FICTION IN BRIEF.

Temuka Leader, Issue 2464, 14 February 1893, Page 4

FICTION IN BRIEF.

MEG TiIREGOLD. [By FiiOeenck Warden.] ((■ontiivucd.) " Is this vour dog?" I asl<ed ot the mar with the long pipe, who looked, in spite ol the character I had just heard of him, prosperous and jovial. "He seems to have taker a great fancy to me, and so I have to hirr, for he's a beautv and no mistake. " " Ay, sir, that' 'a be," said the cheap-jack who was evidently a Yorkshireman. " Ami a picter 'a used to look, a standin' ont' plank wi' a boy p,ot-u p as your Little Lord Fondeloy, black velvet and crochet collar and aparticlar nice 'end of 'air. it drawed t'folk, 'specially the women, better nor plum pudden competitions or barrer races, or any sooclilike. Didn't it Martha?"

A .stout lady in purple silk, with a black " ironi," who was shims: by her husbandsside, careless of tobacco-fumes, nodded emphatic assent as she smoothed out the folds oi her dress with large mittened hand. " You've given him up then ?" I asked, noting his regretful tone. " 'A's given me oop," he answered rather .sharply. ' " Yw' nothing to do but eat his head off, 'a 's taken into his head to catch such a cold I can't let him show, as folkwould be saying it was cruelty. So there 1 am, supporting boy and dog, and nothing to show for it."

And he took two or three vicious puffs at his pipe. "You might engage another boy till this one lost histoid," I suggested. "That's what I'm always a-tellin' of him !' broke in Mrs. Duckers triumphantly. But her husband shut her up with a glance of scorn.

" Nae, I couldn't," he said decisively, " To be any good, t'boy must be takin'-like, and have a 'ead ot 'air. Wigs won't do ; I've tried 'em. And our boy has a pair of eyes that fetch the women, and there's no denyin' he makes your ord'nary brat look commonlike and broad in the nose. Besides, it don't do for your Lord Fondeloy to sniff, and most of 'em sniffs. Now Wallie doan't sniff; and that fact alone is worth a fortin'!" " Well," said I, as I rose to leave the room. " I hope he'll soon get well for his own sake as well as for yours, poor little chap!" " He'll take his time about it, if only to spite me!" grumbled Mr. Duckers, while his wife rose and made me a bob-curtsey. "It suits his book better to lie all day a-coddlin' himself oop than to earn his bread ar.d repay his benefactors." I didn't care much for the benefactor's tone, and I quite sympathised with Ruff for not liking him. It was a strange thing though, to see how the animal, who had been lying quietly under the table, jumped out v. hen I opened the door, and slunk out after rue. I paused in the hall a few minutes to put my pipe away, thinking I would go iuio the coffee-room and have some tea. As I did so, I felt something tugging at my coat. If was Ruff, the collie ; he was wagging his tail, and nulling me towards the back of the hall. Wondering what was the matter with him, T let him lead me across the stonepaved floor and along a passage which led !:i:o the courtyard behind the inn. At the botiom of this courtyard was a closed door, to which Ruff led me, evidently desiring me :o open it. I did so, and he bounded through into a sloping held in which a large tent was creci.-d. close by which stood a living-van on wheels.

'I he dog ran, barking, up the wooden steps, and a few moments later the door was .■f.fiidd a lew inches, and a childish voice, hoar.-.!' and weak, said :

" RulY, good old Ruffie! Where have you been so lons V '1 lien the boy broke into a violent fit of consilium. I noticed how thin the little hand was which he put out to pat the dog's head, and I was moved with pity for the poor little beggar left out here in the cold. li was 100 dark for me to see his face in the shadow of the door.

" Hallo! little man," I cried. " All alone here ? Haven't you got a light ?" '* I don't want one, thank you, sir," answered the boy, timidly. " I'm all right." " That remains to be seen," muttered I.

Running back into the inn, I provided myself with a lantern, and returning, induced the boy, who was rather frightened by my intrusion, to let me in. The old cheap-jack was right : he was a " taking-looking" child, About eight years old, but looking younger on account of his extreme fragility, he had silky lair hair and large grey eyes, and a gentle egression which might well "fetch the women folk," a--, old Dlickers had said. " This place is too cold for you without a ihv>, with that cold," I said; while Ruff, evidently believing that he had brought a ;/<".;cl iiiend to his young master, stood between us and wagged his tail. ~"~ v " O'n, no," said the boy, " I have a rug; and liulf comes and curls himself up by me and keeus me warm."

" And do they leave you shut up here by .omseli all day ?" I asked, trying to hide my ihdknation.

" Oil, I don't mind. I have a book that I .;an read while the light lasts, and I don't eel 1 want to run about now. Mrs. Duckers never forgets to give me my breakfast and iinner; but I don't seem to want to eat much, and I shouldn't much mind if she ;ovgot." "*~ !,>;>» »

'i he little fellow, while rather alarmed by •;>e thought of what the consequences might ..: nf admitting a stranger, was evidently -:!:,,iueci io get some relief from his loneli:'.eoM bv this conversation. He told me, in .-iiiswer (i.) my questions, that he had never :-iii)wn his father or beard anything about dm ; that ids mother used to make dresses, .ut i hut she had died 'oh, ever so long ago, : is WalHe added with a sigh ; and that Mr. iivl '.Mrs. Duckers, who were lodging in the -,:n,:-; !:'n; c e as his mother when she died, ;i".n ; v.d,-.rjtcd Idm and taken him round the :: liii'.r.-'v.ivk Ibeni ever since.

■;-, tiifiy were not m,kind,he went on in

i:s .*(.'!• to a further question, at least not 'Hi; his cold got so bad. Then Mr. •■I--:' c.s had said that Wallie's mothercam<*.

,r:,)> ',',;i>r/' parts, and perhaps they might he ;<\.'lc io Jin i some or her friends. If not, ... ■->.;« co'it;;ui' il with a sob, they said ~i;.< liiiii" .about undi.ug his mother's parish :: . : ; r,i;:iing )'hn into the Workhouse there " wii-i.: v ■;•.•_; yvtirmolher's name, Wallie ?'•• i :c-!. >:•■., •icnti' - - while I privately clenched i .v i:..t'v.it!i a'sti.-rg desire to "go for" old 1. 1 (v.''-xrs. " i , ,-zie," said he ■' I lut sir-, been Mrs. Something, 'w'is.-.t did ti.-o people rail her?" W.d.iii: couk', not remember. He had 5. ~■. iik v.:th her name in it, but it was only jii.st " Lizzie." lie would show it to me. '.I he boy brought out of a box, containing Mich private trea.sures as he possessed, a book in a binding which had once been gay '.•-■!ih ma:enta and gold. It was a volume, oi f.olecLions of poetry ; a regular lover's id, 1 guessed with a smile, as I opened it ;-m! turned to the flvdeaf.

t'iit the insci ipMon there, written with a ouill i'<'ii. in a bold, iirm, masculine handwrit :r':r startled me bc-vond measure. It

was this: " '-\ itii dearest love to Lizzie, on her bhthdny, from Seb-rt Corringham." '1 lan'there was a long iiourish, andadate My "brain reded as the possibilities which lids discovery opened out crowded in upon :iiv mind. Sebert Corringham was a free man then ! And this was the child he had ;.-".;..r seen ! Alter a brief, passionate strugg.io with myself I set my teeth hard, knowi;'.; what I must do. " Wallie," I said in a voice in which even the boy noticed a change, " Will you lend me this book ? I will take great care of it, {ln ha continued.)