She paused for an instant, then went on in a tone of stern determination: "And I warn you to beware how you lay a hand on one of those orphan children again; for as sure as you do I'll let the uncles know all about this thing, and they'll be promptly taken away out of your reach, inhuman brute that you are."

"Take care how you talk, woman," he said menacingly, though his cheek paled at her threat. "I'm the stronger of the two, and you may live to regret it."

"The stronger, but by far the more cowardly," she returned with a disagreeable laugh. "I'm not afraid o' you, Patrick Coote; you're too well aware of my worth to you to try doing me any deadly harm."

"Deadly harm?" he repeated, "who talks of deadly harm? 'Twas you that said it, not I. But I'll have you, as well as those unruly youngsters, to know who's master in this house."

So saying he took up his hat and walked out through the front yard and down the street, Mrs. Coote standing at the window and sending after him a glance of mingled contempt and disdain.

"I haven't wasted any fondling on those children," she said to herself, "but I'd sooner take a beating myself than give that bit of a boy such a thrashing for next to nothing, and I'll see that it isn't done again."

Mr. Coote stalked on down the street in by no means a happy frame of mind, everybody he met seeming to him to regard him with contempt and aversion; for the whole neighborhood was roused by the story of his abuse of the little orphan boy unfortunately committed to his care--a story quickly circulated by those who had heard Harry's screams and rushed to the house to discover the cause and aid the sufferer.

One of his own parishioners, meeting, accosted him:

"See here, sir, you'd best be careful how you abuse those little orphans in your care, for we Americans don't approve of any such doings and you'll get yourself into trouble, you may depend on it."

With a muttered, "You will please attend to your own affairs and leave me to attend to mine," Coote pushed past the speaker and stalked on his way.

Harry's screams had been heard at Mr. Keith's, and the grocer's wife had stopped at their gate on her way home to tell the story of the brutal treatment the poor child had received. The two ladies shed tears over it and longed to go to the rescue of the poor little ones, yet refrained for the present, and took time to consider what would be the best plan to adopt for their relief. They talked the matter over together, and finally decided that the uncles must be informed of the true state of affairs, when doubtless they would take steps to secure the children from a repet.i.tion of such cruel treatment.

"Ethel writes a very neat hand," remarked Mrs. Keith. "I wonder she has not complained to them long before this."

"Doubtless her letters, if she has written any, have all pa.s.sed through the hands of Mr. or Mrs. Coote and been suppressed if she ventured any complaint of their treatment," returned Mrs. Weston.

"Yes, I dare say that is so," said Mrs. Keith. "Well, the very next time Ethel comes over here I shall ask her if she would like to write to any of her relatives and knows their address, offering her writing materials and postage stamp and promising to mail the letter for her."

"A very good plan if she knows the address, which I doubt," returned Mrs. Weston.

They did not know it, but Ethel in her room watching beside Harry, who had sobbed himself to sleep, was considering the same question, namely, how she could let her uncles know how badly she and her little brother and sisters were being treated. She had been ignorant of the address until the day before, when Mrs. Coote had bidden her carry out the sc.r.a.p-basket from the study and empty it into the coal scuttle in the kitchen, and in doing so she had seen and secured an envelope bearing the address of the firm of Eldon Brothers. It could do no harm to take it, she thought, as otherwise it would only be burned up; and having an ill-defined feeling that some day it might prove of service to her, she had hastily put it in her pocket. It was there still, and now taking it out she gazed at it with her tear-dimmed eyes, trying to think how she could get writing materials and postage stamp, make use of them, and post her letter, when written, without the knowledge of Mr. or Mrs.

Coote, who, if they knew, would be sure to prevent her from sending it.

"I will ask G.o.d to help me," she said to herself, and at once dropping on her knees sent up a silent but most fervid prayer that a way might be opened for the accomplishment of her wish.

CHAPTER XII.

It was some days before Ethel's prayers seemed to be answered or the kind plans of Mrs. Keith and her mother could be carried out, for the children were forbidden to go over there. They were permitted to be out for only a short time each day for exercise, and were under strict orders to keep to the side of the parsonage grounds farthest from Mr.

Keith's, though no reason was a.s.signed.

But at last, it having occurred to Mrs. Coote that the very fact of the children being so suddenly and entirely deprived of the privilege of paying frequent visits to the home of little Mary--their favorite resort--would tend to confirm any evil report that might have reached the Keiths, she gave them leave, one afternoon, to go over there for an hour or two; a permission of which they promptly availed themselves.

They received a hearty welcome from both, the ladies and little Mary, accompanied with kind enquiries in regard to their health and why they had stayed away so long.

"We weren't allowed to come," replied Harry; "they ordered us to stay over there in their yard ever since that horrid man gave me such an awful beating for just nothing at all 'cept that I couldn't study; 'twas so hot, you know, and I wanted to be out-doors under the trees."

"Ah, you were lazy, were you, Harry?" said Mrs. Weston, with difficulty repressing an inclination to smile.

"Yes, ma'am, I s'pose so," returned the little lad, "but boys can't help that sometimes when it's warm and they're tired of lessons and the birds are singing and the bees humming and all the little creatures out-doors having such a good time."

"Ah, but the bees are gathering honey and the birds building their nests, hatching their eggs, or rearing their young; they catch worms and insects for them to eat, don't you know? I think all the creatures G.o.d has made have something to do."

"But they don't work all the time, do they?" he queried. "And oughtn't boys to have some time to play?"

"Oh, yes, indeed! some time--after the lessons have been learned and recited."

"Well, I believe I'll go and play now with the girls out there under the trees," he said, and ran out whistling and laughing.

But Ethel lingered behind. She had brought no work with her, but seemed inclined to stay with the ladies.

"Sit down in this low rocking-chair, dear, and tell us what you have been doing with yourself for the last week or two, that you have not been in to see us," said Mrs. Keith, in a kindly, caressing tone.

"Oh, thank you, ma'am, I have wanted to come over here so badly! But it is just as Harry said, we weren't permitted," said Ethel, taking the offered chair. "Mrs. Coote always ordered us to stay on the other side of the garden. She didn't say why, and we are never allowed to ask that question."

"And that has been ever since the day we heard such dreadful screams from Harry and saw people running to the parsonage door and windows to find out what ailed him," said Mrs. Keith. "We were told that Mr. Coote was beating him, and it seems it was true?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Ethel, tears springing to her eyes. "Oh, I thought he was just killing him! and for next to nothing. He's such a little fellow, and wanted to play when he was told to study his lesson. It was hot and close in the house, you know, and looked so pleasant out of doors!"

"Yes. The little fellow ought to have attended better to his work, it is true, and taken his recreation when school hours were over," said Mrs.

Keith, "but I cannot think he deserved treatment so severe as was given him, and if I were in your place, Ethel, I should write to my uncles and tell them all the facts. I think they would manage in some way to prevent a repet.i.tion of such severe punishment, especially for so slight an offence."

"Yes, ma'am, I have been wanting to write to my uncles and tell them everything about it, but I couldn't, because I have no pen, ink, or paper, no postage stamp, no money to buy anything with, and even if I had I wouldn't be permitted to send a letter without Mr. or Mrs. Coote reading it first. And if they found I'd written all that to my uncles they'd whip me for doing it and tear my letter up instead of sending it, or maybe put it in the fire."

"Well, dear child, if you want to write such a letter, I will furnish you now with all the materials needed, and mail it for you when it is done; because your uncles ought to be informed of the cruel treatment received by their nephew and nieces." Mrs. Keith rose as she spoke, opened her writing desk, took from it pen, paper, and stamped envelope, and made Ethel seat herself at the table.

Ethel's eyes sparkled. She took from her pocket the envelope containing the address of the Eldon brothers, and was about to seat herself before the desk; but a sudden thought seemed to strike her.

"Oh, Mrs. Keith," she exclaimed, "I can't write fast, and I'm ever so afraid that Mrs. Coote will call us to come home before I could possibly get the letter done!"

"Well, then, suppose I write it at your dictation, and you sign it when finished," said the lady.

Ethel gave a joyful a.s.sent, dictated quite rapidly, telling of Harry's sore punishment for his slight fault, and the severity to which they were all subjected more or less, and begging that they might be taken from the care of those who treated them so ill; adding that she was almost sure Harry would be a good boy if he were with someone who would be kind and patient with him; but Mr. Coote was never that.

"There, I believe that is all I need to say, Mrs. Keith," concluded the little girl.

"Well, dear child," said Mrs. Keith, "suppose you sit down here and add in your own handwriting that this has been, written at your dictation, and sign your name to it."

Ethel did so, Mrs. Keith directed an envelope, enclosed the letter in it, and sent it by a trusty messenger directly to the post-office.

"Oh," asked Ethel, "do you think, Mrs. Weston and Mrs. Keith, that my uncles can be angry with me for doing this?"

"No, dear, I am very sure they would never be willing to have their brother's orphan children so ill treated," said Mrs. Weston, "and I think they will not let many days pa.s.s before they come to see about it."

Mrs. Keith expressed the same opinion and the little girl gave a sigh of relief; then her face clouded.

"But oh, I shall be so sorry to go away where I can never see you dear ladies!" she exclaimed, looking lovingly into their faces, while tears gathered in her eyes--"or little Mary again."