JIM GETS WORK.
IT had been March when the Lethbridge family arrived at Rose Cottage.
And by the time the June roses bloomed around its walls, the villagers
had lost all curiosity about the new-comers, for the simple reason that
they knew all there was to know about them. The mother was a quiet,
hardworking woman everyone agreed, and did the best she possibly could
for her home; whereas the father was a drinker, and it was a wonder,
everyone said, that Mr. Talbot retained him in his service. Then people
began to whisper that James Lethbridge did a little night poaching by
setting wires for rabbits—but that was only a whisper as yet.
Scantily clothed and fed though they were, the Lethbridge children
flourished. The boys were nice little fellows, and when Mrs. Mugford
engaged Jim to deliver her customers' purchases out of school hours,
everyone said his good fortune was no more than he deserved.
With what pleasure the boy presented his mother with his first week's
earnings, and with what pride she received the money!
"Why, Jim," she said, quite brightly, a happy smile lighting up her
thin, worn face, "you'll soon be a man. Fancy you able to help me like
this!"
"When I'm a man, mother," the boy answered fondly, "I'll work for you
so that you won't need to slave like you do now. I mean to save my
money, and grow rich. It must be grand to be rich, I think."
"Money doesn't always bring happiness, Jim. When I was in service
as a girl, I lived with some very rich people, and they were most
miserable—never helped others, or gave to the poor. Of course, all rich
folks ain't like that."
"Miss Morris, for instance, mother?"
"Oh, I don't think she's at all well off, Jim. I've heard tell that the
vicar has as much as he can do to make both ends meet."
"Why, mother, I thought he must be rich! And Miss Morris somehow looks
rich, don't you think?"
Mrs. Lethbridge smiled at her little son's astonishment, and, after a
few moment's thought, she said—
"Well, Jim, perhaps you're right in one way. I think, somehow, Miss
Morris does look rich, and I'll tell you why I believe it is. She is
rich in love, for where is there one in the parish who doesn't bless
her for her sweet ways, and love her dearly? I think she's one of
those the vicar preached about last Sunday, who lay up for themselves
treasures in heaven, and that's what gives her that happy, contented
look that makes one think she's got everything she wants."
"Maybe that's it," Jim agreed.
The other children had gone to bed, and Mrs. Lethbridge and her elder
son were alone. They had their frugal supper, and, glancing at the
clock, the mother saw it was nearly ten.
"I think you had better go to bed, my boy," she remarked, "for you must
be very tired, I know."
"Shan't I wait up with you till father comes, mother?"
"No; it will be more than an hour before then. He is sure to be late,"
she added with a sigh.
"It's a shame," Jim grumbled, "that father should keep you waiting for
him like this, when he's only amusing himself at the 'White Hart,' and
he'll stay there till they turn him out at eleven o'clock. He's always
the last to go. Do let me sit up with you for company, mother."
"No, Jim," with decision in her tones, "I shall be a great deal happier
to know you're in bed resting. Remember, one hour's sleep before
twelve, is better than two after, and boys like you should have long
nights."
"Ain't you very tired, mother?"
"Well, a little, my dear. Kiss me now, like a good lad, and be off to
bed."
Jim complied, somewhat reluctantly, and then stole softly upstairs, so
as not to awaken the sleeping children, and into the little room he
shared with his brother.
He really was more tired than he had ever been in his short life
before. He was but a small boy, and Mrs. Mugford's baskets of groceries
and other commodities had weighed heavily. His arms and shoulders
ached, but there was an exultant feeling in his brave young heart that
he had had his start in life, and that he must work hard to help his
mother. He was not long undressing, then he knelt down by the side of
his bed to say his prayers, to ask God to bless all those he loved, and
make him a good boy. He could hardly keep his eyes open, and scarcely a
moment after his head touched the pillow, he was asleep.
The next morning he awoke rather later than usual, to find his brother
had already arisen. His arms were stiff, and he felt still tired,
but after a good wash, he was considerably refreshed, and, quickly
dressing, went downstairs.
Breakfast was ready, and the children gathered around the table to
partake of weak tea, and bread and dripping. Mrs. Lethbridge looked
heavy-eyed, and was somewhat silent, but the boys were in excellent
spirits, and kept the conversation going, whilst Molly, smiling as
usual, put in a word now and again in her hesitating fashion. The
father had not appeared; and the children knew well enough that he was
upstairs, sleeping off the effects of last night's dissipation, and
asked no questions.
The boys were the only inmates of Rose Cottage who went to church that
Sunday morning, so whilst the sweet church bells were ringing their
invitation to come and worship and praise God in His house of prayer,
Molly took the baby in her arms, and seated herself on the doorstep
in the warm June sunshine. She made a pretty picture, her fair face
bent over her infant brother; and the roses that twined around the
porch formed a lovely setting of colour, and filled the air with the
fragrance of their scent.
At first baby was lively, and his sister played with him, but presently
he became drowsy, and lay quietly with his blue eyes staring up at the
roses. People passing nodded at Molly, and she nodded back at them.
Presently she heard her father's heavy footsteps on the stairs, and
he came and placed a chair just inside the open door and sat down. He
would be at home all day, for it was so arranged by Mr. Talbot that
he should have every alternate Sunday free from work at the Hall, and
this was one of the Sundays on which he was his own master, to do as he
pleased.
"Well, Molly," he said, with a yawn, "don't you find it too hot out
there in the sunshine?"
"Oh, no, father."
"How my head does ache, to be sure," he continued; "the sound of those
bells makes it worse!"
Molly was silent for a moment, then she said:
"Do you know what they say, father?"
"They don't say anything, child, but just keep on that incessant
chiming."
"Oh, yes, they do!" the child insisted. "Miss Morris told me what they
said."
"What is it, dearie?" her mother asked, coming to the door, and taking
the baby out of Molly's arms as she spoke. "Is it the bells you're
speaking of?"
"Yes, mother; don't you hear what they are saying?"
Mrs. Lethbridge listened a moment, to satisfy the child, and shook her
head.
"Father, don't you hear?" appealing to him again.
"No, I'm sure I don't!" he said, laughing.
Molly lifted up her finger, and with her head on one side, as
though the better to hear the chiming of the bells, she chanted:
"Will—you—come—and—sing—and—pra-ay!" softly, several times, her voice
rising and falling with the notes of the bells. "Mother, don't you hear
it now?"
Husband and wife glanced at each other quickly, and the latter made
answer: "Yes, Molly, I think I do."