CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY.
Slowly recovering consciousness, I found myself lying on the floor of awaiting-room, with a gentleman bending over me. Instantly recollectingwhat had occurred, I endeavoured to start up, but was obliged to fallback again.
"You must lie quiet sir," said the gentleman. "You're not much hurt.We will send you on, if you choose, by the train that is expected in afew minutes."
"Is the elderly gentleman safe?" I asked eagerly.
"Which elderly gentleman? There were several in the train, but none areinjured, I believe, though some are much shaken. Nobody has beenkilled. It has been quite a miraculous escape."
"Merciful--call it merciful, my dear sir," said I, looking upwards andthanking God with all my heart for sparing my life.
Two days after that I lay on the drawing-room sofa in Hoboy Crescent.Mr and Mrs McTougall had gone out. So had the children, the forenoonbeing fine. Edith had remained at home, for reasons which she did notsee fit to divulge. She sat beside me with one of her hands in mine.It was all arranged between us by that time.
"Edith," said I after a short pause in our conversation, "I have longwanted to tell you about a dear little old lady with whom Robin Slidderand I have had much to do. She's one of my poor patients, whom I havenot mentioned to you before, but I've heard something about her latelywhich makes me wish to ask your advice--perhaps your aid--in a rathercurious search which I've been engaged in for a long time past."
"I will go for my work, John, and you shall tell me all about it," shereplied, rising. "I shall be five or ten minutes in preparing it. Canyou wait patiently?"
"Well, I'll try, though of course it will be like a separation of fiveor ten years, but Dumps and I will solace each other in your absence.--By the way, touch the bell as you pass. I should like to see Robin, nothaving had a talk with him since the accident."
When Robin appeared I asked him if he had seen the Slogger.
"No, sir, I 'aven't," replied Robin, with a somewhat cross look. "Thatthere Slogger has played me false these two times. Leastwise, though hecouldn't 'elp it the fust time, he's got to clear 'isself about thesecond."
"You know where the Slogger lives, don't you?" I asked.
"Oh yes, but it's a long, long way off, an' I durstn't go without leave,an' since you was blowed up i' the train I've scarce 'ad a word with thedoctor--he's bin that busy through 'avin' your patients on 'is 'ands aswell as is own."
"Well, Robin, I give you leave to go. Be off within this very hour, andsee that you bring me back some good news. Now that we have reason tobelieve the poor girl is in London, perhaps near us, I cannot rest untilwe find her--or prove the scent to have been a false one. Away withyou!"
As the boy went out, Edith came back with her work basket.
"I've been thinking," said I, as she sat down on a stool beside me,"that before beginning my story, it would be well that you shouldunburden your dear little heart of that family secret of yours which youthought at first was a sufficient bar to our union. But before youbegin, let me solemnly assure you that your revelations, whatever theyare, will utterly fail to move me. Though you should declare yourselfto be the daughter of a thief, a costermonger, or a chimpanzee monkey--though you should profess yourself to have been a charwoman, afoundling, a Billingsgate fish-woman, or a female mountebank--myfeelings and resolves will remain the same. Sufficient for me to knowthat you are _you_, and that you are _mine_!--There, go on."
"Truly, then, if such be your feelings, there is no need of my going on,or even beginning," she replied, with a smile, and yet with a touch ofsadness in her tone which made me grasp her hand.
"Ah, Edith! I did not mean to hurt you by my jesting, and yet thespirit of what I say is true--absolutely true."
"You did not hurt me, John; you merely brought to my remembrance mygreat sorrow and--"
"Your great sorrow!" I exclaimed in surprise, gazing at her smoothyoung face.
"Yes, my great sorrow, and I was going to add, my loss. But you shallhear. I have no family mystery to unfold. All that I wished you toknow on that head was that I am without family altogether. All aredead. I have no relation on earth--not one."
She said this with such deep pathos, while tears filled her eyes, that Icould not have uttered a word of comfort to save my life.
"And," she continued, "I am absolutely penniless. These two points atfirst made me repel you--at least, until I had explained them to you.Now that you look upon them as such trifles I need say no more. But theloss to which I have referred is, I fear, irreparable. You won't thinkme selfish or tiresome if I go back to an early period of my history?"
"Selfish! tiresome!" I repeated, "oh, Edith!"
"Well, then, many years ago my father and mother lived by the seashorenot far from Yarmouth. They were poor. My father gave lessons inFrench, my mother taught music. But they earned sufficient to supportthemselves and my grandmother and me in comfort. We were a _very_ happyfamily, for we all loved God and tried to follow in the footsteps ofJesus. I gave them, indeed, a great deal of trouble at first, but Heovercame my stubborn heart at last, and then there was nothing to marthe happiness of our lives. But sickness came. My father died. Mymother tried to struggle on for a time, but could not earn enough; Itried to help her by teaching, but had myself need of being taught. Atlast we changed our residence, in hopes of getting more remunerativeemployment, but in this we failed. Then my mother fell sick and died."
She stopped at this point.
"Oh, Edith! this makes you doubly dear," said I, drawing her nearer tome.
In a few minutes she continued--
"Being left alone now with my grandmother, I resolved to go to Londonand try to find employment in the great city. We had not been longhere, and I had not yet obtained employment when an extraordinary eventoccurred which has ever since embittered my life. I went out for a walkone day, and was robbed."
"How strange!" I exclaimed, half rising from the sofa. "What a curiouscoincidence!"
"What! How? What do you mean?" she asked, looking at me in surprise.
"Never mind just now. When I come to tell you _my_ story you willunderstand. There is a robbery of a young girl in it too.--Go on.--"
"Well, then, as I said, I was robbed by a man and a boy. I had dearlittle Pompey with me at the time, and that is the way I came to losehim. But the terrible thing was that an accident befell me just after Iwas robbed, and I never saw my darling grandmother again--"
"Coincidence!" I exclaimed, starting up, as a sudden thought was forcedupon my mind, and my heart began to beat violently, "this is _more_ thana coincidence; and yet--it cannot be--pooh! impossible! ridiculous! Mymind is wandering."
I sank back somewhat exhausted, for I had been considerably weakened bymy accident. Edith was greatly alarmed at my words and looks, andblamed herself for having talked too much to me in my comparatively weakcondition.
"No, you have not talked too much to me. You cannot do that, dear_Edie_," I said.
It was now her turn to look bewildered.
"_Edie_!" she echoed. "Why--why do you call me Edie?"
I covered my eyes with my hand, that she might not see their expression.
"There can be no doubt _now_," I thought; "but why that name of Blythe?"Then aloud:
"It is a pretty contraction for Edith, is it not? Don't you like it?"
"Like it? Yes. Oh, how much! But--but--"
"Well, Edie," I said, laying powerful restraint on myself, and lookingher calmly in the face, "you must bear with me to-night. You know thatweakness sometimes causes men to act unaccountably. Forgive me forinterrupting you. I won't do it again, as the naughty boys say.--Go on,dear, with your story."
I once more covered my eyes with my hand, as if to shade them from thelight, and listened, though I could scarcely conceal my agitation.
"The name of Edie," she continued, "is that by which my darling grannyalways called me
, and it sounded so familiar--yet so strange--comingfrom your lips. But, after all, it is a natural abbreviation. Well, asI said, an accident befell me. I had burst away from the thieves in astate of wild horror, and was attempting to rush across a crowdedthoroughfare, when a cab knocked me down. I felt a sharp pang of pain,heard a loud shout and then all was dark.
"On recovering I found myself lying in one of the beds of a hospital.My collar-bone had been broken, and I was very feverish--scarcelyunderstood where I was, and felt a dull sense of oppression on my brain.They spoke to me, and asked my name. I don't remember distinctly how Ipronounced it, but I recollect being somewhat amused at theirmisunderstanding what I said, and calling me Miss Eva Bright! I felttoo ill to correct them at the time, and afterwards became so accustomedto Eva--for I was a very long time there--that I did not think it worthwhile to correct the mistake. This was very foolish and unfortunate,for long afterwards, when I began to get well enough to thinkcoherently, and sent them to let granny know where I was, they of coursewent with the name of Eva Bright. It was very stupid, no doubt, but Iwas so weak and listless after my long and severe illness that thisnever once occurred to me. As it turned out, however, there would havebeen no difference in the result, for my darling had left her lodgingand gone no one knew where. This terrible news brought on a relapse,and for many weeks, I believe, my life hung on a thread. But thatthread was in the hand of God, and I had no fear."
"What is the name, Edie, of the grandmother you have lost?" I asked, ina low, tremulous voice.
"Willis--but--why do you start so? Now I am quite _sure_ you have beenmore severely hurt than you imagine, and that my talking so much is notgood for you."
"No--Edie--no. Go on," I said firmly.
"I have little more to tell," she continued. "Dear Dr McTougall hadattended me in the hospital, and took a fancy to me. When I was wellenough to leave, he took me home to be governess to his children. Butmy situation has been an absolute sinecure as yet, for he says I am notstrong enough to work, and won't let me do anything. It was not tillafter I had left the hospital that I told my kind friend the mistakethat had been made about my name, and about my lost grandmother. He hasbeen very kind about that, and assisted me greatly at first in my searchfor her. But there are so many--so many people of the name of Willis inLondon--old ladies too! We called together on so many that he got tiredof it at last. Of course I wrote to various people at York, and to theplace where we had lived before going there, but nothing came of it, andnow--my hopes have long ago died out--that is to say, almost--but Istill continue to make inquiries."
She paused here for some time, and I did not move or speak, being sostunned by my discovery that I knew not what to say, and feared toreveal the truth to Edith too suddenly. Then I knew by the gentle wayin which she moved that she thought I had fallen asleep. I was glad ofthis, and remained quietly thinking.
There was no doubt now in my mind that Edie Blythe was this lostgranddaughter of old Mrs Willis, but the name still remained aninsoluble mystery.
"Edie," said I abruptly, "_is_ your name Blythe?"
"Of course it is," she said, in startled surprise, "why should you doubtit?"
"I _don't_ doubt it," said I, "but I'm sorely puzzled. Why is it notWillis?"
"Why?" exclaimed Edie, with a little laugh, "because I am the daughterof Granny Willis's daughter--not of her son. My father's name wasBlythe!"
The simplicity of this explanation, and my gross stupidity in quietlyassuming from the beginning, as a matter of course, that the lost Edie'sname was the same as her grandmother's, burst upon me in its full force.The delusion had been naturally perpetuated by Mrs Willis neverspeaking of her lost darling except by her Christian name. For a fewseconds I was silent, then I exploded in almost an hysterical fit oflaughter, in the midst of which I was interrupted by the sudden entranceof my doggie, who had returned from a walk with Robin, and began togambol round his mistress as if he had not seen her for years.
"Oh, sir! I say! I've diskivered all about--"
Little Slidder had rushed excitedly into the room, but stopped abruptlyon observing Miss Blythe, who was looking from him to me with intensesurprise.
Before another word could be said, a servant entered:--
"Please, Miss Blythe, Doctor McTougall wishes to see you in his study."
She left us at once.
"Now, Robin," said I, with emphasis, "sit down on that chair, oppositeme, and let's hear all about it."
The excited boy obeyed, and Dumps, leaping on another chair beside him,sat down to listen, with ears erect, as if he knew what was coming.
"Oh, sir! you never--such a go!" began Robin, rubbing his hands togetherslowly as he spoke. "The Slogger! he twigged 'er at once. You'll openyour eyes so wide that you'll never git 'em shut again, w'en you hears.No, I never _did_ see such a lark! Edie's found! I've seen her! Sheain't the Queen--oh no; nor yet one o' the Queen's darters--by no means;nor yet a duchess--oh dear no, though she's like one. Who d'ye thinkshe is? But you'll never guess."
"I'll try," said I, with a quiet smile, for I had subdued myself by thattime.
"Try away then--who?"
"Miss Edith Blythe!"
On hearing this, little Slidder's eyes began to open and glisten tillthey outshone his own buttons.
"Why--how--ever--did you come to guess it?" gasped the boy, onrecovering himself.
"I did not guess it, I found it out. Do you suppose that nobody canfind out things except Sloggers and pages in buttons?"
"Oh, sir, _do_ tell!" entreated the boy.
I did tell, and after we had each told all that we knew, we mentallyhugged ourselves, and grew so facetious over it that we began to addressDumps personally, to that intelligent creature's intense satisfaction.
"Now, Robin," said I, "we must break this _very_ cautiously to the oldlady and Miss Blythe."
"Oh, in course--we-r-y cautiously," assented the urchin, withinconceivable earnestness.
"Well, then, off you go and fetch my greatcoat. We'll go visit MrsWillis at once."
"At vunce," echoed Robin, as he ran out of the room, with blazing cheeksand sparkling eyes.
"Lilly," said Dr McTougall, as Edith entered his consulting-room. "I'mjust off to see a patient who is very ill, and there is another who isnot quite so ill, but who also wants to see me. I'll send you to thelatter as my female assistant, if you will go. Her complaint is chieflymental. In fact, she needs comfort more than physic, and I know of noone who is comparable to you in that line. Can you go?"
"Certainly, with pleasure. I'll go at once."
"Her name," said the doctor, "is Willis.--By the way, that reminds me ofyour loss, dear girl," he continued in a lower tone, as he gently tookher hand, "but I would not again arouse your hopes. You know how manyold women of this name we have seen without finding her."
"Yes, I know too well," returned poor Edith, while the tears gathered inher eyes. "I have long ago given up all hope."
But notwithstanding her statement Edith had not quite given way todespair. In spite of herself her heart fluttered a little as she spedon this mission to the abode of _another_ old Mrs Willis.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
THE LAST.
When Robin and I reached the abode of our old friend--in a state, let meadd, of almost irrepressible excitement--we found her seated in the oldarm-chair by the window, gazing sadly out on the prospect.
It was not now the prospect of red brick and water-spout, with a remotedistance of chimney--cans and cats, which had crushed the old lady'sspirit in other days--by no means. There was a picturesque littlecourt, with an old pump in the centre to awaken the fancy, and frequentvisits from more or less diabolical street-boys, to excite theimagination. Beyond that there was the mews, in which a lively scene ofvariance between horses and men was enacted from morning till night--ascene which derived much additional charm from the fact that MrsWillis, being short-sighted, formed fearfully incorrect estimates ofmen, a
nd beasts, and things in general.
"Well, granny, how are you?" said I, seating myself on a stool besideher, and thinking how I should begin.
"Pretty griggy--eh?" inquired little Slidder.
"Ah! there you are, my dear boys," said the old lady, who had latterlygot to look upon me and my _protege_ as brothers. "You are always sureto come, whoever fails me."
"Has any one failed you to-day, granny?" I asked.
"Yes, Dr McTougall has," she replied as petulantly as it was possiblefor her to speak. "I've been feeling very low and weak to-day, and sentfor him; but I suppose he thinks it's only imagination. Well, well,perhaps it is," she added, after a pause, and with a little sigh. "I'mvery foolish, no doubt."
"No, granny," said I, "you're not foolish,"--("Contrariwise, wery muchthe reverse," interrupted Slidder)--"and I'm glad that I chanced to comein, because, perhaps, I may be able to prescribe for you as well as he."
"Better, dear boy, better"--("That's it, cheer up!" from Slidder)--"andit always does me a world of good to see your handsome face."
"Well, granny," said I, with a flutter at my heart, as I looked up ather thin careworn face, and began to break the ice with caution, "I'vecome--I--there's a little piece of--of--"
"Now then, dig in the spurs, doctor, an' go at it--neck or nuffin',"murmured my impatient companion.
"What are you saying, Robin?" asked Mrs Willis, with a slightly anxiouslook. "There's nothing wrong, I hope?"
"No, no; nothing wrong, granny," said I, hastening to the point; "verymuch the reverse. But--but--you heard of my accident, of course?" Isaid, suddenly losing heart and beating about the bush.
"Stuck again!" murmured Slidder, in a tone of disgust.
"Yes, yes; I heard of it. You don't mean to say that you're gettingworse?" said the old lady, with increasing anxiety.
"Oh no! I'm better--much better. Indeed, I don't think I ever felt sowell in my life; and I've just heard a piece of good news, which, I'mquite sure, will make you very glad--very glad indeed!"
"Go it, sir! Another burst like that and you'll be clear out o' thewood," murmured Slidder.
"In fact," said I, as a sudden thought struck, "I'm going to bemarried!"
"Whew! you never told _me_ that!" exclaimed Slidder, with widening eyes.
"_Will_ you be quiet, Robin?" said I, rather sternly; "how can I getover this very difficult matter if you go on interrupting me so?"
"Mum's the word!" returned the boy, folding his hands, and assuming alook of ridiculous solemnity.
At that moment we heard a noise of pattering feet on the landingoutside. The door, which had not been properly closed, burst open, andmy doggie came into the room all of a heap. After a brief moment lostin apparently searching for his hind-legs, he began to dance and friskabout the room as if all his limbs were whalebone and his spiritquicksilver.
"Oh, there's that dog again! Put it out! put it out!" cried MrsWillis, gathering her old skirts around her feet.
"Get out, Dumps! how dare you come here, sir, without leave?"
"_I_ gave him leave," said a sweet voice in the passage.
Next moment a sweeter face was smiling upon me, as Edith entered theroom.
There was a feeble cry at the window. I observed that the sweet smilevanished, and a deadly pallor overspread Edith's face, while her eyesgazed with eager surprise at the old lady for a few seconds. MrsWillis sat with answering gaze and outstretched arms.
"Edie!"
"Granny!" was all that either could gasp, but there was no need formore--the lost ones were mutually found! With an indescribable cry ofjoy Edith sprang forward, fell on her knees, and enfolded granny in herarms.
"'Ere you are, doctor," whispered Robin, touching me on the elbow andpresenting a tumbler of water.
"How? What?"
"She'll need it, doctor. I knows her well, an' it's the on'y thing asdoes her good w'en she's took bad."
Slidder was right. The shock of joy was almost too much for the oldlady. She leaned heavily on her granddaughter's neck, and if I had notcaught her, both must have fallen to the ground. We lifted her gentlyinto bed, and in a few minutes she recovered.
For some time she lay perfectly still. Edith, reclining on the lowlycouch, rested her fair young cheek on the withered old one.
Presently Mrs Willis moved, and Edith sat up.
"John," said the former to me, looking at the latter, "this is my Edie,thanks be to the Lord."
"Yes, granny, I know it, and she's my Edie too!"
A surprised and troubled look came on her old face. She evidently waspained to think that I could jest at such a moment. I hastened torelieve her.
"It is the plain and happy truth that I tell you, granny. Edith isengaged to marry me.--Is it not so?"
I turned towards the dear girl, who silently put one of her hands inmine.
Old Mrs Willis spoke no word, but I could see that her soul was full ofjoy. I chanced to glance at Robin, and observed that that waif hadretired to the window, and was absolutely wiping his eyes, while Dumpssat observant in the middle of the room, evidently much surprised at,but not much pleased with, the sudden calm which had succeeded theoutburst.
"Come, Robin," said I, rising, "I think that you and I will leave them--Good-bye, granny and Edie; I shall soon see you again."
I paused at the door and looked back.
"Come, Dumps, come."
My doggie wagged his scrumpy tail, cocked his expressive ears, andglanced from me to his mistress, but did not rise.
"Pompey prefers to remain with me," said Edie; "let him stay."
"Punch is a wise dog," observed Robin, as we descended the stairstogether; "but you don't ought to let your spirits go down, sir," headded, with a profoundly sagacious glance, "'cause, of course, he can't'elp 'isself now. He'll 'ave to stick to you wotever 'appens--an' to metoo!"
I understood the meaning of his last words, and could not help smilingat the presumptuous certainty with which he assumed that he was going tofollow my fortunes.
Is it needful to say that when I mentioned what had occurred to DrMcTougall that amiable little man opened his eyes to their widest?
"You young dog!" he exclaimed, "was it grateful in you to repay all mykindness by robbing me in this sly manner of my governess--nay, I maysay, of my daughter, for I have long ago considered her such, andadopted her in my heart?"
"It was not done slily, I assure you," said I; "indeed, I fought againstthe catastrophe with all my might--but I--I could not help it at last;it came upon me, as it were, unexpectedly--took me by surprise."
"Humph!" ejaculated the doctor.
"Besides," I added, "you can scarcely call it robbery, for are not youand I united as partners, so that instead of robbing you, I have, inreality, created another bond of union between you and Edie?"
"H'm!" said the doctor.
"Moreover," I continued, "it happens most opportunely just now that thehouse opposite this one is to let. It is a much smaller andlower-rented house than this, and admirably suited for a very smallfamily, so that if I secure it we will scarcely, I may say, have to quityour roof."
"Ah! to be sure," returned the doctor, falling in with my humour, "wewill have the pleasure of overlooking and criticising each other and ourrespective households. We may sit at the windows and converse acrossthe street in fine weather, or flatten our noses on the glass, and makefaces at each other when the weather is bad. Besides, we can have atunnel cut under the street and thus have subterranean communication atany time of the day or night--and what a charming place that would befor the children to romp in! Of course, we would require to have itmade of bricks or cast-iron to prevent the rats connecting it with thesewers, but--"
A breeze of pattering feet overhead induced the doctor to pause. Itincreased to a gale on the staircase, to a tempest in the lobby. Thedoor was burst open, and Jack, and Harry, and Job, and Jenny, and Dolly,with blazing cheeks and eyes, tumbled tumultuously into the room.
&nb
sp; "Oh papa!" screamed Harry, "Lilly's been out an' found her mother!"
"No, it's not--it's her gan-muver," shrieked Dolly.
"Yes, an' Dr Mellon's going to marry her," cried Jenny.
"Who?--the grandmother?" asked the doctor, with a surprised look.
"No--Lilly," they all cried, with a shout of laughter, which Jackchecked by stoutly asserting that it was her great-grandmother thatLilly had found. This drew an emphatic, "No, it's not," from Job, and afirmly reiterated assertion that it was "only her gan-muver" from Dolly.
"But Robin said so," cried Jack.
"No, he _didn't_," said Job.
"Yes, he _did_," cried Harry.
"Robin said she's found 'er _gan-muver_," said Dolly.
"I'll go an' ask him," cried Jenny, and turning round, she rushed out ofthe room. The others faced about, as one child, and the tempest sweptback into the lobby, moderated to a gale on the staircase, and wasreduced to a breeze--afterwards to a temporary calm--overhead.
Before it burst forth again the doctor and I had put on our hats andleft the house.
From that date forward, for many weeks, the number of lost grandmothersthat were found in the McTougall nursery surpasses belief. They werediscovered in all sorts of places, and in all imaginable circumstances--under beds, tables, upturned baths, and basin-stands; in closets,trunks, and cupboards, and always in a condition of woeful weakness andmelancholy destitution. The part of grandmother was invariably assignedto Dolly, because, although the youngest of the group, that littlecreature possessed a power of acting and of self-control which none ofthe others could equal. At first they were careful to keep as close tothe original event as possible; but after a time, thirsting for variety,they became lax, and the grandmothers were found not only bygranddaughters, but by daughters, and cousins, and nieces, and nephews;but the play never varied in the points of extreme poverty and woe,because Dolly refused, with invincible determination, to change ormodify her part.
After a time they varied the performance with a wedding, in whichinnumerable Dr Mellons were united to endless Lilly Blythes; but afterthe real wedding took place, and the cake had been utterly consumed,they returned to their first love--Lost and Found, as they termed it or,the Gan-muver's Play.
So, in course of time, the house over the way was actually taken andfurnished. Edie was installed therein as empress; I as her devotedslave--when not otherwise engaged. And, to say truth, even when I _was_otherwise engaged I always managed to leave my heart at home.Anatomists may, perhaps, be puzzled by this statement. If so--let thembe puzzled! Gan-muver was also installed as queen-dowager, in a suiteof apartments consisting of one room and a closet.
It was not in Dr McTougall's nursery alone that the game of Lost andFound was played.
In a little schoolroom, not far distant from our abode, that game wasplayed by Edie--assisted by Robin Slidder and myself--with considerablesuccess.
Robin crossed the street to me--came over, as it were--with Edith theconqueror and our doggie, and afterwards became a most valuable ally insearching for, drawing forth, tempting out and gathering in the lost.He and I sought for them in some of the lowest slums of London. Robin'sknowledge of their haunts and ways, and, his persuasive voice, hadinfluence where none but himself--or some one like him--could have madeany impression. We tempted them to our little hall with occasionalfeasts, in which buns, oranges, raisins, gingerbread, and tea playedprominent parts, and when we had gathered them in, Edith came to them,like an angel of light and preached to them the gospel of Jesus, at onceby example, tone, look, and word.
Among others who came to our little social meetings was the Slogger.That unpunished criminal not only launched with, apparently, heart andsoul into the good cause, but he was the means of inducing many othersto come, and when, in after years, his old comrade, Mr Brassey,returned from his enforced residence in foreign parts, the Sloggersought for and found him, and stuck to him with the pertinacity of hisbulldog nature until he fairly brought him in.
Thus that good work went on with us. Thus it is going on at the presenttime in many, many parts of our favoured land, and thus it will go on,with God's blessing, until His people shall all be gathered into thefold of the Good Shepherd--until that day when the puzzlements andbewilderments of this incomprehensible life shall be cleared up; when weshall be enabled to understand _why_ man has been so long permitted todwell in the midst of conflicting good and evil, and why he has beenrequired to live on earth by faith and not by sight, trusting in theunquestionable goodness and wisdom of Him who is our Life and our Light.
In all our work, whether temporal or spiritual, we had the help andpowerful sympathy of our friend Dr McTougall and his family; also of_his_ friend Dobson, the City man, who was a strong man in more waysthan one, and a zealous champion of righteousness--or "rightness," as hewas fond of calling it, in contradistinction to wrongness.
I meant to let fall the curtain at this point but something which Icannot explain induces me to keep it up a few minutes longer, in orderto tell you that the little McTougalls grew up to be splendid men andwomen; that dear old granny is still alive and well, insomuch that shebids fair to become a serene centenarian; that my sweet Edie is now"fair, fat, and forty;" that I am grey and hearty; that Dumps is greyer,and so fat, as well as stiff, that he wags his ridiculous tail with theutmost difficulty; that Brassey and the Slogger have gone intopartnership in the green-grocery line round the corner; and that RobinSlidder is no longer a boy, but has become a man and a butler. He isstill in our service, and declares that he will never leave it. My firmconviction is that he will keep his word as long as he can.
So now, amiable reader, with regret and the best of wishes, we make ourfinal bow-"wow"--and:
Bid you good-bye, My doggie and I.
THE END.
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