Mother Meg Part 16

But when the mending was done, and she laid herself down in her little bed in the corner of her mother's room, behind the screen of a large towel-horse, which served as her bedroom, she began to think the matter over in rather a new light.

What had her mother meant when she said, "perhaps the Lord would help her to do better in her lessons"?

Was there any help in such a thing as that? And who was this "Lord" of whom her mother spoke?

Kittie had perceived that things had been brighter for the last day or two, and if this had anything to do with this "Lord," of whom her mother seemed to expect something, she too would like to understand the whole matter.

Long she lay awake, thinking. Sleep seemed to have left her eyelids. Her brothers came in from the street, and she watched through the open door her mother helping them to their rough little beds in the front room.

By-and-by the hubbub was over, and quiet sank down upon the whole of them.

Her father must be dozing, she supposed, as he said not a word, and her mother was unusually silent too. The click of her needle and the sharp rap of her scissors on the bare table were the only sounds inside the room. Outside the noisy roar went on as usual: the crying children, the scolding mothers, the cries of the fish and fruit sellers, the organ-grinders--everything just as usual.

Presently her mother spoke. "Husband, I've been a thinkin' there must be something in them Seymours as is different from most folks."

"Like enough," he answered.

"There's a big print Bible or somethin' stuck up over old Mrs. Seymour's ironing-board. What should ye think that might be for, now?"

"I don't know, I'm sure; you'd a deal better ask her if y'er so curious."

Mrs. Blunt was busy on her own thoughts, and pursued, without noticing her husband's implied rebuke--

"'Cause if that's what makes 'em different, I'd like to be different too."

"Bide as ye are. Don't you be taking up fine notions. Ye've enough to do to mind us all, without doin' as other folks does."

"I wonder where our Bible's been put to," his wife went on, without regarding him.

Her husband did not answer. He was half inclined to be vexed at his wife's persistency, but he remembered the brightened room this evening, the absence of scolding, and the nicely-cooked fish, so he took refuge in silence.

Mrs. Blunt got up, put away her work, and began searching on the top shelf of a cupboard which filled one corner.

At last she got down from the chair on which she had been standing, and Kittie could hear her blowing the dust from something.

"Here 'tis," she said, in a satisfied tone. "I knew as 'twas somewheres.

Supposin' you and me was to read a bit every night?"

"Not I," said the man. "If you've took up with new notions, keep 'em to yerself. I'm goin' to step out a bit. This 'ere room's stiflin'."

His wife's countenance fell, and when the door banged behind him, she opened the book with a sigh.

Kittie from her corner could just see her mother's face--such a weary, thin face. She was thinking so, when, after turning over a good many pages, her mother began to read out in a subdued voice. Kittie was so surprised that she listened, and these were the words she heard--

"Behold, there came a leper and wors.h.i.+pped Him, saying, Lord, if Thou wilt Thou canst make me clean. And Jesus put forth His hand, and touched him, saying, I will; be thou clean. And immediately his leprosy was cleansed."

Kittie lost the next few sentences while she said to herself, "Then the 'Lord' as mother spoke on means Jesus! I didn't know that. And people is asking Him to do something for 'em, and He seems quite willin'. I wonder if He'd be willin' to help poor little Kittie a bit? Well, what comes next?"

"Lord, my servant lieth at home sick of the palsy, grievously tormented.

And Jesus saith unto him, I will come and heal him."

Her mother ceased reading, and leant her head on her hand, while Kittie, strange thoughts running in her mind, began to wish she could go to this Lord to obtain help as these people had. She must get that book and see what more it said. At any rate of this she was certain, that the Lord Jesus answered to both those applicants, "_I will_." He did not say "no"

to either, and if she could only find out how to speak to Him, she too might get what she needed. With this comforting thought, and with the light of a new hope dawning in her heart, little Kittie fell asleep.

She did not yet know that He was close to her all the time, and that His ear was ever ready to hear if she spoke to Him.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XI.

A MIDNIGHT BARGAIN.

"Look 'ere," said a low voice, "be a good boy, and don't cry, and then I'll see if I can't get yer somethin' or other to eat."

"But I'm 'ungry, Cherry," whispered the little one in answer, frightened by former experiences into keeping his woe within bounds, "and it's all cold and dark 'ere. I wish you'd take me to mother."

A sharp pang shot across Cherry's heart, and she answered in a voice that held a sob only just restrained from breaking forth, "I can't, d.i.c.kie, you know as I can't. I would in a minute if I could; mother's gone a long way off."

"In a train?" whispered d.i.c.kie.

Cherry nodded. What did it matter, so that d.i.c.kie was pacified? she thought.

"She promised as she'd take me," he said again, "and she never has. She never went a long way from d.i.c.kie 'afore."

"No," whispered Cherry again, "no more she did from Cherry; but she couldn't help herself--mother couldn't. She was took."

d.i.c.kie turned round wearily, and his little sister smoothed his hair and cheek, till by-and-by his gentle breathing told her that he was at last asleep.

Then she raised herself a little and looked round stealthily.

The room in which she lay was a good-sized one, and in each of the four corners, heaped together for warmth, the different members of four different families were huddled. Tattered rugs, shawls, and rags covered them from the biting February cold, and a flickering nightlight on a box in the middle of the room was the only gleam that revealed the shadowy misery congregated there.

Though the poor little brother was asleep, and Cherry herself sorely needed repose, she still kept her wearied eyes open, watching the door fearfully. At last, overcome by fatigue, she forgot everything, till a slight moan from d.i.c.kie brought her back to the present, and she heard a voice close at her elbow say thickly--

"Well, yer can 'ave him: the worst on't is the gal; she'll take on if I say yes, awful."

The words were spoken in a rough sort of undertone by a man who seemed by the sound of his voice to have been drinking heavily.

The answer, from a woman who was already settling herself to sleep in her corner near, came in a hard distinct whisper--

"Never mind _her_! She'll fret a bit, but that'll be the end on it. She can't do nothing. Anybody 'ud know as 'tis better for 'im to be fed and clothed than left 'ere to starve."

The man addressed was sensible of a sort of flash of memory, and a picture came up before his eyes.