"Never mind the seat to-night," said Mrs. Hardy in a low voice, so that Grace could not hear. "There will be plenty of opportunity to see to it before Gracie will want it."
"It will not take me a minute, Mrs. Hardy," replied Walter, "and then I can bring whatever is wanted with me when I come again."
Walter wished Mrs. Hardy good evening, and left the cottage. He had not gone many steps along the little path leading to the water-side when he heard a rustling among the bushes, and saw, or fancied he saw, one of Gracie's sisters hastening in the same direction in which he was going, but by another path.
Presently a low whistle was heard.
A minute afterwards, he had reached the little seat which he had put up for Gracie. One of the legs had been wrenched off, evidently on purpose. Walter had taken the size of it, and was about to return towards the cottage, when, on looking towards the stream, upon which the moon shone full, he saw several figures on the opposite bank. They were either getting in or out of the boat; and again he heard the same low whistle.
He had no desire to pry into other people's business, and, least of all, did he care to have anything to do with the Hardys and their mysterious doings. He turned hastily away to retrace his steps, and in so doing nearly stumbled over a sack which lay partly concealed by a bush at one side of the seat. The sack was full, and by the bright moonlight Walter saw the tail-feather of a pheasant peeping out at the mouth of the sack.
He felt quite glad when he was once more out on the high-road. Once or twice he fancied he had heard voices calling after him; but he never stopped for a moment until he had got clear of Mill Cottage and the lane leading to it. Then he stood still for a moment to take breath.
"How right mother was to caution me against that Tom Haines!" thought Walter. "And how I wish that Frank would be warned in time before he gets into some terrible trouble, which he will do sooner or later."
Walter said nothing to his mother that evening about his having seen the sack, but he told her about poor Gracie's illness; and Mrs. White promised to make some broth and some light pudding for the sick child. When Walter, after reading his Bible as usual by the light of the fire, knelt down to say his prayers that evening, he prayed for Frank Hardy that he might have grace given him to turn aside from the evil way upon which he had entered.
It is to be feared that few of us act as if we felt the full value and the great privileges of prayer—of intercessory prayer. We all can pray when we want anything for ourselves, or for those who, by the ties of relationship, are most near and dear to us; but how few of us pray for our acquaintances, let alone our enemies. And yet what is our blessed Saviour's express command?—"Pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you."