Cousin Becky's champions

by Eleanora H. Stooke

"I always wondered why she did not tell you her exact position," Mrs. Marsh admitted; "but, of course, she had a right to keep her business to herself. It is very kind of her to have the children at the Mill House, and I am pleased to let Edgar stay. By-the-by, I suppose she will not return here?"

"It is her intention to do so. She wishes to continue living with us. I think she has become attached to us all, and we are certainly very fond of her."

"You were always her champions," Mrs. Marsh replied, with a somewhat regretful sigh; "and I so feared she would prove a burden to you! I thought it very unwise of Martin to have her here, and I was vexed with you all for making so much of her. Ah, well, I learnt to value Cousin Becky at her true worth when she came to us in our trouble and nursed our boy in his sickness. You have no idea, Mary, how good she was to him; and he confessed to her what he had feared to confess to his father or me, all about the Calais Noble, and—and—"

"We won't say anything more about that," Mrs. Trent interrupted gently as her companion hesitated and looked distressed. "It was a painful business; but Roger and Edgar are good friends now, and we won't revert to the past. How do you think your brother is looking?"

"Capital," Mrs. Marsh answered heartily, "and as for you, Mary, you are actually quite rosy and not nearly so painfully thin as you were a month ago. Norfolk air has done wonders for you."

When Cousin Becky and the children returned to Beaworthy, in September, they all brought a fund of health and good spirits as well as the happiest memories of a pleasant holiday with them. Edgar, who had left home wan and thin, was "as plump as a partridge and as brown as a gypsy," so his father declared at the dinner-table on the night of his arrival when the little boy dined with his parents and entertained them with accounts of his doings at Lynn. They had heard all about his experience with Polly when she had sprained her ankle, so he did not dwell on that story but, on chancing to mention it, his father remarked: "I was glad to hear my son did not play the coward," and he met the gaze of his mother's eyes full of a tender, loving light, and his heart thrilled with happiness, whilst he determined never, if he could possibly help it, to do anything to grieve his parents or make them ashamed of him again. That night, ere he went to bed, he sought and found the cigarettes, which he had secreted so many months before at the bottom of a drawer in the set of drawers in his bedroom. Whilst at the Mill House, he had often wondered if they would be discovered in his absence, and what would be thought of him for having hidden them, for he had forgotten to get rid of them before leaving home. It was a weight off his mind to be able to destroy them now; so he tore them to pieces, which he flung out of the window. That done, he went to bed happy, glad to be at home once more, and grateful to his parents for having made no reference to the past.

Within a week of the return of Cousin Becky and the young people to Beaworthy the Grammar School reopened and work-a-day life recommenced for Roger and Edgar; whilst Polly, much to her satisfaction, found that she, too, was to be sent to school.

"I believe it's Cousin Becky's doing," the little girl said confidentially to her brother. "And, do you know," she continued in her most impressive manner, "I'm almost certain it was Cousin Becky who used to send Sarah Glubb those postal orders when her husband was in the hospital. I asked her about it yesterday, and she laughed and told me not to be inquisitive, but I'm sure I'm right."

"I daresay you are," Roger replied. "How amused she must have been to hear us discussing who Sarah's good fairy could be! It must be nice to be rich, Polly, to be able to do people good turns like that."

"Aunt Janie said father would rue the day when he took the charge of an old woman who never had the least claim upon him," remarked Polly, who had recollected the exact words her aunt had used, and had often pondered over them; "but she was wrong. She didn't know Cousin Becky properly then or she would not have said it. Mother says Cousin Becky has been a real blessing to us, and—"