Jack's Two Sovereigns

by A. S. Fenn

Of the three bed-rooms one belonged to the boys, one to the girls, and the other to Mr. and Mrs. Kayll and the baby.

The boys had gone early to bed that night, Bob and Jack so thoroughly tired out that they quickly fell asleep, the latter to dream that his father came home and caned him well—although Mr. Kayll had never caned anyone in his life, and probably never would—for his foolish little joke which had done so much harm. For, though no one had said a word of reproach to him on the subject since his part in the affair became known, Jack blamed himself bitterly, and was at the bottom of his heart extremely unhappy, but at the same time much too proud to confess the fact, or even to let it be guessed from his manner or appearance. Only Bessie seemed to understand, and was very loving to him in consequence in her shy little way.

Yet, as a matter of fact, though he had helped to bring about this trouble that had fallen on the whole family, Jack was not more unhappy than Jem, who lay long awake, restless and dissatisfied with himself, wishing that he had not thrown away his situation for a mere whim; that he had tried for another; that his father were back; that the baby were not ill; that they were all better off; wishing and wishing, until his wishes gradually faded into uneasy dreams, and his dreams into a complete blank.

In the girls’ room there was one more wakeful still—little Bessie, whose mind was very active, as is often the case with delicate people. She lay wide awake, hour after hour, her small brain busy with one thing after another, until she felt too nervous to lie still, stepped out of bed, and began to dress.

For Bessie had taken it into her head that she was being deceived for her good, and that her little brother was really dying.

“They say he will be better in the morning, and they mean that all his illness will be over, and that he will be a little angel,” she said to herself. “And father will never see him again.”

And the tears crept quietly down her cheeks as she put on her clothes. If she could not sleep it would be better to be up, and then she should hear what was going on. She loved her baby brother so dearly, and perhaps he would never again smile at her, never again prattle to her in his pretty unintelligible way, which she always fancied she understood—she hardly thought anyone understood or loved him as she did. Well, there was one way.

She kneeled down by her bed, folded her hands, and closed her eyes, while her lips moved softly for some time, though she only said the same simple words again and again.

At last she stood up, dried her eyes, and went to the window to look wistfully up at the stars. Poor little Bessie! she loved every one she knew so much that her only great wish was that she and her father, mother, brothers and sisters might all die at once, and so no one be left lonely upon earth.

A sound from down-stairs made her start and go to the door to listen. Somebody was certainly up and moving about. Who could it be? She peered out and saw that her mother’s door was shut, while a streak of light beneath told that a candle was left burning. At the same time from the room occupied by the boys came to her ears something very like a snore.