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Burr Junior, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 31 |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. The General pressed so hard that my mother and my uncle remained at his place for a couple of days longer, driving over in the General's carriage on the third day to say good-bye to me before returning home, and, to Mercer's great delight, a packet was placed in his hand after he had been fetched, with strict orders not to look at it till the carriage had gone. I already had one in my pocket, and in addition a smaller one that I was charged to deliver elsewhere. Then the farewell was said, and, as soon as the carriage was out of sight, I looked at Mercer, he at me, and with a unity of purpose that was not surprising, we rushed off to the yard and up the rough steps to the loft, where we laid our packets down, and hesitated to cut the strings. Again we looked at each other, and Mercer at last said huskily,-- "Hadn't we better open 'em? I _am_ hungry, but they're rather small and square for cakes." "Get out!" I said. "Cakes indeed! Here, let's see." "Whose shall we open first?" whispered Mercer. "Yours." "No, yours." "Both together then." "Right. Draw knives--Open knives--Cut!" The strings were divided to the moment, and then the sealing-wax which fastened the brown paper further was broken, and two white paper packets were revealed, also carefully sealed up. This wax was broken in turn, and with trembling hands we removed the white paper, to find within something hard and square wrapped in a quantity of tissue paper. We paused again, feeling breathless with excitement, and looked at each other. "Ready?" I said, and we tore off the tissue till a couple of little morocco cases were revealed, and again we paused before unhooking the fastenings, and opening little lids lined with white satin, while below, in crimson velvet, tightly-fitting beds, lay a couple of bright silver watches. Oh, the delight of that first watch! It fixed itself so in my memory that I shall never forget it. The bright, dazzling look of the engine turning, showing different lights and seeming to be in motion as the position of the watch is changed; the round spot in the ring where the spring was pressed for the case to fly open and show the face with its Roman numerals; and then the ticking--that peculiar metallic sound like nothing else. Words will not describe the satisfaction we boys felt as we stood examining our presents. "Why, they're both exactly alike," said Mercer at last. "I say, take care, or we shall get 'em mixed." There was no fear of that after the first few minutes, for further examination showed that they were numbered, and those numbers were burned into our memories at once. "Oh, I say," cried Mercer at last, "talk about watches! these are something like. Why, one of 'em's worth a dozen of old Eely's." "Don't talk about it!" I said, with a shiver; and after carefully opening mine so as to gaze at the works, Mercer of course following suit, the watches were carefully returned to their cases and placed in our pockets. "What shall we do now?" asked Mercer; "go and show them to the boys?" "No; it will only make them disappointed. Let's go down at once to Bob Hopley's." "What for?" "To take this." Mercer looked at the smaller packet I had for a few moments. "What is it?" he said. "A present from my mother for Polly." "Oh! Why, it must be a watch." "No," I said; "I think it's a brooch or a pair of earrings." "Oh, won't she be pleased!" We walked down to the lodge, where Polly met us at the door, eager to point to a tin of jam pigs which she had just drawn from the oven. "I was wishing some of you young gentlemen would come," she said. "They're red currant and raspberry. You're just in time." Polly's ideas of our visits to the cottage were always connected with tuck, and she looked at me wonderingly when I said we had not come for that. "There aren't nothing more the matter, is there?" she cried, as she set down her tin. I set her mind at rest by taking the packet from my breast. "Is--is that for me?" she said, with her face flushing with excitement. "Yes; open it." I saw her little red, rough hands tremble as she untied the string, and after removing one or two papers, all of which she carefully smoothed out flat, she came upon a thin morocco case. "Oh, it's earrings!" she cried; "and you two have bought 'em for me, because I--because I--because I--How do you open it? Oh my! It's a little watch." "Yes," I said, "a watch." "Yours, Master Burr junior?" she cried. "Oh, it was good of you to come and show it to me!" "No, Polly," I cried, looking at it eagerly. "I told you. It's for you." "But--but--it can't be." "Yes," I said, pointing to a little three-cornered note. "Open that and see what it says." Polly's trembling fingers hurriedly opened the paper, which she read, and then handed to me, Mercer looking over me as I held it out and read these simple words:-- "For Mary Hopley, with a mother's thanks." I saw the tears start to the girl's eyes, and there was something very charming in her next act, which was to carefully fold the note and kiss it before placing it in her bosom. "I shan't never part with that," she said softly; and then she stood gazing down at the watch, till a shadow darkened the door, and big Bob Hopley came striding in. "Hullo, young gents!" he said; "how are you? Why Polly! What's--" "A present, father, from Mr Burr junior's mar. Ought I to take it?" "Yes," I cried eagerly, "of course. You don't know how happy you made me by what you said. She is to keep it, isn't she, Bob Hopley?" "Well," said the big fellow, holding the little watch carefully and admiringly in his great brown hand,--"well, seeing, my lass, how it's give, and why it's give, and who give it, and so on, I almost think you might." _ |
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