Chapter IV

MRS. MARLAND came early the next morning to see Ben's mother. The sick woman had slept well, having had some good beef-tea for her supper, and she seemed upon the whole something better than she had been the day before. She felt very happy about Ben, and every one knows that the mind has a great deal to do with the sickness or health of the body. Mrs. Marland gave her the remaining three shillings out of the lady's present, and promised to come and see her again very soon.

We may do good to our fellow-creatures without being rich. Mrs. Marland was not at all rich, and her husband worked hard as master of the schools. But they had both of them benevolent hearts, and did much real good in the world. A few words of kind and friendly sympathy spoken beside the bed of sickness is often a source of the greatest comfort.

Mrs. Holt felt that she was no longer desolate and friendless in the world. And she thanked God with a grateful heart that He had heard her prayer, and had raised up friends for her in her hour of weakness.

As Ben was leaving White Horse Alley that morning on his way to school, Tom Wade sprang out from the doorway of the house where he lived, and seized Ben by the collar. There was a wild frightened look in Tom's face.

"Did you tell of me?" he said, in a hurried voice.

"I'm no tell-tale, Tom."

"Do you mean to say you never said a word about me in the matter?"

"I had nothing to say, Tom; I only wanted to give back the half-sovereign, for fear I should be tempted to keep what was not my own."

"Then you're a good fellow, Ben, and know how to return good for evil, and I'll never tease you again."

Tom turned away with a softened voice, brushing the torn sleeve of his jacket across his eyes as he spoke.

"You'll come to school, Tom?" said Ben, kindly.

"Yes; I was afraid to come until I had spoken to you."

And for the first time in their lives, Ben Holt and Tom Wade walked to school together.

"How's your mother, Ben?"

"She's a little better this morning, Tom, thank you. A lady sent her some money yesterday afternoon, and she has good nourishing food now." Tears were in Ben's eyes as he spoke, but they were tears of happiness and thankfulness.

"How fond you seem of your mother, Ben," said Tom Wade.

"Fond, so I ought to be; I owe everything to her: Why, if it hadn't been for the good lessons she taught me, I should now have been a—"

Ben hesitated, he thought what he was going to say might seem unkind to Tom.

"I know what you meant to say, Ben, and perhaps I should have been a different boy if I had got a mother like yours."

In the course of the morning, whilst all the boys were assembled in the school, a lady entered the room, and approached Mr. Marland's desk. Ben immediately recognized her as the same lady who had been there the previous day.

"I lost an old gold coin yesterday," she said, "and thought it just possible I might have dropped it whilst here. It was a half-guinea piece, and I have had it in my possession ever since I was a very little girl. It was given me by my great-grandmother, who had kept it all her life, and I would not have lost it for twenty times its value."

Mr. Marland, with a smile, produced the half-guinea from his pocket.

"That is it," said the lady, in a tone of delight; "and now tell me where it was found, and who found it?"

"This boy found it," said the master, putting his hand on Ben's shoulder.

"He's an honest little fellow," replied the lady. "Are his friends well to do?"

"No, ma'am," said Mr. Marland. "He has no father, and his mother is ill, and they are very poor."

"You are an honest boy," said the lady, looking kindly at Ben; "you shall have a real half-sovereign as a reward. And you will have something else, my boy, that will prove of more value to you during life than many, many half-sovereigns, and that is 'a good name.'"

The lady then spoke a few earnest words to all the boys assembled there, impressing upon them the importance of early acquiring a character for honesty. "But like all other good things, children," she added, "the power to gain a good name must come to us from God. Remember, 'Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights.'"

She then gave Ben a bright new half-sovereign, and told him if he went on as he had already done, he would make himself respected, however poor he might be.

Ben thanked the lady, and thought within himself how different would have been his feelings when hearing the inquiries about the half-guinea that morning, had he acted dishonestly in the matter, and not taken the money to the master.

Tom Wade turned pale whilst the lady was there. His conscience told him how narrowly he had escaped being punished as a thief, and that his sin was just as great as if he had really succeeded in taking the money from Ben. As no one, however, but Ben knew anything about Tom's behaviour, no one but him took notice of Tom's change of colour.

When the class was over, Tom Wade drew Ben aside into a corner of the room, and whispered to him—"You were right, Ben, and I was wrong; I will take your advice another time."

Ben scarcely knew how he reached home after school, he ran so fast.

"Mother, dear mother, now you will get strong and well." And he showed her his bright new half-sovereign.

Mrs. Holt "did" get stronger and better from that day. Relieved from all immediate dread of having to give up her poor though valued home, the compulsory rest from work was of real service to her. And as she had good and strengthening food, in little more than a week, she was able to sit up.

The lady who had sent her the five shillings came to see her very frequently, and brought her many nourishing things to tempt her appetite. More than that, one fine bright morning, when the doctor said Mrs. Holt was sufficiently strong to bear the fatigue, the lady sent a cab to take Ben and his mother for a drive in the Regent's Park, thinking that the change of air from White Horse Alley would do Mrs. Holt more good than anything else.

Ben had never been so long a "journey," as he called it, in his life before, and was delighted with the green trees and the grass, and made his mother smile by asking her whether she thought they should see any silver-winged doves there.

In a short time, Mrs. Holt was able to resume her needlework. The lady sent her some shirts to make, and as she paid a much better price than the employer at the shop, Mrs. Holt was able to earn as much, without working quite so hard.

At length, winter came on. Winter is always a bad time even for the most prosperous of the poor; for provisions are generally dearer, and coals and candles are a great expense. Mrs. Holt's kind friend, too, had gone abroad, so that there was nothing to be done but to work again for the shop. They were always glad to employ her, as she was a good needlewoman.

Just as the cold weather set in, poor Ben fell ill with the measles. He was not naturally a strong boy, and the disease settled upon his chest, and made his mother, for some time, fear for her son's life. He kept his bed for many weeks. And when at last, the worst was over, and he was able to sit up for half-an-hour in his mother's arm chair, he was so weak and thin that he appeared quite changed in appearance.

Ben had been very patient during his long illness, and though a tear made its appearance when he found how far he was yet from being strong and well again, he wiped it away and smiled,—a rather "watery" smile, it is true, but "still" a "smile,"—at his mother as she bent over him.

It was now the sweet spring-time, and the sun shone even into White Horse Alley, and into the little room where Ben and his mother lived. The little boy, still very weak and pale, often sat in his chair with his book of pictures in his hands, and longed more than ever to go into the country. He knew it was of no use wishing, and that his mother could not afford to send him. But still, he longed on, and to his mother's eyes, seemed getting thinner and paler every day.

"I tell you what I have been thinking of, Ben," said she to him one evening. "I have a plan for you to write home, on chance like, just to see if brother Will still lives there, and then I would ask him at once to take you for a month or so. That would soon set you up, and I do not think anything else will."

The very thoughts of writing a letter seemed to do Ben good. It was some new subject to think about, some change from the one thought which had been so long uppermost in his mind.

"When will you get me some paper and a pen, mother?"

"When I take my work home this evening, Ben."

The writing of that letter was a great event in Ben's life. His mother had bought six sheets of paper for a penny, and two envelopes and some steel pens for another. And then Ben set about the task. It was a great labour to him, for he was a good deal out of practice from his long illness.

Nevertheless, at last it was completed to his mother's entire satisfaction. Indeed, she regarded it as a wonderful performance, and almost regretted having to send it away.

About a week after it had been sent off, there came a kind answer. Brother Will was alive and well, and was comfortably off in the world. He had an industrious wife, three rosy-faced children (Mrs. Holt sighed as she read this to think of Ben's pale cheeks), and what was more curious than all, he and his family lived in the little cottage by the wood-side. He told his sister how glad he was to hear of her again, and that he and his wife would take the best care of little Ben, and would soon put some colour into his cheeks. He had a friend, he said, who was guard on the railway, and who would look after Ben on his journey; he also sent his sister five shillings to help pay the fare.

When Ben found that at last he was really going into the country, and that he would ride in hay-carts, gather primroses, and live in the little cottage by the wood, which he had so often longed to see, the very thought of all this happiness seemed to do him good. It was almost too good to be true. But when he saw his mother really beginning to get his things ready to go, he began to think it must be a reality, and his eyes grew brighter as the time drew near.

At length, one fine morning at the end of April, a poorly dressed but decent-looking woman, carrying a large bundle, and leading a young boy by the hand, were threading their way through the crowd. They were Ben and his mother on their way to the railway station: Ben did not look very bright and cheerful this morning, for when it came to the last, he did not like parting from his mother, and she had to cheer him up as much as she could, although she too felt sad at losing her dear little companion.

There was a great deal of noise and confusion at the railway station, for it was a long train which was just about to start, and the people pushed poor Ben about so much that he almost wished himself home again.

At last, Mrs. Holt found the guard whom her brother had mentioned, and then all was right. He seemed a very good-natured man, spoke kindly to Ben, told his mother he would take good care of her son, and then put him into a carriage, telling Mrs. Holt she might remain in the carriage until the great bell rang. It very soon did so, and then the guard came to fasten the door. Ben and his mother took one farewell kiss, the guard thrust a currant bun into his hand, telling him to be "a man," and not to cry. And poor Mrs. Holt turned away from the platform, hiding her tearful face in a corner of her old shawl. Then the great train was out of sight in a few seconds.

For the first half-hour there was no one in the carriage with Ben. But at the end of that time, they stopped at another station, where a great many people were waiting for the train to come up. The door of the carriage in which Ben was sitting was opened, and a lady with several children got in. The guard was in a great hurry, and kept saying, "Come, make haste, ma'am, make haste, miss." And the children, whose hands were full of parcels and books, dropped several of them on the floor of the carriage as they were getting in, and seemed in a great fright and bustle. Ben good-naturedly stooped down to pick up some of the parcels which had fallen, and the lady thanked Ben for his help.

Ben had been taught by his mother always to answer properly when spoken to, and without being at all forward or bold in his manners, he had none of that shy awkward way which many boys have. The lady seemed pleased with his manners, and asked him many questions as to the place where he was going. Ben had forgotten the name of the station at which he was to stop, but he told the lady that the guard knew all about it, and was to take care of him. He likewise said that he was going to stay with his uncle, William Hunt, in the little cottage by the wood-side.

The next time the train stopped and the guard came and looked in at the window to see how Ben got on, the lady asked him how far the boy was going, and found he was to get out at the same station as herself. She was very kind to Ben all day long. Her children had plenty of biscuits and sandwiches to eat on the journey, and they gave some to Ben, and also lent him a pretty story-book with pictures with which to amuse himself.

Ben's great delight at all he saw interested them much, and learning that this was the first time he had over been out of London, they pointed out to him everything they thought would interest him.

In two or three hours' time, they came in sight of the sea. And then Ben, who had never seen a larger extent of water than the River Thames at London Bridge, could scarcely express his surprise and pleasure. Far away, as far as the eye could reach, stretched the blue sea; several fine ships in full sail were in sight, and one or two large war steamers. Ben was astonished when the lady told him that so many as seven or eight hundred men were on board one of those vessels.

They soon passed Portsmouth, one of the most strongly-fortified places in England. And the lady pointed out to her children the flagship, called the "Victory" on board of which Admiral Nelson was killed at the battle of Trafalgar, in 1805. This ship is kept in fine preservation, and the spot on the deck where the admiral fell is marked by a brass tablet, on which are engraved the words which Nelson addressed to his soon before the battle:—

"England expects every man to do his duty."

The fatigue of the journey, for the day was very hot, and the excitement of seeing so many novel things, exhausted Ben's small stock of strength, and, as the days wore on, he grew very tired. Then the lady and her children made him lie down on one of the seats, and gave him a travelling-bag for a pillow. Ben slept soundly during the remainder of the journey. About five o'clock, they stopped at a station, and amongst the people who were waiting there was a stout countryman, in a light spring cart, in which were also seated three little boys with ruddy faces.

"Have you a little boy named Ben Holt?" asked the countryman of the guard.

"All right, here he is."

Then he went to the carriage, where Ben was still fast asleep, and, lifting him out, gave him, together with his bundle, into the care of the countryman, who was Ben's uncle. Ben was half awake and half asleep, and was somewhat startled.

"Don't be afraid, my little man; come along, here are your three cousins to meet you—" And so saying, his uncle lifted him into the spring cart without much trouble.

Ben stared at his cousins, and his cousins stared at him. He was so thin, and they were so stout; they were so rosy, and he so pale. The contrast seemed to strike them all, and they did nothing, for some moments, but look at each other.

Ben was the first to break silence. He did so by asking the stoutest little boy, by whose side he sat, whether he had ever been in a hay-cart. A loud burst of laughter was the only answer Ben received. And when his uncle, who was driving, turned round to inquire the cause of their merriment, the three cousins exclaimed,—"Father, Ben wants to know whether we have ever been in a hay-cart!"

"That they have, my little man, and so shall you before you are many weeks older."

By this time, they had got quite away from the station, and were driving along a beautiful green lane. The trees, with their fresh young green leaves, the hedge banks gay with primroses and violets, the fields yellow with buttercups, the young lambs frisking about, the happy birds singing—it was a beautiful scene, and Ben's heart overflowed with joyful feelings. He felt all that the writer so beautifully expresses in the well-known hymn—

"Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ;
Nor is the least a grateful heart,
That tastes those gifts with joy."

The cart stopped at a pretty cottage by the wood-side, the garden was full of gay flowers. A kind, motherly woman lifted Ben from his seat, and he felt as if there was nothing more in the world for him to wish for.