Chapter Five.
Plans, Prospects, and a Great Fight.
There is something very enjoyable in awaking in a strange bedroom with a feeling of physical strength and abounding health about one, with a glorious, early sunbeam irradiating the room—especially if it does not shine upon one’s face—with a window opposite, through which you can see a mountain rising through the morning mists, until its summit appears to claim kindred with the skies, and with the consciousness that work is over for a time, and recreation is the order of the day.
Some such thoughts and feelings caused John Barret to smile as he lay flat on his back, the morning after his arrival, with his hands under his head, surveying the low-roofed but cosy apartment which had been allotted to him in the mansion of Kinlossie. But the smile gave place to a grave, earnest expression as his eyes fell upon a framed card, on which was printed, in scarlet and blue and gold, “The earth is the Lords and the fulness thereof.”
“So it is,” thought the youth; “and my power to enjoy it comes from the Lord—my health, my strength, myself. Yet how seldom do I thank Him for the mere fact of a happy existence. God forgive me!”
Although Barret thus condemned himself, we would not have it supposed that he had been a careless unbeliever. His temperament was grave (not by any means gloomy) by nature, and a Christian mother’s love and teaching had, before her early death, deepened his religious impressions.
He was beginning to wonder whether it was Mrs Gordon who had hung the text there, and whether it had been executed by Milly Moss, when the “get up” gong sent forth a sonorous peal, causing him to bound out of bed. The act brought before his eyes another bed—a small one—in a corner of the room reminding him of what he had forgotten, that, the house being full to overflow by the recent accession of visitors, little Joseph, better known as Junkie, shared the room with him.
Junkie was at the moment sleeping soundly, after the manner of the hedgehog—that is, curled up in the form of a ball. It was plain that neither dressing gongs nor breakfast-bells had any effect upon him, for he lay still in motionless slumber.
“Hallo! Junkie, did you hear the gong?” said Barret, pushing the boy gently.