Chapter XXII: Dora Mickle's Tea-Party

ANGEL was enabled to give Dora Mickle a birthday present after all, for, knowing his little daughter's penniless condition, Mr. Willis presented her with half-a-crown as she was starting for school on Monday morning, in addition to her regular pocket-money.

"Remember, my dear," he said gravely, and Gerald, who was standing near, heard his words, "this is for yourself. There is to be no more lending. I hope you understand that?"

"Yes, father," she answered. "Thank you so much. If I am rather late home from school this morning, you will know I am in the town buying a present for Dora Mickle."

Accordingly, when Angel returned to Haresdown House to dinner, she exhibited a white and gold photograph frame, which she had purchased for her little friend.

"I asked Dinah what she thought Dora would like," she explained, "and she suggested my buying this frame, because Dora admired it the other day—it was in the shop window, you know."

"It is very pretty," Mr. Willis said. "By the way, I have had a note from Mrs. Mickle, asking you and Gerald to tea to-morrow. Am I to accept the invitation for you?"

"Oh, please, father!" both children answered in a breath.

Gerald had said nothing further about making Dora a present himself; his sister rightly guessed that he had no money, and she generously suggested that the photograph frame should be presented to Dora in his name as well as hers. But Gerald would not hear of this. He stoutly negatived the idea, refusing to entertain it for a moment.

It was a merry, happy party that assembled in the Mickles' back garden on the following afternoon to partake of tea, and strawberries and cream, not to mention other dainties, including Dora's birthday cake. The principal charm of the whole affair lay in having it out of doors. Dora, in the arbour at the far end of the garden, with her mother at her side, poured out tea, whilst the boys did the waiting, and the little girls of the party, amongst whom were several of Dora's school-fellows, sat on a long form, sheltered from the hot sunshine by a row of kidney beans. Gerald made himself very useful in assisting the Mickle boys, who had good-naturedly volunteered to help entertain their little sister's guests, thus winning Dora's approval, and doing much to obliterate the not altogether favourable opinion she had previously formed of him. She had not wanted to invite him, and Gerald little guessed that Mrs. Mickle had found some difficulty in persuading her to include him in her party, but now she was really glad she had done so.

The white and gold frame had been duly presented, and Dora had expressed herself delighted with it, and had declared her intention of putting her mother's photograph in it, and giving it a prominent position on her bedroom wall. She had received several presents, including a dark tabby Persian kitten from Dinah, which had already been named "Ruffy" by its proud mistress. Only Angel, besides the members of the Mickle household, had known that the kitten had been coming, and great had been every one's anxiety lest it should not have reached Wreyford by Dora's birthday, for it had been ordered from a breeder of Persian cats in London; but Ruffy had come several days before it had been expected, and consequently had been kept safely locked up in an outhouse until the proper time for its appearance in public had arrived. How often Dora had been on the point of discovering the secret of the outhouse! And yet she had never had the faintest suspicion why the door was locked against her, supposing the boys had done it for some reason or other. After tea the children played games, and had a thoroughly enjoyable time. Gilbert joined his mother in the arbour by-and-by. He was looking very cheerful and happy to-day, for in trying to amuse his little sister's friends he had forgotten his own grievances; indeed, it had seemed lately that his temper had improved, and he was more contented altogether. He had painted Dora a small picture of a pretty spot near the river, which she had once admired in his hearing—a mossy bank with a hawthorn tree in full bloom—and her pleasure had greatly gratified him, whilst his father had added to his happiness by declaring the sketch remarkably well done.

As he seated himself opposite to his mother on one of the benches which served as seats in the arbour, she looked at him with a smile as she said, "Tired, Gilbert?"

"A little. They're playing 'Last Touch' now, but that's not much in my line. I'm rather too much handicapped for a game of that kind."

She glanced at him in surprise, for he spoke quite cheerfully, with a touch of humour in his tone, and without his usual bitterness.

"So I thought I'd come and talk to you a bit, mother," he added, after a brief pause; "I consider I've earned a rest."

"Yes," she agreed, "I'm sure you have. I'm glad Dora consented to inviting Gerald Willis; he is very amusing, is he not? Dora did not want to ask him, because she said he 'put upon' Angel, as she expressed it; but I'm sure he seems a very nice boy."

"He would be much nicer if only Reginald Hope would let him alone."

"He is very good friends with Tom now?"

"Oh yes, and always would be if Hope did not come between them. Tom can't bear Hope, and he's always trying to get Gerald to break with him; then, naturally, Gerald thinks Tom is prejudiced against Hope."

"I see!"

Mrs. Mickle watched Gerald thoughtfully. His face was flushed with exercise, his blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and his laugh rang out merrily every now and again. He appeared the life of the party.

"It's a pity he doesn't go in for sports more at school," Gilbert remarked, following his mother's glance, "instead of spending his time loafing about with Hope and his crew. Idleness is sure to lead a fellow into mischief."

At that moment the game came to an end by mutual consent, every one being hot and tired. The little girls strolled down to the river, which flowed at the bottom of the garden, and Tom, followed by Gerald, joined Mrs. Mickle and Gilbert in the arbour.

"There's plenty of room," Mrs. Mickle said smilingly, as Gerald stood hesitating at the entrance.

She moved her skirts nearer to her as she spoke, and pointed to the space by her side, which the boy immediately appropriated, whilst Tom sat down opposite with his brother.

Conversation flowed easily. Gerald found Mrs. Mickle a very interesting companion; she appeared to know all that went on at the Grammar School, and surprised him by her acquaintance with several trivial incidents which had occurred during the term. Evidently she was the confidante of both her sons.

The following Saturday a cricket match was to take place between the first eleven of the Grammar School and an eleven from a neighbouring town. There would doubtless be a great many onlookers and Mrs. Mickle expressed her intention of being present.

"I shall expect you boys to come and talk to me, and explain how the game is going," she told them. "You'll bring Angel, won't you, Gerald?"

Gerald looked rather taken aback at this, for he had had no such intention, thinking that if he took Angel to watch the cricket match he would have to devote his time to her instead of being able to spend it with his boon companions; so he made answer that his sister did not understand the game of cricket, and he did not know if she would care about it. The truth was, he did not mean to consider or consult his sister in the matter at all.

Mrs. Mickle could not guess what was passing through his mind; she looked at him, evidently rather puzzled, then said—

"Oh, but I'm sure Angel will like to watch the match. You must bring her with you, for Dinah and Dora will be there, and—"

"Oh yes!" Gerald interposed quickly, his countenance suddenly brightening as he reflected that if the Mickle girls were amongst the onlookers he would be able to leave his sister with them, and therefore she would not be in his way at all. "Oh, yes! I dare say Angel will enjoy it!"

Gilbert and Tom exchanged amused glances at Gerald's sudden change of tone. The former remarked—

"I don't want to miss my painting lesson next Saturday, but this will be the great match of the season, and I shouldn't like to miss that either."

"You must ask Mr. Willis to excuse your absence on Saturday afternoon," Mrs. Mickle said; "perhaps he will like to see the match too."

"I dare say he will!" Gerald cried eagerly, "And Uncle Edward! He's very interested in cricket. If he and father go to watch the match they're certain to take Angel with them."

"And you will be free to do as you please," Tom exclaimed involuntarily.

There was a short, awkward pause. Gerald grew crimson with annoyance and mortification. He was very vexed with Tom for so plainly reading his thoughts, and darted an angry look at him, which was greeted with a teasing smile.

"How fast the summer term is passing!" Mrs. Mickle exclaimed presently, wisely ignoring her younger son's remark. "Why, we shall soon have the holidays here!"

"Another month before that, mother," Gilbert reminded her. "Look! Here comes father. And Mr. Willis with him."

"Father said perhaps he'd come to fetch us," Gerald explained. "I hope it is not quite time for us to go yet."

Mrs. Mickle rose, and went to meet the newcomers. The boys now joined the girls, and suggested another game, leaving the arbour for the use of their elders. Very pleasantly the remainder of the evening slipped away, and the little party broke up regretfully at last.

"Having tea out of doors is lovely," Angel remarked on her homeward way; "it's ever so much nicer than in the house isn't it, Gerald?"

"Rather!" her brother responded heartily. "I had a spider in my tea," he added, "but I didn't mind that."

Mr. Willis laughed amusedly. They were now passing Myrtle Villa, and Miss Goodwin's piping voice addressed them from the other side of the sweetbriar hedge.

"Has dear little Dora's tea-party been a success?" she asked. "You see, children, I know where you've been. I saw your father on his way to fetch you."

"It has been a very great success," Angel replied; "we have had such a happy time! I saw your present to Dora, Miss Goodwin.—It is a beautiful little pincushion made of velvet, and embroidered in silks," she explained, turning to her father.

"I embroidered it myself," the old lady said, her face beaming with smiles. "It pleased the child! I am to drink tea with the Mickles to-morrow, and Dora will show me all her treasures. Ah, Gerald, you've not been to see me for a long while. Do come in one day soon. Well, good-night, good-night."

Mr. Willis and his children passed on, whilst Miss Goodwin, who had only been waiting for them, now went into the house.

"What a dear old soul she is," Angel said; "the Mickles are all so fond of her. Dora wanted to invite her to the tea-party to-day, but Mrs. Mickle thought it would be too much excitement for her."

"I should think so," Mr. Willis replied; "you were rather noisy. Poor Miss Goodwin would have been quite bewildered if she had heard your tongues chattering."

As they neared their destination they were startled by the cries of a dog, evidently in pain, and a minute later came upon a scene which made Angel's tender heart throb with mingled indignation and pity. A big boy was holding a poor little terrier by the collar, and beating it most unmercifully with a great stick.

The next moment Mr. Willis had sprung to the rescue, and wrenched the weapon from the boy's hand, and smashed it in two pieces, which he flung into the hedge.

"You coward!" he exclaimed, clutching the boy by the collar and shaking him, whilst the dog, suddenly released, ran howling piteously down the road in the direction of the town. "How would you like to be thrashed as—"

He paused in intense astonishment as he recognized the scared face the boy turned towards him.

It was Reginald Hope. He had been fishing in the clay pits, and had, on his way home, encountered a favourite dog of his father's. The little animal, overjoyed at the meeting, had jumped against his young master, and had unfortunately knocked the pickle bottle he had been carrying, and which had contained a few prettily marked fish, out of his hand. Enraged beyond measure, Reginald had cut a stick from the hedge with his pocket-knife, and seizing the dog, was giving it a heavy thrashing when he was suddenly stopped by Mr. Willis.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Reginald cried, wriggling to get free in vain.

"Not till I've had a few words with you," Mr. Willis replied firmly. "Wicked boy, to thrash a poor dog so cruelly!"

"Aggravating beast!" Reginald exclaimed vindictively. "Look at that smashed bottle, and those fish which I had trouble enough to catch! The dog belongs to us, and I can do as I like to it. Let me go, Mr. Willis."

But Mr. Willis would not do that until he had reproved him sharply for the cruelty and cowardice of his behaviour; and Reginald was obliged to listen to him, whilst Angel and Gerald stood by, the former as indignant as her father, and the latter no less so really, though he was afraid to show what he felt.

"I hope you will never treat any animal so viciously again," Mr. Willis said in conclusion. "I am sure your father would be pained if he knew how you had served his pet."

"You will not tell him?" Reginald cried involuntarily.

"Not if you will promise never to thrash the dog so cruelly again."

"Oh, I promise that."

"Very well. I hope you will keep your word. Now I will let you go."

Mr. Willis released his hold of the boy, who picked up his fishing-rod, which he had flung on one side, and, without even glancing at Gerald, hurried away. The children and their father looked after him as he slunk down the road, the latter's countenance very grave.

"Oh, Gerald!" cried Angel, "how can you be friendly with a boy like that? How dreadfully he thrashed that poor dog! He must be very, very hard-hearted!"

"Perhaps he didn't mean to hurt it," Gerald replied, feeling he was called upon to make some sort of excuse for his friend.

"What nonsense, Gerald!" exclaimed his father sharply. "He did mean to hurt it! Children are often cruel when they are very young, because they do not understand the nature of pain; but Reginald Hope is a big boy, and he knew quite well the agony he was inflicting. Come, let us get home."

Mr. Willis looked upset. Cruelty to even the least of God's creatures was intolerable to him. When they reached the entrance to the grounds of Haresdown House, he paused and addressed Gerald again—

"My boy," he said gravely, "I shall put an end to your friendship with young Hope."

"Father!" Gerald burst forth in dismay, "you don't mean it?"

"I don't require you to break with him altogether," Mr. Willis proceeded to explain, "or say you are not to speak to him, but I forbid you to spend your spare time with him as you have done hitherto. Surely there are boys at the Grammar School more fitting to be your companions than Reginald Hope? I cannot imagine my son on a level with him. We should be careful in our choice of friends, remembering they are bound to influence us for good or evil. You need not avoid young Hope altogether, but I cannot allow you to be his constant companion."

Gerald made no response. He knew how difficult it would be for him to break off this friendship, and he foresaw much unpleasantness for himself if he did so. He shivered with apprehension as he remembered his indebtedness to Reginald Hope; if only he had not owed him money he would have gladly obeyed his father, and dissolved his connexion with him altogether. Poor Gerald's thoughts were very uneasy during the rest of the evening. He had enjoyed Dora Mickle's tea-party as much as any one, but, as generally happened now when he had forgotten his worries for the time, Reginald Hope had crossed his path, and the mere sight of him had been sufficient to remind him of the reality of them.