But he found Providence just over the wall. For there sat Vara and there was the great stone behind which they had spent the night. All his wanderings had just brought him back to where he had started from. But for all that he was exceedingly glad to see Vara.
He called her, standing still on the top of the wall. She started up as if she had heard a voice from the grave. And the face which she turned to him was colourless like chalk.
[223]
"Wi' Vara," said Hugh, "what's wrang? Your face looks terrible clean?"
"O, Boy Hugh—Boy Hugh," she cried, bursting into relieving tears, "it's you. What a night you have given me!"
But not a word of reproach came from the lips of Vara Kavannah. She had, indeed, enough to do to keep the babe quiet. For having run hither and thither over the moor looking for her brother, she had not had time to seek for any farmhouse where she could get some milk for Gavin's bottle.
In a little, however, they were again walking hand in hand, and Boy Hugh was pouring out all the story of his adventures in the Paradise of the House of Rascarrel.
Chiefly he dwelt upon the divine beauty and abounding merits of Miss Briggs.
"Dinna you think she was an angel frae heeven?" said Boy Hugh.
"I think she was a nasty, wicked, enticing little monkey!" burst out Vara. For though it is part of womanhood's privilege to put up with the truantry of mankind without complaint, it is too much to expect her to suffer gladly his praises of the Canaanitish women he may have collogued with upon his travels.
And then Vara walked a long way silent and with her head in the air. Hugh Boy kicked all the stones out of his path and was silent also.
Nevertheless, though in this sulky silence, they travelled steadily on and on. Horizon after horizon broke up, spread out to either side, streamed dispersedly past them, and recomposed itself again solidly behind them.
"I'm awesome hungry!" at last said Boy Hugh, humbly. Vara became full of compassion in a minute.
[224]
"And Vara has nothing to give ye!" she said; "poor Boy Hugh!"
The baby woke with a faint cry.
They had passed off the moor and were now come among inhabited houses again. They were just passing a little cottage which stood with its end to the road, as a little boy came out of the gate with a great bowl of porridge and milk in his hand.
"Snap! Snap!" he cried, and looked up and down the road. A small terrier pricked its ears briskly over a wall and then leaped down upon the road. "Here, Snap!" cried the boy.
Snap came slowly walking down the dusty highway. He smelled at the dish of porridge and milk. Then he sniffed loudly upon the nose of contempt. For he had just been dining richly in the outhouse on a rat which he had killed himself.
Vara's eyes blazed at the sight of the porridge and milk.
"O, gie that to the baby!" she cried, her eyes fairly sparkling fire. "Gie that to wee Gavin. The dog doesna want it!"
The little boy ran back into the house, crying out at the top of his voice, "O, mither, mither, here's a lassie wants to gie our Snap's porridge to a babby!"
A kindly-faced, apple-cheeked country woman came to the door of the cottage. She had been baking cakes, and she dusted the oatmeal off her hands as she stood there.
"Can I get the dog's porridge for the bairns? He doesna want them. 'Deed he doesna!" cried Vara, beseechingly.
"Of course, lassie, ye can hae the porridge, and welcome!" said the woman, doubtfully.
[225]
"O, thank ye, mem, thank ye!" cried Vara, pouncing instantly on the porridge, lest the permission should be withdrawn. In a minute she had put most of the milk into the babe's bottle and the rest into the hands of Boy Hugh, who fell upon the porridge unceremoniously with his fingers. Vara smiled as she looked. She was hungrier than either—but happy.
The woman stood watching the wolfish eagerness of the younger children at the sight of food with a strange look on her face. Her lip tightened and her eyes grew sterner. Suddenly Vara glanced up at her with frank blue Irish eyes, brightened by hunger and suffering. They looked through and through the woman at the door.
"Mither," said the boy, "they're eatin' up a' our Snap's porridge, and there will no be a drap left——"
The woman turned on him with a kind of gladness.
"Hold your tongue!" she said, with quite unnecessary vehemence. And she slapped her son smartly for no particular reason. The tears were running down her cheeks. She almost dragged the children into the house. Then and there she spread such a breakfast for them as Vara had been seeing in her dreams ever since she grew hungry. It seemed that Gavin grew visibly plumper before her very eyes, with the milk which he absorbed as a sponge takes up water. And there appeared to be no finality to Boy Hugh's appetite. He could always find room for just another scone, spread with fresh butter and overlaid with cool apple-jelly such as Vara had never in her life partaken of.
Vara herself was almost too happy to eat. But the kind woman pressed her and would not let her leave the table.
"But I hae naething to pay ye wi'!" said Vara, whose soul was great.
[226]
"Hoot, hear to the lassie! I wadna tak' pay frae the Queen if she caaed in aff the road to drink a dish of tea. My man's the Netherby carrier. But tell me what's brocht ye here, wi' sic a bairn?"
And Vara told her as much as was necessary.
"To Liverpool to find your faither," said the woman. "Ye dinna stir a fit till the morrow's morn, and then ye can get a ride wi' our John as far as Netherby, at ony rate."
Vara was more than grateful to her. She was the first person who had taken their quest seriously. So the carrier's wife kept them till night, and helped Vara to give the baby and Hugh a bath. Then she made Vara strip herself, and shut the door upon her till the girl had enjoyed such a tubful of warm water as she had never washed in before. As Vara was finishing and rubbing her slender, wearied body and blistered feet with a soft towel, the carrier's wife opened the door. "Put on these!" she said; "they were my wee Gracie's, and I canna bear to keep them in the house." Vara would have protested, but the woman shut the door with a slam.
When Vara came out, Gavin was sitting on the carrier's knees and plucking at his beard. For "our John" had come in and heard their story. He was a wise carrier, and knew better than to attempt to interfere with his wife's benevolences. Then what was Vara's astonishment to find the babe also clad in a new frock, and giving rustling evidence of fresh underclothing. She could hear Boy Hugh's voice outside. He and Snap's master had made up the peace, and were now out somewhere about the barn, encouraging Snap to possess himself of another dinner of rat.
The woman's wonderful kindness went to Vara's heart.
"Ye shouldna, oh, ye shouldna!" she said, and bowing [227]her head in her hands, she wept as she had never done in the worst of all her sufferings.
"Hoot! can ye no haud your tongue, lassie?" said the carrier's wife. "So mony bairn's things were just a cumber and a thocht to me in this hoose. Our youngest (Tam there) is ten, an' we hae dune wi' that kind o' nonsense in this hoose. What are ye lauchin' at, guidman?" she cried, suddenly turning on the carrier, who had been quaintly screwing up his face.
"I wasna lauchin'," said "our John," his face suddenly falling to a quite preternatural gravity.
"They were juist a cumber and a care," continued the carrier's wife. "And they are better being o' some use to somebody."
"Now ye will lie down and sleep in the back room, till the guidman starts on his round at five i' the mornin'."
So the wearied children were put to bed in the "back room," and they fell asleep to the sound of psalm-singing. For the good carrier and his wife were praising the Lord. It is quite a mistake to suppose that most psalm-singers are hypocrites. Much of the good of the world is wrought by those who, being merry of heart, sing psalms.