Wikkey | Page 6

"hag's" address, and promising to return in the evening.
"I will look in this evening and tell you what I have done," Reginald said, as they went out together; "and also to get a peep at Wikkey, about whom I am not a little curious."
"Yes, do, Reg; I shall want some help, you know, for I suppose I've got a young heathen to deal with, and if he's going to die and all that, one must teach him something, and I'm sure I can't do it."
"He has got the first element of religion in him, at any rate. He has learned to look up."
Lawrence reddened, and gave a short laugh, saying--
"I'm not so sure of that;" and the two men went on their respective ways.
The "hag" began by taking up the offensive line, uttering dark threats as to "police" and "rascals as made off without paying what they owed." Then she assumed the defensive, "lone widows as has to get their living and must look sharp after their honest earnings;" and finally became pathetic over the "motherless boy" on whom she had seemingly lavished an almost parental affection; but she could give no account of Wikkey's antecedents beyond the fact that his mother had died there some years since, the only trace remaining of her being an old Bible, which Mrs. Skimmidge made a great merit of not having sold when she had been forced to take what "bits of things" were left by the dead woman in payment of back rent, omitting to mention that no one had been anxious to purchase it. Yes, she would part with it to his reverence for the sum of two shillings; and Mr. Trevor, after settling with Mrs. Skimmidge, pocketed the Book, on the fly-leaf of which was the inscription--
"SARAH WILKINS, From her Sunday-school Teacher. Cranbury, 18--."
Wilkins! might that not account for Wikkey's odd name? Wilkins, Wilky, Wikkey; it did not seem unlikely.
That evening, Reginald, entering his cousin's sitting-room, found Lawrence leaning back in his arm-chair on one side of the fire, and on the other his strange little guest lying propped up on the sofa, which had been drawn up within reach of the glow.
"Well," he said, "so this is Wikkey; how are you getting on, Wikkey?"
The black eyes scanned his face narrowly for a moment, and then a high weak voice said in a tone of great disapprobation:
"It wouldn't warm a chap much fur to look at him; he ain't much to look at, anyhow;" and Wikkey turned away his head and studied the cretonne pattern on his sofa, as if there were nothing more to be said on the subject.
Evidently, the fair, almost fragile face which possessed such attraction for Lawrence in his strength had none for the weakly boy; possibly he had seen too many pale, delicate faces to care much about them.
But Lawrence, unreasonably nettled, broke out hotly--
"Wikkey, you mustn't talk like that!" while the curate laughed and said:
"All right, Wikkey, stick to Mr. Granby; but I hope you and I will be good friends yet;" then drawing another chair up to the fire he began to talk to his cousin.
Presently the high voice spoke again--
"Why mustn't I, guvner?"
"Why mustn't you what?"
"Talk like that of him?" pointing to Reginald.
"Because it's not civil. Mr. Trevor is my friend, and I am very fond of him."
"Must I like everythink as you like?"
"Yes, of course," said Lawrence, rather amused.
"Then I will, guvner--but it's a rum start."
He lay still after that, while the two men talked, but Reginald noted how the boy's eyes were scarcely ever moved from Lawrence's face. As he took leave of his cousin in the hall, he said--
"You will do more for him just now than I could, Lawrence; you will have to take him in hand."
"But I haven't the faintest notion what to do, Reg. I shall have to come to you and get my lesson up. What am I to begin with?"
"Time will show; let it come naturally. Of course I will give you any help I can, but you will tackle him far better than I could. You have plenty to work upon, for if ever a boy loved with his whole heart and soul, that boy loves you."
"Loves me--yes; but that won't do, you know."
"It will do a great deal; a soul that loves something better than itself is not far off loving the Best. Good night, old fellow."
Lawrence went back to Wikkey, and leant his back against the mantelpiece, looking thoughtfully down at the boy.
"What did the other chap call you?" inquired Wikkey.
"Granby, do you mean?"
Wikkey nodded.
"Lawrence Granby,--that is my name. But, Wikkey, you must not call him 'chap'; you must call him Mr. Trevor."
"Oh, my eye! he's a swell, is he? I never call you nothink only guvner; I shall call you