Jack Raymond

"Uncle," he said suddenly.

He so seldom spoke to the Vicar now, un­less obliged to, that every one looked up.

"Is it quite settled that I mayn't go to school?"

Mr. Raymond's face grew hard,

"Quite; and you know why. You have had your answer; now that is enough about the matter."

"Very well; I only wanted to be sure."

"You'd better lie down now, Jack," said Mrs. Raymond timidly. This conversation in the doctor's presence made her uncom­fortable. "I'll come and read to you after Molly goes to bed."

Jack lay down. He had become very docile in trifles since his illness.

"Dr. Jenkins has promised to read now," he said carelessly.

The doctor looked round in surprise; he had made no such promise. Jack was look­ing at him steadily, and he thought again, how u

"You mustn't worry Dr. Jenkins," said Aunt Sarah. "I'll read to you."

"Dr. Jenkins promised," Jack repeated. His face had set in the immovable lines that made it look like a mask; there was a violent domination in the black eyes. Dr. Jenkins came up to the sofa. He was attracted, in spite of himself, by this masterful personality.

"I'll read if you like, my boy. What is it to be — a story?"

"A chapter, please; we read nothing but the Bible on Sundays."

"Are you sure it's not troubling you too much, Dr. Jenkins?" Mrs. Raymond asked. As the doctor turned to answer her, he felt the sudden grip of Jack's fingers on his wrist. "Not a bit," he said. "I shall be de­lighted, if you and Mr. Raymond will put up with my reading; I'm not much of an elocu­tionist. Allow me."

He placed a chair for her, adding softly: "You'd better humour him as much as pos­sible just now; he still gets a bit feverish towards evening."

She sat down and took Molly on her lap.

"I've found the place, sir," said Jack, holding out the brown Bible. "May I have the sofa turned round a bit more? The light hurts my eyes. Yes, that's right, thanks."

He was now facing his uncle's arm-chair. Dr. Jenkins sat down beside him, and took the Bible. It was open at the chapter with the marked verse.

"Surely you don't want this one?" he asked in surprise. "It's the commination service."

The Vicar looked up uneasily. "You had better read the lessons for the day," he said.

"I read them this morning," said Jack in his indifferent voice. "This one, if you don't mind, sir; I've had to learn it by heart, and I'm not sure I've got it right."

The contrast between his face and his speech had roused the doctor's curiosity. "Master Jack has a will of his own," he thought; "I'm glad it's not I that have to manage him." However, he began to read without further protest; he was puzzled, and also a little bit amused at being domi­neered over in this fashion by a disgraced schoolboy.

Jack's lips moved silently as he lay watch­ing his uncle; evidently he was following the text from memory. The doctor read on, passing the nineteenth verse, where the brown stain marked the page, and skipping the improper passages, though his hearers knew them by heart. He felt embarrassed and uncomfortable, almost a

"I think we can find something more suitable than this," he said, when the chapter was finished. "Suppose I read the story of..."

"The next chapter, please." Jack spoke softly, without turning or removing his eyes from the figure in the arm-chair.

"Don't be troublesome, Jack," said the Vicar sharply. "Let Dr. Jenkins choose."

Jack's fingers closed round the doctor's wrist. "Go on, please," he whispered, with­out moving. "The next chapter..."

His face was still quite colourless and set. "I wonder what the boy is up to?" Dr. Jenkins thought. "Some devilry, certainly."

He was not so familiar with the Bible as the Raymonds were. Glancing over the opening verses of the twenty-eighth chapter, he began to read, well content to have got through the maledictions and come to the blessings. After the first column he realised what the chapter is about.

"Cursed shalt thou be in the city, and cursed shalt thou be in the field. Cursed shall be thy basket and thy store. Cursed shall be the fruit of thy body, and the fruit of thy land, the increase of thy kine, and the flocks of thy sheep. Cursed shalt thou be, when thou comest in, and cursed shalt thou be when thou goest out..."

He laid the Bible down on his knee; really he could not plough through any more of this.

Mrs. Raymond was quite white, and her lips had begun to tremble. The little girl on her knee was pale too, scared without know­ing why. Jack's great eyes had never stirred from his uncle's face.

A kind of breathless hush had fallen in the room. The doctor picked up the book again, and went on reading, with a horrible sense that he was taking part in an execution. He floundered helplessly on and on, through the curses piled one upon another, to the tremendous peroration:

"In the morning thou shalt say, Would God it were even! and at even thou shalt say, Would God it were morning! for the fear of thine heart wherewith thou shalt fear, and for the sight of thine eyes which thou shalt see..."

The Vicar rose from his chair with a smothered cry.

The Bible fell open on the floor. Jack was kneeling upright on the couch, with one hand clenched upon the foot-board, and looking straight into his uncle's eyes. Molly began to cry suddenly.

"Thank you," said Jack, lying down again. "Uncle will let me go to school."

CHAPTER VII

Accordingly, at the opening of the term, Jack went to school. His point once gained, he had been quite docile about all minor questions. Mr. Raymond's choice had fallen upon a good middle-class school near Lon­don; and Jack, when told of the decision, had acquiesced with the passivity of utter indifference. On the last morning, when it was time to start for the train, the Vicar called him into the study.

"I think it right to tell you," he said, "that in giving Dr. Cross the necessary par­ticulars, I made no mention of what I have found out about you. If I had done so, he would certainly have refused to accept you; and I have some doubt whether I am not doing him wrong by letting him take you in ignorance. But my chief reason for choosing his school is that I have heard he exercises a close supervision over the conduct of his boys; you will, I hope, have no opportunity to injure your schoolfellows. You start, therefore, with a clean record, and it rests with yourself to live down the past. But you must understand clearly that this is the last chance I can give you. If Dr. Cross sends you back to me, you will go to a reformatory."

Jack stood still and listened, his eyes on the floor. As he did not speak, the Vicar added in a lower voice:

"I suppose it is useless to appeal to any natural feeling of affection in you, or I would ask you not to break your aunt's heart, and not to bring shame on your sister. But for your own sake I beg you to think before it is too late. From the reformatory to the con­vict prison is only one step."

There was still no answer He rose, sigh­ing.

"I had hoped you would repent and con­fess at last. Jack, this is the turning point of your life; have you nothing to tell me before you go?"

Jack slowly raised his eyes from the floor.

"Yes, one thing."

He was grave, but quiet and gentle. "Whether you send me to a reformatory or not, I suppose I shall live, somehow, and grow up. You've got Molly here, and I can't take her away from you, because you're stronger than I am. When I'm a man I shall be stronger than you; and if you've been unkind to her I shall come back, and kill you. As for Spotty, she's safe enough; I drowned her this morning. That's all; good-bye."