in athousand--though he was that weakly he was hardly fit for work--hebrought the little 'uns, five of 'em, all under fourteen, to thisplace. 'We shan't be known at Longcross, father,' he says, 'and I'llwork for 'em all till you're out.' So he come here. And yesterday theycome to me in the jail, and they says, 'Bennett, we find you'reinnocent. The man what took the fagots, he's up and confessed, and hesays as you've had nothing to do with it.' So they wrote me this paperto say I'm pardoned, as they call it, and I come away; but theycouldn't give me back the three months of my life."
"No," said Mr. Fairfax; "you have suffered indeed. But I trust thateven yet you may find good come out of evil, as it so often does. Wehave come to know and respect Stephen, and as soon as he is well heshall be moved into a comfortable house, which I have now to let, andwhich is at your disposal, if you like to take it. Other help, too, Ihope to be able to render you."
Thus talking, they arrived at the hospital. Stephen had not made muchprogress, and was still alarmingly weak. Scanty food and constantanxiety had told terribly on his delicate constitution. But when hesaw his father, and heard that he had been set free, and declaredinnocent, a new life seemed to come into him.
"I shall get well now, father," he said; "I feel I shall--only myhead's so bad where the blow came that I can't think much. But thatdoesn't matter now; you'll look after the little 'uns. 'Twas thehaving all them on me, and thinking about you, that seemed to crush medown; though I knew you was innocent, father--I knew it all along.Thank God for making it clear, though. I asked Him to do it, night andday, and He's done it."
* * * * *
"Now, Archie, my boy," said Mr. Fairfax, as he and his son walked backtogether, "you see how entirely wrong you were in your hastyjudgment."
"Yes, father, I do see;" and the lad's voice was full of feeling."Stephen may never lose the effects of this time of cruel hardship. Imight have been his friend, and I was his enemy instead."
"If I had listened, or allowed the foreman to listen, to your guesses,he might have been turned off altogether. It should be a lesson toyou, Archie, never to injure another person's character again withoutabsolute certainty, and even then only if it is necessary for thegeneral good. Once gone, it is sometimes impossible to win back."
"I know--I know, father. I _will_ try to be careful, and not sohasty."
"Don't judge merely by appearances, Archie. Above all, remember thosewords of the Great Teacher, 'Judge not, that ye be not judged.'"
"I KNOW BEST."
"So the choir treat is fixed for Thursday, and we're all going to theCrystal Palace! What jolly fun we shall have!"
The speaker was Walter Franklin, a village lad of eighteen. ButChristopher Swallow, the friend to whom he addressed himself, a youthwho looked rather older, did not receive the news with the pleasureWalter expected.
"The old Crystal Palace again!" he grumbled. "Bother! What's the goodof going to the same place twice over? _I_ call it foolery andrubbish."
"Oh, but the rector said that no one but you and three of the oldermen had been before; and when he asked them whether they would likeanything else better, they said no. Benjamin Sorrell said that oncefor seeing all over such a big place was nothing, and he'd like tospend a week there."
"Let him, then; one day's enough for me. Of course, we must go as it'ssettled; but you won't catch _me_ staying dawdling about, looking atthe same old things over and over again as I see two years ago. Ishall be off and enjoy myself somewhere else."
"But, Christopher, Mr. Richardson said most partic'lar we _must_ allkeep together or we should get lost; and we're all to wear redrosettes on our left shoulders, that we may know each other at adistance, if we should get separated by any accident."
"Oh, did he indeed?" replied Christopher scornfully. "P'raps some'lldo it. I think I know _one_ as won't."
Walter said no more. Chris was well known to be what the others called"cranky" in his temper; and when he considered, as he generally did,that he was right, and every one else wrong, there was nothing for itbut to leave him alone.
When Thursday came, it was a most lovely September day. There washardly any one among the thirty members of the Hartfield Parish Choir,who drove in two big wagonettes to the station, that did not lookprepared to enjoy the day's outing to the utmost.
"Christopher don't look best pleased, though," thought Walter, asthey drove along, glancing at his friend's gloomy face. "And there'sMiss Richardson getting out the rosettes. I hope he won't go and makea row; but there's no telling."
The Hartfield Choir consisted of men, lads, and boys, with about halfa dozen little girls. The boys and girls, of course, sang alto andtreble; the lads alto, if they could manage nothing better; and themen bass and tenor. There were eight men between thirty and fiftyyears of age, six lads like Walter, and sixteen children.
Half were in one long brake with the rector, and half in another withthe schoolmaster and Miss Richardson. About half-way between Hartfieldand the station, Miss Richardson produced a white cardboard box, whichshe opened.
"Here," she said, taking out a very bright rosette made of redribbon, and a packet of pins, "I want each of you to put one of theseon your left shoulder, and then we shall know one another when we aretoo far off to see each other's faces. There, I've put mine on."
As she spoke she fastened one on to her jacket. Every one else did thesame, amidst a good deal of laughing and joking--every one, that is,except one.
"Christopher, where's _your_ badge?" asked Mr. White, theschoolmaster.
"In my pocket, sir," was the answer.
"We can't see through that, man; it isn't transparent, like a glasswindow. Get out the rosette and put it on."
Christopher plunged his hands into his two jacket-pockets and fumbled.Mr. White thought he was going to do as he was told, and took nofurther notice.
"Chris, you haven't put it on, now," whispered Walter, as the horsesdrew up at the station. "Ain't you going to?"
"Be quiet, will you? _You_ ain't master," said Christopher roughly;and Walter was silent.
He noticed, though, that his friend kept well out of sight behind theothers, and also that in the train he took a seat on the same side asMr. White, and as far off as possible. Miss Richardson was with thelittle girls in another carriage.
When the party reached the Crystal Palace station, they proceeded upthe steps to the gardens.
"Now," said Mr. Richardson, when they got to the final flight leadinginto the great glass building--"now, I think we may as well separatefor a bit. I will stay inside and take any who wish to see the poultryand rabbit show. The girls will like, I daresay, to go with MissRichardson, and those who don't care for the animals can follow Mr.White to the garden; only be sure you all come to the terrace by oneo'clock for dinner."
So saying, he turned towards the corridor where an immense cacklingand cooing announced the presence of the poultry and pigeons, followedby four of the lads and some of the men and boys.
"What shall you do, Chris?" whispered Walter.
"I shall see what schoolmaster's up to; and if I don't like what hedoes, I shall make off and get some jolly good fun by myself," was theanswer. "You stick to me, Walter. I s'pose you don't want to be theonly big chap among all them little 'uns?"
"No; I'll stick to you, Chris," he replied, but he did not feel verycomfortable.
Walter was a well-meaning lad, but he was very weak, and easily led bythe stronger-willed Christopher.
Mr. White knew the Crystal Palace well, and all its many attractions.He took his party to see a show where cardboard figures were made towalk and jump and open their eyes, just like real people.
Then he proposed that they should try throwing sticks, provided forthe purpose, at a row of penknives, and if any one knocked a knifeover it would be his. This was amusing for a little while; but when noone could get anywhere near a knife, the boys grew tired of trying,especially as they each had to pay a penny for three tries.
At last they arrived at th
e place where a man has tricycles to letout. Every boy pulled out the rest of his money and begged for a ride.In a few minutes half a dozen little green tricycles where whirlinground the curve.
Walter and Christopher despised the idea at first of doing what thelittle boys did; but when they saw some other youths like themselvesget on, they put their pride in their pockets, and each mounted atricycle. How they did waggle from side to side; and how impossible itwas not to laugh and shout at the absurd feeling of the thing!
"This is rare good sport," said Chris at last.
He had but just spoken when he met Mr. White.
"It's ten minutes to one," said the latter. "We must go, or we shan'tbe on the terrace as soon as the rector. Come along, boys; it'sdinner-time."
There was a general turning round of tricycles, and in a few minutesthe little party were making their way towards the palace.
"What's the matter, Chris?" asked Walter. "I thought you liked that."
"So I did; 'twas the only bit of fun I've had. It's a regularnuisance to be at some one else's beck and call like this, just whenone _is_ getting a little pleasure. Why should we come before we wantto?"
"Why? Because it's dinner-time. Aren't you hungry? I am, I know."
Christopher grunted sulkily, but in spite of his ill-humour he managedto get through the meat-patties and plum-pudding with a most excellentappetite.
Dinner over, the rector proposed that every one should come with himto see a panorama of the siege of Paris, which was to begin at threeo'clock.
"I should like it awfully. Wouldn't you, Chris?" said Walter.
"I don't know. No--it sounds dull and schoolish," replied Chris, whowas no scholar. "I won't be led about like a monkey on a chain,either. I know best how to amuse myself, and I tell you what--I'mgoing back for another ride on that tricycle. You'd better come too,Wat. The panorama doesn't really begin till half-past three. I saw itup on the board outside."
"But I've only got three half-pence left," said Walter, "so _I_ can'tride any more."
"Oh, I'll lend you the money. I've got heaps."
"But could you find your way back, Chris? This is such a thunderingbig place," urged Walter doubtfully.
"Yes, you idiot, of course I can. But don't come if you're afraid."
Chris knew very well that such a suggestion would break down Walter'shesitation at once; and so it did. He followed his friend, and soonforgot all about the panorama in his delight at having improved somuch since the morning in the management of his tricycle.
Suddenly a clock struck. One, two, three, FOUR.
"Chris, Chris, _did_ you hear? It's four o'clock!" he cried.
"Well, what of that?" was the cool rejoinder.
"Get off at once, Chris. The panorama must be half over. Bother itall! and I did so want to see it."
Chris proceeded slowly and leisurely back to the starting-point, andgot off his tricycle.
"How much?" he asked the man in charge.
"One and sixpence each, please."
"What a plague you are, Wat, to have come without any money," saidChris, as he paid the three shillings. "I didn't come to spend all mycash on you."
"How do you come to have so much?" inquired Walter.
"Why, my jolly old brick of an uncle gave me five shillings when heheard I was coming here."
"I wish he was _my_ uncle," sighed Walter, whose parents were verypoor. "But I say, Chris, is this the way to the panorama?"
"No, but I'm thirsty. I'm going into the palace to get a glass ofbeer. You can go on to the panorama if you're so anxious about it."
But Walter was far too much afraid of getting lost among the crowds ofpeople in the "thundering big garden" to part from his companion. Hehad never been more than ten miles from his native village untilto-day, and he felt quite bewildered at all the strange sights andsounds.
He followed Chris, who proceeded to a refreshment counter, and askedfor beer.
"We don't sell wine or beer, or anything of the sort, sir," was theanswer. "It's against the rules of the palace, and we've no licence."
Nothing made Chris so savage as to be thwarted in anything he wantedto do.
"Then it's a stupid place, and it ought to be ashamed of itself," hesaid angrily; "but if I can't get it here, I'll go where I can."
He turned on his heel and walked quickly away, followed by themuch-vexed Walter.
In vain did he ask Chris where he was going, and what he meant todo--not a word could he extract. The other lad stalked on, lookingevery now and then at the printed directions on the walls, tellingwhither each turning led.
He reached a sort of entrance-place at last, where there were the samekind of turnstiles as those through which Mr. Richardson had broughthis party in the morning.
"Way out" was written above one. Without a word to his companion,Chris went through it.
"But, Chris, that takes us outside. What _are_ you doing?" criedWalter.
"I know what I'm about," answered the other. "Are you coming or notI? I can't wait all day. You'll never find your way back to the othersalone. You'd a deal better stick to me that knows the way."
Walter looked round despairingly.
"What shall I do?" he said to himself. "I _wish_ I hadn't come withChris. He's so cross and disagreeable, it's no fun to be with him; butI could no more find my way back through all those twists and turnsthan fly. I suppose I must keep with him now," and he went through theturnstile and caught up his friend, who had grown tired of waiting andhad gone on some way.
"Oh, you've come, have you?" said he, as Walter came running up. "Ithought you liked best wandering about all proper and lonely insidethat fine place you seem so fond of."
Walter made no reply, but walked by the side of his companion, whomarched along as if he knew very well what he wanted, and meant tohave it.
At length they came to a street corner, where they saw written up,"Crystal Palace Arms."
"Now, here's just the place for me," cried Chris, pushing the dooropen and going in.
Walter, though he felt more uncomfortable than ever, saw no choice butto follow.
"Me and my pal wants a glass of beer," said Chris loudly, throwingdown a sixpence with the air of one who had plenty more.
"No, I don't want any, thanks, Chris," interrupted Walter hastily.
"Then you can go without," answered Christopher, deeply offended."I'm not going to offer it to you again, nor anything else either, yougreat hulking killjoy."
He drank off his own beer, and then had some more, and some moreagain.
Walter began to feel really frightened now, for Chris was one of thosechildish people who, having once begun drinking, cannot stopthemselves from taking more than is good for them.
But on this occasion, to his comrade's surprise, he did stop beforelong.
"It's no good for me to try and persuade him," thought Walter; "it'ud only make him go the other way. I _wish_ I hadn't gone with him;it's quite spoilt my day. I didn't get a holiday and come all this wayfrom home just to spend the afternoon in a stuffy public-house, nor onthe pavement outside, neither. It's six o'clock--there's the clockstriking.--Chris, we shall only just get back to the palace in time tomeet Mr. Richardson," he said aloud, beginning to walk very fast. "Youknow he's got all the tickets--we can't go without him."
"All right--plenty o' time," rejoined Chris, speaking rather thickly,and lagging behind in a most irritating way.
Walter thought he never should get him to the gate, but they reachedit at last. He thought it was the same man and the same entrance theyhad come in by before, but really both were quite different. Thegatekeeper said at once,--
"Where's your money? But you can only stay five minutes."
"Oh, we paid this morning," replied Chris. "Don't you remember a bigparty with red rosettes on?"
"You can't come in again, anyhow, without paying. And _you_ haven't nored rosettes."
"Yes, I have; it's in my pocket," said Walter, beginning to feel forit. But, alas! it was go
ne--drawn out, most likely, with hishandkerchief.
"Why did you make me take it off?" he said crossly. "Get out yours,Chris, and show it."
"Mine? Threw the old thing away hours ago. Not such a fool as I look,"answered Chris rudely.--"I'm going through here, so you can just stopyour row," he continued insolently to the gatekeeper, with a vagueidea of obtaining admiration from the crowds now coming out throughthe turnstile.
The gatekeeper looked at him contemptuously for a moment, and thengave a little whistle. Instantly two very tall policemen appeared.
"Just turn these two chaps out, will you?" said he. "They're regularholiday-keepers, they are. Been at the Palace Arms, I should say, mostof the day."
"Now then, you clear out," said the policemen, with voice and mannerthat even Chris dared not disregard.
"Please, we want to go to the station. We're to
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