Angel's Brother

by Eleanora H. Stooke

"You, Miss Goodwin!" he exclaimed, somewhat amused at the idea. "Oh no, I am sure you could not."

"You can't tell that. Once I had a brother of my own; when he was about your age he was very like you in appearance, and sometimes you remind me of him in other respects. Yes! You are a little impatient of control; you like your own way; and often, when you are with Angel, you treat her as my brother used to treat me—not unkindly, but a little indifferently, without the consideration which, I think, a sister should receive. You will excuse my remarking this, my dear; I do so because perhaps you have never thought of it, and it may be a kindness to point it out—it would have been a kindness, I believe, if any one had pointed it out to my brother when he was a boy."

She spoke in a gentle musing tone, as though her mind had travelled far back into the past. It was impossible for Gerald to be annoyed, for her manner was so kind; but he flushed guiltily at her mention of his sister.

"Is your brother dead, Miss Goodwin?" he inquired, his curiosity aroused.

"Oh yes, he died—I forget when!" A doubtful expression crossed the old face, which suddenly changed to a look of gladness. "He thought of me at the last," she said softly, "and he died a Christian. That was what I had prayed for—that he might find Jesus—that was my heart's desire, which God gave me in His own good time. And so, Gerald, having had a brother myself, and remembering his boyhood so plainly—oh, so plainly!—I do not forget the many temptations and troubles that beset every boy's life, and I can see you are worried about something. I want to ask you if there's anything you're keeping from your father that ought to be told? If so, tell him, my dear, tell him."

Gerald made no reply, and the old lady said no more; but he thought over all she had said after he had parted from her outside Myrtle Villa, and wished he could pluck up sufficient courage to tell his father of his indebtedness to Reginald Hope; but he shrank from the confession which he knew must follow.

"Father's so down on people who bet and gamble," he thought miserably; "he was angry enough when he found out I'd had Angel's money, and he'd be angrier still if he knew how I spent it. Hope will have to wait until I can save enough out of my pocket-money to pay him."

But this Reginald Hope was not willing to do. When he found that Gerald really hesitated to bet upon the result of the cricket match, he lost his temper, and for the first time allowed his victim a glimpse of him in his true colours. He declared he wanted his money, that he would have it, and threatened if he was not paid shortly, to apply to Mr. Willis. Gerald did not pause to consider whether Reginald would really take this plan of action or not; he was far too horrified at the idea to be in a fit state to view the matter with commonsense; and in sheer desperation made several bets with different boys in hopes of gaining money, and thereby being enabled to get out of debt. If the Grammar School won the cricket match he would be in a position to pay all he owed; if not—but he dared not contemplate that contingency.

There were many visitors to watch the match on Saturday afternoon, for the weather was beautifully fine, and the field presented quite a gay scene. The Mickles were present, and Angel with her father and uncle; and they all seemed so happy and free from care, that Gerald felt as though he was out in the cold. They could not tell he was miserable; and the nervousness of his manner they ascribed to a very natural anxiety as to the result of the game. At first it looked as though the Grammar School boys would beat their opponents easily, and Gerald began to think that all would be well; but when their best batsman, in whom their highest hopes were centred, was caught out before he had made half a dozen runs, the unhappy boy's spirits fell and never rose again, for even Tom Mickle was obliged to admit before long that the Grammar School "hadn't a look in," as he expressed it.

The game was over at last, the strangers being the victors. Gerald was simply stunned, realizing that he was now in a worse position than ever. Reginald Hope came up behind him as he stood staring blankly at the deserted wickets with unseeing eyes, listening to the cheering, and touched him on the shoulder. Gerald turned around with a start, and to his intense relief noticed that the other's face was beaming with satisfaction.