Fiction
“I say! Does it always have to rain?” Dick Aldebourne, gloomily gazed out of his dormitory window. It was Cheshire, England 1803. The rain was indeed pouring in torrents down the windows of St. Thomas’ School for Boys. The downpour created a sheet of gray which had completely enveloped the schoolyard, making it impossible for Dick to see anything beyond the back garden, other than pools of water and drooping garden plants.
“As if this place weren’t dreary enough without it having to rain-and on a Saturday too! That makes it all the more rotten!”
“And if the school and the rain aren’t enough to turn a fellow sour, he can always rely on you, Dick.” On Arthur Keckilpenny’s face stretched his notoriously wide grin.
Dick turned to his friend and room mate and tried to smile back, but it was more of a simper. “Life is dreadful trying; I can’t be “jolly glad of it” as you always are.” He said, with a dark scowl.
Conversations similar to this had been held, many a time, between the two boys. Owing, I suppose, to the fact that they were opposites in disposition. Where Dick was impetuous, hot-tempered, and easily discouraged, Arthur was cautious, cheerful, and optimistic. It was a constant source of vexation to Dick that Arthur could never be riled.
Today was no exception; no matter how the rain poured and the thunder crashed and the lightning flickered, Arthur would still hum and smile and study his geography as though it were a quiet spring morning and he was reading sonnets under the apple tree in the meadow.
Dick rumpled his hair in frustration. “I say! How can you study with such a rumpus as this going on?”
“Oh, I don’t mind it, I rather like rain and everything that goes with it.”
“You would.” Dick sneered.
Seeming not to hear him, Arthur said, “Besides, I can’t fail in the final exams, can I? Wouldn’t want to disappoint the family.”
Dick made no reply to this, except so far as his own head went: “Some families can’t be disappointed no matter what a chap does, and others can’t be pleased no matter how hard a chap tries.”
“Come on, Dick, Old Fellow, shall we identify the countries in eastern Asia together, and arm ourselves for Digby’s “surprise” quiz on Monday?” Arthur again grinned from ear to ear.
This, at least, brought something akin to a smile to Dick’s face. The school’s geography and history teacher, Kennan Digby, was always warning his scholars of “surprise” quizzes, with enough solemnity upon his countenance to befit a proclamation that the day of Judgment was at hand. However, he always managed to let slip when the “surprise” quiz was coming so that every boy generally knew the exact day and hour on which it would occur.
“As if the old Prof could make a surprise of anything, even if his life depended on it.” Dick said. And then with one last longing look at the out-of-doors, he plopped onto the bed next to Arthur and diligently applied his mind to the task of study.
As the boys are occupied in their studying, now would be the most opportune time we have had as of yet, to observe the general appearance of each of them.
At fifteen years of age, Dick Aldebourne was of a rather short build, but thick in the shoulders, and with a hand-grip like steel. His eyes were of a dark blue, which would have nearly always made him look moody, were it not for his short, almost-pudgy nose and the very few freckles which were scattered across it and his cheekbones. This succeeded in softening the tempest in his eyes to give him a more pensive and boyish look. Dick’s wiry black hair often straggled onto his forehead and poked out around his ears.
Arthur Keckilpenny, who was the same age as Dick, was tall and thin, though not lanky, for he too possessed strength. His hair was rather fine in texture and of a sandy brown color. It did not straggle as Dick’s did, but merely drooped as though it protested having to be on Arthur’s head. Arthur’s eyes were pale blue and his gaze was clear and steady so that one could look right past the blue and into Arthur’s soul to perceive that he kept no dark secrets, nor withheld any kindness from those who needed it.
While Arthur sonorously named the countries of southeast Asia, Dick thought of pandas and elephants and of Asian Pirates, who, in their warlike vessels, plundered ships upon the high seas. This mode of study was carried on until the bell rang for supper time.
-
The next day’s Chapel service hardly improved Dick’s temper, for it was still pouring rain.
To add to this frustration, the Chaplain would make a longer sermon than usual, and Dick’s collar suffocated him so, and the smells coming from the dining hall were certainly trying on a chap’s patience, as he later complained to Arthur, to which his friend only said, “Cheer up, Old Fellow, only a week left until summer holidays.”
This hardly served to cheer Dick, who mumbled something about, “merely exchanging one dreary place for another”.
-
The entirety of the week was spent in final examinations, through which Arthur came with flying colors. Dick was thankful that his marks were, at least, better than he had anticipated.
On Friday, St. Thomas’ was a beehive of activity, as the boys prepared to leave and parents or hired cabbies arrived to take them home.
Dick’s trunk had been packed and sent ahead of him to Derbyshire, where both he and Arthur lived.
As he left the dormitory, where he had spent yet another year with nine boys beside himself, Dick carried his remaining baggage down the halls of St. Thomas’.
Boys were shouting “good luck” to one another, and some were happily greeting their newly arrived families. Professors and scholars were bidding one another farewell, while the maids and the cook waved to the ones already departing.
In the midst of all this hubbub, Dick heard the voice of Kennan Digby calling to him from his classroom. “Aldebourne, would you be so kind as to step in a moment?”
Gripping his bag with both hands, Dick consented and joined the professor.
Kennan Digby was a portly little man of sixty or so years. His partially bald head was fringed with gray and on his pointed little nose sat a pair of round spectacles, behind which glimmered a pair of kind eyes. I cannot tell you what color they were, for no one ever took notice of that.
With a smile, Professor Digby seated himself at his desk. “Is your father coming to fetch you, Dick?”
A wry smile crossed Dick’s face. “No, sir.”
“I see. Sending someone else to fetch you, is he?” The professor asked.
“Yes, sir.” Dick’s countenance was now unreadable.
The professor cleared his throat. “Well, Dick, were you pleased with your marks this year?”
“I am quite satisfied, sir.”
“Good.” Professor Digby looked up from his desk. “So am I. I want you to know, Dick, you have improved greatly this year in your studies. I can see that you have diligently applied yourself.” The Professor smiled. “I am proud of you, my boy.”
Dick blinked in obvious surprise. “Th . . .thank you, sir.”
Keenan Digby rose from his chair, and pushed it back in place. He peered at Dick from behind his little spectacles. “That is all, Dick.” The professor straightened his coattails and placed his hands behind his back in an affable manner.
Dick raised his eyebrows. “Thank you, sir, I’m sure.” And then he turned to leave the classroom.
“Have a good holiday, Dick.” The professor cheerfully called after him.
Pausing in the doorway, Dick glanced back over his shoulder, gave a slight (and rather stiff) nod of acknowledgement. Then he was gone.
Out in the hallway again, Dick replied to the ‘goodbyes’ of his fellow students and of his teachers, and then he took his bag outside to wait for the driver that, no doubt, his father was sending in his stead.
Sitting down on a iron-wrought bench in the old schoolyard, Dick soon became lost in reflection. His pensive blue eyes gazed out past the arched stone entrance of St. Thomas’; past the school’s winding drive, and out towards the green hills beyond.
Dick loved those hills. He loved the way their green ridges shone when the sun bathed them in all its golden splendor, as though it were beckoning one to climb the heights. He loved the hills when the thunderclouds hung low on their brows, or when the gray mists gathered round, enveloping them in an aura of mystery.
In the midst of this reverie, Dick was roused by a shout from Arthur, “I say, Dick!”
Dick looked up to see his friend running towards him. “Come to say goodbye, Arthur?” Dick rose from his seat.
“No. Father sent me to come and fetch you; he says that your father didn’t have the time to hire a driver for you and asked if we would fetch you home.”
Dick’s face reddened. “I am sorry, Arthur.”
“Bosh! Not a bit of trouble. Come on.”
Dick seized his bag and followed his friend to where Arthur’s father was waiting by his horse and carriage.
“‘Ello, Dick! How are you then?” Arthur’s father inquired.
Dick smiled at the elder Keckilpenny. “Well enough, sir, thank you.”
James Keckilpenny was, in profession, a doctor. In physical appearance, he was much like his son. He was tall and trim, with the same clear blue eyes and sandy hair. In contrast to Arthur’s, however, his neatly waved to one side of his forehead.
Dr. Keckilpenny took Dick’s bag from him and placed it inside the carriage. “I hope you aren’t too disappointed-I mean, having to take the trip with us.”
“Not a bit of it.” Dick said, hopping into the carriage with Arthur and his father.
Dick, in fact, was relieved. He liked Arthur’s father and was happy that the four hour trip from Cheshire to Derbyshire would be spent in talking with him, rather than with a stranger.
The ride was enjoyable, more so to Dick than his school year had been. Keckilpenny and son kept him laughing nearly the entire trip. He was disappointed when the English countryside grew more familiar. Dotted at intervals along the roadside, little stone cottages with their white picket fences and neatly kept lawns, began to appear.
Being now within the bounds of their province, Dick caught sight of the little merchant’s shop where Arthur was employed and of the dusty little roads that ran between the cottages and public buildings. At last, Dick saw the Anglican church where his father was minister. The manse, which was within a half mile of the church, soon presented itself before Dick, in all of its stiff propriety.
Dick’s heart sank at the sight of the brick edifice. He loathed to leave the companionship of Arthur and his father and enter the somber atmosphere which he knew awaited him on the other side of the green manse door.
But when they pulled to a stop, Dick jumped out of the carriage, took his bag, which Arthur handed down, and then called a cheerful goodbye to his friends as they rattled off to their own home. He waved until they had disappeared around the bend, and then, taking a deep breath, and tightly gripping the handle of his bag, Dick made his way to the front door of the manse.
Dick pulled the latch, slowly pushed the door open and stepped into the front hall. All was hushed and still, like a sanctuary during a time of silent prayer. Dick set his bag down and softly called, “Hello?”
The quiet click of heels upon the polished floors came in reply to Dick’s salutation. It was their maid, Mary Ann.
“Oh, Mr. Richard, sir, I didn’t know you was home. When did you get ‘ere?”
“I just walked in, Mary Ann. Where is my mother?”
“In the parlor, Mr. Richard. Would you like me to tell ‘er you’re ‘ere?”
Just then, Mrs. Aldebourne came sweeping into the front hall. She came towards her son, with outstretched arms. “Richard, darling, you’re home.” Slim and erect, with soft waves of mahogany hair, and snapping black eyes, Clarice Aldebourne was the model of elegance and decorum. She was, as usual, dressed without extravagance, but with good taste and beauty .
Dick returned his mother’s embrace and after she had planted a dainty kiss on his cheek, he stepped back. “Is Father at home?”
“No, dear, not yet, but he should be along at any moment.” Mrs. Aldebourne reached out and brushed a bit of dust from Dick’s sleeve . “Did you enjoy the drive, Dear?”
Dick nodded. “Yes, Ma’am. I had a good time with Arthur and Mr. Keckilpenny.”
“That’s good, Dear.” And then, turning from her son, she was off, attending to her household duties. “Mary Ann, would you see that Henrietta has supper ready on time? Mr. Aldebourne should be home at any moment.”
“Yes, Mum.” With a departing curtsey, Mary Ann headed towards the kitchen.
Mrs. Aldebourne followed her. “And Mary Ann, see that the table is properly set this time; you placed one too many forks on it yesterday.”
Mary Ann’s “Yes, Mum” was barely heard by Dick, who, grabbing up his baggage, headed out of the hall, past the parlor, and then up the little back stairway towards his bedroom.
Dick’s room was spacious and neat. Upon entering, one’s gaze immediately fell to the left to Dick’s window, beneath which sat a little maple writing desk. Opposite the window was the bed, which was rather large. It was spread with a deep blue coverlet and pillows. Beside the bed, on the left, stood his bureau. Here, Dick set down his bag, and then went to peer out of his window.
Dick’s window overlooked the manse’s back garden, just as his dormitory window at St. Thomas’ did. The garden was no exception to the rest of the manse in its tidiness. It was spread out over four perfect squares, between which ran little stone pathways. The plants and flowers stood at attention in straight orderly rows. Dick was almost positive that weeds didn’t dare to set root in his mother’s garden.
A rap at Dick’s door informed him that his father was home and dinner was on the table. Leaving his unpacking for later, Dick left his bedroom and headed to the dining room, where he could hear the quiet murmur of his parents’ voices and the clinking of dishes as Mary Ann set the table.
Dick’s father was seated at the head of the table with his wife to his right. Dick, seating himself opposite his mother, replied to his father’s “good evening, Richard”, and then waited for his father to ask the blessing on their supper.
“Holy God, we ask Thy blessing as we partake of this meal. And we praise Thee for Thy wonderful bounty and care. . .”
As prayer presents a good opportunity to observe the Reverend Aldebourne without his stern eye being upon you, I will now direct the reader to notice that he is a much larger man than one would expect to see in a minister. He is very tall, with broad shoulders and thick arms. His big hands are folded as he prays, his head is bowed in reverence, and his solemn brow is furrowed down in concentration. His big rumbling voice is his greatest asset in the pulpit, combined with his penetrating green eyes, which have a way of disconcerting the stoutest in nature.
When his father’s prayer was finished, Dick joined in the “amen” and then waited as his mother served his father, and then she served Dick, and lastly herself. There was little conversation during the meal, aside from a few inquiries into Dick’s school year, to which the boy replied with limited enthusiasm.
At the end of the meal, Reverend Aldebourne wiped his mouth, and then, folding his napkin he set it on the table. “How were your marks this year, Richard?”
This was the moment of Dick’s homecoming which he always looked forward to with dread. “B-better, Father.”
“May I see them?”
“I-,”Dick looked up to meet his father’s gaze. “I left it in my bedroom-Sir.”
“Very well, we can look at them there.” Reverend Aldebourne rose from his seat. Dick, knowing that argument was futile, also rose.
Dick and his father left the dining room together and headed down the hall to the back stairs. With each step, Dick’s heart rebelled at having to endure such an ordeal every summer holiday. But, as nothing could be done to stop it, Dick entered his bedroom, with his father close at his heels, and then going to his bureau and his bag, he opened the latter and pulled out the paper which contained the grade for his entire school year.
Handing it to his father, Dick folded his hands behind his back and studied the patterns on the coverlet of his bed.
Reverend Aldebourne quickly perused Dick’s marks and then, placing the paper back in his son’s hands, and looking sternly at him, Reverend Aldebourne commenced speaking. “Richard,” He said in a deliberate tone. And then he paused before solemnly continuing, “I am disappointed in these marks. The son of a distinguished minister should be able to do better.”
Dick’s head shot up and his blue eyes snapped with a look of combined anger and humiliation. “I did the best I could, Father.”
Reverend Aldebourne’s eyebrows rose. “Did you indeed?” He shook his head. “I perceive from these marks that you did not try. It is obvious to me that your attitude towards schooling has been indifferent and lazy.”
Dick’s mouth opened, but he was afraid to interrupt his father.
The Reverend sighed, deeply. “Richard, if you continue in this headstrong way, you are bound to bring disgrace upon our family.”
“I haven’t done anything to bring disgrace!” Dick burst forth, passionately. “A fellow can only do with as much brains as he’s got!” And then he was suddenly silent, half shocked at, and half fearful of, his own boldness.
The eye of Reverend Aldebourne fell upon that of his son. “Your mother and I have raised you with dignity, and I expect you to conduct yourself accordingly.” He paused again, to allow the gravity of his words to penetrate. “If you cannot bring home better marks than these next term, I shall have to withdraw you from St. Thomas’ . . . and school you myself.”
Reverend Aldebourne abruptly turned and left his son’s room, firmly closing the door behind him.
Dick listened to his father’s heavy tread upon the stairway. Releasing his breath, and unclenching his jaw, Dick went to the window and looked out. A bolt of lightning shot across the sky and the crack of thunder that followed covered the sound of Dick’s clenched fist thumping down upon the window pane.
-
The next morning, Dick was stretched out beneath the elm tree in the Aldebourne garden, attempting to untangle the string of his kite. It was after tea time, and Dick was restless; much too restless to apply his mind to the task at hand.
Giving up with a sigh, Dick jumped to his feet and paced across the small yard adjoining the garden. Just as he was nearing the door which led into the kitchen, he was intercepted by Mary Ann, who was obviously looking for him.
“Please, Mr. Richard, sir; your Mother sends me to fetch you. She’s needin’ you to run an errand for ‘er.”
Dick followed Mary Ann into the house, and then into the parlor. There, Mrs. Aldebourne was arranging pink daisies with forget-me-nots in a porcelain vase.
Though it would have embarrassed him to admit it to anyone, Dick had always thought his mother beautiful. At this moment, she wore a pale green muslin dress over which was pinned a filmy white apron. Her dark hair was swept away from her face to form a cluster at the back of her head, while the remainder spilled down her back in rich mahogany waves.
Dick cleared his throat. “You wanted me, Mother?”
“Oh, yes, Richard.” Mrs. Aldebourne didn’t turn from her flowers. “There’s a basket of food there on the hall table from the ladies of the church.”
Dick waited.
“Would you take it to the Keckilpennys, please.”
Over Dick’s face crossed a look of surprise. “The Keckilpennys? They’re not in any need of charity, are they?”
“Oh, yes, didn’t you hear? They lost one of their boarders several months ago, and they had to let their maid go. They’ve nearly exhausted their funds in order to keep Arthur at St. Thomas’.” Clarice placed the flower arrangement upon the mantle piece and then stepped back to view its effect.
“I-I didn’t know.” Dick stammered.
Mrs. Aldebourne repositioned one of the daisies. “Arthur didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“Hmm-well, perhaps he doesn’t know either.”
“Perhaps not.”
“In any case, would you take it to them for me, Darling? I haven’t time to fetch it to them this afternoon.”
“Yes, Mother.”
-
Dick walked the mile to the Keckilpenny’s home within a half hour. At Dick’s knock on the Keckilpenny’s back door, he was promptly answered by none other than Arthur.
“Dick! Here so soon? Did you miss me that much, Old Fellow?” Arthur was strangely dressed, with a large top hat on his head, walking cane in his hand, and oversized coat on his back. But the wide grin he wore was ever the same.
Dick stepped into the Keckilpenny’s kitchen. “I didn’t miss you a’ tall.” Then he looked inquisitively at his friend’s
strange attire, “I say, why are you dressed that way then?”
Arthur looked down at his clothing as though he had forgotten what he was wearing. “Oh!” He chuckled. “I was playing tea time with Lucy and Roberta. It gives Mother a rest now and then. Do you want to join us?” Arthur grinned.
Dick laughed. “I think I can do without-thank you just the same.” And then, unsure of how Arthur would take to charity, he hesitatingly held out the basket of food and said, “Mother sent me to fetch this to you.”
“I say, how friendly.” Arthur took the basket from Dick and set it on a little round table, and peered inside it. Then he called out. “Mother! Dick Aldebourne is here and he brought us some food from his mother!”
“What’s that? Dick?” These words were accompanied by the swishing of someone’s dress and the click, click, click of her heels as she entered the kitchen. Arthur’s mother appeared, carrying baby Henry. Madeline Keckilpenny was a plump little woman with silvery hair and laughing blue eyes that crinkled at the corners. Upon seeing Dick, she exclaimed, “Dick Aldebourne! How are you, my dear?”
“Well, Madame, I thank you.”
“See what Dick’s brought us, Mother.” Arthur said, showing his mother the basket.
Mrs. Keckilpenny looked at the basket over little Henry’s head. “Oh, Dick, how kind you are.”
“Mother sent it by me.” Dick explained.
“Well, you thank ‘er for us.”
“Oh, I certainly will.”
At that moment, Lucy and Roberta Keckilpenny came bursting into the kitchen. “Arthur, Arthur, we need you now!” Each girl grabbed one of their brother’s hands.
“Lucy, Roberta, say ‘ello to Mr. Dick.” Mrs. Keckilpenny reproved.
“‘Ello!” Six-year-old Lucy, who had a head full of brown curls, flashed a smile Dick’s way, revealing two missing teeth as she did. Dick, though he was little accustomed to young children, couldn’t help but smile back at her.
Eight-year-old Roberta only stared at him and hid behind her brother’s coattail.
“Won’t you stay to supper with us, Dick?” Mrs. Keckilpenny asked, bouncing little Henry, who had started to cry.
Dick turned his gaze from Lucy to Mrs. Keckilpenny “Oh, no thank you, Madame, I’d best be off now-Father won’t like it if I’m late.”
“That’s fine then. You tell your father and mother ‘ello from us, ay?”
“I shall indeed.”
“Arthur, why don’t you walk your friend back to the road?”
“Yes, Mother.” Arthur removed his ridiculous outfit, and the clinging hands of the two little girls, and then he and Dick left the kitchen as Mrs. Keckilpenny called out a goodbye.
-
When Dick and Arthur had walked a distance from the house, Dick, turned to his friend. “Arthur, is it true about you losing the boarder and the maid?”
At this abrupt question, Arthur looked at him, a little strangely. “Yes.”
“Then you’re-I mean, can you . . .” Dick stuttered. “You’re not going back to St. Thomas’?”
Arthur looked at the ground and then, shoving his hands in his pockets, he shook his head. “No, Dick. I shan’t be able to. Father and Mother need my help here.”
“I am sorry, Old Fellow.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.” Arthur cheerfully answered. His chin rose. “It’s the last year, and I’m only sorry because I shan’t be there with you.”
“Well, it mightn’t make any difference.” Dick mumbled, half to himself.
“What’s that?” Arthur asked.
“Nothing.” Dick stuck out a hand to Arthur, who offered one of his own. Dick clasped his friend’s hand and warmly shook it. “I’ll see you, Arthur.” And he was off down the road with a wave.
-
After supper that evening, Dick’s father sat him down in the parlor and while Mrs. Aldebourne quietly attended to her needlework, the minister informed his son that he expected Dick to take employment for the summer. “And as for the time left over, I believe that additional study this summer would be beneficial.”
All of which, Dick replied to with a meek, “Yes, Father.”
“I will oversee your education myself.” Reverend Aldebourne said, “You need a bit more discipline to tame that wandering mind of yours.”
At this announcement, the only sound which Dick could hear was his mother’s cat, Pansy, cleaning her paws. Dick felt as though his heart had stopped. His mouth went dry and he wished with everything in him that he hadn’t complained so much about St. Thomas’. Perhaps this was God’s retribution for his ungratefulness. Outdoors, the noise of a chirping cricket joined in with the tiny rasp of Pansy’s tongue. At last, all Dick could think to say was, “Y-Yes, Father.”
After this satisfactory reply, Mrs. Aldebourne took up the family Bible and read aloud from the Old Testament book of Numbers, while the Reverend closed his eyes in thoughtful reflection and Dick hardly dared to stir, lest his father should open his eyes and catch Dick doing something amiss.
After this nightly ritual was finished, Dick was sent up to bed and reminded to say his prayers.
-
A week or so later, Dick had just escaped from the manse after a harrowing school lesson with his father. Feeling rather drained, he shuffled down the road, his hands in his pockets, with no other object in mind but that of being in solitude.
Before he knew it, Dick had wandered past the church and was approaching the merchant’s shop where Arthur worked. Thus far, Dick had not noticed the few people and horses which had passed by him, but now, looking up, and seeing his friend’s place of employment, he decided to go in and take a good dose of Arthur for his malady.
“If Arthur can’t cheer me, I don’t know what can.” Dick pushed open the shop door and stepped inside. The shop being nearly deserted, Dick made his way to the counter where he found Arthur exchanging money with a customer. When he had finished, Dick stepped up to the counter and greeted his friend. On seeing him, Arthur said, “Dick, what are you about?”
Dick sighed. “Very little.”
At this moment, Elias Cunningham, the proprietor of the shop stepped out of the back room and gave greeting to Dick, who politely replied. The man began scribbling down figures in a brown ledger and Dick turned back to his friend. “Father says I must find employment this summer, Arthur. Do you know of anything?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, I’m sorry to say that I don’t. But I’ll tell you if I hear of anything.” And then turning to his employer, who was absorbed in his writing, Arthur addressed him with, “You haven’t heard of anything, have you, Mr. Cunningham?”
“Eh? What’s that?” Mr. Cunningham looked at Arthur over the top of his spectacles. The store keeper was a man of some fifty years, with a closely trimmed mustache and beard. His hair was still quite dark and thick, with only a few graying streaks at the sides.
“I say; you haven’t heard of anyone wanting to employ a young boy, have you?” Arthur repeated.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I do.”
“You do?” Dick and Arthur spoke as one.
“Yes. I need a boy to deliver groceries for me around town and to some of the houses a little further out. I’ve been doing it myself, but I don’t wish to continue. If you want the job, Dick, you are more than welcome to it.” Mr. Cunningham offered.
“Thank you, Mr. Cunningham, I would very much like the job.” Dick was quite surprised at how easily everything had come off. He hadn’t really expected to find any employment with such little effort and he was very pleased with the idea of being a delivery boy.
Mr. Cunningham smiled at Dick. “You can start the job tomorrow, so long as your father approves.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. Cunningham. He shan’t mind in the least, I’m sure.” Dick shook the man’s hand and then shot a grin at Arthur. “I’ll see you later, my good chap.”
And then Dick left the shop and made his way homeward.
-
Dick’s father, who had no complaint to make of the respectable Elias Cunningham, approved of Dick’s employment as his delivery boy.
And so, the next day, Dick was given the names of several people, directions to their respective dwellings, and a money bag with which to collect their payments and to render any necessary change. “I dare say, I can trust a minister’s son.” Elias Cunningham smiled as he handed the bag to Dick.
Dick accepted it gravely and afterward kept it safe in his belt. I can assure you, he was always checking to make sure he had not lost it during his delivery rounds.
Several times a week in the afternoons, following the trying lessons with his father in the mornings, Dick ran to Mr. Cunningham’s shop, received the names of the costumers whom he was to deliver goods to that day and, after counting what money he had in the pouch for change, Dick would set off down the road.
Very soon, Dick became familiar with, and efficient in, his route. He was glad for the freedom his new employment gave to him and for the time it enabled him to spend out-of-doors.
As to the money, Dick gave little thought to such a thing. This was to his benefit, as his father took a goodly portion of the boy’s earnings. The motives of the Reverend Aldebourne in doing this, I cannot disclose to you, but leave to your own sensibilities.
The remainder of Dick’s payment was rarely spent on himself, but was more often than not sent home with Arthur. This, of course, was without Arthur’s knowledge, who had, on several occasions, found the money in his hat or lunch sack, or some other personal item which he had happened to leave lying about while he was working.
Though he was at first puzzled by this mystery, Arthur soon discovered the truth when he caught Dick at it one day. Arthur at once told him to “leave off”. In reply to this threat, Dick solemnly agreed, but was found repeating the crime the next day. As Dick would not be deterred, Arthur could only shake his head at him with a grin and say, “Bless you, Dick,” in an exasperated tone.
-
Dick’s happy career as delivery boy, however, was not long in duration. He had been at the job for little more than a month when an incident occurred, the details of which I will now relay to you.
The reader must first know that the Reverend Aldebourne had been away for several days, visiting his sick mother. Moving onward from this fact, I will proceed to say that the afternoon before the incident was a very fine one.
On account of his father’s absence, there was no lesson to mar the tranquility of Dick’s morning. In addition to this, his mother had gone about her household duties, leaving Dick unhindered in his boyish pursuits. On this particular morning, these consisted of: tying a lit candle to the end of Pansy’s tail, (which experiment merely ended in the candle sputtering out); catching a six-legged insect, which Dick could not identify; skipping as many stones as he could across the duck pond; and locking Mary Ann in the linen closet.
This last escapade did arouse his mother enough to command his departure from the house. This, Dick obeyed. However, his exuberance was hardly dissipated as his father was not at home to punish him and his mother was more than likely to be distracted by other things so that she would forget to tell him of Dick’s misbehavior.
In these good spirits then, Dick went about his afternoon’s work. He had made several deliveries and was on his last. This one was to an elderly widow lady named Hill.
When Dick arrived, Mrs. Hill was leaning on her cane outside of her little house, speaking with a raggedy looking boy of about twelve years of age. Upon seeing Dick, Mrs. Hill excused herself to the other boy, and commenced business with Dick. Taking the box of groceries from him, and giving him the payment, Mrs. Hill hobbled up the steps and into her front door. She had just disappeared from view when Dick heard a crash. He had been in the midst of putting the payment into the money pouch and, upon hearing the clatter inside, Dick dropped the pouch on the front steps and ran inside to see what had happened.
The old lady had not fallen as Dick had at first suspected, but had merely dropped the groceries. “Are you alright, Mrs. Hill?” Dick bent to retrieve the spilled goods from the floor.
The elderly woman laid a hand over her heart. “Oh, dear me, yes; it just slipped out of my hands.”
“Nothing at all is broken, Madame.” Dick placed the groceries back in the box as he spoke.
“Oh, thank you, Dick.”
Dick smiled. “Not at all.”
Mrs. Hill now asked, “Would you carry it to my kitchen?” Dick consented, and she pointed out the way to him. She then took a wobbly step toward the door, leaning on her cane as she did. “I want to go back outside and give that poor little boy a coin.”
When Dick had safely deposited the groceries in the lady’s kitchen, he went back outside. He retrieved his money pouch, called a good-bye to Mrs. Hill, who was still speaking to the other boy, and then he proceeded down the road towards Mr. Cunningham’s shop.
Arthur was not working when Dick arrived. Instead, Mr. Cunningham was behind the counter, conducting business with several costumers. Not wishing to disturb him, Dick left the money pouch in the storeroom, returned Mr. Cunningham’s wave as he passed the counter, and then headed out the door to go home.
-
The next morning, Dick returned to Cunningham’s shop. He had not taken three steps towards the counter when out from behind it sprang Elias Cunningham himself. “So! It’s you? You certainly have a lot of nerve to show your face in my establishment!”
Dick, taken aback, was incapable of speech.
“Thought you could get away with it, ay?” Mr. Cunningham strode forward and grabbed Dick by the collar.
“Please . . . I . . .” Dick stammered in bewilderment.
Mr. Cunningham’s hold tightened. “The respectable son of a clergyman, eh?” He sneered, giving Dick a vicious shake with each word.
“I say!” Dick protested, flaring up. He wrenched himself free from his employer’s grasp. “What is the matter?” He demanded.
“Yesterday you began with a half crown in your pouch, did you not?”
Dick’s brows furrowed. “Yes - I - I think so.”
“According to my books, you should have come back here with a half guinea. Did people forget to pay you?”
Dick stared at him. “Of course not. Everyone paid.”
“Aha! Then how do you explain the five shillings sixpence that is missing?”
Dick gazed at his employer in bewilderment. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Lies shall not avail you.”
“I say!” Dick exclaimed, at last comprehending. “You don’t think I took it, do you?”
“There wasn’t anyone here besides me when you brought it back.”
Mr. Cunningham’s accusatory tone annoyed Dick and the boy turned red, nearly to the tips of his ears. “I did not steal anything! I never did!”
At this moment, the shop door opened and in walked a customer by the name of Leventhorpe. Upon hearing the shouts, and seeing Dick’s collar in the grip of Elias Cunningham, the white-haired Mr. Leventhorpe said, “What’s this? Caught a thief, did you, Cunningham?”
“I did indeed.” The shop keeper glared at Dick.
“I’m not a thief!” Dick loudly protested.
Mr. Leventhorpe’s walking cane clumped as he walked across the shop to where they were standing. “Good gracious! Isn’t this the Reverend Aldebourne’s son?” He pushed his hat off of his brow as if to better view Dick.
“It is.” Mr. Cunningham affirmed.
“What’s he stolen from you?”
“Money.”
“Dear me! How much?”
“Five and six.”
“What? Such a paltry amount? Why not let the boy pay it?” Mr. Leventhorpe suggested.
“Eh?” Mr. Cunnigham raised an eyebrow.
“He is the reverend’s son. Wouldn’t do to bring disgrace upon the family for such a small affair as this. Why not let him give it back?”
With some hesitation, Mr. Cunningham said, “I . . . suppose I could.” He then turned back to Dick. “You hear that? I’ll not say a word to anyone if you pay the five and six.”
Dick’s chin lifted in defiance. “I never took a farthing from you!”
“Come, Dick, the evidence is against you. You were the only one here besides me. You may as well pay up.”
Dick’s demeanor softened some. “I - I haven’t got any money.”
“What! What about all the money I’ve been paying you to make deliveries?”
“What my father didn't take I gave to Arthur Keckilpenny.”
“More lies!” Mr. Cunningham shouted. “Very well! Your father shall pay me then, and not a single soul shall be ignorant of your theft!” He accompanied his words with a box to Dick’s ear. Mr. Cunningham gave Dick a shove which sent him sprawling to the floor. “Get out of my shop! And don’t you set foot ‘ere again, or I’ll send for a constable.”
Struggling to his feet, Dick faced the two men. Throwing back his shoulders, Dick met Mr. Cunningham’s scornful gaze with a fiery glare of his own. “I stole nothing!” He stubbornly maintained. And then he ran out of the shop.
-
All the remainder of that morning and all of the afternoon, Dick felt stunned. He said nothing to his mother of what had happened, but merely shut himself up in his room and tried to read a book. Nearly every paragraph, however, Dick would stop and ask himself if he had been accused of theft that morning; or wasn’t it just something he had dreamt? And then Dick would look back at his book and see upon its pages the accusing face of Elias Cunningham and feel again the stinging blow upon his ear.
Dick kept himself hidden away until supper time, when his father returned and he was obliged to come down.
During the meal, Mrs. Aldebourne said to her husband, “How did you leave your mother today?”
“Much improved.” Reverend Aldebourne accepted the plate that his wife handed to him.
“I am glad to hear it.”
Dick only listened and ate. He had no appetite, but was afraid that his father would sense something amiss if he were to neglect his supper.
After supper was over, Dick’s father rose and, taking his hat, said to his wife, “There’s to be a meeting tonight at the church.”
“Who is meeting?” Clarice asked.
“The elders. I shan’t be gone too late.”
As Reverend Aldebourne was going out the front door, he turned to Dick. “Richard, have you studied your lesson?”
“N-no Father, I haven’t.”
His father’s eyes narrowed and, for a moment, Dick thought that he was going to be angry. “I suggest you do it then.” And then, without another word, Reverend Aldebourne went out the door.
With a heavy sigh, Dick went upstairs to obey his father’s command.
-
An hour passed and Clarice Aldebourne sat knitting in the parlor. Outside, the wind was mournfully whistling and she could hear an occasional clap of thunder.
Suddenly, the door burst open with a bang and in strode the Reverend. His hat was missing, his hair was rumpled and his eyes were burning with indignation. “Where is Richard?” Behind him, through the open door, a bolt of lightning lit the sky.
With a frightened look at her husband’s face, Mrs. Aldebourne stammered, “U-upstairs, studying-I believe. Is . . . is there . . . something wrong, Dear?”
But he was not listening to her. In a voice that matched the thunder outside, Reverend Aldebourne bellowed, “RICHARD!”
Clarice’s eyes widened in surprised.
It was only a matter of seconds before Dick was standing in the hall in front of his father. Reverend Aldebourne was pacing like a caged lion, but he stopped in mid-stride and whirled to face his son. “Do you know what’s happened?”
Dick shook his head, unable to find words. He had never seen nor heard his father in such a state, and was more afraid of him than he had ever been.
With his eyes burning, the Reverend stopped his pacing in front of Dick. “They’ve turned me out, that’s what!”
“What!?” Clarice was in the hall now. “Out of the church you mean?”
“Just so!”
She gasped and put a hand up to her mouth. She was preparing to ask what for, when the Reverend pointed an accusatory finger at Dick. “And it’s all on account of you!”
Dick drew back from him, breathing hard. His father advanced after him and grabbed hold of Dick’s arm. “Stealing money from respectable gentlemen!” He gave Dick’s arm a jerk.
“No!” Dick cried out. “I . . .”
“Silence!” John Aldebourne roared, tightening his grip. “Elias Cunningham showed up at the elder’s meeting; he told us everything.”
“I didn’t . . .” Dick began but was again cut off.
“Do you know what it is you’ve done!? You’ve disgraced our family-soiled the name of Aldebourne!” The Reverend’s eyes narrowed at Dick and he flung aside the boy’s arm. Then, in a lower, but more terrible voice, he said, “Get out.”
Dick’s mouth dropped open and he could only stare at his Father in disbelief.
Clarice broke in, “But, John, where will he go?”
“Clarice!” With a word and a look, Reverend Aldebourne
silenced his wife. Then he turned back to Dick. “Leave here at once-you are no longer my son.”
Dick turned away from his parents and painfully climbed the stairs to his room. Mechanically, he found his bag and threw in some clothes. He was too shocked to be either angry or sad.
When Dick re-entered the hall, his mother had disappeared, but his father was still standing there. The Reverend’s hands were folded behind his back and his jaw was clenched in anger. He did not look at Dick.
Outside, a clap of thunder resounded, immediately followed by the swish of rain. Dick alternated between listening to the storm and glancing at his father’s drawn and glowering face.
Suddenly, a righteous anger welled up within Dick. He approached his father until he was nearly toe to toe with the big man. Dick looked up at him and said, in calm, deliberate tones, “Father, I’m leaving. But before I go, I shall say one thing.” Dick saw his father’s lips twitch, but he did not reply. “I stole nothing.” Dick said, through gritted teeth. “It matters not what Mr. Cunningham, or you, or this entire town says of me-I shall maintain it until my dying day.” And then he turned from his father and left the manse.
As Dick was leaving through the kitchen door, he met his mother. Her eyes were full of tears. “Where shall you go?”
Dick paused for a moment with his hand on the door latch and the rain pounding around him and nearly flooding into the kitchen. Neither Dick nor his mother noticed. Dick looked into his mother’s frightened eyes. “To the Keckilpenny’s, Mother-they’ll take me in.”
Mrs. Aldebourne took hold of Dick’s hand and Dick felt her put a coin into his palm. Her lips trembled and she whispered. “Be careful.” Then she pressed a kiss to Dick’s cheek and was gone.
-
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You may want to avoid tag lines like he said or she asked. Instead use descriptive sentences that show the writer who is talking. For example: "I didn't do it!" Dan clenched his fist as his cheeks grew red.
It shows who is speaking and shows the reader what he is doing.
You have a great deal of talent. I hope you keep polishing your stories up some and keep writing wonderful, suspenseful tales.