What Timmy Did

by Marie Belloc Lowndes

  WHAT TIMMY DID

  by

  MRS. BELLOC LOWNDES

  Author of "From Out the Vasty Deep," "The Lonely House," "Love andHatred," "Good Old Anna," "The Chink in the Armour," Etc.

  Copyright, 1922,By George H. Doran Company

  WHAT TIMMY DID

  "Deliver my soul from the sword, my darling from the power of thedog."--_Psalms_ xxii, 20.

  CHAPTER I

  The telephone bell rang sharply in the sunlit and charming, if shabby,hall of Old Place.

  To John Tosswill there was always something incongruous, and recurringlystrange, in this queer link between a little country parish mentioned inDomesday Book and the big bustling modern world.

  The bell tinkled on and on insistently, perhaps because it was now noone's special duty to attend to it. But at last the mistress of the housecame running from the garden and, stripping off her gardening gloves,took up the receiver.

  Janet Tosswill was John Tosswill's second wife, and, though over forty,a still young and alert looking woman, more Irish than Scotch inappearance, with her dark hair and blue eyes. But she came of goodHighland stock and was proud of it.

  "London wants you," came the tired, cross voice she knew all too well.

  "I think there must be some mistake. This is Old Place, Beechfield,Surrey. I don't think anyone can be ringing us from London."

  She waited a moment impatiently. Of course it was a mistake! Not a soulin London knew their telephone number. It had never been put on theirnotepaper. Still, she went on listening with the receiver held to herear, and growing more and more annoyed at the futile interruption andwaste of time.

  She was just going to hang up the receiver when all at once theexpression of her face altered. From being good-humoured, if slightlyimpatient, it became watchful, and her eyes narrowed as was their waywhen Janet Tosswill was "upset" about anything. She had suddenly heard,with startling clearness, the words:--"Is that Old Place, Beechfield? Ifso, Mr. Godfrey Radmore would like to speak to Mrs. Tosswill."

  She was so surprised, so taken aback that for a moment she said nothing.At last she answered very quietly:--"Tell Mr. Radmore that Mrs. Tosswillis here waiting on the 'phone."

  There was another longish pause, and then, before anything else happened,Janet Tosswill experienced an odd sensation; it was as if she felt themasterful, to her not over-attractive, presence of Godfrey Radmoreapproaching the other end of the line. A moment later, she knew he wasthere, within earshot, but silent.

  "Is that you, Godfrey? We thought you were in Australia. Have you beenhome long?"

  The answer came at once, in the deep, resonant, once familiar voice--thevoice no one had heard in Old Place for nine years--nine years with thewar having happened in between.

  "Indeed no, Janet! I've only been back a very short time." (She noticedhe did not say how long.) "And I want to know when I may come down andsee you all? I hope you and Mr. Tosswill will believe me when I say itwasn't my fault that I didn't come to Beechfield last year. I hadn't aspare moment!"

  The tone of the unseen speaker had become awkward, apologetic, and thelistener bit her lips--she did not believe in his explanation as to whyhe had behaved with such a lack of gratitude and good feeling lastautumn.

  "We shall be very glad to see you at any time, of course. When can weexpect you?"

  But the welcoming words were uttered very coldly.

  "It's Tuesday to-day; I was thinking of motoring down on Friday orSaturday. I've got a lot of business to do before then. Will that beall right?"

  "Of course it will. Come Friday."

  She was thawing a little, and perhaps he felt this, for there came aneager, yearning note into the full, deep voice which sounded so oddlynear, and which, for the moment, obliterated the long years since she hadheard it last.

  "How's my godson? Flick still in the land of the living, eh?"

  "Thank heaven, yes! That dog's the one thing in the world Timmy caresfor, I sometimes think."

  He felt that she was smiling now.

  She heard the question:--"Another three minutes, sir?" and the hastyanswer:--"Yes, another three minutes," and then, "Still there, Janet?"

  "Of course I am. We'll expect you on Friday, Godfrey, by tea-time, andI hope you'll stay as long as you can. You won't mind having your oldroom?"

  "Rather not!" and then in a hesitating, shamefaced voice:--"I needn'ttell _you_ that to me Old Place _is_ home."

  It was in a very kindly voice that she answered: "I'm glad you still feellike that, Godfrey."

  "Of course I do, and of course I am ashamed of not having written moreoften. I often think of you all--especially of dear old George--" Therecame a pause, then the words:--"I want to ask you a question, Janet."

  Janet Tosswill felt quite sure she knew what that question would be.Before linking up with them all again Godfrey wanted to know certainfacts about George. While waiting for him to speak she had time to tellherself that this would prove that her husband and Betty, the eldest ofher three step-daughters, had been wrong in thinking that Godfrey Radmoreknew that George, Betty's twin, had been killed in the autumn of 1916. Atthat time all correspondence between Radmore and Old Place had ceased fora long time. When it had begun again in 1917, in the form of a chaffingletter and a cheque for five pounds to the writer's godson, Betty hadsuggested that nothing should be said of George's death in Timmy'sanswer. Of course Betty's wish had been respected, the more so that Janetherself felt sure that Godfrey did not know. Why, he and George--dear,sunny-natured George--had been like fond brothers in the long ago, beforeGodfrey's unfortunate love-affair with Betty.

  And so it was that when she heard his next words they took her entirelyby surprise, for it was such an unimportant, as well as unexpected,question that the unseen speaker asked.

  "Has Mrs. Crofton settled down at The Trellis House yet?"

  "She's arriving to-day, I believe. When she first thought of coming hereshe wrote John such a nice letter, saying she was a friend of yours, andthat you had told her about Beechfield. Luckily, The Trellis House was tolet, so John wrote and told her about it."

  Then, at last, came a more intimate question. The man's voice at theother end of the telephone became diffident--hesitating:--"Are you allright? Everything as usual?"

  She answered, drily. "Everything's quite as usual, thank you. Beechfieldnever changes. Since you were last here there have only been two newcottages built." She paused perceptibly, and then went on:--"I think thatTimmy told you that Betty was with the Scottish Women's Hospital duringthe war? She's got one of the best French decorations."

  Should she say anything about George? Before she could make up her mindshe heard the words--"You can't go on any longer now. Time's up." AndRadmore called out hastily:--"Till Friday then--so long!"

  Janet Tosswill hung up the receiver; but she did not move away from thetelephone at once. She stood there, wondering painfully whether she hadbetter go along and tell Betty _now_, or whether it would be better towait till, say, lunch, when all the young people would be gatheredtogether? After all Betty had been nineteen when her engagement toGodfrey Radmore had been broken off, and so very much had happened sincethen.

  And then, in a sense, her mind was made up for her by the fact that ashadow fell across the floor of the hall, and looking up, she saw her oldfriend and confidant, Dr. O'Farrell, blocking up the doorway with his bigburly body.

  "D'you remember Godfrey Radmore?" she asked as their hands met.

  "Come now, you're joking surely. Remember Radmore? I've good cause to; Idon't know whether I ever told you--" there came a slight, very slightnote of embarrassment into his hearty Irish voice--"that I wrote to thegood fellow just after the Armistice, about our Pat. That the boy's doingas well out in Brisbane as he is, is largel
y owing to Radmore's goodoffices."

  Mrs. Tosswill was surprised, and not quite pleased. She wondered why Dr.O'Farrell had not told her at the time that he was writing to Godfrey.She still subconsciously felt that Godfrey Radmore belonged to Old Placeand to no one else in Beechfield.

  "I didn't know about Pat," she said slowly. "But you'll be able to thankhim in person now, for he's coming on Friday to stay with us."

  "Is he now?" The shrewd Irishman looked sharply into her troubled face."Well, well, you'll have to let bygones be bygones--eh, Mrs. Toss? I takeit he's a great man now."

  "I don't think money makes for greatness," she said.

  "Don't you?" he queried drily. "I do! Come admit, woman, that you'resorry _now_ you didn't let Betty take the risk?"

  "I'm not at all sorry--" she cried. "It was all his fault. He was sucha strange, rough, violent young fellow!"

  The words trembled on the old doctor's lips--"Perhaps it will all comeright now!" But he checked himself, for in his heart of hearts he didnot in the least believe that it would all come right. He knew wellenough that Godfrey Radmore, after that dramatic exit to Australia, hadcut himself clean off from all his friends. He was coming back now asthat wonderful thing to most people--a millionaire. Was it likely, sothe worldly-wise old doctor asked himself, that a man whose wholecircumstances had so changed, ever gave a thought to that old boyish loveaffair with Betty Tosswill?--violent, piteous and painful as the affairhad been. But had Betty forgotten? About that the doctor had his doubts,but he kept them strictly to himself.

  He changed the subject abruptly. "It isn't scarlet fever at theMortons--only a bit of a red rash. I thought you'd like to know.

  "It's good of you to have come and told me," she exclaimed. "I confessI did feel anxious, for Timmy was there the whole of the day beforeyesterday."

  "Ah! and how's me little friend?"

  Janet Tosswill looked around--but no, there was no one in the corridor ofwhich the door, giving into the hall, was wide open.

  "He's gone to do an errand for me in the village."

  "The boy is much more normal, eh?" He looked at her questioningly.

  "He still says that he sees things," she admitted reluctantly, "thoughhe's rather given' up confiding in me. He tells old Nanna extraordinarytales, but then, as you know, Timmy was always given to romancing, and ofcourse Nanna believes every word he says and in a way encourages him."

  The doctor looked at Timmy's mother with a twinkle in his eye. "Nannaisn't the only one," he observed. "I was told in the village just nowthat Master Timmy had scared away the milk from Tencher's cow."

  A look of annoyance came over Mrs. Tosswill's face. "I shall have tospeak to Timmy," she exclaimed. "He's much too given to threatening thevillage people with ill fortune if they have done anything he thinkswrong or unkind. The child was awfully upset the other day because hediscovered that the Tenchers had drowned a half-grown kitten."

  "He's a queer little chap," observed the old doctor, "a broth of a boy,if ye'll allow me to say so--I'd be proud of Timmy if I were his mother,Mrs. Toss!"

  "Perhaps I _am_ proud of him," she said smiling, "but still I always tellJohn he's a changeling child--so absurdly unlike all the others."

  "Ah, but that's where _you_ come in, me good friend. 'Twas a witch youmust have had among ye're ancestresses in the long ago."

  He gripped her hand, and went out to his two-seater, his mind still fullof his friend's strange little son.

  Then all at once--he could not have told you why--Dr. O'Farrell's mindswitched off to something very different, and he went back into the hallagain.

  "A word more with ye, Mrs. Tosswill. What sort of a lady has taken TheTrellis House, eh? We don't even know her name."

  "She's a Mrs. Crofton--oddly enough, a friend or acquaintance of GodfreyRadmore. He seems to have first met her during the war, when he wasquartered in Egypt. She wrote to John and asked if there was a house tolet in Beechfield, quoting Godfrey as having told her it was a delightfulvillage."

  "And how old may she be?"

  "Her husband was a Colonel Crofton, so I suppose she's middle-aged. She'sonly been a widow three months--if as long."

  Janet Tosswill waited till Dr. O'Farrell was well away, and then shebegan walking down the broad corridor which divided Old Place. It wassuch a delightful, dignified, spacious house, and very dear to them all,yet Janet was always debating within herself whether they ought to go onliving in it, now that they had become so poor.

  When she came to the last door on the left, close to the baize doorWhich shut off the commons from the living rooms, she waited a moment.Then, turning the handle, she walked into what was still called theschoolroom, though Timmy never did his lessons there.

  Betty Tosswill, the eldest of John Tosswill's three daughters, wassitting at a big mid-Victorian writing-table, examining the house-books.She had just discovered two "mistakes" in the milkman's account, and shefelt perhaps unreasonably sorry and annoyed. Betty had a generous,unsuspicious outlook on human nature, and a meeting with petty dishonestywas always a surprise. She looked up with a very friendly, welcomingsmile as her step-mother came into the room. They were very good friends,these two, and they had a curiously close bond in Timmy, the only childof the one and the half-brother of the other. Betty was now twenty-eightand there were only two persons in the world whom she had loved in herlife as well as she now loved her little brother.

  As her step-mother came close up to her--"Janet? What's the matter?"she exclaimed, and as the other made no answer, a look of fear cameover the girl's face. She got up from her chair. "Don't look like that,Janet,--you're frightening me!"

  The older woman tried to smile. "To tell the truth, Betty, I've hadrather a shock. You heard the telephone bell ring?"

  "You mean some minutes ago?"

  "Yes."

  "Who was it?"

  "Godfrey Radmore, speaking from London."

  "Is that all? I was afraid that something had happened to Timmy!" But,even so, the colour flamed up into Betty Tosswill's face.

  Her step-mother looked away out of the window as she went on:--"It wasstupid of me to have been so surprised, but somehow I thought he wasstill in Australia."

  "He was in England last year." Betty, not really knowing what she wasdoing, bent over the peccant milkman's book.

  "He's coming down here on Friday. I think he realises that I haven'tforgiven him for not coming to see us last year. Still we must letbygones be bygones."

  Then she wondered with a sharp touch of self-reproach what had made hersay such a stupid thing--a thing which might have, and indeed had, twosuch different meanings? What she had _meant_ had been that she mustforget the hurt surprise she and her husband had felt that GodfreyRadmore, on two separate occasions, had deliberately avoided coming downfrom London to what had been, after all, so long his home; in fact, as hehimself had said just now, the only home he had ever known.

  But what was this Betty was saying?--her face rather drawn and white, allthe bright colour drifted out of it--"Of course we must, Janet! BesidesGodfrey was not to blame--not at the last."

  Janet knew what Betty meant. That at the end it was she who had failedhim. But when their engagement had been broken off, Godfrey had beenworse than penniless--in debt, and entirely through his own fault. Hehad gambled away what little money he had, and it had ended in his goingoff to Australia--alone.

  Then an astounding thing had happened. Godfrey had had a fortune left himby an eccentric old man in whose employment he had been as secretary fora while. His luck still holding, he had gone through most of the war,including Gallipoli, with only one wound, which had left no ill effects.A man so fortunate ought not to have neglected his old friends.

  Janet Tosswill, the step-mother completely merging into the friend, cameforward, and put her arms round the girl's shoulders. "Look here, Betty.Wouldn't you rather go away? I don't suppose he'll stay longer thanMonday or Tuesday--"

  "I shouldn't think of going away! I expect he's
forgotten all about thatold affair. It's a long time ago, Janet--nine years. We were both soyoung, that I've forgotten too--in a sense." And then, as she saw thatthe other was far more moved than she herself was outwardly, sherepeated: "It really has faded away, almost out of sight. Think ofall that has happened since then!"

  The other muttered, "Yes, that's true," and Betty went on, a littlebreathlessly, "I'll tell you who'll be pleased--that's Timmy. He's got aregular hero-worship of Godfrey." She was smiling now. "I hope he askedafter his godson?"

  "Indeed he did. After Flick too! By the way he wanted to know if Mrs.Crofton was settled down in The Trellis House. I wonder if she's anAustralian?"

  "I don't think so," said Betty. "I think he met them in Egypt during thewar. He mentioned them in one of his letters to Timmy, and then, when hewas in England last year, he must have stayed with them, for that's whereFlick came from. Colonel Crofton bred terriers. I remember reading Timmya long letter signed 'Cecil Crofton' telling him all about how to manageFlick, and he mentioned Godfrey."

  "I don't remember that--I must have been away."

  They were both glad to have glided on to a safe, indifferent subject.

  "I'll go back to my carnations now, but first I'd better tell your fatherthe news."

  "You--you--needn't remind father of anything that happened years ago,Janet--need you?"

  Janet Tosswill shook her head, and yet when she had shut the door behindher in her husband's study, almost the first words she uttered, afterhaving told him of Godfrey Radmore's coming visit, were:--"I shall never,never forgive him for the way he treated Betty. I hate the thought ofhaving to be nice to him--I wish Timmy wasn't his godson!"

  She spoke the words breathlessly, defiantly, standing before her oldJohn's untidy writing table.

  As she spoke, he rather nervously turned some papers over under hishand:--"I don't know that he behaved as badly as you think, my dear.Neither of them had any money, and at that time he had no prospects."

  "He'd thrown away his prospects! Then I can't forgive him for hisbehaviour last year--never coming down to see us, I mean. It was so--soungrateful! Handsome presents don't make up for that sort of thing. Iused to long to send the things back."

  "I don't think you're fair," began Mr. Tosswill deprecatingly. "He didwrite me a very nice letter, Janet, explaining that it was impossible forhim to come."

  "Well, I suppose we must make the best of it--particularly as he saysthat he's come back to England for good."

  She went out of the room, and so into the garden--back to the border shehad left unwillingly but at which she now glanced down with a sensationof disgust. She felt thoroughly ruffled and upset--a very unusualcondition for her to be in, for Janet Tosswill was an equable andhappy-natured woman, for all her affectionate and sensitive heart.

  She told herself that it was true the whole world had altered in the lastnine years--everything had altered except Beechfield. The little Surreyvillage seemed to her mind exactly the same as it was when she had comethere, as a bride, fourteen years ago, except that almost everybody init, from being comfortably off, had become uncomfortably poor. Then allat once, she smiled. The garden of Old Place was very different from thegarden she had found when she first came there. It had been a melancholy,neglected, singularly ugly garden--the kind of garden which only costlybedding-out had made tolerable in some prosperous early Victorian day.Now it was noted for its charm and beauty even among the many beautifulgardens of the neighbourhood, and during the War she had made quite a lotof money selling flowers and fruit for the local Red Cross. Now she wastrying to coax her husband to take one of the glebe fields on a longlease in order to start a hamper trade in fruit, vegetables and flowers.Dolly, the one of her three step-daughters whom she liked least, was fondof gardening, in a dull plodding way, and might be trained to such work.

  But try though she did to forget Godfrey Radmore, her mind swungceaselessly back to the man with whom she had just had that curious talkon the telephone. She was sorry--not glad as a more worldly woman wouldhave been--that Godfrey Radmore was coming back into their life.