IV.—­The Colonel Says “Adsum” When His Name is Called

Mention has been made of the Grey Friars school—­where the Colonel and Clive and I had been brought up, an ancient foundation still subsisting at Smithfield.

On the 12th of December, the Founder’s Day, a goodly company of old Cistercians is generally brought together, to hear a sermon in chapel; after which we adjourn to a great dinner, where old condisciples meet, and speeches are made.  In the chapel sit some three-score old gentlemen pensioners of the hospital, listening to the prayers and the psalms.

The service for Founder’s Day is a special one, and we hear—­

The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and he delighteth in his way.  Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down, for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand.  I have been young, and now am old, yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread.

As we came to this verse in the psalms I chanced to look up from my book towards the black-coated pensioners, and amongst them—­amongst them—­sat Thomas Newcome.

There was no mistaking him.  He wore the black gown of the pensioners of the Hospital of Grey Friars.  The steps of this good man had been ordered hither by heaven’s decree to this alms-house!

The organ played us out of chapel, and I waited until the pensioners took their turn to quit it.  The wan face of my dear old friend flushed up when he saw me, and his hand shook in mine, “I have found a home, Arthur,” said he.  “My good friend Lord H., who is a Cistercian like ourselves, and has just been appointed a governor, gave me his first nomination.  Don’t be agitated, Arthur, my boy; I am very happy.  I have good quarters, good food, good light and fire, and good friends.  Why, sir, I am as happy as the day is long.”

We walked through the courts of the building towards his room, which in truth I found neat and comfortable, with a brisk fire on the hearth, a little tea-table laid out, and over the mantelpiece a drawing of his grandson by Clive.

“You may come and see me here, sir, whenever you like—­but you must not stay now.  You must go back to your dinner.”

Of course I came to him on the very next day, and I had the happiness of bringing Clive and his little boy to Thomas Newcome that evening.  Clive thought his father was in Scotland with Lord H.

It was at Xmas that Miss Ethel found an old unposted letter of her grandmother’s, Mrs. Newcome, asking her lawyer to add a codicil to her will leaving a legacy of L6000 to Clive.  The letter, of course, had no legal value, but Ethel was a rich woman, and insisted that the money should be sent, as from the family.

The old Colonel seemed hardly to comprehend it, and when Clive told him the story of the legacy, and said they could now pay Mrs. Mackenzie, “Quite right, quite right; of course we shall pay her, Clivy, when we can!” was all he said.