Silverthorns

by Mrs. Molesworth

Mildred disliked to see her occupied. And the next day was Sunday,when, as everybody knows, all the postal arrangements in London go tosleep.

  So it was not till Tuesday morning that Claudia's letter was put intoCharlotte's hands at the breakfast-table.

  "A letter for me," she exclaimed, with some excitement and surprise; forCharlotte's letters, except on the very rare occasions when she was awayfrom home for a little, were few and far between. "I wonder what it is.I wish it could be anything to please poor Jerry," she went on speakinghalf to herself.

  For since they had brought him home, Jerry had been ill--confined to bednow for the best part of a week, and it seemed very melancholy withouthim, even in that busy household. It had not done him any harm to bringhim straight home that first day; the harm was done already; the chillhad given him a bad feverish cold, and though it was not anything veryserious he was much weakened by it.

  "He must get up his strength, or we shall be afraid to let him out againtill the fine weather comes," the doctor said; "and that would be a sadthing for a boy of his age."

  Then when he went down-stairs with Mrs Waldron to write a prescriptionfor a tonic, he sat looking thoughtful and pre-occupied for a minute ortwo. Jerry's mother was a little alarmed.

  "You don't think there is anything much the matter with him?" she said.

  "No, oh no; he has rather lost ground in his general health the last fewmonths. He needed a fresh start or a fillip, and unluckily he has, soto speak, had one the wrong way. But there is nothing to be uneasyabout, only considering how wonderfully he has improved in the last fewyears, I should like to see him still stronger."

  "Yes," Mrs Waldron agreed; "and in another year or so he will begetting into a higher class at school, and he will have to work harder,that will be trying for him."

  "Exactly," said the doctor, who had known Jerry since he was a baby;"now's the time for him to get up his strength. You couldn't by anypossibility, I suppose, manage to send him out of England, to some ofthe mild health places, for a winter? It would be the making of him."

  Mrs Waldron shook her head. She saw no chance whatever of such a thingand said so.

  "Ah, well," said the doctor, "we must do our best. I dare say he'llpull up again. It was only an idea that struck me."

  And when he had gone, and Jerry's mother went up-stairs again, it struckher too that the boy did look sadly in want of something of the kind.

  "If only we were rich," she thought. "When we are all well it does notseem to press so--it is illness that brings small means home to onesorely."

  Charlotte opened her letter, and glanced through it; then made a littleexclamation. She had her wish. It was something that would pleaseJerry.

  "What is it?" asked her mother.

  "It is,"--Charlotte began with a very slight shade of reluctance--"it isa letter from Miss Meredon to ask how Jerry is."

  "It is very nice of her to have thought of it," said Mrs Waldron.

  "She writes, she says, by Lady Mildred's wish," said Charlotte; "theyare in London."

  "Well, you may run up-stairs and tell Jerry about it. It will pleasehim," said her mother.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

  LADY MILDRED MAKES UP HER MIND.

  Jerry was sitting up in bed; he was so far better that no seriousillness was now to be feared, but he was weak and depressed, feelingvaguely "sorry for himself," not quite sure what he wanted, nor eager toprofit by the doctor's permission to get up in the afternoon, and godown to have tea in the drawing-room.

  He glanced up listlessly as Charlotte came in.

  "I have an hour still before I need to go to school," she said, "so Ihave come up to you, Jerry: there is a letter about you this morning."

  "About me!" Jerry exclaimed; "anything about school, do you mean? Theyknow I'm ill."

  "No, not from school; it's from Miss Meredon, to ask how you are;they're in London."

  "How nice of her!" said Jerry, his eyes brightening. "I'm sure you mustsee, Charlotte, how nice she is."

  "Yes," Charlotte allowed; "she is kind and good; I'll never say she'snot. But it can't be difficult to be nice when one has everything onewants, like her," she added, reverting to her old strain.

  Jerry looked disappointed.

  "I think you are rather unfair, Charlotte," he said. "If she wasn'tnice you'd say she was spoilt and selfish, and as she _is_ nice you sayit's no credit to her. How can you tell that it isn't very difficult tobe nice and kind to others when one has everything one wants oneself?_Papa_ says it is very difficult indeed not to get spoilt when one'slike that."

  "I'd like to be tried," said Charlotte.

  "Besides," pursued Jerry, "do you know I'm not quite sure that she _has_everything the way we fancied."

  Charlotte looked up eagerly.

  "What do you mean?" she said. "What can there be that she hasn't got?We _know_ she's very rich and clever and pretty; that's a good deal, anyway."

  "But I'm almost sure she has to be away from the people she loves most,"said Jerry; "I know it by some things she said. And I could tell by herways that she's used to brothers and sisters--I fancy there's a lot ofthem."

  "She is rather to be pitied for that," said Charlotte half-laughingly,"though it can't be so bad when people are rich. And then as LadyMildred has adopted her what can it matter?"

  "I shouldn't like to be adopted away from you all, however grand andrich I was to be," said Jerry, "and I don't believe you'd like iteither, whatever you say. You make yourself out worse than you are,Charlotte."

  "Well, read the letter," she said, and Jerry did so. As he gave it backto Charlotte he grew rather red.

  "Do you see?" he said; "they're not coming back--not till afterChristmas. Charlotte, you're sure of the German prize."

  Charlotte's face lighted up.

  "I did not notice that," she said; "I thought she said something aboutstaying a few days."

  "No," said Jerry, "she says, `We shall not return to Silverthorns tillafter Christmas, perhaps a few days after, and perhaps not so soon.'"

  Charlotte drew a deep breath.

  "I see," she said. "My composition is nearly finished. Oh, Jerry, howI hope I shall get the prize now."

  "You are sure to," he said shortly.

  "Unless," Charlotte went on, "unless she possibly finishes it there, andsends it back by post."

  "Nonsense," said Jerry; "I am sure she won't. She wouldn't have timefor one thing, and--"

  "What?"

  "Oh, I don't think she's the sort of girl to set herself so to win aprize when she's been so short a time at school with you all," saidJerry.

  "No; perhaps not. Of course it _can't_ matter to her as it does to me.I dare say she's forgotten all about it now she's up in London amusingherself," said Charlotte in a satisfied tone which Jerry found ratherprovoking. "I don't mind her not trying--I mean I'm not too proud tosay I know she would have won it if she had. I shall always say so, forshe is much further on and much cleverer than any of us. And some ofthem have been working very hard lately. It isn't as if I had no oneworth trying against."

  Jerry said no more. He was glad for Charlotte, but he did feel it hardthat Claudia's self-sacrifice, which had been just as great and real asif after events had not rendered it unnecessary, should remain for everunknown and unappreciated.

  "I wonder if I shall _never_ be able to tell Charlotte," he said tohimself. "Long after, perhaps, when she's left off caring about schoolthings. I should like her to know some day," and his blue eyes gazedout into the future wistfully.

  "What are you thinking of, Jerry?" said Charlotte suddenly. "Why do youlook so melancholy? The doctor says you may get up this afternoon."

  "I know he did," said Jerry, "but I don't think I want to. I'm tootired," and with a little sigh of weariness he lay down again on hispillows.

  Charlotte looked at him in distress.

  "Oh, dear," she said; "how unlucky that snowy day was, though I supposethings might have turned out wor
se."

  "Yes," replied Jerry with complacency; "I might have had rheumaticfever, or brain fever, perhaps. But, Charlotte, it wasn't because I wasfeverish that I heard those noises that night; I _know_ it wasn't. AndI don't believe papa thinks so either. It can't be true about only amember of the family hearing it,