University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XIII.
JASPER TO THE RESCUE.

The next evening, at the hour which she had named, Jasper walked down the road which led to The Priory. She walked with a confident step; she had very little doubt that Sylvia would be waiting for her. She was not far wrong in her expectations. A girl, wrapped in a cloak, was standing by a hedge. By the girl stood the mastiff Pilot. Pilot was not too well fed, but he was better fed than Sylvia. It was necessary, according to Mr. Leeson's ideas, that Pilot should be strong enough to guard The Priory against thieves, against unwelcome, prying visitors — against the whole of the human race. But even Pilot could be caught by guile, and Sylvia was determined that he should be friends with Jasper. As Jasper came up the road Sylvia advanced a step or two to meet her.

"Well, dear," said Jasper in a cheerful tone, "am I to come in, and am I to be welcome?"

"You are to come in," said Sylvia. "I have made up my mind. I have been preparing your room all day. If he finds it out I dare not think what will happen. But come — do come; I am ready and waiting for you."

"I thought you would be. I can fetch the rest of my things to-morrow. Can we slip into my room now? "

"We can. Come at once. — Pilot, remember that this lady is our friend. — One moment, please, Jasper; I must be quite certain that Pilot does not do you an injury. — Pilot, give your right paw to this lady."

Pilot looked anxiously from Jasper to Sylvia; then, with a deliberate movement, and a great expression of condescension on his face, he did extend his right paw. Jasper took it.

"Kiss him now just between his eyes," said Sylvia.

"Good gracious, child! I never kissed a dog in my life."

"Kiss him as you value your future safety. You surely do not want to be a prisoner at The Priory!"

"Heaven forbid!" said Jasper. "What I want to do, and what I mean to do, is to parade before her ladyship just where her ladyship cannot touch me. She could turn me out of every house in the place, but not from here. I do not want to keep it any secret from her ladyship that I am staying with you, Miss Sylvia."

"We can talk of that afterwards," said Sylvia. "Come into the house now."

The two turned, the dog accompanying them. They passed through the heavy iron gates and walked softly up the avenue.

"What a close, dismal sort of place!" said Jasper.

"Please — please do not speak so loud; father may overhear us."

"Then mum's the word," said the woman.

"Step on the grass here, please."

Jasper did exactly as Sylvia directed her, and the result was that soon the two found themselves in as empty a kitchen as Jasper had ever beheld in the whole course of her life.

"Sakes, child!" she cried, "is this where you cook your meals?"

"The kitchen does quite well enough for our requirements," said Sylvia in a low tone.

"And where are you going to put me?"

"In this room. I think in the happy days when the house was full this room must have been used as the servants' hall. See, there is a nice fireplace, with a good fire in it. I have drawn down the blinds, and I have put thick curtains — the only thick curtains we possess — across the windows. There are shutters too. If my father does walk abroad he cannot see any light through this window. But I am sorry to say you can have a fire only at night, for he would be very angry if he saw the smoke ascending in the daytime."

"Hard lines! But I suppose as I made the offer, I must abide by it," said Jasper. "The room looks bare but well enough. It is clean, I suppose?"

"It is about as clean as I can make it," said Sylvia, with a dreary sigh.

"As clean as you can make it! Have you not a servant, my dear?"

"Oh no; we do not keep a servant."

"Then I expect my work is cut out for me," said Jasper, who was thoroughly good-natured, and had taken an immense fancy to Sylvia.

"Please," said the girl earnestly, "you must not attempt to make the place look the least bit better; if you do, father will find out, and then — "

"Find out!" said Jasper. "If I were you, you poor little thing, I would let him. But there! I am in, and possession is everything. I have brought my supper with me, and I thought maybe you would not mind sharing it. I have it in this basket. This basket contains what I require for the night and our supper as well. I pay you twenty shillings a week, and buy my own coals, so I suppose at night at least I may have a big fire."

Here Jasper went to a large, old-fashioned wooden hod, and taking big lumps of coal, put them on the fire. It blazed right merrily, and the heat filled the room. Sylvia stole close to it and stretched out her thin, white hands for the warmth.

"How delicious!" she said.

"You poor girl! Can you spend the rest of the evening with me?"

"I must go to father. But, do you know, he has prohibited anything but bread for supper."

"What!"

"He does not want it himself, and he says that I can do with bread. Oh, I could if there were enough bread!"

"You poor, poor child! Why, it was Providence which sent me all the way from Tasmania to make you comfortable and to save the bit of life in your body."

"Oh, I cannot — I cannot!" said Sylvia. Her composure gave way; she sank into a chair and burst into tears.

"You cannot what, you poor child?"

"Take everything from you. I — I am a lady. In reality we are rich — yes, quite rich — only father has a craze, and he won't spend money. He hoards instead of spending. It began in mother's lifetime, and he has got worse and worse and worse. They say it is

in the family, and his father had it, and his father before him. When father was young he was extravagant, and people thought that he would never inherit the craze of a miser; but it has grown with his middle life, and if mother were alive now she would not know him."

"And you are the sufferer, you poor lamb!"

"Yes; I get very hungry at times."

"But, my dear, with twenty shillings a week you need not be hungry."

"Oh no. I cannot realize it. But I have to be careful; father must not see any difference."

"We will have our meals here," said Jasper.

"But we must not light a fire by day," said the girl.

"Never mind; I can manage. Are there not such things as spirit-lamps? Oh yes, I am a born cook. Now then, go away, my dear; have your meal of bread with your father, say good-night to him, and then slip back to me."

Sylvia ran off almost joyfully. In about an hour she returned. During that time Jasper had contrived to make a considerable change in the room. The warmth of the fire filled every corner now; the thick curtains at the window looked almost cheerful; the heavy door tightly shut allowed no cold air to penetrate. On the little table she had spread a white cloth, and now that table was graced by a great jug of steaming chocolate, a loaf of crisp white bread, and a little pat of butter; and besides these things there were a small tongue and a tiny pot of jam.

"Things look better, don't they?" said Jasper. "And now, my dearie, you shall not only eat in this room, but you shall sleep in that warm bed in which I have just put my own favorite hot-water bag."

"But you — you?" said Sylvia.

"I either lie down by your side or I stay in the chair by the fire. I am going to warm you up and pet you, for you need it, you poor, brave little girl!"