The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX. No. 1012, May 20, 1899

“Well, Oscar, I’ve just this one bit of advice to give you,” said North, as the pair walked homewards from the works. “Don’t you be too easy-going.”

“Am I too easy-going?” asked Oscar with a smile. “How?”

“Well, I think you are a bit. It’s easier to see that sort of thing than to define it. You don’t stick sufficiently tight to your own work. No, no, don’t think I mean you idle; you don’t, but you’ll do the other fellows’ work for them when they are larking, and let them take a turn at yours when you want to be off to the electrical works. The office was always a bit too free and easy, and we wanted to stiffen it up by putting you in. But if anything it’s got worse.”

Oscar laughed a little. North’s friendly manner relieved him of the fear that he had given dissatisfaction with his own share in what was required of him. He had been really doing his best, and had learned a great deal during the past months.

“It seems friendlier, somehow,” he said. “They are all nice fellows, and we work amicably together. I didn’t know it mattered sharing the work. They seemed used to it.”

“It doesn’t matter in moderation,” answered North. “We’re not fussy, my father and I. But don’t be too easy-going, Oscar. As you are one of the family, they will look up to you, and take their cue from you more or less. Business is business all the world over, and you’d do well to keep that fact sternly in mind.”

“I’ll try,” answered Oscar readily, “and I hope you’ll always tell me, North, if you see anything in which I fail. I want to justify your father’s opinion that I should do for the business, and I’m quite sensible of his kindness in taking me on.”

“Well, he’s glad enough to give you the sort of berth Cyril would have had if he’d not turned out too much the fine gentleman,” said North with one of his grim smiles. “My father never seriously thought of putting Cyril into the business, he was always thought to be a cut above it. But he often said he wished he had another son. You have come to fill that place, Oscar.”

The youth’s face flushed with pleasure. It was not often that North spoke with so much friendly unreserve. In the main he was a silent, self-contained man, though friendly enough to his younger cousin. But to-day his reserve seemed to have evaporated, and the next minute he spoke again.

“Don’t let Cyril get you too much into his set, Oscar. I know, of course, that you must have a good deal in common, being University men and all that. But I’m not always best pleased with the sort of fellows Cyril takes up with. I think they make him extravagant, and teach him expensive habits. It’s all very well for him. He manages to get a large allowance from the governor. But it wouldn’t suit your pocket or mine.”

“I don’t think I care much for Cyril’s friends,” said Oscar slowly. “Only when he asks me to go with him it seems churlish to refuse, when I’ve nothing else I want to do.”

“Well, I’d not mind seeming a bit churlish sometimes,” said North. “Indeed I’ve put up with the accusation myself, though I was never a fine enough gentleman for Cyril to care much for my company. But I wouldn’t let him take you up and drag you about too much if I were you. It won’t pay in the long run.”

They were by this time approaching the house in River Street, so there was no time for more discussion. It was Oscar’s temperament, as it was Sheila’s, to float with the stream of life, and take things easily. Perhaps it was this temperament in their father which had led to such disastrous results at last, but it was not quite easy for Oscar to realise this, though he was not ungrateful to North for his hint.

“What a hullabaloo!” exclaimed North, as he put his key into the latch and opened the door; and indeed there were sounds of very animated discussion going on in the drawing-room, the door of which stood open. The Cossart voices were rather loud when their owners were excited, and it seemed as though something of an exciting nature must be going on.

“What’s up?” asked the elder brother, pushing his way into the room, and both sisters began talking at once, so that it was not altogether easy to make out what either was saying.

“Oh, such a delightful plan! It’s the Bensons who are really getting it up—no, I should call it Mr. Ransom’s doing. But we are all to help. It will be no end of fun. I hope there’ll be acting! Anyway we shall have tableaux or something. And a bazaar, oh, yes, and some music. It’s to last for three days—perhaps a week even. And everybody will come. Oh, it will be the greatest fun! And we are to help in everything! We are to be on the Committee. I was never on a Committee before. I do feel so grand!” and Ray danced round her brother and made him a low curtsy, saying:

“We shall expect a great deal of patronage from Mr. Cossart, junior, of the Cossart works!”

“What’s it all about?” asked North, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a brotherly shake. “I can’t make head or tail of all that gabble. Now, mater, give us a cup of tea, and tell us quietly what all this means. Ray’s off her head, and Raby looks almost as demented. Some tomfoolery in the town, I suppose.”

“Well, that is rather a hard name to give it,” said Mrs. Tom with a smile. “It is like this. The new clergyman, Mr. Ransom, has, it seems, very proper and sound ideas about debt upon a church. I am sure your father would approve his views there. He thinks that debt is a wrong thing, and ought never to be contracted, especially over a house dedicated to the worship of God. He is quite shocked that in a prosperous town like this, there should be a heavy debt on the church, and that the mission chapel started two years ago should be almost entirely unpaid for. He spoke very seriously to his churchwardens and some of the leading men in the town, and he has so stirred them up to his view of the case that they are going to make a great effort to wipe out the whole debt immediately.”

“Good!” said North nodding his head. “I think that’s a very right way of looking at things. A man who lives in debt is considered to be doing a wrong to his creditors, and why not a church too?—or at least the people who build and use it.”

“That is what Mr. Ransom feels. He says he does not think that we can expect the same blessing upon the work of a church if the apostolic precept, ‘Owe no man anything,’ is deliberately broken. Well, a subscription list has been opened, and some really handsome sums have been already promised. But you know what people are. They want a little excitement and fun. And the Bensons have taken the matter up, and are canvassing all the town for a big bazaar and some entertainments in connection with it. The Corporation will give the Town Hall gratis for the purpose, and they are full of plans for making things go off with great éclat. They have been here talking things over with the girls this past hour. Mr. Benson is against having anything but local talent for whatever is got up. He says, ‘Why pay professionals from a distance when people would be much more interested in hearing their own young people sing, or seeing them act a little play, or perform in tableaux?’ And really I think he is right. I know I am dreadfully bored by hearing second-rate professionals. But if one knows the performers, why that’s quite a different matter.”

“And it will be such a nice chance for the glee club!” cried Raby. “And for some of us who have been having lessons. We did talk about getting up a concert at Christmas; but somehow it did not come off. Now, this seems the very thing, and everybody will come and hear us!”

At that moment there was a clatter of horsehoofs outside the door, and Ray exclaimed—

“Why, here is Cyril, with Sheila and Effie in the new phaeton! Don’t they cut a fine figure! What a pretty girl Sheila is! But she puts Effie altogether in the shade, don’t you think? If Aunt Cossart finds that out, she won’t be best pleased!”

The Stanhope phaeton was Effie’s last new fancy. It was discovered that Shamrock and the new cob would run together nicely in double harness; and Sheila, who had driven all her life, managed the pair with much skill.

Effie really preferred these drives in a carriage, recognised as her own, to the rides, where she was conscious of timidity and a lack of the ease and grace which distinguished Sheila’s horsemanship.

Cyril liked well enough to accompany his pretty cousins, as he called them; and Mrs. Cossart was better pleased when he was there, as well as the youthful tiger who always went with the carriage.

Raby and Ray had heard of this new turn-out, but had not seen it before. They ran to the window to look and admire; but in a few moments Effie and Sheila were in the room, Cyril bringing up the rear.

Sheila made a rush at Oscar first, but was quite ready to be affectionate to all. She was in gay, happy spirits, and brought with her an atmosphere of sunshine. Her sombre black was just lightened by ruffles of white at the throat and wrists; and the soft bloom upon her cheeks seemed set off by the darkness of her attire.

Somehow Effie seemed a quite secondary and insignificant figure when Sheila was present, though the best seat was given her, and her aunt asked with interest after her well-being. But the girls could not wait to hear Effie discourse upon herself and her symptoms, improved though they might be.

“Oh, Sheila, have you heard? Cyril, have you heard anything about the bazaar and fête? We are to have such a time of it! Sheila, you will have to help us! We shall all be as busy as bees!” and the girls plunged into a recital of the coming excitements, to which Sheila listened with all her ears.

“Oof! Won’t it be fun!” she cried, with her favourite little interjection which always made her cousins laugh. “I’m not a bit clever. I can’t sing or play or do anything like that; but I’ll help all I know. I shall be awfully pleased to!”

“But if we get up some tableaux you can perform,” said Cyril. “You could manage to stand still for two minutes at a stretch, could you not, Sheila?”

“Oof, yes! I could do that, only I’m afraid I should laugh in the middle! Effie, do you hear? There are to be such goings on. You’ll have to sing, I expect. Perhaps I’ll play for you, if I don’t get too frightened.”

“Are you taking up your music again, my dear?” asked Mrs. Tom. “That is right. It will be a pleasure to you, I am sure.”

“Yes, perhaps it will. I used to be fond of it, only I’ve not been able to do anything for so long; and if you can’t practise, I don’t think you ought to sing. I’ve been trying again these last few weeks. I think I shall get my voice back in time. But my throat is so weak still; I can’t do much at a time. I suppose it comes from being weak. If I were to get stronger, I should have more voice. I don’t care to make an exhibition of myself; but, of course, I’ll do anything I can to help the girls. I think people used to like to hear me sing.”

“And they’ll like to hear you sing again. It would be a good opportunity for you to appear in public after being shut up so long,” said Mrs. Tom; “and you could work for the bazaar at any rate. We must all try to help as much as we can for a good cause such as this.”