[COPYRIGHT STORY.] A Self-Appointed Guardian

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVII, Issue 7, 18 August 1906, Page 27

[COPYRIGHT STORY.] A Self-Appointed Guardian

By

Richard Marsh

Author of •• The Death Whistle ’

‘Wyf OTHER died while sitting in her Ijf l ehair writing to me. It was I 1 tea-time, ami she did not eome, Jr X w Con went to see what she was doing. " ’ When he found how still she was, and how unresponsive to his touch, he rushed off frightened half out of his wits. Then they all trooped into the room, and found that site was dead. She had a pen in her hand, arid a sheet of paper in front of her, and had begun the first line of a letter to me: vjly dear Mollie.” Death must have eome upon her as she was writing my name, for there is a blot at the end of it, as if her pen had jabbed into the paper. No one knew what she was going to say to me, or ever will. It was just her weekly letter—she wrote to me each Monday. And I expect she'was going to tell me the home news—what Nora had been doing, and what mischief the boys had been in, and beg me to be a good girl, and think before I did things sometimes, and keep my stockings darned —those stockings were almost as great a trouble to her as they were to me. Not a creature had a notion that she was ailing. Indeed, she Was not. She was in good spirits—mother always was in good spirits—and in perfect health half an hour before. It seemed that something extraordinary must have happened to her heart, which no one could have "expected. Death must have eome upon her in an instant. She must have gone before she had the least idea of what was going to happen. When she got to heaven, how grieved she nwst have been to . tluit idle ; had “ been compelled to leave us all’without a iroji. Tlffe state the Rouse' was in? And the children! They w eres-ih-much-’more-Heed - of help, than mother was* -She was calm enough. On hft.faee was the smile with which she always greeted me. She always did look happy, mother did,; but I never saw; look happier than when she was lyfiig .dead.-, But the children were half beside themselves. -It was dreadful—- - the boys especially. The Whole house was topsy-turvy. Nobody knew what to do: everybody skeined to have lost their wits. ~

I nat is how Mr. Miller came on the scene. lie. was our nearest neighbour. His house was about half a mile down the lane, it was only a cottage. He inhabited it with a dreadful drunken old woman as his only servant, it was said that he could "get no one else to ,stop in the house.'i When he first caine* he'tried to cultivate mamma’s acquaintance;—but she would have nothing-to do with him, and would scarcely recognise him when she' met him in the lane. ' I once heard Dick speak of him as an "unmannerly ruffian,” but I never knew whv.

The morning after death , he ‘•ante.marching into 41te house to ask’if he could be of any assistance. No-one, so far as I could ever gather, said either J'"'*,.!* 1 ' no, which shbWs the condition*xve were in. He seems'to have taken* <Tur consent for granted—■’B6 sueh an extent that he at once took gnjo his hands tile ent ire management of and for that, in oiie way, 1- Was £li e trouble j-eally,, began aftejT She f'.'-nei'al-was overt: j . lyjs, '\.e children were .in such a stiapge positi on . g o f, (l . a^..we -g neWj in<>oier, we had notmar,relation world. There certainly were none’Avjth "hmn we were hi ebniffi unieat ion. ffon ''as. a baby when father died, he 'Jas nearly eleven, so We' musUh#ye e* n in that tiny vitlageuYuite nine jtetfrs. And du r i ng all that 'time, I donotibjhk ■Yrn' 1 a . ' ;i3 *' tor -»2vCJ , i?« n, . a y seeßF’.-ni-”!s 1 do not rem'em’beiftiqne. m ii* S ’ those who were there mother dni n o t seem to care for. • o the Was, that when qhe k»nJ° n > e w< * knc "’ nothing. We did not from " , hr "’lie-l'e she got her ■money or "hat mone| shfi had.

It was under these circumstances that Mr. Miller showed a disposition to take entire control as if everything about the place—we included—belonged to him. Already there had not been wanting signs that the entire establishment more than sufficiently appreciated the change which had taken place. The cook was a new. one; she had come since my last holidays. On the day of mother’s funeral she was intoxicated: she had indulged too freely in the refreshments which Mr. Miller had so liberally ordered. So it may be imagined what sort of character she must have been. The next morning the housemaid, who had been with us longest, eame and tod me that she could not continue in a house in which there was no mistress. When I mildly suggested that I was the mistress now, she longest came and told’’me that she could not think of taking her orders from me. Air. Miller, who-had been standing at the morning-room door listening, called her into him. The details of what took place between them I never learned. But that afternoon she took herself oil—without another word to me. When, after she had gone, I went into'mother’s room, I found that all sorts of things were miss-' ingr, I-. feared that Alary Sharp Had taken them, and that was the real ex-' planation of her anxiety to depart. It made me conscious of such an added sense of misery—the feeling that henceforward we were going to be taken advantage of by everyone. But Air. Aliller was the thorn in our sides. The day after Alary left we held a council of war in Dick’s bedroom. "I’m not going to stand this sort of thing,” Dick announced. “And the sooner that beggar downstairs is brought to understand as much the better. Why, he’s messing about with mother’s papers at this very moment.” . > Dick drew himself up as straight as a dart. Although he was only fifteen, he was five feet eight inches high, and as strong as anything—and so good-look-ing. “But surely mother must have left a will —there must be something to tell us what is going to happen.” That was what I said. Dick took up my words at once. “That point shall soon be settled. We’ll go down and tackle the beggar right away.” Oil we trooped to interview the man in a body. He was in the morning-room—-mother’s own particular apartment. Outside the door we might have hesitated, but it was only for a moment. In strode Dick, and in we all went after him. Mr. Aliller seemed surprised and not too pleased, to see us. A bottle and a glass well' on the table; both of those articles seemed to be his inseparable companions. One of his horrid dogs, which had been lying on the hearthrug, eame and sniffed at us as if we were intruders. The whole room was in confusion. It looked as if it had riot been tidied for days, and I daresay it had not been. When I thought of how different it used to be when’ it was mother’s very own room, a pang went right through my heart! I could not keep the tears out of my eyes, and it was only because I was so angry that I managed ‘to choke them back again. Papers arid things were everywhere. At the moment of our entrance he had both his hands full of What I was convinced were mother’s private letters. It w’as nbt surprising that- Dick spoke to himin the' fiery way be did.

“What are you doing with those things? What do yon want here at all?” Air. Aliller glanced up, then down again. Ido not believe he could meet Dick’s eyes. He smiled, a nasty smile, for which I could have pinched him. And he continued to turn over the things which he was holding. “Aly dear boy, I’m putting these papers into something like order. I never saw anything like the state of confusion which everything is in.” “Don’t call me ‘your dear boy!’ And what business of yours is it what state they’re in? Who asked you to put them in order? What right have you to touch them ?” The creature calmly went on with what he was doing, as if Dick was a person of not the slightest consequence. And he continued to indulge in that extreinely objectionable smile. “Abu haven't a very nice way of asking questions. And sonic people might think that the questions themselves were a little suggestive of ingratitude.” ’ '•‘What have T to: be grateful for ? I never asked you to corrie here: you are not a friend of ours.” “That you most emphatically are'not 1£ was I who came. blazing out with that. He looked at me out of the corner of his bloodshot eyes, his smile more pronounced than ever. “Now, .Miss Aloljy, that's unkind .of you.” 1 was in a rage. “You appear to be oblivious of the faet that you were not even an acquaintance of my mother's: and as those persons she did not wish to know we do not care to know either, we shall be: obliged by your leaving the house at your earliest possible convenience.” “Inside of two seconds,” added Dick. A very ugly look came on Mr. Miller's face. “This is an extraordinary world. !■ don’t want to say anything offensive —” “You can say what you like,” cried Dick. “1 intend to, my lad.” “Don't call me ‘your lad!’” • The creature looked at Dick. And I knew, from the expression which was on both their faces, that if we were not careful there was going to be trouble. I am not sure that my heart did not quail. The man spoke as if my brother was unworthy even of his contempt. “Air. Dick Boyes, you appear to be under the impression that you are still at school, ami can play the bully here, and treat me as 1 have no doubt you are in the habit of treating the smaller chaps there.' You never made a greater mistake in the course of your short life. I am not the kind of man who w ill allow himself to be bullied by a hobbledehoy. I give you fair warning that if'yoiTtrcat me to any of your insolence the consequences will be bn your own head—and other parts of you as well. Don't you Hatter yourself that the presence of your little sisters will shield you from them.” I spoke—l wanted peace. “There's not the .slightest necessity for you to talk like that, Mr. Miller. We’re quite willing to.believe that you're more than a match fp'r any number of helpless children. But this is our house ” “Indeed. l Arc you sure of that?” “At any rate, it is not your, house. And all we ask —with all possible politeness—is that yort should Ic;Tve It.”' •'l'm a good deal older than you, Alias Boyes-——

"You certainly are!” ’ “I certainly am, thank goodness. Ai 1 was observing, when you interrupted me, 1 am older than you—for which 1 have every cause Io be thankful—and my experience of the world has taught me not to pay nnieb heed to a girl's display of temper. 1 nndertook the manageinent of affairs at your own request “At my request? It’s not true!” A voice came fwui behind me. Looking round, there, in the doorway, was cook. and. on her heels, Betsy, the remaining housemaid. ’’While—-actually! —at the open window was Harris, the coachman, staring into the room as if what was taking place was the slightest concern of his. it was cook's voice which 1 heard—raised In accents of surprise. as if iny point-blank-denial of the man s wicked falsehood had amazed her. “Oh, Afiss Molly, however can you say sueh a thing! When I heard you' thank-’ ing Mr. Aliller with my own ears! Ami after all he has done for yon! Well, T never did!” In the first frenzy of my grief and bewilderment I had scarcely understood what I was saying to anybody. 1 remembered Air. Miller coming, as cook said, but that anything which had been said on either side had been intended to bear the construction which was being put upon it was untrue. “I was not in a state of’ mind to understand much of what Mr. Aliller was saying: but I supposed that he was offering to assist in the arrangements for mother’s funeral, and that offer I accept—” “\ou did so. And what you'd -have ■lone without him T can't think. lie arranged everything—blind- beautifully, too. lie’s made the family more thought of in this neighbourhood -than it ever was before. If ever helpless orphans Had a friend in need, you've >hnd olio in him—you have that.” “sI exchanged glancbs with’ Dit-k. and ; perceived that we were'-both of opinion that we had Had’bnorigh Of cisik. I told her so’.'’" ‘.-j - ux, “I have heard wlia't ybu'haVe iiad To say; arid riow, please, iviß yb’p leave‘the" room ?” “Excuse’me. ni'iss, but that's' exactljT wliat I don’t intend to do—riot till 1* know how I stand.” ' 1 “How you stand?” "I’ll sopn'teH you how you stand," observed Dick. “Ypu'll be paid a month’s wages ami you'll take yourself off.” "Oh. shall I, sir? That’s just the sort of thing I thought you would say after the way you've been trying to behave to Air. Aliller. And, in any ease, I shouldn’t think of stopping in the house with a pack of rude,, ungrateful children. But I should like more than one month’s wages, if it's the same to you. There's three months nearly due. I’ve'not had one penny since I’vc been inside this house. Not one pi-nny —and it's getting on for three months now.” "But I thought mother always paid you every month regularly.” “Did she, miss? Then perhaps you'll, prove it. She never paid me; nor niorri she didn't Betsy. There’s three months’ owing to you, isn't there, Betsy?” "That there, is.” "And so there is to you, isn’t there, Ha ■vis?” "Well—l don’t know that it's quite three months.” ' "Why, you told me yourself as how it \vas.” ' • . - Harris tilted his hat on one side, and, scratched his head, as if to jog his memory. “Well—it might bo.” At this Dick tired up. "It's all a pack of lies! I’m sure that my motiu-r paid you. your wages as they fell due, and that you’re trying to cheat US>” , Then it was cook's turn. “Don't you talk to me like that, not if you do call yourself i» young gentleman. And I'll learn you to know that a wti“ num of my age is not going to be a client by a young lad like you. Yotf Ought to be ashamed 'of 'yourself, that’s

what you ought to be—standing there disgracing of yourself.” Mr. Miller held up his hand, as if to play the -part of peacemaker. •’Gently, cook, gently! You leave it io me. and I will see that you have what js due to you.”

Such a prospect did not commend itself to me at all. That we were already being cheated all round 1 was sure. That we ran a great risk of being cheated to a much more serioiw extent if he was allowed to do as he suggested I felt equally convinced. And in any case 1 .(Lid not want his interference in our private affairs. And yet 1 did not see how We were going to get rid of him without g desperate struggle—of which, after *ll. we might get the worst. But I was not going to let him see that I was afraid of him. •’Where is the money which was in mother’s desk?” ‘’Money? .What money?” ‘’Mother always kept a large sum of money jn her desk. You have had access io her desk, though you’d no right to touch it. How much was there? And where is it now-?” ‘’l’ve seen no money.” * ‘’Why, it is with mothers’ money that jrou have been paying for everything.” “1 wish it had l»een. I’ve been paying for every blessed thing out of my own pocket.” •‘That’s a lie!” shouted Dick. ‘1 know* there was money in her desk " •’Look here, my lad —if you’ll excuse Biy calling you ‘my lad’—the next time you speak to me like that I’ll make you smart for it. Now don’t you expect another warning.” “That’s right,” cried cook. “You give liim a good, sound thrashing, Mr. Miller, lie wants it! Accusing everyone of robbing him, when it is him who’s trying to rob everylmdy!” > Mr. Miller brought down his clenched fist heavily on the table. ’’l isten to me, you children. Tor all you know—and for all I know—you’re nothing but a lot of paupers; and if you <l<«n’l want to find yourselves inside a workhouse, you’ll leave it to me to make the best of things. &»q now you’ve got it.’’ We had got 51. I saw Dick’s cheeks blanch. .1 was conscious that my own went pale. If the. awful thing at which he hinted was true, then things were, uiiles worse than 1 had ever supposed But was it true? And how —with him sitting there—were we going to look for proof of either ils truth or falsehood? •lust as I was beginning to fear that T should make a goose of myself and cry, 1 heard someone come up the front doorsteps and ask: “Is Miss Boves at home?—Miss Mollv Boyes?” I rushed out into the hall. There, Standing at the hall door, which was wide open, was the handsomest man I Lad ever seen, lie was very tall and sunburned. He had his cap in his hand, so that you could see that he had short curly hair. And his moustache was just beginning io come. I wondered if he was a harbinger of more trouble. He did not look as if be was, but he might Im ’ I am Molly Boyes.” “My name is Sanford. Tam afraid T ought to apologise for my intrusion; but I am a cousin of Hetty Travers, who tells me you are a friend of hers, I am staying a few miles from here, and she has written to say that she is afraid you arc in trouble, and to ask me to run over s.ud see if I can be of any assistance.” Hetty’s cousin! That did not sound like trouble. How sweet of her to think of me, ami to semi the great strong man. She might have guesses! what was happening to us—the dear? “I am in trouble. I have lost my mother. And now' —there is Mr. Miller.” “Mr. Miller? Who is he*” The children had already trooped into the hall. Then Dick appeared. I introduced him. ’ I'liis is my brother. Dick—Dick, this is Mr. Sanford, a cousin of Hetty Travers. You have heard me speak of Hetty. Mr. Sanford has come to know' if hr ran be of any assistance to us.” “If you really would like to do something to help us ” There Dick stopped. ITS if in doubt 4 *’! should,” said Mr. Sanford. j rather fancied from the .way he Binilcd that he had taken a liking to Dick upon the spot, I did so hope he had. “Then perhaps you'll lend me a Land Th chucking this man Miller through the window. lie's almost a aiw too largff for me. Come inside here.”

We all trooped back into the morningruom, Mr. Sanford and Dick in front. Dick pointed to the Ogre. “You see that iml i vidua I. His name’s Miller. He’s taken possession of the place as though it belongs to him; he’s made -free with my - mother’s property and papers, and wlien I ask him to leavethe house he talks about treating me to a good, sound thrashing.” •’He does, does he? Is he a relation of “Relation!—He’s not even an acquaintance.” Air. Sanford turned to me. “is it your wish, Miss Boyes, that this person should leave the house?” “It is very much my wish. He knows it is.” ; “You hear, sir. I hope it is not necessary to emphasise the wish which Miss Boyes has expressed so clearly. Mell, sir?” - “Well, sir, to you.” “You heard what I said?” “I did. And if you arc wise you'll hear what 1 say, and not interfere in what is absolutely no concern of yours.” ‘’Nothing in this house is any concern of yours,” burst out Dick. “And well you know it.” “Who’s dog is this?” asked Mr. Sanford. Mr. Miller's dog—a horrid, savage* looking creature —was snifling at Mr. Sanford’s ankles, showing his teeth, and growling in a way that was anything but friendly. Its owner grinned as if the animal’s behaviour met with his approval. ‘•l'hat’s my dog. It objects to strangers—of a certain class.” Suddenly Mr. Sanford stooped down, gripped the brute by the scruff of its neck and the root of its tail, swung it through the air, and out of the window. Harris happened to be staring at the time. The dog struck him as it passed. Over he went, and off tore the dog down the drive, yelping and howling as if it had had more than enough of our establishment. Mr. Miller sprang from hi& chair, and he used a very bad word. “What do you mean by doing that?’ 1 Harris, as he regained his feet, gaveUtterance to his woes. “That'd a nice thing to do—to throw a great dog like that right into a man’s fare. What next, I wonder.” ' Mr. Sanford was most civil. ‘‘Hope it hasn’t hurt you; but I’m afraid that your face must have been in the way.” Then, to the animal's owner, “Well, sir. we are still waiting.- By which route do you propose to follow your dog?” There was something in Mr. Sanford’s looks and manner which, in view of the little adventure his dog had had, apparently caused the man to suspect that the moment had arrived when discretion might be the better part of valour. “Before we go any further, perhaps you’ll let me know who's going to repay what I’ve advanced—nearly two hundred pounds Tm out of pocket.” ‘•You’re nearly two hundred pounds Out of pocket!” <*ried Dick. fr What for?” “Why. for seeing that your mother was buried like a respectable woman. It. begins to strike mo that you’d have liked to have had her buried by the parish.” The man ’thrust his red face so very close to Dick’s that I suppose the provocation and temptation together were’ more than Dick could stand. Anyhow, Dick gave him a tremendous slap on the cheek. In a moment Air. Sanford was between them. “It serves yon right,” he declared. “It shows what sort of person you must be that you should permit yourself to use such language in this house of mourning.” “Harris,” shouted Mr. ’Miller, “run round to Charlie Radford and Bill Perkins, ami tell ’em I want 'em—quick! And loose the dogs, ami bring 'em back with you!” “Begging of your pardon, Air. Miller,” replied Harris, possibly perceiving in which direction the wind was about to blow, “but if you want any more of your dirty work done, you'll do it yourself.” Cook was horrified. ‘•Well, the likes of that! —after all Air. Aliller has doen for you!” “Done for me! He has made inn do what I’m ashamed nF—that's what he’s done for me! I’ve had enough of him—• and of you, too. Airs. Boyes was as good a mistress as anyone need have—[know it, if no one else does. And, ATiss ATolly, your mother always paid my wages regular to the moment- —you don't owe me nothing. And you ilon't owe cook and Betsy nothing either.”

“What do you know alamt what ia and is not owing to me?” screamed cook. "i know you were paid each month, and, whuCs more, 1 know you gave a receipt for it. Why, you told me yourself that you took the wages receipt book from the little cuplMtard in the corner.”? - Cook’s virtuous indignation was In-au-tiful to behold. “It only shows how sensible Mary Sharp was to pack her box and take herself outside of such a place. And I’ll do the same within the hour.” "So will I,” said Betsy-. “Mr. Sanford,” I said, “all sorts of mother’s things are missing, and I shouldn’t be at all surprised if cook and Betsy have taken some of them.” “Me taken your mother’s things!” screamed cook. I believe that if it had not been for Mr. Sanford she would have scratched me. „ “I think it not at all ’ improbable,” lie agreed. “Is there a constable here, abouts ?” -. “There’s one in tlie village.” This was Harris, who seemed to have arrived at a sudden resolution to attack his late allies at every possible point. ‘‘Name of Pa rker.” “If you will be so good as to request Mr. Parker's immediate attendance, you shall have no reason to regret it, Mr. Harris. Neither of you women will leave this house until the contents of your lioxes have been examined in the presence of a policeman.” Cook looked uncomfortable as she met Mr. Sanford's stem glance. And it was stem. Betsy began to cry. “Things are beginning to wear rather an ugly aspect, Mr. Miller.” “Ugly aspect! What do you mean? You needn’t think I want to stop in this hugger-mugging hole! I am just as anxious to get out of it as anyone ean be to get me out.” “I should hardly think that possible.” “As for these ungrateful little wretches—and especially you, my lad!” this was Dick —“they shall liear of me very soon in quite another fashion—win :i they haven't got a bully to back them <:p.” Mr. Sanford laughed. “He’s cramming mother’s things into Itis pocket at this very moment!” cried Jim. Mr. Miller moved towards the door. But it was too late. Mr. Sanford interposed. “Excuse me, sir, but I think that now I would rather you waited till Mr. Parker arrives. We will accompany you to your own establishment. There—together—we will make certain inquiries.” He blustered a little; but he was a coward at lieart. and he had to give in. As it chanced, Harris met Parker in the lane, so that he came back with him almost at once. All sorts of things which did not belong to them were found in cook’s and Betsy’s boxes: and actually the book of which Harris had spoken, in which they themselves had signed receipts for their wages. There was a tremendous scene. Parker badly wanted to lock them up. But we had had trouble enough already, so we let them go. While we were examining the servant’s boxes upstairs, Mr. Miller was ottering Mr. Sanford an explanation. When they went round with him to his own house, he handeil over quite a collection of miscellaneous articles which belonged to mother. Iler cheque book, all sorts of papers —some of them representing stocks and shares; even some of her jewellery. Ho said he had taken them home to examine, which seemed a Very curious thing to do. The next morning he had vanished. What we should have done without Mr. Sanford if he had not come in the very nick of time, I do not dare to think. We might have been plundered of every single thing we had. It was very nice of Hetty Travers to have a big. strong cousin; and it was perfectly lovely of her to send him to us.