The rain was pattering, pattering steadily upon the roof of a little
brown cottage that stood alone by the country roadside.
There had been a long and dreary winter, and now the bright spring was
coming, with its buds and leaves and flowers, to gladden the earth, that
had all the time seemed to be dead.
As the shower came down, the little green blades of grass sprang up to
catch the drops; and they seemed almost to laugh and sing, so full of joy
were they when they could lift their heads from the dust.
It was so much sweeter to be out once more from their prison-house and to
exult with all God's fair creation; so they bathed themselves in the
falling shower, and made themselves fresh and clean; and nobody would
ever have believed that they came out from their dark beds in the earth.
Little Alice looked out of the windows of the brown cottage, and saw them
nodding gaily to her as they were taking their bath; and so she smiled
back again, and talked to them from her perch in the window-seat as if
they were brothers and sisters, with eyes and ears to see and hear, and
hearts to return her love. Indeed, there was no one else to whom she
could talk the livelong day. No father, for he was dead; no living
brothers and sisters; no mother at home, for they were very poor, and her
mother must be gone at early dawn to labour for their food and clothing
and shelter;--and so Alice had to make companions of the blades of grass
that nodded at her through the drops.
"Oh, you beauties!" said she gladly; "and I know who made you, too, and
what a great, good God he is to send you here--bright little creatures
that you are. How pleasant it will be down by the brook-side when the
sun comes out, and you and I and the blue violets and the dandelions have
our visiting-time together! Never a little girl had such joy as I have!"
And Alice put her face close to the pane, and looked up into the sky to
thank her kind heavenly Father for sending her such blessings. It seemed
as if she could see him bending graciously down towards her, as her
Sunday-school teacher had often represented him to her; and then she
thought of Him who was upon the earth, and who took up little children in
his arms and blessed them; and she put out her hands towards the heavens,
saying earnestly, "Me, too, dear Saviour: bless me too!"
So absorbed was she that she didn't hear anybody enter the room until a
timid voice said,--
"Who were you speaking to, Alice?"
There was such a woful figure by the door as she turned her head--no
bonnet, no shoes, and a tattered frock, all draggled with dirt and rain,
and the long, uncombed locks straggling about the child's shoulders, and
such a blue, pinched look in the thin face!
"Oh, it's you, Maddie, is it?" said Alice, jumping from the window and
taking the hand of the new-comer. "But it was a pity to get so wet. I'm
glad you've come. We'll keep house together till it clears away, and
then maybe we'll have a nice walk. First we must dry your clothes,
though." And she put some sticks in the fireplace, and putting a match
to them, stationed Maddie before the blaze, while she held the skirt out
to dry.
"Isn't it pleasant here?" asked Alice, with a beaming smile.
Maddie looked around, with a half shrug, upon the cheerless room, with
its bit of a table and the one chair and the low, curtainless window, and
then her eyes fell upon the scantily-clad little girl by her side; and
then she shivered, as the dampness of her clothes sent a creeping chill
through her frame; but she didn't say it was pleasant.
"Aren't you afraid to stay here so much alone, Alice?" she asked, giving
another glance about the room.
"But I never stay _alone_, Maddie!" answered the dear child. "I have
plenty of company--'Tabby,' and the flies, and now and then a spider, and
everything that goes by the door, and the clouds and the sunshine and the
leaves and the--oh dear! so many things, Maddie, that I can't begin to
tell you." And she stopped short for want of breath.
"And somebody you were talking to. Who was that?" asked Maddie.
"Ah, yes, best of all! Don't you know, Maddie?" said Alice, sinking her
voice to a whisper, and gazing earnestly at her young companion. "Miss
Mason told me how He is everywhere, and sees and hears us, and that he
loves us better than our mother or father can do, and watches over us and
keeps us from all harm. If you go to the school with me you'll learn all
about it, Maddie dear. No, no; I'm never _alone_ though mother _is gone_
all the long day."
"Do you _see_ Him, Alice?" asked Maddie earnestly.
"Not as I see _you_, Maddie," returned her companion with reverence; "but
when I look up into the sky, and sometimes when I sit here by myself and
speak things that I have learned from my Bible, I seem to feel some
strange brightness all above and around me; and it's so real to me that
it's just like seeing with these eyes. Miss Mason says 'it's my soul
that sees.' Whatever it is, it's very beautiful, Maddie." And Alice
clasped her hands in a sort of ecstasy, and drew near to the window to
look up once more into the heavens, whither her eyes and her heart so
continually turned.