Left with a trust

by Nellie Hellis

But unexpected trouble came upon the Graingers when little curly-headed Phil was nearly twelve months old. One evening Mr. Grainger came in from the City with a troubled face, and, calling his wife apart, told her he had become responsible for a bill for £150. He had been persuaded to put his name to it by a friend, who had assured him he would run no risk, as the money would be ready long before it was wanted. It was only, he said, that he could not lay his hand upon so large a sum just at that time, and if the old playmate of his boyhood and companion of his schooldays would do him the kindness of going through the mere form of standing his surety, he would always be grateful. Two days before the bill fell due, this so-called friend and distant relative became bankrupt.

There were those who said Mr. Grainger ought never to have yielded to such persuasions. But he was a kind-hearted man, and, judging others by his own honesty and uprightness of dealing, he had signed his name trusting that no ill would befall.

Neither husband nor wife had any private means, so to meet the bill Mr. Grainger had to borrow money on his life insurance and upon the furniture of his house. Retrenchment, of course, became necessary. Edgar left school, and thanks to the good word of one of the heads of the bank in which Mr. Grainger had been clerk for many years, a situation was obtained for him in a noted hosiery warehouse in Wood Street. Taking his inexperience into consideration, he received a remarkably good salary, and Edgar, though his life did not seem to be shaping itself after his own inclinations, was glad to be able to help the parents who had done so much for him.

Then Giles and Olive were also taken from school, and they, with Lancie and Lottie, become their mother's pupils, while Dora, who was a fair musician, gave the two little girls music lessons. Husband and wife weathered the struggle better than they expected, but Mr. Grainger knew it would be a long time before he would have paid the last shilling he had borrowed. For notwithstanding the numerous ways in which his wife curtailed the household expenses, Edgar's weekly wages, and the money he himself earned by evening employment at book-keeping, they had only paid off £50 at the end of the year, so that they were still £100 in debt.

They would have paid off more had they not been obliged to incur a doctor's bill. Lancie had been weaker than usual that year, and they could not let their child suffer without giving him all the relief in their power. Had it not been for the little cripple's sake, they would certainly have removed into a smaller and lower-rented house, but the doctor said that his life was probably owing to the warm aspect, and open healthy situation of Madeira Street, which was within a twenty minutes' walk of Regent's Park. And what could his parents do but decide, that, whatever other sacrifices were entailed, they must stay in the home in which they had lived since the twins were born.

Then, quite unexpectedly, Mr. Grainger had been asked if he would go to Sydney, and remain while the head clerk in the branch bank there was absent on a twelve months' leave. The sum he was offered over his regular salary, and what he could save from his allowance for travelling and living, would more than free him from debt. So though it was a hard trial to part from his wife and children, he made up his mind to accept the proposal.

Tea was later than usual that evening in order that the entire family might be present, and a cake—a much rarer luxury than it once was—graced the centre of the table. All the children were inclined to be dull and depressed, even down to little Phil, who had been crying in the afternoon because "Fader was doing away across the big sea, and perhaps he'd tumble out of the ship and det drowned."

But Mr. Grainger was determined that the last meal they would all take together should be a cheerful one, and putting aside his own feelings, he made such jokes, and laughed and chatted so gaily, that very soon the elder children caught his spirit, and all joined in the mirth he provoked. Nobody would have guessed what heavy hearts some of those smiling faces concealed.

But when the table had been cleared by the not very efficient little servant, and chairs were drawn round the fire, which a frosty night in the early part of the year made so agreeable, the conversation became more serious. Instinctively the children left two empty seats side by side for their parents. Then Phil climbed into his father's arms, and that being his favourite resting-place, lay quietly and happily there till the low hum of voices lulled him into a slumber. None of the others felt sleepy, notwithstanding that the talk lasted till the clock in the passage struck nine—not even Lottie, though she was glad to make Dora's shoulder a pillow for her head.

Would those boys and girls over forget that talk! They thought not, at any rate. With the exception of the baby, they all knew why their father had made up his mind to leave them, and there was first of all a little joyful anticipation of the time when he could return, and they would "all be so happy again," and not obliged to save every possible penny.