Part 15 (1/2)

”We should be proud if the old doctor'd look at what we're doing,” said Jesse. ”And there's several things I'd like to ask about. Some of the boys don't take to the carving, but they're that quick at drawin' things to do, or fancy-like patterns that couldn't be done in wood, but'd make beautiful soft things--couldn't they be taught better? And Barney says he's heard tell of bra.s.s work. I've never seen it, but he says it's done at some of the Inst.i.tutes, Whittingham way, and he'd like that better than wood work.”

He stopped, half out of breath with the rush of ideas that were taking shape in his mind.

”I know what you mean,” said Miss Lilly. ”I have seen it. I think it is an ancient art revived again. Yes, I don't see why it would not be possible to get teaching in it. And then there's basket work, that is another thing that can be quite done at home, and very pretty things can be made in it. It might suit some of the lads who are not much good at carving.”

”Them moss baskets of Master Ferdy's are right-down pretty,” said Jesse.

”And you can twist withies about, beautiful.”

His eyes sparkled--his ideas came much quicker than his power of putting them into words.

”There's no want of pretty things to copy,” he said after a little silence.

”No indeed,” said Miss Lilly.

But at that moment the door opened to admit Mr. Brock. A start of surprise came over the wood-carver as he caught sight of the table covered with Jesse's exhibition. And then it had all to be explained to him, in his turn. He was interested and pleased, but scarcely in the same way as Eva and Ferdy.

”We must look them all over,” he said, ”and carefully separate any work that gives signs of taste or talent. It is no use encouraging lads who have neither.”

Jesse's face fell. He had somehow known that Mr. Brock would not feel quite as his other friends did about his ”pupils.”

”Yes,” said Miss Lilly, ”it will no doubt be a good thing to cla.s.sify the work to some extent. But I would not discourage _any_, Mr. Brock.

Taste may grow, if not talent; and if there are only one or two boys with skill enough to do real work, surely the pleasure and interest of making _something_ in their idle hours must be good for all?”

The wood-carver smiled indulgently. He thought the young lady rather fanciful, but still he could go along with her to a certain extent.

”Well, yes,” he agreed. ”At worst it is harmless. When the doctor returns, Miss Lilly, we must talk it all over with him; I am anxious to consult him about--” he glanced in Jesse's direction meaningly, without the boy's noticing it. For Jesse and Ferdy were eagerly picking out for their teacher's approval some of the bits of carving which their own instinct had already told them showed promise of better things.

CHAPTER X

TAKING REFUGE

It was a Sat.u.r.day afternoon.

Ferdy, as he lay on his couch in the oriel window, looked out half sadly. The lawn and garden-paths below were thickly strewn with fallen leaves, for the summer was gone--the long beautiful summer which had seemed as if it were going to stay ”for always.” And the autumn was already old enough to make one feel that winter had started on its journey southwards from the icy lands which are its real home.

There were no swallow voices to be heard.

Oh no; the last of the little tenants of the nests overhead had said good-bye several weeks ago now. Ferdy's fancy had often followed them in their strange mysterious journey across the sea.

”I wonder,” he thought, ”if they really _were_ rather sorry to go this year--sorrier than usual, because of me.”

He took up a bit of carving that he had been working at; it was meant to be a small frame for a photograph of Chrissie, and he hoped to get it finished in time for his mother's birthday. It was very pretty, for he had made great progress in the last few months. In and out round the frame twined the foliage he had copied from the real leaves surrounding his dear window, and up in one corner was his pet idea--a swallow's head, ”face,” Ferdy called it, peeping out from an imaginary nest behind. This head was as yet far from completed, and he almost dreaded to work at it, so afraid was he of spoiling it. To-day he had given it a few touches which pleased him, and he took it up, half meaning to do a little more to it, but he was feeling tired, and laid it down again and went back to his own thoughts, as his blue eyes gazed up dreamily into the grey, somewhat stormy-looking autumn sky.

Some changes had come in the last few months. Dr. Lilly was at home again, so Ferdy and Christine no longer had entire possession of their dear governess, though they still saw her every day except Sunday, and sometimes even then too. Ferdy was, on the whole, a little stronger, though less well than when able to be out for several hours together in the open air. What the doctors now thought as to the chances of his ever getting quite well, he did not know; he had left off asking. Children live much in the present, or if not quite that, in a future which is made by their own thoughts and feelings in the present. And he had grown accustomed to his life, and to putting far before him, mistily, the picture of the day when he _would_ be ”all right again.” He had not really given up the hope of it, though his mother sometimes thought he had.

The truth was that as yet the doctors did not know and could not say.

But the present had many interests and much happiness in it for Ferdy, little as he would have been able to believe this, had he foreseen all he was to be deprived of in a moment that sad May morning.

His friends.h.i.+p for Jesse was one of the things he got a great deal from.