seven o'clock in the morning on easter monday found melina breakfasting with her neighbours. the breakfast of fried bacon and delicious coffee seemed quite a luxurious meal to her, accustomed as she was to commence the day fortified only with a cup of weak tea and a slice of bread spread with margarine or dripping, and, encouraged by a remark from mr. jones to the effect that the more she ate the better she would please him, she thoroughly enjoyed it.
"how are you getting on, my dear?" mr. jones asked every now and again, as the meal progressed.
and melina answered each time: "very well, thank you, mr. jones," and gave him a shy pleased smile, with a very grateful feeling in her heart.
immediately breakfast was over a start was made for the station, mrs. jones and melina walking ahead, while mr. jones followed with william, the two latter taking turns in carrying a large covered basket which was full of provisions. they arrived at the station in good time for the excursion train by which they were to make the short journey to hawmouth.
"i say, melina, who'd have thought that you'd be going with us?" remarked william, as, with melina and his mother, he waited on the platform whilst his father procured their tickets.
"yes, who'd have thought it!" melina returned gaily; "i can scarcely believe it—really! it's like a dream—a beautiful dream! oh, how glad i am it's such a fine day!"
"it's warm, too, for april," said mrs. jones,—"more like summer, i call it."
melina was secretly delighted that it was so warm, for on that account she had been able to dispense with her shabby old jacket. she was looking very nice in her new serge frock and sailor hat; and, though her shoes were shabby, she had blacked them so carefully and managed to put such a polish on them that they did not show how much they were worn.
"i wonder what you'll think of the sea, melina," said william; "i've been telling mother it'll be your first sight of it. you'll be able to get some pretty shells, if you like them, and—oh, here's father!"
mr. jones joined them, and, a minute later, their train ran into the station and they took their seats in it at once.
melina sat next to mrs. jones, with mr. jones and william opposite. the father and son were wearing their best clothes, and the former had donned a sky-blue tie and put a flower in his button-hole.
"now we're off!" said mr. jones, nodding at melina, as the train began to move slowly out of the station.
she gave a low laugh expressive of intense delight, and, bending forward, whispered to him: "i've never been by train before!"
"you don't say so!" he exclaimed in astonishment.
"never," the little girl said impressively, "this is the first proper holiday i've ever had."
"then i hope you'll enjoy it, my dear," he answered; "it shall not be my fault if you don't."
looking out of the window melina noticed that the railway line ran parallel with the river, the haw, which flowed by hawstock and emptied itself into the sea at hawmouth.
"why, mr. jones, how wide the river's getting!" she exclaimed presently; "and oh, there's quite a big ship! how deep the water must be here!"
"yes," he assented; "at the next curve of the line we shall come in sight of the sea. there now, lookout!"
melina did look out; but instead of expressing the surprise and admiration her companions had expected to hear, she sat silent, too awe-struck to speak, her eyes fixed on the wide expanse of water which, on this beautiful spring morning, shone like silver in the sunshine. a few minutes later the train ran into a cutting, and then slowed into hawmouth station and stopped.
melina never forgot the happy hours which followed. the morning she spent on the esplanade in front of the sea: the tide was high, and, mr. jones and william having gone to bathe, and mrs. jones having sat down on a seat to rest, she strolled about by herself, looking at the other excursionists and listening to the band which was playing. by and by she returned to mrs. jones, and they sat talking and enjoying the fresh salt air and the glorious sunshine, whilst they watched the sea-birds hovering around and the sails of distant ships, which stood out plainly against the blue horizon. then mr. jones and william joined them, and the contents of the big basket were brought to light and they had dinner. the meal consisted of meat pies, made by mrs. jones herself, and now pronounced the best she had ever made, with ginger-beer to drink.
by this time the tide was receding; so, as soon as dinner was finished, a move was made for the beach, where, subsequently, they explored the rocks, which were now uncovered. there melina gathered a quantity of pretty shells with which she filled her pocket, and saw beautiful anemones of varied hues, in the pools between the rocks, besides all kinds of pretty seaweeds. the afternoon passed so quickly that she was quite surprised when mrs. jones said it was time for tea.
they had tea at a restaurant. that was a novel experience for melina, too; and afterwards they returned to the esplanade, where they remained till they were obliged to hurry to the railway station to catch the train home.
"i shall never forget this day as long as i live," melina declared, as, at half-past nine o'clock, she and her friends were walking from the railway station at hawstock towards jubilee terrace; "and i shall never, never, never be able to thank you enough, mr. jones—"
"now, now," interrupted mr. jones, "no more of that! i don't want to hear anything about thanks. i'm glad you've enjoyed my little treat; it's been a real pleasure to us to take you with us, i'm sure."
"yes, that's so," agreed mrs. jones. "are you very tired, melina?" she inquired.
"oh no," the little girl replied, "not in the least! i wish the day was only just beginning!"
as they turned the corner of jubilee terrace they saw, by the light of the street lamp, that a man was standing on mrs. berryman's doorstep. he moved off as they approached, and met them.
"excuse me," he said, addressing mr. jones; "can you tell me if mrs. berryman lives at no. 2?"
"yes," mr. jones assented, "she does."
"ah, then i was rightly informed! i've knocked at the door several times, but i can't make anyone hear. perhaps, as it is getting late, i'd better go back to the town and come again to-morrow."
so saying the man, who was tall and of respectable appearance, walked away.
"now, i wonder who that is," said mr. jones. "i don't know him, and yet it seemed to me i'd heard his voice before. i expect your grandmother heard him knocking right enough, eh, melina?"
"oh yes," melina agreed; "but she wouldn't go to the door because it's late, and she'd be afraid he was a robber."
"a robber!" echoed mr. jones in astonishment, adding, "why, i should never have guessed mrs. berryman was the sort of woman to be nervous like that! we'll wait and see you get admission, anyway."
apparently mrs. berryman had been watching for the return of the excursionists from her parlour window, for before mr. jones had time to knock, she opened the door. the passage of the cottage was in darkness, so that he could not see her face, but he heard by the thickness of her speech immediately she spoke that she was not quite sober.
"so you've brought my granddaughter back at last," she said; "i hope she's behaved herself."
"why, of course she has," mr. jones answered; "she's been a very good little maid, and we've had a most pleasant day."
"humph!" ejaculated the old woman. she stretched out her hand, and, taking melina by the arm, pulled her into the passage. "good night," she said, and forthwith shut the door in her neighbours' faces.
"there's manners for you!" exclaimed william indignantly.
"i hope she'll give that poor child some supper," said mr. jones; "i'm glad to remember that she ate a good tea."
"poor melina!" sighed mrs. jones sympathetically; "what a home-coming for her after a day's pleasure! poor little girl!"
meanwhile mrs. berryman had drawn melina into the kitchen, which was lit by a small hand-lamp on the table. on the table, too, stood a bottle of spirits and a tumbler.
"who was that knocking at the door just before you arrived?" mrs. berryman demanded.
"i don't know," melina replied, "he was a stranger. he spoke to mr. jones and asked if you lived here, and when he heard that you did he said he'd call again to-morrow."
"who can he be?" the old woman muttered to herself. "did you see what he was like?" she inquired.
"i only saw that he was tall, and i think—oh yes, i am sure that he wore a beard! mr. jones thought he knew his voice—"
"what!" cried mrs. berryman. "it couldn't have been—no, of course it couldn't—he wouldn't come without writing—he—"
she paused in the midst of her incoherent speech, and, turning to the table, took up the tumbler and drank from it. then she addressed melina again.
"go to bed," she said; "do you hear what i say? go to bed."
melina left the kitchen and went upstairs to her own room. she was not very hungry, for, as mr. jones had remarked, she had made a good tea, so she did not mind being kept without supper. she undressed herself in the dark, and then knelt down in her night-gown by her bedside to pray: she never went to bed without praying now, for she had learnt to feel that god was really her friend—a tender, loving father, who cared for her and to whom she could tell all that was in her heart. she had only just finished her prayers when she heard her grandmother's footsteps on the stairs, and, springing hastily to her feet, she jumped into bed. a minute later mrs. berryman opened the door and looked in; she was carrying the hand-lamp she had used in the kitchen.
"are you in bed, child?" she inquired.
"yes, gran," melina answered, adding timidly, for she was always afraid of the old woman if she had been drinking, "good night."
"good night," mrs. berryman said; then she went to her own room.
the little girl drew a breath of relief. when mrs. jones had asked her if she was tired she had answered, as she thought, truthfully in saying she was not; but now she discovered that she was really very weary—doubtless excitement had kept her from feeling so before. she closed her eyes and tried to sleep; but though her limbs ached with fatigue, her mind was still on the alert. in imagination she went over the delightful experiences of the day and listened to the mysterious murmur of the sea.
"i've been so happy, so very, very happy," she thought, "but now it is all over. it was dreadful coming back to gran—to find she had been drinking again. oh, what must the joneses think of her! but there, they know what she is!"
then she remembered all william jones had said to her about her grandmother; she had scarcely thought of it during the day; and a great sense of shame filled her heart, and she burst into tears. she wept bitterly until, at length, thoroughly worn out, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, from which, some while later, she awoke with the feeling that something was wrong. she sat up in bed, coughing, to find the room full of smoke. with a cry of horror she realised what was amiss. the house was on fire.
