Philosopher Jack by R. M. Ballantyne (book series for 10 year olds .txt) 📕

to the wants of young students, some of whom treated her well, while others—to their shame, be it said—took advantage of her amiability. In regard to this latter fact, however, it may be recorded that Peggy proved a sharp-witted, tight-handed, and zealous defender of her mistress. Among Mrs Niven’s other boarders there was one who was neither young nor a student. He came to reside with her in the following manner:—

One evening Peggy was heard in altercation with a man in the passage who seemed bent on forcing his way into the house. The students who chanced to be in their rooms at the time cocked their ears, like war-steeds snuffing the battle from afar, and hoped for a row. Mrs Niven, after opening the parlour door softly, and listening, called out, “Let the gentleman come up, Peggy.”

“Gentleman indeed!” cried the irate Peggy, who had the intruder by the throat, “he’s only a dirty auld blagyird.”

“Niver ye mind, Peggy,” returned Mrs Niven peremptorily; “I ken him. Let him up.”

Immediately after, there walked into the parlour a bowed, mean-looking, dirty little old man, who, as he sat down on a chair, paid some doubtful compliments to Peggy.

“Oh, Maister Black, is it you!” said Mrs Niven, sitting down beside him.

Besides being all that we have said, Mr Black was ragged, dishevelled, haggard, and in every way disreputable.

“Yes, it’s me, Mrs Niven,” he replied harshly, “and you see I’m in a sorry plight.”

“I see, I see,” said the good woman, taking his hand and shedding tears. “I kent ye had lost a’ by that fearfu’ bank failure, but I didna ken ye had come doon sae low. And oh! to think that it was a’ through me, an your kindness in offerin’ to tak the shares aff my hands. Oh! Maister Black, my heart is wae when I look at ye. Is there onything I can dae for ye?”

Now, it was quite a new light to Mr Black that his relative had not found him out. He had called in a fit of desperation, for the purpose of extorting money from her by any means. He now changed his tactics, and resolved to board and lodge with her gratuitously. The proposition rather startled the poor woman, for she found it difficult to make the two ends meet, even when her house was full of lodgers. She had not the heart to refuse him, however, and thus Mr Black was fairly installed in the old room whose window opened on the cats’ parade.

In her difficulty Mrs Niven went, as she was in the habit of doing, to Philosopher Jack, to whom she represented Mr Black as such a suffering and self-sacrificing man, that his heart was quite melted.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Mrs Niven,” he said. “There is a sum of money in my father’s possession, the interest of which enabled me to pay my way when I came back from the gold-fields. My father won’t use that money himself and I won’t accept it from him. We have therefore resolved to devote it to charitable purposes. Now, we will give Mr Black a small annuity out of it, for your sake, Mrs Niven.”

Philosopher Jack was not, however, so easily deceived as Mrs Niven. He afterwards “found out” Mr Black, and told him so in very stern language. Nevertheless, he did not stop his allowance. Neither did he enlighten Mrs Niven as to the man’s true character, though he kept a sharp eye on him.

Thus did Mr Black become a pensioner and a free boarder. There is no sinner on this side (of) the grave who is beyond redemption. That which prosperity and adversity had equally failed to accomplish, was finally brought about by unmerited kindness,—Mr Black’s spirit was quietly and gradually, but surely, broken. The generous forbearance of Edwin Jack, and the loving Christian sympathy of his intended victim, proved too much for him. He confessed his sin to Jack, and offered to resign his pension; but Jack would not hear of it, as the pensioner was by that time too old and feeble to work. He also confessed to Mrs Niven, but that unsuspecting woman refused to believe that he ever did or could harbour so vile a design towards her, and she continued in that mind to her dying day.

Peggy, however, was made of sterner stuff. She not only believed his confession, but she refused to believe in his repentance, and continued to treat him with marked disrespect until her mistress died. After that however, she relented, and retired with him to a poorer residence, in the capacity of his servant. Peggy was eccentric in her behaviour. While she nursed him with the assiduous care and kindness of a rough but honest nature, she continued to call him a “dirty auld blagyird” to the last. The expression of this sentiment did not, however, prevent her from holding more polite intercourse. When his eyes grew dim, she read to him not only from the Bible, but from the Pilgrim’s Progress and Robinson Crusoe, which were their favourites among the books of the little library furnished to them by Christian friends. And many sage and original remarks did Peggy make on those celebrated books. The topics of conversation which she broached with Mr Black from time to time were numerous, as a matter of course, for Peggy was loquacious; but that to which she most frequently recurred was the wonderful career of Philosopher Jack, for Peggy liked to sing his praises, and never tired of treating the old man to long-winded accounts of that hero’s ever memorable voyage to the Southern Seas.

The End.