Charlie to the Rescue | Page 5

loose somewhere."
He laid down his knife and fork, and looked out at the window with a
wistful, perplexed expression.
"How I wish," he continued, "that the lines had been laid down for the
human race more distinctly, so that we could not err!"
"And yet," responded his mother, with a peculiar look, "such lines as

are obviously laid down we don't always follow. For instance, it is
written, `Ask, and it shall be given you,' and we stop there, but the
sentence does not stop: `Seek, and ye shall find' implies care and
trouble; `Knock, and it shall be opened unto you' hints at perseverance,
does it not?"
"There's something in that, mother," said Charlie, casting another
wistful glance out of the window. "Come, I will go out and `seek'! I see
Shank Leather waiting for me. We agreed to go to the shore together,
for we both like to watch the waves roaring in on a breezy day like
this."
The youth rose and began to encase his bulky frame in a great
pilot-cloth coat, each button of which might have done duty as an
afternoon tea-saucer.
"I wish you would choose any companion to walk with but young
Leather," said the widow, with a sigh. "He's far too like his father to do
you any good."
"Mother, would you have me give up an old playmate and
school-fellow because he is not perfect?" asked the youth in grave
tones as he tied on a sou'-wester.
"Well, no--not exactly, but--"
Not having a good reason ready, the worthy woman only smiled a
remonstrance. The stalwart son stooped, kissed her and was soon
outside, battling with the storm--for what he styled a breezy day was in
reality a wild and stormy one.
Long before the period we have now reached Mrs Brooke had changed
her residence to the sea-coast in the small town of Sealford. Her cottage
stood in the centre of the village, about half-a-mile from the shore, and
close to that of her bosom friend, Mrs Leather, who had migrated along
with her, partly to be near her and partly for the sake of her son Shank,
who was anxious to retain the companionship of his friend Brooke.
Partly, also, to get her tippling husband away from old comrades and

scenes, in the faint hope that she might rescue him from the great curse
of his life.
When Charlie went out, as we have said, he found that Shank had
brought his sister May with him. This troubled our hero a good deal,
for he had purposed having a confidential talk with his old comrade
upon future plans and prospects, to the accompaniment of the roaring
sea, and a third party was destructive of such intention. Besides, poor
May, although exceedingly unselfish and sweet and good, was at that
transition period of life when girlhood is least attractive--at least to
young men: when bones are obtrusive, and angles too conspicuous, and
the form generally is too suggestive of flatness and longitude; while
shyness marks the manners, and inexperience dwarfs the mind. We
would not, however, suggest for a moment that May was ugly. By no
means, but she had indeed reached what may be styled a plain period of
life--a period in which some girls become silently sheepish, and others
tomboyish; May was among the former, and therefore a drag upon
conversation. But, after all, it mattered little, for the rapidly increasing
gale rendered speech nearly impossible.
"It's too wild a day for you, May," said Brooke, as he shook hands with
her; "I wonder you care to be out."
"She doesn't care to be out, but I wanted her to come, and she's a good
obliging girl, so she came," said Shank, drawing her arm through his as
they pressed forward against the blast in the direction of the shore.
Shank Leather had become a sturdy young fellow by that time, but was
much shorter than his friend. There was about him, however, an
unmistakable look of dissipation--or, rather, the beginning of it--which
accounted for Mrs Brooke's objection to him as a companion for her
son.
We have said that the cottage lay about half-a-mile from the shore,
which could be reached by a winding lane between high banks. These
effectually shut out the view of the sea until one was close to it, though,
at certain times, the roar of the waves could be heard even in Sealford
itself.

Such a time was the present, for the gale had lashed the sea into wildest
fury, and not only did the three friends hear it, as, with bent heads, they
forced their way against the wind, but they felt the foam of ocean on
their faces as it was carried inland sometimes in lumps and flakes. At
last they