En the Wind and the Rain.

Hawke's Bay Times, Issue 1547, 3 February 1874, Page 101

En the Wind and the Rain.

Fbom the Quiver. (Concluded.) During tea-time Maggie's father and Peter Morrison and the boys all talked of nothing else but the missing bag. _ "We will be out after tea looking all over the roads," announced Sandy and Tammy. " And do you think that it is you two creatures that are to find such a thing as this?" said Maggie —"ten shillings and everything!—such alike thing was never before heard of." " Let them go, poor boys," said their father; " not that it is likely they will find it, but the searching will do them no harm. Now, Peter," he continued, " it's time you and I were off and away ; the clouds are glowering over the hill yonder, and I am not pleased with the way that the wind is changing. Now, boys, mind your sister and do your duty; do not be playing daft-like tricks, mind you that. I'm off, Maggie, lass; look after the wean and the house, be wise, and do your duty." " That is what father is always saying; the one thing with him is, 'do you duty '—just do your duty," thought Maggie, as she stood at the door watching the two men descending the hillpath to the sea. Shortly afterwards the two boys rushed noisily by, headlong clown the hill, in search of the leather bag. And then Maggie had to attend to all her duties, and considering the size of the house, her duties were many and ceaseless; she never could afford one moment's idleness, and she had become so accustomed to performing all that there was to be done, that it was all a habit, and she never thought that it was a great deal for her small shoulders to bear. Her happy, merry nature brought her easily and pleasantly through all her duties, and by the time that the baby Was asleep and the house tidy, she became aware that it was getting quite dark, and,the wind was blowing noisily outside the house, and Sandy and Tammy had not returned. She opened the outer door and walked out into the dark and listened, whilst the wind, blew the red hair about her face and pushed her along the path. By-and-by she heard voices not far before her, and in another moment Sandy and Tammy came up to her, evidently footsore and weary. " What keeps you two out like this ?" demanded Maggie in an authoritative tone; "do you know that it is ten o'clock and dark ?" We were looking for the bag; but we think it's just a make-up from beginning to end. There is no bag about the roads; and Tammy has cut his foot again. I will not go out with him any more," announced Sandy, " for he is never content until he has cut his foot, and he is just a trouble to me." " And did you two gentlemen think you were to find the bag ?—go you away to your beds, and don't let me hear any more about bags." As they walked up to the cottage the first drops of rain beat in their faces, and from this moment it came down heavily, and Sandy and Tammy, and everybody in the house went to bed. But the baby woke up with a yell, and Maggie did her best to send him off to sleep again ; and whilst she walked up and down the kitchen with him, the Wind and the rain beat against the little Window, *,., ~

" Father said lie wanted me to go down and see if the light on the rocks was safe, if the wind and the rain came on/' she said to herself, as she again laid the baby in his bed; " but it is a terrible night to be out, and surely there will be no need, father is so very careful about fixing it; surely I need not go out to-night." She thought about it for some time, and then undressed and got into' bed. She had almost fallen asleep when the striking of the clock woke her completely —twelve o'clock. There was the wind and the, rain again ; then Maggie sat up and listened, and thought over and over again : clearly it was her duty to get up and dress herself, and go alone, out into the dark night and the wind and the rain, and, in all probability, on a useless errand, for Maggie had often before performed this very office, and always had found the light burning steadily and securely in its niche in the rocks.

Ah, well, it would be better to go perhaps; and with a sigh, which was all pity for herself, she rose and dressed herself, and lighting the bit of candle in an odd little swinging ship's lantern, she drew an old homespun plaid about her shoulders and red head, and went barefooted on her way. There was a short cut through the birch-trees, which her father had made for use when he was hurried, and thinking that under the trees she would find shelter from the wind and the rain, she hurried down the rough little path, screwing up her face and bending her head in the storm.

She had got accustomed to its roughness by the time that she arrived at the black cove and the rocks under the wood. On turning round a great rock a tiny spot of light met her eyes, glaring at her and everything else. There was the light, safe and bright, and she went up to it to see that it was quite firm and dry. All was well, and then she said, " I knew that father would place it safely, and I have had all this journey in the wind and rain for nothing. Never mind," and the usual bright, contented light came back to her eyes, " I am glad I have done my duty, as father says, at all events." And over the wall she went, and would have been swallowed up in the darkness but for her little swinging ship's lantern, which showed her the rough little path worn by her father's constant footsteps to and from home to the sea. By-and-bye her foot slipped on something strange, something that was not cold and wet like the moss and stones, and hastily she turned and with her little lantern peered somewhat curiously on to the path. There lay a small brown object with a round leather handle. Quick as thought active little Maggie picked it up and looked at it. All at once like lightning an idea flashed across her. " Could this be the bag ?' —could such an unheard-of piece of piece of good fortune have happened to her, as that she should have found it ? One thing was certain, at any rate, it was a leather bag, and she had found it. And without pausing to think of the hour, or anything else, Maggie turned back, passed out of the wood, and followed the road down to the village, bound for the post-office. She wondered how she could possibly have missed it on her way down to the .shore, but she recollected, if she had 'not stepped on it now, she should have passed it unheeded by. Her father, too, had gone down to the shore that evening by the other path, and very few people but themselves ever entered that wood. At the post-office door, Maggie's usual vigor and energy did not fail her, and she hammered and knocked, and knocked and hammered until, after a very long time, some one unfastened the door, saying as they did so, " Who is there, making that noise ? " When the door was opened, there was only a very small figure with a lantern to be seen, holding out a brown leather bag. " Please," said a voice, " is this the bag that is lost?" " Bless me ! —bag; who are you ?" was said, and the bag was received by somebody's hands; and then Maggie stood quite still, while a great deal of talk and fuss were going on inside, and then Maggie was asked if she had found it, and how and when. And then Maggie, with the shawl about her head, and still standing outside in the wind and the rain, swinging her odd little lantern, told all about it, and ended by asking, in her turn, whether it was the right bag after all. " Yes; did you not open it ?" " No," said Maggie, aghast. " Well—well," said somebody, " ten shillings reward was offered for it, and perhaps you will like to have the money;" and something was held out. Maggie's little disengaged paw was held out and something transferred to it, and the door was shut in her face. For one moment she stood still, and then, by the light of the lantern, she looked into her hand. There lay something golden and solid, and then she bounded off, the two bare feet more like india rubber balls than ever. " What will I do with it ? what will I do with it ?" she repeated all along the road. When she was just getting over the wall which led into the wood, she saw a bright light coming along the path from the black cove, '

"That's father," thought Maggie; "I'll wait for him." In a few moments her father joined her. " Well, lass," he said, " are you not home yet ? were you down looking after the light ?" "Yes, father; but it was all safe—l knew it would be. Did you get many fish?" " No, very few; the nets are getting too old; but it costs a terrible lot to buy new ones. But what makes you so late, Maggie?" And then, with a great deal of pride and delight, Maggie told her story, and her father's congratulations were as hearty as even Maggie could have wished. " See, now," said he, " what you've got, and all this comes of doing your duty ; if you had been sleeping, like Sandy and Tammy, you would never have found the bag. Now those boys are such wild, daft-like creatures that I could not have asked them to be down seeing after the light, it would have been useless." "Well, father, the boys are very good, but they're young yet,", said Maggie, with a certain small mo'therliness in her tone ; " by-and-bye you'll see the helps they'll be to you with the fishing." " Well—well, maybe. What will you do with your ten shillings, Maggifl ? " ." Ido not know, father." And they entered the silent cottage, where the children were sleeping. The next morning, when her father was mending his nets, Maggie told him that she had made up her mind that the ten shillings should go towards some new nets, and although her father at first demurred, he was at length only too glad to give in. Then Maggie tucked her red hair tightly behind her ears, and tied on the apron, which was too long for her, sang to herself, and kept time with the active bare feet, witli a lighter heart than ever, as she washed the potatoes.