ruby in difficulties.

having thrust his nephew into the cottage, captain ogilvy’s first proceeding was to close the outer shutter of the window and fasten it securely on the inside. then he locked, bolted, barred, and chained the outer door, after which he shut the kitchen door, and, in default of any other mode of securing it, placed against it a heavy table as a barricade.

having thus secured the premises in front, he proceeded to fortify the rear, and, when this was accomplished to his satisfaction, he returned to the kitchen, sat down opposite the widow, and wiped his shining pate.

“why, uncle, are we going to stand out a siege that you take so much pains to lock up?”

ruby sat down on the floor at his mother’s feet as he spoke, and minnie sat down on a low stool beside him.

“maybe we are, lad,” replied the captain; “anyhow, it’s always well to be ready—

“‘ready, boys, ready,

we’ll fight and we’ll conquer again and again.’”

“come uncle, explain yourself.”

“explain myself, nephy? i can neither explain myself nor anybody else. d’ye know, ruby, that you’re a burglar?”

“am i, uncle? well, i confess that that’s news.”

“ay, but it’s true though, at least the law in arbroath says so, and if it catches you, it’ll hang you as sure as a gun.”

here captain ogilvy explained to his nephew the nature of the crime that was committed on the night of his departure, the evidence of his guilt in the finding part of the plate in the garden, coupled with his sudden disappearance, and wound up by saying that he regarded him, ruby, as being in a “reg’lar fix.”

“but surely,” said ruby, whose face became gradually graver as the case was unfolded to him, “surely it must be easy to prove to the satisfaction of everyone that i had nothing whatever to do with this affair?”

“easy to prove it!” said the captain in an excited tone; “wasn’t you seen, just about the hour of the robbery, going stealthily down the street, by big swankie and davy spink, both of whom will swear to it.”

“yes, but you were with me, uncle.”

“so i was, and hard enough work i had to convince them that i had nothin’ to do with it myself, but they saw that i couldn’t jump a stone wall eight foot high to save my life, much less break into a house, and they got no further evidence to convict me, so they let me off; but it’ll go hard with you, nephy, for major stewart described the men, and one o’ them was a big strong feller, the description bein’ as like you as two peas, only their faces was blackened, and the lantern threw the light all one way, so he didn’t see them well. then, the things found in our garden,—and the villains will haul me up as a witness against you, for, didn’t i find them myself?”

“very perplexing; what shall i do?” said ruby.

“clear out,” cried the captain emphatically.

“what! fly like a real criminal, just as i have returned home? never. what say you, minnie?”

“stand your trial, ruby. they cannot—they dare not—condemn the innocent.”

“and you, mother?”

“i’m sure i don’t know what to say,” replied mrs brand, with a look of deep anxiety, as she passed her fingers through her son’s hair, and kissed his brow. “i have seen the innocent condemned and the guilty go free more than once in my life.”

“nevertheless, mother, i will give myself up, and take my chance. to fly would be to give them reason to believe me guilty.”

“give yourself up!” exclaimed the captain, “you’ll do nothing of the sort. come, lad, remember i’m an old man, and an uncle. i’ve got a plan in my head, which i think will keep you out of harm’s way for a time. you see my old chronometer is but a poor one,—the worse of the wear, like its master,—and i’ve never been able to make out the exact time that we went aboard the termagant the night you went away. now, can you tell me what o’clock it was?”

“i can.”

“’xactly?”

“yes, exactly, for it happened that i was a little later than i promised, and the skipper pointed to his watch, as i came up the side, and jocularly shook his head at me. it was exactly eleven p.m.”

“sure and sartin o’ that?” enquired the captain, earnestly.

“quite, and his watch must have been right, for the town-clock rung the hour at the same time.”

“is that skipper alive?”

“yes.”

“would he swear to that?”

“i think he would.”

“d’ye know where he is?”

“i do. he’s on a voyage to the west indies, and won’t be home for two months, i believe.”

“humph!” said the captain, with a disappointed look. “however, it can’t be helped; but i see my way now to get you out o’ this fix. you know, i suppose, that they’re buildin’ a lighthouse on the bell rock just now; well, the workmen go off to it for a month at a time, i believe, if not longer, and don’t come ashore, and it’s such a dangerous place, and troublesome to get to, that nobody almost ever goes out to it from this place, except those who have to do with it. now, lad, you’ll go down to the workyard the first thing in the mornin’, before daylight, and engage to go off to work at the bell rock. you’ll keep all snug and quiet, and nobody’ll be a bit the wiser. you’ll be earnin’ good wages, and in the meantime i’ll set about gettin’ things in trim to put you all square.”

“but i see many difficulties ahead,” objected ruby.

“of course ye do,” retorted the captain. “did ye ever hear or see anything on this earth that hadn’t rocks ahead o’ some sort? it’s our business to steer past ’em, lad, not to ’bout ship and steer away. but state yer difficulties.”

“well, in the first place, i’m not a stonemason or a carpenter, and i suppose masons and carpenters are the men most wanted there.”

“not at all, blacksmiths are wanted there,” said the captain, “and i know that you were trained to that work as a boy.”

“true, i can do somewhat with the hammer, but mayhap they won’t engage me.”

“but they will engage you, lad, for they are hard up for an assistant blacksmith just now, and i happen to be hand-and-glove with some o’ the chief men of the yard, who’ll be happy to take anyone recommended by me.”

“well, uncle, but suppose i do go off to the rock, what chance have you of making things appear better than they are at present?”

“i’ll explain that, lad. in the first place, major stewart is a gentleman, out-and-out, and will listen to the truth. he swears that the robbery took place at one o’clock in the mornin’, for he looked at his watch and at the clock of the house, and heard it ring in the town, just as the thieves cleared off over the wall. now, if i can get your old skipper to take a run here on his return from the west indies, he’ll swear that you was sailin’ out to the north sea before twelve, and that’ll prove that you couldn’t have had nothin’ to do with it, d’ye see?”

“it sounds well,” said ruby dubiously, “but do you think the lawyers will see things in the light you do?”

“hang the lawyers! d’ye think they will shut their eyes to the truth?”

“perhaps they may, in which case they will hang me, and so prevent my taking your advice to hang them,” said ruby.

“well, well, but you agree to my plan?” asked the captain.

“shall i agree, minnie? it will separate me from you again for some time.”

“yet it is necessary,” answered minnie, sadly; “yes, i think you should agree to go.”

“very well, then, that’s settled,” said ruby, “and now let us drop the subject, because i have other things to speak of; and if i must start before daylight my time with you will be short—”

“come here a bit, nephy, i want to have a private word with ’ee in my cabin,” said the captain, interrupting him, and going into his own room. ruby rose and followed.

“you haven’t any—”

the captain stopped, stroked his bald head, and looked perplexed.

“well, uncle?”

“well, nephy, you haven’t—in short, have ye got any money about you, lad?”

“money? yes, a little; but why do you ask?”

“well, the fact is, that your poor mother is hard up just now,” said the captain earnestly, “an’ i’ve given her the last penny i have o’ my own; but she’s quite—”

ruby interrupted his uncle at this point with a boisterous laugh. at the same time he flung open the door and dragged the old man with gentle violence back to the kitchen.

“come here, uncle.”

“but, avast! nephy, i haven’t told ye all yet.”

“oh! don’t bother me with such trifles just now,” cried ruby, thrusting his uncle into a chair and resuming his own seat at his mother’s side; “we’ll speak of that at some other time; meanwhile let me talk to mother.”

“minnie, dear,” he continued, “who keeps the cash here; you or mother?”

“well, we keep it between us,” said minnie, smiling; “your mother keeps it in her drawer and gives me the key when i want any, and i keep an account of it.”

“ah! well, mother, i have a favour to ask of you before i go.”

“well, ruby?”

“it is that you will take care of my cash for me. i have got a goodish lot of it, and find it rather heavy to carry in my pockets—so, hold your apron steady and i’ll give it to you.”

saying this he began to empty handful after handful of coppers into the old woman’s apron; then, remarking that “that was all the browns”, he began to place handful after handful of shillings and sixpences on the top of the pile until the copper was hid by silver.

the old lady, as usual when surprised, became speechless; the captain smiled and minnie laughed, but when ruby put his hand into another pocket and began to draw forth golden sovereigns, and pour them into his mother’s lap, the captain became supremely amazed, the old woman laughed, and,—so strangely contradictory and unaccountable is human nature,—minnie began to cry.

poor girl! the tax upon her strength had been heavier than anyone knew, heavier than she could bear, and the sorrow of knowing, as she had come to know, that it was all in vain, and that her utmost efforts had failed to “keep the wolf from the door”, had almost broken her down. little wonder, then, that the sight of sudden and ample relief upset her altogether.

but her tears, being tears of joy, were soon and easily dried—all the more easily that it was ruby who undertook to dry them.

mrs brand sat up late that night, for there was much to tell and much to hear. after she had retired to rest the other three continued to hold converse together until grey dawn began to appear through the chinks in the window-shutters. then the two men rose and went out, while minnie laid her pretty little head on the pillow beside mrs brand, and sought, and found, repose.