MRS. ANSTRUTHER.

WHEN Ellen awoke, it was really one o'clock, but she fancied that she had dozed for about half an hour. So, getting up, she washed and dressed in a leisurely way, and went downstairs. In the kitchen she found Hannah, sitting near the fire in a most uncomfortable attitude, but fast asleep, while the baby was fast asleep in his basket, and a horrid smell as of burnt meat proceeded from the oven. Ellen ran to rescue the dinner; the noise of opening the oven roused Hannah, and it was really comical to see how heartily ashamed of herself she was.

"If you'll believe me, Ellen, I only sat down for five minutes, just to rest. When did I ever burn a roast to cinders before?"

"Oh, there's enough for dinner not burnt. But, Mrs. Rule dear, why do you want dinner so early?"

"Early, child? Why, 'tis two o'clock, or very near it. And I meant to call you at one, but, you see, I didn't."

"Two o'clock! Why, it really is, and I thought I had slept for perhaps half an hour. How's the baby?"

"As right as a trivet, the little beauty. Just look," tenderly lifting the blanket, "did you ever see a lovelier child?"

And the pair—true women both—went down on their knees, one on each side of the basket, to admire the baby, letting their burnt mutton cool for quite ten minutes. Then, as they dined, Ellen had to be told the story of the child's hunger, and the bottle, and Mr. Holcroft.

"But, oh, dear, what shall we do if he leaves you?" said Ellen.

"He won't do that; we'll take care the child doesn't annoy him. But if he must go, why, he must. He's not master here, to give his orders like that."

"Oh dear me, think of my forgetting all this time to tell you about Mrs. Cartwright. She was very bad when I was there."

"I knew it, child. I was there soon after you left, but I came home by Albany Street, because Miss Mildred wanted something from the shops. I went, because I had good news for them. Mrs. Anstruther promised to send a letter and help for the present, and to take care of Miss Mildred in the future. And glad I was that I went! It's my belief that Miss Mildred had spent nearly her last penny. I coaxed her to let me order in some things, knowing that Mrs. Anstruther won't fail. Poor Mrs. Cartwright said that now she could die in peace, knowing that Miss Mildred has a friend."

"You would have taken care of her," said Ellen.

"And how many more do you want me to take care of, Ellen? But, indeed, I'd rather have to do with Miss Mildred than with that roaring lad in the basket; how you slept through the noise he made is to me a mystery. But, you know, Miss Mildred is a lady, and Mrs. Anstruther can give a home fit for her. Mrs. Cartwright was nearly gone. She's not alive now, I'm afraid. A good woman, if ever there was one."

"Let us go and see how things are," said Ellen. "Miss Mildred would be so lonely."

"Let us go? And please, ma'am, what about the baby? Now you see what nonsense it would be to keep him. The two of us could never be out together—and what would become of your going with me as my 'prentice?"

"Well, you go to Miss Mildred, you'll be of more use to her than I could. And I'll wash up and take care of the baby."

"I'll go, but first we must get him up and feed him. I must show you how to do that. But you must see, Ellen, that it would not do. It couldn't go on."

"It would be only for a little time," pleaded Ellen; "he won't be a baby always."

"But I hardly think people would let me bring 'two' apprentices, one to mind the other. However, I'm sure we shall find his father and mother. He's not a child to be lost without being searched for. I must see the police about him, and buy a newspaper in case there's an advertisement, and must get some tacks of clothes for him, for decency's sake. He can't live in the basket with only a shawl to wear. I need not get much, and his people will pay it back, no doubt."

Baby, being refreshed, was returned to his basket, and fell asleep with a delusive appearance of intending to sleep for hours. Yet Hannah was but just gone, when that deceitful infant woke up, and began to stretch his limbs and double up his tiny fists, and pummel his nose and eyes with them; finally, he whimpered.

Ellen knelt beside him, and patted him—he cooed in the most entrancing manner, but when she withdrew, he roared. Plainly, a baby who liked attention and expected it. Finally, he kicked about in a manner so lively and alarming that she every moment expected to see the basket upset, so she took him up, awkwardly enough, for she had been too young while in Armine's Trust to be given the care of a baby. However, he was pleased, and smiled all over his face, as babies do.

But as to washing up, or doing a single thing beyond amusing the child and trying to keep the shawl over the white skin, she found it quite impossible.

As Hannah expected, Mrs. Cartwright had died during the night. Mrs. Anstruther's letter had arrived, anxiety about money was over, and poor Mildred was asleep, quite worn out. Hannah and Mrs. Green made all the necessary arrangements for the funeral, and they also settled that when it was over, Mildred should go home with Hannah until Mrs. Anstruther decided as to what she was to do. Hannah wrote to Mrs. Anstruther, telling her how matters now stood.

Hannah then went to the police office to tell her story about the baby. She was assured that every effort should be made to trace the old woman, and that advertisements should be circulated. The police sergeant walked home with Hannah to see Ellen and question her; also to see the baby.

"Of course we can take the child to the workhouse if you can't keep it, ma'am, but, if you can put up with it for a bit, we may find out who owns it. You say you don't think it is a poor person's child?"

"I think not, and so does Dr. Jephson. Wait a moment here for me. I want to buy some clothes for it. Not a rag had it on, but a dirty old shawl, that I suppose belongs to the old woman."

Hannah made her purchases, and then went home, escorted by the tall sergeant, to Ellen's great dismay, for she concluded that he would at once take possession of the child. Hannah left the sergeant in the parlour, while she opened her parcel and hastily dressed the baby—who bore it better than babies often do. Then she gave it to Ellen to carry, while she took the red shawl, or its poor remains, out of the tub into which she had bundled it, wrung it out hastily, and carried it to the parlour.

"Here's the child, Sergeant Boxer; and you don't often see a finer one."

"How old should you say he is, ma'am?"

"About six months, I suppose. If he's less, he's a very big child." Then she produced the wet shawl. "Here's the red shawl," said she.

"Oh, ma'am, you shouldn't have washed it, ma'am. It's all we have to go on!"

"Indeed, then, you couldn't well have less. But I haven't torn it. As to keeping it in my kitchen, or even in my dustbin—no, thank you kindly."

"And this is the young lady who let the old woman make her a present!" said Sergeant Boxer, and proceeded to ask Ellen several questions civilly enough. Yet he was evidently much amused by her simplicity, and she was as red as the ragged shawl before he had done with her.

"Well, Mrs. Rule, we will do all that can be done. I'll take the—"

"Oh no, don't!" cried Ellen. "We'll take better care of him than you can."

"The shawl, I mean, miss. Some of our men may reckanize it."

"You'd have had a better chance of that if I'd left it dirty," said Hannah, proudly regarding her handy-work as she shook it out and folded it.

"No doubt of that, ma'am. We'll let you know if anything turns up; and you'll keep the child awhile on the chance?"

"Yes, for a week or two I will," said Hannah.

And the sergeant departed.

"Well, that matter's settled. I have bad news for you, Ellen. Mrs. Cartwright is gone, as I was afraid it would be. And Miss Mildred is in bed; she's half dead with nursing and sitting up. There's no use in your going to her just now, but you can go in the evening and stay with her. Mrs. Green can't be spared, and Miss Mildred would rather have you than me."

"Oh dear, I'm sorry for Mrs. Cartwright. She was so kind—and then she had such a sad life."

"That's a reason for 'not' being sorry, to my mind. She had the comfort of knowing that Miss Mildred would be cared for—she was ready to go, and glad, I think, too. It was a hard life for one like her. No, I couldn't really wish her back again. Bring the child to the kitchen, Ellen, and—Why, child, you've forgotten to wash up."

"I didn't forget, but I never had a moment to do it. Baby cried—roared! if I left him in the basket. And what with amusing him, and keeping him wrapped up when he kicked like anything, I never had the chance to do my work. Don't be angry with me, Mrs. Rule dear."

"I'm not to say angry—but 'tis new to me to have the dinner lying just as when we stood up at six o'clock in the evening. And the fire out—and no hot water! Well, 'tis only for a time. But you must see, Ellen, that it can only be for a time."

With that she tied herself up in a big holland apron, and set to work ardently. She rekindled the fire, with much banging of the stove-door and thumping about of kettles. She put away the remains of the mutton, shaking her head at its burnt appearance. When the water boiled, she began to wash the delf with a good deal of clatter; and all the time her mouth was tightly shut, which Ellen knew for a stormy sign.

Another time Ellen would have been remorseful and half-frightened, but the baby kept her so busy that she could hardly help being exceedingly happy! He watched Hannah's brisk movements with interest, and evidently thought that the clatter was made for his express delight; he cooed softly, kicked his feet and waved his arms. Finally, Hannah happening to look at him, he burst into a jolly baby chuckle—surely, surely, one of the most delicious sounds in the world. Ellen laughed because the baby laughed; and Hannah, her pleasant face quite restored to its usual expression, took the child out of the girl's arms, kissed his little face, and then danced him about, saying—

"Bless his little heart! Here we go—up, up, up! And here we come—down-a-downy. Listen to that shout, Ellen,—the darling! Eh, baby, there's no—there's no fool like an old fool."

"But 'tis only for a little time, Mrs. Rule dear," said Ellen, laughing.

"Just so. Come now, you young Turk, I'll spread the shawl on the floor, and you may just sprawl about. Put the pillow for his head, Ellen; there now, he's as safe as a bird in a cage. Let's have tea, and then you must go to Miss Mildred."

"But how will you manage about baby all by yourself?" Ellen asked slowly.

"How does any woman manage that has a baby to see to? 'Tis only because you have no experience that you could do nothing but mind him. Why, Ellen, you seem quite unwilling to go! Surely you've too much sense to be afraid, because your kind school-mistress lies there dead?"

"Oh, it's not that! It's only—the baby."

"Indeed, then, Ellen, if the baby makes you think of nothing else, and forget Miss Mildred's grief and loneliness and all her kindness to you, the sooner we're rid of him the better."

Ellen hung her head, and made no further objection, but she looked what Hannah called "glum." However, Hannah took no notice, but when tea was over, packed her off, desiring her to look in at No. 6 and tell Mrs. Collins that she had not time to go to her that evening, as she had intended.

"Promise me one thing, Mrs. Rule dear,—that you won't let the baby be taken away while I'm away."

"Not unless his mother comes for him; you wouldn't have me keep him from her!"

"I—believe I would," said Ellen.

"Child, child, don't let such a selfish thought enter your head. Indeed, then, you're fair crazed about the boy. But you mustn't set your heart too much on him, nor give way to wrong feelings, Ellen. Good night, my dearie, good night."

Ellen had no difficulty in obtaining an interview with Mrs. Collins; the difficulty was to put an end to it. First she had to answer dozens of questions about the baby, and what the police said, and if they had caught the old woman in the red shawl.

"And they ought to know her by the shawl," Mrs. Collins remarked, with an appearance of great depth.

Seeing symptoms in her victim's movements of an inclination to make off, Mrs. Collins put forth her hand and took firm hold of Ellen's cloak. Then Ellen made a great mistake. She said—

"Do let me go, Mrs. Collins. Miss Mildred may be wanting me; she's alone."

This entailed, of course, another long cross-examination about the Cartwrights. And not until she had completely mastered that question, did Mrs. Collins set the girl free.

Altogether Ellen reached her destination in a rather cross mood. But when she saw her kind friend, who had taught her so much and been so good to her, everything else was forgotten, and the two girls cried together and comforted one another, as Hannah had hoped they would.

Ellen stayed with Miss Mildred until the day of the funeral: went with her to see the last of the good, brave, patient woman, who was at last resting from her labours, and then helped her to pack up such things as she wished to take with her. Mrs. Green was to dispose of the furniture. Mildred was to stay with Hannah for a couple of days.

"And you'll see baby," said Ellen, proudly; "he's such a beauty, Miss Mildred, I know you will like to see him."

Having no special turn for babies, and being sad at heart, and dreadfully afraid of her interview with Mrs. Anstruther, Miss Mildred rather disappointed Ellen, though she said at once that he was a beautiful child.

Next day, they were all sitting in the parlour, when once more Mrs. Anstruther's carriage rolled up to the door. The tall footman once more seemed determined to batter in the door if he failed to shake the house down, and Mrs. Collins stood at her door and saw the lady in the silk dress enter Hannah Rule's house.

"Some people has all the luck," was her comment; "that's a golden sovereign in her pocket, I'm very sure."

"This is Miss Cartwright, ma'am," said Hannah, when her visitor was in her parlour. "Ellen and I will leave you to settle things with her. You're looking a bit better, Mrs. Anstruther!"

"A very little bit, Hannah, I fear. Eh! A baby! Now, where did you pick up that baby, Hannah? You see, Miss Cartwright, I have to speak sharply to Hannah, because she might otherwise be persuaded to take care of every baby whose mother was too lazy to take care of it herself. But what a lovely child!"

"If you could find him his mother, ma'am, lazy or not lazy, you'd be doing what the police can't do, as yet. I only have him while they are seeing about it."

"Do not leave us, Hannah, till you have told me all about it. Did you find him yourself?"

Mrs. Anstruther made a sign to Ellen to put the baby upon her lap.

Instead of doing this, Ellen went quickly towards the door. Hannah, thinking that she had misunderstood the sign, intercepted her retreat, took the child, and gave him to Mrs. Anstruther, wondering why Ellen looked so piteous. As to Ellen, she was so taken up with the baby, that she thought every one wanted him as much as she did, and fully expected Mrs. Anstruther to propose carrying him off, as well as Miss Mildred.

"And Mrs. Rule will never say no to her!" thought poor Ellen, and stood by in an agony while the lady looked at the child, and played with him.

For some unknown reason, the baby was highly delighted, showed his satisfaction by poking a fat finger into Mrs. Anstruther's eye, and perfectly bubbled over with shouts and laughter.

"Well, he 'is' a lovely child! One would think he knew me, Hannah. Tell me all about him, please."

The story was told, and by the time it was finished, Mrs. Anstruther's object in asking for it was gained, for Mildred Cartwright had recovered her self-possession.

"Here, Ellen, take him; he's very heavy." Then, as she kissed him, she whispered: "Ah, Baby, if I had—Good-bye, you dear little fellow."

Ellen seized her treasure and fled, and Hannah only waited to say—

"You'll let me give you a cup of tea before you go, ma'am." And then hastened to the kitchen, where she had all things in readiness to bake some very special tea-cakes to which "Miss Geraldine" had of old been fondly attached.

As soon as all was ready, Hannah said—

"You won't mind staying here with baby, Ellen? You see, Mrs. Anstruther lost a little boy of about that age, and I just saw she was thinking of it."

"Oh no; I don't mind at all. I had rather stay here. But, Mrs. Rule dear, you 'won't' give her the baby, even if she asks for him?"

Hannah laughed. "Ellen, if the Queen happened to pass up Wellington Row, which she has never done in my time, you'd think she was coming for the baby. As to refusing Mrs. Anstruther, it would not be easy to me to do that, I confess." And, lifting her tray, she went to the parlour.

"Oh, Hannah! Surely I see the very cakes you used to make for us, and bake on a flat pan over the nursery fire! Yes, I will have some certainly, and they will very likely disagree horribly with me, and Miss Cartwright will have to nurse me. All your fault, Hannah; for you know my weakness for these cakes, and should not tempt me. Miss Cartwright will come home with me now, Hannah. She will be such a comfort to me that I cannot wait. She can get what more she requires as easily with me as here. Hannah, what shall you do if the child remains unclaimed?"

"The police say they will take him to the workhouse, ma'am."

"He would be better off at Armine's Trust than there. It is really well managed now, and the boys get a very good plain education; of course he would be at the girls' house till he is four years old. I will manage all that for him—or, rather, for you. Why, Hannah! You never think of keeping him?"

"Oh no, ma'am. You see, either Ellen or I must stay at home to mind him, and 'twould prevent her getting on with the cooking. But it 'does' go to my heart, remembering Ellen, as she was when she came to me, to think of that baby at Armine's—though no doubt the workhouse is worse."

"Armine's is better managed now, really. I suspect you have let that baby creep into a soft corner in your heart, Hannah. Now mind, I will gladly help you about him."

"Thank you, ma'am, but I really could not do with a baby at all. Mrs. Anstruther, I am thinking you're a bit more like yourself than when I saw you the other day?"

"Yes, I am, indeed. In the first place, the perfect quiet has rested me; and in the second, that wicked old Dr. Hammond has confessed to me that he made the worst of my illness, because he knew that nothing but a good fright would make me give up all my engagements. I shall never be fit for a busy life again, but I shall most likely come back from the Engadine for the summer pretty well. I dare say Miss Cartwright and I shall find something to do in a quiet way."

She took Hannah's hand in hers, and whispered, "And I shall not forget what you said, Hannah; I will try to learn my lesson."

"Bless your sweet heart," said Hannah, with tears in her eyes. "And when do you go, ma'am?"

"On Monday next; so this is good-bye. But if that baby refuses to turn out, I am to pay his expenses. You will lose by having him, you see."

"That's true, ma'am; and I would not let pride stand in my way. But I don't mean to keep him."

Miss Mildred came back, having packed up her things, and said good-bye to Ellen. And soon the carriage rolled smoothly away, leaving foolish Ellen with the feeling that Baby had very nearly been reft from her by Mrs. Anstruther.