'Me and Nobbles'

by Amy Le Feuvre

  Chapter IX.

  'SHE HAS LEFT US!'

  Of course Lady Isobel's letter had to be answered, and the wonderfulnews told of Bobby's change of home. His letter took him a long timeto write, and True helped him a great deal. Mrs. Allonby sent it as itwas, with all the imperfections of spelling and many a blot anderasure; but she added a little note herself, as Bobby's left much tobe explained.

  'MY DEAR LADY FREND--

  'Me and Nobbles is kite wel, so is True. Father came at last. Hetuked me in a motor home. I have a knew mother. She is very nice. Wesaw sum reel wite gates, but they was loked. We mene to find sum more.Me and Nobbles runned away and hid under the sete. We did not go backno more. Plese come and see me in this house, and giv Master Mort'mermy best luv. I warnt to see him agen. I went in the rode to mete myfather and he comed, but I did not no him. Thank you verry much forthe piksher. I shall like it wen it comes and so will True. Shespells my leter for me.

  Your loving boy, BOBBY.'

  And when the letter was sent, Bobby set himself to watch for hispicture.

  It came very soon, and to his eyes was a miracle of beauty.

  Mrs. Allonby had it framed for him and hung up over his bed in thedressing-room. He was never tired of looking at it, and what pleasedhim most was a little boy about his own age just being let inside thegates by a kind faced angel.

  'Look at his white dress; not one tiny spot, Nobbles,' he wouldexclaim. 'That's me going in, and I shall walk right up the street toGod like that.'

  There was a dark corner in the picture, and two weeping people beingturned away. In fact it was as nearly like the original as it couldbe, only it was much bigger, and the gates were lovely in their goldand white paint.

  True admired it as much as he did, and would often come and stand andlook at it with delight and awe.

  'I wonder if I have a right to go inside,' she said. 'I love having aright to do things, then no one can stop me.'

  'It's wearing a white robe gives you right,' said Bobby.

  'Yes, and doing the Commandments,' responded True quickly; 'that's thediffercult part. But I mean to be inside, not outside, I tell youthat!'

  Many delightful excursions did the children have with their father, butthe summer days began to shorten and the sun appeared less often, andMrs. Allonby kept them more at home. She herself did not get stronger.Her appetite failed. Gradually she came downstairs less, and kept inbed more. Mr. Allonby grew careworn and anxious, the doctor appearedvery often, and still Bobby and True played together gleefully, withlittle idea of the black shadow that was going to fall upon their happyhome.

  Then one bright sunny morning True asked Mr. Allonby if he would givethem a ride in his car.

  He looked at her for an instant in silence, then said slowly:

  'No, we must do without motor drives now; I am going to sell it.'

  'Sell it! Oh, dad, you mustn't!'

  'I must,' he said; 'I want to give your mother all the comfort and easeI can, and we are poor people. Besides, I shall have no heart foranything now.'

  'Why?' questioned True.

  'Don't ask so many questions,' Mr. Allonby said sharply, and he was soseldom vexed with them that the children looked at each other withdismayed faces.

  Later that morning Mr. Allonby was wandering moodily up and down hisstrip of garden smoking his pipe; his head was bent, his hands looselyclasped behind him. Suddenly he felt a soft little hand take hold ofone of his.

  'Father, dear, do tell me about your sad finks. I know they're sadfrom your face.'

  It was Bobby. His father looked down upon him for a minute, thenwithout a word led him into a field which ran up at the back of theirgarden. He paced the whole length of the field with his little sonbefore he spoke again, and then, leaning against a five-barred gate, hesaid heavily:

  'I can't hold up against it, sonny! I was a worthless creature tillshe took me in hand, and now, when she is making something of me, whenwe are going to peg away together at the book which is going to makeour fortune, she is going to leave me. I can't live without her! Ishall go to the dogs!'

  'Is it mother you mean? Oh, father, we won't let her leave us! Whydoes she want to go?'

  'She doesn't; it is cruel fate. Bobby, my boy, life is an utterfailure. Oh! I don't know what I am saying, or why I am talking likethis. Your mother is dying fast, can't you see it? I hoped she wasgetting stronger, but the doctor says it has only been her strong willthat has got her downstairs at all. Oh, Helen, you're too young, toofull of life and spirit to be taken! I will not believe it!'

  He folded his arms on the top bar of the gate and dropped his head uponthem with a groan. Bobby stood perfectly still; the news was soastounding, so bewildering, that he could hardly take it in.

  'Is mother going through the golden gate now?' he asked.

  There was no answer. Then Bobby climbed up on the gate with a longingdesire to comfort his father. He had never seen a grown-up person introuble before, and it was with the greatest effort he preventedhimself from bursting into tears.

  'Father, dear, don't cry! It's a lovely thing when God calls people.Mother tolded us herself last Sunday it was. And p'raps God will takeher for a visit, and then send her back again. Is she reely going intoheaven soon? Oh, wouldn't it be nice if we could all go with her! MayI run and tell True; and may we just ask mother about it a little?'

  'Leave me, child! Run away!' And when his pattering footsteps haddied away Bobby's father said in bitterness of spirit: 'Heartlesslittle scamp! He is enjoying the sensation of it!'

  But he misunderstood Bobby. The child had never seen death, and didnot understand it in the least; his vision was steadfastly fixed on thelife hereafter. What wonder that the glories of it eclipsed thepresent shadow!

  True received his news first incredulously, then stamped and stormed inhelpless passion.

  'Mother shan't die! She shan't be put in the ground! Bobby, we'llkeep her from going. Oh, mother, mother! we couldn't live without you!'

  A burst of tears followed, in which Bobby joined her from verysympathy. Then softly they stole up the steep narrow stairs to theirmother's room. They met Margot at the door.

  'Oh dear!' she sighed, as she saw their faces, 'I s'ppose your fatherhas been and told you. The missis is quite nicely this morning, andwants to see you. Now if you go in, no tears, mind--nothing to makeher sad. You must make believe you're glad she's going, same as I do.'

  A husky sob broke in the faithful servant's voice. She signed to thechildren to go in, and turned away abruptly herself.

  Hand in hand, on tiptoe, they stole to their mother's bedside.

  Surely she was better with such a pink colour in her cheeks! Shesmiled brightly at them, but her voice was weak and low.

  'I haven't seen you for two days, darlings! Tell me what you've beendoing.'

  'I've been in the field with father,' said Bobby, taking one of Mrs.Allonby's hands in his, and very gently raising it to his lips to kiss.'We've comed to tell you that we are very glad you're going through thegates, but we would like you to ask God to let you come back to us verysoon.'

  Sudden tears came to Mrs. Allonby's eyes.

  'I think you must come to me,' she said almost in a whisper.

  'We should like to do that very much, said Bobby bravely. 'True and meare ready, we fink.'

  'But, darlings,' went on Mrs. Allonby, 'you must not feel impatient ifGod does not send for you just yet. I want my little daughter to growup to be a comfort to her father, to keep the house tidy, do hismending, have comfortable little meals for him, and let him always feelhe has a home and a little daughter waiting for him.'

  'And me?' questioned Bobby eagerly. 'What must I do for him? Ibelongs to him besides True.'

  'You belong to him more than True does. I want you to be his littlecompanion. Go out with him, talk to him, tell him about your lovelypicture, let him feel he cannot get on without you. Oh, Bobby, dear,you love your
father with all your heart and soul! Show it to him byyour life. I want you two to be inseparable. I shall pray you may be.'

  A glorious light dawned in Bobby's eyes. He caught Mrs. Allonby'smeaning.

  'I'll die for him if I can,' he said fervently; and deep down in hisheart he meant what he said.

  True stood looking at her mother with sadly pathetic eyes.

  'When are you going, mother? Oh, I think God might do without you alittle longer. I won't pretend I want you to go; I won't.'

  'My little girl, I know you don't want me to leave you; and at first Ifelt just like you do. But I have been lying here talking to God, andHe has been talking to me, and now I know that He makes no mistakes,and is doing the very best for all of us by taking me now. I shalllook for you and father, and one day we shall be all together again, Ihope, in that beautiful country that now seems so far away.'

  There was a little silence in the room; then Mrs. Allonby turned toBobby.

  'Bobby, dear, will you say me that verse in that old Italian Bible ofyour grandmother's? Somehow, now I am so near the gates, it seems tobring me more comfort than our English version. I have so often brokenGod's commandments. But the other--is so simple--so comforting!'

  Bobby repeated his favourite verse with glad assurance.

  '"Blessed are they that wash their robes in the blood of the Lamb, thatthey may have right to the tree of life, and enter in through the gatesinto the City."'

  'Yes,' said Mrs. Allonby when he had finished, 'when we come near thegates, Bobby, and all our life rises before us with all our sins, it isthe thought of the Lamb's precious blood that brings us peace andcourage. I like the verse about doing His commandments for life; butfor death your verse is far and away the best.'

  The children could hardly follow this. True climbed upon the bed andsat close to her mother.

  'Is it a very nice thing to die, mother?' she asked.

  'My darling, it is nice to feel that our dear Saviour is holding metight. "Lo, I am with you alway," He says to me. And so I am content.'

  'Oh,' said Bobby, 'I should like to see the gates open and let you in.Will you walk up the street by those lovely trees? And will you cometo the gates to meet us when it's our time?'

  Mrs. Allonby smiled her answer, and Margot now crept softly in and toldthe children they must go.

  'I must have a kiss from each of them,' Mrs. Allonby said feebly. 'Idon't think--I never know, Margot, whether I shall get through anothernight.'

  So they kissed her, and reluctantly left the room. That was a strange,long day to them. Mr. Allonby came in and spent the rest of the day inhis wife's room. The children had to go to bed without wishing himgood-night. Bobby unhung his picture and placed it on thedressing-table opposite his bed, where he could look at it. In theearly morning he lay gazing at it with fascinated eyes. He followed inthought his mother's arrival there, her entrance through the gates, andher triumphal march up to the shining, golden throne in the distance.He seemed to hear the blast of trumpets, the rapt singing of the angelsattending her, and he was completely lost in his vision when he wassuddenly roused by his father's entrance. He looked strangely untidyand wretched, his little boy thought. Bobby was peculiarly susceptibleto outside appearances. His father was dressed in his ordinary tweedsuit, but his eyes were haggard, his hair rough, his white collarcrumpled, and his face heated and tear-stained.

  He came in impulsively and threw himself on his knees by his child'sbed.

  'Oh, Bobby, little chap, she has gone, she has left me, and I'vepromised to meet her again! We must help each other. May God Himselfteach me, for I'm not fit to teach you. I don't know how I shall getthrough life without her. I always felt that since her accident shehas been too good to live. She never made one murmur.'

  Bobby opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, and tears crowded intohis eyes.

  'Is she really gone, father? Oh, how could God take her so quick? Idid want to say a proper good-bye. Look, father, dear, at my picsher.Is she inside by this time, do you think? How long does it take to goto heaven?'

  Mr. Allonby took up his little son's picture and gazed at it with keeninterest, then he put it down with a heavy sigh.

  'Yes, she's there right enough, sonny. I don't doubt that. Shall wesay a little prayer together--you and I--for I feel quite unable forwhat is before me.'

  So the grown-up man knelt by the small bed, and Bobby jumped up andknelt by his side, and in very broken, faltering accents he prayed:

  'Merciful God, have pity on me and my children; be with us now she hasleft us. Help me to do my duty; forgive my selfish life. I want to bedifferent; change me; set me right; make me what she wanted me to be.Bless this boy here, make him a better man than his father. And thelittle motherless girl--how can I take care of her? Have pity and helpus all for Christ's sake. Amen.'

  It was a prayer that Bobby never forgot all his life, and he neverspoke of it to anyone. Childlike, he kept it wrapped up in his heart.He was puzzled at his father's distress; he thought no grown-up personever cried; but his whole being quivered afresh with loving devotion tothe father who now had only himself and True to comfort him.