IMPROVEMENTS.
Widow Murdoch now gave more time and attention to her children. The
youngest had not yet been named, but had always been called "the wee
lass." Now that more notice was taken of her, she began to smile and
play.
"It is time this bairn had a name, Wullie," said Jeannie one evening
when the baby was lying on her lap. "What would ye think o' callin' her
Annie? It would be for Rab's mither, and it is a bonny name forbye."
"That I would like right weel."
So this important matter was happily decided, and Annie was the little
one's name.
Spring brought warm, bright days, Jamie and Belle played at the cottage
door, their innocent prattle often beguiling their mother's sad hours.
Honest Wullie was not long in paying by his labor the debt which he had
contracted, and he felt glad that his accounts were again even. Farmer
Lindsay let him have a small piece of ground near the cottage to be made
into a garden. This was to be the joint care of Wullie, Jeannie, and
Jamie, for "Jamie is auld eneuch noo to pu' the weeds frae the beds,"
said his uncle.
But with all the work to do that one could easily accomplish, widow
Murdoch often felt lonely. She had been three years in honest Wullie's
cottage, but she had made very few acquaintances. Mrs. Lindsay never
came into the cottage except in time of sickness. Mrs. McPherson, like
herself, had hitherto been kept closely at home by care and poverty, and
there had been no intercourse between the two women. At this time,
however, they were brought together.
Donald was the first to propose a visit. One pleasant evening in the
early summer, when Katy had just finished the first dress that Donald
had ever bought for her, he surprised her by saying, "Mak yoursel ready,
Katy, and gang wi' me to honest Wullie's; then ye will become acquent
wi' widow Murdoch. She is but poor, like yoursel, and I am thinking she
maun be lanely. At ony rate, it is but neeborly to call and see her."
Mrs. McPherson readily assented. She put a clean cap and dress on the
baby, and arrayed herself in her new gown. Donald combed his hair until
it was smooth, and put on his best coat.
"Katy, ye look as fine the night as a leddy," said Donald as they were
ready to start; "but ye aye did keep yoursel tidy, though ye hae na had
muckle to do wi'. There is muckle difference in folk. Some people's
claes fit them, while other people's claes seem to hing on them. Mrs.
Murdoch is like yoursel. She has a way o' makin' the maist o' ilka
thing. It wasna muckle she brought to Wullie's cottage, but ye s'ould
hae seen the difference she made in the looks o' it."
The two soon found themselves at honest Wullie's cottage, where they met
a kind reception and spent a pleasant evening. The conversation often
turned on moral and religious topics, as would necessarily be the case
where honest Wullie took part.
Donald was full of new hopes and courage.
"Wullie, ye s'ould come and see hoo nicely we are getting alang," said
he. "We hae eneuch to eat and drink, and some new claes for Sunday
forbye. Katy, there, thinks I am quite a man noo."
"I always thought ye would do weel eneuch if ye would let whiskey
alane."
"I will let it alane frae this oot, or I dinna ken mysel."
"Donald, ye dinna depend a'thegither on yoursel, I hope," said Wullie.
"Nae, Wullie, I ken better than that; but I hae changed my purpose, and
I hae asked help o' the Strang Ane. That is what Katy said I must do.
Puir lass! I am sure she has kenned the comfort o' gaen to him mony
times when sairly tried wi' me."
"It is gude to go to the Lord in times o' trial," said Wullie; "and it
is gude to go to him wi' thankful hearts when the trials are o'erpast. I
hae nae doot, Mistress McPherson, but that ye find it baith pleasant and
profitable to come wi' your heart full o' gratitude and praise to him
wha has heard your prayers."
"Ay, I like weel to acknowledge his gudeness to me in saving Donald frae
the evil that threatened him; but it grieves me noo to think I had sae
nearly distrusted Him because He didna answer my prayers at ance. Mony a
time did I a'maist feel that there is nae gude in prayer, and that God
wouldna hear a puir body like me. But I dinna think he has set it doun
against me, sin' he has answered my prayer. Besides, he kens I was but a
weak woman, and sairly tried forbye."
Tears filled Jeannie's eyes. Katy's experience had been her own. And
although it recalled her trials, to which she would not allude, because
we instinctively cover the faults and follies of our dear dead, she
felt, nevertheless, drawn towards Katy. Both had had trials, but not
more than they were able to bear; and the discipline of an all-wise
Father had chastened and strengthened them both.
"We a' hae cause for thankfulness ilka day o' oor lives," Wullie
hastened to say, as he perceived Jeannie's emotion. "Let nane o' us be
remiss in the duty o' prayer and thanksgiving."
This visit proved the precursor of many others, and the two women became
good friends. Wullie strengthened Jeannie's good impressions of Katy
McPherson.
"She was aye a canny lass," he said. "Folk wondered that she wedded wi'
sic a giddy chiel as Donald was; but if he sticks to his ward noo, he
will mak a gude living for her, for he can wark weel when he sets himsel
to it, and naebody can ootstrip him in the harvest-field."
Donald soon learned to go to honest Wullie for advice, and he was as
anxious to meet him as he had been to avoid him. He seemed changed in
many ways. His new hope and trust had lifted him above that frivolity
which had always been so prominent a characteristic of his. He found the
influence of his wife much more elevating than that of his boon
companions, and he said to her, "Ye s'all see what a man can be made oot
o' me, frolickin' as I hae been. I would na wonder if folk s'ould yet
ca' me 'douce Donald.'"
Wullie's garden proved a success, and the fresh, tender vegetables
added much to the frugal fare. Then, as Donald had said, Jeannie made
the most of everything. Her skill in cooking also added to their
comfort. Her neat, orderly ways were everywhere apparent. It was a
pretty sight to see the three rosy children, with clean hands and faces,
clean pinafores, and carefully combed hair, gathered at the family
board, Annie seated on her mother's knee, the others on their stools.
They were trained to be obedient and respectful, to keep the Sabbath
with due strictness, and, above all, to fear and honor God. Thus not
only shadows, but sunshine, too, rested on the little moorland cottage.
Peace and harmony reigned in the household, and signs of thrift were
also apparent. Wullie could now sometimes allow himself the pleasure of
bringing little gifts to the children, and their childish delight hardly
surpassed his own.
Jeannie did not forget to thank God for the blessings she enjoyed. And
although the recollection of the early death of her husband often
brought sorrow to her heart and a shade of sadness to her countenance,
the sorrow was softened by the cherished hope of his eternal happiness
and a future reunion. Thus passed two years more, but these were years
of comparative comfort.