Teddy | Page 7

I said I thought he'd
gone to the station, far off though it was, and you see I was right!"
"You're a sensible young woman," said Jupp. "I'd have thought the
same."
"Go on with your nonsense; get along!" cried she mockingly, in
apparent disbelief of Jupp's encomiums, and pretending to wrench her
arm out of his so as to give point to her words.
"I'll take my davy, then," he began earnestly; but, ere he could say any
more, a voice called out in front of them, amid the eddying flakes:
"Hullo, Mary! Is that you?"
"That's my master," she whispered to Jupp; and then answered aloud,
"Yes, sir, and I've found Master Teddy."
"Is Mary your name?" said Jupp to her softly in the interlude, while
scrunching footsteps could be heard approaching them, although no one
yet could be perceived through the rifts of snow. "I think it the prettiest
girl's name in the world!"
"Go 'long!" cried she again; but she sidled up to him and held on to his
arm once more as she spoke, the blasts of the storm at the moment
being especially boisterous.
"Is that you, Mary?" repeated the voice in front, now much nearer, her
answer not having been heard apparently, on account of the wind
blowing from the speaker towards them.
"Yes, sir," she screamed out. "I've found Master Teddy, and he's all
right."
She was heard this time.

"Thank God!" returned the voice in trembling accents, nearer still; and
then a thin, haggard, careworn-looking man in clergyman's dress
rushed up to them.
He was quite breathless, and his face pale with emotion.
"Padie! Padie!" exclaimed the mite, raising himself up on Jupp's
shoulder and stretching out one of his little hands to the new-comer
while the other grasped the kitten. "I'se turn back, I'se turn back to oo!"
"My boy, my little lamb! God be praised for his mercy!" cried the other;
and the next instant Teddy was locked in his father's arms in a close
embrace, kitten and all.
"Say, Miss Mary," whispered Jupp, taking advantage of the opportunity
while Mr Vernon's back was turned.
"What?" she asked, looking up into his face demurely.
"This ought to be passed round."
"Go 'long!" she replied; but, she didn't budge an inch when Jupp put his
arm round her, and nobody knows what happened before Mr Vernon
had composed himself and turned round again!
CHAPTER THREE.
AT THE VICARAGE.
Three little girls were flattening their respective little noses against the
panes of glass as they stood by one of the low French windows of the
old red brick house at the corner of the lane commanding the approach
from the village; and three little pairs of eager eyes, now big with
expectation, were peering anxiously across the snow-covered lawn
through the gathering evening gloom towards the entrance gate
beyond--the only gap in the thick and well-nigh impenetrable laurel
hedge, some six feet high and evenly cropped all round at the top and
square at the sides, which encircled the vicarage garden, shutting it in

with a wall of greenery from the curious ken of all passers-by without.
With eager attention the little girls were watching to see who would be
the first of the trio to herald the return of the missing Master Teddy and
those who had gone forth in search of him; but, really, seekers and
sought alike had been so long absent that it seemed as if they were all
lost together and never coming back!
The little girls were weary almost of waiting, and being thus kept in
suspense with hope deferred.
Besides that, they were overcome with a sense of loneliness and
desertion, everyone in the house but old Molly the cook and themselves
having started off early in the afternoon in different directions in quest
of the truant Teddy; so, as the time flew by and day drew to a close,
without a sight or sound in the distance to cheer their drooping spirits,
their little hearts grew heavy within them.
Presently, too, their whilom bright eyes got so dimmed with unshed
tears which would well up, that they were unable to see clearly had
there been anything or anyone for them to see; while their little putty
noses, when they removed them occasionally from close contact with
the glass, bore a suspiciously red appearance that was not entirely due
to previous pressure against the window panes.
Nor were their surroundings of a sufficiently enlivening character to
banish the little maidens' despondency, the fire in the drawing-room
grate having died out long since from inattention, making them feel
cold and comfortless, and it had got so dark within that they could not
distinguish the various articles of furniture, even papa's armchair in the
chimney-corner; while, outside, in