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Дата написания1970-01-01
Язык книгиen
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зарубежная классиказарубежная старинная литература

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"Paul, do not talk any more now. Father is dreadfully worried, and has a very great deal to think of. You understand, dear. Now fasten your collar and go to your place, I hear the servants coming in to prayers." And Mrs. Anketell stooped and kissed him. "Pray God to help dear father in his troubles," she whispered, "and make us all brave to bear our share."

Paul went to his seat quietly, wondering very much what it all meant. Surely his father had plenty of courage to face anything and everything, and he knew that he himself had. As for his mother and Stella—well, mother did not need to be brave with father to take care of her, and Stella was only a girl, and no one would expect much of her; as for Michael, he was only six, a mere baby. He sat in his chair puzzled, and wondering, and coming no nearer a solution of his mother's meaning. But Paul was soon to learn it, and he never forgot the hour which followed, when the servants had left the room, and he and his father and mother were seated alone at the table.

The urn was hissing and singing, the sweet spring sunshine shone in on the silver on the table, on the bright covers, and on the big bowl of yellow daffodils on the old oak sideboard. A deep consciousness of all these details, and of the beauty of the scene, was impressed on his mind then— though at the time he was wholly unaware of the fact—and through all his after life remained with him so vividly that he could recall every detail of the scene, and the look of everything in the low, familiar room as it was that morning. He could recall, too, the unusual gravity of his parents, the anxious face of his mother, and how the tears sprang to her eyes when his father looked up and noticed her anxiety and tried to cheer her.

"Darling, you must not take it so hardly," he said tenderly; "things might be much worse. With some self-denial and economy we shall weather this storm, as we did many when first we were married." Then they smiled at each other, and Paul saw that they grew happier again at once.

"Shall I tell the boy about it now?" asked Mr. Anketell. "He must know sooner or later."

Mrs. Anketell looked at Paul for a moment with an expression on her face that he could not read, but he thought she looked sorry about something, and very, very sad; then she looked away at her husband and nodded assent.

"Paul, my son," said his father, turning to him and laying his hand gently on the boy's arm, "I want you to listen to me, and give me your whole attention. You are old enough now to be our confidant in many things, and of course you will understand that what we may confide in you we trust to your honour to respect as a confidence, and to speak about to no one."

Paul said, "Yes, father," in rather a frightened voice. He knew that it was considered 'sneakish' to tell a secret, but he had never dreamed that secrets could be such very solemn things.

"Well, my boy, we have met with a very great misfortune, and have lost a large sum of money, and from being a comparatively wealthy man, I have suddenly become a comparatively poor one. If only I myself were concerned I would not care, but for your mother's sake, and for the sake of you children, I am very much troubled and grieved. I am afraid we shall all have to give up many things, and do without many things, and save in every way we can."

Paul had grown very grave, and for a moment he sat thinking, wondering what he could do; he was very anxious to help. "Father," he cried, at last, "I know one way we can save a good bit of money every year: I can leave school, and I could go out to work. I know Farmer Vinning would give me a job; he said he wished he had a boy half as spry as I am, and— and then I could bring home my wages every week to mother." And for the moment Paul could not see what hardship people found in being economical. But his father only shook his head and laughed.

"It would be poor economy to take you away from school for a long time yet, my son," he said. Then, seeing how Paul's face fell, he went on: "The things we can do for the greatest advantage to others and ourselves, too, are not always the things we would like best to do. To be a real help and comfort to us, you must stick at your work as hard as you can, and make the best use possible of the next few years. Then you will, I hope, be able not only to help your mother, but to give them all a home if they should need one."

"But I want to help now," said Paul, dolefully. To work harder at school seemed a very poor way of saving money.

"You will be able to, dear, at once, too. We shall all have to give up something, many of the things we care for most. You can help by giving up cheerfully," said his mother.

"Oh, that's nothing," said Paul, still doleful.

"It means more than you can imagine now," she said, softly; "a trouble bravely born and smiled over is lightened for everyone of half its weight."

"Can't I give up my music;" Paul burst in on his mother's speech, too eager to notice what she was saying.

Mrs. Anketell laughed in spite of her sadness. "We are very anxious to give you all as good an education as is possible, and for the sake of the future you must not give up any of it yet. No, what we shall have to give up will be our pleasures. The horses must go, all but Nell for father, and Jumbo for the hard work. Some of the servants will have to go, too, I am afraid," she said, looking at her husband, and once more the anxious look came back to her eyes.

"I can clean boots," said Paul, "and I can wash the dog-cart."

"Very good," said Mr. Anketell, encouragingly. "You can learn to work in the garden, too. A boy of your age can give a good deal of help there."

Now, if there was one thing more than another that Paul hated, it was gardening, and his response to this suggestion was not hearty. Mrs. Anketell was silent for a few moments, then she said with, Paul thought, but little concern, "We shall have to give up the Norwegian cruise, of course, John; but that is only a trifle compared with other things."

Paul's heart seemed to leap right up into his throat, and then sank right down, down, as, it seemed to him, no one's heart could ever have sunk before. He could not believe but that there was some mistake, that his ears were deceiving him. "What did you say, mother?" he cried. "Give up the Norwegian cruise! Oh, no, no, we couldn't give that up! We must go to Norway; we can save in other ways—I'll begin at once. I won't want any new clothes for a year, and I'll go back to school without a hamper,– but we must go to Norway."

"I see you have already begun to save your neckties," said his father mischievously; but Paul was far too much upset to laugh at anything.

"Father, we must go!" he cried. "We have counted on it for weeks, and had planned everything, and—"

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