Vivian's Lesson

by Elizabeth W. Grierson

It was Sunday morning, and he determined to spend it as he thought the old Rector at home would say Sunday morning ought to be spent by a boy who could not go to church; so, after he had carried up the books to Isobel’s room, he went to the schoolroom, and taking down a big illustrated copy of The Children of the Bible, which belonged to Claude, he turned over the pages and tried to settle down to read. But the stories brought with them the thought of his mother, who had read them to Ronald and him when they were younger, and with the thought came the remembrance of the guilty secret which he must carry home with him on Wednesday, and the ugly words ‘Thief’ and ‘Liar’ floated through his brain.

Restlessly he pushed aside the book and wandered to the window. The sun was shining brightly outside, and the hoar-frost on the grass was beginning to melt. Aunt Dora had said that he might go out, and anything was better than hanging about idly, listening to thoughts which he could not silence; so he ran upstairs for his coat and muffler, peeping into Isobel’s room as he passed; but although she was tossing about in her bed she seemed to be asleep, for she took no notice of him.

Outside in the garden all was quiet. The greenhouses were locked up, so were the stables; but Monarch the big black retriever, which was kept as a watch-dog, and was looked after by Mason the coachman, was wide-awake in his kennel in the yard, and allowed the little boy to make friends with him.

For some time he amused himself with the great curly animal, which, although it could bark so fiercely at every errand-boy or beggar who came to the door, was in reality the mildest-tempered dog in the world. Mason’s house adjoined the stables, and presently Mrs Mason appeared. Evidently she was going out for the day, for she wore her best bonnet and cloak, and, after locking the door behind her, she proceeded to hide the key under an old mat on the doorstep, where Mason could find it when he came back with the carriage.

All at once she noticed Vivian, who had run into the kitchen for a piece of stale bread, and was now proceeding to break it into small pieces, and hold them out to Monarch, so as to make him jump the full length of his chain.

‘Please do not give him any more, sir,’ she said. ‘We have had to stop the children giving him scraps. He got so fat and lazy as never was, and Mason couldn’t think what was the matter with him till he found out that little Master Claude had coaxed cook to gather all the bones and broken victuals from the late dinner, and that he used to carry them out and hide them in the straw in the kennel, and then watch to see Monarch hunting for them. Very vexed the poor little kind-hearted gentleman was, too, when he was told that he mustn’t do it; but ’tis true what Mason says, that if a dog is to be a watch-dog it mustn’t have more than two meals a day, given regular, with a bone thrown in once or twice a week as a relish.’

The worthy woman hurried away, afraid that she might miss her bus; and Vivian, finding that the great watch-dog went quietly back to his kennel now that he had no more morsels to offer him, set out to look round the greenhouses, in the hope of finding Joe Flinders the gardener’s boy; but all was quiet and deserted, so he went on to the paddock and amused himself for some time throwing stones at a broken bottle which some one had apparently thrown over from the Heath, and which had lodged in the branches of an elm-tree which stood next the great oak behind the summer-house.

He tried to hit it, but without success, and suddenly he remembered the toy pistol lying hidden in the hole close by.

Dare he take it out and try it?