CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER
The wonder-working power of Time is
proverbial. Behold Jeffrey Benson once again,
looking like his old self, at the hospitable board
of Miss Millet. It is an occasion of importance.
Opposite to her sits her brother. Jeff is on
her right hand. On the left sits Rose prettier,
brighter, and more womanly than ever. A gold
circlet on one of the fingers of her left hand proclaims
a great fact. A happy smile on her face proves
that her confidence has not been misplaced.
Jeff is nearly as stout and strong
as he ever was; of his severe illness scarcely a trace
remains. The doctor does not know what it was,
and it is not to be expected that we should know.
Sufficient for us to state the fact that it is gone.
But our hero is not now a coastguardsman.
Listen, and the captain will explain why.
“Molly, my dear, another cup
of your superb tea, to web my whistle before I begin.
It ought to be good, for I know the man that grew
it, and the firm through which it came. Well,
now, both you and Rosebud will nat’rally want
to know about the situation which I’ve obtained
for Jeff. You’ll be surprised to hear
that he is now Secretary of State to King Richard
Longpurse.”
“In other words,” interrupted
Jeff, with a laugh, “your brother thinks ”
“If you think, sir,”
interrupted the captain in his turn, “that King
Richard cannot explain matters in his own words, you
had better say so at once, and I will abdicate in
your favour.”
“Go on, sire I submit,” said
Jeff.
“Well then, Molly, I was about
to say, when my secretary interrupted me, that he
and I have at last come to an agreement. After
much explanation, I have got him to understand that
a king cannot possibly manage all his own affairs
with his own hands, and that I am forced to have a
secretary, who can at least do the `three R’s’
pretty well. You see, although my edication
has not been neglected, it still remains a fact that
I can’t read without specs, that in cipherin’
I am slow slow, though sure and
that in the matter of penmanship I am neither swift
nor legible. Therefore, seein’ that in
such things I don’t differ much from other kings
and great men, Jeff has generously consented to refuse
the lucrative sitooation under Goverment, with nothin’
partik’lar to do, which has been offered to
him, and to accept the secretary of state-ship, now
at the disposal of King Richard, who will give him
at least as good a salary as Government, and at the
same time keep his nose closer to the grindstone.”
“Oh! Jeff,” said
Rosebud at this point, shaking her finger at her husband,
“I knew there was something in the wind!”
“My child,” remarked the
captain, “there is always something in the wind.
According to the best authorities, you may count on
findin’ oxygen, nitrogen, and carbonic-acid
gases in it not to mention foreign substances
at times, such as dust leaves, bits of old newspaper
and the like, except at sea, where it is always pure
and good.”
“But with plenty of salt in
it,” interposed Miss Millet, “though not
enough to cure you of bad habits, brother. Come
now, tell us really what you mean.”
“Well, sister, what I really
mean is this: that the fortune which has been
sent to me is far too big for one pair of hands and
one brain to manage: so my son-in-law has agreed
to help me and the labourer, you know,
is worthy of his hire! Surely I don’t need
to explain the meaning of that text to you!
Since we last conversed in this room on the disposal
of my surplus funds, Jeff and I have had many a long
talk and walk together. Moreover, I have kept
the young secretary’s nose so tight to the grindstone
for some months past that he has produced results
which will, I think, interest it may be
even surprise you.”
“Before going further,”
continued the captain, pushing in his cup, “let’s
have some more o’ that brew to wet my whistle.
Well, you will be pleased to hear that I have changed
my mind about the carriage and four, and the mansion
in Belgravia, and the castle at Folkestone, and the
steam-yacht given ’em all up, and
decided to come here an’ live quietly beside
you, sister.”
“Are you in earnest brother?”
asked Miss Millet, with sparkling eyes.
“Never more in earnest in my
life; but get out your plans an’ papers, secretary,
an’ explain ’em.”
Jeff rose, left the room, and returned
with a business-like bundle of papers, which he untied
and arranged on the table before him. Taking
up one, he said
“This is a list of the poor
people in Cranby, in whom Miss Millet has been accustomed
to take special interest. The first on the list
is old Susan Jenkins.”
“My dear old woman, who has
been bedridden so long, and in such terrible poverty?”
asked Miss Millet.
“The same,” answered Jeff.
“Captain Millet has succeeded in getting her
admission into the hospital for incurables. We
have only just received intimation of the appointment;
and as the old woman does not know of it yet, we thought
it best to let you be the bearer of the news.”
“Oh, brother!” exclaimed
Miss Millet, clasping her hands in delight. She
knew now that the captain was in earnest, for he would
sooner have cut off his own hand than trifle with
her feelings.
“Go on, secretary,” cried
the captain, taking a considerable swig of tea, “an’
don’t you interrupt, Molly, else we’ll
never get through.”
“The next name is Martha Brand.”
“What, ragged little Martha?” exclaimed
Miss Millet.
“The same. A new rig-out
has been ordered for Martha, and she is to be sent
to school. Joe Puncheon, better known as Vagabond
Joe, has been apprenticed to a carpenter by
his own special desire and goes to work
on Monday next in a suit of suitable clothes.”
“Come, sir, none o’ that
in business hours,” cried the captain, “and
heave that list overboard. It would take us half
the night to get through with it. Come to the
plans, sir; open the plans.”
Putting aside the list, the obedient
secretary took up a large document, and, unfolding
it, spread it on the table.
“This,” said Jeff, with
business-like gravity, “is a plan of the Cranby
Swimming Bath. The coast near the town being
rocky, and in many ways inconvenient for bathing,
sea-water is to be pumped into this bath daily by
a steam-engine. A professor of swimming is appointed
to give gratuitous instruction in his art. The
bath is to be in two parts one for ladies,
one for gentlemen and will have dressing-boxes
all round, besides diving-boards and every sort of
convenience. At certain hours of the morning
and evening it will be open free of charge to all comers;
so that there will be no excuse for any man, woman,
or child in Cranby being dirty or unable to swim.”
“What a blessing it would be,”
exclaimed the enthusiastic Miss Millet, “if
such baths existed all over the kingdom!”
“It is a disgrace to the kingdom,”
said Jeff, “that a bath such as this does not
exist in every town of the kingdom. A mere tithe
of the money wasted on drink and tobacco,” ("and
tea,” muttered the captain, pushing in his cup
for more), “would suffice to do it.”
“Come, Jeff, clap a stopper
on your long-winded lectures, and go ahead wi’
the next plan,” said the captain, “and
don’t moralise if you can help it.”
“But, brother, can you afford
all this?” asked Miss Millet.
“Afford it? Of course
I can. It’s wonderful, Molly, what men
can afford when they’re willing to spend.
Why, I’ve known a man myself who was so uncommon
willin’ to spend that he ruined his baker an’
butcher an’ greengrocer before he had done spendin’.
If that’s so with them as hasn’t got
money to spend, surely it’s for a man like me
to do so who’s rollin’ in four thousand
a year, more or less. Besides, I’m goin’
to invest some o’ the capital in a way that’ll
pay back three or four hundred per cent interest!
I’m not goin’ to leave it all to my Rosebud.
A reasonable provision she shall have not
more. You see, Molly, I’m of opinion that
whatever a man has whether he makes it by
the use of his talents, or inherits it from his father,
or has it sent to him unexpected, like mine he
holds it all in trust, to be used for the glory of
God and the good of men. Now, cut along, secretary.”
“This,” said Jeff, “is
the plan of the People’s Free Library.
The purchase of the site was effected last week, and
the building is to be commenced next month.”
“Ay, and the Prince of Wales
is coming to lay the foundation stone,” cried
the captain; “leastwise I’ve asked him
to do it, and no doubt he’ll come if he’s
got time. But look here, Molly,” he added,
becoming impatient and opening out all the plans at
once “here you’ve got the lecture-hall
an’ the gymnasium, an’ the church, an’
the ragged school all ship-shape an’
what d’ye think this is? Explain it, secretary.”
“This is a plan of two cottages
exactly the shape and size of this one in which we
sit, but with a few more rooms and out-houses behind.
The empty space between them represents the site
of this cottage. The one on the right is intended
for Captain Millet. That on the left for ”
“For the secretary and his wife,”
cried the captain again, taking up the discourse.
“An’ look here, what d’ye think
the double lines in pencil ‘tween your cottage
an’ mine means?”
“A wash-house, perhaps.”
“A wash’us,” repeated
the captain, with contempt. “No; that’s
a passage from one house to the other, so as you an’
I can visit comfortably in wet weather. There’s
a door in the middle with two locks, one on each side;
so that if either of us should chance to be in the
dumps, we’ve got only to turn the key on our
own side. But the passage ain’t in the
plan, you see. It’s only a suggestion.
Then, Rosebud, what d’ye think that thing is
atop of my cottage?”
“It it looks
like a a pepper-box,” replied Rose,
with some hesitation.
“Pepper-box!” repeated
the captain, in disgust; “why, it’s a plate-glass
outlook, where I can sweep the horizon with my glass
all round, an’ smoke my pipe in peace and comfort,
and sometimes have you up, my girl, to have a chat
about old times. But that’s not all, Molly.
Here’s a letter which you can put in your pocket
an’ read at your leisure. It says that
the tin mine in which you have shares has become so
prosperous that you could sell at ten or twenty times
the price of your original shares; so, you
see, you are independent of me altogether as to your
livelihood. Now, old girl, what d’ye think
of all that?”
The captain threw himself back in
his chair, wiped his brow and looked at his sister
with an air of thorough satisfaction.
“I think,” returned Miss
Millet slowly, “that God has been very good to
us all.”
“He has, sister, He has; and
yet the beginning of it all did not seem very promising.”
The captain cast a glance at Jeff
as he spoke. The youth met the glance with a
candid smile.
“I know what you think, father,”
he said. “You and I are agreed on that
point now. I admit that what appears to be evil
may be made to work for good.”
“True, Jeff,” returned
the captain; “but I have lived long enough to
see, also, that the opposite holds good that
things which are questionably good in themselves sometimes
work out what appears to be evil. For instance,
I have known a poor, respectable man become suddenly
and unexpectedly rich, and the result was that he went
in for extravagant expenditure and dissipation which
ended in his ruin.”
“But that,” said Miss
Millet quickly, “was because he did not accept
the gift as from God to be used in His service, but
misused it.”
“True, Molly, true; and such
will be my fate if I am not kept by the Holy Spirit
from misusing what has been given to me.”
The Rosebud opened not her lips, only
her ears, while this conversation was going on; but
the next day, seated on a stool at Jeff’s feet,
with her fair little hands clasped on his knee and
looking up in his kind, manly face, she said
“I wonder, Jeff, what auntie
would say if, instead of working out such pleasant
consequences to us, all these things had ended only
in what we term disaster, and bad luck, and poverty,
and death as happens so often to many people.”
“I wonder, too, my Rosebud,”
returned Jeff. “Suppose we go and put the
question to her.”
Accordingly they went, and found the
quiet old lady busy, as usual, knitting socks for
the poor.
“Now, auntie,” said Jeff,
after stating the question, “if everything had
turned out apparently ill for us according
to what men usually call ill would you
still hold that everything had really turned out well?”
“Certainly I would, Jeff, on
the simple ground that God is good and cannot err,
though He has many and strange methods of bringing
about His ends. You can prove it by taking an
extreme case. Go to one of the early martyrs,
who lost not only property, and health, and friends,
and liberty, but finally his life at the stake.
The unbeliever’s view would be that everything
had gone against him; his own view, that God had put
on him great honour in counting him worthy to suffer
and die for Jesus; and you could not doubt his sincerity
when you heard his hymns of praise on the way to the
stake ay, even in the fire.”
“Then, whatever happens good
or bad auntie,” said Rose, “you
would say, `All is well.’”
“I would believe it, dear, whether
I had courage to say it or not. If strength
were given, I would certainly acquiesce, and say, `Thy
will be done.’”
“Amen! Long may we live
to say that, Molly,” said Captain Millet, entering
the cottage at that moment. And the captain’s
prayer was granted; for he and Molly and
the ex-coastguardsman with his Rosebud lived many
a year after that to see the completion of the swimming-bath,
and the people’s’ library, and the gymnasium,
and the evening classes, and the model houses, etcetera,
and to experience the truth of that blessed Word which
tells us that “all things work together for good
to them that love God.”