THE GOOD SHEPHERD.
MOLLY had grown to look forward, to Sunday afternoons, for, true to
her promise, the vicar's daughter always called for the little girl
on her way to the Sunday-school, and the two were firm friends. Molly
learned slowly, indeed, but once she grasped an idea she retained it.
She had come to know that Jesus was her Saviour, and that He loved, and
watched over her. Praying was talking to Jesus, and she might tell Him
anything; she might speak to Him anywhere, and He would always hear and
understand. When she went to church, it was to sing His praises, and
join with others who loved Him in worshipping in His house of prayer.
So much had Marian Morris succeeded in teaching Molly, when the child
surprised her parents by repeating to them the message of the bells.
That same afternoon, as the little girl tripped along by Marian's side,
she continually chanted to herself—
"Will—you—come—and—sing—and—pra-ay?" in a monotonous undertone.
Till her companion remarked—"I did not see you at church this morning,
my dear."
"No, miss," the child answered. "Mother could not leave, 'cause of
baby."
"Who generally looks after baby when mother and you go to church?"
"Father, miss."
"That is kind of your father."
Molly nodded, and in a minute abruptly volunteered a startling piece of
information.
"Father was drunk last night," she said.
Marian was silent, grieved at the news; shocked that Molly should know
her father's weakness, and filled with pity for poor Mrs. Lethbridge.
"Mother cries when father gets drunk," the child continued, with a
somewhat wistful look on her pretty face; "and Jim is cross."
"I hear Jim is Mrs. Mugford's errand-boy, now," Marian interposed
hastily, feeling she could not discuss the father's sin and its
consequences with the child, and desiring to change the conversation;
"that is a very good thing for him, I should think."
"He carries big baskets," Molly said, eagerly; "such big baskets! And
Mrs. Mugford gives him pennies—lots of pennies!"
"I expect Jim works hard for his pennies, and well deserves them, my
dear."
"Jim will soon be a man," the little girl remarked, quaintly repeating
a remark she had heard from her mother's lips.
Marian, as she thought of Jim, and his short life of eleven years,
laughed.
Meeting the blue eyes of her little companion at that moment, she
wondered if Molly's smile was really less weak and vacant than usual,
or if she was merely becoming accustomed to the expression. Although
Mrs. Lethbridge had intimated that Molly was not right in her mind,
the vicar's daughter had come to the conclusion that she had more
understanding than she was accredited with. Slow and backward she
undoubtedly was; shy at first with strangers, and reserved with other
children. To teach her anything one had first to win her heart, and
appeal to her affections, for all learning was laborious to her, and
fraught with great difficulty. But she would do anything for one she
loved, and for Marian Morris, Molly did her best. The vicar's daughter
was often surprised to find how much the child was learning, and thus
encouraged, she exerted herself still more to teach her.
After the children had all gone to Sunday-school that same afternoon,
and Mrs. Lethbridge had washed up the dinner things, she sat down by
the open window to take a little rest. Opposite, her husband was asleep
in his chair, and as her eyes rested on his face, she could not help
noticing the marks that his drinking habits were leaving on his once
good-looking countenance. For nearly an hour she sat thus, brooding
over the difficulties of her life; but presently her thoughts turned to
her children. They were such obedient, good children, and she had great
hopes for them—even for little Molly! The dear child had improved so
much of late!
By-and-bye, James Lethbridge awoke, and looked surprised to see his
wife seated quietly at the other side of the window.
"Why, Jenny," he said, "it's not often I see you idle, even on a
Sunday!"
"I was thinking, James," she answered. "I wonder if you have noticed
how our little maid has altered—and for the better, too! I think it's
Miss Morris' doing; she's been doing her utmost to teach her, I know. I
do think the child is sharper than she used to be."
"Perhaps she is; but I haven't been noticing her much. You know I never
would allow that she wasn't all right."
"No, but you know she's not quite like other children of her age.
Weren't you struck by what she said about the bells this morning? I
was. It set me thinking, James, and looking back on our courting days,
when we used to go to church regular."
The husband made no response, only cast a surprised look at his wife.
But at that moment Miss Morris was saying good-bye to Molly outside the
door, and the brief conversation was at an end.
Molly came in with glowing cheeks and shining eyes. She ran up to her
mother, and kissed her pale, tired face.
"Haven't you a kiss for your poor old father, too, Molly?"
The little girl turned towards him, and, springing upon his knee, put
her arms around his neck with a loving embrace.
"And what have you been learning at Sunday-school to-day, my dear?" her
mother enquired.
"About the Good Shepherd," Molly answered promptly.
"Tell us about Him, dearie."
Molly sat on her father's knee, with his arm around her, whilst she
tried to collect her thoughts. It was an effort, and for a moment her
face was clouded, then a glimmer of brightness drove away the gloom.
"He is the King of love," she said, nodding her head and smiling.
"Who?" Mrs. Lethbridge asked gently.
"The Good Shepherd—Jesus, you know. He had a lot of sheep, no one can
count how many; and He loved them very much. Some did as they were
told, and were good. But there was one—I think it was a lamb—because of
the picture."
Molly paused, glancing from one listener's face to the other, but
meeting her mother's encouraging smile, continued more fluently—
"There was one little lamb that wouldn't listen to the Good Shepherd,
and was very naughty, and was lost!"
A troubled look crossed the child's face; the ready tears welled up
into her blue eyes, but in a moment the shadow had fled again, and she
continued in quick, glad tones, "But Jesus found him at last, after a
long, long while, and brought him home quite safe—the naughty little
lamb! Father, did you ever hear about it all before?"
"Seems to me I have, Molly, years and years ago."
"Do you know how the Good Shepherd found the little lamb, father?"
"No, my dear, I don't."
"He went about calling the little lamb's name, and at last the little
lamb heard. I 'spect he came running when he heard the Good Shepherd's
voice. There's a picture of Jesus with the little lamb on His shoulder
in Mrs. Mugford's shop, father. That's how I know 'twas such a weeny,
weeny lamb."
"Is there?" said her father.
"Why, so there is, Molly," Mrs. Lethbridge said smiling. "I saw it in
the window yesterday."
"I 'spect it would cost a lot of pennies to buy it; wouldn't it,
mother?"
"I don't know, my dear. I daresay it would."
"I hope Mrs. Mugford will keep it there for a long, long time!"
"Why, my dear?" asked her mother.
"So that I can look at it every day."
"Bless me, child, what an idea!" her mother exclaimed. "Mrs. Mugford
will sell the picture as soon as she possibly can, you may depend upon
that. But there, look at it as much as you like, if it pleases you, and
I don't suppose Mrs. Mugford will mind your looking."
"No, she's a good soul," Mr. Lethbridge said in grateful tones; "and
she's so kind to Jim, too!"
"We sang such a pretty hymn this afternoon," Molly continued eagerly.
"That was about the Good Shepherd too."
"Couldn't you sing it to us now, Molly?" the mother asked.
"I can't remember all," with a shake of the golden head; "I only know a
little bit."
"Sing us the little bit, my dear. Your father and I would like to hear,
eh father?"
James Lethbridge assented readily; so Molly complied with their
request, her sweet, fresh voice singing the first verse of the hymn.
"The King of love my Shepherd is,
Whose goodness faileth never;
I nothing lack if I am his,
And He is mine for ever."
"I forget the rest, mother, but it's all about the Good Shepherd, and
I'm going to learn every word some day. Miss Morris is going to teach
me."
When Molly had gone upstairs to take off her hat, and put a pinafore
over her best frock, Mrs. Lethbridge turned eagerly to her husband.
"James," she said, in more hopeful tones than he had heard from her
lips for many a year, "don't you see now how the child is improving?"
He agreed with a short nod, but there was a look on his face that told
of unspeakable thankfulness, and she was satisfied.