“No!” and Boy laughed.
“Thought not! Well, you’ll know before you go to bed!”
Then came a silence, while the Major read his paper and the train rushed on,—and Boy began thinking, or rather trying to think over the rapid and amazing events of the day.
“I wish I’d said good-bye to Rattling Jack,” he remarked suddenly.
“Oh, do you? And who the deuce is ‘Rattling Jack?’” enquired the Major.
“He is just an old man,” replied Boy—“oh, very old! But he is a good talker and he amuses me often. He has seen a great deal of life.”
At this observation Major Desmond folded up his newspaper, laid it flat on his knee with a bang, and stared hard. “Seen a great deal of life!” What an old-fashioned, weird, and preoccupied look the little fellow had, to be sure! And how thin he was, and brown! What would Miss Letty say of him when she saw him? Would she be glad she had not been able to adopt him, or would she be sorry? These thoughts passed like small lightning flashes over the Major’s brain, and he gave a short impatient sigh. But so far as he was personally concerned he meant to make the best of it all, and on arriving in London that night he not only fulfilled his intention of seeing Boy through a Turkish bath, but he also took him to a tailor’s establishment famous for ready-made clothing, and “rigged him out,” as he termed it, with everything that was necessary for the son of a gentleman. And Boy slept soundly in the little room assigned to him at the Major’s bachelor flat,—his little limbs, lately encrusted with sea-salt that had almost baked itself into his tender flesh, were soothed and softened and rested by the rubbing and polishing he had received at the Turkish bath,—a rubbing and polishing which by-the-bye he had found intensely amusing and delightful, and he slipped into his new little flannel nightgown with a sense of ease and rest and light-heartedness that he had not felt for many a long day. And in his sleep something that had seemed hard and unchildish in him rolled away for the time being, for when he got up the next morning and put on his smart little grey travelling suit and cap to match, and his gold curls, rather short, but washed free of the sea-iodine, were glistening with something of their old brightness over his forehead, he looked more like the “Boy” of his babyhood than he had done for months. He was himself conscious of an alteration in his feelings,—Rattling Jack and his scavenger friends had all glided away like a bad dream or a picture painted on a vanishing screen,—his smiles came easily,—his step was brisk and light,—and while at breakfast with the Major, his laugh rang out with almost as much sweetness and freedom as in the old chuckling days of his affection for “Kiss-Letty.” And then, when they started for the north by the terrible train known as the “Flying Scotchman,” what joy!—what excitement!—what novelty! There was the jolly guard with the strongest of Highland accents—what a splendid fellow he was to be sure! Then there was the other man with the polite countenance and the gold buttons on his coat, who came round respectfully to take orders for luncheon-baskets en route,—he was a very agreeable person too, especially when luncheon-time came and the basket with it. Then there were the wonderful picture-papers with which the Major provided him, together with a fascinating little hamper of fruit, and a box of the finest chocolate. What a heavenly journey!—what an almost inspired “rush” it was from London to Edinburgh—a flight as of the gods! And when Edinburgh was reached, and the Major did not stop there, but took another train on to a place called Callander, where Miss Leslie’s elegant landau awaited them, there followed a drive like a dream through scenery that was surely as beautiful as any fabled fairy-land. Crown upon crown of deep purple hills stretched softly away into the evening distance of a golden sky as clear as amber,—glorious trees nodding drowsily under a weight of clustering scarlet berries—trees which the Major told him were called rowans in Scotland and mountain-ash in England,—tufts and hillocks of heather almost blazing like fire in the after-glow of the set sun—and a sweet mysterious noise of rippling water everywhere—the noise of falling “burnies” leaping from rocky heights, and trickling down into deep recesses of coolness and shadow fringed with bracken and fern. And then the first glimpse of Loch Katrine! That exquisite turn of the road which charms the dullest spectator after passing the Trossachs Hotel,—with Ellen’s Isle standing like a jewel on the shining breast of the peaceful water! Boy’s long pent-up love of the beautiful found vent here in a cry of ecstacy, and he stood up on the seat of the carriage to take in the whole of the matchless panorama. His eyes sparkled,—his little face shone with joy and animation; and seeing how he had almost smiled himself into the real child he was again, the kindly Major was more satisfied, and did not feel so much nervous dread of what Miss Letty might say, when the carriage turned suddenly round into a fine avenue of silvery birches and pine, and bowled up to the door of a long wide house, covered with roses, and set on a terrace overlooking the Loch, where stood the gentle lady upon whom the passing of time had scarcely left a perceptible trace—Miss Letty, as serene and graceful as ever, with the same beneficent look of welcome and soft dove-like glance of eye. At sight of her, Boy let himself go altogether, and flinging reserve and timidity to the winds sprang into her ready arms, and hugged her tight, with a strong inclination to cry, so deeply was he excited. Miss Letty was no less moved as she tenderly embraced him, and it took her a minute or two to conquer her emotion. Then she said,—
“Dear Boy! I am so glad to see you! How you have grown!”
Boy laughed sheepishly and shamefacedly. How he had grown indeed! It seemed quite a mistake to have done it. Why could he not always have stayed a little child and looked at “booful pick-shures” with “Kiss Letty”? And indeed no matter how much we are bound to believe in the wise ordainments of a sublime and perfect Providence, we may ask whether for many a child it would not have been happiest never to have grown up at all. Honestly speaking, we cannot grieve for the fair legions of beloved children who have passed away in their childhood,—we know, even without the aid of Gospel comfort, that it is “far better” with them so. If Boy had been an analyst of feeling he would have known that deep in his sensitive consciousness there was a faint regret that he had even become so old as nine years. It was the first pulsation of that much crueller sense of loss and error which sometimes affects the full-grown man, when looking back to the bygone days of his youth. But Boy, though he was beginning to take himself into his own confidence, and to consider carefully the results of giving way to emotion, had not proceeded so far as to understand all the fine breathings of variable thought that stirred his brain cells as the wind stirs ripples on a pool; he only knew that just now he was both very glad and very sorry—very glad to be again with “Kiss Letty,” very sorry to have “grown” so much as to be somewhat more removed from her than in former time. He hung affectionately on her arm though now, as they went into the house together,—and a sense of “home sweet home” gave his step lightness and his eyes a clear sparkle, as he passed through the pretty hall, adorned in Scottish fashion with great stag antlers and deer heads, and bright clusters of heather and scarlet rowans set on the table as well as in every corner where a touch of colour or brightness seemed necessary,—and then up the broad, softly carpeted stairs to the delightful room which had been prepared for him—a room with a wide window commanding a glorious view of almost the whole glittering expanse of Loch Katrine. And here Margaret awaited him—Margaret, as comely and tidy as of old, with her kind face and spotless apron,—Margaret, who met him with almost the same exclamation as Miss Letty though tuned in different words.
“Bless the lad! How he has grown, to be sure!”