Worthy of his Name by Eglanton Thorne

THE summer weeks passed by, and brought little variation into Gus' life. Only the baby seemed to grow daily heavier, and to weary him more and more as he dragged him about in the heat. And as the baby's mother grew more addicted to "taking something," and resting after it, she thrust every task she could upon the boy who had to "earn his keep. " But Gus never grumbled. He did his best sturdily; he did not lose patience with the baby, restless, struggling, fretful little mortal though he was, nor was he ever cross to the other little ones who called Sally Dent mother. But he prized every leisure moment he could spend with Lucy.

Sometimes on a Sunday they could get a quiet hour together, and then they would read from Lucy's Bible some passage in the history of the Lord Jesus-"the truest gentleman as ever was," as Gus loved to say, remembering the lady's words. And already the little boy's life was guided by a conscious effort to follow the example of the highest, holiest Manhood.

Lucas continued to treat Gus kindly, but Gus did not see much of him or of his son during the summer weeks. They would often be away from home for several nights, and Lucy never seemed to know exactly when they would return. And as Gus saw no fresh indications of anything being wrong, he ceased to think about those words from Lucy which had so startled him. He noticed that things seemed less prosperous with Lucas than formerly. There was not so much butter and jam going, and Lucy's cookery did not send forth such savoury odours. Perhaps Lucas had given up his dishonest practices, and was living strictly within his lawful means. Gus was glad to believe this.

One day, when summer was fairly gone, Lucas asked Gus if he could go out for a tramp with him and Jack.

Gus had little hope that Sally Dent would let him go, but he ran to ask her. At first she said she could not spare him; but when she heard that Lucas wanted him, she gave her consent. Lucas was too good a lodger for her to risk offending him.

Gus set out in capital spirits. It was a bright autumn day. The air was fresh and invigorating, the sunshine brilliant. Already the trees were touched with warm brown and gold, and in the gardens which they passed the dead leaves lay thick.

Strange to say, Lucas and his son took Gus exactly the same tramp they had taken him before. He passed and looked with interest on the little iron schoolroom in which he had had his first experience of a Sunday school. A little further on was the shop where he had tendered the bad florin. Gus' cheeks glowed with shame now as he thought of it, and he slunk quickly past the shop, hoping the woman would not see him.

A little farther on along the road was a large house, "standing in its own grounds," as the advertisements say. Beyond the garden lay fields, so that the position of the house was quite isolated. This house seemed greatly to interest Lucas and his son. They hung about the gate for some time, furtively watching a gardener who was engaged in sweeping the lawn. The garden was bright with chrysanthemums and dahlias, but not prettier than many they had seen; so that Gus wondered why they lingered there so long. At last they heard a church clock strike twelve, and soon afterwards the gardener laid down his broom and disappeared.

"Now, Gus, come with me," said Lucas.

He led him a little way up the shrubbery, till they were almost in sight of the house; then he said-

"Look here, if you do as I tell you, I'll give you twopence. I want you to go all round the house-this way, see-till you come to the kitchen door, where you must knock and ask for a piece of bread."

"I'm not a beggar," said Gus, colouring.

"Well, never mind, ask for a drink of water-anything. Don't be a duffer. I'll make it sixpence, if you do it to please me; and just keep your eyes open as you go; see if the windows under the verander come right down to the ground, and find out if they keep a dog, and whether there's a man-servant, and what time they have their dinner."

"But who am I to ask? " said Gus, looking bewildered.

"Find out without asking if you can, but if not there's the cook; surely a pretty boy like you can get round the cook. And not a word about our being here, mind. Now, off with you."

Gus moved away reluctantly. He did not like the errand; had he had the least idea for what purpose Lucas desired this information, he would have refused to seek it.

He followed the path which ran in front of the verandah. It was not the direct path to the kitchen, but Lucas had purposely sent him that way. Yes, the windows beneath the verandah came to the ground; Gus noticed that, and then, turning the corner of the house, he found himself before a window of the same description, which stood wide open to the sunlight, and his unexpected appearance startled a young lady, who sat just within, and scared away a poor half-starved kitten, to whom she was giving a saucer of milk. The young lady uttered a faint cry as she rose quickly; but the next moment she recognised Gus, and smiled on him.

"Why, you are Gus! " she said. "The poor little Gus whom I had in my class one afternoon. I hoped you would come again, but you have never been."

"I couldn't get away any more," said Gus.

"And were you coming to see me now?"