Cousin Becky's champions

by Eleanora H. Stooke

"And I'm sure she was a blessing to Aunt Janie when Edgar was ill," broke in Roger eagerly.

"Yes, that was when Aunt Janie found out what Cousin Becky was really like," nodded Polly.

Better days were coming for the Trent family; that is to say, days when good fortune was to shine upon them once more. Shortly before Christmas, Mr. Trent returned home one evening with the news that the head clerk in the clay office was retiring, and Mr. Marsh had offered him the post, which was a responsible one with a very good salary attached to it; and early in the new year he took a pretty house in the suburbs of the town, whither, in due course, he removed his family. Of course, this new abode was in no wise to be compared with the Rookery in any way, but to the Trents it seemed quite a palatial residence after the house in Princess Street, and it possessed a small garden which was a source of endless pleasure to Polly, who, always a lover of flowers, took up gardening with a will, and retained an especially sunny spot for her own cultivation.

One Saturday afternoon, in spring time, the little girl was occupied in her favourite recreation when Mrs. Marsh's carriage drew up at the garden gate, and Mrs. Marsh herself descended from it. Polly went immediately to meet her, and returned her kiss cordially, for there was a better understanding between the two than there had been formerly.

"I'm not going to stay," Mrs. Marsh said as she slipped a small package into her niece's hand. "Take that, my dear, and give it to Roger, will you?"

"He's not at home, Aunt Janie," Polly replied; "but I'll give it to him the moment he comes in."

"It's a present from his uncle and me for his birthday, to-morrow," Mrs. Marsh explained. "I hope he will like it. No, I can't stay to come in, thank you. Give my love to your mother and Cousin Becky." And she went back to her carriage and was driven away.

Naturally Polly was all impatience till her brother returned, when he promptly opened the package, and revealed to sight a handsome silver watch, similar to Edgar's, which he had always greatly admired. His amazement and delight were unbounded, and he could not understand why his aunt and uncle had remembered his birthday this year, when they had never done so before; but his parents rightly conjectured that Mr. and Mrs. Marsh had awaited an opportunity to make him this present as a slight amends for the unjust suspicion which had been entertained of him.

Roger and his cousin were the best of friends with each other now; and if Edgar was ever tempted to turn away from the path of truth, the thought of the Calais Noble and all the trouble it had caused returned to his mind to warn him that deception brings nothing but unhappiness in its train. Certainly his father was stricter with him than he had been of old, but he was not less kind; and if his mother was still over-indulgent, he no longer tried to take advantage of her affection to gain his own selfish ends as he had once been in the habit of doing.

There remains little else to be told. A few more words about Cousin Becky and her champions, and then my story is at an end. Cousin Becky still continues to make her home with those who so hospitably opened their doors to her when they believed her to be as poor as themselves and she is still the owner of the Mill House, which she often lends to those of her acquaintances who, otherwise, would not be able to afford holidays, and sometimes she visits it herself. She is on excellent terms with all her relations at Beaworthy, and is always a welcome guest at the Rookery now; but the warmest, tenderest spot in the old lady's heart, next to that occupied by her dead brother's children, is reserved for those who loved "poor Cousin Becky" and proved themselves her champions without thought of reward.