LITTLE BERTRAM
"Arthur," said Miss Elton to her brother, as they sat by the fire that evening talking over the events of the day, "has it ever occurred to you that there is a striking likeness between that little Willie Brown and our Gladys?"
"No, dear," was the answer, "I cannot say that it has. I have often thought him very superior to the other children, and he is not in the least like his brother Bob."
"Well, Nora Graham called my attention to the fact this afternoon, and it has haunted me ever since. Do you think, Arthur, it could be by any chance? Little Bertram would have been just about his age now," wistfully.
"My dear Winnie," returned her brother, "I should not allow myself to raise any such hopes on that point if I were you. You have been disappointed so often."
"Still," she persisted, "there is just a chance, and we dare not leave a single stone unturned to find poor Marion's boy."
"No," he replied, "but we have so little to go upon. It is four years now since Marion died, and the only clue we could have at all is that tiny mark upon the shoulder."
"Well," she said, "if I go and see the child and find out what I can from him, will you go to Primrose Place and see if you can trace anything of his parents?"
"Certainly I will," was the answer. "You know, dear, I am as anxious to find the child as you are. It maddens one to think of the little chap being brought up in one of those filthy alleys. I don't wonder it killed his mother."
"No, indeed," said Miss Elton, her eyes filled with tears. "Poor Marion!"
Some years before our story opens Miss Elton's only sister had married an artist living in a pretty village in Surrey, and there about a year afterwards their little boy Bertram was born. His parents idolized him, and he was the pet and plaything of every one who had anything to do with him. When he was just about one year old, his mother, Mrs. Vincent, had in her service a housemaid who had a violent temper. It happened that one day Mrs. Vincent had occasion to reprove her for some fault, and the girl was heard to declare that she would "pay her out for it." Soon after Mr. and Mrs. Vincent went to spend a day with some friends living at a distance, leaving little Bertram in charge of his nurse, thinking her a woman they could trust. Great was their dismay, however, when they returned to find both Bertram and Ellen, the housemaid, missing. The nurse seemed to be almost beside herself with terror, and they could get very little information from her. She said that Ellen had offered to mind the baby while she went to dress. She missed them when she came down, but thinking that they were somewhere about the grounds, she took no notice but went on with some work in the nursery. When tea was ready she went out to look for them, but they were nowhere to be seen. Feeling thoroughly frightened, she called the cook, and together they searched the house and grounds, but no trace of Ellen or the baby could be found. Poor Mrs. Vincent was almost out of her mind with grief when she realized that her darling baby was lost. The father haunted the police stations and hospitals longing for news of the boy. But it was all in vain, little Bertram had completely disappeared. Mr. and Mrs. Vincent never saw their child again; a month or two afterwards the father was thrown from a trap and killed, and when Gladys was born soon after, the poor mother could not recover the shock and she followed her husband. On her death-bed she made her brother and sister promise that they would look after Gladys, and also do all in their power to find Bertram.
Faithfully these two kept their word. Aunt Winnie had been a good mother to little Gladys, and in the hope that they might some day come across the little boy, they had started their mission among the waifs of London. So far, however, it had been all in vain. Sometimes they fancied they had a clue, but it always led to nothing, and they had almost begun to think the task hopeless, when Miss Elton's attention was directed to Willie Brown.
Directly breakfast was over the next morning Mr. Elton and his sister set out on their errand of inquiry. In spite of her brother's counsel not to think too much about it, Miss Elton could not help feeling strangely hopeful, for something seemed to tell her that at last God had heard her prayers, and little Bertram would be restored to those who loved him. On arriving at Mrs. Blair's house she encountered Bob just marching off with his broom. "Why Bob," she exclaimed delightedly, "you will be late for business this morning. How is this?"
"Yes'm," he began awkwardly, blushing to the roots of his hair. It was the first time such a thing had occurred since he started his crossing, and he felt himself in disgrace.
"Well, ma'am, begging your pardon," broke in Mrs. Blair, "and who could blame him if he is? It isn't every day those two dear children go to a Christmas party; not a wink of sleep did they get this blessed night long. Little Willie there was so full of that pretty little lady that took so much notice of him—-'the little angel,' he calls her."
"I am very glad you were late this morning, Bob," said Miss Elton, "for I want to talk to you both. So, Willie," turning to the little fellow, "you like my girlie, do you? Would you like to see her again?"
"Yes, please'm," said Willie, his eyes sparkling.
"Well, then," was the answer, "Bob must bring you to my house, and you must play with her there. But, now," she went on, "I want you to tell me all you can about yourselves. Do you remember your mother, Bob?"
"Yes'm," replied Bob; "she used to drink awful."
"Has she been dead long?"
"Yes; she died when Willie wor a kid. I know, 'cos 'e was jist a-tryin' to walk by 'isself. 'E 'ad no one then to look arter 'im but me," he added.
"Well," replied Miss Elton, "you have looked after him very well. I am sure Willie has been very happy when he has been with you. He is a dear little fellow," drawing the child closer to her and gazing into his face. Yes, he certainty was the image of Gladys; she could see it plainly now. How strange that she had never noticed it before!
She sat talking to them some time longer, and then, slipping a shilling into Bob's hand, she asked him to stay and play with Willie to-day.
Once outside the door she turned eagerly.
"Mrs. Blair," she said, to that lady's astonishment, "do you think Willie is really Bob's brother?"
"Bless me, miss," was the answer, "I haven't never thought about it.
He always calls him his brother."
"They are not much alike," said Miss Elton.
"No," replied Mrs. Blair; "but I don't know that that shows anything?
"Have you ever seen Willie undressed?" went on her questioner.
"Lor' bless you, yes!" she replied. "Why, only yesterday I gave him a good wash before he went to the tea-party." And she looked, at Miss Elton wonderingly.
"Did you notice anything about him—any particular marks about his body,
I mean?"
"No," was the answer. "Stay, though, I think I did see a little red mark on his shoulder. But it was nothing much."
"Oh, thank you," said Miss Elton joyously, though her eyes were brimming over with tears. "No, I mustn't say anything yet; but, Mrs. Blair, will you bring the children up to my house this afternoon? This is my address," handing her a card. "You can get an omnibus near here that will take you all the way to West Kensington."
Having Mrs. Blair's promise that she would be there in good time, Miss Elton hastened home. Her brother had not yet returned, but she could settle to nothing till he came. She wandered about from the library to the drawing-room, then up to the nursery, where she caught Gladys up in her arms and danced with her about the room, while the little one screamed with delight.
At last the door-bell rang, and she rushed down to meet her brother in the hall.
"Well, dear," she cried, "what news?"
"My dear Winnie," replied her brother, "you are a perfect tornado.
Let me get inside;"
"Be quick, then," was the answer, and she pulled him into the drawing-room.
Seating himself in a chair, he proceeded to give her an account of his morning's work. When he arrived at Primrose Place he could not find any trace of the man Brown. An old woman who lived in the same house said that he had left the place soon after the boys went away. She said she remembered the children quite well, but she did not think they were brothers, because she knew a young woman came there about five years ago, bringing a baby with her, which she left. Mrs. Brown always gave out that it was her own, but she didn't ever remember her having a baby, and she didn't think it was her own. Brown himself was doing two years in gaol at the time Mrs. Brown died soon after he came out. She said that the children led a dreadful life with the man, and she was glad when they went away. "So you see, Winnie," he concluded, "that is all I could find out, and it is not enough to go upon."
"Ah, well," she replied, shaking her head, "Willie is coming here this afternoon, and then you will see. I am certain 'we have found Bertram."
And so sure was she, that her next business was to order the carriage and set off to the shop to buy a suit for Willie. Everything that the boy could possibly, want in the shape of underclothes was bought, and then the little velvet suit that Nora Graham had suggested, with the lace collar, was added.
Precisely at three o'clock Mrs. Blair appeared with the children. Little Gladys was delighted to see Willie, and would sit next to him at the table while they had some tea. Mr. Elton came in and looked at them, and he, too, was struck with the likeness between the children.
After tea Miss Elton took Willie to the nursery saying she had some clothes for him and she wanted to see them on.
"Here, nurse," she said to the servant who was waiting; "this is the little boy I told you about."
"Bless his dear heart!" said the woman, catching him in her arms.
"I should have known Master Bertie anywhere."
Miss Elton was very glad now that Bertram's old nurse had stayed on to look after Gladys, for now that she recognized the child she felt all her doubts laid to rest for ever, and she stood looking on while nurse took off the ragged clothes exposed to view the tiny mark on the little bare shoulder.
"There, ma'am," she exclaimed, "that is proof enough. Oh, if only my dear mistress had lived to see this day!"
"We will believe she does see it," returned Miss Elton, "and I am sure she is glad with us."
The dressing was quickly finished, and with his shining face and nicely-combed hair he looked, as Miss Elton said, "like a little prince."
Taking his hand, she led him down to the dining-room and exhibited him to the others. Mrs. Blair gazed at him open-mouthed. Gladys ran to him, and, throwing her arms round his neck, kissed him delightedly, saying, "G'adys 'ove 'oo, 'ickle boy!"
Bob alone made no sign. He did not know what to make of this new Willie. Miss Elton called him to her. "Bob," she said, "many years ago my little nephew was stolen away from his home. I have searched for him everywhere, but could not find him; but to-day I have found out that you have been taking care of him for me all this time. Are you glad that Willie is my little boy?"
"Will 'e be always dressed like that?" asked Bob.
"Yes," was the answer.
"Won't 'e be 'ungry and cold any more?"
"No, my boy."
"Then I'm glad—but oh, Willie," and he broke down sobbing.
"Why, what is the matter?" asked Miss Elton.
"Oh!" sobbed the boy, "I shan't never see 'im no more!"
"Why, Bob," said Miss Elton, "what are you saying? Of course you will see Willie. Do you think I would separate you after you have been so good to him? Listen to me. Would you like to come and live here with Willie? Then you could go to school, and still look after him as you always have done."
And so it was settled. Gladys was delighted with her new brother, and she ruled him like a little queen, while he became her willing slave and gave in to her in everything. They went down into the country to live, where Bertram soon grew rosy and strong, while Mrs. Blair was given a pretty little lodge to live in at the gate, which she said reminded, her of her old home when she was a girl.
Bob was sent to a good school, where he himself so eager and quick to learn that Mr. Elton sent him on to college; and when he became a clergyman he chose a parish in the East End of London, where he devoted his life to working among boys who were as poor as he himself once was.