 Chapter 8 of Mildred and Elsie This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Mildred and Elsie by Martha Finley. Chapter 8 There is a letter, my dear, which concerns you quite as much as myself. Mr. Keith said, putting it into his wife's hand, it gives information which perhaps, for several reasons, it may be as well for us to keep to ourselves for the present, he added, with a smile. That is why I kept it back until now, that we are alone. They had retired to their own room for the night, and the little ones who shared it with them were fast asleep. From Uncle Dinsmore, Mrs. Keith exclaimed, recognizing the handwriting at a glance. Her husband watched her face with interest in some curiosity as she read, a slight smile on his lips and in his eyes. She looked up presently with her shining. How good, how wonderfully good, and kind, they always are. Almost too kind, he responded, his face clouding a little. At least I wish there was no occasion for receiving such favors. I should have been tempted to decline had I been consulted beforehand. But it would hardly do now that the goods are almost here. We could not well send them back. No, certainly that is not to be thought of for a moment, she said, lifting to his eyes, smiling through tears. We must follow the golden rule, Stuart, and accept their kind assistance in educating our children, just as we would wish them to accept ours, where our situations reversed. Yes, he said, heaving his eye, doubtless you take the right view of it. But, ah, Marsha, wife, it is more blessed to give than to receive. It is indeed, my dear husband, and we will not refuse them that blessed us now, but receive their kindnesses in the spirit in which they are offered. Hoping that we may have our turn some of these days, shall we not? He gave a silent assent, do you not agree with me that it will be well to keep the matter a secret from the children, until the boxes arrive? He asked. Oh, yes, indeed. We will not let even Mildred know. It will be such a delightful surprise to her, dear child. For though she has uttered no word of complaint, I am sure it must have been a great disappointment to her that you could not furnish her with a piano this fall to enable her to keep up her music. Now she can do that and teach her sisters too, and her clang will be a great treat to us all, added Mr. Keith, with a smile that spoke volumes of fatherly affection and pride in his first born, and then the books. What delightful times we shall have over them, she added, her eyes sparkling. What a help they will be in cultivating our children's minds. I think our dear girl must have completely won her way into the hearts of my uncle and cousin Horace, as her mother did before her. He responded with a light happy laugh. When preparing to leave Ohio for the wilds of Indiana, Mr. Keith had sold most of their heavy articles of furniture. Among them the piano, its loss had been greatly lamented in the family, especially by the older girls in Rupert. The purchase of another had become a darling project with him, and to that end he had worked and saved, till he had now quite a little hoard, earned mostly by the sale of fruits, vegetables, and fobbles of his own raising. His mother paying him for these at the market price, and whatever surplus he had finding ready sale at the stores. The lad was very industrious and painstaking, generally very successful in what he undertook, as such people are apt to be, and while generous to others spent little on himself. Since Mildred's return, the desire for a piano was stronger than ever. There was not one in the town, nor an organ, or any kind of keyed instrument, so that there was no chance for them to hear her play and judge of her improvement. And worse still, she would be in danger from want of practice, of losing all she had gained. But pianos cost a great deal in those days, and Mr. Keith could not just now spare the money to make the purchase and pay the heavy cost of transportation. Money was scarce in that region then. Business carried on very largely by barter. This made it easier for him to be at the expanse of enlarging his house than to pay for something that must come from a distance. There was little or no fretting or complaint over the state of things, but the children often talked longingly of the good time coming when father would be able, with the help of what they could earn and save, to sin for a piano. That time seemed to be brought a little nearer by an act of thoughtful kindness on the part of their dear Aunt Wealthy. She had set apart from her income a certain sum which she engaged to sin to their mother at regular intervals, to be divided among them as pocket money. The dear old lady could hardly have devised anything that would have given more pleasure. The news, as announced by Mildred on the day of her arrival, was received with demonstrations of wild delight and evidently the little ones now considered themselves moneyed individuals, taking great pride and pleasure in consulting together or with father and mother as to the disposal of their incomes. This opened up to the careful Christian parents a new opportunity for the study of the natural character of each of their children and the curbing of wrong inclinations, whether toward extravagance or veneriousness. One day, several weeks after Mildred's return, Rupert came in near the dinner hour and drawing his mother aside, whispered something in her ear. There was a look of covert delight in his face and his eyes sparkled as he added, one's long, low and broad mother can only be one thing, I think, just the thing we're all wanting so much, but where could it come from? Where do you suppose? She answered merrily. Well, the instant you are done, your dinner, you may go down and see them brought up. But father said it was your wish and his to make it a complete surprise to the children. Mildred included, laughed his mother, you are so much older than she, I will manage it. They shall be out of the way while we unpack. Mr. Keith came in presently and with his arrival the call to dinner. Mildred looked curiously at Rupert several times during the meal, wondering at his unaccustomed air of importance, the half exultant, meaning glance he now and then sent across the table to one or the other of their parents and the haste with which he swallowed his food and hurried from the table and the house, having asked to be excused as he had business of importance to attend to. Dear me, what heirs, laughed Zilla as he whisked out of the room. One would think he was a man, sure enough. Girls, said Mrs. Keith, I want you to take the little ones out for a walk this afternoon. It is a bright day in the walking good and if you are all well wrapped up you will not feel the cold, not if they go at once. Put in Mr. Keith. Run away and make yourselves ready, all of you. The party will be large enough without me, won't it? Mother, queried Mildred, you know I have a piece of sewing on hand then I am very desirous to finish before night. Let it go, child. You need air and exercise far more than I do the dress. Was the kind and smiling rejoiner. Then came a chorus of entreaties from all the children that mother would go to. But she would not hear of it. Had a matter of importance to attend to at home. Perhaps, if tomorrow should prove pleasant, she would go with them then. And so with smiles and merry, loving words she helped to make them ready and sent them on their way. Barely in time. For hardly were they out of sight when a wagon drove up with two large, weighty-looking boxes. Rupert and two men, beside the driver, were in the vehicle also and it took all their strength. With Mr. Keith's added to lift and carry the boxes into the house. Oh, it is a piano. I know it is, cried Rupert. As they sat down in the hall, the box he had described to his mother. A piano, did you say? Where had one of the men? As for a moment they all stood, panting, from their exertions and gazing down upon the burden they had just deposited upon the floor. Let's get it open quick then. For I never see one in my life Rupert ran for the hatchet and in another five minutes the lid was off the box and all remaining doubt vanished. It is, it is! cried the lad, fairly capering about the room in his delight. Oh, what a joyful surprise for the girls and all of us. But where on earth did it come from? Father, I had nothing to do with it, my son. Mr. Keith asserted with a grave earnestness that precluded the idea that he might be jesting. The boy looked bewildered, then disappointed. There's been some mistake. I'm afraid. Perhaps there's another family of our name somewhere in this region and... But his mother whispered a word in his ear and his face grew radiant. Is that it? Oh, mother. How good they are. Let's get the thing out and see what it's like, said the man who had spoken before. The others eagerly assented and set to work at once. Mr. Keith giving assistance and directions. Mrs. Keith pointing out the place in the parlor where she wished it to stand. You can play? I suppose, Mrs. Keith. Won't you give us a tune? Was the eager request when their task was ended? Smilingly, she seated herself and played Yankee Doodle with variations. They were delighted. First rate. Commented the one who seemed to act as chief Spokeman of the party. Now, the man. If you please. Won't you strike up Hale Columbia? She could naturally comply. Added Star-Spangled Banner then rose from the instrument. They thanked her warmly, saying they felt well-paid for bringing the thing in. You must come in again someday. If you enjoy hearing it, she said with gracious sweetness. I think you will find my daughter a better performer than I am. Yours is plenty good enough for us. They answered, bowing themselves out. It is a very sweet-toned instrument. She remarked, running her fingers over the keys. A most magnificent present. How delighted Mildred and the rest will be. I am eager to witness it, her husband said with a smile. It is indeed a most valuable gift. And nothing could have been more acceptable. They're the kindest. Most generous relations anybody ever had. Added Rupert, emphatically. What's in that other box? Shant we open it now? Books, answered his mother. Yes, we may as well open it and spread them out ready for Mildred's inspection. Most of them belong to her. This done, Mrs. Keith, again seated herself at the piano. The young people had taken a pretty long walk, moving briskly to keep themselves warm for the November air was frosty and were now returning in gay spirits. Eyes sparkling in cheeks glowing with health and happiness. While the tongues of the little ones ran fast and a joyous shout or a silvery laugh rang out now and then, for the greater part of their way lay not through the streets of the town but on its outskirts along the river bank through the groves of saplings and over still unoccupied prairie land. When they came where there were houses and people to be disturbed by their noise their mirth subsided a little and they spoke to each other in subdued tones. As they drew near home unaccustomed surprising sounds greeted their astonished ears. Oh, what's that music? cried the little ones. Such pretty music. Boy, it sounds like a piano. exclaimed the older ones. But where could it come from? And they rushed tumultuously into the house even Mildred forgetting the staid propriety of her years. The parlor doors stood open and, yes, there it was. A beautiful piano. Mother's skillful fingers bringing out its sweetest tones. Father and Rupert standing enraptured close beside her and Celestia and slaves rolled up dish-tall in hand eyes dancing and mouth stretched in a broad grin stationed at the farther end. Well, I never. Where on earth did the critter come from? She exclaimed just as the others came upon the scene. I never see the like. I never did. She went on. I just ran downtown of an orent and I'd come home again and in the back door and begun to wash up them dishes when I heard this a-going and come in to find out what under the sun was a-going on. But no one seemed to hear a word she said. The children were jumping and careening about the room and frantic delight clapping their hands pouring out questions and exclamations. Oh, aren't you glad? Aren't you glad? Isn't it a beauty? It's just too nice for anything. Who did send it? Mildred stood silently gazing at it her eyes full of glad tears. Father and Rupert were watching her taking no notice of the others. Well, dear, her mother said, whirling about on the piano stool and looking up into her face with tender, loving eyes. Oh, mother, it is too much. She cried. The tears beginning to fall. Uncle Dinsmore sent it. I know and I do believe it's one of the very two I like the best of all we saw. He bought the other for themselves and this for us, for you, dear. But indeed it is. He says, not his own gift, but Cousin Torres's. The books are from him, our kind, generous uncle. And she pointed to them where they lay piled high upon the table. Books, too? Mildred exclaimed an increased astonishment and delight. Yes, he has marked out a course of reading for you subject to your father's and my approval and sent the necessary books and some others beside. Mother's wife was speaking. Mr. Keith had drawn near and put an arm about Mildred's waist and now she fairly broke down and hiding her face on her father's shoulder sobbed aloud. The children were immediately awed into silence. They gathered around her asking in half frightened tones. Millie, Millie, what's the matter? Are you sorry the pianos come? We thought you'd be so glad and so I am. She said, lifting her head and smiling through her tears. Her mother vacated the stool. Her father seated her thereon and hastily wiping away her tears. She sent her fingers flying over the keys in a lively merry tune that set the children to jumping and dancing more wildly than before. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of Mildred and Elsie. This is a labor box recording. All labor box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit laborbox.org Mildred and Elsie by Martha Finley. Chapter 9 Labor in the path of duty gleamed up like a thing of beauty. Cranch. My dear child, you have improved wonderfully. Mrs. Keith said, as Mildred concluded, a much longer and more difficult piece of music than the one with which she had begun. She has indeed. I'm quite proud of her performance, echoed Mr. Keith. She does make terrible fine music, put in Celestia Anne, but I wished she'd stop a bit or them dishes, oh mine, I'll never get washed. And I must go to the office, said Mr. Keith, looking at his watch and glancing about in search of his hat. And I, to my sewing, added Mildred, rising. The children entreated somewhat clamorously for more, but yielded their wish at once on Mother's decision that they must wait till after tea. Oh, the books! cried Mildred, springing toward them with an eager gesture. But no, turning away with a half sigh, I must not take time to even look at them now. Yes, you may. Her mother said, smilingly, glance at the titles and dip in here and there, just to whet your appetite. Read this note from your uncle, too, and then we can talk over your plans for mental culture, while busy with our needles. Always the same kind, indulgent mother, Mildred said, with a look of grateful love. I will do so then and try to work fast enough afterwards to make up for lost time. Half an hour later, she joined her mother and sisters, who were all sewing industriously. Such a nice note, mother, shall I read it to you? Yes, if you like. I always enjoy uncle's letters. It sounds just like his talk. Mildred said when she had done reading, saying the kindest things, half jestingly, half earnestly. But the idea of his thinking, I must have wondered that he gave me no special parting gift. When he was all the time he being favors upon me. But it was cousin Horace who gave the piano, said Ada. Yes, uncle the books. And now I must strive to show my appreciation of their kindness by making the best possible use of both presents. For your own improvement and that of others, added her mother, I want you to lend them one at a time to Effie Prescott and poor go-to-bed light cap. What about him, mother? Mildred asked, taking up her sewing. The children told me he had been elected sheriff. Yes, I was very glad. He deserves every encouragement for his trying hard to educate himself. And I really hope some day may be able to enter one of the learned professions. Poor fellow. Mildred exclaimed feelingly, tears starting to her eyes as memory brought vividly before her. The sad scenes connected with the loss of his right hand. He is welcome to the use of any or all of my books. I will gladly do anything in my power to help him. Now, suppose we talk about ourselves and our own affairs. Zilla suggested in her sprightly way, I'm extremely anxious to learn to play on that lovely piano. But don't see how either you, mother, or Millie is to find time to give me lessons. For you are both busy as bees now, from morning to night. And I want to learn too. Put in Ada imploringly. So you shall, dears, both of you, if you continue to be good, industrious, helpful girls you have been for the past year. The mother said, with her cheery smile, Millie, and I will manage it between us. Almost all our winter clothes are made now, so that we will not need to give so much time to sewing as we have for the past month or more. Mildred seemed to be thinking, I believe we can manage it, she said presently. I hear the recitations from 9 to 11 now, you know. We must begin at 8 after this. And then from 10 to 12 can be spared for the two music lessons. And the afternoons and evenings you must reserve for yourself. Your exercise, study, reading and recreation, added Mrs. Keith. While I oversee the practicing and the preparation of lessons for the next day, two music lessons a week to each will be all sufficient. Yes, I am sure that with system and rigid economy of time, making good use of each golden minute as it flies, we can accomplish all that is necessary, if not all that is desirable. Again a few moments of thoughtful silence on Mildred's part. Then, Mother, she said, do you think I ought to take that Sunday school class? I don't feel fit. And, and besides, it will take a good deal of my time to attend right to it. Prepare the lessons and occasionally visit the children through the week. I would have you consider the question carefully and prayerfully and in the light of God's holy word, which is our only rule of faith and practice. Daughter, as we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, he that wheneth souls is wise. But, Mother, I am not wise. Mildred's tone was low and humble. If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God that giveth to all men liberally and up-braideth not. And it shall be given him. Ask for it and search the scriptures for it, for we are told the entrance of thy word giveth light. It giveth understanding to the simple. And while you study it for the benefit of others, you will be cultivating your own soul, a matter of even greater importance than the culture of your intellect. And I could not do the first without at the same time doing the last. No, that is very true. Also I trust, daughter, that your great motive for improving your mental powers is that you may thus be prepared to do better service to the Master. I hope so, Mother. It is. If I know my own heart, Mildred said, looking up with shining eyes, I know it is sad that duties never conflict. Yet it does seem sometimes as though they did. As, for example, her Mother's eye smiled encouragingly and sympathizingly into hers. Why? There is the weekly church prayer meeting to take one whole evening out of the six, only from an hour to an hour and a half, corrected Mrs. Keith. But it breaks into the evening so that one can hardly do much with the leavings, Mildred said with a slight laugh. And then the young girl's prayer meeting breaks up one afternoon of every week. And besides, oh, Mother, it is a real trial to me to lead in prayer. And I am sure to be called on. I hope you will never refuse. Mrs. Keith said gently and with a tender, loving look, we should never fear to attempt any duty looking to God for help, for it shall be given and a blessing with it. It is a great cross to me, greater than the Master bore for you. Oh, no, no, nothing to compare to it. Or even to what many a martyr and many a missionary has done and mourned for him. And it is not a blessed privilege to be permitted to do and bear something for his dear sake. Mrs. Keith asked with glistening eyes and in tones trembling with emotion. Oh, Mother, yes. And Mildred's head bowed low. A tear fell on her work. Oh, my darling, be a wholehearted Christian. The mother went on, speaking with intense earnestness. Consecrate yourself and all you have to the Master's service. Time, talents, influence, money, everything you possess. He gave himself for us. Shall we hold back anything from him? Oh, no, but Mother. Well, dear, shall I not do better service by and by, perhaps, by now giving my whole time, energy, and thought to preparation for it? Do you find that you can always do a given amount of mental work in a given space of time? No, Mother. Sometimes my brain is so active that I can do more in an hour than at some other times I can accomplish in a day. And cannot he who made you and gave you all your mental powers cause them at any time to be thus active? My child, he never lets us lose by working for him. In some way, he will more than make it good to us. He that watereth shall be watered also himself. Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added on to you. Mildred looked up brightly. I think I am sure you are right, Mother, and I will take up all those duties, trusting to the dear Master to help me with them and with my studies. My time is his as well as all else that I have. Yes, ye are not your own, for ye are bought with a price. Therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, which are Gods. Who, Mother? Asked little fan, playing with her doll nearby. All God's children, my child, I want to be one, Mother, but who bought them? And with what? What price? Christ bought them, dear, with his own precious blood. Mother, said Ada Softly, how good he was. I wish I could do something for him, but I am not old enough to teach in Sunday school or pray in the prayer meeting. No, darling, but you can pray at home, kneeling alone in your own room and join with your heart in the prayers at family worship and at church. You can pray in your heart at any time and in any place, for yourself and for others. In his great kindness and condescension, God listens to our prayers at all times, if they come from the heart and just as readily to those of a little child as to those of the wisest and mightiest of men. Oh, Mother, I'm glad of that. But if I could do some work for him, I'd love to do it. Do you remember, dear, that once when Jesus was on earth, the people asked him, What shall we do that we might work the works of God? And Jesus answered and said on to them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent. That was Jesus himself. The child said thoughtfully, Staying her needle in mid-air, while her eyes sought the floor. Mother, could you tell me just what is meant by believing on him so as to be saved? It can't mean only believing all the Bible says about him is true, because it tells us the devils also believe and tremble. I heard Father read it from the Bible at worship this morning. Yes, my dear child, it does mean much more than that, the mother said, and silently asked help of God to make it clear to the apprehension of all present. Even to little Anise, who lent confidingly against her knee, the blue eyes gazing earnestly into her face, the devils know the truth, but they don't love it. She said, God's children do. They are glad that he reigns and rules in all the universe, but the devils gnash their teeth with rage that it is so, and would tear him from his throne if they could. The two little boys were in the room. Cyril, whittling, dawn pouring over a new book that Mildred had brought him from Philadelphia. The one shut his jackknife, the other his book, and both drew near to listen. Jesus didn't die for them. Did he, mother, asked Cyril? No, my son, there is no salvation offered them, and God might justly have left us in the same awful condition. But of his great love and mercy has provided a wonderful way by which we can be saved. For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believeth in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life. Faith is another word that means the same as believing. The Bible tells us that without faith it is impossible to please God. Also, that the faith which availeth anything worketh by love unto you, therefore which believe, he that is Jesus is precious. The faith that pleases God and will save from sin and eternal death loves the Lord Jesus Christ and trusts for salvation only in what he has done and suffered for us. We can't do anything to save ourselves, mother. We cannot do anything to earn our salvation. We can have it only as God's free, undeserved gift. We have all broken God's holy law, but Jesus kept it perfectly in our stead. Our sins deserve God's wrath and curse, both in this life and that which is to come. For it is written, cursed is everyone who continueeth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them. But Jesus has borne that curse for all his people. Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law. Being made a curse for us. I should like to have that right. Kind of faith, if I knew just how to get it. Mother, said Aida, by grace are ye saved through faith and not of yourselves. It is the gift of God. Quoted Mrs. Keith. Ask for it, my child. Jesus said, everyone that asketh receiveth. And again, if ye shall ask anything in my name, I will do it. You know, my child, that though we cannot see him, he is always near. Go to him in prayer. Confess your sins. Tell him that you are all together sinful by nature and by practice and can do nothing at all to deserve his favor. But that you come in his name and pleading what he has done and suffered for you because he has invited you so to come. Ask him to take away your wicked heart and give you a new one full of love to him. Accept his offered salvation from sin and hell. Give yourself to him and he will take you for his own. For he says, him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out. He will give you true faith and true repentance. Sorrow for sin because it is displeasing to God, a sorrow that will lead you to hate and forsake it. And to be a follower of God as a dear child, doing him service from the heart, striving to please, honor, and glorify him in all things. Not that you may be saved, but because you are saved. But what can a little girl like me do for him, mother? Or a boy like me or zero, at dawn. Christ is our example. And one thing the Bible tells us of him is that when he was a child on earth, he was subject to his parents. That is, he obeyed and honored them. You must do the same by yours if you would be his disciples. There are few, comparatively, whom God calls to do what men consider great things for him. But if we do faithfully each little everyday duty, it may be only to learn a lesson, to sweep or dust a room, to make a bed, go on an errand, or something else quite as simple and easy. Because we want to please and honor him, he will accept it as work done for him. Men can judge only from appearances. God sees the heart, the motives. And according as they are good or bad, is he pleased or displeased with our acts? Mother! cried Ada, looking up with a glad smile. How nice that is! Any work must be sweet when we think of God watching and being pleased with us for doing it just as well as we can, because we love him. Yes, daughter! Love is a great sweetener of labor of whatever kind it may be. End of chapter 9. Chapter 10 of Mildred and Elsie This is a LibriVox recording. While LibriVox recordings are in the public domain, for more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Mildred and Elsie by Martha Finley Chapter 10 True faith and reason are the soul's two eyes. Faith evermore looks upon and describes objects remote. Quarles Mr. Keith and Wallace Ormsby were busy. Each at his own desk on broken silence had rained in the office for the last half hour, when suddenly dropping his pen and wheeling about in his chair, the elder gentleman addressed the younger. Why? How's this? Wallace. I haven't seen you in my house or heard of your being there for weeks. What's wrong? Wallace, taken by surprise, could only stammer out rather incoherently something about having had a good deal to do. Correspondence and other writing studying up that case. You know, sir. Come, come, now. You're not so hard-pushed with work that you can't take a little recreation now and then. Returned his interrogator kindly. And really, I don't think you can find a much better place for that than at my house, especially since Mildred's at home again. That is very true, sir, said Wallace. But I'd be extremely sorry to wear out my welcome. He added, with a laugh that seemed a trifle forest. No fear of that, Wallace. Not the slightest. Mr. Keith answered heartily. Why, we consider you quite one of the family. We can never forget how kindly you nursed us in that sickly season. And we have a new attraction. Yes, sir, I heard. A very fine instrument, isn't it? Yes, if we are judges. Come up this evening and hear Mildred play. I think she has really a genius for music. But that may be a fond father's partiality. The invitation was too tempting to be declined. It had taken a very strong effort of will to enable the lovesick Swain to stay so long away from his heart's idle. And now under her father's hospitable urgency his resolution gave way. Thank you, sir. I shall be delighted to come. And I have no doubt Miss Mildred is quite as fine a performer as you think her, he said. And each resumed his pen. Mrs. Keith, with strong faith in the wisdom of the old adage, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Always insisted upon each member of her household taking a due amount of recreation. The older girls would sometimes, in their eagerness to finish a piece of work or learn a lesson for the moral, be ready to take up book or sewing immediately on leaving the tea table. But their mother put a veto upon that. And by precept and example, encouraged a half hour of social chat, romping with the little ones or gathering about the piano to listen to Mildred's playing. And often a little time before tea was given to music both vocal and instrumental, everyone, even down to little Anise, frequently taking part in the latter. The season of mirth and jollity was over for the evening. Mrs. Keith had taken the younger children away to put them to bed. Zilla and Ada were at their tasks in the sitting room. But Mildred still lingered at the piano, feeling that she had need of practice to recover lost ground. Mr. Keith listened a little longer, then remarking that he must see Squire Chetwood about a business matter. Dawned, hat and overcoat and went out. Rupert stood beside his sister, turning the pages of her music and praising her execution. I'd like all the town to hear you, he said. I should prefer a much smaller audience. She returned, laughingly. Rue, did you remember to mail that letter? No, I didn't, he cried, in some consternation. She drew out her pretty watch. There's time yet, he said, glancing at its face. So I'm off, hurrying out of the front door. He encountered Ormsby in the porch. Hello, is that you, Wallace? He cried a little more and there'd have been a collision. Haven't seen you here for an age. Been wondering what had become of you. Well, walk right in. You'll find Millie and the parlor. But you must excuse me for a while, as I have a letter to mail. He held the door open as he spoke. And having seen the collar inside, hastily shut it without waiting for a reply to his remarks. And rushed away. The parlor door stood ajar, Wallace tapped lightly. But Mildred, intent upon her music, did not hear. And he stole quietly in. He stood for a moment almost entranced by the low, sweet tones of voice and instrument. Mildred was thinking of Charlie, and her voice was full of pathos as she sang. When we two parted in silence and tears, half broken-hearted, to sever for years. A deep sigh startled her, and she turned hastily to find. Not Charlie, but Wallace regarding her, with eyes full of despairing, love mingled, with tender compassion. He saw that her eyes were full of tears, and coming quickly to her side took her hand in his. Dear Mildred, I can't bear to see you unhappy, he said, in low, tremulous tones. Don't grieve. It will all come right some day. Ah, if only I could have won your heart. And again he sighed deeply. It's the old story. The course of true love never will run smooth. And we can only be sorry for each other. She returned with force, gaiety, and hastily wiping away her tears. Take a seat, won't you, and I'll give you something more cheerful than that sickly sentimental stuff you caught me singing. That is, of course, if you wish to hear it. And she looked up into his face with an arched smile. A tete-a-tete with him at that time was not desirable. Would be rather embarrassing. She wanted to avoid it. And heartily wished someone of the family would come in immediately. Therefore was not seriously displeased at the sudden and unexpected entrance of Celestia Anne. This very independent maid of all work came bustling in, dressed in her Sunday vest, and with a bit of sewing in her hand. Good evening, Mr. Ormsby, she said, nodding to him, then turning to Mildred. I declare, Miss Mildred, your plan is so powerful, fine, I couldn't no ways stand it to set out there in the kitchen, while the piano was a-going in here, and nobody to listen to it. You see, I thought you were alone, but I reckon Mr. Ormsby won't mind me. Wallace was too well aware of the value of the woman's services and the difficulty of retaining them to make any objection. He merely nodded and smiled in reply to her salutation. Then turning to Mildred, answered her with, Indeed I should be delighted. In fact, your father invited me to call this evening for the express purpose of listening to your music. And he added in a whisper, Though I feared my visit might not be altogether welcome to you, I had not the courage to deny myself so great a pleasure. There was no occasion. Mildred said, In the same low tone, We all want you to feel yourself quite at home here. You'll excuse the intrusion of Oh, certainly, I understand it. Celestia Anne had seated herself beside a lamp, burning on a distant table, and was industriously plying her needle. Come, give us a lively tune. Miss Millie, won't she? She said, Yankee Doodle, or Hail Columbia, or some of them tunes folks dances to. Or what will you have, Mr. Ormsby? Asked Mildred. I, he said, with a smile, Oh, I own to sharing this Hunzinger's partiality for our national heirs, and am well satisfied with the selections already made. Mildred gave them in succession. A tall man with a book under his arm stood in a listening attitude at the gate. Mrs. Keith, seeing him from an upper window, came down and opened the front door. Mr. Light Cap, she said in her pleasant voice, Won't you come in out of the cold? I come to fetch back your book, Mrs. Keith, he said, moving toward her with long strides. And I thought I'd not disturb the folks in your parlor by knocking whilst that music was a-going. I'm a thousand times obliged for the loan of the book, ma'am. And he handed it to her, and then lifted his cap as if in a do. No, no, don't go yet, she said. I have another book for you, and you must have some more of the music, if you care to hear it. Without standing in the cold to listen, her pleasant cordiality put him at his ease, And he followed her into the parlor. Mildred was playing and singing Star-Spangled Banner, Wallace accompanying her with his voice, So taken up with the business in hand, That they did not perceive the entrance of Mrs. Keith and go to bed until they joined in on the chorus. When Mildred looked up in surprise and nodded a smiling welcome to the latter, Tell you, that's grand, he exclaimed at the close, His face lighting up with patriotic enthusiasm. There's something mighty inspiring about them national heirs, oh yarn, Don't she think so, Mrs. Keith? Yes, she said, they always stir my blood with love for my dear native land, And awaken emotions of gratitude to God in those gallant forefathers Who fought and bled to secure her liberties. Ah, he sighed with a downward glance at his mutilated arm, I can never lift sword or gun for her if occasion should come again. But you may do as much, or even more, in other ways, She responded cheerily, I can't see how, ma'am, He returned with a rueful shake of the head, Knowledge is power, intellect can often accomplish more than brode force. Go on cultivating your mind and storing up information, And opportunities for usefulness will be given you in due time. She answered with her bright, sweet smile, Then turned with a cordial greeting to Lou Grange And Claudina and Will Chetwood ushered in at that moment by Celestia Ann, Who now took her departure to the kitchen, Probably thinking Miss Mildred had listeners enough to be able to spare her. The piano was a new and powerful attraction to the good people of pleasant planes, And all the friends and acquaintance of the Keith's, As well as some whose title to either appellation was doubtful, Flocked to hear it in such numbers that for two or three weeks after its arrival, Mildred seemed to be holding a levy almost every evening. How my time is being wasted, she sighed one evening as the door closed upon the last departing guest. No, dear, I think not, Responded her mother, with an affectionate look and a kindly reassuring smile, You are recovering lost ground, Perfecting yourself in facility of execution, And giving a great deal of pleasure, And it is no small privilege to be permitted to do that last, To cheer heavy hearts, To lift burdens, To make life even a little brighter, To some of our fellow creatures, Is not that soul? Yes, mother, it is, And yet I find it very trying, To have my plan so often interfered with, Ah, my child, We must not allow ourselves to become too much attached to our own plans, Return, Mrs. Keith, With a slightly humorous look and tone, And passing her hand caressingly over Mildred's hair, For all through life we shall be very frequently compelled by circumstances to set them aside. Is there any use in making plans? Then, the girl asked half impatiently, Surely there is. If we would accomplish anything worthwhile, We must lay our plans carefully, thoughtfully, wisely, Then carry them out with all energy and perseverance, Yet not allow ourselves to be impatient and unhappy, When providentially called upon to set them aside, It is not in man that walketh to direct his steps, And we ought to be not only willing to bend to God's providence, But glad to have him choose for us, Ah, yes, mother, Yes, indeed, Mildred murmured, A dewy light coming into her eyes, If one could only always realize that he sims or permits these little trials, They wouldn't be hard to bear, For it is sweet to have him choose for us. It so happened that this was the last of that trial of Mildred's patience. A storm set in that night which lasted for several days, Keeping almost everybody at home, Then came weeks of ice and snow, Making fine slaying, Skating and sliding, Thus furnishing other and more exciting amusement to the residents of the town, Both old and young. The Keats took their share in these winter pastimes, Mildred as well as the rest, Often doing so to please her mother rather than herself. Yet always finding enjoyment in them, It was a busy life she led that winter, And by no means an unhappy one, Despite of the obstinate refusal of the course of true love to run smooth, It came to a rougher place to deeper, Swifter rapids in the ensuing spring. Through all these months of separation, She and Charlie had kept up a correspondence, Though at somewhat irregular and infrequent intervals, A much longer time than usual had now passed, And yet her last letter to him remained unanswered. She was secretly very much disturbed in mind, A sorely troubled less some evil had befallen him, Though not permitting herself to doubt for a moment that his love for her Remained as strong and fervent as ever. At last a letter came, Rupert brought it from the office at noon, And handed it to her with a meaning smile, A twinkle of fun in his eyes, Something to brighten the stole. Rainy day for you, sis, he said gaily. Thank you, she be turned, Flushing rosy red, And her heart giving a joyous bound, She slipped the missive into her pocket. What? Not going to read it after the long journey it has taken to reach you? He asked, lifting his eyebrows in mock astonishment. Not now, it will keep, And I must get mother's toast and tea ready for her. There will be barely time before father comes in to dinner. How is she? Better, but not able to be up yet. These bad headaches always leave her weak, And I shall try to persuade her to lie still all the afternoon. With the last word, Mildred hurried away to the kitchen. The morning had been a very trying one. It was Monday, The day of the week on which Celestia Anne Always insisted upon doing the family washing Without regard to the state of the weather. She prided herself on getting her clothes out early And having them white as the driven snow. And her temper was never proof Against the trial of a Monday morning storm. There had been a steady pour of rain since before daybreak. And the queen of the kitchen, Consequently in anything but an amiable mood, A severe headache had kept Mrs. Keith in bed And to Mildred had fallen the task of guiding and controlling The domestic machinery and seeing that its wheels ran smoothly. She had several disputes to settle between Ada and Zilla on the one side And the irate maid of all work on the other All so much a do to induce the younger children To attend to their lessons And then to keep them amused and quiet that her mother Might not be disturbed by their noise. And through it all her heart was heavy With its own peculiar burden. Besides, atmospheric influences had their depressing effect Upon her spirits, as upon those of the others And more than once a sharp or impatient word Repented of, as soon as uttered, had escaped her lips. An undeserved blessing was her remorseful thought At sight of the letter. It may be ill news to be sure. Oh, if it should. Yet anything is better than this terrible suspense. But that must be borne until she could snatch A moment of solitude in which to end it. Zilla, stooping over the kitchen fire, Looked up hastily as her sister entered. You've come to get mother's dinner, Millie? Well, here it is already. Pointing to the teapot steaming on the hearth Besided a plate of nicely browned and buttered toast. Oh, you dear good girls! Was Mildred's response as she glanced From the stove to the table, Upon which Ada was in the act Of placing a neatly arranged tea tray. As if it wasn't the greatest pleasure in the world To do a little for mother, exclaimed The latter half indignantly. You didn't think, Millie, That the rest of us don't love her Just as well as you do. I meant no such insinuation. Mildred said, half laughing. I'm sure our mother deserves the greatest possible Amount of love and devotion From all her children. But may I claim the privilege of carrying Up the dinner you two have prepared? Yes, I suppose it's no more than fair To let you do that much. But you'd needn't expect me to think It's any great goodness. Ada answered, putting the finishing touches To her work, and stepping aside to let Mildred take possession of the tray. Certainly nothing is farther from my thoughts Than claiming credit for any service done To mother. Mildred answered good-humoredly As she took up the tray and walked away With it. With quick light step she passed up the stairs And entering her mother's room With almost noiseless tread Was greeted with a smile. I am not asleep, dear. And the pain is nearly gone. Mrs. Keith said, speaking from the bed in low Quiet tones. I am so glad, mother. And I hope a cup of tea will complete the cure. Mildred answered softly, setting down her burden On a little stand by the bedside And gently assisting her mother to a sitting posture A dainty little meal. My dear child, you are the greatest possible comfort to me. Mrs. Keith remarked presently. As she handed back the empty cup. But it was, Illa, and Ada who prepared it today. Mother. Mildred returned, ever careful to give others their just-do Though her eyes shone. Yes, they are dear girls, too. The mother said, I am greatly blessed in my children. But I was thinking more of the freedom from care Given me by having you here to take the head of affairs. The others, though doubtless equally willing, Are still too young for that. So I could never give myself up To the full enjoyment of a headache while you were away. She added in her own peculiarly pleasant Sportive tone and manner. I cannot have fill your place, mother dear. I have not half your wisdom or patience. Mildred said with a blush and sigh. You exaggerate my virtues, Millie. I can imagine from past experience how your patience May have been tried today. Well, dear, if there has been a partial failure, Do not let that rob you of your peace. Like as a father pitieth his children, So the Lord pitieth them that fear him. And though he cannot look upon sin with any degree of allowance, Yet when we turn from it with true repentance And desire after holiness, Pleading the merits of his dear son As our only ground of acceptance, We find him ever ready to forgive. What a blessing! What a glorious privilege it is that we have. In that we may turn, in heart, To him for pardon and cleansing the moment. We are conscious of sin and thought, Word, or deed. Yes, mother, I do feel it so. And how strangely kind he often is in sending joys and comforts When we feel that we deserve punishments, rather. Mildred said with tears springing to her eyes As she drew out her letter and held it up. From Charlie, Mrs. Keith exclaimed, With a pleased smile. My darling, I am very glad for you. I hope it brings good news. Mildred turned it in a way to show That the seal was not yet broken, Answering in low, tremulous tones, And between a smile and a sigh. I have not found out yet. It must wait for a quiet after-dinner half-hour. My brave, patient girl, Mrs. Keith said tenderly, Passing a hand caressing layover, Mildred's hair in cheek, Let mother share the joy or sorrow, Whichever it brings. Mildred brought but scant appetite to the meal. Which seemed to her an unusually long and tedious one, But she was able to control her impatience And give due attention to the comfort of father, Brothers, and sisters. Until at length, she found herself at liberty To retire for a season to the privacy of her own room. Her hand trembled and her heart beat fast Between hope and fear as she drew the letter From her pocket and broke the seal. What if it brought ill news? That Charlie was in trouble? Or that his love had grown cold? Had she strength to bear it? Oh, not of herself. But there was one who had said, In me is thine help, fear thou not, For I am with thee. Be not dismayed, for I am thy God. I will strengthen thee. Yay, I will help thee. One moment silent pleading of his gracious promises. And she had grown calm and strong To endure whatever his providence had sent. Tears dropped upon the paper as she read For Charlie was indeed in sore trouble. The first few sentences read As though the writer were half frenzied with distress. He had lost everything, so he wrote. Both his own and his uncle's property Had been suddenly and completely swept away And the shock had killed the old gentleman, His only near relative, leaving him friendless And alone in the world, utterly alone, Utterly friendless. For he could not hope that she Who had refused him in prosperity Would be willing to share his poverty. Nor could he ask it. But never, never could he forget her. Never love another. Then under a later date, And in apparently calmer mood, He continued, I am about to leave the home Of my childhood and youth. It passes today into the hands of strangers And I go out into the wide world To seek some way of retrieving my broken fortunes With youth, health, and strength And a liberal education. Surely I need not despair Of finally attaining that end. Though it will doubtless take years Of toil and struggle, But when it is accomplished, You shall hear from me again. Nay, you shall find me at your feet. Sewing for the priceless moon I have hitherto sought in vain. I will not despair. For my heart tells me you will be true to me Even through many long years of separation If such fate has decreed us And that in answer to your prayers The barrier between us will one day be swept away. Share his poverty. Ah, would I not if I might? Mildred cried half aloud And with a burst of tears. What greater boon could I ask Than the privilege of comforting him In his sorrows? Oh, Charlie, Charlie, You have given no address And so put it out of my power To offer even the poor consolation Of written words of sympathy, Of hope and cheer. No one came to disturb Mildred in her solitude. She had time for thought And for the casting of her care upon him Who was her strong refuge. Where onto she might continually resort? Mrs. Keith had not left her own room. And downstairs the two elder girls Were busied with their needles. While Rupert kept the younger children quiet With kite-making and a story Moved there too partly by a good-natured desire For their amusement, but principally Through affectionate concern for mother And elder sister. Mrs. Keith lay on her couch, Thinking, a little anxiously, Of Mildred, when the door opened And the young girl stole softly to her side. Is it ill news, my darling? The mother asked in tender, pitying accents, Lansing up compassionately at the dewy eyes In tear-stained cheeks. I will read you this letter, mother. You know I have no secrets from you. My loved and only confident. Mildred answered a little tremulously And stooping to press a kiss on her mother's lips. Then, seating herself, She unfolded the sheet and read in low tones Which she vainly tried to make calm and even Ah, mother, if only he were a Christian. She exclaimed, with a burst of uncontrollable weeping. Do not despair of seeing him such one day. Her mother returned, laying a gentle, Quieting hand on that of the weeper. God is the hearer and answerer of prayer. The answer may be long delayed For the trial of your faith, but it will come at last. What is Charlie waiting for? sighed Mildred. How strange that he cannot see That God's time for the sinner to come And be reconciled to him is always now. Ah, I do so want him to know The comfort of casting all his care on the Lord. The blessedness of the man who trusts in him. Yes, it is a strange delusion. It is one of Satan's devices to persuade men To put off this most important of all transactions To a more convenient season, which he knows will never come. But, dear child, we will unite our prayers On Charlie's behalf to him, who has all power In heaven and in earth, and who has graciously promised. If two of you shall agree on earth As touching anything that they shall ask, It shall be done for them of my father Which is in heaven. End of chapter 10 Chapter 11 of Mildred and Elsie This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Kylie Goodfellow Mildred and Elsie by Martha Finley Chapter 11 Ah, what is a human life? How, like the dial's tardy moving shade, Day after day slides from us unperceived. The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth. Too subtle is the movement to be seen. Yet, soon the hour is up, and we are gone. Young. Mother, he seems to imply that I am not likely to hear from him again for many years. Mildred remarked, half an assertion, half as asking her mother's understanding of the drift of young lander's communication. Yes, I think so. Mrs. Keith responded in gentle, pitying tones, then more brightly and cheerly. But perhaps, dear, that certainty is better. We'll be less trying than a constantly disappointed looking for of letters. Mildred gave a silent assent, while a tear rolled quickly down her cheek. She dashed hastily aside. Mother, dearest mother, you must help me to be brave and cheerful, not letting this disappointment and anxiety spoil my life and make me a burden to myself and others. She whispered tremulously, laying her head on our mother's pillow and gazing lovingly, but through gathering tears into those dear eyes. I will, my poor darling, return Mrs. Keith in moved tones, putting an arm about her daughter's neck and drawing her closer to a cheek rested against cheek. And there is one who, with all power at his command, and loving you even more tenderly than your mother does, will give you such help and consolation in this sore trial as she cannot give. I know it. I am sure of it, murmured Mildred. I can trust him for myself, though the way looks dark and dreary. But, oh mother, it is not so easy to trust for Charlie. Perhaps, dear, that is one reason why this trial has sent you. Trust for our dear ones as well as for ourselves is a lesson we all need to learn. And to teach me patience, which is another lesson I greatly need and am very slow to learn, sighed Mildred. The trying of your faith worketh patience, but let patience have her perfect work. Oh, shall I ever be able to do that? Yes, at last, I am assured of it. Being confident of this very thing, that he who hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ. In all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. And trusting in him, living near to him, in the light of his countenance, we may have, we shall have great joy and peace in spite of tribulations. And those I know almost have in one way or another, said Mildred a little sadly, because we are told in acts, we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God. And Jesus told us disciples, in the world ye shall have tribulation. But, he added, be of good cheer, I have overcome the world, Mrs. Keith said with emotion, a joyous light shining in her eyes. Mother, said Mildred, I once heard the assertion that God's people were peculiarly marked out for trouble and trial in this world, that they must expect to have more than was allotted to world links. Do you think that is true? No, I find no such teaching in Scripture, nor his experience of life taught it to me. Many sorrows shall be to the wicked, but he that trusts in the Lord, mercy shall compass him about. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of them all. O fear the Lord ye his saints, for there is no want to them that fear him. Godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come. The Bible is full of the blessedness of those who fear and trust the Lord, whom the Lord loveth, he chaseneth, and scourges every son whom he receiveth, quoted Mildred doubtfully. Ah yes, the afflictions of the righteous are the loving discipline of a tender father, while upon the encourageably wicked he pours out his fury and judgments that bring no healing to their souls, only retribution for the sins unrepented of and unforgiven. Upon the wicked he shall reign snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest. This shall be the portion of their cup. The door opens softly and Ada looked cautiously in. That is right, dear, Mrs. Keed said, greeting the child with a loving smile. Come in and give mother a kiss. The pain is quite gone, and I am going to get up now and dress for tea. Don't, mother, unless you feel quite quite strong and well, the little girl entreated, receiving returning a tender caress. I'm so glad you were better. Oh, it isn't nice to have to do without mother, though I'm sure Milly has tried her very best to fill your place. I wouldn't have come here, because I was afraid of disturbing you, but there's a boy downstairs asking if Milly will go and watch tonight with a sick woman, Mrs. Martin. Claudina Chetwoods to watch, but there ought to be two, he says, I don't know of anybody else for tonight. She's been sick so long that most everybody is worn out. Professional nurses were unknown in the town, and in time of sickness the only dependence for needed attention outside of the sufferer's own family was upon the kindness of neighbors and as a rule they were exceeding kind. Mrs. Martin's health had been declining for many months. For weeks she had been confined to bed and in a condition to need constant watching and waiting upon. She's had scarcely a speaking acquaintance with her, but that made no difference when help was needed. Do you feel equal to the task, Mildred, asked her mother? I shall be sorry to have you lose your night's rest, but you can make it up to-morrow. I am not likely to have a return of the headache and when I am to the fore you can be spared, you know, she added sportively, and with a world of motherly pride and affection in the look she bent upon her firstborn. Yes, mother, it will not hurt me when duty seems so plain, Mildred answered cheerfully. How soon do they want me, Ada? He says about nine o'clock. Mrs. Pryor is going to stay till then. I'll go down and tell him they may expect you. And with the last word, Ada left the room. Mrs. Keith had left the bed for a low seat before her toilet table, and Mildred was softly brushing out and arranging her still beautiful and abundant hair, very tenderly careful lest too root of touch cause a return of the torturing pain. Poor, poor woman, sighed Mrs. Keith, thinking of Mrs. Martin. Is she considered very dangerously ill, mother, asked Mildred? Mrs. Pryor was telling me about her yesterday, Mrs. Keith answered. Dr. Grange said she has not long to live, but worst of all, Millie, she is dying without hope. Oh, mother, how terrible! Has no one tried to lead her to Jesus? Has no one told her of his great love and his power and willingness to save? Yes, months ago, while she was still up and about her house, Mrs. Pryor and others tried to talk to her about soul salvation, but she refused to listen, angrily telling them she was too weak to trouble herself with trying to think on that subject now, and must wait until she grew stronger, and all the time growing weaker and weaker. My child, I am glad you are to be with her tonight, for who knows but you may find a fitting moment in which you may speak a word that God may bless to the saving of her soul. How glad I should be to do it, Millard answered with emotion, but I am so young and foolish and ignorant. Mother, how can I hope to succeed where older and wiser people have failed? Not by might, nor by power, but my spirit, say at the Lord of Hosts. He often works by the feeblest instrumentalities and may see fit to use upon you, my dear girl. Ask his help and his blessing upon your effort, remembering his promise. If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God that give it to all men liberally and upbraid if not, and yet shall be given him. I will watch for an opportunity and you will help me with your prayers, mother. You may be sure of that, dear child. But, oh mother, how very much better you could speak to her than I. I doubt it, Millie, for the work must be of God, or it will come to not. And he can as readily make use of your mind and tongue as of mine. Don't rely on yourself. Don't forget that you are only an instrument. In spite of a very honest and earnest determination to be cheerful under this new trial of her faith and patience, and to bear her own burden according to the scriptural command, Mildred seemed to her father a little sad-eyed and paler than her want as he looked at her across the tea-table. My child, he said, I hear you are expecting to watch with the sick tonight, but really afraid you are not able to do so. You do not look well. Appearances are sometimes deceitful, you know, father. She returned with an effort to be bright and lively. I am quite well, and a fatigue tonight can rest and sleep tomorrow. Well, he said, only half convinced, lie down and until it is time for you to go. Yes, Mildred, if you can get an hour or two of sleep before your watch begins it will be a great help at her mother. We will call you at nine. Half past eight, if you please, mother, I want to be there in time to ask directions of Mrs. Pryor before she leaves. Mildred was not sorry to seek the quiet and solitude of her own room, but she scarcely slept. She seemed to have just fallen into a dose when Rupert knocked at her door to say that it wanted but ten minutes of the time she had set for starting, and he was ready to see her to her destination. I am glad you came early, was Mrs. Pryor's greeting, to get home seen to things there. They're pretty sure to go at sixes and sevens when I'm away, and even if my boarders don't growl about it, take treatment of them exactly fair. But I'll not leave you alone with her. Claudine will be here directly, and I'll stay till she comes. Oh, thank you, Mildred said. I shouldn't like to be left alone with anyone who is so ill, and I shall need to be told just what to do. How is she now? Can't last much longer, poor thing. Mrs. Pryor returned with a sad shake of the head. She's dreadful weak and short of breath, and awful afraid to go. Dear, dear, to think of anybody putting off preparation to the last minute when they know they've got to die, and after that the judgment. She won't allow a minister to come into the house, or let anybody say a word to her about her soul. Several has tried. I myself, but it's been no use. Perhaps if she'd been approached in the right way at first, it might have been different. Damaris Drybred was the first, I believe, to say anything to her, and between you and me, though Damaris means well, she's not always over-wise in her way of doing what she considers her duty. But there, I must run back to her. She ought to be left alone a minute. Come into the sitting-room and take off your things. The door into the next room where the invalid lay was open, and Mildred could hear her moaning and complaining in hollow, despairing tones. Mrs. Pryor answering in cheerful, soothing accents. Presently, Mrs. Pryor stepped back to the door and beckoned Mildred in. This is Miss Keith, Mrs. Martin, she said. She and Miss Chetwood will watch with you tonight, and do all they can to make you comfortable. Yes, you're all very kind. I know you'd help me if you could, but nobody can give me a minute's ease, and nobody knows what I have to suffer, moaned the sick woman, gazing piteously into the fresh young face bending over her. Mildred's eyes filled with tears, and she opened her lips to speak, but was stopped by a hasty exclamation. Hush, don't say a word, don't talk to me, don't ask me any questions. I won't hear it, I can't bear it, I'm too weak. I can only pray for her, was Mildred's thought, as she turned sorrowfully away and hastened to the outer door, where someone had wrapped lightly. It was Claudina, and after giving them the necessary instructions, Mrs. Pryor left them to their melancholy duty. As there was not more to be done than one could easily attend to, she had advised them to take turns in watching and sleeping. There was a lounge in the sitting room where one might rest very comfortably. Dina stretched herself on it, and almost immediately fell asleep, Mildred having chosen the first watch. The latter established herself in the sick room in an armchair by the bedside. She had brought a book, but the night lamp did not give sufficient light for reading. The invalid slept fitfully, tossing, moaning, and sighing in her sleep, and still more during her moments of wakefulness. Mildred had never felt wider awake, so strangely, fearfully solemn it seemed to sit there alone, in the coming of the Angel of Death, to one who shuddered and shrank at its approach. Again and again, while the dying woman slept, her watcher knelt by the bedside and poured out fervent, though silent petitions on her behalf, and for Charlie too, for her thoughts were full of him as well, and, oh, at that moment it seemed a small matter that they might never meet on earth. Could she only have the blessed assurance that eternity would unite them in another and better world? What's that you're doing, asked the patient, waking suddenly? Oh, I'm in awful stress. Rub me with some of that liniment, won't ya? Mildred complied, doing her best to give relief to the physical suffering, and crying mightily in her heart to the great physician for the healing of the sin-sick soul. Oh, the distress and anguish in those hollow, sunken eyes and express in every liniment of the wasted features. The bony hand clutched wildly at Mildred's dress, and drew her down close, I'm dying, and I'm not prepared, but I can't think I'm too weak. I must wait till I get stronger. Oh, no, no, come now to Jesus. He waits with open arms to receive you, cried Mildred. The tears coursing fast down her cheeks. He died to save you, and he is able and willing to save to the uttermost all who come to him. Come now. Too late. Too late. I'm too weak. I can't think. Don't talk to me anymore. Mildred's ear barely caught the faintly breathed words, and with the last, the hollow eyes closed, whether in sleep she could not tell. She found herself growing very weary, and the hands of the clock pointed to a half-hour past the set time for her vigil. She stole softly into the next room, roused Claudina, and took her place. Her last thought as she fell into a dreamless slumber was a prayer for the two for whom she had been so, unfortunately, bleeding. She had not slept more than a moment when a hand was laid on her shoulder, and Claudina's voice, trembling with fright, said Mildred. Mildred, oh Mildred, she's gone. Who, she asked, starting up only half awake. Mrs. Martin, I was rubbing her, and she moaned out, I'm too weak. I can't think. I must wait till I'm stronger. And with the last word turned her head, gassed once, and was gone. Claudina shuddered and hid her face. Mildred, she whispered, those words of our savior are ringing in my ears. What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? As a girl, her head was full of dress and bows, and having a good time. As a married woman, keeping the best table, the neatest house, and helping her husband to get on in the world. She had no time to think about her soul until sickness came, and then said she was too weak. She must wait to grow stronger. They clasped each other's hands and wept silently. Presently there was a sound of someone moving about the kitchen. The girl's hups said Claudina, rising from her kneeling posture beside the lounge. I'll go and tell her, and she'll let Mr. Martin know. Oh, the poor motherless baby! She left the room, and Mildred, starting up, saw the crack at the side of the window blind that the sun had risen and Mrs. Pryor was at the door come to inquire how the sick woman was. Through the sweet morning air, pure embracing after yesterday's showers, Mildred walked home, full of solemn, anxious thoughts. Charlie was a wanderer. She knew not with her, his absorbing desire and anxiety to retrieve his broken fortunes. Oh, that he would seek first the kingdom of God in his righteousness! Henceforward that should be the burden of her prayer for him, for herself, for all her dear ones. Then her heart was filled with a great thankfulness for the spared lies of all these. Some of them had already made preparation for the last long journey which, sooner or later, every son and daughter of Adam must take, and to the other's time was still given. End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 of Mildred and Elsie This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Kylie Goodfellow Mildred and Elsie by Martha Finley Chapter 12 Awaken me a truer life, a soul to labor and aspire. Touch thou my mortal lips, O God, with thine own truths in mortal fire. Sarah J. Clark Yes, it was joy and gladness just to be alive this sweet spring morning. The swift flowing river gleamed and sparkled in the sunlight. The forest trees on the farther side were touched with a tender yellow-green. The grass along the wayside and in the door yards was of a deeper, richer hue and spangled thickly with filets and dandelions, and the peach and cherry trees in the gardens were in full bloom. The air was filled with fragrance and with the twittering of birds, the ripple of the water, and other pleasant rural sounds. The music of glad young voices came pleasantly to Mildred's ear as she reached her father's gate and fan and anus who had been stooping over the flower beds came bounding to meet her while she's downstairs in the sitting room, cutting out sewing work. Yes, she's sure to be busy, Mildred said, hurrying into the house, bidding good morning as she passed to Ada who was sweeping the front porch. Everyone was busy with the cheerful energetic activity. Zilla preparing breakfast while Celestia Anne put on her clothes to dry. Rupert milked the cow and the younger boys fed the chickens. Mother, so early at work after your sickness yesterday, did you get some sleep and how was the poor sick woman? Yes, ma'am, I slept several hours and am feeling pretty well. Mrs. Martin died about half an hour ago, very suddenly at the last. while Dina was with her, I was asleep. I was asleep. I was asleep. I was asleep. I was asleep. I was asleep. I was asleep. Mildred's eyes filled and her voice was husky with emotion as she told of the solemn event. A silent shake of the head was the only answer she could give to her mother's next question, whether the dying woman had given any evidence that she was putting her trust in Christ. A look of sadness and pain came over the face of the Christian mother also while her heart sent up a silent, fervent prayer on behalf of her dear ones that each of them might be found at last in the Rock of Ages. My dear child, she said to Mildred, let us look upon this sad event as a solemn warning to us to be more faithful and constant in the work of striving to instill to Christ, remembering that the night cometh when no man can work. Ah, can I be sure that I am utterly guiltless of the blood of this woman to whom I never spoke one word of warning or entreaty? Mother, don't blame yourself, cried Mildred in her eyes. You had not even a speaking acquaintance with her. But, my dear, I might have had. I could easily have found some excuse for calling upon her in her sickness had I not allowed myself to be too much taken up with other cares and duties. But you can't do everything and take care of everybody, so Mildred, with affectionate warmth, and you were always at some good and useful work. It is I who ought to take the lesson to heart, and, God helping me, I will, she added, to earnest, trembling tones. Oh, mother, I feel this morning that the things of this world are as nothing compared with those of the next, and I want to show by my life that I do feel so. I want to spend it wholly in the master service, particularly in winning souls. For, oh, the awful thought of one being lost. That these were no idle, lightly spoken words was proven as days, weeks, and months rolled on by the ever-growing consistency of Mildred's daily walk and conversation, her constant effort to bring her daily life into conformity to the divine precept, whether therefore you eat or drink, or whatsoever you do, do all to the glory of God, and that other, as we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith. The members of the home circle were the first to feel a change in Mildred. She could hardly have made herself more helpful than she had long been, her thoughtfulness was more uniform, and the younger ones found her more patient with their shortcomings, more ready with sympathy and help in their little trials and perplexities. They soon learned to carry them to her as readily as to their best and kindest of mothers. They thought their elder sister very wise and liked to consult her about their plants. This gave her many an opportunity to influence them for good, and very rarely was it neglected. Spring was a very busy season with them all. Within doors house cleaning of sowing, so many new garments to be made, so many old ones to be renovated and altered to suit the increased stature of the growing lads and lasses, outside the gardening, the making everything neat and trim, and the care of the poultry. Lessons were intermitted for two or three weeks to give the older members of the family time for their unusual labours, while the children reveled in the delights of digging, planting, and sowing, looking after their sitting hands and tending their broods of little chicks. There was a great deal of helpful pleasure gotten out of the little plots of ground appropriated in several tea to Cyril, Don, Fan, and Anas, and hardly less from their fowls. Besides, the young owners were learning habits of industry and thrift, also the enjoyment of being able to give to the Lord's cause of that which had cost them something. A beggar was a thing almost unknown in the town, and there were very few people poor enough to be objects of charity, but it was nice, the children thought, to have something of their very own to put into the church or sabbath school collection, especially when it was to go to buy bibles and pay for sending missionaries to the poor benighted heathen. The cause of missions was dear to the hearts of the parents, and they were training their children to love and work for it. Rupert was the principal gardener and manager of Outdoor Matters. He had full charge of the fruit and vegetable garden on his father's ground, and it flourished under his care. But not content with that, he had his own lot and he undertook to cultivate upon shares, plowed up, then sewed them with corn, potatoes, and melons. He had his mother's talent for system, and, making the best use of every spare moment and early riser, industrious, energetic, and painstaking, he managed to do all this without neglecting the studies in preparation for college, which he was still pursuing with Mr. Lord. He even found time for setting out trees and shrubs, and digging up the flower beds in the front and doing all the hard work needed there, then giving them into the care of his mother and the older girls, who contrived to spare to the pleasing task an occasional half-hour morning and evening, finding an arrest from almost constant toil with the needle. Cheerfully busy as Mildred was from morning to night, Charlie was seldom absent from her thoughts. She followed him in imagination through all his wanderings, the unbidden tears often springing to her eyes, as she dwelt upon the loneliness and hardships doubtless called to endure. Her only comfort that she might constantly plead for him with that almighty friend who knew it all and was ever near to both herself and her loved one. She hoped she prayed that Charlie might be restored to her, with the barrier to their union removed. But most of all that whether she should ever see him again on earth or not, he might inherit eternal life. Her father and mother, Rupert and Zilla were the only members of the family who knew anything of the matter. The others never so much as suspected that their bright, kind, helpful, sympathizing sister Millie was burdened with the secret sorrow of care. Nor did she make confident of Claudina Chetwood, Lou Granger, Effie Prescott, though on intimate terms with all three. Effie's health had improved since the Keith's first made her acquaintance, but she was still feeble and often ailing. She was a girl of fine mind, very fond of reading, and very thankful to these good neighbors for their kindness in lending her books and periodicals. And she greatly enjoyed a chat with Mrs. Keith or Mildred, for which the borrowing and returning afforded frequent occasion. She came in one morning while they were hard at work over the pile of spring sewing. Good morning, ladies. Don't let me disturb you, she said, as Zilla dropped her work and rose hastily to hand a chair. I see you are very busy, and I came to ask if you would let me help. I should enjoy spending the morning chatting with you all, and might just as well work while I talk, and I have brought my thimble, taking it from her pocket as she spoke. That is a very kind offer, Miss Effie, and we will be glad to have you. Take you on easy chair and chat with us as long as you will, Mrs. Keith said with her pleasant smile, but that I think will be quite sufficient exertion after your walk. Yes, indeed. You must get quite enough of sewing at home, said Zilla. It takes so many, many stitches to make even one garment, and such lots of garments to clothe the family at all respectively. Yes, answered Effie in a sprightly tone, but I am fond of my needle, and can use it at good deal without injury. Mildred, I see you are working buttonholes, my special pride and delight. Won't you hand that waist to me and find something else to occupy your fingers? Do you like to make them? Asked Mildred in a tone of genuine surprise. It is my perfect detestation. Therefore, I find myself sorely tempted to accept your generous offer. Before Mildred's sentence was completed, the work had exchanged hands, Effie taking playfully forcible possession. My dear girl, you have a real genius for the business, Mildred explained presently. How rapidly and nicely you work them. Two done in less time than I should take for one, without doing it half so well. Effie's eyes sparkled. Generous praise, Mildred, she said, but you can well afford to allow me the credit of doing one little thing better than you do it. I daresay there may be many others in which you excel me. No, I don't believe there's any other, and oh, when I hear you play the piano I feel as if I'd give anything in the world if I could play even half as well. Would you like to take lessons? Shouldn't I, cried Effie with emphasis, but dear me, there's no use of thinking of it, as I'm not likely ever to have the chance. I'd rather give a music lesson any day than work buttonholes, remarked me, and oh, the quantities of them to be made in this family. Effie, why shouldn't we exchange work occasionally, an hour of instruction on the piano for an hour sewing? Don't you think it would do, mother? Capitally, if you are mutually satisfied. Effie's face was sparkling with delight. Oh, do you really mean it, she cried? Why, I'd gladly give two hours sewing for one music lesson, and I'm sure it would be worth it. No, said Mildred. I think not, considering what a swift and neat needle-woman you are. Not much worldly wisdom in either of you, I think, my dear girls, remarked Mrs. Keith with an amused smile. But there's a difficulty I had not thought of, said Effie. I have no piano to practice on. You shall have the use of mine. Thank you, I gladly accept your kind offer, if I may pay for that also with my needle. Effie spent the day with her friends, and before leaving had come an arrangement with Mildred, perfectly satisfactory to both, and taken her first lesson. Just at its close, before the two had left the piano, Claudina and Lou came in, and hearing what Mildred had undertaken earnestly begged that she would add them to her class. Father is very anxious for me to learn, said Claudina, and was wondering the other day if it would do to ask you to take me as a scholar. He said you could set your own price, he'd willingly pay it, but as you have no need to make money for yourself, he was afraid to propose it. Now, Millie dear, would you be offended? Of course, we should feel that you were doing us a favor, even though you let us pay for it. No, I don't feel it all offended, Mildred said, laughing and blushing, and I'd be glad to do anything my power to gratify you girls, or your fathers, but I really have it time. Then I suppose we'll have to give it up, remarked Lou with a sigh, but I do wish this town could afford a music teacher, for I set my heart on learning to play. When spring, house cleaning and sewing are done, you won't be so very busy, Millie, suggested Claudina. Yes, very nearly, if not quite as busy as now, for then I take up my governessing again. You're the best sister and daughter I ever heard of, was Claudina's comment. T was just over, and Mrs. Keith stepped out to the kitchen for a consultation with Celeste Cheann on the all-important subject of the morrow's breakfast returning to the sitting-room she found her three girls again plying their needles. Come, come, my dears, no more work tonight, she said. You, Zilla and Ada, may help me set everything to rights here, so that we can go on promptly in the morning. And Mildred Child, if you were not too tired, let your father have some music. It is restful and cheering to him after his day's work and worry the office. I'm never too tired to play for father or mother, Mildred said with a smile as she rose to do her mother's bidding. Don't wait to fold that. I'll do it, Zilla said, taking the work from her hand. And, mother, please go into the parlor and rest yourself in the big rocking chair and lead this clearing up to Ada and me. Yes, mother, please do, chimed in the younger girl. We a great deal rather, and you know we can just as well as not. Thank you, dears, then I will. What comforts and blessings you are to me, all three of you. Me too, mother, me and fan, asked little Anas, following her, standing beside her mother's chair with eager, upturned face and pleading eyes. Yes, indeed, darling. Mother wouldn't know how to do without her baby girl or her dear little fan, Mrs. Keith answered, lifting the one into her lap and drawing the other close to her side. For fan too had followed her in from the sitting room. I'm not of much use yet, mother, except to love you, she said, nestling closer. But I'm going to be some day, if I live. See, out of this handkerchief. And didn't I make nice bits of stitches, she asked, holding it up for inspection. Yes, indeed, darling. I can see that you have taken great pains. Why, I think, after a while I shall have no need to sew at all with so many other fingers to do the work. Go and show it to father. Fan obeyed, was praised, caressed and taken upon her father's knee, where she sat in quiet content listening to Mildred's music. Presently, Squire Chetwood was ushered in by Celestia Anne. Go on, Miss Mildred, he said as he took the seat Mr. Keith hasten to offer. There's no greater treat for me than your music, and my errand will keep for a bit. It proved, when told, one that rejoiced them all. It was to show to Mr. Keith a letter of acceptance from a gentleman teacher, with whom they had been corresponding with a view to securing his services as principal of a school which they were trying to establish in the town. It was to be for both sexes, and the woman's wife would take charge of the girl's department. I send four pupils, Zilla, Ada, Cyril and Dawns in Mr. Keith, thereby considerably lightening your labour's wife and Mildred's, I trust. The Squire cleared his throat, and then, Miss Mildred, I hardly dare go on lest you should think me presuming. But after exciting my curiosity you can hardly refuse to gratify it. Mildred returned playfully, though she knew very well what was coming. When the Squire went away, she had consented to take another music scholar, and the terms he offered were very liberal, she having declined to name a price for her services. Having accepted Claudina, you can hardly refuse Lou, her mother remarked, when the Squire had gone. No mother, and how little time I shall have left for helping you, side Mildred. Now, Milly, don't try to make yourself of so much importance, cried Zilla in a gaily bantering tone. Didn't mother do without you entirely and would suppose Ada and I were of no consequence where work is concerned. But she will be in school, child, not for the first four hours after we leave our beds in the morning, or the last four or five before we return to them at night. Besides an hour or more at noon added Ada, and if we can't do something to help mother in all that time we'll deserve to be called lazy girls. We shall do nicely, I'm sure, the mother said, with a pleased loving glance at each of three faces in turn. I think we can manage so that everything will be attended to, and no one of us overworked. I can easily hear fans and Anas's little lessons every day while sewing. Your five music scholars, Mildred, will occupy only ten hours a week of your time, while one of them will do an hour sewing for you every day, and the other two outsiders bring you in a nice little sum of pocket money. Why, it doesn't look so very laborious after all, Mildred said, brightening. In the end of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of Mildred and Elsie This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Kylie Goodfellow Mildred and Elsie by Martha Finley Chapter 13 What's thou from sorrow find a sweet relief or is thy heart oppressed with woes untold? Balm wouldst thou gather for corroding grief poor blessings round thee like a shower of gold. Carlos Wilcox Mildred's charity, beginning at home, did not end there. Very earnestly and persistently she strove to scatter blessings as a shower of gold wherever she went. To make every life that came in contact with hers at ever so small a point the better and brighter for that contact though it were by but a cheery word or smile. Do you say these are small matters scarcely worthy of attention? Ah, to each of us comes the divine command be pitiful, be courteous and the master set of the tithing of ment, anise and cumin while the way dear matters of the law were neglected. These ought ye to have done and not to leave the other undone. He that is faithful and that which is least is faithful also in much. It was so with Mildred, never considering herself off duty as a Christian soldier she was as ready to feed the hungry clothe the naked, teach the ignorant and nurse the sick as to bestow the kind word and pleasant smile that cost her nothing. Nothing? Ah, there were times of weariness and depression when even these trifles cost a heroic effort a determined setting aside of selfish inclination to moodiness or irritability or indulgence in a pleasing melancholy because one great earthly blessing was denied her. In this, her bright, cheerful mother always ready with the word of council and encouragement was a wonderful help. Indeed, by frequent precept and constant example, Mrs. Keith succeeded in making all her children to a greater or less degree, sunny-tempered and benevolent, kind and courteous. The Dorcas society connected with their church had no more active, efficient or liberal members than this good lady and her eldest daughter. In proportion to their ability, they gave freely of time, labor and money. They were, indeed, always found ready to every good work though they trusted not in their works for acceptance in the sight of God but only in the atoning blood and imputed righteousness of Christ. Followers of God as dear children theirs was a service of love and joy rendered not that they might be saved but because they were saved. Questions of doctrine and duty were freely discussed in the family circle. The children bringing them in all confidence to their parents for decision. The parents always appealing to the scriptures of the one infallible rule of faith and practice as they are in very truth. To the law and to the testimony, if they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them. For the commandment is a lamp and the law is light. One Sabbath, a returned missionary preached in the morning to Mr. Lord's congregation in the afternoon addressed to the assembly of the disciples of the town. The Keith's came home from the latter service very full of what they had heard of the sad condition of the heathen world, the need of the money to carry on the work of evangelizing them, and the self-denying effort some of God's children, both the old and young, were making to earn and save that they might be able to give to this good cause. Cyril had been especially interested in the story of a little boy who had raised a pig, sold it and given to missions the whole of what he received I mean to have a missionary pig, Cyril said to Don as they walked home together, I'll take good care of it and feed it well so it will be very fat so that I can get ten dollars for it, and every cent of it shall go to the missionaries and I'll make more besides for them out of my garden and my chickens. So will I, said Don, but I shan't let him have all the money. How much then? I don't know yet. I'm afraid it won't do for all of us to have pigs, said Ada, overhearing the talk of her little brothers. No, Lafstila, we'd overstock the market and bring down the price. I don't see what I can do then except give some of my pocket money unless mother will pay me for doing without butter and tea and sugar as some of the children do that the missionary told about. That's too hard a way, said Cyril. You won't catch me trying that. I'll work for the heathen but I won't starve for them. It would be hard, but we ought to deny ourselves Ada returned half regretfully. Yes, in some things, Zilla said. I don't feel sure about this. We'll ask father and mother. They did so immediately on entering the house. Your mother and I have just been discussing that question, Mr. Keith said. And we think that as good, nourishing food is necessary to your health and growth, it is not a duty for you to deny yourself such common comforts as butter and sugar. There are other and better ways in which you can deny yourself denial. How, father, asked Ada, it might be by denying our love of ease working and earning for the good of others when we would rather be at play. The Bible speaks of laboring working with our hands that we may have to give to him that needed. And who more needy than the poor benighted heathen, sighed Mrs. Keith. It won't hurt us to deny ourselves in the matter of finery, remarked Mildred, or eating more than enough to satisfy our appetites just because it tastes like bread, Mildred Rupert. No, that is sinful in itself because injurious to health, said his father. But haven't we a right to eat what we please and just as much as we choose if we would rather be sick than do without the good things, father, asked Cyril? No, my son. Health is one of God's good gifts which we have no right to throw away. We can't serve him with a sick and suffering body so well as with a strong, healthy one. And we are told in proverbs, conquered and the glutton shall come to poverty. Father, does God want us to give all our money away to other folks, asked on? No, son, not at all. Our heavenly Father intends us to use some of it to supply our own needs. What proportion ought we to give, father? asked Rupert. I think that depends upon how large our means are. Is not a tenth the Bible rule, asked Mrs. Keith? Yes, God claims a tenth as His. It seems plain that everyone should give that, or more properly pay it to the Lord, and those who are able to do more add offerings and proportion to their ability. So I gather from this text in Malachi, third chapter and eighth verse, and opening a Bible Mr. Keith read aloud, will a man rob God? Yet ye have robbed me, but ye say, wherein have we robbed thee? in tithes and offerings. I thought that was the rule under the Levitical law, and that the New Testament rule was, give as God prospered you, said Rupert. Yes, we are to give as God has prospered us, one dollar out of every ten, one hundred out of every thousand, and so on. The beginning of the tithe paying was not in the time of Moses, but hundreds of years before, for we read that Abraham paid tithes, and that Jacob promised the Lord the tenth of all that he should give him. We know where read that Jesus abrogated this law. Indeed, he said, think not that I am come to destroy the law or the prophets. I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill, of the tithing of ment and rue in all manner of herbs that it ought not to be left undone. And God promises blessings, both temporal and spiritual, to those who faithfully obey this law of the tithes, bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, say at the Lord of Hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven and pour you out a blessing that there shall not be room left, and I will rebuke the devourer for your sakes, and he shall not destroy the fruits of your ground. Neither shall your vine cast your fruit before the time in the field, say at the Lord of Hosts. Honor the Lord with thy substance, and with the first fruits of all thine increase, so shall thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst out with new wine. Trust in the Lord and do good, so shall thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. There is that scattereth, and yet increases, that with holdeth more than his meat, but it tendeth to poverty. He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord, and that which he hath given will he pay him again. These are not all the texts bearing on the subject, but it will suffice for the present. Father, said Don, God doesn't need our money, does he? Why does he tell us to give it to him? For our own good, my son, don't you remember Jesus said, it is more blessed to give than to receive? He cannot be happy who indulges in mean, sordid disposition. The less selfish we are, the more ready to help others and share our good things with them. The happier and the more like our heavenly Father we shall be. Try it, my boy, and you will find it is so. And the more constantly we practice giving, the more we shall be in love with it. And then shall our gifts be pleasing to God, out of the mother. Every man, according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him live, not grudgingly or in need, for God loveth a cheerful giver, and God is able to make all grace abound toward you, that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work. While it seems, if we obey the Bible rule, we will give a tenth of our pocket money, and of all we can make beside, remarked Rupert. And I am very glad I can earn something by teaching music, said Mildred. I think you can each find some way of earning something for this good purpose, the mother said, glancing smilingly around the little group. Cyril told eagerly of his plan, dawn adding that he meant to have a missionary pig too, but not to give all that he made on it. You must decide for yourself whether to give more than a tenth of its price, his father said, but I think missionary pig will hardly be an appropriate name unless it is entirely devoted to the cause. Mother, said Fan, wouldn't it be nice for me to call one of my hens a nun, and give all the money I get for her and her eggs to the heathen? Yes, dear, I think it would be very nice, Mrs. Keith answered, with a loving glance into the earnest little face. Then I'll do it, and I hope she'll lay an egg every day. And I'll have a missionary hen, cried the little anus, clapping her hands with delight at the idea of contributing her might to the good cause. Aida and I haven't matured our plans yet, said Zilla, but we'll be sure to find some way to make money, as well as money. Mother will help us to contrive it, won't you, mother? Aida said with a look of confiding affection. The answer was a prompt and fatic, yes indeed, my dear, but Mr. Keith seemed to have something further to say, and all turned to listen. We want to give the missionary some money today or tomorrow to carry away with him. Who has any ready now? Cyrus countenance fell. He was a great spendthrift, and money slipped through his fingers almost as soon as it came into possession. My pocket money's all gone, he sighed, half allowed, half to himself, then nudging his younger brother. Don, you always have some, won't you lend me a little? No, said Mr. Keith. You were not to go into debt, even from a good motive. After this, set aside the Lord's tent of all your money as soon as it comes into your hands, and use that portion scrupulously for him in giving to the church and the poor. And, my son, I want you to form the habit of laying by little for your own future needs. You will be a poor man if you spend all your money as fast as you get it. I don't, remarked Don complacently. I save most all I get. Ah, yes, my boy, I know that, and often feel troubled about my youngest son, lest he should become a hard, grasping miserly man loving and hoarding money for its own sake. Do you know that that is as truly idolatry as the bowing down of the heathen to images of wood stone? Is it, Father? murmured the little lad, his face crimsoning and the tears starting to his eyes. It is indeed, Don, and so a worse fault than Sirewell's foolish spending, bad as that is. The Bible bids us mortify covetousness, which is idolatry. Try both of you to save in order to have to give to him that needeth, and to provide things honest in the sight of all men. We must first pay to the Lord his tent, then to our fellow men what we owe them. After that, give to the needy and what we feel able to spare from our store. Not pull down our barns and build greater, there to bestow our surplus goods, while we take our ease, eat, drink, and be merry, and neglect to relieve the distress and suffering of the poor and needy. Like the rich man in the Bible, said Fan, Father, was he a very bad man? Probably not what the world calls bad. We are not told that he was dishonest, drunken, or profane, but he was selfish and covetous, caring for the good things of this world and neglectful of eternal things, and selfishness as sin as well as covetousness. They seemed to go together and shut the soul out of heaven. The Bible says, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners shall inherit the kingdom of God. I thought coveting was wanting other people's things, remarked Ada. That is coveting, replied her father, and so is that inordinate love of gain, which leads men to drive hard bargains and to heap up riches at the expense of leaving those to suffer whom they are fully able to relieve. When the Lord gives us large sums, it is that, as his stewards, we may distribute to others. Well, Rupert, what is it? I have the money I had saved toward buying a piano. I will give a tenth of it now. That is well. Who else has anything for the missionary? I have a little bit of money on wealthy supplies, Mildred said. I wish I could give more now. I hope to when the money comes in for my music scholars, but that will not be for some time, you know. I have it much money, said fan, but maybe I can sell my eggs. I have a whole dozen. I'll give some of my money, said Don. And I, and I, said Zilla and Data. Mrs. Keith also promised something, and Mr. Keith added that he too would give, and they would sell and hand it to the missionary before his departure, which was to be the next afternoon. Father, is it right to pray for earthly prosperity, asked Rupert? That depends very much upon the motive. The apostle James says, you have not because you ask not. You ask and receive not because you ask amiss, that you may consume it upon your lusts. It is not the asking he condemns. He seems, indeed, to approve them for not asking, but the wrong motive is so doing. Let us compare Scripture with Scripture. The psalmist tells us, except the Lord built the house, they labor in vain that build it. Except the Lord keep the city, the watchman wakeeth but in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows, for so he giveth his beloved sleep. In Deuteronomy we are told, thou shalt remember the Lord thy God, for it is he that giveth thee power to get wealth. Evidently we obtain to worldly prosperity except by God's help, his blessing on our efforts. We may work for prosperity, and we may pray for it from either a right or a wrong motive. And certainly in either case we are approved or the contrary, according to the motive that actuates us. Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh in the heart. What would be a right motive, father? Asked Ada in her grave, earnest way. The desire to have the ability to provide things honest on the side of all men, to help on the Lord's cause, the work of the church, and to give to the poor and needy. Many desire wealth for their own ease and indulgence, for the consequence it gives them in the eyes of their fellow men, or as a means of gaining power over them. It cannot be right to pray for it from such motives. That is the sort of asking the apostle condemns. Mrs. Keith was turning over the leaves of the Bible. Let the Lord be magnified who hath pleasure in the prosperity of the servants, she read aloud. What the Lord takes pleasure in and what he promises upon conditions it cannot be wrong to ask for unless from a wrong motive, she remarked. And it is clear to my mind that if it be wrong to pray for prosperity it is also wrong to work for it. Certainly a Christian should never engage in anything upon which he cannot ask God's blessing. But we are commanded to be diligent in business, and told that the hand of the diligent maketh rich. Yes, said her husband, not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord. If we are careful not to divorce these two which God hath joined together we need not fear to ask his blessing on our labours. End of Chapter 13