which Tommy had +watched in their last departure on that ill-fated spring morning so long +ago. The little man craned his neck to see the better through the window, +and then, unable to restrain himself, he hurried to the doorway of the +shop once more, and, with enlightened eyes, watched the figure of the girl +till it passed out of sight. Then he turned, and rushed into the kitchen +behind the shop. His brother was trying to put one of the twins to sleep +by carrying it to and fro; his brother’s wife was making bread. He raised +his hands.</p> + +<p>“She’s come back!” he cried. Then, recollecting himself, he said, more +quietly, “I mean I’ve seen the sec’tary.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 149]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>ON THE OCEAN.</strong></p> + + +<p>The evening of the next day saw “the Golden Shoemaker” steaming out of the +Mersey, on board the first-rate Atlantic liner on which his passage had +been taken by Messrs. Tongs and Ball. Miss Jemima had bidden her brother +a reluctant farewell. In her secret soul, she nursed a doubt, of which, +indeed, she was half-ashamed, as to the prospect of his safe return; and +she endeavoured to fortify her timorous heart by the utterance of sundry +sharp speeches concerning the folly of his enterprise.</p> + +<p>The voyage across the great ocean, in the splendid <em>floating hotel</em> in +which he had embarked was a new and delightful experience to “Cobbler” +Horn. But his peace of mind sustained brief disturbance on his being shown +to his quarters on board the vessel. His lawyers had, as a matter of +course, taken for their<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 150]</span> wealthy client a first-class passage. It had not +occurred to him to give them any instructions on the point, and they had +taken it for granted that they were doing what he would desire. Perhaps, +if they had asked him, he might, in his ignorance of such matters, have +said, “Oh yes, first-class, by all means.” But when he saw the splendid +accommodation which his money had procured, he started back, and said to +the attendant:</p> + +<p>“This is much too grand for me. Can’t I make a change?”</p> + +<p>The attendant stared in surprise.</p> + +<p>“’Fraid not sir,” he said, “every second-class berth is taken.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind about the money,” said “Cobbler” Horn hastily. “But I should +be more comfortable in a plainer cabin,” and he looked around uneasily at +the luxurious and splendid appointments of the quarters which had been +assigned to him, as his home, for the next few days.</p> + +<p>The attendant, regarding with a critical eye the modest attire and +unassuming demeanour of “Cobbler” Horn, inwardly agreed with what this +somewhat eccentric passenger had said.</p> + +<p>“The only way, sir,” said the man, at length, “is to get some one to +change with you.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, the very thing! How can it be managed?”</p> + +<p>The attendant mused with hand on chin.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir,” he said, gliding into an interrogative tone, “if you really +mean it——?”</p> + +<p>“Most certainly I do.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 151]</span>“Then I think I can arrange it for you, sir. There is one second-class +passenger who would probably jump at such a chance. He is an invalid; and +it would be a great comfort to him to get into such quarters as these. +I’ve heard a good bit about him since he came on board.”</p> + +<p>“Then he’s our man,” said “Cobbler” Horn; and then, he added hesitatingly, +“there’ll be a sovereign for you, if you manage it at once. I’ll wait here +till you let me know.”</p> + +<p>The attendant sped on his errand, and, before night, the desired exchange +had been duly made—“Cobbler” Horn was established in the comfortable and +congenial accommodation afforded by a second-class cabin, and the invalid +passenger was blessing his unknown benefactor, as he sank to rest amidst +the luxury of his new surroundings.</p> + +<p>It was late autumn, and the sea, though not stormy, was sufficiently +restless to make the commencement of the passage unpleasant for all who +were not good sailors. “Cobbler” Horn was not one of these; and, when, +upon the second day out, he observed the deserted appearance of the decks +and saloons, and, on making enquiry of an official, learnt that most of +the passengers were sick, he realized with a healthy and grateful thrill +of pleasure, that he was blessed with immunity from the almost universal +tribulation which waylays the landsman who ventures on the treacherous +deep.</p> + +<p>It will, therefore, be readily believed that “the Golden Shoemaker” keenly +enjoyed the whole of the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 152]</span> voyage. He breathed the fresh, briny air with +much relish; the wonders of the sea furnished him with many instructive +and pious thoughts; and the ship itself supplied him with an inexhaustible +fund of interest. In particular, he paid frequent visits to the steerage, +where large numbers of emigrants were bestowed. He spent many hours +amongst these poor people; and, by entering into conversation with such of +them as were disposed to talk, he became acquainted with many cases of +necessity, which he was not slow to relieve. Nor did the gifts of money, +which he bestowed with his usual large generosity, constitute the only +form of help he gave. In a thousand nameless ways he ministered to the +wants and relieved the difficulties of his humble fellow-passengers, who +quickly came to look upon him as the good genius of the ship. As a matter +of course, the whisper soon went round, “Who is he?” And when, in some +inscrutable way, the truth leaked out, the poor people regarded him with a +kind of awe. Some, indeed, criticised, and said he did not look much like +a millionaire; but there were many in that motley crowd in whose hearts, +during those few brief days on the ocean, “Cobbler” Horn made for himself +a very sacred place.</p> + +<p>In the course of a day or two, the decks and saloons began to assume a +more animated appearance. Hitherto “Cobbler” Horn had not greatly +attracted the attention of the passengers with whom he was more +immediately associated; but now that they were in a condition to think +of something other than<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 153]</span> their own concerns, their interest in him began +to awake. Who had not heard of “the Golden Shoemaker”—“The Millionaire +Cordwainer”—“The Lucky Son of Crispin”—as he had been variously +designated in the newspapers of the day? When it became known that so +great a celebrity was on board, there was a general desire to make his +acquaintance. Some vainly asked the captain to give them an introduction; +some boldly introduced themselves.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was courteous to all, in his homely way; but he showed no +anxiety to become further acquainted with these obtrusive persons. The +simplicity of his manners and the plainness of his dress caused much +surprise; and the public interest concerning him sensibly quickened when +whispers floated forth of the giving up of his berth to the invalid +passenger, and of his charitable doings amongst the poor emigrants.</p> + +<p>During the voyage, “the Golden Shoemaker” spent much time in close and +prayerful study of his Bible, which had ever been, and still was, his +dearest, and well nigh his only, book. He was induced to do this not only +by his love of the Book itself, but also by a definite desire to absorb, +and transfuse into his own experience, all those teachings of the Word of +God which bore upon the new position in which he had been so strangely +placed.</p> + +<p>First of all, he turned to certain notable passages of Scripture which +shot up before his memory like well-known beacon-lights along a rocky +coast. There glared upon him, first of all, the lurid denunciation<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 154]</span> which +opens the fifth chapter of the Epistle of James, commencing, “Go to now, +ye rich men, weep and howl for your miseries that shall come upon you!” +“God forbid,” he cried, “that my ‘gold and silver’ should ever become +‘cankered!’ It would be a terrible thing for their ‘rust’ to ‘witness +against me,’ and eat my ‘flesh as it were fire’; and it would be yet more +dreadful for the money which has such power for good to be itself given +up to canker and rust!” Then he would meditate on the uncompromising +declarations of Christ—“How hardly shall they that have riches enter into +the Kingdom of God!” “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a +needle, than for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of God.” He trembled +as he read; but, pondering, he took heart again. Though hard, it was not +impossible, for a man of wealth to enter into the Kingdom of God. “Camel!” +“Eye of a Needle!” He did not know exactly what this strange saying meant; +but he thought he had heard the minister say that it was intended to show +the great difficulty involved in the salvation of a rich man. Then he read +further, “How hard is it for them that trust in riches to enter into the +Kingdom of God,” and that seemed to make the matter plain. “Ah,” he +thought, “may I be saved from ever trusting in my riches!”</p> + +<p>He plucked an ear of wholesome admonition from the parable of the Sower. +“The deceitfulness of riches!” he murmured. “How true!” And he subjected +himself to the most vigilant scrutiny, lest he should be beguiled by the +unlimited possibilities of<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 155]</span> self-indulgence which his wealth supplied. He +turned frequently to the emphatic declaration of Paul to Timothy. “They +that will be rich,” it runs, “fall into temptation and a snare, and into +many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and +perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some +coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves +through with many sorrows.” “Ah!” he would exclaim, “I didn’t want to be +rich. At the very most Agur’s prayer would have been mine: ‘Give me +neither poverty nor riches.’ But it’s quite true that riches bring +‘temptations’ and are a ‘snare,’ whether people ‘will’ be rich or become +rich against their will; and I must be on the watch. And then there’s that +about ‘the love of money’ being ‘the root of all evil!’” As he spoke, he +drew a handful of coins from his pocket, and eyed them askance. “Queer +things to love!” he mused. And then, as he thought of his balance at the +bank, his large rent-roll, and his many profitable investments, his face +grew very grave. “Ah,” he sighed, letting copper, silver, and gold, slide +jingling back into his pocket, “I think I have an idea how some people get +to love their money. Lord save <em>me</em>.”</p> + +<p>He was very fond of the book of Proverbs. Its short, sententious sentences +were altogether to his mind. “There is that scattereth,” he read, “and yet +increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it +tendeth to poverty.” “I scatter,” he said; “but I don’t want to increase. +Lord, spare me<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 156]</span> the consequences of my scattering! ‘Withholdeth more than +is meet’! Lord, by Thy grace, that will not I! I have no objection to +poverty; but I would not have it come in that way!”</p> + +<p>“There is that maketh himself rich,” he read again, “Yet hath nothing; +there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches.” “Ah,” he +sighed, “to possess such riches, I would gladly make myself poor!” But +there was one text in the book of Proverbs which “Cobbler” Horn could +never read without a smile. “The poor,” it ran “is hated even of his own +neighbour; but the rich hath many friends.” He thought of his daily shoals +of letters, of the numerous visiting cards which had been left at the door +of his new abode, and of the obsequious attentions he had begun to receive +from the office-bearers and leading members of his church; and he called +to mind the eagerness of his fellow-voyagers to make his acquaintance. +“Ah” he mused shrewdly, “friends, like most good things, are chiefly to +be had when you don’t need them!”</p> + +<p>In these sacred studies, the days passed swiftly for “the Golden +Shoemaker.” Very different were the methods by which the majority of his +fellow-passengers endeavoured to beguile the time. Amongst the least +objectionable of these were concerts, theatricals, billiards, and all +kinds of games. Much time was spent by the ladies in idle chat, to which +the gentlemen added the seductions of cigar and pipe. There were not a +few of the passengers, moreover, who resorted to the vicious excitement +of betting;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 157]</span> and “Cobbler” Horn marked with amazement and horror the +eagerness with which they staked their money on a variety of unutterably +trivial questions. The disposition of really large sums of money was made +to depend, on whether a certain cloud would obscure the sun or not; +whether a large bird, seen as they neared the land, would sweep by on one +side of the ship or the other; whether the pilot would prove to be tall or +short; and upon a multitude of other matters so utterly unimportant, that +“the Golden Shoemaker” began to think he was voyaging with a company of +escaped lunatics.</p> + +<p>To one gentleman, who proposed to take a bet with him as to the +nationality of the next vessel they might happen to meet, he gave a +characteristic reply.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” he said gravely, “I am not anxious on that subject; and, if I +were, I should wait for the appearance of the vessel itself. Besides, I +cannot think it right to risk my money in the way you propose. I dare not +throw away upon a mere frivolity what God has given me to use for the good +of my fellows. And then, if we were to bet, as you suggest, the one who +happened to win would be receiving what he had no moral right to possess. +I don’t——”</p> + +<p>Thus far the would-be better had listened patiently. But it was a bet he +wanted, and not a sermon.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” he therefore said, at this point, “I see I have made +a mistake;” and with a polite bow, he moved hastily away.</p> + +<p>One fine evening, towards the end of the voyage, as “Cobbler” Horn was +taking the air on deck, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> was accosted by the attendant who had arranged +the transfer of his berth from first to second-class.</p> + +<p>“The gentleman, sir,” he said, touching his cap, “who took your cabin——he——”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” interrupted “Cobbler” Horn; “how is he? Better, I hope.”</p> + +<p>“Much better, sir; and he thought, perhaps you would see him.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know what he wants?” asked “Cobbler” Horn, in a hesitating tone.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir,” replied the man, “he didn’t exactly say; but I rather suspect +it’s a little matter of thanks. And, begging your pardon, sir, it’s very +natural.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was not offended at the man’s freedom of address, as +another in his place might have been.</p> + +<p>“If that is all, then,” he said, “I think he must excuse me. I deserve no +thanks. I consulted my own inclination, as much as his comfort. I am glad +he is better. Tell him he is heartily welcome, and ask him if there is +anything more I can do.”</p> + +<p>The next morning, as “Cobbler” Horn stood talking, for a minute or so, to +the captain, the obsequious attendant once more appeared. Touching his cap +with double emphasis, in honour of the captain, he handed a letter to +“Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“From the gentleman in your cabin, sir. No answer, sir——I was told to +say,” and, once more touching his cap, the polite functionary marched +sedately away.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 159]</span></p> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 364px;"> +<img src="images/img158.jpg" width="364" height="562" alt="Gentlemen" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“‘From the gentleman in your cabin, sir.’”<br />—<a href="#Page_158"><em>Page 158</em></a>.</span> +</div> + + +<p>“I must leave you to read your letter, Mr. Horn,” <span class='pagenum'>[Pg 161]</span>said the captain; +and, with the word, he withdrew to attend to his duties in another part +of the ship.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn’s letter was brief, and ran as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>“Though I may not in person express my gratitude for your great +kindness, I have that to tell which you ought to know. Poverty, +sickness, loss of dear ones, perfidy of professed friends, and ills +of all imaginable kinds, have fallen to my lot. I am an American. I +have a young wife, and a dear little girl in New York. I have been +to Europe upon what has turned out a most disastrous business trip. +I came on board this vessel a battered, broken man, not knowing, +and scarcely caring, whether I should live to reach the other side. +Faith in Christianity, in religion, in God Himself, I had utterly +renounced. But I want to tell you that all that is changed. I now +wish, and hope, to live; my health is vastly improved; and—will +you let me say it without offence?—I find myself able once more to +believe in God, and in such religion as yours. I will not again ask +you to see me; but if, after reading this letter, you should feel +inclined to pay me a visit, I need not tell you how delighted I +should be.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">“I am,</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 6em;">“Dear Sir,</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">“Yours gratefully,</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 10em;">“THADDEUS P. WALDRON.”</span></p> +</div> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn read this gratifying letter over and over again, with a +secret joy. But it was not till the next day that he could bring himself +to comply with the invitation of its closing sentence, and pay a visit<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 162]</span> to +the writer. He found the young man, who was far on his way to recovery, +full of thankfulness to him and of gratitude to God. It seemed that, +previous to the accumulation of troubles beneath which his faith had given +away, the young fellow had been a zealous Christian. “Cobbler” Horn found +him sincerely penitent; and, during this, and succeeding interviews, he +had the joy of leading him back to the Saviour.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 163]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>COUSIN JACK.</strong></p> + + +<p>As “Cobbler” Horn was leaving the vessel at New York, he witnessed the +meeting of Thaddeus P. Waldron and his wife. Mrs. Waldron had come on +board the steamer. She was a wholesome, glowing little woman, encumbered +with no inconvenient quantity of reserve. She flung her arms impulsively +around her husband’s neck, and kissed him with a smack like the report of +a pistol.</p> + +<p>“Why, Thad,” she cried, “do tell! You’ve completely taken me in! I +expected a scarecrow. What for did you frighten me with that letter I +got last week? It might have been my death!”</p> + +<p>Then, with a little trill of a laugh, the happy woman hugged once more +the equally delighted “Thad,” and gave him another resounding kiss.</p> + +<p>By this time the attention of those who were passing to and fro around +them began to be attracted; and, amongst the rest, “Cobbler” Horn, who +was held<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 164]</span> for a few moments in the crowd, was watching them with deep +interest.</p> + +<p>“Hold hard, little woman,” exclaimed Thaddeus, “or I guess I sha’n’t have +breath left to tell you my news! And,” he added, “it’s better even than +you think.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Thad, do tell!” she cried, still regarding her husband with admiring +eyes.</p> + +<p>“Well, my health has been fixed up by the sea air, and the comfort and +attention I’ve had during the voyage, which is all through the goodness +of one man. I calculate that man ’ull have to show up before we leave +this vessel. He wasn’t out of sight five minutes ago.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he looked round, and saw the figure of “Cobbler” Horn, who, +evidently in dread of a demonstration on the part of his grateful friend, +was modestly moving away amongst the crowd. One stride of Thaddeus P. +Waldron’s long legs, and he had his benefactor by the arm.</p> + +<p>“Here, stranger—no, darn it all, you aren’t a stranger, no how you fix +it—this way sir, if <em>you</em> please.”</p> + +<p>“Now, little woman,” he exclaimed, triumphantly dragging his reluctant +captive towards his wife, “this is the man you have to thank—this man +and God! He gave up——”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” interrupted “Cobbler” Horn, “you mustn’t allow him to thank me for +that, ma-am. I did it quite as much for my own sake.”</p> + +<p>“Hear him!” exclaimed Thaddeus, with incredulous<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 165]</span> admiration. “Anyhow he +made me think, little wife, that there was some genuine religion in the +world after all. And that helped me to get better too. And the long and +short of it is, I’ve been made a new man of, inside and out; and we’re +going to have some real good times! And now, old girl, you’ve just got +to give the man whose done it all a hug and a buss, and then we’ll come +along.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn started back in dismay. But Mrs. Thaddeus was thoroughly of +her husband’s mind. What he had been, as she knew from his letters, and +what she found him now, passed through her mind in a flash. She was modest +enough, but not squeamish; and the honest face of “Cobbler” Horn was one +which no woman, under the circumstances, need have hesitated to kiss. So, +in a moment, to the amusement of the crowd, to the huge delight of the +grateful Thaddeus, and to the confusion of “the Golden Shoemaker” himself, +the thing was done.</p> + +<p>The next minute, the happy and grateful couple were gone, and “Cobbler” +Horn had scarcely time to recover his composure before he found himself +greeted by the agent of Messrs. Tongs and Ball, who, having been furnished +by those gentlemen with a particular description of the personal +appearance of their eccentric client, had experienced but little +difficulty in singling him out. From this gentleman “Cobbler” Horn learnt +that his ill-fated cousin had been removed from the wretched lodgings +where he was found to the best private hospital in New York, where he was +receiving every possible care. The agent had also<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 166]</span> engaged apartments for +“Cobbler” Horn himself in a first-class hotel in the neighbourhood of the +hospital. It was a great relief to “Cobbler” Horn that his conductor had +undertaken the care of his luggage, and the management of everything +connected with his debarkation. He was realizing more and more the immense +advantages conferred by wealth. On being shown into the splendid +apartments which had been engaged for him in the hotel, he shrank back as +he had done from the first-class accommodation assigned to him on board +the steam-boat. But this time he was obliged to submit. Wealth has its +penalties, as well as its advantages.</p> + +<p>It was early in the forenoon when the vessel arrived; and, when “the +Golden Shoemaker” was duly installed in his luxurious quarters at the +hotel, the agent left him, having first promised to come back at three +o’clock, and conduct him to the bedside of his cousin.</p> + +<p>At the appointed time the agent returned.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was eager to be going, and they at once set out. A few +minutes brought them to the hospital where his cousin lay. They were +immediately shown in, and “Cobbler” Horn found himself entering a bright +and airy chamber, where he presently stood beside his cousin’s bed.</p> + +<p>The sick man had been apprised of the approaching visit of his generous +relative from over the water, and he regarded “Cobbler” Horn now with a +kind of dull wonder in his hollow eyes. At the same time he held out a +hand which was wasted almost to transparency.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 167]</span> “Cobbler” Horn took the +thin fingers in his strong grasp; and, as he looked, with a great pity, on +the sunken cheeks, the protruding mouth, the dark gleaming eyes, and the +contracted forehead with its setting of black damp hair, he thought that, +if ever he had seen the stamp of death upon a human face, he saw it now.</p> + +<p>“Well, cousin Jack,” he said sadly, “it grieves me that our first meeting +should be like this.”</p> + +<p>Cousin Jack, struggling with strong emotion, regarded his visitor with a +fixed look. His mouth worked convulsively, and it was some moments before +he could speak. At length he found utterance, in hollow tones, and with +laboured breath.</p> + +<p>“Have you—come all this way—across the water—on purpose to see me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied “Cobbler” Horn, simply, “of course I have. I wanted you to +know that you are to have your honest share of our poor uncle’s money. And +because I was determined to make sure that everything was done for you +that could be done, and because I wished to do some little for you myself, +I did not send, but came.”</p> + +<p>“Uncle’s money! Ah, yes, they told me about it. Well, you might have kept +it all; and it’s very good of you—very. But money won’t be much use to me +very long. It’s your coming that I take so kindly. You see, I hadn’t a +friend; and it seemed so dreadful to die like that. Oh, it was good of you +to come!”</p> + +<p>In his wonder at the loving solicitude which had brought his cousin across +the water to his dying bed,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 168]</span> he almost seemed to undervalue the act of +rare unselfishness by which so much money had been relinquished which +might have been kept without fear of reproach. “Cobbler” Horn was not hurt +by the seeming insensibility of his poor cousin to the great sacrifice he +had made on his behalf. He did not desire, nor did he think that he +deserved, any credit for what he had done. He had simply done his duty, as +a matter of course. But he was much gratified that his poor cousin was so +grateful for his coming. He sat down, with shining eyes, by the bedside, +and took the wasted hand in his once more.</p> + +<p>“Cousin,” he asked, “have they cared for you in every way?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, cousin, they have done what they could, thanks to your goodness!”</p> + +<p>“Not at all. Your own money will pay the bill, you know.”</p> + +<p>For a moment cousin Jack was perplexed. His own money? He had not a cent. +in the world! He had actually forgotten that his cousin had made him rich.</p> + +<p>“My own money?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; the third part of what uncle left you know.”</p> + +<p>A slight flush mantled the hollow cheeks.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes; what a dunce I am! I’m afraid I’m very ungrateful. But you see I +seem to have done with such things. And yet the money is going to be of +some use to me after all.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that it is! It shall bring you comfort, ease, and, if possible, +health and life.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 169]</span>The sick man shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said, wistfully; “a little of the first two, perhaps, but none of +the last. I know I can’t live many weeks; and it’s no use deceiving myself +with false hopes.”</p> + +<p>As “Cobbler” Horn looked at his cousin, he knew that he was not mistaken +in his forecast.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn did not remain long with his sick cousin at this time.</p> + +<p>“There is one thing I should like,” he said gravely, as he rose from his +seat.</p> + +<p>“There is not much that I can deny you,” replied Jack; “what is it?”</p> + +<p>He spoke without much show of interest.</p> + +<p>“I should like to pray with you before I go.”</p> + +<p>Cousin Jack started, and again his pale face flushed.</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” he said, “if you wish it; but it will be of no use. Nothing +is of any use now.”</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker” knelt down beside the bed, and prayed for his dying +cousin, in his own simple, fervent way. Then, with a promise to come again +on the following day, he passed out of the room.</p> + +<p>The prayer had been brief, and poor Jack had listened to it with heedless +resignation; but it had struck a chord in his bruised heart which +continued to vibrate long after his visitor was gone.</p> + +<p>The next day “Cobbler” Horn found his cousin in a more serious mood. The +poor young man told him something of his sad history; and “Cobbler” Horn +spoke many earnest and faithful words. It became<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 170]</span> increasingly evident to +“Cobbler” Horn, day by day, that life was ebbing fast within his cousin’s +shattered frame; and he grew ever more anxious to bring the poor young +fellow to the Saviour. But somehow the work seemed to drag. Jack would +express a desire for salvation; and yet, somehow he seemed to be holding +back. The hindrance was revealed, one day, by a stray question asked by +“Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“How about your will, Jack?”</p> + +<p>Jack stared blankly.</p> + +<p>“My will? Why should I make a will?”</p> + +<p>“Because you have some money to leave.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! Whose will it be, if I die without a will?”</p> + +<p>“Mine, I suppose,” said “Cobbler” Horn reluctantly, after a moment’s +thought.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, let it be; nothing could be better.”</p> + +<p>“But is there no one to whom you would like to leave your money?”</p> + +<p>Jack looked fixedly at the already beloved face of his cousin. Then his +own face worked convulsively, and he covered it with his wasted fingers.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” he said, in tones of distress; “there is some one. That +is—— You are sure the money is really my own?”</p> + +<p>He seemed all eagerness now to possess his share of the money.</p> + +<p>“To be sure it is,” responded “Cobbler” Horn. “That is quite settled.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, there is a poor girl who would have given her life for mine; +but I have behaved to her like a brute. She shall have every penny of +it.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 171]</span>“Cobbler” Horn listened with intense interest, and at once gave expression +to a burning apprehension which had instantly pierced his mind.</p> + +<p>“Behaved like a brute!” he exclaimed. “Not in the worst way of all, I +hope, Jack?”</p> + +<p>“No, no, not that!” cried Jack, in horror.</p> + +<p>“Thank God! But now, do you know where this poor girl is to be found?”</p> + +<p>“I think so. Her name is Bertha Norman, and her parents live in a village +only a few miles from here. When I gave her up, I believe she left her +situation, here in the city, and went home with a broken heart.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Jack, your decision will meet with the approval of God. But, in +the meantime, we must try to find this poor girl.”</p> + +<p>“If you only would!”</p> + +<p>“Of course. But, with regard to the other matter—you would like to have +the thing done at once?”</p> + +<p>“The thing?”</p> + +<p>“The will.”</p> + +<p>“Oh yes; it would be better so.”</p> + +<p>“Then we’ll arrange, if possible, for this afternoon. Perhaps you know a +lawyer?”</p> + +<p>“No. Amongst all my follies, I have kept out of the hands of the lawyers. +But there is the gentleman who rescued me from that den, where I should +have been dead by now. Perhaps he would do?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, the agent of my lawyers in London! Well, I’ll see him at once.”</p> + +<p>So the thing was done. That afternoon the lawyer<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 172]</span> came to receive +instructions, and the next morning the will was presented and duly signed.</p> + +<p>When the lawyer was gone, Jack turned feebly to “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“There’s just one thing more,” he said. “I must see her, and tell her +about it myself.”</p> + +<p>“Would she come” asked “Cobbler” Horn. “And do you think it would be +well?”</p> + +<p>“‘Come’? She would come, if I were dying at North Pole. And there will be +no peace for me, till I have heard from her own lips that she has forgiven +me.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” ejaculated “Cobbler” Horn. “Do you say so?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, cousin; I feel that it’s no use to ask pardon of God, till Bertha +has forgiven me. You know what I mean.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said “Cobbler” Horn gently; “I know what you mean, and I’ll do what +I can.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you!” said Jack, fervently. “But it mustn’t be by letter. You must +go and see her yourself, if you will; and I don’t think you will refuse.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn shrank, at first, from so delicate and difficult a mission, +for which he pronounced himself utterly unfit. But the pathetic appeal of +the dark, hollow eyes, which gleamed upon him from the pillow, ultimately +prevailed.</p> + +<p>“Tell her,” said Jack, as “Cobbler” Horn wished him good night, “that I +dare not ask pardon of God, till I have her forgiveness from her own +lips.”</p> + +<p>In a village almost English in its rural loveliness<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 173]</span> “Cobbler” Horn found +himself, the next morning, face to face, in the little front-room of a +humble cottage, with a pale, sorrowful maiden, on whose +pensively-beautiful face hope and fear mingled their lights and shadows +while he delivered his tender message.</p> + +<p>“Would she go with him?”</p> + +<p>“Go?” she exclaimed, with trembling eagerness, “of course I will! But how +good it is of you, sir—a stranger, to come like this!”</p> + +<p>So Bertha Norman came back with “Cobbler” Horn to the private hospital in +New York. He put her into her cousin’s room, closed the door, and then +quietly came downstairs. Bertha did not notice that her conductor had +withdrawn. She flew to the bedside. The dying man put out a trembling +hand.</p> + +<p>“Forgive——” he began in broken tones.</p> + +<p>But she stifled his words with gentle kisses, and, sitting down by the +bed, clasped his poor thin hand.</p> + +<p>“Ask God to forgive you, dear Jack. I’ve never stopped loving you a bit!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will ask God that,” he said. “I can now. But I want to tell you +something first, Bertha. I am a rich man.”</p> + +<p>Then he told her the wonderful story.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” she exclaimed, “that was your friend who brought me here. I felt +that he was good.”</p> + +<p>“He is,” said Jack. “And now Bertha, it’s all yours. I’ve made my will, +and the money is to come to you when I’m gone. You know I’m going, +Bertha?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 174]</span>She tightened the grasp of her hand on his with a convulsive movement, +but did not speak.</p> + +<p>“It ’ull be your very own, Bertha,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, thank you, dear Jack. But forgive me, if I don’t think much about +that just now.”</p> + +<p>Then there was a brief silence, which was presently broken by Jack.</p> + +<p>“You won’t leave me, yet, Bertha? You’ll stay with me a little while?”</p> + +<p>“Jack I shall never leave you any more!” and there was a world of love +in her gentle eyes.</p> + +<p>“Thank God!” murmured the dying man. “Till——till——you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but, Jack, you must come back to God!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will. But call cousin Thomas in.”</p> + +<p>She found “the Golden Shoemaker” in a small sitting-room downstairs; and, +having brought him up to the sick-chamber, stood before him in the middle +of the room, and, taking his big hand, gently lifted it, with both her +tiny white ones, to her lips.</p> + +<p>“In the presence of my dear Jack,” she said, “I thank you. But, dear +friend, I think you should take the money back when he is gone.”</p> + +<p>“My dear young lady,” protested “Cobbler” Horn, with uplifted hand, “how +can I take it, seeing it is not mine? But,” he added softly, “we will not +speak of it now.”</p> + +<p>True to her promise, Bertha did not leave her beloved Jack until the end; +and the regular attendants, supplied by the house, so far from regarding +her presence as an intrusion, were easily induced to look<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 175]</span> upon her as one +of themselves. “Cobbler” Horn was rarely absent during the day-time; and, +in the brief remaining space of poor Jack’s chequered life, his gentle +lover, and his high-souled cousin, had the great joy of leading him to +entertain a genuine trust in the Saviour. The end came so suddenly, that +they had no time for parting words; but they had good hope, as they +reverently closed his eyes. When all was over, and he had been laid to +rest in the cemetery, “Cobbler” Horn took Bertha back to her village home, +and then set his face once more towards England, bearing in his heart a +chastened memory, and the image of a sweet, pensive face.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 176]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>HOME AGAIN.</strong></p> + + +<p>It was with feelings of deep gratitude to God that “Cobbler” Horn set foot +once more upon his native land. After having been away no longer than four +weeks, he landed at Liverpool on a bright winter’s morning, and, taking an +early train, reached Cottonborough about mid-day. He had telegraphed the +time of his arrival, and Bounder, the coachman, was at the station to +meet him with the dog-cart. He had sent his message for the purpose of +preparing his sister for his arrival; for he knew she preferred not to be +taken unawares by such events. If he had given the matter a thought, he +would have told them not to send to meet him at the station. He would +much rather have walked, than ridden, a distance so short. And then he +shrank, at all times, from the idea of making a public parade of his +newly-acquired state. And, if all the truth must be told, he was—not +awed, but mildly irritated, by the imposing presence, and reproachful +civility, of the ideal Bounder.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 177]</span>Here was Bounder now, with his dignified salute. “Cobbler” Horn yearned to +give the man a hearty shake of the hand, and ask him sociably how he had +been getting on. This was obviously out of the question; but, just then, +little Tommy Dudgeon happened to come up, on his way into the station. +Here was an opportunity not to be let slip, and “Cobbler” Horn seized with +avidity on his humble little friend, and gave him the hearty hand-shake +which he would fain have bestowed upon the high and mighty Bounder. It was +a means of grace to “the Golden Shoemaker” once more to clasp the hand of +a compatriot and a friend. He stood talking to Tommy for a few minutes, +while Bounder waited in his seat with an expression of very slightly +veiled scorn on his majestic face.</p> + +<p>At length, quite oblivious of the contemptuous disapproval of his +coachman, and greatly refreshed in spirit, “Cobbler” Horn bade his little +friend “good day,” and mounted to his seat.</p> + +<p>They drove off in silence. “Cobbler” Horn scarcely knew whether his +exacting coachman would think it proper for his master to enter into +conversation with him; and the coachman, on his part, would not be guilty +of such a breach of decorum as to speak to his master when his master had +not first spoken to him.</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima was standing in the doorway to receive her brother; and behind +her, with a radiant face, modestly waited the young secretary. Miss Jemima +presented her cheek, as though for the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 178]</span> performance of a surgical +operation, and “Cobbler” Horn kissed it with a hearty smack. At the +same time he grasped her hand.</p> + +<p>“Well, Jemima,” he exclaimed, “I’m back again safe and sound, you see!”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” was the solemn response, “I’m thankful to see you, brother,—and +relieved.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn laughed heartily, and kissed her on the other cheek.</p> + +<p>“Thankful enough, Jemima, let us be. But ‘relieved’! well, I had no fear. +You see, my dear sister, the whole round world lies in the hand of God. +And, then, I didn’t understand the way the Lord has been dealing with me +of late to mean that he was going to allow me to be cut off quite so soon +as that.”</p> + +<p>This was said cheerily, and not at all in a preaching tone; and having +said it, “Cobbler” Horn turned, with genuine pleasure, to exchange a +genial greeting with his young secretary, who had remained sedately in +the background.</p> + +<p>“Dinner is almost ready,” said Miss Jemima, as they entered the house; +“so you must not spend long in your room.”</p> + +<p>“I promise you,” said her brother, from the stairs, “that I shall be at +the table almost as soon as the dinner itself.”</p> + +<p>During dinner, “Cobbler” Horn talked much about his voyage to and fro, and +his impressions of America. He had sent, by letter, during his absence, a +regular report, from time to time, of the progress of the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 179]</span> sorrowful +business which had taken him across the sea; and with regard to that +neither he nor his sister was now inclined to speak at large.</p> + +<p>After dinner, “Cobbler” Horn, somewhat to his sister’s mortification, +retired to the office, for the purpose of receiving, from his secretary, a +report of the correspondence which had passed through her hands during his +absence.</p> + +<p>Let it not be supposed that Miss Jemima was capable of entertaining +suspicion with regard to her brother. She would frown upon his doings and +disapprove of his opinions, with complete unreserve; but she would not +admit concerning him a shadow of mistrust. When, therefore, it is recorded +that his frequent and close intercourse with his young secretary +occasioned his sister uneasiness of mind, it must not be supposed that any +evil imagining intruded upon her thoughts. Miss Jemima was simply fearful +lest this young girl should, perhaps inadvertently, steal into the place +in her brother’s heart which belonged to her. As “Cobbler” Horn and his +secretary sat in counsel, from time to time, in their respective +arm-chairs, at the opposite ends of the office table, neither of them +had any suspicion of Miss Jemima’s jealous fears.</p> + +<p>Miss Owen had dealt diligently, and with much shrewdness, with the +ever-inflowing tide of letters. Her labour was much lightened now by +reason of “Cobbler” Horn’s having provided her with the best type-writer +that could be obtained for money. With regard to some of the letters, she +had ventured<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 180]</span> to avail herself of the advice of the minister; and she had +also, with great tact, consulted Miss Jemima on points with reference to +which the opinion of that lady was likely to be sound and safe. The +consequence was that the letters which remained to be considered were +comparatively few.</p> + +<p>First, Miss Owen gave her employer an account of the letters of which she +had disposed; then she unfolded such matters as were still the subjects of +correspondence; and lastly she laid before him the letters with which she +had not been able to deal.</p> + +<p>The most important of all the letters were two long ones from Messrs. +Tongs and Ball and Mr. Gray, respectively, relating to the improvements +in progress at Daisy Lane in general, and in particular to the work of +altering and fitting up the old Hall for the great and gracious purpose +on which its owner had resolved. “The Golden Shoemaker” was gratified to +learn, from these letters, that the work of renovating his dilapidated +property had been so well begun, and that already, amongst his +long-suffering tenants, great satisfaction was beginning to prevail. +The remaining letters were passed under review, and then “Cobbler” Horn +lingered for a few moment’s chat.</p> + +<p>“I mean to take my sister and you to see the village and the Hall one day +soon, Miss Owen,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Oh, thank you, Mr. Horn!” enthusiastically exclaimed the young secretary.</p> + +<p>“You would like to go?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 181]</span>“I should love it dearly! I can’t tell you, Mr. Horn, how much I am +interested in that kind and generous scheme of yours for the old Hall.”</p> + +<p>In her intercourse with her employer, “Cobbler” Horn’s secretary was quite +free and unreserved, as indeed he wished her to be.</p> + +<p>“It’s to be a home for orphans, isn’t it?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Not for orphans only,” he replied, tenderly, as he thought of his own +lost little one. “It’s for children who have no home, whether orphans or +not,—little waifs, you know, and strays—children who have no one to care +for them.”</p> + +<p>“I’m doing it,” he added, simply, “for the sake of my little Marian.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, how good of you! And, do you know, Mr. Horn, its being for waifs and +strays makes me like it all the more; because I was a waif and stray once +myself.”</p> + +<p>She was leaning forward, with her elbows on the table, and her pretty +but decided chin resting on her doubled hands. As she spoke, her somewhat +startling announcement presented itself to her in a serio-comic light, +and a whimsical twinkle came into her eyes. The same impression was +shared by “Cobbler” Horn; and, regarding his young secretary, with her +neatly-clothed person, her well-arranged hair, and her capable-looking +face, he found it difficult to regard as anything but a joke the +announcement that she had once been, as she expressed it, “a waif and +stray.”</p> + +<p>“You!” he exclaimed, with an indulgent smile.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 182]</span>“Yes, Mr. Horn, I was indeed a little outcast girl. Did not Mr. Durnford +tell you that the dear friends who have brought me up are not my actual +parents?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied “ Cobbler” Horn, slowly, “he certainly did. But I did not +suspect——”</p> + +<p>“Of course not!” laughed the young girl. “You would never dream of +insulting me by supposing that I had once been a little tramp!”</p> + +<p>“No, of course not,” agreed “Cobbler” Horn, with a perplexed smile.</p> + +<p>“It’s true, nevertheless,” affirmed Miss Owen. “Mr. and Mrs. Burton have +been like parents to me almost ever since I can remember, and I always +call them ‘father’ and ‘mother’; but they are no more relations to me than +are you and Miss Horn. They found me in the road, a poor little ragged +mite; and they took me home, and I’ve been just like their own ever since. +I remember something of it, in a vague sort of way.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was regarding his secretary with a bewildered gaze.</p> + +<p>“You may well be astonished, Mr. Horn. But, do you know, sometimes I +almost feel glad that I don’t know my real father and mother. They must +have been dreadful people. But, whatever they were, they could never have +been better to me than Mr. and Mrs. Burton have been. They have treated me +exactly as if I had been their own child.”</p> + +<p>Many confused thoughts were working in the brain of “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 183]</span>“But,” said Miss Owen, resuming her work, “I must tell you about it +another time.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you shall,” said “Cobbler” Horn, rousing himself. “I shall want to +hear it all.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he left the room, and betook himself to his old workshop for an +hour or two on his beloved cobbler’s bench. He had placed the old house +under the care of a widow, whom he permitted to live there rent free, and +to have the use of the furniture which remained in the house, and to whom, +in addition, he paid a small weekly fee.</p> + +<p>As he walked along the street, he could not fail to think of what his +secretary had just said with reference to her early life. His thoughts +were full of pathetic interest. Then she too had been a little homeless +one! The fact endeared to him, more than ever, the bright young girl who +had come like a stream of sunshine into his life. For to “Cobbler” Horn +his young secretary was indeed becoming very dear. It could not be +otherwise. She was just filling his life with the gentle and considerate +helpfulness which he had often thought would have been afforded to him by +his little Marian. And now, it seemed to draw this young girl closer to +him still, when he learnt that she had once been homeless and friendless, +as he had too much reason to fear that his own little one had become. He +had a feeling also that the coincidence therein involved was strange.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 184]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>COMING INTO COLLISION WITH THE PROPRIETIES.</strong></p> + + +<p>It is not surprising that, in his new station, “Cobbler” Horn should have +committed an occasional breach of etiquette. It was unlikely that he would +ever be guilty of real impropriety; but it was inevitable that he should, +now and again, set at nought the so-called “proprieties” of fashionable +life. In the genuine sense of the word, “Cobbler” Horn was a Christian +gentleman; and he would have sustained the character in any position in +which he might have been placed. But he had a feeling akin to contempt for +the punctilious and conventional squeamishness of polite society.</p> + +<p>It was, no doubt, largely for this reason that “society” did not receive +“the Golden Shoemaker” within its sacred enclosure. Not that it rejected +him. He had too much money for that; half his wealth would have procured +him the entrée to the most select circles. But the attitude he assumed +towards the fashionable world rendered impossible his admission<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 185]</span> to its +charmed precincts. He made it evident that he would not, and could not, +conform to its customs or observe its rules. The world, indeed, courted +him, at first, and would gladly have taken him within its arms. Fashion +set to work to woo him, as it would have wooed an ogre possessed of his +glittering credentials. But he repelled its advances with an amused +indifference verging on contempt.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn foiled, by dint of sheer unresponsiveness, the first +attempt to introduce itself to him made by the world. On his return from +America, one of the first things which attracted his attention was a pile +of visiting cards on a silver salver which stood on the hall table. Some +of these bore the most distinguished names which Cottonborough or its +vicinity could boast. There were municipal personages of the utmost +dignity, and the representatives of county families of the first water. It +had taken the world some little time to awake to a sense of its “duty” +with regard to the “Cobbler” who had suddenly acceded to so high a +position in the aristocracy of wealth. But when, at length, it realized +that “the Golden Shoemaker” was indeed a fact, it set itself to bestow +upon him as full and free a recognition as though the blood in his veins +had been of the most immaculate blue.</p> + +<p>It was during his absence in America that the great rush of the +fashionable world to his door had actually set in. But Miss Jemima had +not been taken unawares. She had supplied herself betimes with a manual +of etiquette, which she had studied<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 186]</span> with the assiduity of a diligent +school-girl. She had also, though not without trepidation, ordered a +quantity of visiting cards, and had them inscribed respectively with her +own and her brother’s names. And thus, when Society made its first +advances, it did not find Miss Jemima unprepared.</p> + +<p>When “Cobbler” Horn espied the visiting cards on his hall table, he said +to his sister:</p> + +<p>“What, more of these, Jemima?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Thomas,” she responded, with evident pride; “and some of them belong +to the best people in the neighbourhood!”</p> + +<p>“And have all these people been here?” he asked, taking up a bunch of the +cards between his finger and thumb, and regarding them with a mingling of +curiosity and amusement.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Miss Jemima, in exultant tones, “they have all been here; +but a good many of them happened to come when I was out.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn sighed.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “I suppose this is another of ‘the penalties of wealth!’”</p> + +<p>“Say rather <em>privileges</em>, Thomas,” Miss Jemima ventured delicately to +suggest.</p> + +<p>“No, Jemima. It may appear to you in that light; but I am not able to +regard as a privilege the coming to us of all these grand people. How much +better it would be, if they would leave us to live our life in our own +way! Do you suppose they would ever have taken any notice of us at all, if +it had not been for this money?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 187]</span>Miss Jemima was unable to reply; for it was impossible to gainsay her +brother’s words. And yet it was sweet to her soul to have all the best +people in the neighbourhood calling and leaving their cards. For the +present, she let the matter rest. But, a day or two afterwards, the course +of events brought the question to the surface again. Miss Jemima was +brushing her brother’s coat, in the dining-room, after dinner, previous to +his setting out for his old workshop, when they saw a carriage drive up to +the gate.</p> + +<p>“Here are some more of your grand friends, Jemima,” said “Cobbler” Horn, +with a sigh. “How ever am I to get out?”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima was peeping out from behind the window-curtain, with the +eagerness of a girl.</p> + +<p>“Why,” she exclaimed, as the occupants of the carriage began to alight, +“it’s Mr. and Mrs. Brownlow, the retired b——.” “Brewer” she was going +to say but checked herself. “Surely you will not think of going out now, +Thomas?”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn knew Mr. and Mrs. Brownlow very well by sight. He had known +them before they rode in their carriage, and when they were much less +splendid people than they had latterly become. He had never greatly +desired their acquaintance when it was unattainable; and, now that it was +being thrust upon him, he desired it even less than before. There was no +reason why he should be intimate with this man. On what grounds had he +called? “Cobbler” Horn could not refrain from regarding the visit as being +an impertinence.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 188]</span>“My dear Jemima,” he said, “I must be going at once. These people cannot +have any business with me; and I have a good deal of work to do. You have +received the other people; and you can manage these. But, Jemima, do not +encourage them to come again!”</p> + +<p>So saying, he moved towards the door; but Miss Jemima placed an agitated +hand upon his arm.</p> + +<p>“Thomas,” she cried, “what shall I say to them?”</p> + +<p>“Tell them I am obliged to go out. Do you think it would be right to keep +my poor people waiting for their boots and shoes, while I spent the time +in idle ceremony?”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima ceased to remonstrate, and her brother again moved towards the +door. But, before he reached it, a servant appeared with the cards of Mr. +and Mrs. Brownlow, who were by this time installed in the drawing-room. +Miss Jemima took the cards, and “Cobbler” Horn made for the front-door.</p> + +<p>“Not that way, Thomas!” she cried after him. “They’ll see you!”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn looked around in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Why not, my dear? They will thus perceive that I have really gone out.”</p> + +<p>The next moment he was gone, and Miss Jemima was left to face the visitors +with the best excuses she could frame.</p> + +<p>The question of returning the numerous calls they had received occasioned +much perplexity to Miss Jemima’s mind. Nothing would induce her<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 189]</span> brother +to accompany her on any expedition of the kind. While, therefore, in some +cases, she was able to go by herself, in others she was obliged to refrain +from going altogether, and, as a matter of course, offence was given. The +natural consequence was that the number of callers rapidly diminished, and +“the Golden Shoemaker’s” reputation for eccentricity was thoroughly +established.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn very rarely consented to see any company who came merely to +pay a call. But one afternoon, when his sister was out, he went into the +drawing-room to excuse her absence, and, in fact, to dismiss the callers.</p> + +<p>“My sister is not at home, ma’am,” he said, addressing the buxom and +magnificent lady, who, with her two slender and humble-looking sons, had +awaited his coming.</p> + +<p>Having delivered his announcement, he stood at the open door, as though to +show his visitors out. The lady, however, quite unabashed, retained her +seat.</p> + +<p>“May I venture to say,” she asked, “that, inasmuch as the absence of Miss +Horn has procured us the pleasure of making the acquaintance of her +brother, it is not entirely a matter of regret?”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn bowed gravely.</p> + +<p>“It is very good of you to say that, ma’am; but I’m afraid I must ask you +to excuse me too. I’m very busy; and, besides, these ceremonies are not at +all in my way.”</p> + +<p>The lady, who bore a title, changed countenance,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 190]</span> and rose to her feet. +She was conscious that she had been dismissed.</p> + +<p>“Certainly, sir,” she said, in accents of freezing politeness; “no doubt +you have many concerns. We will retire at once.”</p> + +<p>The lady’s sons also rose, moving as she moved, like the satellites of a +planet.</p> + +<p>“There is no need for you to go, ma’am,” “Cobbler” Horn hastened to say, +quite unaware that he had committed a grave breach of etiquette. “If you +will only excuse me, and stay here by yourselves, for a little while, no +doubt my sister will soon be back; and I’m sure she will be glad to see +you.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” was the haughty response of the angered dame; “we have +already remained too long. Be good enough, sir, to have us shown out.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn rang the bell; and, as the lady, followed by her sons, +swept past him with a stately and disdainful bow, he felt that, in some +way, he had grievously transgressed.</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima, on her return, a few moments later, heard, with great +consternation, what had taken place.</p> + +<p>“I asked the good lady to wait till you came, Jemima; but she insisted on +going away at once.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Thomas, what have you done!” cried Miss Jemima, in piteous tones.</p> + +<p>“What could I do?” was the reply. “You see, I could not think of wasting +my time; and I thought they would not mind staying by themselves, for a +few minutes, till you came in.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 191]</span>“Oh, dear,” cried Miss Jemima, “I’m afraid she’ll never come again!”</p> + +<p>“Well, never mind, Jemima,” said her brother; “I don’t suppose it will +matter very much.”</p> + +<p>The foreboding of Miss Jemima was fulfilled; the outraged lady returned no +more. And there were many others, who, when they found that the master of +the house had little taste for fashionable company, discontinued their +calls. Some few of her new-made acquaintances only Miss Jemima was able, +by dint of her own careful and eager politeness, to retain.</p> + +<p>There were also other points at which “Cobbler” Horn came into collision +with the customs of society. He persisted in habitually going out with his +hands ungloved. He possessed a hardy frame, and, even in winter, he had +rarely worn either gloves or overcoat; and now, as ever, almost his only +preparation for going out was to take his hat down from its peg, and put +it on his head. Miss Jemima pathetically entreated that he would at least +wear gloves. But he was obdurate. His hands, he said, were always warm +enough when he was out of doors; and he would try to keep them clean.</p> + +<p>Another of the whims of “Cobbler” Horn was his fondness for doing what his +sister called “common” work. One morning, for example, on coming down to +breakfast, the good lady, looking through the window, saw her brother, in +his shirt sleeves, engaged in trimming the grass of the lawn. With a +little scream, she ran out at the front-door, and caught him by the arm.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 192]</span>“Thomas! Thomas!” she cried, “if you don’t care about yourself, have a +little thought for me!”</p> + +<p>“What is it, Jemima?” he asked straightening himself. “Is breakfast ready? +I’m very sorry to have kept you waiting. I’ll come at once.”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” exclaimed Miss Jemima; “it’s not that! But for a man in your +position to be working like a common gardener—it’s shameful! Pray come in +at once, before you are seen by any one going by! Without your coat too, +on a sharp winter’s morning like this!”</p> + +<p>“My dear Jemima,” said “Cobbler” Horn, as he turned with her towards the +house, “if I <em>were</em> a common gardener, there would be no disgrace, +any more than in my present position. There’s no shame in a bit of honest +work, anyhow, Jemima; and it’s a great treat to me.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima’s chief concern was to get her unmanageable brother into the +house as quickly as possible, and she paid little heed to what he said.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 193]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>BOUNDER GIVES WARNING.</strong></p> + + +<p>There was another personage to whom the unconventional ways of “the Golden +Shoemaker” gave great offence; and that was Mr. Bounder, the coachman. As +a coachman, Bounder was faultless. His native genius had been developed +and matured by a long course of first-class experience. In matters of +etiquette, within his province, Bounder was precise. Right behaviour +between master and coachman was, in his opinion, “the whole duty of man.” +He held in equal contempt a presuming coachman and a master who did not +keep his place.</p> + +<p>Bounder soon discovered that, in “Cobbler” Horn, he had a master of whom +it was impossible to approve. Bounder “see’d from the fust as Mr. Horn +warn’t no gentleman.” It was always the way with “them as was made rich +all of a suddint like.” And Bounder puffed out his red cheeks till they +looked like two toy balloons. It was “bad enough to be<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 194]</span> kept waiting +outside the station, while your master stood talking to a little feller as +looked as like a rag and bone man as anythink; but when you was required +to stop the kerridge and pick up every tramp as you overtook on the road, +it was coming it a little too strong.” This last was a slight exaggeration +on the part of Bounder. The exact truth was that, on one occasion, his +master had stopped the carriage for the purpose of giving a lift to a +respectable, though not well-to-do, pedestrian, and in another instance, +a working-class woman and her tired little one had been invited to take +their seats on Bounder’s sacred cushions, Bounder’s master himself +alighting to lift the bedusted child to her place.</p> + +<p>But this was not the worst. The woman who lived in the little cottage past +which Marian had trotted so eagerly, on the morning of her disappearance +so long ago, had a daughter who was a cripple from disease of the spine. +She was the only daughter, and, being well up in her teens, would have +been a great help to her mother if she had been well. “Cobbler” Horn was +deeply moved by the pale cheeks and frail bent form of the invalid girl. +He induced his sister to call at the cottage, and they took the poor +suffering creature under their care. It was not unnatural that the young +secretary should also be enlisted in this kindly service. First she was +sent to the cottage with delicacies to tempt the appetite of the sick +girl; and then she began to go there of her own accord. During one of her +visits, the mother happened to say:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 195]</span>“You see, miss, what she wants is fresh air. But how’s she to get it? She +can’t walk only a few yards at a time; and even a mild winter’s not the +time for sitting out.”</p> + +<p>The woman spoke without any special design; but her words suggested to +the mind of Miss Owen a happy thought. The young secretary was so firmly +established, by this time, in the regard of her employer that she was able +to approach him with the least degree of reserve. So she spoke out her +thought to him with the frankness of a favourite daughter. An actual +daughter would have thrown her arms around his neck, and emphasized her +suggestion with a kiss. Miss Owen did not do this; but the tone of +respectful yet affectionate confidence in which she spoke served her +purpose just as well.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Horn”—they were in the midst of their daily grapple with the +correspondence—“the doctor says poor Susie Martin ought to have a great +deal of fresh air. Don’t you think a carriage drive now and then would be +a good thing?”</p> + +<p>Her knowledge of “Cobbler” Horn assured her that her suggestion would be +adopted. Otherwise she would have hesitated to throw it out.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn laid down the pen with which he had been making some +jottings for the guidance of his secretary, and regarded her steadfastly +for a moment or two. Then his face lighted up with a sudden glow.</p> + +<p>“To be sure! Why didn’t I think of that? My dear young lady, you are my +good angel!”</p> + +<p>That evening Miss Owen was desired to take<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 196]</span> a message to the cottage; and +the next day Bounder was confounded by being ordered to convey Miss Owen +and the invalid girl for a country drive, in the pony carriage. Bounder +stared, became apoplectic in appearance, and stutteringly asked to have +the order repeated. His master complied with his request; and Bounder +turned away, with haughty mien, to do as he was bid. He was consumed with +fierce mortification. He would bear it this time, but not again. He was +like the proverbial camel, which succumbs beneath the last straw. Very +soon the point would be reached at which long-suffering endurance must +give way.</p> + +<p>It was a deep grievance with Bounder that he was seldom ordered to drive +to big houses. He was required to turn the heads of his horses into many +strange ways. He was almost daily ordered to drive down streets where he +was ashamed to be seen, and to stop at doors at which he felt it to be an +indignity to be compelled to pull up his prancing steeds. Bounder hailed +with relief the occasions on which he was required to take Miss Jemima +out. Then he was sure of not receiving an order to obey which would be +beneath the dignity of a coachman who, until now, had known no service but +of the highest class. Such occasions supplied salve to his wounded spirit. +But his wound was reopened every day by some fresh insult at the hands of +his master. He had submitted to the odious necessity of driving out in his +carriage the crippled girl, and that not only once or twice. But the tide +of rebellion was rising higher and higher in his breast, and gathering +strength from day to<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 197]</span> day; and, at length, Bounder resolved to give his +master “warning,” and remove himself from so uncongenial a sphere. He did +not quite like to make his master’s kindness to the poor invalid girl his +ostensible reason for desiring a change; and, while he was looking around +for a plausible pretext, the course of events supplied him with exactly +such an occasion as he sought.</p> + +<p>Bounder had not as yet become aware of the daily visits of his master to +his old workshop. He had been kept in ignorance of the matter merely +because there was no special reason why he should be informed. One +afternoon, on leaving home, “Cobbler” Horn had left word with Miss Jemima +for the coachman to come to the old house, with the dog-cart, at three +o’clock. Bounder received the order with a feeling of apathetic wonder as +to what new freak he was expected to countenance and aid. At the entrance +of the street in which the old house stood, he involuntarily pulled up his +horse. Then, with an air of ineffable disdain, he drove slowly on, and +proceeded to the number at which he had been directed to call.</p> + +<p>Summoning a passing boy, he ordered him to knock at the door. The boy +contemplated disobedience; but a glance at Bounder’s whip induced him to +change his mind, and he gave the door a sounding rap. The door speedily +opened, and Bounder’s master appeared. But such was his disguise that +Bounder was necessitated to rub his eyes. Divested of his coat, and +enfolded in a leathern apron, “the Golden Shoemaker” stood in the doorway, +with bare<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 198]</span> arms, holding out a pair of newly-mended hob-nailed boots.</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” he said; “I’m glad you’re punctual. Will you kindly take +these boots to No. 17, Drake Street, round the corner; and then come back +here;” and, stepping out upon the pavement, he placed the boots on the +vacant cushion of the dog-cart, close to Bounder’s magnificent person.</p> + +<p>Bounder touched his hat as usual; but there was an evil fire in his heart, +and, as he drove slowly away, a lava-tide of fierce thought coursed +through his mind. That he, Bounder, “what had drove real gentlemen and +ladies, such as a member of Parliament and a <em>barrow-knight</em>,” should have +been ordered to drive home a pair of labourer’s boots! This was “the last +straw,” indeed!</p> + +<p>Arrived at No. 17, Drake Street, Bounder altogether declined to touch the +offending boots. He simply indicated them with his whip to the woman who +had come to the door in some surprise, and ignoring her expression of +thanks, turned the head of his horse, and drove gloomily away.</p> + +<p>That night, “Cobbler” Horn’s outraged coachman sought speech with his +master.</p> + +<p>“I wish to give you warning, sir,” he said, touching his hat, and speaking +in tones of perfect respect.</p> + +<p>Bounder’s master started. He had intended to make the best of his +coachman.</p> + +<p>“Why so, Bounder?” he asked. “Don’t I give you money enough, or what?”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” replied Bounder, “the money’s all right; but,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 199]</span> to make a clean +breast of it, the service ain’t ezactly what I’ve been used to. I ain’t +been accustomed to drive about in back streets, and stop at cottages and +such; and to take up every tramp as you meets; and to carry labourer’s +boots on the seat of the dog-cart.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid, Mr. Bounder,” said “Cobbler” Horn, with a broad smile, “that +I’ve hurt your dignity.”</p> + +<p>“Well, as to that, sir,” said the coachman, uneasily, “all as I wishes to +say is that I’ve been used to a ’igh class service; and I took this place +under a mis-happrehension.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, Bounder,” rejoined “Cobbler” Horn, more gravely, “then we had +better part. For I can’t promise you any different class of service, +seeing it is my intention to use my carriages quite as much for the +benefit of other people as for my own; and it is not at all likely that I +shall drive about much amongst fashionable folks. When do you wish to go, +Mr. Bounder?”</p> + +<p>This was business-like indeed. Bounder was in no haste to reply.</p> + +<p>“Because,” resumed his master, “I will release you next week, if you +wish.”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir,” replied Bounder slowly, “I shouldn’t wish to go under the +month.”</p> + +<p>“Very well. But, you must know, Bounder, that I have no fault to find with +you. It’s you who have given me notice, you know.”</p> + +<p>Bounder drew himself up to his full height. “Fault to find” with him! The +mere suggestion was an insult. But Bounder put it into his pocket.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 200]</span>“If you are in want of a character, now,” resumed “Cobbler” Horn, “I +shall——”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” interposed Bounder with hauteur, “I am provided as to +that. There’s more than one gentleman who will speak for me,” and Bounder +faced about, and marched away with his nose turned towards the stars.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 201]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>VAGUE SURMISINGS.</strong></p> + + +<p>The feeling of familiarity with the previous abode of her employer, and +its surroundings, of which Miss Owen had been conscious at first, had +become modified as the weeks went by. The removal to the new house had, no +doubt, in part contributed to this result; and, very soon, if she did not +forget the impression of revived remembrance of which she had been aware +at first, she ceased to be conscious that any trace of it remained. She +did not, indeed, forget that it had been; she remembered vividly the fact +that, when she first entered the old house, she had almost felt as if she +had come home. That feeling had now almost passed away. But she was +beginning to ponder certain things which seemed to be connected with it in +some vague way.</p> + +<p>Though she had often been told of the circumstances under which she had +been rescued from a life of poverty and possible shame, her own<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 202]</span> +recollection of the matter was very dim. She seemed to remember a time of +great trouble, and then a sudden change, since which all had been happy +and bright; and certainly, if she had not been definitely informed of the +fact, she would never have suspected that the kind friends to whom she +owed so much were not her actual parents. That vague reminiscence of early +distress would have lingered with her as the memory of a troubled dream, +and nothing more.</p> + +<p>Hitherto she had not been anxious for further information concerning her +parentage and early life. There were times when she felt some small +measure of dissatisfaction at the thought that she did not know who she +really was. But this feeling was held in check by the consideration that, +if her parents had been good and kind, she would probably not have been in +a position to need the loving service which had been rendered to her by +Mr. and Mrs. Burton; and she felt that she would a thousand times rather +have them for her father and mother, than be compelled to give those dear +names to such persons as it was more than likely her actual parents had +been. For the most part, therefore, she had feared, rather than hoped, +that her real father and mother might appear.</p> + +<p>Now, however, vague surmisings were being awakened in the mind of the +young secretary. Her kind employer had mysteriously lost a little girl. +This suggested to her a new set of possibilities as to her own past. It +came to her mind that perhaps she also had been lost, and that the misery +she<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 203]</span> vaguely remembered, had been inflicted by other hands than those of +her parents. If, like little Marian, she had actually wandered away, it +was probably no fault of theirs, and perhaps they had been mourning for +her all these years. Then, almost for the first time, she was conscious of +an ardent desire to know who her parents had been. Over this question she +pondered often and long. She could do nothing more—except pray. And pray +she did. She asked that, if it were right and best, the cloud of obscurity +might be lifted from her earlier years. And yet, as day by day she +persisted in this prayer, she had a feeling that the prayer itself, and +the desire from which it proceeded, might, perhaps, constitute a species +of disloyalty to the only parents she seemed ever to have known. To this +feeling her great love and strong conscientiousness gave birth. Yet she +could neither repress her desire nor refrain from her prayer.</p> + +<p>But there was another thing which “Cobbler” Horn had said. When his +secretary asked him what little Marian would probably be like, if she were +still alive, he, in all simplicity, and without perceiving the possible +direction that might be given to her thoughts, had replied that his lost +child, if living, would be not unlike what his secretary actually was. He +probably intended no more than that there might be a general resemblance +between the two girls; and he might be mistaken even in that. Miss Owen +herself took such a view of the matter at the time, and passed it lightly +by. But, afterwards, in the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 204]</span> course of her ponderings, it came back again. +The unpremeditated words, in which her employer had admitted the +probability of a resemblance between herself and what his own lost child +might most likely have become, seemed to find their place amongst the +other strange things which were perplexing her mind.</p> + +<p>Very deeply Miss Owen pondered these many puzzling things, from day to +day. A momentous possibility seemed to be dawning on her view; but she was +like one who, being but half-awake, cannot decide whether the brightness +of coming day may not, after all, be merely a dim dream-light which will +presently fade away. It appeared to her sometimes as though she were on +the verge of the momentous discovery which she had often wondered whether +she would ever make. Could it be that the mystery of her parentage was +about to be solved, and that with a result which would be altogether to +her mind? But, as often as she reached this point, she pulled herself +sharply up. Her name was Mary Ann Owen: that settled the question at once. +But was it so? There came a time when she began to have doubts even as to +her name. Perhaps the wish was father to the thought. At any rate, she had +never liked the name by which she was known; and now she was conscious of +a very definite reason for wishing that it might, in some way, turn out +not to be her name after all. Was it certain that her name was Mary Ann +Owen? She had a strange, weird feeling at the thought of what the +question<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 205]</span> implied. And there was distinct ground for doubt. When she had +been found by her adopted parents, her baby tongue, in answer to their +questioning, had pronounced her name as best it could. But, as her speech +was less distinct than is usually that of a child of her apparent years, +they had never felt quite sure about her name. The name by which she +forthwith became known to them was the best interpretation they could put +upon her broken words, and it had been accepted by the child herself +without objection; but in the minds of Mr. and Mrs. Burton there had +always been a lingering doubt. Miss Owen had been aware of this, but had +given it little heed. Now, however, the fact that there was uncertainty as +to her name came vividly to her mind. And yet, if her name was not Mary +Ann Owen, it might be something else quite as far from her desires. But +stay, might it not be supposed that her real name, whatever it might be, +was similar in sound to the name her baby tongue had been thought to +pronounce? She had tried to tell her kind friends her name; and they had +understood her to say that it was Mary Ann Owen. If they were mistaken, +what other name was there of similar sound? Ah, there was one! Then she +thrilled with almost a delirium of delight, which quickly gave place to a +guilty feeling—as though she had put forth her hand towards that which +was too sacred for her touch.</p> + +<p>“What silly day-dreams have come into my head!” she cried.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 206]</span>“The Golden Shoemaker” too had his ponderings, in these days. Of late he +had been thinking more about his little Marian than for many years past; +and, if he had searched for the reason of this, he would have discovered +it in the fact that his young girl secretary daily reminded him, +in various ways, of his long lost child. Miss Owen was—or so he +fancied—very much like what his darling would have become. There was, +to be sure, not much in that, after all; and the same might have been the +case with many another young girl. But the points of resemblance between +the history of his young secretary and the early fate of his little Marian +constituted another circumstance of strange import. Like his own child, +Miss Owen had been an outcast. Kind friends had given her a home. Might it +not be that similar happiness had fallen to the lot of his little Marian? +If he could think so, he would almost be reconciled to the prospect of +never seeing her again. And every day he felt that his young secretary was +making for herself a larger place in his heart.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 207]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>A NOVEL DIFFICULTY FOR A MAN OF WEALTH.</strong></p> + + +<p>The trouble with most people, rich and otherwise, is to know how to keep +their money; how to get rid of it was the difficulty with which “the +Golden Shoemaker” was beset. “Cobbler” Horn’s unalterable purpose was to +retain no more than a comparatively small portion of his wealth for his +own use. Since he had entered upon his fortune, he had already given away +a great deal of money; but it seemed to him a very trifling amount in +proportion to the vast sum he possessed. He was, moreover, aware that he +was getting richer every day. Since the property had come into his hands, +the investments it comprised were yielding better than ever before; and he +could not endure that such vast sums of money should be accumulating upon +him, while there was so much misery and want in the world.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 208]</span> He believed +that his immense wealth had been given him, in trust, by God; and that it +was not absolutely his own. The purpose of God, in bestowing it upon him, +was that he should use it for the benefit of all who had any need which +might be supplied by its means; and, by so much, it belonged, not to +“Cobbler” Horn himself, but, under God, to those who possessed any such +claim to its use. He was convinced that no preacher had ever been more +definitely or solemnly called to the ministration of the “Word” than was +he, “the Golden Shoemaker,” to the ministry of wealth. And it was a +ministry after his own heart. Full of Christ-like love and pity for the +needy, the sad, and the sinful, he revelled in the gracious opportunities +which now crowded his life. He had few greater pleasures, in these days, +than that afforded him by the signing of cheques. To negotiate a +contribution from him for some worthy object was a means of grace;—so +hearty and joyous was his response to the appeal, and so thankful did he +seem for the opportunity it had brought.</p> + +<p>Never, perhaps, were the functions of a Christian man of wealth more +clearly comprehended, or the possibilities of blessedness involved in the +possession of riches more fully realized, than by “Cobbler” Horn. He often +told himself that, by making others happy with his money, he secured the +highest benefit it was able to impart. Thus bestowed, his wealth afforded +him infinitely greater satisfaction, than if he had devoted it entirely to +his own personal ends.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 209]</span>But “the Golden Shoemaker” was not satisfied. His money was not going +fast enough. The amounts he had already dispensed appeared but as a few +splashes of foam from the sea. He wanted channels for his benevolence. +His difficulty was rare. Most men of means find that they have not the +wherewithal to supply the demands of their own many-handed need. He was +able to satisfy almost unlimited necessities beyond his own, but was sadly +troubled to know how it might be done. Yet he was determined that he would +not rest, until he had found means of disposing, in his Lord’s service, of +every penny that remained to him, after his own modest wants had been +supplied.</p> + +<p>Actuated by this purpose, “Cobbler” Horn resolved to pay another visit +to his minister. Mr. Durnford had helped him before, and would help him +again. Of set purpose, he selected Monday morning for his visit. Unless +his business had been very urgent indeed, he would not have run the risk +of disturbing Mr. Durnford at his studies by going to see him on any other +morning than this. But he knew that, on Monday morning, the minister was +accustomed to throw himself somewhat on the loose, and was rather glad, +than otherwise, to welcome a congenial visitor at that time.</p> + +<p>Mr. Durnford, as usual, gave his friend a cordial greeting. There was not +a member of his church who occupied a higher place in his regard than did +“Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Glad to see you, Mr. Horn!” he said, entering<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 210]</span> the dining-room, whither +his visitor had been shown by the maid; and he heartily shook “the Golden +Shoemaker” by the hand. “This is a regular ‘Blue Monday’ with me, as, +indeed, most of my Mondays are; and a little brotherly chat will give me +a lift. How go the millions?”</p> + +<p>By this time they were seated opposite to each other, in two comfortable +chairs, before a cheerful fire. The minister’s half-joking question +touched so closely the trouble just then upon “Cobbler” Horn’s mind, that +he took it quite seriously, and returned a very grave reply.</p> + +<p>“The ‘millions,’ sir, are not going fast enough; in fact, they go very +slowly indeed. And, to make a clean breast of it, that is what has brought +me here this morning.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Durnford, with deep interest.</p> + +<p>“But, sir,” added “Cobbler” Horn, half-rising, and putting out his hand, +“don’t let me hinder you. I can come another time, if you are busy just +now.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t speak of such a thing, my dear friend!” cried the minister, +putting out his hand in turn. “Keep your seat. I’m never busy on a Monday +morning—if I can help it. I am always ready, between the hours of nine +and one on Monday, for any innocent diversion that may come in my way. I +keep what is called ‘Saint Monday’—at least in the morning. If I am +disturbed on any other morning, I—well, I don’t like it. But any +reasonable person who finds me at home on a Monday morning—against which, +I must admit, the chances are strong,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 211]</span> for I frequently go off on some +harmless jaunt—is quite welcome to me for that time.”</p> + +<p>“I had an idea of that, sir,” responded “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Ah, you are a most considerate man! But now, about the millions?”</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker” smiled.</p> + +<p>“Not ‘millions,’ sir—hardly one million yet—indeed a great deal less +now, actually in my own hands; though I am seriously afraid of what it may +become. All my investments are turning out so well, that the money is +coming in much faster than I can get rid of it! It’s positively dreadful! +I shall have to increase my givings very largely in some way.”</p> + +<p>The minister held up his hands in mock astonishment; and there was a +twinkle of honest pleasure in his keen, grey eyes.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Horn, I believe you are the first man, since the foundation of the +world, who has been troubled because his money didn’t go fast enough!”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, that is the case.”</p> + +<p>His unwieldy wealth weighed too heavily upon his heart and conscience to +permit of his adopting the half-humorous view of the situation which Mr. +Durnford seemed to take.</p> + +<p>“But surely, Mr. Horn,” urged the minister, becoming serious, “there are +plenty of ways for your money. To get money is often difficult; it should +be easy enough to get rid of it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, there are plenty of ways. My poor, devoted secretary knows that +as well as I do. But<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 212]</span> the puzzle is, to find the right ways. If I merely +wanted to get rid of my money, the letters of a single week would almost +enable me to do that.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Durnford, “of course. I know exactly how it is. You +could make your money up in a bag, and toss it into the sea at one throw, +if that were all.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied “Cobbler” Horn, with a quiet smile; and he sighed faintly, +as though he wished it were permissible to rid himself thus easily of his +golden encumbrance.</p> + +<p>“But that is not all, Mr. Durnford,” he then said.</p> + +<p>“No, Mr. Horn, you feel that it would not do to cast your bread on the +waters in that literal sense. You are constrained to cast it, not into +the sea, but, like precious seed, into the soil of human hearts and +lives—soil that has been prepared by the plough of poverty and the +harrow of suffering. Isn’t that it, my friend?”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn leaned forward in his chair, with glistening eyes.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; go on; you are a splendid thought reader.”</p> + +<p>“You feel that merely to dispose of your money anyhow—without +discrimination—would be worse than hoarding it up?”</p> + +<p>“That I do, sir!”</p> + +<p>“It is not your money, but the Lord’s; and you wish to dispose of every +penny in a way He would approve?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” was “Cobbler” Horn’s emphatic <span class='pagenum'>[Pg 213]</span>confirmation; “and I’m so +anxious about it that often I can’t sleep at nights. I expect the Lord +gave me all this money because He knew I should want to use it for Him; +and I’m determined not to disappoint Him. I feel the more strongly on the +subject, because there’s so much of the Lord’s money in the world that he +never gets the benefit of at all.”</p> + +<p>The minister listened gravely.</p> + +<p>“So you want my advice?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; and your help. My difficulty is that it is the unworthy who are +most eager to ask for help. Those who are really deserving are often the +last to cry out; and many of them would rather die than beg. Now, sir, I +want you to help me to find out cases of real need, to tell me of any good +cause that comes to your knowledge; and suggest as many ways as you can of +making a good use of my money. Will you do this for me, sir? Although you +have helped me so much already, I don’t think you will refuse my request.”</p> + +<p>The minister listened to this appeal from “the Golden Shoemaker” with a +feeling of holy joy.</p> + +<p>“No, my dear friend,” he said, “I will not refuse your request. How can I? +Believing, with you, that your wealth is a Divine trust, I regard your +appeal as a call from God Himself. Besides, you could not have demanded +from me a more congenial service. You shall have all the help I can give; +and between us,” he added, with a reviving flicker of his previous +facetiousness, “we shall make the millions fly.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 214]</span>“Thank you, heartily, sir. But I must warn you that you have undertaken no +light task. We shall have to dispose of many thou——”</p> + +<p>“We will make them vanish,” broke in the minister, “like half-pence in the +hands of a conjuror.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” said “Cobbler” Horn, with a smile, “that you ministers are well +able to dispose of the money.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose we are. But, dear friend, let it be understood, at the +outset, that I can be no party to your defrauding yourself.”</p> + +<p>“It is all the Lord’s money,” said “the Golden Shoemaker.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but, if you employ it for Him, He means you to have your +commission.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, as to that, a very little will serve. My wants are few.”</p> + +<p>“My dear friend,” remonstrated the minister, “are you not in danger of +falling into a mistake? God has given you the power to acquire a great +deal of the good of this world; and I don’t think it would be right for +you not to make a pretty complete use of your opportunities. Though you +should be ever so generous to yourself, and live a very full and abundant +life, you will still be able to give immense sums of money away; and such +a life would fit you all the better to serve God in your new sphere.”</p> + +<p>“You think that, do you, sir?” asked “Cobbler” Horn, evidently impressed.</p> + +<p>“I certainly do.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I will consider it; for I dare say you are right. But to return to +what we were talking about<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 215]</span> just now, perhaps, sir, you could give me a +hint or two, this morning, with regard to my money?”</p> + +<p>Thus invited, Mr. Durnford ventured to mention several cases of individual +necessity with which he was acquainted, and to indicate various schemes of +wide-spread benevolence in which a man of wealth might embark.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn listened attentively; and, having entered in his note-book +the names Mr. Durnford had given him, promised also to consider the more +general suggestions he had made.</p> + +<p>“I am very much obliged to you, sir,” he said; “and shall often come to +you for advice of this kind.”</p> + +<p>“As often as you like, Mr. Horn,” laughed the minister; “it doesn’t cost +much to give advice. It is those who follow it that have to pay.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” rejoined “Cobbler” Horn; “and that will I do most gladly.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he rose from his seat, and held out his hand.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Good morning, my dear sir!” said the minister, grasping the proffered +hand. “By the way, how is Miss Owen getting on?”</p> + +<p>“My dear sir, I owe you eternal gratitude for having made me acquainted +with that young lady!”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad of that, but not a bit surprised.”</p> + +<p>“She is a greater help to me than I can tell. And what a sad history she +seems to have had—in early<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 216]</span> life, that is! Her childhood appears to have +been a sad time.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, she has told you, then?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it came out quite by accident. She didn’t obtrude it in any way.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure she wouldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“And the fact that she was once a little outcast girl increases my +interest in her very much.”</p> + +<p>“That,” said the minister, “is a matter of course.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 217]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>“COBBLER” HORN’S CRITICS.</strong></p> + + +<p>The months passed. Christmas came, and was left behind, and now spring had +fairly set in.</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker” had become a person of great consideration to the +dignitaries of his church. It is true there were those amongst its wealthy +members by whom he was unsparingly criticised behind his back. But this +did not deter them from paying him all manner of court to his face. He +was startled at the importance which he had suddenly acquired. His +acquaintance was sought on every side; and he found himself the subject +of a variety of polite attentions to which he had been an entire stranger +until now. Men of wealth and position who, though they were his +fellow-members in the church, had never yet shaken him by the hand, +suddenly discovered that he was their dear friend.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 218]</span>There was one rich man whose pew in the church was next to that of +“Cobbler” Horn. Though this man had sat side by side with his poor +brother for many years, in the house of God, he had seemed unaware of his +existence. But no sooner did “Cobbler” Horn become “the Golden Shoemaker” +than the attitude of his wealthy neighbour underwent a change. The +first sign of recognition he bestowed upon his recently-enriched +fellow-worshipper was a polite bow as they were leaving the church; next +he ventured to show “Cobbler” Horn the hymn, when the latter happened to +come late one day; and, at length, on a certain Sunday morning, as they +were going out, he stepped into the aisle, and proffered his hand to “the +Golden Shoemaker,” for a friendly shake. “Cobbler” Horn started, and drew +back. It was not in his nature to be malicious; and to decline the offered +civility was the furthest thing from his thoughts. He was simply lost in +amazement. The gentleman who was offering to shake hands with him was one +of the most important men in Cottonborough. But his great astonishment +arose from the fact that this mighty personage, after sitting within reach +of him in the house of God for so many years, without bestowing upon him +the slightest sign of recognition, should suddenly desire to shake him by +the hand! The man noticed his hesitation, and was turning away with +offended dignity. But “Cobbler” Horn quickly recovered himself, and, +taking the hand which had been offered to him, gave it a heartier shake +than it had, perhaps, ever received before.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 219]</span>“It was not that, Mr. Varley,” he said, “I’m glad enough to shake hands +with you, as I should have been long ago. But it did seem such a queer +thing that we should have been sitting side by side here all these years, +and you should never have thought of shaking hands with me before. I +suppose the reason why you do it now is that the Lord has seen fit to make +me a rich man. Now I really don’t think I’m any more fit to be shaken +hands with on that account. Personally, I’m very much the same as I’ve +been any time these twenty years past; and it does seem to me a bit +strange that you and others should appear to think otherwise.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn spoke in a pleasant tone, and there was a twinkle of +amusement in his eye. But Mr. Varley was not amused. Regarding “Cobbler” +Horn with an expression of countenance which was very much like a scowl, +he turned upon his heel and withdrew; and, during the week, he arranged +for a sitting in another part of the church.</p> + +<p>Mr. Varley was not the only rich and influential member of the church who +had recently discovered in “Cobbler” Horn a suitable object of friendly +regard. But the most cordial and obsequious of his wealthy fellow-members +were ready enough to criticise him behind his back.</p> + +<p>With the advice and help of the minister, he had begun to “make +the millions fly,” in good earnest; and his phenomenal +liberality—prodigality, it was called by some—could not, in the nature +of things, escape notice. It soon became, in fact, the talk of the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 220]</span> town +and of the country round. But it was by the members of his church that +“Cobbler” Horn’s lavish benefactions were most eagerly discussed. Various +opinions were expressed, by his fellow-Christians, of “the Golden +Shoemaker,” and of the guineas with which he was so free. Some few saw the +real man in their suddenly-enriched friend, and rejoiced. Others shook +their heads, and said the “Shoemaker” would not be “Golden” long at that +rate; and some scornfully curled their lips, and declared the man to be a +fool. But the most bitter of “Cobbler” Horn’s critics were certain of his +wealthy brethren who seemed to regard his abundant liberality as a +personal affront.</p> + +<p>There were many wealthy members in Mr. Durnford’s church. The minister +sometimes thought, in his inmost soul, that his church would have been but +little poorer, in any sense of the word, for the loss of some of the rich +men whose names were on its roll. With all their wealth, many of them were +not “rich towards God.” But Mr. Durnford was circumspect. It was his +endeavour, without failing in his duty, either to his Divine Master, or to +these gilded sheep of his, to make what use of them he might in connection +with his sacred work.</p> + +<p>There was little, it is true, to be got out of these wealthy men but their +money, and they could not be persuaded to part with much of that; but the +minister did not give them much rest.</p> + +<p>One pleasant spring evening, Mr. Durnford set out on one of what he called +his “financial tours”<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 221]</span> amongst this section of his members. The first +house to which he went—and, as it proved, the last—was that of a very +rich brewer, who was one of the main pillars of the Church. There were +other members of Mr. Durnford’s flock who were of the same trade. This was +not gratifying to Mr. Durnford; but what could he do? The brewers were +blameless in their personal behaviour, regular in their attendance in the +sanctuary, and exact in their fulfilment of the conditions of church +membership; and he could not unchurch them merely because they were +brewers. If he began there, it would be difficult to tell where he ought +to stop. Nor did he scorn their gifts of money to the cause of God. He was +pleased that they were willing to devote some portion of their gains to so +good a purpose; his regret was that the portion was so small.</p> + +<p>Mr. Durnford did not hesitate to tell his rich members what he conceived +to be the just claims of the cause of God upon their wealth; and, on the +evening of which we speak, he called first, for this purpose, on the +aforesaid brewer, Mr. Caske. This gentleman lived in a large, square, +old-fashioned, comfortable house, surrounded with its own grounds, which +were extensive and well laid out. The entire premises were encompassed +with a high brick wall, which might well have been supposed to hide a +workhouse or a prison, instead of the paradise it actually concealed. +Perhaps Mr. Caske had selected this secluded abode from an instinctive +disinclination to obtrude the abundance and comfort which he had<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 222]</span> derived +from the manufacture and sale of beer; perhaps he had bought this +particular house simply because it was in itself such a dwelling as he +desired. At any rate, there he was, with his abundance and luxury, within +his encircling wall; and one was tempted to wonder whether there was as +much mystery in connection with the article of his manufacture, as seemed +to be associated with his place of abode.</p> + +<p>The minister let himself in at a small door in the boundary wall, and made +his way, through the grounds, to the front-door of the house.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Caske has company to-night, sir,” said the maid who opened the door.</p> + +<p>“Any one I know, Mary?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; Mr. Botterill and Mr. Kershaw.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, I want to see them too. Where are they?”</p> + +<p>“In the smoke-room, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well, show me in. It will be all right.”</p> + +<p>As Mr. Durnford was a frequent and privileged visitor, the girl promptly +complied with his request.</p> + +<p>The smoke-room was a good-sized, comfortable apartment, furnished with +every convenience that smokers are supposed to require. It looked out, by +two long windows, on a wide sweep of lawn which stretched away from the +end of the house. In this room, in chairs of various luxurious styles, sat +Mr. Caske and his two friends. Each of the three men was smoking a +churchwarden pipe; and at the elbow of each stood a little three-legged, +japanned smoker’s<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 223]</span> table, on which was a stand of matches, an ash-tray, +and a glass of whisky.</p> + +<p>The three smokers slowly turned their heads, as the minister entered the +room, and, on recognising him, they all rose to their feet.</p> + +<p>“Good evening, sir,” said Mr. Caske, advancing, with his pipe in his left +hand, and his right hand stretched out; “you have surprised us at our +devotions again.”</p> + +<p>“Which you are performing,” rejoined the minister, “with an earnestness +worthy of a nobler object of worship.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Caske laughed huskily; and the minister turned to greet Messrs. +Botterill and Kershaw, who were waiting, pipes in hand, to resume their +seats.</p> + +<p>Mr. Botterill was a wine and spirit merchant, and Mr. Kershaw was a draper +in a large way.</p> + +<p>When they had all taken their seats, a few moments of silence ensued. This +was occasioned by the necessity which arose for the three smokers +vigorously to puff their pipes, which had burnt low; and perhaps there +was some little reluctance, on the part of Mr. Caske and his friends, +to resume the conversation which had been in progress previous to the +entrance of Mr. Durnford. When the pipes had been blown up, and were once +more in full blast, there was no longer any excuse for silence. Mr. Caske, +being the host, was then the first to speak. He had known his minister +too well to invite him to partake of the refreshment with which he was +regaling his friends.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 224]</span>He was a small, rotund man, with shining, rosy cheeks, and a husky voice.</p> + +<p>“All well with you, Mr. Durnford?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, thank you, Mr. Caske; but I am afraid I intrude?”</p> + +<p>He was conscious of some constraint on the part of the company.</p> + +<p>“I fear,” he resumed, “that I have interrupted some important business?” +and he looked around with an air of enquiry.</p> + +<p>Mr. Caske airily waved his long pipe.</p> + +<p>“Oh no, sir,” he said, lightly, “nothing of consequence”—here he glanced +at his friends—“we were, ah—talking about our friend, ah—‘the Golden +Shoemaker.’”</p> + +<p>Mr. Caske was secretly anxious to elicit the minister’s opinion of +“Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” exclaimed Mr. Durnford, with an intonation in which sarcasm might +not have been difficult to detect, “and what about ‘the Golden +Shoemaker’?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Caske looked at Mr. Botterill and Mr. Kershaw; and Mr. Kershaw and +Mr. Botterill looked first at each other, and then at Mr. Caske.</p> + +<p>“Well,” replied Mr. Caske, at length, “he’s being more talked about than +ever.”</p> + +<p>“Well, now,” asked the minister, “as to what in particular?”</p> + +<p>“Chiefly as to the way he’s squandering his money.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I wasn’t aware Mr. Horn had become<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 225]</span> a spendthrift! You must have been +misinformed, Mr. Caske,” and Mr. Durnford looked the brewer intently in +the face.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said Mr. Caske, somewhat uneasily, “you don’t take me, sir. It’s not +that he spends his money. It’s the rate at which he gives it away. He’s +simply flinging it from him right and left!”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, Mr. Caske swelled with righteous indignation. Money, in his +eyes, was a sacred thing—to be guarded with care, and parted with +reluctantly. No working man could have been more careful with regard to +the disposal of each individual shilling of his weekly wages, than was +Mr. Caske in the handling of his considerable wealth.</p> + +<p>“He’s simply tossing his money from him, sir,” he reiterated, “as if it +were just a heap of leaves.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Botterill, “and it doesn’t seem right.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Botterill was a tall man, with glossy black hair and whiskers, and an +inflamed face. He seemed never to be quite at ease in his mind, which, +perhaps, was not matter for surprise.</p> + +<p>Mr. Kershaw next felt that it was his turn to speak.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” he said, “this kind of thing makes a false impression, you know!”</p> + +<p>Though a man of moderate bodily dimensions, Mr. Kershaw had a largeness of +manner which seemed to magnify him far beyond his real proportions. He +spread himself abroad, and made the most of himself. He had actually a +large head, which was<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 226]</span> bald on the top, with dark bushy hair round about. +His face, which was deeply pitted with small-pox, was adorned with +mutton-chop whiskers, from between which a very prominent nose and chin +thrust themselves forth.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” broke in Mr. Caske, “people will be apt to think that everybody who +has a little bit of money ought to do as he does. But, if that were the +case, where should I be, for instance?” and Mr. Caske swelled himself out +more than ever.</p> + +<p>Mr. Durnford had hitherto listened in silence. Though inclined to speak in +very strong terms, he had restrained himself with a powerful effort. He +knew that if he allowed these men to proceed, they would soon fill their +cup.</p> + +<p>“Well, gentlemen,” he now remarked quietly, “there is force in what you +say.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Caske and his two friends regarded their minister with a somewhat +doubtful look. Mr. Caske seemed to think that Mr. Durnford’s remark made +it necessary for him to justify the attitude he had assumed with regard +to “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps, sir,” he said, “you don’t know in what a reckless fashion our +friend is disposing of his money?”</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Caske, let us hear,” said the minister, settling himself to +listen.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, you know about his having given up a great part of his fortune +to some girl in America, because she was the sweetheart of a cousin of his +who died.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 227]</span>“Yes,” said Mr. Durnford, quietly, “I’ve heard of that.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there was a mad trick, to begin with,” resumed Mr. Caske, in a +severe tone. “And then there’s that big house in the village which, it’s +said, all belongs to him. He’s fitting it up to be a sort of home for +street arabs and gipsy children; and it’s costing him thousands of pounds +that he’ll never see again!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know about that too.”</p> + +<p>“Then, you will, of course, be aware, sir, that he gives more to our +church funds than any half-dozen of us put together.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” broke in Mr. Kershaw, with his obtrusive nose. “He thinks to shame +the rest of us, no doubt. And they say now that he’s going to employ two +town missionaries and a Bible-woman out of his own pocket. Is it true, +think you, sir?”</p> + +<p>“It is not unlikely,” was the quiet reply.</p> + +<p>There was a note of warning in both Mr. Durnford’s words and tone; but the +admonitory sign passed unobserved.</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” resumed Mr. Caske, “think of the money he gave away during +the winter. He seemed to want to do everything himself. There was hardly +anything left for any one else to do.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Durnford smiled inwardly at the idea of Mr. Caske making a grievance +of the fact that there had been left to him no occasion for benevolence.</p> + +<p>“It was nothing but blankets, and coals, and money,” continued Mr. Caske. +“And then the families he has<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 228]</span> picked out of the slums and sent across the +sea! And it’s said he’ll pay anybody’s debts, and gives to any beggar, and +will lend anybody as much money as they like to ask.”</p> + +<p>At this point Mr. Botterill once more put in his word.</p> + +<p>“I heard, only the other day, that Mr. Horn had announced his intention of +presenting the town with a Free Library and a Public Park.”</p> + +<p>“It’s like his impudence!” exclaimed Mr. Kershaw.</p> + +<p>“After that I can believe anything,” cried Mr. Caske. “The man ought to be +stopped. It’s very much to be regretted that he ever came into the money. +And what a fool he is from his own standpoint! When he has got rid of all +his money, it will be doubly hard for him to go back to poverty again.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Caske was speaking somewhat at random.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think, sir,” he concluded, with a facetious air, “that +Providence sometimes makes a mistake in these matters?”</p> + +<p>The question was addressed to the minister.</p> + +<p>“No, never!” exclaimed Mr. Durnford, with an emphasis which caused Mr. +Caske to start so violently, that the stem of his pipe, which he had just +replaced in his mouth, clattered against his teeth. “No, never! And least +of all in the case of friend Horn.”</p> + +<p>The three critics of “the Golden Shoemaker” stared at the minister in +amazement. They had been led to think Mr. Durnford was substantially in +agreement with their views.</p> + +<p>“No, gentlemen,” he resumed, “my opinion is quite<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 229]</span> the reverse of yours. I +believe this almost unlimited wealth has been given to our friend, because +he is eminently fitted to be the steward of his Lord’s goods.”</p> + +<p>This declaration was followed by an awkward pause, which Mr. Caske was the +first to break.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you think, sir,” he said, in an injured tone, “that this upstart +fellow is an example to us?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Caske,” responded the minister, “you have interpreted my words to a +nicety.”</p> + +<p>The three critics shuffled uneasily in their chairs.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” continued Mr. Durnford, “an example and a reproach! Mr. Horn has +the true idea of the responsibilities of a Christian man of wealth; you +have missed it. He is resolved to use his money for God, to whom it +belongs; you spend yours on yourselves—except in as far as you hoard it +up you know not for whom or what. He is never satisfied that he is giving +enough away; you grumble and groan over every paltry sovereign with which +you are induced to part. He will be able to give a good account of his +stewardship when the Lord comes; there will be an awkward reckoning for +you in that day.”</p> + +<p>The three friends had ceased to smoke, and were listening to Mr. +Durnford’s deliverance open-mouthed. They respected their minister, and +valued his esteem. They were rather conscience-stricken, than offended +now.</p> + +<p>“But, surely, sir,” said Mr. Kershaw, presently, finding breath first of +the three, “you wouldn’t have us fling away our money, as he does?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 230]</span>“I shouldn’t be in haste to forbid you, Mr. Kershaw, if you seemed +inclined to take that course,” said the minister, with a smile. “But, if +you come within measurable distance of the example of our friend, you will +do very well.”</p> + +<p>“But,” pleaded Mr. Botterill, “ought we not to consider our wives and +families?”</p> + +<p>“You do, Mr. Botterill, you do,” was the somewhat sharp reply. “But there +still remains ample scope for the claims of God.”</p> + +<p>Upon this, there ensued a pause, which was at length broken by Mr. Caske, +who, whatever might be his shortcomings, was not an ill-natured man. +“Well, sir,” he remarked, good-humouredly, “you’ve hit us hard.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad you are sensible of the fact,” was the pleasant reply.</p> + +<p>“No doubt you are!” rejoined Mr. Caske, in a somewhat jaunty tone. “And I +suppose you intend now to give us an opportunity of following your +advice?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” said Mr. Durnford, with a smile, “I really came to ask you for +the payment of certain subscriptions now due. It is time I was making up +some of the quarterly payments. But, perhaps, after what has been said, +you would like to take a day or two——?”</p> + +<p>“No, for my part,” interposed Mr. Caske, “I don’t want any time. I’ll +double my subscriptions at once.”</p> + +<p>“Same here,” said Mr. Kershaw, concisely.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 231]</span>“Thank you, gentlemen!” said Mr. Durnford, briskly, entering the amounts +in his note book. “Now, Mr. Botterill.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” was the reluctant response, “I suppose I shall have to follow +suit.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Durnford smiled.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, gentlemen, all,” he said. “Keep that up, and it will afford +you more pleasure than you think.”</p> + +<p>When, shortly afterwards, the minister took his departure, the three +friends resumed their smoking; but they did not return to their criticism +of “the Golden Shoemaker.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 232]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>“IN LABOURS MORE ABUNDANT.”</strong></p> + + +<p>Unlike many wealthy professors of religion, “the Golden Shoemaker” did not +suppose that, in giving his money to the various funds of the church, he +fulfilled, as far as he was concerned, all the claims of the Cause of +Christ. He did not imagine that he could purchase, by means of his +monetary gifts, exemption from the obligation to engage in active +Christian work. He did not desire to be thus exempt. His greatest delight +was to be directly and actively employed in serving his Divine Lord; and +so little did he think of availing himself of the occasion of his sudden +accession to wealth to withdraw from actual participation in the service +of Christ, that he hailed with intense joy the richer opportunities of +service with which he was thus supplied.</p> + +<p>For some years “Cobbler” Horn had been a teacher in a small Mission Sunday +School, which was carried on in a low part of the town by several<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 233]</span> members +of Mr. Durnford’s church. But, about a year previous to the change in his +circumstances, he had been persuaded by the minister to transfer his +services to the larger school. He always made the conversion of his +scholars his chief aim; and very soon after he entered on his new sphere, +one of the boys in his class, a bright little fellow about nine years old, +named Willie Raynor, had been very remarkably converted to God. The boy +was promising to become a very thorough-going Christian, and no one +rejoiced more than he in the good fortune of “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>There was considerable speculation, amongst the friends and +fellow-teachers of “the Golden Shoemaker,” as to whether his altered +circumstances would lead to the relinquishment of his work in the school. +Little Willie Raynor heard some whisper of this talk, and was much +distressed. His relations with his beloved teacher were very close; and, +without a moment’s hesitation, he went straight to “Cobbler” Horn, and +asked him what he was going to do.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Horn, you won’t leave the school now you are a rich man, will you? +Because I don’t think we can do without you!”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was taken by surprise. The idea of leaving the school had +never occurred to his mind. For one moment, there was a troubled look in +his face.</p> + +<p>“Who has put such nonsense into your head, laddie?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 234]</span>“Oh, I’ve heard them talking about it. But I said I was sure they were +wrong.”</p> + +<p>“Why, of course they were, dear lad. Why should I leave the school? +Haven’t I more reason than ever to work for the Lord?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m so glad!” And Willie went home with a bounding heart.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile curiosity continued to be felt and expressed on every hand, as +to the course “the Golden Shoemaker” would actually pursue; and no little +surprise was created as, Sunday after Sunday, he was still seen sitting in +the midst of his class, as quietly and modestly as though he were still +the poor cobbler whom everybody had known so well.</p> + +<p>Nor was he content simply to continue the work he had been accustomed to +do for Christ during his previous life. The larger leisure which his +wealth had brought, enabled him to multiply his religious and benevolent +activities to an almost unlimited extent. He went about doing good from +morning to night. He rejoiced to exercise for God the all but boundless +influence which his money enabled him to exert. His original plan—which +he persistently followed—of mending, free of charge, the boots and shoes +of the poorer portion of his former customers was but one amongst many +means by which he strove to benefit his necessitous fellowmen. He never +gave money for the relief of distress, without ascertaining whether there +was anything that he could do personally to help. He made it a point also +to offer spiritual consolation to those upon whom<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 235]</span> he bestowed temporal +benefactions. Hardly a day but found him in the abode of poverty, or in +the sick-room; and not one of his numberless opportunities of speaking +the words which “help and heal” did he let slip.</p> + +<p>One evening, as he was passing through a poor part of the town, he came +into collision with a drunken man, who was in the act of entering a low +public-house. The wretched creature looked up into “Cobbler” Horn’s face, +and “Cobbler” Horn recognised him as a formerly respectable neighbour of +his own.</p> + +<p>“Richard,” he cried, catching the man by the arm, “don’t go in there!”</p> + +<p>“Shall if I like, Thomas,” said the man, thickly, recognising “Cobbler” +Horn in turn. “D’yer think ’cause ye’re rich, yer has right t’ say where +I shall go in, and where I shan’t go in?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, Richard,” said “Cobbler” Horn, with his hand still on the man’s +arm. “But you’ve had enough drink, and had better go quietly home.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he gradually drew his captive further away from the +public-house. The man struggled furiously, talking all the time in rapid +and excited tones.</p> + +<p>“Let me a-be!” he exclaimed with a thickness of tone which was the +combined result of indignation and strong drink. “You ha’ no right to +handle me like this! Ain’t this a free country? Where’s the perlice?”</p> + +<p>“Come along, Richard; you’ll thank me to-morrow,”<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 236]</span> persisted “Cobbler” +Horn quietly, moving his captive along another step or two. But, by this +time, a crowd was beginning to gather; and it seemed likely that, although +Richard himself might not be able effectually to resist his captor, +“Cobbler” Horn’s purpose would be frustrated in another way. In fact the +crowd—a sadly dilapidated crew—had drawn so closely around the centre of +interest, as to render almost impossible the further progress of the +struggling pair.</p> + +<p>At this point, some one recognised “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Yah!” he cried, “it ain’t a fight, after all! It’s ‘the Golden Shoemaker’ +a-collarin’ a cove wot’s drunk!”</p> + +<p>At the announcement of “the Golden Shoemaker,” the people crowded up more +closely than ever. While all had heard of that glittering phenomenon, +perhaps few had actually seen him, and the present opportunity was not to +be lost.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn grasped the situation, and resolved, under the inspiration +of the moment, to turn it to good account. He was not afraid that these +people would interfere with his present purpose. He could see that they +were regarding him with too much interest and respect for that. Moreover, +since Richard belonged to another part of the town, his fortunes would not +awaken any special sympathy in the breasts of the crowd. On the other +hand, there was a possibility that the delay caused by the gathering of +the crowd might enable “Cobbler” Horn to make a deeper impression on his +poor degraded friend, than if he had simply dragged him home from the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 237]</span> +public-house. Exerting, therefore, all his strength, he thrust the hapless +Richard forth at arm’s length, and, in emphatic tones, bespoke for him the +attention of the crowd.</p> + +<p>“Look at him!” he exclaimed. “Once he was a respectable man, tidy and +bright; and he wasn’t ashamed to look anybody in the face. And now see +what he is!”</p> + +<p>The crowd looked, and saw a slovenly and dissipated man, who hung his +head, with a dull feeling of shame. The people gazed upon the wretched man +in silence. They were awed by the solemn and impressive manner in which +they had been addressed.</p> + +<p>“This man,” resumed “Cobbler” Horn, “once had a thriving business and a +comfortable home. Now his business has gone to the dogs, and his home has +become a den. His wife and children are ragged and hungry; and I question +if he has a penny piece left that he can justly call his own. The most +complete ruin stares him in the face, and he probably won’t last another +year.”</p> + +<p>The crowd still gazed, and listened in silence.</p> + +<p>“And, do you ask,” continued “Cobbler” Horn, “what has done all this? No, +you don’t; you know too well. It’s drink—the stuff that many of you love +so much. For there are many of you,”—and he swept the crowd with a +scrutinizing glance—“who are far on the same downward way as this poor +fool. He was my neighbour and friend; and he had as nice a little wife as +ever brightened a home. But it would make the heart of a stone bleed to +see her<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 238]</span> as I saw her but a few days ago. But, there; go home, Richard! +And may God help you to become a man once more!”</p> + +<p>So saying, he released his captive; and the wretched creature, partially +sobered with astonishment and shame, crept through the crowd, which parted +for him to pass, and staggered off on his way towards home.</p> + +<p>Then, like some ancient prophet, upon whom the Spirit of the Lord had +come, “the Golden Shoemaker” turned and preached, from the living text of +his besotted friend, a telling impromptu Temperance sermon to the motley +crowd. The whole incident was quite unpremeditated. He had never dreamt +that he would do such a thing as he was doing now. But that by no means +lessened the effect of his burning words, which went home to the hearts, +and even to the consciences of not a few of those by whom they were heard.</p> + +<p>When he had finished, he passed on, and left his hearers to their +thoughts. But, for himself, there had been shown to him yet another way in +which he might work for God; and, thereafter, “the Golden Shoemaker” was +often seen at the corners of back streets, and in the recesses of the +slums, preaching, to all who would hear, that glorious Gospel of which the +message of mercy to the victims of strong drink is, after all, only a +part.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 239]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>TOMMY DUDGEON ON THE WATCH.</strong></p> + + +<p>It will be remembered that, after bursting into the back-room with the +declaration, “She’s come back!” Tommy Dudgeon had suddenly pulled himself +up and substituted the commonplace statement that he had “seen the +sec’tary.” In fact, though, on marking the manner in which Miss Owen had +stepped out of the house and walked along the street, he had, for an +instant, imagined that little Marian had actually returned, the calmer +moments which followed had shown him what seemed the folly of such a +supposition. What real resemblance could there be between a child of five +and a young woman of eighteen? He had, indeed, seemed to see, this +afternoon, the very same determined look, and the pretty purposeful step, +with which the little maid whom he had loved had passed out of his sight +so long ago. But he now assured himself that “it was only the sec’tary +after all.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 240]</span>The child, for whom he had not ceased to mourn, would certainly come back, +but not like that. It was inevitable that unimaginative Tommy Dudgeon +should at first dismiss the possibility that little wild-flower Marian +should have returned in the person of the lady-secretary. But, none the +less, the sight of the secretary had brought back to him the vision of +little Marian as he had seen her last; and thenceforth he was supplied +with matter for much perplexing thought.</p> + +<p>Fortunately the occupants of the room into which he had burst with his +hasty exclamation, who consisted of his brother and his brother’s wife +alone, had but indistinctly caught his words. Consequently no one was any +the wiser, and he was able to assure himself that his first impression +with regard to the “sec’tary” was still the secret of his own breast.</p> + +<p>It was a secret, however, which gave him no little trouble. The vanishing +of the child had occasioned him bitter grief. He had not only mourned in +respectful sympathy with the stricken father, but he had also sorrowed on +his own account. He had very tenderly loved little Marian Horn. She had +come to him like a fairy, scattering clouds of care, and diffusing joy; +and, since her departure, it had seemed as though the sunshine had ceased +to visit the narrow street upon which he looked out through the window, +and from the doorway, of his little shop.</p> + +<p>And Tommy’s regret for the loss of the child was rendered keener by a +haunting consciousness that<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 241]</span> a measure of responsibility for it belonged +to himself. Might he not have prevented her departure? He could not, +indeed, have been supposed to know that she was running away. But he did +not allow himself to plead any excuse on that account. He ought to have +known, was his continual reflection, that she would come to harm—going +away by herself like that; and, at least, he might have questioned her as +to where she was going. Through all the years, he had not ceased to +afflict himself with such thoughts as these. Once he actually mentioned +his self-accusing thoughts to “Cobbler” Horn. It was on one of the rare +occasions when the afflicted father had spontaneously spoken of his lost +child to his humble friend. He gazed blankly at the little huckster, for +a moment, as though he had not understood. Then, perceiving his drift, he +gently answered, “My dear friend, you could not help it. Please do not +speak of it again.”</p> + +<p>Tommy had always yearned for the recovery of the child; and, the wish +being father to the thought, he fully shared with “Cobbler” Horn himself +the expectation that she would eventually return. This expectation kept +him on the alert; and there is little cause to wonder that even so slight +a sign as the poise of the secretary’s head, or the manner in which she +walked, should have induced him to think, for some passing moments, that +his long-cherished desire had been fulfilled at last.</p> + +<p>And now, although he had dismissed that belief, it had left him more +vigilant than ever. It may be<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 242]</span> questioned, indeed, whether he had actually +dismissed it, or whether, having been dismissed, it had really gone away. +There are visitors who will take no hint to depart. It would seem that +here was such a visitor. The discarded impression that little Marian had +come back in the person of “Cobbler” Horn’s secretary refused to be +banished from Tommy Dudgeon’s mind. Henceforth he would have no peace +until he had set the fateful question at rest once for all.</p> + +<p>To this end he watched for the young secretary day by day. A hundred times +a day he went to the shop-door, to gaze along the street; and at frequent +intervals he craned his neck to get a better view through the window. He +would leave the most profitable customer, at the sound of a footstep +without, or at the shutting of a neighbouring door. He gave himself to +deep ponderings, in the midst of which he became oblivious of all around. +His anxiety told upon his appetite, and affected his health. His friends +became alarmed; but, when they questioned him, he only shook his head. +His very character seemed to be changed. Hitherto he had been the most +transparent of men; now he moved about with the air of a conspirator, and +bore himself like one on whose heart some mysterious secret weighed.</p> + +<p>It was a long time before Tommy’s watching and pondering produced any +definite result. Miss Owen seldom visited the street in which “the little +Twin Brethren” had their shop. By the desire of her employer she never +came to him in his old workshop,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 243]</span> except upon business which could not +be delayed. Two or three times only, hitherto, had Tommy Dudgeon been +privileged to feast his eyes on the dainty little figure, which, on his +first sight of it, had awakened such tender memories in his mind. On each +occasion those memories had returned as vividly as before; but the only +result had been that his perplexity was sensibly increased.</p> + +<p>All through the winter, the perturbation of the little huckster’s mind +remained unallayed; but there came a day in early spring which set his +questionings at rest. In that joyous season there was born to Mr. and Mrs. +John Dudgeon an eighth child. The fact that, this time, the arrival did +not consist of twins was no less gratifying to the happy father, than to +his much-enduring spouse. But the child was a fine one, and his birth +almost cost his mother’s life. As may be supposed, “the Golden Shoemaker” +did not forget his humble friends in their trouble. He engaged for them +the ablest doctor, and the most efficient nurse, that money could command. +Every day he sent messages of enquiry, and the messengers were never +empty-handed. Sometimes it was a servant who came; and sometimes it was +the coachman—not Bounder, but his successor, who was quite a different +man—with the carriage.</p> + +<p>On the day of which we speak, the carriage had stopped at the door, and +Tommy Dudgeon, on the watch as usual, observed that a young lady was +sitting amongst its cushions. It was the four-wheeler, and its fair +occupant, basket in hand, alighted nimbly<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 244]</span> as soon as it stopped. Tommy +vigorously rubbed his eyes. Yes, it was the “sec’tary!” Now, perhaps, his +opportunity had come. As yet, he had never spoken to the “sec’tary,” or +heard her speak. He made his most polite bow, as she stepped into his +shop. But how his heart thumped! He was shy with ladies at the best; but +now, hope and fear, and a vague feeling that, with the entrance of this +sprightly little lady, the past had all come back, increased his habitual +nervousness a hundredfold. Surely it was not the first time that little +tossing dusky head, with its black sparkling eyes, had presented itself in +his doorway!</p> + +<p>She paused a moment on the step, gazed around with a bewildered air, and +shot a startled glance into the honest, eager face of the little man, who +quivered from head to foot as he met her gaze. “That strange feeling +again!” she thought, “I can never have been <em>here</em> before, at any rate!”</p> + +<p>Tommy Dudgeon’s own confusion prevented his perceiving the momentary +discomposure of his visitor. The next minute, however, she was speaking to +the little man in her cordial, unaffected way.</p> + +<p>“You are Mr. Dudgeon, I expect,” she said, holding out her neatly-gloved +hand. “How are you, this afternoon? But,” she continued after a pause, +“which Mr. Dudgeon is it—the one with a wife, or the one without? My +name,” she added in her lively way, “is Owen—Mr. Horn’s secretary, you +know. You’ve heard of me, no doubt, Mr. Dudgeon?”</p> + +<p>Tommy Dudgeon had not yet found his tongue.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 245]</span>“But,” she broke out again, “I’m not giving you a chance to tell me who +you are. Is it Mr. Dudgeon, or Mr. John? You see I know all about you.”</p> + +<p>Tommy Dudgeon was in no condition to answer Miss Owen’s question, even +yet, simple though it was. If the sight of her had brought back the +past, what thronging memories crowded upon him at the sound of her +voice—wooing, wilful, joyously insistent! But that she was so womanly and +ladylike, and that he knew she was “only the sec’tary,” he would have been +ready to advance upon her with outstretched hands, and ask her if she had +quite forgotten Tommy Dudgeon—her old friend, Tommy? As it was, he stood +staring like one bewitched. Miss Owen, wondering at his silence, and his +fixed gaze, repeated her question in another form.</p> + +<p>“I don’t wish to be rude; but are you the husband, or is it your brother?”</p> + +<p>Tommy pulled himself together with a gasp.</p> + +<p>“My name is Thomas, miss. It is my brother who is married, and whose wife +is ill.”</p> + +<p>“Then, Mr. Thomas, I’m glad to make your acquaintance. How is your +brother’s wife to-day? I’ve brought a few little things from Miss Horn, +with her respects.”</p> + +<p>Miss Owen herself would have said “love,” rather than respects. But it was +a great concession on the part of Miss Jemima to send anything at all to +“those Dudgeons,” with or without a message of any kind, and was quite a +sign of grace.</p> + +<p>“It’s very kind of Miss Horn,” said Tommy, who<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 246]</span> was still perturbed; “and +of you as well, miss. Perhaps you will see my sister-in-law? She’s much +better, and sitting up—and able to converse.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he led the way into the kitchen, in the doorway of which the +young girl once more paused, and looked around in the same bewildered way +as before. But she instantly recovered herself; and, at the invitation of +a woman who was in attendance, proceeded to mount the narrow stairs.</p> + +<p>Miss Owen was performing a thoroughly congenial errand. It was her +delight to be, in any way, the instrument of the wide-spread benevolence +and varied Christian ministrations of her beloved employer. Nor was it +an insignificant service which she therein performed. Her tender +companionship had been of scarcely less benefit to the crippled girl than +the almost daily rides which the generosity of “Cobbler” Horn enabled the +poor invalid to enjoy; and her presence and sensible Christian talk were +quite as helpful to Mrs. John Dudgeon, as were the delicacies from Miss +Jemima’s kitchen.</p> + +<p>John Dudgeon, who was acting as temporary nurse, rose to his feet as the +secretary entered, and stole modestly downstairs. Miss Owen followed him +with her eyes in renewed perplexity. What could it all mean? These dear, +funny little men! Had she known them in a former state of existence, or +what? She came downstairs when she was ready to leave, and in the kitchen +she paused once more. On one side of the fire-place was an old arm-chair +with a leather cushion. Seized with a sudden fancy,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 247]</span> Miss Owen addressed +the woman, who was waiting to see her out.</p> + +<p>“May I sit in that chair a moment?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Certainly, miss,” was the civil reply; and, in another moment, the young +secretary had crossed the room, and seated herself in the chair.</p> + +<p>“How strange!” she murmured. “How familiar everything is!”</p> + +<p>At that moment, Tommy Dudgeon came in from the shop; and, on seeing Miss +Owen in the old arm-chair, he stopped short, and uttered a cry.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, miss; I thought——”</p> + +<p>It was in that very chair, standing in exactly the same spot as now, that +little Marian had been accustomed to sit, when she used to come in and +delight the two little bachelors with her quaint sayings, and queen it +over them in her pretty wilful way. For her sake, the old chair had been +carefully preserved.</p> + +<p>“You thought I was taking a liberty, no doubt, sir,” said Miss Owen, +jumping to her feet, with a merry laugh; “and quite right too.”</p> + +<p>Tommy was horrified at the bare suggestion of such a thing. He begged her +to sit down again, and she laughingly complied, insisting that he should +sit in the opposite chair. Presently John came in, and stood looking +calmly on. He was visited by no disturbing memories. Having chatted gaily, +for a few minutes, with the two little men, Miss Owen took her leave.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 248]</span>“It’s all so strange!” she thought, as the carriage bore her swiftly away.</p> + +<p>Then she knitted her brows, and clenched her hands in her lap.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” she half-audibly exclaimed, “what if I <em>have</em> been here before? What +if——” and she shivered with the excitement of the thought.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As for Tommy Dudgeon, all his doubts were put to flight at last.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 249]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>A “FATHER” AND “MOTHER” FOR THE “HOME.”</strong></p> + + +<p>About six weeks after this, the old Hall at Daisy Lane was ready for +opening as a “Home” for waifs and strays. “Cobbler” Horn had visited Daisy +Lane, from time to time, and he had also taken his sister and his young +secretary to see the village and the old Hall. He had been much pleased +with the progress of the improvements, and had marked with satisfaction +the transformation which, in pursuance of his orders, was being effected +in the Hall. It was clear that Mr. Gray was not only a most capable agent, +but also a man after his employer’s own heart; and it was evident that +Messrs. Tongs and Ball had assisted the agent in every possible way.</p> + +<p>The old Hall seemed likely to become an ideal Children’s Home. The +arrangements were most complete. A staff of capable nurses, and a bevy<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 250]</span> of +maid-servants, had been engaged; to whom were added a porter and two boys, +together with a head gardener and three assistants, to make, and keep, +beautiful the spacious grounds.</p> + +<p>A number of children had already been selected as inmates of the “Home.” +Setting aside the majority of the appeals, which had been many, from +relatives who had children left on their hands by deceased parents, +“Cobbler” Horn had adhered to his original purpose of receiving chiefly +stray children—little ones with no friends, and without homes. With the +aid of his lawyers, and of Mr. Durnford, he had much communication with +workhouse and parish authorities, and even with the police; and, as the +opening day of the “Home” drew near, he had secured, as the nucleus of his +little family, some dozen tiny outcasts, consisting of six or seven boys, +and about as many girls.</p> + +<p>It now remained that a “father” and “mother” should be found. On this +subject “the Golden Shoemaker” had talked much with his minister. He +shrank from the thought of advertising his need. He was afraid of bringing +upon himself an avalanche of mercenary applications. His idea was to fix +upon some excellent Christian man and woman who might be induced to accept +the post as a sacred and delightful duty. They must be persons who loved +children, and who were not in search of a living; and it would be none the +worse if it were necessary for them to make what would be considered a +sacrifice, in order to accept the post.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 251]</span>“Cobbler” Horn looked around. He had no acquaintances in whom it seemed +likely that his ideal would be realized. He mentioned his views to his +lawyers, and they smiled in their indulgent way. Messrs. Tongs and Ball +had already learnt to respect their eccentric client. But it was difficult +for their legal minds to regard the question of the appointment of a +master and matron to the “Home” exactly in the light in which it presented +itself to “Cobbler” Horn. He spoke of his cherished desire to Mr. +Durnford.</p> + +<p>“If I get the right man and woman, you know, sir, I shall be willing to +pay them almost any amount of money. But I don’t want them to know this +beforehand. I must have a <em>father</em> and <em>mother</em> for my little family. It +would be just as well,” he added in faltering tones, “if they had lost a +little one of their own. And I should like them to be some good Christian +man and his wife, who would undertake the work without asking about salary +at all, and would leave it to me to make that all right. Do you think they +would trust me so far, Mr. Durnford?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Durnford smiled in his shrewd way.</p> + +<p>“If they knew you, Mr. Horn, they would rather trust you in the matter +than suggest an amount themselves.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt,” responded “the Golden Shoemaker,” with a smile. “But now, Mr. +Durnford,” he persisted for the twentieth time, “do you know of such a +couple as I want?”</p> + +<p>They were in the minister’s study. Mr. Durnford<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 252]</span> sat musing, with his arms +resting upon his knees, and his hands together at the finger-tips. +Suddenly he looked up.</p> + +<p>“You want a couple who have lost a child, Mr. Horn? I can tell you of some +good people who have found one.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn gave a slight start. “Found a child! What child?” Such were +the thoughts which darted, like lightning, through his brain. Then he +smiled sadly to himself. Of course what he had imagined, for an instant, +could not be.</p> + +<p>“Well” he said calmly, “who are they? Let me hear!”</p> + +<p>For one moment only, Mr. Durnford hesitated to reply.</p> + +<p>“You will, perhaps, be startled, Mr. Horn, but must not misunderstand me, +if I say that they are the excellent friends who have been as father and +mother to your secretary, Miss Owen.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was indeed startled. His thoughts had not turned in the +direction indicated by the minister’s suggestion—that was all. But he was +not displeased.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he exclaimed. “Well, if they are anything like my little secretary, +they will do.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. and Mrs. Burton do not know that I have any thought of suggesting +them to you, Mr. Horn. Nor have I the least idea whether or not they would +accept the post. Mr. Burton holds a good position on the railway, in +Birmingham, which I know he has no present intention of relinquishing. But +there is<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 253]</span> not another couple of my acquaintance who would be likely to +meet your wishes as well as these good friends of mine. You know, of +course, that Miss Owen was found and rescued by them, when she was quite +a little thing?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” was the thoughtful reply; “and you really think they are the kind +of persons I want?”</p> + +<p>“I do, indeed.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well! But might I ask them, do you think?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” said Mr. Durnford, “it would be as well to mention it to Miss +Owen first.”</p> + +<p>“Might I do that, think you?”</p> + +<p>“By all means!”</p> + +<p>“Then I will.”</p> + +<p>He spoke to his secretary that very day. Miss Owen was delighted with the +proposal, and approved of it with all her heart. She hoped Mr. and Mrs. +Burton would consent, and felt almost sure that they would. After that the +minister agreed to convey the request of “the Golden Shoemaker” to his +good friends. For this purpose, he made a journey to Birmingham, and, on +the evening of his return, called on “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Well?” enquired the latter eagerly, almost before the minister had taken +his seat.</p> + +<p>“Our friends are favourably disposed,” replied Mr. Durnford; “but they +would like to have a personal interview first.”</p> + +<p>“By all means. When can they see me? And where?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 254]</span>“Well, it would be a great convenience to Mr. Burton if you would go +there. He cannot very well get away. But he could arrange to meet you at +his own house.”</p> + +<p>Acting upon this suggestion, “Cobbler” Horn paid a visit to Birmingham, +the outcome of which was the engagement of Mr. and Mrs. Burton as “father” +and “mother” of the “home.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 255]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>THE OPENING OF THE “HOME.”</strong></p> + + +<p>At length the day arrived for the opening of the “Home.” It was early in +June, and the weather was superb. All the inhabitants of Daisy Lane, +whether tenants of “Cobbler” Horn or not, were invited to the opening +ceremony, and to the festivities which were to occupy the remainder of the +day. There was to be first a brief religious service in front of the Hall, +after which Miss Jemima was to unlock the great front door with a golden +key. Then would follow a royal feast in a marquee on the lawn; and, during +the afternoon and evening, the house and grounds would be open to all.</p> + +<p>The religious service was to be conducted by Mr. Durnford. The parish +clergyman had been invited to take part, but had declined. Many of his +brother-clergymen would have hailed with joy such an opportunity of +fulfilling the spirit of their religion; but the Vicar of Daisy Lane +regarded the matter in a different light.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 256]</span>In due course “Cobbler” Horn, Miss Jemima, the young secretary, Tommy +Dudgeon—to whom had been given a very pressing invitation to join the +party,—and Mr. Durnford, alighted from the train at the station which +served for Daisy Lane, and were met by Mr. Gray.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Gray,” said “the Golden Shoemaker,” who was in a buoyant, and +almost boisterous mood, “How are things looking?”</p> + +<p>“Everything promises well, sir,” replied the agent, who was beaming with +pleasure. “The arrangements are all complete; and everybody will be +there—that is, with the exception of the vicar. Save his refusal to be +present, there has not, thus far, been a single hitch.”</p> + +<p>“I wish,” said “Cobbler” Horn, “that we could have got the poor man to +come—for his own sake, I mean.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; he will do himself no good. It’s well they’re not all like +that.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gray had brought his own dog-cart for the gentlemen; and he had +provided for the ladies a comfortable basket-carriage, of which his son, +a lad of fifteen, had charge. The dog-cart was a very different equipage +from the miserable turn-out with which the agent had met his employer +on the occasion of his first visit. Everything was of the best—the +highly-finished trap, the shining harness, the dashing horse; and +“Cobbler” Horn was thankful to mark the honest pride with which the agent +handled the reins.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 257]</span>A few minutes brought them to Daisy Lane. Here indeed was a change! An +unstinted expenditure of money, the toil of innumerable workmen, and the +tireless energy and ever-ready tact of Mr. Gray, had converted the place +into a model village. Instead of dropsical and rotting hovels, neat and +smiling cottages were seen on every side. The vicarage, and the one +farm-house not included in the property of “Cobbler” Horn, which had, +aforetime, by their respectability and good repair, aggravated the +untidiness and dilapidation of the rest of the village, were now rendered +almost shabby by the fresh beauty of the renovated property of “the Golden +Shoemaker.”</p> + +<p>On every hand there were signs of rejoicing. It was evidently a gala day +at Daisy Lane. Over almost every garden gate there was an arch of flowers. +Streamers and garlands were displayed at every convenient point. Such a +quantity of bunting had never before fluttered in the breezes of Daisy +Lane.</p> + +<p>As they approached the farm-house which “Cobbler” Horn had inspected on +the occasion of his first visit, their progress was stayed by the farmer +himself, who was waiting for them at his gate, radiant and jovial, a +farmer, as it seemed, without a grievance! He advanced into the road with +uplifted hand, and Mr. Gray and his son reined in their horses. The farmer +approached the side of the dog-cart.</p> + +<p>“Let me have a shake of your fist, sir,” he said, seizing the hand of “the +Golden Shoemaker.” “You’re a model landlord. No offence; but it’s hard to +believe<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 258]</span> that you’re anyways related to that ’ere old skin-flint as was +owner here afore you.”</p> + +<p>The farmer wore on his breast a huge red rosette, almost as big as a +pickling cabbage, as though the occasion had been that of an election day, +or a royal wedding, or some other celebration equally august.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you’re satisfied with what Mr. Gray has done, Mr. Carter,” said +“Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Satisfied! That ain’t the word! And, as for Gray—well, he’s a decent +body enough. But it’s little as he could ha’ done, if you hadn’t spoke the +word.”</p> + +<p>Then they drove on, and the farmer followed in their wake, occupying, with +the roll of his legs, and the flourish of his big stick, as much of the +road as the carriages themselves.</p> + +<p>As they proceeded, they passed several groups of villagers, in gala dress, +who were making their way towards the gates of the Hall grounds.</p> + +<p>“These are the laggards,” explained the agent, “the bulk of the people are +already on the ground.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was recognised by the people, most of whom knew him well by +sight; and, while the men touched their hats, and the boys made their +bows, the women curtseyed, and each girl gave a funny little bob. Of +all the novel sensations which his wealth had brought to “the Golden +Shoemaker,” this was the most distinctly and entirely new. It had not +seemed to him more strange, though it had been less agreeable, to be the +object of Bounder’s<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 259]</span> obsequious attentions, than it did now to receive the +worship of these simple villagers.</p> + +<p>In due course they reached the Hall gates, and entered the grounds. A +large marquee, with its fluttering flags, had been erected on one side of +the lawn, which was almost like a small field. The people were dispersed +about the grass in gaily-coloured groups, though few of them had wandered +very far from the gates. When the carriages were seen approaching, the +various parties gathered more closely together; and the people arranged +themselves in lines on either side of the drive. The horses were +immediately brought to a walking pace; and then, a jolly young farmer +leading off, the villagers rent the air with their shouts of welcome. It +was the spontaneous tribute of these simple people to the man, whose +coming had restored long unaccustomed comfort to their lives, and awakened +new hope in their despondent breasts.</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker” raised his hat and waved his hand; and, inasmuch +as the acclamations of the people were evidently intended for the ladies +also, the young secretary nodded around with beaming smiles, and even Miss +Jemima perceptibly bent her rigid neck.</p> + +<p>At length the joyous procession arrived in front of the Hall steps. Here +Mr. and Mrs. Burton were waiting to receive them. In response to their +smiling welcome, “Cobbler” Horn shook these good people heartily by the +hand, and, having introduced them to Miss Jemima, turned aside for<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 260]</span> a +moment, that they might greet their adopted daughter.</p> + +<p>In a few moments, he turned to them again, and enquired if everything was +to their mind.</p> + +<p>“Everything, sir,” said Mr. Burton. “The arrangements are perfect.”</p> + +<p>“And our little family are all here,” added Mrs. Burton, pointing, with +motherly pride, to a row of clean and radiant boys and girls, who were +ranged at the top of the steps.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn’s face was illumined with a ray of pleasure, as he looked +up, at Mrs. Burton’s words; and yet there was a pensive shade upon his +brow. Miss Jemima scrutinised the little regiment, and actually uttered a +grunt of satisfaction. Miss Owen glanced from the happy child-faces to +that of “Cobbler” Horn with eyes of reverent love. The children were not +uniformly dressed; and they might very well have passed for the actual +offspring of the kindly man and woman whom they were to know as “father” +and “mother” from henceforth.</p> + +<p>“Is everything ready, Mr. Gray?” asked “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Then let us begin.”</p> + +<p>At a signal from Mr. Gray, the people drew more closely up to the foot of +the steps; and it was noticeable that Tommy Dudgeon had withdrawn to a +modest position amongst the crowd. A hymn was then announced by Mr. +Durnford, and sung from printed papers which had been distributed amongst<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 261]</span> +the people. Then, while every head was bowed, the minister offered a +brief, but fervent and appropriate prayer. Next came an address from +“Cobbler” Horn, in which, after explaining the purpose to which the +Hall was to be devoted, he took the opportunity of assuring those of his +tenants who were present that he would, as their landlord, do his utmost +to promote their welfare. His hearty words were received with great +applause, which was redoubled when he led Miss Jemima to the front. The +minister then stepped forward, and presented Miss Jemima with a golden +key, with which she deftly unlocked the great door, and, having pushed +it open, turned to the people, and bowing gravely in response to their +cheers, made, for the first and last time in her life, a public speech. +She had much pleasure, she said, in declaring the old Hall open for the +reception of friendless children, many of whom, she trusted, would find a +happy home within its walls, and be there trained for a useful life. Here +Miss Jemima stopped abruptly, and looked straight before her, with a very +stern face, as though angry with herself for what she had done. And then, +under cover of the renewed cheers of the people, she withdrew into the +background.</p> + +<p>The simple ceremony being over, the people were invited to enter the +building and pass through the rooms. This invitation was freely accepted; +and soon the various apartments of the renovated Hall were filled with +people, who did not hesitate to express their admiration of what they +saw.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 262]</span>When all the visitors had passed through the rooms, and admired to their +hearts’ content, the ringing of a large hand-bell on the lawn announced +that dinner was ready. At the four long tables which ran the whole length +of the marquee there was room for all, and very soon every seat was +occupied. The grace was announced by Mr. Durnford, and sung by the people, +with a heartiness which might have been expected of hungry villagers, who +had been summoned to an unaccustomed and sumptuous feast. Then the carvers +got to work, and, as the waiters carried round the laden plates, +comparative quiet reigned; but, when the plates began to reach the guests, +the clatter of crockery, the rattle of knives and forks, and the babel of +voices, made such a festive hubbub as was grateful to the ear.</p> + +<p>After dinner, there was speech-making and merriment; and then the people +left the tent, and dispersed about the grounds. While the former part of +this process was in progress, Miss Owen heard a fragment of conversation +which caused her to tingle to her finger-tips. She had just moved towards +one of the tables for the purpose of helping an old woman to rise from her +seat, and her presence was not perceived by the speakers, whose faces were +turned the other way. They were two village gossips, a middle-aged woman +and a younger one.</p> + +<p>“Is she his daughter?” were the words that fell upon the young secretary’s +ears, spoken by the elder woman in a stage whisper.</p> + +<p>“No,” replied the other, in a similar tone. “He<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 263]</span> never had but one +child—her as was lost. This one’s the secretary, or some such.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I do say as she’d pass for his own daughter anywhere.”</p> + +<p>Miss Owen was not nervous; but her heart beat tumultuously at the thoughts +which this whispered colloquy suggested to her mind. She placed her hand +upon the table to steady herself, as the two women, all unconscious of the +effect of their gossiping words, moved slowly away.</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker” and his friends arrived at Cottonborough late that +night. A carriage was waiting for them at the station; and, having said +“good night” to Mr. Durnford and Tommy Dudgeon, they were soon driven +home. They were a quiet—almost silent—party. The events of the day had +supplied them with much food for thought. The image of his little lost +Marian presented itself vividly to the mind of “Cobbler” Horn to-night. +Miss Jemima’s thoughts dwelt on what was her one tender memory—that of +the tiny, dark-eyed damsel who had so mysteriously vanished from the +sphere of her authority so long ago.</p> + +<p>And Miss Owen? Well, when she had at last reached her room, her first +act was to lock the door. Then she knelt before her small hair-covered +travelling trunk, and, having unlocked it, she slowly raised the lid and +placed it back against the wall. For a moment she hesitated, and then, +plunging her arm down at one corner of the trunk, amongst its various +contents, she brought up, from the hidden depths, a small tissue<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> paper +parcel. This she opened carefully, and disclosed a tiny shoe, homely but +neat, a little child’s chemise, and an old, faded, pink print sun-bonnet, +minus a string. In the upper leather of the shoe were several cuts, the +work of some wanton hand. Sitting back upon her heels, she let the open +parcel fall into her lap.</p> + +<p>“What would I not give,” she sighed, “to find the fellow of this little +shoe! But no doubt it has long ago rotted at the bottom of some muddy +ditch!”</p> + +<p>Then, for the hundredth time, she examined the little chemise, at one +corner of which were worked, in red cotton, the letters “M.H.”</p> + +<p>“They have told me again and again that I had this chemise on when I was +found. Of course that doesn’t prove that it was my own, and I have never +supposed that those two letters stand for my name. But now—well, may it +not be so, after all? It was really no more than a guess, on the part of +Mr. and Mrs. Burton, that my name was Mary Ann Owen; and, from what I can +see, it’s just as likely to have been anything else. Let me think; what +name might ‘M.H.’ stand for? Mary Hall? Margaret Harper? Mari——. No, no, +I dare not think that—at least, not yet!”</p> + +<p>Once more she wrapped up her little parcel of relics, and returned it to +its place at the bottom of her trunk.</p> + +<p>“Heigho!” she exclaimed, as, having closed and locked the trunk, she +sprang to her feet. “How I do wonder who I am!”</p> + +<p> </p> +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 265]</span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 359px;"> +<img src="images/img274.jpg" width="359" height="562" alt="Tiny Shoe" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“A tiny shoe.”—<a href="#Page_264"><em>Page 264.</em></a></span> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 267]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>TOMMY DUDGEON UNDERTAKES A DELICATE ENTERPRISE.</strong></p> + + +<p>The time which had elapsed since the first visit of Miss Owen to the house +of “the little Twin Brethren” had constituted, for Tommy Dudgeon, a period +of mental unrest. If he had been perturbed before, he was twice as uneasy +now. He had made the joyous discovery which he had been expecting to make +almost ever since he had seen the young secretary walking in her emphatic +way along the street. But, joyous as the discovery was, the making of it +had actually increased the perturbation of his mind. His trouble was that +he could not tell how he would ever be able to make his discovery known. +He did not doubt that, to his dear friend, “Cobbler” Horn, and to the +young secretary, the communication of it would impart great joy. But he +was restrained by a fear, which would arise, notwithstanding his feeling<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 268]</span> +of certainty, lest he should prove to be mistaken after all; and his fear +was reinforced by an inward persuasion which he had that he was the most +awkward person in the world by whom so delicate a communication could be +made.</p> + +<p>Yet he told himself he was quite sure that the young secretary was no +other than little Marian come back. His doubts had vanished when he had +seen her sitting in the old arm-chair, just as when she was a child; and +every time he had seen her since that day his assurance had been made more +sure. But, as long as he was compelled to keep his discovery to himself, +it was almost the same as though he had not made it at all.</p> + +<p>Tommy almost wished that some one else had made the great discovery, as +well as himself. His thoughts had turned to his brother John; and he had +resolved to put him to the test, which he had subsequently done with +considerable tact. On the evening of the day following that of the first +visit of Miss Owen to their house, the brothers had been sitting by the +fire before going to bed.</p> + +<p>“John,” Tommy had said, seizing his opportunity, “you saw the young lady +who was here the other day?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“She’s the secretary, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said John again, yawning; for he was sleepy.</p> + +<p>“Well, what did you think of her?”</p> + +<p>John started, and regarded his brother with a stare<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 269]</span> of astonishment. It +was the first time Tommy had ever asked his opinion on such a subject. Was +he thinking of getting married, or what? John Dudgeon had a certain broad +sense of humour which enabled him to perceive such ludicrous elements of a +situation as showed themselves on the surface.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he exclaimed slyly; “are you there?”</p> + +<p>Tommy put out his hands in some confusion.</p> + +<p>“No, no,” he said, “not what you think! But did you notice anything +particular about the young lady?”</p> + +<p>“Well no,” replied John, “except that I thought she was a very nice young +person. But, Tommy, isn’t she rather too young? If you really are thinking +of getting married, wouldn’t it be better to choose some one a little +nearer your own age?”</p> + +<p>John would not be dissuaded from the idea that his brother was intent on +matrimonial thoughts. Tommy waved his hand, in a deprecatory way, and +rising from his chair, said “good night,” and betook himself to bed.</p> + +<p>It was plain that he was quite alone in his discovery. What was he to do? +To speak to Miss Owen on the subject was out of the question. The only +alternative was to communicate the good news to “Cobbler” Horn himself. +But there seemed to be stupendous difficulties involved in such a course. +He was aware that there was nothing his friend would more rejoice to know +than that which he had to tell. From various hints thrown out by “Cobbler” +Horn, Tommy knew that he regarded Miss Owen with much<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 270]</span> of the fondness of +a father; and it was not likely that the joy of finding his lost child +would be diminished in the least by the fact that she had presented +herself in the person of his secretary. But this consideration did not +relieve the perplexity with which the little huckster contemplated the +necessity of making known his secret to “Cobbler” Horn. For, to say +nothing of the initial obstacle of his own timidity, he feared it would +be almost impossible to convince his friend that his strange surmise was +correct. If “Cobbler” Horn had not discovered for himself the identity of +his secretary with his long-lost child, was it likely that he would accept +that astounding fact on the testimony of any other person?</p> + +<p>It is needless to say that Tommy Dudgeon made his perplexity a matter of +prayer. He prayed and pondered, night and day; and, at length a thought +came to him which seemed to point out the way of which he was in search. +Might he not give “Cobbler” Horn some covert hint which would put him on +the track of making the great discovery for himself? Surely some such +thing, though difficult, might be done! He must indeed be cautious, and +not by any means reveal his design. The suggestion must seem to be +incidental and unpremeditated. There must be no actual mention of little +Marian, and no apparently intentional indication of Miss Owen. Something +must be said which might induce “Cobbler” Horn to associate the idea of +his little lost Marian with that of his young secretary—to place them +side by side before his mind. And it must all arise in the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 271]</span> course of +conversation, the order of which—he Tommy Dudgeon, must deliberately +plan. The audacity of the thought made his hair stand up.</p> + +<p>It was a delicate undertaking indeed! The little man felt like a surgeon +about to perform a critical operation upon his dearest friend. He was +preparing to open an old wound in the heart of his beloved benefactor. +True, he hoped so to deal with it that it should never bleed again. But +what if he failed? That would be dreadful! Yet the attempt must be made. +So he set himself to his task. His opportunity came on the afternoon of +the day following that of the opening of the “Home.” Watching from the +corner of his window, as he was wont, about three o’clock, Tommy saw “the +Golden Shoemaker” come along the street, and enter his old house. Then the +little man turned away from the window, and became very nervous. For quite +two minutes he stood back against the shelves, trying to compose himself. +When he had succeeded, in some degree, in steadying his quivering nerves, +he reached from under the counter a brown-paper parcel containing a pair +of boots, which had, for some days, been lying in readiness for the +occasion which had now arrived, and, calling John to mind the shop, +slipped swiftly into the street. A minute later he was standing in the +doorway of “Cobbler” Horn’s workshop. “The little Twin Brethren” had, at +first, been disposed to refrain from availing themselves of the gratuitous +labours of their friend; but, perceiving that it would afford him +pleasure, they had yielded with an easy grace, and<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 272]</span> now Tommy was glad +to have so good an excuse for a visit to “the Golden Shoemaker,” as was +supplied by the boots in the parcel under his arm.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn perceived the nervousness of his visitor, and thinking it +strange that the bringing of a pair of boots to be mended should have +occasioned his humble little friend so much trepidation, he did his best, +by adopting a specially sociable tone, to put him at his ease.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Tommy, what have we there?” he asked. “More work for the ‘Cobbler,’ +eh?”</p> + +<p>“Just an old pair of boots which want mending, Mr. Horn,” said Tommy, in +uncertain tones, as he unwrapped the boots and held them out with a +shaking hand—“that is, if you are not too busy.”</p> + +<p>“Not by any means,” said “Cobbler” Horn, with a smile. “Put them down.”</p> + +<p>Tommy obeyed.</p> + +<p>There stood against the wall, a much-worn wooden chair from which the back +had been sawn off close.</p> + +<p>“I’ll sit down, if you don’t mind,” gasped Tommy, depositing himself upon +this superannuated seat.</p> + +<p>“By all means,” said “Cobbler” Horn cordially; “make yourself quite at +home.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” said Tommy, drawing from his pocket a red and yellow +handkerchief, with which he vigorously mopped his brow.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn waited calmly for his perturbed visitor to become composed; +and Tommy sat for some minutes, staring helplessly at “Cobbler” Horn, and +still rubbing his forehead. What had become of<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 273]</span> the astute plan of +operations which the little man had laid down?</p> + +<p>“You have surely something on your mind, friend?” said “Cobbler” Horn, in +an enquiring tone.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I have,” said Tommy, somewhat relieved; “it’s been there for some +time.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what is it? Can I help you in any way?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no; I don’t want help.”</p> + +<p>His utterly incapacitated demeanour belied him; but he was speaking of +financial help.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been thinking of the past, Mr. Horn,” he managed to say, making a +faint effort to direct the conversation according to his original design.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” sighed “Cobbler” Horn. “Of the past!” With the word, his thoughts +darted back to that period of his own past towards which they so often +sadly turned.</p> + +<p>“I somehow can’t help it,” continued Tommy, gathering courage. “There +seems to be something that keeps bringing it up.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn fixed his keen eyes on the agitated face of his visitor. He +knew what it was in the past to which Tommy referred, and appreciated his +delicacy of expression.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Tommy,” he said, “and I, too, often think of the past. But is there +anything special that brings it to your mind just now?”</p> + +<p>Upon this, all Tommy Dudgeon’s clever plans vanished into air. His scheme +for leading the conversation up to the desired point utterly broke down. +He cast himself on the mercy of his friend.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 274]</span>“Oh,” he cried, in thrilling tones, “can’t you see it? Can’t you feel +it—every day? The sec’tary! The sec’tary! If it is so plain to me, how +can you be so blind?”</p> + +<p>Then he darted from the room, and betook himself home with all speed.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 275]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.</strong></p> + + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn’s first thought was that the strain of eccentricity in his +humble little friend had developed into actual insanity. But, on further +consideration, he was disposed to take another view. He felt bound to +admit that, though there had been a strangeness in the behaviour of the +little man throughout his visit, it had not afforded any actual ground for +the suspicion of insanity, until he had so suddenly rushed away home. It +was, therefore, possible that there might prove to be some important +meaning in what he had said. At first “Cobbler” Horn had gathered nothing +intelligible from the impassioned apostrophe of his excited little friend; +but, by degrees, there dawned upon him some faint gleam of what its +meaning might be. “The sec’tary!” That was the quaint term by which Tommy +was wont to designate<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 276]</span> Miss Owen. But their conversation had been drifting +in the direction of his little lost Marian. Why, then, should Miss Owen +have been in Tommy’s mind? Ah, he saw how it was! His humble friend had +perceived that Miss Owen was a dear, good girl; and he had noticed her +evident attachment to him—“Cobbler” Horn, and his fondness for her, and +no doubt the little man had meant to suggest that she should take the +place of the lost child. It was characteristic of his humble friend that +he should seek, by such a hint, to point out a course which, no doubt, +seemed to him, likely to afford satisfaction to all concerned; and +“Cobbler” Horn could not help admiring the delicacy with which it had been +done.</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker” was quite persuaded that he had hit upon the right +interpretation of the little huckster’s words; and he was not altogether +displeased with the suggestion he supposed them to convey. Of course +Marian would ultimately come back; and no one else could be permitted +permanently to occupy her place. But there was no reason why he should not +let his young secretary take, for the time being, as far as possible, the +place which would have been filled by his lost child. In fact, Miss Owen +was almost like a daughter to him already; and he was learning to love her +as such. Well, he would adopt the suggestion of his little friend. His +secretary should fill, for the time, the vacant place in his life. Yet he +would never leave off loving his precious Marian; and her own share of +love, which could never be given to another, must be reserved for her<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 277]</span> +against her return, when he would have two daughters instead of one.</p> + +<p>Thus mused “the Golden Shoemaker,” until, suddenly recollecting himself, +he started up. He had promised to visit one of his former neighbours, who +was sick, and it was already past the time at which the visit should have +been made. He hastily threw off his leathern apron, and put on his coat +and hat. At the same moment, he observed that heavy rain was beating +against the window. It was now early summer; and, misled by the fair face +of the sky, he had left home without an umbrella. What was he to do? He +passed into the kitchen, and opening the front door, stood looking out +upon the splashing rain. Behind him, in the room, sat, at her sewing, the +good woman whom he had placed in charge of the house. She was small, and +plump, and shining, the very picture of content. Her manner was +respectful, and, as a rule, she did not address “Cobbler” Horn until he +had spoken to her. To-day, however, she was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>“Surely, sir, you won’t go out in such a rain!”</p> + +<p>As she spoke, the shower seemed suddenly to gather force, and the rain to +descend in greater volume than ever.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mrs. Bunn,” replied “Cobbler” Horn, looking round. “I think I +will wait for a moment or two; but I have no time to spare, and must go +soon, in any case.”</p> + +<p>The rain had turned the street into a river, upon the surface of which the +plumply-falling drops were<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 278]</span> producing multitudes of those peculiar +gleaming white splashes which are known to childhood as “sixpences and +half-crowns.” All at once the downpour diminished. The sky became lighter, +and the sun showed a cleared face through the thinning clouds.</p> + +<p>“I think I may venture now,” said “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Better wait a little longer, sir; it ’ull come on again,” said Mrs. Bunn, +with the air of a person to whom the foibles of the weather were fully +known. But “Cobbler” Horn was already in the street, and had not heard her +words. It was some distance to the house of his sick friend, and he walked +along at a rapid pace. But before he had proceeded far, the prophecy of +Mrs. Bunn was fulfilled. In a moment, the sky grew black again; and, after +a preliminary dash of heavy drops, the rain came down in greater abundance +than before. It almost seemed as though a water-spout had burst. In two +minutes, “the Golden Shoemaker” was wet to the skin. He might have +returned to the house, from which he was distant no more than a few +hundred yards; but he thought that, as he was already wet through, he +might as well go on. Besides, “Cobbler” Horn’s promise was sacred, and it +had been given to his sick friend. So he plunged on through the flooded +and splashing streets.</p> + +<p>When he reached his destination, he was glad that he had not turned back. +His poor friend was much worse, and it was evident that he had not many<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 279]</span> +hours to live. Forgetful of his own discomfort, and heedless of danger +from his wet clothes, “Cobbler” Horn took his place at the bedside, and +remained for many hours with the dying man. His friend was a Christian, +and did not fear to die. He had never been married, was almost without +relatives, and had scarcely a friend. As, hour after hour, he held the +hand of the dying man, “Cobbler” Horn whispered in his ear, from time to +time, a cheering word, or breathed a fervent prayer. The feeble utterances +of the dying man, which became less frequent as the hours crept away, left +no doubt as to the reality of his faith in God, and, about midnight, he +passed peacefully away.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn lingered a few moments’ longer, and set out for home. The +rain had long ceased, and the sky was without a cloud. The semi-tropical +shower had been followed by a rapid cooling of the atmosphere, and he +shivered in his still damp clothes, as he hurried along.</p> + +<p>He found Miss Jemima and the young secretary anxiously awaiting his +return. They knew of his intention of visiting his sick friend, and were +not much surprised that he was so late. But his sister was greatly +concerned to find that he had remained so long with his clothes damp. He +went at once to bed, and Miss Jemima insisted upon bringing to him there +a steaming basin of gruel. He took a few spoonfuls, and then lay wearily +back upon the bed. Miss Jemima shook up his pillows, arranged the +bed-clothes, and reluctantly left him for the night.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 280]</span>In the morning it was evident that “the Golden Shoemaker” was ill. The +wetting he had received, followed by the effect of the chill night air, +had found out an unsuspected weakness in his constitution, and symptoms of +acute bronchitis had set in. The doctor was hastily summoned, and, after +the manner of his kind, gravely shook his head, by way of intimating that +the case was much more serious than he was prepared verbally to admit. The +condition of the patient, indeed, was such as to justify the most alarming +interpretation of the doctor’s manner and words.</p> + +<p>Now followed a time of painful suspense. In spite of all that money could +do, “Cobbler” Horn grew worse daily. The visits of the doctor, though +repeated twice, and even three times a day, produced but little +appreciable result. Could it be that this man, into whose possession such +vast wealth had so recently come, was so early to be called to relinquish +it again? Was it possible that all this money was so soon to drop from the +hands which had seemed more fit to hold it than almost any other hands to +which had ever been entrusted the disposal of money?</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima did not ask herself such questions as these. She moved about +the house, trying, in her grim way, to crush down within her heart the +anguished thought that her beloved and worshipped brother lay at the point +of death.</p> + +<p>And Miss Owen—with what emotions did she contemplate the possibility of +that dread event the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 281]</span> actual occurrence of which became more probable +every day? She went about her duties like one in a dream. What would it +mean to her if he were to die? She would lose a great benefactor, and a +dear friend; and that would be grief enough. But was there not something +more that she would lose—something which had seemed almost within her +grasp, which it had hitherto been the hope, and yet the fear, of her life +that she might find, but which, of late, she had desired to find with an +ardent and unhalting hope? It was with a sick heart that the young +secretary discharged, from day to day, her now familiar duties. She was +now so well acquainted with the mind of her employer, that she could deal +with the correspondence almost as well without, as with, his help. But she +missed him every moment, and the thought that he might never again take +his place over against her at the office table filled her with bitter +grief.</p> + +<p>There were others who were anxious on account of the peril which +threatened the life of “the Golden Shoemaker.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Durnford was weighted with grave concern. He called every day to see +his friend; and each time he left the sick-chamber, he was uncertain +whether his predominant feeling was that of sorrow for the illness and +danger of so good a man, or rejoicing that, in his pain and peril, +“Cobbler” Horn was so patient and resigned.</p> + +<p>In the breasts of many who were accustomed to receive benefits at the +hands of “the Golden<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 282]</span> Shoemaker,” there was great distress. Every day, and +almost every hour, there were callers, chiefly of the humbler classes, +with anxious enquiries on their lips. Not the least solicitous of these +were “the Little Twin Brethren.” Tommy Dudgeon almost continually haunted +the house where his honoured friend lay in such dire straits. The anxiety +of the little man was intensified by a burning desire to know whether his +desperate appeal on the subject of the “sec’tary” had produced its +designed effect on the mind of “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>Public sympathy with “Cobbler” Horn and his anxious friends ran deep; and +every one who could claim, in any degree, the privilege of a friend, made +frequent enquiry as to the sufferer’s state. But neither public sympathy +nor private grief were of much avail; and it seemed, for a time, as though +the earthly course of “the Golden Shoemaker” was almost run. There came a +day when the doctors confessed that they could do no more. A few hours +must decide the question of life or death. Dreadful was the suspense in +the stricken house, and great the sorrow in many hearts outside. Mr. +Durnford, who had been summoned early in the morning, remained to await +the issue of the day. Little Tommy Dudgeon, who had been informed that the +crisis was near, came, and lingered about the house, on one pretence or +another, unable to tear himself away.</p> + +<p>But how was it with “the Golden Shoemaker” himself? From the first, he had +been calm and patient; and, even now, when he was confronted<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 283]</span> with the +grim visage of death, he did not flinch. Long accustomed to leave the +issues of his life to God, willing to live yet prepared to die, he +realized his position without dismay. No doctor ever had a more tractable +patient than was “Cobbler” Horn; and he yielded himself to his nurses like +an infant of days. In the earlier stages of his illness, he had thought +much about the mysterious words and strange behaviour of his friend Tommy +Dudgeon, on the day on which he had been taken ill. Further consideration +had not absolutely confirmed “Cobbler” Horn’s first impression as to the +meaning of the little huckster’s words. Pondering them as he lay in bed, +he had become less sure that his humble little friend had intended simply +to suggest the admirable fitness of the young secretary to take the place +of his lost child. Surely, he had thought, the impassioned exclamation of +the eccentric little man must have borne some deeper significance than +that! And then he had become utterly bewildered as to what meaning the +singular words of Tommy Dudgeon had been intended to convey. And then +there came a glimmering—nothing more—of the idea his faithful friend had +wished to impart. But, just when he might have penetrated the mystery, if +he could have thought it out a little more, he became too ill to think at +all.</p> + +<p>After this his mind wandered slightly, and once or twice a strange fancy +beset him that his little Marian was in the room, and that she was putting +her soft hands on his forehead; but, in a moment, the fancy<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 284]</span> was gone, and +he was aware that the young secretary was laying her cool gentle palm upon +his burning brow.</p> + +<p>It had been a wonderful comfort to the girl that she had been permitted to +take a spell of nursing now and then.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 285]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>A LITTLE SHOE.</strong></p> + + +<p>That which happens now and then occurred in the case of “Cobbler” Horn. +The doctors proved to be mistaken; and thanks to a strong and unimpaired +constitution, and to the blessing of God on efficient nursing and medical +skill, “the Golden Shoemaker” survived the crisis of his illness, and +commenced a steady return to health and strength.</p> + +<p>Great was the joy on every side. But, perhaps, the person who rejoiced +most was Miss Owen. Not even the satisfaction of Miss Jemima at the +ultimate announcement of the doctors, that their patient might now do +well, was greater than was that of the young secretary. Miss Owen rejoiced +for very special reasons of her own. During the convalescence of “Cobbler” +Horn, the young secretary was with him very much. He was glad to have her +in his<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 286]</span> room; and, as his strength returned, he talked to her often about +herself. He seemed anxious to know all she could tell him of her early +life.</p> + +<p>“Sit down here, by the bed,” he would say eagerly, taking her plump, brown +wrist in his wasted fingers, “and tell me about yourself.”</p> + +<p>She would obey him, laughing gently, less at the nature of the request, +than at the eagerness with which it was made.</p> + +<p>“Now begin,” he said one evening, for the twentieth time, settling himself +beneath the bed-clothes to listen, as though he had never heard the story +before; “and mind you don’t leave anything out.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” she commenced, “I was a little wandering mite, with hardly any +clothes and only one shoe. I was——”</p> + +<p>His hand was on her arm in an instant. This was the first time she had +mentioned the fact that, when she was found by the friends by whom she had +been brought up, one of her feet was without a shoe.</p> + +<p>“Only one shoe, did you say?” asked “Cobbler” Horn, in tremulous tones.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she replied, not suspecting the tumult of thoughts her simple +statement had excited in his mind.</p> + +<p>In truth, her statement had agitated her listener in no slight degree. He +did not, as yet, fully perceive its significance. But the coincidence was +so very strange! One shoe! Only one shoe! His little Marian had lost one +of her shoes when she strayed away. A wonderful coincidence, indeed!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 287]</span>“I was very dirty, and my clothes were torn,” resumed Miss Owen; “and I +was altogether a very forlorn little thing, I have no doubt. I don’t +remember much about it, myself, you know; but Mrs. Burton has often told +me that I was crying at the time, and appeared to have been so engaged for +some time. It was one evening in June, and getting dusk. Mr. and Mrs. +Burton had been for a walk in the country, and were returning home, when +they came upon me, walking very slowly, poking my fists into my eyes, and +crying, as I said. When they asked me what was the matter, I couldn’t tell +them much. I seemed to be trying to say something about a ‘bad woman,’ and +my ‘daddy.’ They couldn’t even make out, with certainty, what I said my +name was. Little as you might think it, Mr. Horn. I was a very bad talker +in those days. ‘Mary Ann Owen’ was what my kind friends thought I called +myself; and ‘Mary Ann Owen’ I have been ever since.</p> + +<p>“Well, these dear people took me home; and, after they had washed me, and +found some clothes for me which had belonged to a little girl they had +lost—their only child—they gave me a good basin of bread and milk, and +put me to bed.</p> + +<p>“The next day they tried to get me to tell them something more, but it was +no use; and as I couldn’t tell them where I lived, and they didn’t even +feel sure about my name, they naturally felt themselves at a loss. But I +don’t think they were much troubled about that; for I believe they were +quite prepared to keep me as their own child. You see they had lost<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 288]</span> a +little one; and there was a vacant place that I expect they thought I +might fill. They did, at first, try to find out who I was. But they +altogether failed; and so, without more ado, they just made me their own +little girl. They taught me to call them ‘father’ and ‘mother’; and they +have always been so good and kind!”</p> + +<p>Though several points in Miss Owen’s story had touched him keenly, +“Cobbler” Horn quickly regained his composure after the first start of +surprise. Feeling himself too weak to do battle with agitating thoughts, +he put aside, for the time, the importunate questions which besieged his +mind.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” he said quietly, when the narrative was finished. “To-morrow +we will talk about it all again. I think I can go to sleep now. But will +you first, please, read a little from the dear old book.”</p> + +<p>The young girl reached a Bible which stood always on a table by the +bedside, and, turning to one of his favourite places, read, in her sweet +clear tones, words of comfort and strength. Then she bade him “good +night,” and moved towards the door. But he called her back.</p> + +<p>“Will you take these letters?” he said, with his hand on a bundle of +letters which lay on the table at his side; “and put them into the safe.”</p> + +<p>They were letters of importance, to which he had been giving, during the +evening, such attention as he was able. During his illness, he had allowed +his secretary to keep the key of the safe.</p> + +<p>Miss Owen took the letters, and went downstairs.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 289]</span> Going first into the +dining-room, she told Miss Jemima that “Cobbler” Horn seemed likely to go +to sleep, and then proceeded to the office. Without delay, she unlocked +the safe, and was in the act of depositing the bundle of letters in its +place, when, from a recess at the back, a small tissue-paper parcel, which +she had never previously observed, fell down to the front, and became +partially undone. As she picked it up, intending to restore it to the +place from which it had fallen, her elbow struck the side of the safe, and +the parcel was jerked out of her hand. In trying to save it, she retained +in her grasp a corner of the paper, which unfolded itself, and there fell +out upon the floor a little child’s shoe, around which was wrapped a strip +of stained and faded pink print. At a sight so unexpected she uttered a +cry. Then she picked up the little shoe, and, having released it from its +bandage, turned it over and over in her hands. Next she gave her attention +to the piece of print. She was utterly dazed. Suddenly the full meaning of +her discovery flashed upon her mind. She dropped the simple articles by +which she had been so deeply moved, and, covering her face with her hands, +burst into a paroxysm of joyous tears. But her agitation was brief. +Hastily drying her eyes, she picked up the little shoe. No need to wait +till she had compared it with the one which lay in the corner of her box! +The image of the latter was imprinted on her mind with the exactness of a +photograph, with its every wrinkle and spot, and every slash it had +received from that unknown, wanton<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 290]</span> hand. She <em>could</em> compare the two +shoes here and now, as exactly as though she actually saw them side by +side. Yes, this little shoe was indeed the fellow of her own! And the +strip of print—what was it but her missing bonnet-string? She had found +what she had so often longed to find. And she herself was—yes, why should +she hesitate to say it?—the little Marian of whom she had so often heard!</p> + +<p>How wonderful it was! Here was truth stranger than fiction, indeed! She +laughed—a gentle, trilling laugh, low and sweet. But ah, she could not +tell him! She could not say to him, “I am the daughter you lost so long +ago. I have seen in your safe the fellow of the shoe I wore when I was +found by my kind friends.” Of course it would convince him; but she could +not say it. She must wait until he found out the truth for himself. But +would he ever find it out? She hoped and thought he would. Had he not +marked what she said about her having had on only one shoe when she was +found? And would not that lead him to think and enquire? Meanwhile, she +herself knew the wonderful truth; and she could afford to wait. It would +all come right, of course it would; any other thought was too ridiculous +to be entertained.</p> + +<p>Very quietly, and with almost reverent fingers, she wound the faded +bonnet-string once more around the little shoe, and wrapped them up again +in the much-crumpled paper.</p> + +<p>“How often must he have unfolded it!” was the thought that nestled in her +heart, as she replaced the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 291]</span> precious parcel in the safe, and closed and +locked the ponderous door.</p> + +<p>From the office, the young secretary went directly to her own room. To +open her trunk, and plunge her hand down into the corner where lay her own +little parcel of relics, was the work of a moment. There was certainly no +room for doubt. The little, stout, leather shoe which she had treasured so +long was the fellow of the one she had just seen in the safe downstairs. +There was the very same curve of the sole, made by the pressure of the +little foot—her own, and similar inequalities in the upper part. With a +sudden movement, she lifted the tiny shoe to her lips. And here was her +funny old sun-bonnet! How often she had wondered what had become of its +other string! Last of all, she took up the little chemise, which completed +her simple store of relics, and gazed intently upon the red letters with +which it was marked. All uncertainty as to their meaning was gone. What +could “M.H.” stand for but “Marian Horn”? With a grateful heart, she +rolled up her treasures, and, having consigned them once more to their +place in the trunk, went downstairs. Miss Jemima was indisposed; and, +having seen the nurse duly installed in the sick-room, she had retired +for the night. Accordingly, Miss Owen, much to her relief, had supper +by herself. She felt that she did not wish to talk to any one just at +present, and to Miss Jemima least of all.</p> + +<p>When the young secretary fell asleep that night, she was lulled with the +sweetness of the thought that<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 292]</span> she had not only found her father, but had +discovered him in the person of the best man she had ever known. The +discovery of her father might have proved a bitter disappointment; it +was actually such as to fill her with unspeakable gratitude. She did not +greatly regret that she had not found her mother, as well as her father. +It would probably have caused her real grief, if any one had appeared to +claim the place in her heart which was held by the woman from whom she had +always received, in a peculiar degree, a mother’s love and a mother’s +care. One could find room for any number of fathers—provided they were +worthy. But a mother!—her place was sacred; there could be no sharing of +her throne.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 293]</span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>A JOYOUS DISCOVERY.</strong></p> + + +<p>It was long that night before “Cobbler” Horn fell asleep. He was free from +pain, and felt better altogether than at any time since the beginning of +his illness. Yet he could not sleep. The story of his young secretary, as +she had told it this evening, had supplied him with thoughts calculated to +banish slumber from the most drowsy eyes.</p> + +<p>Miss Owen had told him her simple story many times before; but this +evening she had introduced certain new particulars of a startling kind; +and it was as the result of the thoughts thereby suggested that he was +unable to sleep. The few additional details which the young secretary had +included in her narrative this evening had given a new aspect to the +story. There was the solitary shoe she had worn at the time when she had +come into the kind hands of Mr. and Mrs. Burton, and the fact that<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 294]</span> she +was a very indistinct talker at the time. The entire story, too, seemed +to correspond so well—why should he not admit it?—with what might not +improbably have been the history of his little Marian; and Marian would +be, at that time, about the same age as was Miss Owen when she was found +by the friends whose adopted child she became. But the solitary shoe! He +wondered whether it was still in her possession. He would ask her in the +morning. And then the indistinct talk of which she had spoken! How well +he remembered the pretty broken speech of his own little pet! Then there +returned to him that gleam of intelligence with regard to the meaning of +the strange words of Tommy Dudgeon with which he had been visited at the +beginning of his illness. Surely this was what his faithful friend had +meant! From the great affection of the little huckster for Marian, it was +likely that he would have a vivid recollection of the child; and no doubt +the little man had already discerned what the father himself was only now, +after so many hints, beginning to perceive. Thus he pondered through the +night. Strange to say, he felt neither sleepy nor tired. He was refreshed +by the gracious prophecy of coming joy which the story of his young +secretary had supplied; and when, after falling asleep in the early hours +of the morning, he awoke towards eight o’clock, he felt as though he had +slept all night.</p> + +<p>It was the custom for the young secretary to pay a visit to her employer’s +room soon after breakfast, for the purpose of laying before him any of +the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 295]</span> morning’s letters to which it was imperative that his personal +attention should be given. Most frequently Miss Owen’s visit was, as far +as business was concerned, a mere formality, or little more. There were +few of the letters with which she herself was not able to deal; and all +that was necessary, as a rule, was for her to make a general report, which +“Cobbler” Horn invariably received with an approving smile. Then the +favoured young secretary would linger for a few moments in the room. She +would hover about the bed; asking how he had passed the night; performing +a variety of tender services, which, though he had not previously realized +the need of them, increased his comfort to a wonderful extent; and +talking, all the while, in her merry, heartsome way, like a privileged +child, with now and then a gentle, cooing little laugh.</p> + +<p>There was nothing, in the whole course of the day, that “the Golden +Shoemaker” enjoyed so much as the morning visit of his fresh young +secretary. But he had never before anticipated it as eagerly as he did +this morning. He had long looked upon this young girl rather in the light +of a devoted daughter, than of a paid secretary. What if, unconsciously +to them both, she had thus grown into her rightful place! As the time +approached for her appearance, he had insensibly brought himself to face +more fully the wonderful possibility which had been presenting itself to +his mind during the last few hours. The nurse was surprised that, though +he seemed to be even better than usual, he could scarcely eat any<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 296]</span> +breakfast. All the time, he was watching the door, and listening for the +slightest sound. He wondered whether Miss Owen still had in her possession +the little shoe of which she had spoken. He must ask her that at once. And +how he yearned to search her face, with one long, scrutinising gaze!</p> + +<p>At last she came, radiant, as usual! Did he notice that a slight shyness +veiled her face, and that there was an unusual tremor in her voice as she +wished him “good morning”? If “Cobbler” Horn perceived these signs, he +paid them but scant regard. He was too much absorbed in his own thoughts, +to consider what those of his young secretary might be; and he was too +busily engaged in scrutinising the permanent features of her face, to give +much heed to its transient expression. What he saw did not greatly assist +in the settlement of the question which occupied his mind. And small +wonder that it should be so; for, when he had last seen his Marian, she +was a little girl of five.</p> + +<p>No less eagerly than “Cobbler” Horn scanned the countenance of his young +secretary, did her eyes, that morning, seek his face. She too had passed a +broken night. But it had not seemed wearisome or long. Happy thoughts had +rendered sleep an impertinence at first; and, when healthy youthful nature +had, at length, asserted itself, the young girl had slept only in pleasant +snatches, waking every now and then from some delicious dream, to assure +herself that the sweetest dream could not be half so delightful as the +glad reality which had come into her life.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 297]</span>If these two people could have read each other’s thoughts—— But +that might not be. She wished him “good morning,” in her own bright way; +and he responded with his usual benignant smile. Then they proceeded to +business. There was one very important letter, which demanded some +expenditure of time. The secretary was not altogether herself. Her hand +trembled a little, and there was a slight quaver in her voice. Her +employer noticed these signs of discomposure, and spoke of them in his +kindly way.</p> + +<p>“Surely you are not well this morning!” he said, placing his hand lightly +on her wrist.</p> + +<p>His secretary was usually so self-possessed.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes,” she said, with a start, “I am quite well—quite.”</p> + +<p>She smiled at the very idea of her not being well, knowing what she did.</p> + +<p>“Come and sit down beside me for a little while,” said “Cobbler” Horn, +when their business was finished; “and let us have some talk.”</p> + +<p>It was the ordinary invitation; but there was something unusual in the +tone of his voice. As the young girl took her seat at the bedside, her +previous agitation in some degree returned. “Cobbler” Horn’s fingers +closed upon her hand, with a gentle pressure.</p> + +<p>“My dear young lady, there is something that I wish to ask you.”</p> + +<p>There was just the slightest tremor in his voice; and the young secretary +was distinctly conscious of the beating of her heart.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 298]</span>“Yes, sir,” she said, faintly, trembling a little.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be agitated,” he continued, for it was impossible to overlook the +fact of her excitement. “It’s a very simple matter.”</p> + +<p>He did not know—how could he?—that her thoughts were running in the same +direction as his own.</p> + +<p>“You said,” he pursued, “that, when you were found by your good friends, +you were wearing only one shoe. Did you—have you that shoe still?”</p> + +<p>It was evident that he was agitated now. Miss Owen started, and he could +feel her hand quiver within his grasp, like a frightened bird.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she answered in a whisper, above which she felt powerless to raise +her voice, “I have kept it ever since.”</p> + +<p>“Then,” he resumed, having now quite recovered his self-possession, “would +you mind letting me see it?”</p> + +<p>With a strong effort, she succeeded in maintaining her self-control.</p> + +<p>“Oh no, not at all, sir!” she said, rising, and moving towards the door; +“I’ll fetch it at once. But it isn’t much to look at now,” she added over +her shoulder, as she left the room.</p> + +<p>“‘Not much to look at’!” laughed “the Golden Shoemaker” softly to himself. +There was nothing that he had ever been half so anxious to see!</p> + +<p>Five minutes later he was sitting up in bed, turning over and over in his +hands the fellow of the little shoe which he had cherished for so many +years as the dearest memento of his lost child. Could there be any doubt?<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 299]</span> +Was it not his own handiwork? It had evidently received several random +slashes with a knife, and it still bore traces of mud. But he knew his own +work too well; and had he not looked upon the fellow of this shoe every +day for the last twelve years?</p> + +<p>Strange to say, so completely absorbed was “Cobbler” Horn in contemplating +the shoe which his Marian had worn, that, for the moment, he did not think +of Marian herself. At length he looked up. But he was alone. Discretion, +and the tumult of her emotions, had constrained the young secretary to +withdraw from the room. Putting a strong hand upon herself, she had +retired to the office, where she was, at that moment, diligently at work.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn sighed. But perhaps it was better that the young girl had +withdrawn. There was little room for doubt; but he must make assurance +doubly sure. He touched the electric bell at the head of the bed, and the +nurse immediately appeared.</p> + +<p>“Will you be so good as to tell Miss Horn I should like to see her at +once.”</p> + +<p>The nurse, marking the eagerness with which the request was uttered, and +observing the little shoe on the counterpane, perceived that the occasion +was urgent, and departed on her errand with all speed.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think he is any worse this morning,” she said to Miss Jemima when +she had delivered her message. “Indeed he seems, quite unaccountably, to +be very much better. But it is evident something has happened.”</p> + +<p>Without waiting to hear more, Miss Jemima hurried<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 300]</span> to her brother’s room. +Sitting up in bed, with a happy face, he was holding in his hand a +dilapidated child’s shoe, which he placed in his sister’s hands as soon +as she approached the bed.</p> + +<p>“Jemima, look at that!” he said joyously.</p> + +<p>Thinking it was the shoe which her brother had always preserved with so +much care, she took it, and examined it with much concern.</p> + +<p>“Whoever can have cut it about like that?” she cried.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn hastened to rectify her mistake.</p> + +<p>“No, Jemima,” he said, in a tone of reverent exultation; “it’s the other +shoe—the one we’ve been wanting to find all these years!”</p> + +<p>The first thought of Miss Jemima was that her brother had gone mad. Then +she examined the shoe more closely.</p> + +<p>“To be sure!” she said. “How foolish of me! Those cuts were made long +ago.”</p> + +<p>As she spoke, she put her hand on the table at the bedside, to steady +herself.</p> + +<p>“Brother,” she demanded, in trembling tones, “where did you get this shoe? +Did it come by the morning post?”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn answered deliberately. He would give his sister time to +take in the meaning of his words.</p> + +<p>“It has been in the possession of Miss Owen. She brought it to me just +now.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Owen?”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima’s first impulse was towards indignation.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 301]</span> What had Miss Owen +been doing with the shoe? But the next moment, she reflected that there +must be some reasonable explanation of the fact that the shoe had been in +the possession of her brother’s secretary—though what that explanation +might be Miss Jemima could not, as yet, divine.</p> + +<p>“She has had it,” resumed “Cobbler” Horn, in the same quiet tone as +before, “ever since she was a little girl. She was wearing it when she was +found by the good people by whom she was adopted.”</p> + +<p>Then light came to Miss Jemima, clear and full. She grasped her brother’s +shoulder, and remembered his weakness only just in time to refrain from +giving him a vigorous shake.</p> + +<p>“Brother, brother,” she cried, “do you understand what your words may +mean?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jemima—in part, at least. But we must make sure. First we will put +the two shoes together, and see that they really are the same.”</p> + +<p>“Why, surely, Thomas, you have no doubt?”</p> + +<p>“There seems little room for it, indeed; but we cannot make too sure!”</p> + +<p>He wanted to give himself time to become accustomed to the great joy which +was dawning on his life.</p> + +<p>“You know where the other shoe is, Jemima?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, in the safe.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and you know that, while I have been up here, Miss Owen has kept the +key of the safe?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 302]</span>Miss Jemima had undergone much mental chafing by reason of that knowledge.</p> + +<p>“Well, will you go to her in the office, and say I wish you to bring me +something out of the safe? She will not know what you bring. She will just +hand you the key, and go on with her work.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will go, brother. But are you sure she knows or suspects nothing? +She may have seen the shoe.”</p> + +<p>“Oh no; it is well wrapped up, and I am sure she would not touch the +parcel. I can trust my secretary,” he added, with a new-born pride.</p> + +<p>As Miss Jemima went down stairs, she wondered she had not long ago +lighted on the discovery which her brother had now made. It explained many +things. The tones and gestures which had so often startled her by their +familiarity; the vague feeling that, at some time, she must have known +this young girl before; the growing resemblance—evident to Miss Jemima’s +eyes, at least—of the young secretary to “Cobbler” Horn—these things, +which, with many kindred signs, Miss Jemima had hidden in her heart, had +their explanation in the discovery which had just been made.</p> + +<p>Miss Owen yielded the key of the safe without question. Though she +appeared to take no notice of Miss Jemima’s doings, she knew, as by +instinct, what Miss Jemima was taking out of the safe; and she told +herself that she must not, and would not, let it appear that she supposed +anything unusual was going on. She went on quietly with her work;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 303]</span> but it +was by dint of such an effort of self-control, as few human beings have +ever found it necessary to make, or could have made.</p> + +<p>As the result of the young secretary’s effort of self-repression, there +appeared in her face, at the moment when Miss Jemima turned to leave the +room, an expression so much like that assumed by the countenance of +“Cobbler” Horn at times when he was very firm, that the heart of Miss +Jemima gave a mighty bound.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Miss Jemima’s brother was eagerly awaiting her return. She had +been absent less than five minutes, when she once more entered his room.</p> + +<p>“There,” she said, holding the two little shoes out towards her brother, +side by side, “there can be no doubt about the shoes, at any rate. They +are a pair, sure enough. Why,” she continued, turning up the shoe that +Miss Owen had produced, “I remember noticing, that very morning, that half +the leather was torn away from the heel of one of the child’s shoes, just +like that.”</p> + +<p>As she spoke, she held out the shoe, and showed her brother that its +heel had been damaged exactly as she had described. Then a strange thing +happened to Miss Jemima. She dropped the little shoes upon the bed, and, +covering her face with her hands, cried gently for a few moments. “The +Golden Shoemaker” gazed at his sister in some wonder; and then two large +tears gathered in his own eyes, and rolled down his cheeks.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 304]</span>All at once Miss Jemima almost fiercely dashed her hand across her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Brother,” she cried, “I’ve often heard of tears of joy; but I didn’t +think I should live to say they were the only ones I had shed since I was +a little child! But there’s no mistake about those shoes. And there’s no +doubt about anything else either.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was, perhaps, quite as confident as his sister; but he was +a little more cautious.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jemima,” he said; “but we must be careful. A mistake would be +dreadful—both on our own account, and on that of—of Miss Owen. We must +send for Mr. and Mrs. Burton at once. Mr. Durnford will telegraph. It will +be necessary, of course, to tell him of our discovery; but he may be +trusted not to breathe it to any one else.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima readily assented to her brother’s proposal. Mr. Durnford was +sent for, and came without delay. His astonishment on hearing the +wonderful news his friends had to tell was hardly as great as they +expected. It is possible that this arose from the fact that he was +acquainted with the story of Miss Owen, and that his eyes and ears had +been open during the last few months. It was, however, with no lack of +heartiness that he complied with the request to send a telegram summoning +Mr. and Mrs. Burton to “Cobbler” Horn’s bedside.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 305]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>TOMMY DUDGEON’S CONTRIBUTION.</strong></p> + + +<p>After the despatch of the telegram, the words of Tommy Dudgeon, with +reference to the young secretary, recurred once more to the mind of +“Cobbler” Horn, and he mentioned them to his sister.</p> + +<p>“This must have been what the good fellow meant,” he said. “You remember, +Jemima, how fond they were of each other—Tommy and the child?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” responded Miss Jemima, reluctantly; for she still retained her +dislike for “those stupid Dudgeons.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know, Jemima, I have it on my mind to send for Tommy at once, and +ask him what he really meant.”</p> + +<p>“Send for him—to come in here?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; why not?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you must do as you like, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>A moment’s reflection had convinced the good<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 306]</span> lady that she had really no +sound reason to advance against the proposal her brother had made; and she +knew that, in any case, he would do as he thought fit.</p> + +<p>Accordingly a messenger was despatched for Tommy Dudgeon with all speed; +and the little huckster turned over to his brother, without compunction, +an important customer whom he happened to be serving at the time, and +hurried away to the bedside of his honoured friend.</p> + +<p>The servant who, in obedience to orders received, showed Tommy up at once +to “Cobbler” Horn’s room, handed in at the same time a telegram which had +just arrived from Mr. Burton, saying that he and Mrs. Burton might be +expected about three o’clock in the afternoon. “Cobbler” Horn placed the +pink paper on the little table by his bedside, and turned to Tommy, who +stood just within the doorway, nervously twisting his hat between his +hands.</p> + +<p>“Come in, Tommy, come in!” said “the Golden Shoemaker,” encouragingly, +“you see I am almost well.”</p> + +<p>Tommy advanced into the room; but being arrested by the sight of Miss +Jemima, who stood at the bed-foot, he stopped short half-way between the +bed and the door, and honoured that formidable lady with a trembling +bow. Miss Jemima’s mood this morning was complacency itself, and she +acknowledged the obeisance of the little huckster with a not ungracious +nod. Greatly encouraged, Tommy moved a pace or two nearer to the bed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 307]</span>“I’m deeply thankful, Mr. Horn,” he said, “to see you looking so well.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Tommy,” responded “Cobbler” Horn, with a smile, as he reached +out his hand. “The Lord is very good. No doubt He has more work for me to +do yet.”</p> + +<p>As Tommy almost reverently took the hand of his beloved and honoured +friend he thought to himself, “I wonder whether he has considered what +I said?”</p> + +<p>“The last time we met, Tommy,” began “Cobbler” Horn, as though in answer +to the unspoken question of the little man—“But, sit down, friend, sit +down.”</p> + +<p>Tommy protested that he would rather stand; but, being overborne, he +effected a compromise, by placing himself quite forward on the edge of +the chair, and depositing his hat on the floor, between his feet.</p> + +<p>“You remember the time?” resumed “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes; quite well!”</p> + +<p>“It was the afternoon of the day I was taken ill.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and Mrs. Bunn said you <em>would</em> go out in that dreadful rain.”</p> + +<p>Tommy did not add that he himself, watching through his shop window, in +the hope that his friend would come across to ask the meaning of his +mysterious words, had, with a sinking heart, seen him walk off in the +opposite direction through the drenching shower.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 308]</span>“Well,” said “Cobbler” Horn, with a smile, “I’ve had to pay for that, and +shall be all the wiser, no doubt. But there was something you said that +afternoon that I want to ask you about. At the time I thought I knew what +you meant. But I am inclined now to think I was mistaken, and that your +words referred to something quite different from what I then supposed. Do +you remember what you said?”</p> + +<p>It was impossible for Tommy Dudgeon to conceal the agitation of his mind. +He rejoiced at the opportunity to make known his great discovery to his +friend; and yet he trembled lest he should prove unequal to the task. He +thought, for a moment, that he would gain time by seeming not to +understand the reference his friend had made.</p> + +<p>“What words do you speak of, chiefly, Mr. Horn?” he asked tremulously, “I +said so many——”</p> + +<p>But Tommy Dudgeon could not dissemble. He stammered, stopped, wiped his +forehead, and stretched out his hands as though in appeal to the mercy of +his hearers.</p> + +<p>“Of course I know what words you mean!” he cried. “I wanted to tell you of +something I had seen for weeks, but that you didn’t seem to see. And I can +see it still; and there’s no mistake about it. I’m as certain sure of it, +as that I am sitting on this chair. It was about the sec’tary, and some +one else; and yet not anybody else, because they’re both the same. May I +tell you, Mr. Horn? Can you bear it, do you think?”</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker” regarded the eager<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 309]</span> face of his little friend with +glistening eyes; and Miss Jemima, leaning towards him over the framework +of the iron bedstead, listened with an intent countenance, from which all +trace of disfavour had vanished away.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said “Cobbler” Horn, in grave, calm tones; “tell us all. We are not +unprepared.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” said the little man, fervently. “But, oh, I wish you knew! I +wish God had been pleased to make it known to you,” he added with a +reminiscence of his Old Testament studies, “in a dream and vision of the +night. Oh, my dear friend, don’t you see that what you’ve been longing and +praying for all these years has come to pass—as we always knew it would; +and—and that she’s come back! she’s come back? There, that’s what I +meant!”</p> + +<p>“Then it really was so,” said “Cobbler” Horn. “I’m surprised I did not +perceive your meaning at the time.”</p> + +<p>Tommy thought him wonderfully calm.</p> + +<p>“But I must tell you, Tommy, that we have now very much reason to think +that your surmise is correct.”</p> + +<p>“<em>Surmise</em> is not the word, Mr. Horn; I know she’s come back!”</p> + +<p>“Of course you do,” interposed Miss Jemima, in emphatic tones.</p> + +<p>Tommy looked gratefully towards the hitherto dreadful lady; and she +regarded him with eyes which seemed to say, “you have won my favour once +for all.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 310]</span>“Can you tell us, Tommy,” asked “Cobbler” Horn, “what has made you so very +sure?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Tommy, with energy, “I’ll tell you. Everything has made me +sure—the way she walks along the street, with her head up, and putting +her foot down as if a regiment of soldiers wouldn’t stop her; and her +manner of coming into the shop and saying, ‘How are you to-day, Mr. +Dudgeon?’ and her sitting in the old arm-chair, and putting her head on +one side like a knowing little bird, and asking questions about +everything, and letting her eyes shine on you like stars. Begging your +pardon, Mr. Horn, she’s just the little lassie all over. Why I should know +her with my eyes shut, if she were only to speak up, and say, ‘Well, +Tommy, how are you, to-day?’”</p> + +<p>“But,” asked “Cobbler” Horn, whose heart, secretly, was almost bursting +with delight, “may you not be mistaken, after all?”</p> + +<p>“I am not mistaken,” replied Tommy firmly.</p> + +<p>“But it’s such a long while ago,” suggested “Cobbler” Horn; “and—and she +will be very much altered by this time. You <em>can’t</em> be sure that a young +woman is the same person as a little girl you haven’t seen for more than a +dozen years.”</p> + +<p>Herein, perhaps, “Cobbler” Horn’s own chief difficulty lay. “How,” he +asked, “can I think of Marian as being other than a little girl?” Tommy +Dudgeon did not seem to be troubled in that way at all.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, “I can be quite sure when I have<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 311]</span> known the little girl as +I knew that one; and when I have watched, and listened to, the young +woman, as I have been watching and listening to the sec’tary for these +months past.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn and Miss Jemima exchanged glances.</p> + +<p>“This is truly wonderful!” said he.</p> + +<p>“Not at all!” retorted she. “The wonder is, Thomas, that you and I have +been so blind all this time.”</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker” smiled gently, as he lay back upon his pillows. The +image of a small, dark-eyed child held possession of his mind; and he had +not been able readily to bring himself to see his little Marian in any +other form. As for any real doubt, there was only a shred of it left in +his mind now. Yet he still said to himself that he must make assurance +doubly sure.</p> + +<p>“Well, Tommy,” he said, “we are very much obliged to you. And now, will +you do us another kindness? We are expecting some friends this afternoon +who may be able to give us a good deal of light on this subject. Will you +come, when we send for you, and hear what they have to say?”</p> + +<p>“That I will!” was the hearty response, “I’ll come, Mr. Horn, whenever you +send.”</p> + +<p>“You have met these friends before, Tommy,” said “Cobbler” Horn. “They are +Mr. and Mrs. Burton—at the ‘Home,’ you know.”</p> + +<p>Tommy nodded.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 312]</span>“They found Miss Owen when she was a very little girl; and brought her up +as their own child; and we hope that what they may tell us about her will +help us to decide whether what we think is true.”</p> + +<p>Tommy nodded again with beaming eyes, and shortly afterwards took his +leave.</p> + +<p>“Now, brother,” said Miss Jemima, “you must take some rest, or we shall +have you ill again.”</p> + +<p>“Not much danger of that!” replied “Cobbler” Horn, smiling. “I think, +please God, I’ve found a better medicine now, than all the doctors in the +world could give me.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but you are excited, and the reaction will come, if you do not take +care.”</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps you are right, Jemima. But first, don’t you think she had +better be out of the way when Mr. and Mrs. Burton come?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’ve thought of that; she can take that poor girl along the road for +a drive.”</p> + +<p>“A capital idea. Have it arranged, Jemima.”</p> + +<p>“Very well. I’ll go and see about it at once; and you get to sleep.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 313]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>NO ROOM FOR DOUBT!</strong></p> + + +<p>At the appointed time, Mr. and Mrs. Burton arrived. Being, as yet, +ignorant of the purpose for which their presence was desired, they were +full of conjectures. Miss Jemima received them in the dining-room, +downstairs. The first question they asked related to “Cobbler” Horn’s +health. “Was he worse?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Miss Jemima; “he is much better. But he wishes to consult you +about a matter of great importance.”</p> + +<p>Then, upon their protesting that they were in no immediate need of +refreshment, Miss Jemima conducted her visitors upstairs to her brother’s +room.</p> + +<p>Though “Cobbler” Horn had not been to sleep since the morning, he was +greatly refreshed by the quiet hours he had passed. He turned to greet +Mr. and Mrs. Burton, as they came in.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 314]</span>“This is very good of you,” he said, putting out his hand.</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima placed chairs for the visitors, and they took their seats +near the bed.</p> + +<p>“I think I must sit up,” said “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima helped him to raise himself upon his pillows, and then sat +down on a chair at the opposite side of the bed.</p> + +<p>“There now,” said “the Golden Shoemaker,” “we shall do finely. But, +Jemima, how about our friend, Tommy?”</p> + +<p>“He’ll be here directly” was the concise reply.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Burton waited patiently for “Cobbler” Horn to speak. Mrs. +Burton was a shrewd-looking, motherly body; and her husband had the +appearance of a capable and kindly man. They were both conscious of some +curiosity, and even anxiety, with regard to what “Cobbler” Horn might be +about to say. The peculiarity of the situation was that he should have +sent for them both. Perhaps each had some vague prevision of the +communication he was about to make.</p> + +<p>“Now, dear friends,” he said, at last, “no doubt you will be wondering why +I have sent for you in such a hurry.”</p> + +<p>Both Mr. Burton and his wife protested that they were always at the +service of Mr. Horn, and expressed the assurance that he would not have +sent for them without good cause.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” he said. “I think you will admit that, in this instance, the +cause is as good as can be.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 315]</span>Looking upon the kindly faces of these good Christian people, “Cobbler” +Horn wondered how they would receive the news he would probably have to +impart. He must proceed cautiously. At the same time, he was thankful that +his little lost child—if, indeed, it were so—had been committed by the +great Father to such kindly hands.</p> + +<p>“You will not mind, dear friends,” he resumed, “if I ask you one or two +questions about the circumstances under which my—Miss Owen came into your +charge when a child?”</p> + +<p>“By no means, sir!” The startling nature of the question caused no +hesitation in the reply. Indeed, though startled, these good people were +not so very much surprised. They had not, perhaps, been actually expecting +that this would prove to be the subject on which they had been summoned to +confer. But, ever since their adopted daughter had entered the household +of this man, whose own little daughter had been lost, just about the time +that she must have left her home, both Mr. and Mrs. Burton had secretly +thought that perhaps, as the result, she would find her own parent, and +they would lose their child. Perhaps it was on account of the vagueness +of this thought, or because of the painful anticipations to which it gave +rise, or for both these reasons, that the good couple had made no mention +to each other of its presence in their respective minds. They glanced at +one another now; and, by some subtle influence, each became aware that the +other’s mind had been occupied by this disturbing thought.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 316]</span>“You will believe,” said “Cobbler” Horn, “that I have good reasons for the +questions I am going to ask?”</p> + +<p>“We are sure of that, sir,” responded Mr. Burton.</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Burton.</p> + +<p>“Well, can you tell me in what year, and at what time of the year, you +found the child?”</p> + +<p>“It was on the 2nd of June, 18—” said Mrs. Burton, promptly.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn and Miss Jemima exchanged glances. It was the very year in +which, on that bright May morning, little Marian had vanished, like a +flash of departing sunshine, from their lives.</p> + +<p>“About what age would you suppose the child to have been at the time?”</p> + +<p>“She told us her age,” said Mr. Burton.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” pursued his wife, “she was a very indistinct talker, and her age +was almost the only thing we could actually make out. She said she was +five; and that was about what she looked.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think, now,” continued “Cobbler” Horn, with another glance at his +sister, “that you could give us anything like a description of the child?”</p> + +<p>“My wife can do that very well,” said Mr. Burton. “She has often told Miss +Owen what she looked like when we found her crying in the road.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mrs. Burton, “I remember exactly what she was like. She had +black hair—as she has now, and her eyes were very dark; her skin was even +browner than it is now, being so dirty; and she had very rosy cheeks. It +was evident that some of her<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 317]</span> clothes had been stolen. Indeed they were +almost all gone, and she had scarcely anything on but an old, and very +dirty shawl, which was wrapped round her body so tightly that it must have +hurt her very much. She had lost one of her shoes, and her foot was bound +up with a filthy piece of rag. She had both her socks on, but they were in +dreadful holes. She was wearing a torn sun-bonnet, which was covered with +mud; and—let me see—one of its strings was missing. And, yes, her one +shoe was cut about over the top, as if it had been done on purpose with +a knife. She had evidently been in very bad hands, poor little mite!” and +the honest, kindly face was darkened with a frown, as Mrs. Burton clenched +her plump fist in her lap.</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima had been listening with intense interest, from her position on +the other side of the bed; and now interposed with a question, in her own +quick way.</p> + +<p>“What was the pattern of the sun-bonnet? Was it a small, pink sprig, on a +white ground?”</p> + +<p>“Why, you must have seen it, ma’am!” was Mrs. Burton’s startled reply. +“That was the very thing!”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I have,” responded Miss Jemima, “and perhaps I haven’t.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burton hardly knew what to say.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she resumed, at last, “Miss Owen has kept the sun-bonnet, and the +one shoe, and two or three other little things; and I’m sure she will be +glad to let you see them. But, may I ask, Miss Horn, what——”</p> + +<p>But “Cobbler” Horn interrupted her.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 318]</span>“I think, Jemima, we had now better tell our kind friends why we are +asking these questions.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Miss Jemima; “I should have told them at first.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” resumed “Cobbler” Horn, turning to Mr. and Mrs. Burton, and +speaking with an emotion which he could no longer conceal, “we have reason +to believe that your adopted daughter—don’t let me shock you—is our +little lost Marian, of whom you have several times heard me speak; and we +are anxious to make sure if this is really the case.”</p> + +<p>In the nature of things, Mr. and Mrs. Burton were not so much surprised +as they would have been if the course of events had not, in some measure, +prepared them for the announcement which “Cobbler” Horn had now made. Yet +they experienced a slight shock; for even an expected crisis cannot be +fully realized till it actually arrives.</p> + +<p>For a moment, there was silence in the room. Then Mrs. Burton was the +first to speak.</p> + +<p>“Excuse us, dear sir,” she said calmly, “if we are somewhat startled at +what you have said. And yet we are not altogether surprised. You will not +think that strange?”</p> + +<p>“No, ma’am,” said “Cobbler” Horn, in a musing tone, “not altogether +strange, perhaps. But, shall I explain a little further? It was only last +evening that I was led to entertain the thought that Miss Owen might +actually prove to be my lost child. She was telling me, as she had done +several times before, all about how you found her, and of your goodness +to<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 319]</span> her; and she spoke last night, for the first time, of the one shoe she +was wearing when you found her in the road. Now you may judge how I was +startled, on hearing this, when I tell you that, just after Marian was +lost, we picked up one of her shoes in a field, over which she must have +wandered away. So, this morning, without telling her my reason, I asked +her to let me see the little shoe she had worn so long ago. She at once +fetched it; and here it is, and with it the one we found in the field.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he drew, from underneath the bed-clothes, the two little shoes; +and placed them side by side upon the counterpane.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Burton rose and approached the bed.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Burton, “that is undoubtedly Miss Owen’s little shoe.”</p> + +<p>“And this,” said Mrs. Burton, “is unquestionably its fellow,” and, taking +up the shoes, she held them towards her husband.</p> + +<p>“You are certainly right, my dear.”</p> + +<p>Then there was silence for a brief space, while these two simple-hearted +people bent, with deep emotion, over the little baby shoes which seemed to +prove so much.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burton was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she said, calmly, but with a quivering lip, “we are to lose our +child; but the will of the Lord be done.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Burton’s only utterance was a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>“Nay,” said “Cobbler” Horn, “if it really be as I cannot help hoping it +is, you will, perhaps, not lose<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 320]</span> so much as you think. But I am sure you +will not begrudge me the joy of finding my child.”</p> + +<p>“No, indeed, dear sir. On the contrary, we will rejoice with you as well +as we can—and with her.”</p> + +<p>These were the words of Mrs. Burton, and they received confirmation from +her husband.</p> + +<p>At this point, Tommy Dudgeon quietly entered the room, and took his seat, +at a motion from Miss Jemima, behind the chairs on which Mr. and Mrs. +Burton were sitting.</p> + +<p>“I have been anxious,” resumed “Cobbler” Horn, “thoroughly to assure +myself that there was no mistake. Here is our friend, Dudgeon, now. You +saw him the day we opened the ‘Home.’”</p> + +<p>Perceiving Tommy for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Burton gave him a hearty +greeting.</p> + +<p>“Our friend knows,” continued “Cobbler” Horn, “that I’ve been very +sceptical about the good news.”</p> + +<p>“Very much so!” said Tommy, nodding his head.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn smiled.</p> + +<p>“He was the first to find it out. You must know that he took much kind +interest in my little girl; and it was a great grief to him that she was +lost. And when your adopted daughter came to us, he was not long in +forming conjectures as to who she might be. In a very short time, as a +matter of fact, he had quite made up his mind. He tried to tell me about +it; but I was too stupid to understand him, and so it was left for me to +find out the happy truth by accident. Tell our friends, Tommy, how you +came to discover who Miss Owen really was.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 321]</span>Thus enjoined, Tommy, nothing loath, recounted once more the story of his +great discovery. Mr. and Mrs. Burton listened with deep attention, and, +having put several questions to Tommy, admitted that what he had said +afforded much confirmation to the supposition that Miss Owen was the +long-lost Marian.</p> + +<p>“I have a thought about the child’s name,” said Mrs. Burton after a brief +pause. “It comes to me that what she gave us as her name sounded quite as +much like <em>Marian Horn</em> as <em>Mary Ann Owen</em>.”</p> + +<p>“Why yes,” said Miss Jemima, “now I think of it, she used to pronounce her +name very much as though it had been something like <em>Mary Ann Owen</em>. As +well as I can remember, it was ‘Ma—an O—on.’”</p> + +<p>“I believe you are right, Jemima,” said her brother.</p> + +<p>“It must be admitted,” interposed Mr. Burton quickly, “that <em>Mary Ann +Owen</em> was a very reasonable interpretation of that combination of sounds.”</p> + +<p>“Undoubtedly it was,” assented “Cobbler” Horn.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mrs. Burton, “what you say, Miss Horn, is very much like the +way in which the child pronounced her name. And there’s another thing +which may serve as a further mark. She had on, beneath the old shawl, a +little chemise, on which were worked, in red, the letters ‘M.H.’”</p> + +<p>“I know it!” cried Miss Jemima. “I always marked her clothes like that. +You used to laugh at me, Thomas; but what do you say now?”</p> + +<p>“Well, well!” said “the Golden Shoemaker” softly.</p> + +<p>“And listen to me,” resumed Miss Jemima. “I am beginning to recollect, +too. Marian’s hair was very<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 322]</span> stubborn; and there were two or three tufts +at the back which always would stand up, like black feathers.”</p> + +<p>“I remember that very well,” said Mrs. Burton, with a smile.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” agreed her husband; “and many a joke we used to have about +it. I called her my little blackbird.”</p> + +<p>“And then,” continued Miss Jemima, “there was another thing. A few days +before the child’s disappearance, she fell down and hurt her knee; and +there were two scars, one on the knee, and another just below.”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said Mrs. Burton, “I remember those scars. Don’t you, John?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and I used to tell her she was an old soldier, and had been in the +wars.”</p> + +<p>“So you did; and—dear me, how old memories are beginning to come +back!—she talked a great deal, not only of her ‘daddy,’ but of ‘Aunt +’Mima.’ I wonder I didn’t think of that before. Perhaps, ma’am——”</p> + +<p>“That’s me!” cried Miss Jemima. “My name’s Jemima; and ‘Aunt ’Mima’ was +what she always called me. There, Thomas, do you want any further proof?”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was lying with his hands over his face, and the bed was +shaking with his convulsive efforts to repress his strong emotion. Fear +had impelled him to withstand his growing conviction that his long-lost +child had been restored to him<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 323]</span>—fear of the consequences of a mistake, +both to himself, and to the bright young girl whom he had already learnt +to love as though she were indeed his child. But now, one after another, +his doubts had been beaten down. He had listened eagerly to every word +that had been spoken around his bed, and conviction had taken absolute +possession of his mind. Yet, for the moment, the shock of his great joy +seemed almost more than his weakened nerves could bear.</p> + +<p>His friends stood around the bed, fearing for him. But, in a few moments, +he withdrew his hands from his face, which was wet with the gracious tears +of joy.</p> + +<p>He clasped his hands, and looked reverently upward.</p> + +<p>“‘My soul doth magnify the Lord; and my spirit hath rejoiced in God, my +Saviour.’”</p> + +<p>That was all.</p> + +<p>“You would like us to leave you, brother?” asked Miss Jemima.</p> + +<p>“For a very short time.”</p> + +<p>He was quite himself again.</p> + +<p>“She is out still, isn’t she?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Miss Jemima. “She will be in soon, no doubt. You would like +to see her. Well, leave that to me.”</p> + +<p>Then they left him to his blissful thoughts.</p> + +<p>For many minutes, he gratefully communed with God. He was thankful his +child had come back to him so beautiful, and clever, and good. He could<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 324]</span> +regard her with as much pride as love; though he told himself he would +have loved her, and done all in his power to make her happy, whatever she +had proved to be. And then, how glad he was that she had found her way +into his heart before he knew she was his child.</p> + +<p>Great, indeed, was the joy of “the Golden Shoemaker!” That very day he was +to clasp his long-lost child to his heart!</p> + +<p>The door of his room had been left ajar. Presently he heard the front-door +open downstairs; and then there were voices in the hall, one of which he +recognised as hers. The next moment he knew that she was coming upstairs. +They had not told her the great news yet, of course? No; she was going +direct to her own room.</p> + +<p>He took up the little shoes, which had been left lying on the bed. How +well he remembered making them! He had selected for the purpose the very +best bit of leather in his stock. He was proceeding to examine more +closely the shoe that had been mutilated, when he heard the sound of a +door being opened which he knew to be that of his young secretary’s room.</p> + +<p>Would she come to him before going downstairs? In truth, he wished not to +see her until she had been told the great news. He breathed more freely +when he heard her foot on the stairs.</p> + +<p>When “Cobbler” Horn had been alone about half an hour, Miss Jemima +returned to the room. Mrs. Burton, she said, was in the dining-room, +with——Marian.<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 325]</span> There was just the slightest hesitation in Miss Jemima’s +pronunciation of the name. Her brother’s tea would come up in a few +minutes. After he had taken it, he would perhaps be ready for the +interview he so much desired.</p> + +<p>“Tea!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but,” said his matter-of-fact sister, “you must try to take it—as a +duty.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do my best,” he said; “but I must be up and dressed before she +comes, Jemima.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jemima demurred, but ultimately agreed.</p> + +<p>“I should like Mr. Durnford to be here,” he continued, “and Tommy Dudgeon, +and Mr. and Mrs. Burton.”</p> + +<p>“They shall all be present,” said Miss Jemima.</p> + +<p>“And you, Jemima, you will take care to be in the room at the time.”</p> + +<p>“Brother,” responded the lady, “you may trust me for that.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 326]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>FATHER AND DAUGHTER.</strong></p> + + +<p>Mrs. Burton, closeted with her adopted daughter, in the dining-room, +found, to her surprise, that Miss Owen was not unprepared for the +communication she was about to receive. Since her discovery of the little +shoe—the fellow of her own—in her employer’s safe, and the startling +conclusion at which she had thereupon arrived, the young secretary had +been in a vaguely expectant state of mind. The great fact she had +discovered could not long remain concealed from the person whom, next to +herself, it most concerned. Of course, it was impossible for her to speak +out. But she had only to wait, and all would come right.</p> + +<p>She saw now why “Cobbler” Horn had been so much agitated to hear that, +when she was found by Mr. and Mrs. Burton, she was wearing only one shoe;<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 327]</span> +and she was not surprised, the next morning, when he asked to see the shoe +itself. As the day passed, she was instinctively aware that something +unusual was going on. The visit of Tommy Dudgeon; the circumstance that +she was not summoned to “Cobbler” Horn’s room as usual, during the day; +and her being unexpectedly despatched to take Susie Martin for a +drive—were all signs pointing in one direction; and when, on her return +from the drive, she was greeted with the announcement that Mrs. Burton was +waiting to see her in the dining-room, she felt sure that the great secret +was known. And she could not be much surprised, therefore, when, in the +end, Mrs. Burton proceeded to make in set terms, the communication with +which she was charged.</p> + +<p>“My dear,” said the good lady, fondly kissing her adopted daughter, “I’m +sure you will be surprised to see me.”</p> + +<p>“I’m delighted, at any rate, dear mother,” was the pardonably evasive +reply.</p> + +<p>“Not more than I am!” exclaimed the good creature. Notwithstanding the +loss she expected to sustain through the discovery which had been made, +she had schooled herself to rejoice in the happiness which had come to her +child. “But,” she added, “you, my dear, will be more delighted still, when +you hear the news I have to tell.”</p> + +<p>As she spoke, she led the young secretary to a chair, and, having caused +her to be seated, sat down on another chair by her side. Then she took her +companion’s hand and held it tenderly in her lap.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 328]</span>“My dear, I want to ask you something.”</p> + +<p>The good lady tried to be calm, but her tones grew tremulous as she spoke. +Miss Owen, too, was becoming excited, in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>“Yes, mother dear,” and the girl seemed to put special and loving emphasis +on the word “mother.”</p> + +<p>“Do you remember,” continued Mrs. Burton, “how, when you were all at Daisy +Lane, at the opening of the ‘Home,’ we were talking about Mr. Horn having +lost his little girl in some mysterious fashion; and you said, laughing, +what fun it would be, if you turned out to be that very little girl?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, mother,” was the reply, uttered in low and agitated tones, “I +remember very well.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t think that such a wonderful thing would ever come to pass, did +you, dear?” asked Mrs. Burton, gently stroking the back of the plump +little brown hand, which lay passive in her lap.</p> + +<p>“No,” replied the girl, “I certainly did not; and it was just a mad joke, +of course.”</p> + +<p>As she spoke her whole frame quivered, and she made as though she would +have withdrawn her hand and risen to her feet. Mrs. Burton tightened her +grasp upon the fluttering hand in her lap, and gently restrained the +agitated girl.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t finished yet, dear,” she said. “You know the saying that ‘many +a true word is spoken in jest’?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes——”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 329]</span>“Well—try to be calm, my child—it has been found out——”</p> + +<p>“I know what you are going to say, mother,” broke in the young girl. “It +is that I have found my father—my very own; though I can never forget the +only father I have known these years, and I haven’t found another mother, +and don’t want to.”</p> + +<p>Then the woman and the child—for she was little more—became locked in a +close embrace. After some minutes, Mrs. Burton unclasped the young arms +from her neck, and, sitting hand in hand with her adopted daughter, she +told her all the wondrous tale.</p> + +<p>“So you see, my child,” she concluded, “your name is not Owen after all; +it is not even Mary Ann.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said the girl, with a bewitching touch of scorn. “Mary Ann Owen, +forsooth! I always had my doubts. Horn is not much better in itself. But +it is my father’s name; and Marian is all that could be desired. And so I +really am that little Marian of whom I have heard so many charming things! +How sweet! But, mother, you must be the very same to me as ever; and I +must find room for two fathers now, instead of one.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my dear, I feel sure you will not love us any the less for this +great change.”</p> + +<p>“Mother, mother, never speak of that again! If it had not been for you, I +might never have come to know anything about myself, to say nothing of all +the dreadful things which might have happened. Oh, God is good!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 330]</span>“He is indeed, dear! But you will be longing to go to your father.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the girl, with a quiver of shy delight; “what does he say?”</p> + +<p>“My dear, he is thankful beyond measure.”</p> + +<p>“But can he bear to see me just yet?”</p> + +<p>“He is preparing to receive you now. Come!”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn had finished his tea, and was dressed, and sitting in an +easy-chair in his bedroom. Those about him had feared that the coming +effort would be too much for his strength. But there was no need for their +apprehension. Joy was proving a splendid tonic. He sat calm and collected, +awaiting the appearance of his child.</p> + +<p>His friends were all around him. Mr. Durnford, Tommy Dudgeon, Mr. +Burton—all were there; and there, too, was Miss Jemima, no longer grim, +but subdued almost to meekness.</p> + +<p>Then it was done in a moment. The door opened, and Mrs. Burton entered, +leading the young secretary by the hand. An instant later the girl ran +forward, with a little cry, and flung herself into the outstretched arms +of her waiting father.</p> + +<p>For some seconds they remained thus. Then she gradually slipped down upon +her knees, and let her head fall upon his breast, while her arms embraced +him still, and his hand held closely to him her nestling face. Speech was +impossible on either side. She was weeping the sweet tears of joy, while +he vainly struggled to find utterance for his love.</p> + +<p>One by one, their friends had stolen out of the<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 331]</span> room. Even Miss Jemima +had been content to go. The memory of that chastened lady was very vivid +to-night, and she felt humbled and subdued.</p> + +<p>Observing the silence, “Cobbler” Horn looked up, and perceived that they +were alone.</p> + +<p>“They have all gone, Marian,” he said, gently. “Won’t you look up, and let +father see your face?”</p> + +<p>She lifted her face, bedewed yet radiant; and he took it tenderly between +his hands.</p> + +<p>“It is indeed the face of my little Marian,” he said, fondly. “How blind I +must have been!”</p> + +<p>He gazed long and lovingly—feasting his eyes upon the brown, glowing +face, in every feature of which he could now trace so plainly those of +his little Marian of days gone by. The hope which he had never quite +relinquished was fulfilled at last! His gracious Lord had justified his +confidence, as, indeed, there had never been any reason to doubt that He +would.</p> + +<p>“You feel quite sure about it, my dear; don’t you?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, father dear,” she answered, in a thoughtful, contented tone. “There +are so many things that help to make me sure.”</p> + +<p>Then she told him of her strange feeling of familiarity with the old house +and street. She spoke of the little shoes, and of her having seen the one +in the safe. She told him what she had overheard in the tent at Daisy Lane +about her resemblance to himself.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 332]</span>“And besides,” she concluded, “after all that——mother has told me, how +can I doubt? But now, daddy—I may call you that, mayn’t I?”</p> + +<p>“The Golden Shoemaker” pressed convulsively the little hand he held.</p> + +<p>“That is what Marian—what you always called me when you were a child, my +dear. Nothing would please me better.”</p> + +<p>“Then ‘daddy’ it shall be. And now, do you know, daddy, I’m beginning +to remember things in a vague sort of way. I’m just like some one waking +up after a good sleep. Things, you know, that happened before one went +to sleep, come back by degrees at such a time; and, in the same way, +recollections are growing on me now of my childhood, and especially of the +time when I was lost. Let me see, now! I’m like some one looking into a +magic crystal to see the future, only I want to recall the past. After +thinking very hard, I’ve been able to call up some remembrance of the day +I ran away from home. I seem to remember being very angry with someone, +and wanting to get away. Then there was a woman, and a man, but chiefly +a woman, and some dark place that I was in. And I think they must have +treated me badly in some way.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn thought for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Why,” he said, “that dark place must have been the wood, on the other +side of the field where I found your shoe.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, no doubt; and wasn’t it in that wood that you picked up the string +of my sun-bonnet?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 333]</span>“To be sure it was!”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and perhaps it was there that I was stripped of my clothes. When I +fell into the hands of Mr. and Mrs. Burton, my chief garment was an old +ragged shawl. My one shoe, and my socks, and my sun-bonnet, were almost +all I had besides. I’ve kept all the things except the socks, and you must +see them by and bye, daddy.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I must.”</p> + +<p>But, having found his child, he did not greatly care just now about +anything else.</p> + +<p>Presently she spoke again.</p> + +<p>“Daddy!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Marian?”</p> + +<p>“I’m so thankful it has turned out to be you!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my dear?” responded the happy father, in a tone of enquiry.</p> + +<p>“I mean I’m glad it’s you who are my father. It might have been somebody +quite different, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he answered again, with a beaming face.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad, you know, daddy, just because you’re exactly the kind of father +I want—that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“And I also am glad that it is you, little one,” he responded. “And how +thankful we ought to be that we learnt to love one another before getting +to know who we were!”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, “it would have been queer, and——not at all nice, if +we had first been introduced to each other as father and daughter, and +told it was our duty to love one another without delay. And<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 334]</span> then there’s +another thing. Though, at first, it seemed cruel to you, daddy, that your +little girl should have been lost for so many years, when I think how much +more—very likely—we shall love one another, than we ever should have +done if I had not been lost, and how much happier we shall be together, it +seems quite kind of God to have allowed us to be separated for a little +while—especially as He found such good friends to take care of me in the +meantime.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn gently stroked the dark head, which still nestled against +his breast.</p> + +<p>“We at least, little one,” he said, “can say that ‘all things work +together for good.’ But now, there are other things that we must talk +about. You have come back, Marian, to a very different home from the one +you left. Your father was a poor man when you went away; he is a rich one +now. Are you glad?”</p> + +<p>“Oh yes, daddy,” she answered, simply, “for your sake, and because I think +my daddy is just the best man in the world to have charge of money. And +you know,” she added, archly, “that, in that respect, your daughter is +after your own heart.”</p> + +<p>“I know that well.”</p> + +<p>“You must let me help you more than ever, daddy.”</p> + +<p>She seemed scarcely to have realized the fact that she was heiress to all +his wealth.</p> + +<p>“You shall, my dear,” he said, fondly; “but you mustn’t forget that all I +have will be yours one day.”</p> + +<p>She started violently.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 335]</span>“Well now, I declare!” she gasped. “I had scarcely thought of that. I was +so glad and thankful to have found my father, that I forgot he had brought +me a fortune. Well, daddy, that won’t make any difference. We’ll still do +our best to put all this money to the right use. And, as for my being your +heiress—you must understand, sir, that you’ve got to live for ever; so +there’s an end of that.”</p> + +<p>She had withdrawn herself from his embrace, and, kneeling back, was +looking at him with dancing eyes.</p> + +<p>“Well, darling,” he said, with an indulgent smile, “we must leave that. +But there is something else that I must tell you. When I was arranging +about the disposal of all this money, in case I should be taken away, I +thought of my little Marian; and I had it set down in my will that you +were to have everything after me, if you should be found. But, beside +that, I directed the lawyers to invest for you the sum of £50,000. But, +let me see, I think I must have told you about this at the time.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you did, daddy, the very day you came back from London, just +before you went to America!”</p> + +<p>“So I did. Well, now, Marian, that money is all your own from this time.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, daddy! daddy! How shall I thank you? So I shall be able to do +something on my own account now!”</p> + +<p>Did no stray thought flit through her mind of all the gaiety and pleasure +so much money might buy? Perhaps; but she was her father’s own child.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 336]</span>After a little more loving talk, the young secretary suddenly sprang to +her feet.</p> + +<p>“I am forgetting myself sadly! The evening letters will be in.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn started. He had forgotten that she was his secretary.</p> + +<p>“I shall have to look out for another secretary, now,” he said, with a +comical air of mock dismay.</p> + +<p>“And, pray sir, why?” she demanded, standing before him in radiant +rebellion. “I would have you to know there is no vacancy.”</p> + +<p>Then she laughed in her bewitching way.</p> + +<p>“But, my dear——”</p> + +<p>“Say no more, daddy; it’s quite settled. I shall very likely ask for an +increase of salary; but there must be no talk of dismissal.”</p> + +<p>Again she laughed; and, in spite of himself, the happy father joined in +her merriment.</p> + +<p>“Well now, I must go,” she said, with a parting kiss. “I’ll send Miss +Horn—— Why, she’s my aunt! I declare I’d quite overlooked that!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my dear; and a very kind aunt you’ll find her.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure of that. But I’m afraid she’ll be thinking me a very undutiful +niece.”</p> + +<p>At this moment, the door opened, and Miss Jemima herself walked in.</p> + +<p>“I thought it was time I came,” she said, in her usual matter-of-fact way. +“You must be thinking of getting back to bed, Thomas.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 337]</span>Her niece interrupted her by throwing her arms around her neck, and giving +her a hearty kiss.</p> + +<p>“Aunt Jemima, I have to beg your pardon,” and she kissed her again; “but +you didn’t give me time, you were all off like a flock of sheep.”</p> + +<p>“I think it is my place to beg your pardon, and not yours to beg mine,” +replied Miss Jemima, in the most natural way in the world. “I fear it was +largely through me that you ran away from home.”</p> + +<p>“Did I actually run away, then?”</p> + +<p>“I think there’s little doubt of it. But, whether you ran away or not, the +fact remains that my treatment of you had been anything but kind. I meant +well, but was mistaken; and I’m thankful to have the opportunity of asking +you to forgive me.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t say another word about it, auntie!” cried Marian, kissing her once +more. “It’s literally all forgotten. And I dare say I was a troublesome +little thing. But let me see. You haven’t seen my treasures yet—except +the shoe. I’ll fetch them.”</p> + +<p>In a few moments she had brought her little sun-bonnet, and the other +relics of her childhood which she had preserved. It will not be difficult +to imagine the tender interest with which Aunt Jemima, and even “Cobbler” +Horn himself, gazed on those simple mementos of the past. The severed +bonnet-string was lying on the bed. Marian caught it up, and fitted it +upon the bonnet.</p> + +<p>“I must sew my bonnet-string on,” she said, gaily.</p> + +<p>Her father laughed indulgently, and even Aunt Jemima smiled.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 338]</span>“Ah,” she said, “and I too have a store of treasures to display,” and she +told of the little box in which she had kept the tiny garments Marian had +worn in the days of old.</p> + +<p>“How delicious?” cried the girl. “You will let me see them, by and bye, +auntie, won’t you? But now I really must be off to my letters.”</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 339]</span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>THE TRAMP’S CONFESSION.</strong></p> + + +<p>Before “the Golden Shoemaker” had returned to his bed the doctor arrived, +and despotically demanded how he had dared to leave it without the +permission of his medical man. At first the doctor prognosticated serious +consequences from what he was pleased to call his patient’s “intemperate +and unlicensed haste.” But, when he came the next day, and found “Cobbler” +Horn considerably better, instead of worse, he changed his mind.</p> + +<p>“My dear sir,” he said, “what have you been doing?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been taking a new tonic, doctor,” replied “Cobbler” Horn, with a +smile; and he told him the great news.</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” murmured the doctor; “so it has actually turned out like +that! I have often thought that there were many less likely things; and +ever since you told me how closely the young lady’s<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 340]</span> early history +resembled that of your own child, I have had a sort of expectation that +I should one day hear the announcement you have just made. Well, my dear +sir, I congratulate you both—as much on the fitness of the fact, as on +the fact itself.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn’s “new tonic” acted liked magic, and he was soon out of the +doctor’s hands. In a few days’ time he was downstairs; and at the end of a +fortnight he had resumed his ordinary routine of life.</p> + +<p>As far as outward appearances were concerned, the great discovery which +had been made produced but little difference in the house. The servants +had, indeed, been informed of the change in the position of the young +secretary. It was also understood that she was to have things pretty much +her own way. It was moreover tacitly admitted that almost unlimited +arrears of filial privilege were due to the newly-recovered daughter of +the house; and she herself evidently felt that the arrears of filial duty +lying to her charge were quite equal in amount. “The Golden Shoemaker” +regarded his new-found child with a very tender love; and even Miss Jemima +manifested towards her an indulgent, if somewhat prim, affection. The +gentle affectionateness of the girl towards both her father and her aunt +was beautiful in the extreme. Yet, even towards Miss Jemima, she was +delightfully free from constraint; and it would have been difficult to +decide whether to admire more the loving familiarity of the niece, or the +complaisancy of the aunt.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 341]</span>In the matter of the secretaryship Marian was firmness itself. “Cobbler” +Horn wished her to give it up; and Miss Jemima was shocked at the idea +that she should propose to retain it for a single day. But she dismissed +their remonstrances with a fine scorn. What did they take her for? Was +she any less fit for the post of secretary than she had been before? Her +duties had been a pleasure from the first; they would afford her greater +delight than ever now. And why should they bring in a stranger to pry into +their affairs? They might give her more salary, if they liked—and here +she laughed merrily; but she wasn’t going to give up the work she liked +more than anything else in the world.</p> + +<p>One perplexing question yet remained unsolved—What had happened to Marian +between the day when she had left home and the time when she had been +found by Mr. and Mrs. Burton? The girl’s own vague memories of that +unhappy period, together with the condition in which she had been found, +indicated that she had fallen into the hands of bad characters of some +kind. Was the mystery ever to be fully solved? To this question the course +of events brought very speedily a complete reply.</p> + +<p>One evening, about a fortnight after the last-recorded events, an elderly +tramp was sitting against a haystack upon some farm premises, at no great +distance from the town of Cottonborough. His age might be sixty, or, +allowing for the rough life he had led, something less. He looked jaded +and unwell. The day had been very warm, and the man was<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 342]</span> eating, with no +great appetite, a sumptuous supper of German sausage and bread. The +sausage had been wrapped in a piece of newspaper, which spread out upon +his knees, was now doing duty as a tablecloth. Having finished his meal, +the man lazily glanced at the paper; but finding its contents, at first, +to possess no particular interest, he was about to crumple it up and throw +it away, when his eye lighted on a paragraph which induced him to pause. +He smoothed out the paper, and raised it nearer to his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he muttered, “I ain’t much of a scholard; but I means to get to +the bottom o’ this ’ere.”</p> + +<p>With intense eagerness, he began to spell out the words of the paragraph +which had arrested his attention. It was headed, “‘The Golden Shoemaker’ +recovers his daughter, supposed to have been stolen by tramps in her +childhood.” From line to line he laboured painfully on. Many times his +progress was stayed by some formidable word; and again and again he was +interrupted by a violent cough; but at length he had ascertained the +contents of the paragraph. It contained as much as was known of the +history of Marian Horn. It told how, at the age of five, she had, as was +supposed, run away from home, and, as recently-discovered circumstances +seemed to indicate, fallen into the hands of evil persons; and how all +trace of her had then been lost until a few weeks afterwards, when, as had +now become known, she was found, a wretched little waif, upon the highway, +and adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Burton. The circumstances of her after life<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 343]</span> +were then set forth; and the narrative concluded with a glowing account of +her re-union with her friends. The tramp deeply pondered this romantic +story.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” he said to himself, “that must ha’ been the little wench as me and +the old woman took to. It was somewhere here away. I remember about the +shoe as she’d lost. They must ha’ found it. The old woman cut the other +shoe, same as it says here. It were a bad thing of us to take the kid, +that it were.”</p> + +<p>At this point the man was seized with a violent fit of coughing. When it +had subsided, he resumed his half-muttered meditations. “Well, I’m glad as +the little ’un got took care on, arter all, and has got back to her own +natural born father at last; for she were a game little wench, and no +mistake. She were a poor people’s child when we got hold on her. But I’ve +heerd tell o’ ‘the Golden Shoemaker,’ as they calls him. It must ha’ been +arter she was lost that he got his money. Well, I feels sorry, like, as we +didn’t try to find her friends. But the old gal were that onscrupulous, +she didn’t stick at nothink, she didn’t. As sure as my name’s Jake Dafty, +this ’ere’s a queer go.”</p> + +<p>Thus mused Jake, the tramp, sitting against the haystack; and his musings +were, ever and anon, disturbed by his racking cough. He felt indisposed +to move. As he brooded over the past, his mind became uneasy, he was +conscious of a vague desire to make confession of the evil he had done. +Did he<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 344]</span> feel that the sands of his life were almost sped? And was +conscience waking at last?</p> + +<p>At length, between his fits of coughing, he was overtaken by sleep. The +night was chilly after the warm day. The sun went down, and the stars +peeped out serenely upon the frowzy and wretched tramp asleep against the +haystack; and the dew settled thickly on his ragged beard and tattered +clothes. Every now and then he was shaken by his cough; but he was weary, +and remained asleep. And, in his sleep, the past came back more vividly +than it had ever re-visited him in his waking hours. He seemed to be +present at the despoiling and ill-using of a dark-eyed child, whom he +might have delivered, and did not; and, from time to time, he moved +uneasily in his sleep, and groaned aloud.</p> + +<p>Thus passed the night; and, in the morning, Jake, being found by the farm +people, in his place against the haystack, delirious, and evidently ill, +was conveyed to the workhouse.</p> + +<p>The next day “the Golden Shoemaker” received word that a man who was dying +in the workhouse begged to see him at once. “Cobbler” Horn ordered his +closed carriage, and drove to the workhouse without delay. The man, who +was Jake, the tramp, had not long to live. His delirium was over now, and +he was quite himself. His eyes were fixed eagerly upon the face of +“Cobbler” Horn, as the latter entered the room.</p> + +<p>“Are you ‘the Golden Shoemaker’?” he asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[Pg 345]</span>“So I am sometimes called,” replied “Cobbler” Horn, with a smile.</p> + +<p>“Well—I ain’t got much time—I’m the bloke wot stole your little ’un; me +and the old woman.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn uttered an exclamation of surprise.</p> + +<p>“Yes. The old woman’s gone. She died in quod. I don’t know what they had +done to her. Perhaps nothink: maybe her time was come. I warn’t that +sorry; she’d got to be a stroke too many for me. But I want to tell you +about the little ’un. I’m a going to die, and it ’ull be as well to get it +off my mind. There ain’t no mistake; cos I see’d it in the paper, and it +tallies. I’ve got it here.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he drew from beneath his pillow the crumpled piece of +newspaper on which he had read of the restoration of Marian to her father.</p> + +<p>“There,” he said, “yer can read it for yerself.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn took the paper, and glanced at its contents. He had seen +in various newspapers, if not this, several similar accounts of the +adventures of his child.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” he said, handing back to the man the greasy and crumpled paper, +“tell me about it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you knows that field where you found one of her shoes?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we wos a sitting under the hedge, near that field, one morning, +a-dining, when the kid came along. She stopped when she see’d us; and we +invited her to go along with us, and somehow she seemed as if she didn’t +like to refuse. Arter that,<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 346]</span> we took her into the wood; and the old woman +stripped off her clothes, and did her up like as she was when she was +found. She’d lost one of her shoes, and I went back for it; but I couldn’t +find it nowheres. You may be sure as we got out o’ these parts as fast as +we could. We thought as the kid ’ud be a rare help in the cadging line. +But she was that stubborn and noisy, we soon got sorry as we’d ever taken +on with her; and, if she hadn’t took herself right away, one arternoon +when we was having of our arter-dinner nap in a dry ditch, I do believe +as the old woman ’ud ha’ found some means o’ putting her on one side.”</p> + +<p>Having finished his story, the dying tramp lay still for awhile, with his +eyes closed.</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn looked down with pity upon the seamed and wrinkled face, +from which almost all expression, except that of utter weariness, seemed +to have been worn away.</p> + +<p>Presently the dying man opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>“That’s all as I has to tell, master,” he said faintly. “Do yer think, +now, as yer could find it in yer heart to forgive a cove, like? It ’ud be +none the worse for me, if yer could; nor, mayhap, for yourself neither. +I’se sorry I done it.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was deeply moved. But, as he now knew as much of what had +happened to Marian as was likely ever to come to light, he could afford to +let the matter rest; and already he found himself thinking more of the +miserable case of the dying waif before him, than of the confession the +poor<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 347]</span> creature had made. So he gave himself fully to the congenial task of +trying to bring this miserable being, into a fitting frame of mind in +which to meet the solemn change which he must so soon undergo.</p> + +<p>“I forgive you freely,” he said. “But won’t you ask pardon of God? My +forgiveness will be of little use without His.”</p> + +<p>The dying tramp looked up with a listless stare.</p> + +<p>“It’s wery good o’ yer,” he said, “to say as yer forgives me. But, as for +God, I’ve never had much to do with Him, yer see; and it ain’t likely as +He’ll mind me now. And I don’t seem to care about it a deal.”</p> + +<p>“Cobbler” Horn was troubled, but not surprised. Breathing a prayer for +Divine guidance and help, he set himself to make clear to this dark soul +the way of life. In the simplest words at his command, he strove to make +the wretched man understand and feel his need of a Saviour; and, when, at +length, he quitted the chamber of death, he had good reason to hope that +his efforts had not been altogether in vain.</p> + +<p>Marian was profoundly interested to hear of the dying tramp and the story +he had told, which latter agreed so well with her own vague remembrances, +that she joined her father and aunt in regarding it as indicating what had +been the actual course of events.</p> + +<p>Little, now, remains to be told. Father and daughter united to render the +vast wealth which God had intrusted to their charge a source of greater<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 348]</span> +and yet greater blessing to increasing multitudes of needy and suffering +people; and Aunt Jemima insisted on participating in all their generous +schemes.</p> + +<p>Marian is still secretary; but, as she receives many offers of marriage, +it is possible the post may become vacant even yet.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="center">FLETCHER AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS, NORWICH.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN SHOEMAKER***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22124-h.txt or 22124-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/1/2/22124">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/1/2/22124</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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