At first Mr. Wood had been rather afraid of trusting Charlie with him.  He thought Bob might play tricks with the boat, even though he knew how to manage her, when there was only one helpless boy with him.  But Mrs. Furniss said, “Nay!  Our Bob’s a bad ’un, but he’s not one of that sort, he’ll not plague them that’s afflicted.”  And she was quite right; for though his father said he could be trusted with nothing else, we found he could be trusted with Cripple Charlie.

It was two days before the summer holidays came to an end that Charlie asked me to come down to the farm and help him to put away his fern collection and a lot of other things into the places that he had arranged for them in his room; for now that the school-room was wanted again, he could not leave his papers and boxes about there.  Charlie lived at the farm altogether now.  He was better there than on the moors, so he boarded there and went home for visits.  The room Mrs. Wood had given him was the one where the old miser had slept.  In a memorandum left with his will it appeared that he had expressed a wish that the furniture of that room should not be altered, which was how they knew it was his.  So Mrs. Wood had kept the curious old oak bed (the back of which was fastened into the wall), and an old oak press, with a great number of drawers with brass handles to them, and all the queer furniture that she found there, just as it was.  Even the brass warming-pan was only rubbed and put back in its place, and the big bellows were duly hung up by the small fire-place.  But everything was so polished up and cleaned, the walls re-papered with a soft grey-green paper spangled with dog-daisies, and the room so brightened up with fresh blinds and bedclothes, and a bit of bright carpet, that it did not look in the least dismal, and Charlie was very proud and very fond of it.  It had two windows, one where the beehive was, and one very sunny one, where he had a balm of Gilead that Isaac’s wife gave him, and his old medicine-bottles full of cuttings on the upper ledge.  The old women used to send him “slippings” off their fairy roses and myrtles and fuchsias, and they rooted very well in that window, there was so much sun.

Charlie had only just begun a fern collection, and I had saved my pocket-money (I did not want it for anything else) and had bought him several quires of cartridge-paper; and Dr. Brown had given him a packet of medicine-labels to cut up into strips to fasten his specimens in with, and the collection looked very well and very scientific; and all that remained was to find a good place to put it away in.  The drawers of the press were of all shapes and sizes, but there were two longish very shallow ones that just matched each other, and when I pulled one of them out, and put the fern-papers in, they fitted exactly, and the drawer just held half the collection.  I called Charlie to look, and he hobbled up on his crutches and was delighted, but he said he should like to put the others in himself, so I got him into a chair, and shut up the full drawer and pulled out the empty one, and went down-stairs for the two moleskins we were curing, and the glue-pot, and the toffy-tin, and some other things that had to be cleared out of the school-room now the holidays were over.