William Harrison Ainsworth - "Windsor Castle"

William Shakespeare - "The Winter's Tale"

Thomas Sherlock - "The Trial of the Witnessses of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ"

James Polk - "State of the Union Addresses of James Polk"

The Stokesley Secret

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> The Stokesley Secret




Sam shouted and whooped as if he were casting off a burthen, and
picking little George up in his arms, tossed him and swung him round
in the air in an ecstasy; while John and Annie and David went down on
the grass together, and tumbled and rolled one over the other like
three kittens, their legs and arms kicking about, so that it was hard
to tell whose property were the black shoes that came wriggling into
view.

Susan was quieter. She told Nurse the good news, and then laid hold
upon Baby, and carried her off into the passage to hug all to
herself. She could tell no one but Baby how very happy she was, and
how her heart had trembled at her mother's suffering, her father's
grief, and at the desolateness that had so nearly come on them. Oh,
she was very happy, very thankful; but she could not scream it out
like the others, Baby must have it all in kisses.

"Christabel," said a little voice, when all the others were gone, "I
shall never be pipy again."

"You must try to fight against it, my dear."

"Because," said Elizabeth, coming close up to her, "when dear Mamma
was so ill, it did seem so silly to mind about not having pretty
things like Ida, and the boys plaguing, and so on."

"Yes, my dear; a real trouble makes us ashamed of our little
discontents."

"I said so many times yesterday, and the day before, that I would
never mind things again, if only Mamma would get well and come home,"
said the little girl; "and I never shall."

"You will not always find it easy not to mind," said Christabel; "but
if you try hard, you will learn how to keep from showing that you
mind."

"Oh!" said Elizabeth, (and a great mouthful of an oh! it was,) "those
things are grown so silly and little now."

"You have seen them in their true light for once, my dear. And now
that you have so great cause of thankfulness to God, you feel that
your foolish frets and discontents were unthankful."

"Yes," said Bessie, her eyes cast down, as they always were when
anything of this kind was said to her, as if she did not like to meet
the look fixed on her.

"Well then, Bessie, try to make the giving up of these murmurs your
thank-offering to God. Suppose every day when you say your prayers,
you were to add something like this--" and she wrote down on a little
bit of paper, "O Thou, who hast raised up my mother from her
sickness, teach me to be a thankful and contented child, and to guard
my words and thoughts from peevishness."

"Isn't it too small to pray about?" said Elizabeth.

"Nothing is too small to pray about, my dear. Do you think this
little midge is too small for God to have made it, and given it life,
and spread that mother-of-pearl light on its wings? Do you think
yourself too small to pray? or your fault too small to pray about?"

Elizabeth cast down her eyes. She did not quite think it was a
fault, but she did not say so.

"Bessie, what was the great sin of the Israelites in the wilderness?"

The colour on her cheek showed that she knew.

"They tempted God by murmurs," said Christabel. "They tried His
patience by grumbling, when His care and blessings were all round
them, and by crying out because all was not just as they liked. Now,
dear Bessie, God has shown you what a real sorrow might be; will it
not be tempting Him to go back to complaints over what He has
ordained for you?"

"I shall net complain now; I shall not care," said Elizabeth. But
she took the little bit of paper, and Christabel trusted that she
would make use of it, knowing that in this lay her hope of cure; for
whatever she might think in this first joy of relief, her little
troubles were sure to seem quite as unbearable while they were upon
her as if she had never feared a great one.

However, nothing remarkable happened; everyone was bright and happy;
but still the influence of their past alarm subdued them enough to
make them quiet and well-behaved, both on Saturday and Sunday; and
Miss Fosbrook had never had so little trouble with them.

In consideration of this, and of the agitation and unsettled state
that had put the last week out of all common rules, she announced on
Monday morning that she would excuse all the fines, and that all the
children should have their allowance unbroken. Maybe she was moved
to this by the suspicion that these four sixpences and three
threepennies would make up the fund to the price of a "reasonable
pig;" and she thought it time that David's perseverance should be
rewarded, and room made in his mind for something beyond swine and
halfpence.

Her announcement was greeted by the girls with eager thanks, by the
boys with a tremendous "Three times three for Miss Fosbrook!" and
Bessie was so joyous, that instead of crying out against the noise,
she joined in with Susan and Annie; but they made such a ridiculous
little squeaking, that Sam laughed at them, and took to mocking their
queer thin hurrahs. Yet even this Elizabeth could bear!

David was meanwhile standing by the locker, his fingers at work as if
he were playing a tune, his lips counting away, "Ninety-two, ninety-
three, ninety-four--that's me; ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven-
-that's Jack," and so on; till having plodded up diligently, he
turned round with a little scream, "One hundred and twenty! That's
the pig!"

"What?" cried Annie.

"One hundred and twenty pence. Sukey said one hundred and twenty
pence were ten shillings. That will do it! That's the pig! Oh,
we've done it! May I take it to Purday?"

"It was to be let alone till fair-day, you little bother!" said Hal.

"No, no, no," cried many voices; "only till we had enough."

"And I am sure nobody knows if we have," added Hal hotly. "A lot of
halfpence, indeed!"

"But I know, Hal," insisted David. "There are eighty-nine pence and
one farthing in Toby Fillpot, and this makes one hundred and twenty-
two pence and one farthing."

"You'd no business to peep," said Sam.

"I didn't peep," said David indignantly. "There were forty-eight
pence at first, and then Susie had three, that was fifty-one--" And
he would have gone on like a little calculating machine, with the
entire reckoning in his head, if the others had had patience to hear;
but Annie and Johnnie were urgent to have the sum counted out before
their eyes. Hal roughly declared it was against the rules, and
little inquisitives must not have their way. But others were also
inquisitive; and Sam said it would be best to know how much they had,
that Purday might be told to look out for a pig at the price;
besides, he wanted to have it over; it was such a bore not to have
any money.

"It's not fair!" cried Henry passionately. "You don't keep the
rules! You sha'n't have my sixpence, I can tell you; and I won't--I
won't stay and see it."

"Nobody wants you," said Sam.

"I didn't know there were any rules," said the girls; but Hal was
already off.

"Hal has only put in fivepence-halfpenny," said David, "so no wonder
he is ashamed. Such a big boy, with sixpence a week! But if he
won't let us have his sixpence now--"

"Never mind, we will make it up next week," said Susan.

"Now, then, who will take Toby down?" said Miss Fosbrook, unbuttoning
one glass door, and undoing the two bolts of the second, behind which
the cup of money stood.

"Susie ought, because she is the eldest."

"Davie ought, because he is the youngest."

David stood on a chair to take Toby off his shelf. Solemn was the
face with which the little boy lifted the mug by the handle, putting
his other hand to steady the expected weight of coppers; but there
was at once a frown, a little cry of horror. Toby came up so light
in his hand, that all his great effort was thrown away, and only made
him stagger back in dismay, falling backward from the chair, and poor
Toby crashing to pieces on the floor as he fell, while out rolled--
one solitary farthing

Nobody spoke for some moments; but all stood perfectly still, staring
as hard as if they hoped the pence would be brought out by force of
looking for them.

Then David's knuckles went up into his eyes, and he burst forth in a
loud bellow. It was the first time Miss Fosbrook had heard him cry,
and she feared that he had been hurt by the fall, or cut by the
broken crockery; but he struck out with foot and fist, as if his
tears were as much anger as grief, and roared out, "I want the
halfpence for my pig."

"Sam, Sam," cried Susan, "if you have hid them for a trick, let him
have them."

"I--I play tricks NOW?" exclaimed Sam in indignation. "No, indeed!"

"Then perhaps Hal has," said Elizabeth.

"For shame, Bessie!" cried Sam.

"I only know," said Elizabeth, half in self-defence, half in fright,
"that one of you must have been at the baby-house, for I found the
doors open, and shut them up."

"And why should it be one of us?" demanded Sam; while David stopped
crying, and listened.

"Because none of the younger ones can reach to undo the doors," said
Elizabeth. "It was as much as I could do to reach the upper bolt,
though I stood upon a chair."

This was evident; for the baby-house was really an old-fashioned
bureau, and below the glass doors there was a projecting slope of
polished walnut, upon which only a fly could stand, and which was
always locked. No one whose years were less than half a score was
tall enough to get a good hold of the button, even from the highest
chair, far less to jerk down the rather stiff upper bolt.

"It cannot have been a little one, certainly," said Miss Fosbrook;
"but you should not be so ready to accuse your brothers, Bessie."

David, however, had laid hold of a hope, and getting up from the
floor, hastened out of the room, followed by John; and they were
presently heard shouting "Hal!" all over the house.

"What day was it that you found the door open, Bessie?" asked Miss
Fosbrook.

"It was just after dinner," said Elizabeth, recollecting herself.

"It was on Friday. Yes, I remember it was Friday, because I went
into the school-room to get my pencil, and I was afraid Hal would
jump out upon me, and looked in first to see whether he was going to
be tiresome; but he was gone."

"Yes," said Susan; "it was the day we found poor Jack stuck up on the
gate, when he and Hal were in disgrace. Oh, he never would have
played tricks then."

"Did you go up before me, Bessie?" asked Miss Fosbrook; "for I went
up directly after dinner to speak to Henry."

"Yes, I did," said she. "I thought if you got in first, you would be
scolding him ever so long, and would let nobody in, so I would get my
pencil first; and I slipped up before you had left the table."

Just then the two boys were heard stumping up the stairs, and ran in,
panting with haste and excitement, David with a fiery red ear.

"No, no; Hal didn't hide it!"

"But he boxed Davie's ear for thinking he did," added John; "and said
he'd do the same for spiteful Bet!"

"Then he never played tricks," said Susan.

"I told you not," said Sam.

"No," reiterated David; "and he said I'd no business to ask; and if
Bet went prying about everywhere, I'd better ask her. Have you got
it, Betty?"

"I!" cried Elizabeth. "How can you, Davie?"

"You have got a secret," exclaimed David; "and you always were cross
about Hannah Higgins's pig. You have got it to tease me! Miss
Fosbrook, make her give it back."

"Nonsense, David," said Miss Fosbrook; "Bessie is quite to be
trusted; and it is wrong to make unfounded accusations."

"Never mind, Betty," added Sam kindly; "if Davie wasn't a little
donkey, he wouldn't say such things."

"Where is Henry?" asked the governess. "Why did he not come himself?
Call him; I want to know if he observed this door being open."

"He is gone down to Mr. Carey's," said John.

"And it is high time you were there too, Sam," said Miss Fosbrook,
starting. "If you are late, beg Mr. Carey's pardon from me, and tell
him that I kept you."

Sam was obliged to run off at full speed; and the other children
stood about, still aghast and excited. Miss Fosbrook, however, told
them to take out their books. She would not do anything more till
she had had time to think, and had composed their minds and her own;
for she was exceedingly shocked, and felt herself partly in fault,
for having left the hoard in an unlocked cupboard. She feared to do
anything hastily, lest she should bring suspicion on the innocent;
and she thought all would do better if time were given for settling
down. All were disappointed at thus losing the excitement, fancying
perhaps that instant search and inquiry would hunt up the money; and
David put himself quite into a sullen fit. No, he would not turn
round, nor read, nor do anything, unless Miss Fosbrook would make
stingy Bet give up the pence.

Miss Fosbrook and Susan both tried to argue with him; but he had set
his mind upon one point so vehemently, that it was making him
absolutely stupid to everything else; and he was such a little boy
(only five years old), that his mind could hardly grasp the exceeding
unlikelihood of a girl like Elizabeth committing such a theft, either
in sport or earnest, nor understand the injury of such a suspicion.
He only knew that she had a secret--a counter secret to his pig; and
when she hotly assured him that she had never touched the money, and
Susan backed her up with, "There, she says she did not," he answered,
"She once told a story."

Elizabeth coloured deep red, and Susan cried out loudly that it was a
shame in David; then explained that it was a long long time ago, that
Hal and Bessie broke the drawing-room window by playing at ball with
little hard apples, and had not 'told, but when questioned had said,
"No;" but indeed they had been so sorry then that she knew they would
never do so again.

Again David showed that he could not enter into this, and sulkily
repeated, "She told a story."

"I will have no more of this," said Christabel resolutely. "You are
all working yourselves up into a bad spirit: and not another word
will I hear on this matter till lessons are over."

That tone was always obeyed; but lessons did not prosper; the
children were all restless and unsettled; and David, hitherto for his
age her best scholar, took no pains, and seemed absolutely stupefied.
What did he care for fines, if the chance of the pig was gone? And
he was sullenly angry with Miss Fosbrook for using no measures to
recover the money, fancied she did not care, and remembered the
foolish nursery talk about her favouring Bessie.

Once Miss Fosbrook heard a little gasping from the corner, and
looking round, saw poor Bessie crying quietly over her slate, and
trying hard to check herself. She would not have noticed her, though
longing to comfort her, if David had not cried out, "Bet is crying!
A fine!"

"No," said Miss Fosbrook; "but a fine for an ill-natured speech that
has made her cry."

"She has got the pig's money," muttered David.

"Say that again, and I shall punish you, David."

He looked her full in the face, and said it again.

She was thoroughly roused to anger, and kept her word by opening the
door of a small dark closet, and putting David in till dinner-time.

Then she and Susan both tried to soothe Bessie, by reminding her how
childish David was, how he had caught up some word that probably Hal
had flung out without meaning it, and how no one of any sense
suspected her for a moment.

"It is so ill-natured and hard," sobbed Bessie. "To think I could
steal! I think they hate me."

"Ah," said Susan, "if you only would never be cross to the boys,
Bessie, and not keep out of what they care for, they would never
think it."

"Yes, Susie is right there," said Christabel. "If you try to be one
with the others, and make common cause with them, giving up and
forbearing, they never will take such things into their heads."

"And WE don't now," said Susan cheerily. "Didn't you hear Sam say
nobody but a donkey could think it?"

"But Bessie has a secret!" said Annie.

Again stout Susan said, "For shame!"

"I'll tell you what my secret is," began Bessie.

"No," said Susan, "don't tell it, dear! We'll trust you without; and
Sam will say the same."

Bessie flung her arms round Susan's neck, as if she only now knew the
comfort of her dear good sister.

Lessons were resumed; and as soon as these were done, Miss Fosbrook
resolved on a thorough search. Some strange fit of mischief or
curiosity might have actuated some one, and the money be hidden away;
so she brought David out of his cupboard, and with Susan's help
turned out every drawer and locker in the school-room, forbidding the
others to touch or assist. They routed out queer nests of broken
curiosities, disturbed old dusty dens of rubbish, peeped behind every
row of books; but made no discovery worth mentioning, except the left
leg of Annie's last doll, the stuffing of Johnnie's ball, the tiger
out of George's Noah's ark, and the first sheet of Sam's Latin
Grammar, all stuffed together into a mouse-hole in the skirting.

At dinner Christabel forbade the subject to be mentioned, not only to
hinder quarrelsome speeches, but to prevent the loss being talked of
among the servants; since she feared that one of them must have
committed the theft, and though anxious not to put it into the
children's heads, suspected Rhoda, the little nursery-girl, who was
quite a child, and had not long been in the house.

Henry ate his dinner in haste, but could not get away till Miss
Fosbrook had called him away from the rest, and told him that if he
had been playing a trick on his little brother, it was time to put an
end to it, before any innocent person fell under suspicion.

"I--I've been playing no tricks--at least--"

"Without any AT LEAST, Henry, have you hidden the money?"

"No."

"You dined in the school-room on Friday. Were the baby-house doors
open then!"

"I--I'm sure I didn't notice."

"You didn't open them to take anything out?"

"What should I want with the things in the baby-house?"

"Did you, or did you not!"

"I--I didn't--at least--"

"In one word, did you open them? yes or no."

"No."

"What time did you go out after eating your dinner?"

"Bother! how is one to remember! It's all nonsense making such a
fuss. The children fancied they put in ever so much more than they
did, and very likely took out some."

"No; David's reckoning was accurate. I wrote down all I knew of; and
I am sure none was taken out, for early that very morning I had put
in a sixpence myself, and the cup was then full of coppers, with that
little silver threepenny of David's with the edge turned up upon the
top."

"Then you must have left the door undone!" said Henry delighted.

"I dare not be positive," said Christabel; "but I believe I remember
bolting it; and if I had not done so, it would have flown open
sooner."

"Oh, but the wind, you know."

"If the doors did open, it would not account for the loss of the
money."

"Well, I can't help it," said Henry ungraciously, trying to move off:
but she first required him to tell her what he had said to the
younger boys to make them suspect Elizabeth.

"Did I?" said Henry, "I am sure I didn't; at least, if I did, I only
said Bess peeped everywhere, and was very close. I didn't suspect
her, you know."

"I should think not!" said Miss Fosbrook indignantly. "Now please to
come up with me."

"I want to go out," said Henry.

No, she would not let him go. She thought Elizabeth ought to clear
herself, so far as it could be done, by making her secret known,
since that had drawn suspicion on her; and when all the children were
together, she called the little girl and told her so.

"It is very unkind of them," said Bessie, with trembling lip; "but
they shall see, if they want THAT to show I am not a thief!"

"I said I wouldn't see," said Susan. "You knows Bessie, I trust
you."

"And I," said Sam; "I don't care for people's secrets. I don't want
to pry into Bessie's."

No one followed their example; all either really suspected, or else
were full of curiosity, and delighted to gratify it.

Half a dozen slips of card, with poor little coloured drawings on
them, and as many lengths of penny ribbon!

"Is that all?" said Annie, much disappointed.

"So that's what Bet made such a fuss about," said John; and David's
face fell, as if he had really expected to see the lost pence.

The next thing, after the search had been made through all the
children's bed-rooms, was to go to the nursery: and thither Miss
Fosbrook allowed only Susan and Sam to follow her. Nurse Freeman was
very stiff and stately, but she had no objection to searching; and
the boy and girl began the hunt, while Miss Fosbrook meantime
cautiously asked whether Nurse were sure of Rhoda, and if she were
trustworthy.

This made Mrs. Freeman very angry; and though her words were
respectful, she showed that she was much offended at the strange lady
presuming to suspect anyone, especially one under her charge.

Miss Fosbrook wanted to have asked Rhoda whether the doors were open
or shut when she carried Henry his dinner, but Nurse would not
consent to call her. "I understood the nursery and the girl were to
be my province," she said. "If Miss Merrifield heard her mamma say
otherwise, then it is a different thing."

Susan cowered into the dark cupboard. Nurse must be in a dreadful
way to call her Miss Merrifield, instead of Missy!

Nothing more could be done. The pence could not be found. Nurse
would not let Rhoda be examined; and all that could be found out from
the children had been already elicited.

Christabel could only beg that no more should be said, and, her head
aching with perplexity, hope that some light might yet be thrown on
the matter. There must be pain and grief whenever it should be
explained; but this would be far better, even for the offender, than
the present deception: and the whole family were in a state of
irritation and distrust, that hurt their tempers, and made her
bitterly reproach herself with not having prevented temptation by
putting the hoard under lock and key.

She ordered that no more should be said about it that evening, and
made herself obeyed; but play was dull, and everything went off
heavily. The next morning, Susan came back early from her
housekeeping business, with her honest face grave and unhappy, and
finding Miss Fosbrook alone, told her she had something REALLY to say
to her if she might; and this being granted began, with the bright
look of having found a capital notion: "I'll tell you what I wish
you would do."

"Well?"

"If you would call every one in all the house, and ask them on their
word and honour if they took the pence."

"My dear, I am not the head of the house, and I have no right to do
that; besides, I do not believe it would discover it."

"What! could a thief get in from out of doors!" said Susan looking at
the window.

"Hardly that, my dear; but I am afraid a person who could steal would
not scruple to tell a falsehood, and I do not wish to cause this
additional sin."

"It is very horrid; I can't bear it," said Susan, puckering up her
face for tears. "Do you know, Miss Fosbrook, the maids are all so
angry that you said anything about Rhoda?"

"You did not mention it, my dear?"

"Oh no; nor Sam. It was Nurse herself! But they all say that you
want to take away her character; and they won't have strangers put
over them."

"Pray, Susie; don't tell me this. It can do no good."

"Oh, but PLEASE!" cried Susan. "And then Mary--I can't think how she
could--but she said that poor dear Bessie was always sly, and that
she had been at the cupboard, and had got the pence; but she was your
favourite, and so you vindicated her. And Nurse began teasing her to
confess, and tell the truth, and told her she was a wicked child
because she would not; but it was all because we were put under
strangers! I'm sure they do set on Johnnie and Davie to be cross to
her."

"When was this, my dear?"

"Last night, when we went to the nursery to be washed. It was our
night, you know. Oh! I wish Mamma was well!"

"Indeed I do my dear. And how did poor Bessie bear it!"

"She got quite white, and never said a word, even when they told her
she was sulky. But when we got into bed, and I kissed her and
cuddled her up, oh! she did cry so; I didn't know what to do. So, do
you know, I got my shawl on, and went and called Sam; and he was not
gone to sleep, and he came and sat by her, and told her that he
believed her, and knew she was as sound a heart of oak as any of us;
and we both petted her, and Sam was so nice and kind, till she went
to sleep. Then he went to the nursery, and told Nurse how horrid it
was in her; but Cook said it only made her worse, because she is
jealous of our taking part with you."

"My dear, I DO like to hear of your kindness to Bessie; but I wish
you would not mind what any of the maids say, nor talk to them about
it. It only distresses you for nothing."

"But I can't help it," said Susan.

"You could not help this attack in the nursery, but you need not talk
to Cook or Mary about it. It is of no use to vex ourselves with what
people say who don't know half a story."

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