Praying
I DON'T think I ever remember a more miserable day than it was after
Pixie was missing. Honey was inconsolable; the boys returned late at
night, tired out, and thoroughly disheartened at their unsuccessful
search; Fräulein and nurse were dissolved in tears, and both seemed
perfectly helpless to make any suggestions.
"He may have been picked up by some steamer or fishing-smack," I said,
trying to speak hopefully.
"I know he is drowned!" wailed Honey.
"And it will be your doing!" said Pat severely. "You left a baby in an
open boat, with the tide coming in around him; and when you found he
had disappeared you never troubled yourself, or told any one for a full
hour after!"
Honey was too miserable to defend herself. Pixie was the darling of us
all, and the boys were too alarmed to show any mercy. I tried to cheer
her up, and then was assailed with—
"Oh, do shut up with your 'hopes' and 'perhaps,' Li! Your grins are as
bad as Honey's snivels. I suppose you think a saint ought to show a
stony front at a time like this!"
[Illustration: "HERE I IS, AND A BIG FISH."]
"I'm not going to imagine the worst, to please you," I said stoutly;
"for I've been praying for Pixie ever since he was missing, and I
believe God will send him back to us again."
"Cant!" muttered Doodle-doo; but Honey whispered—
"If God answers your prayer, Li, I'll become a Christian, like you."
And then, about half-past ten, when Fräulein was urging us to go to
bed, and Pat had just returned from visiting the coastguard station on
the cliff, we heard a knock at the door, and a rush of small feet along
the passage.
"Hear I is, and a big fish for my supper! And Pixie saw a lot of fish
caught in a net!" He marched in amongst us, his hat on the back of
his head, hugging a slippery fish in his arms, which he deposited in
triumph on Fräulein's lap. A fisherman followed him in, and explained
that he had found him in the boat drifting out to sea, as we had
feared, and had taken him on board his smack.
"The coolest little chap I h'ever set eyes on! Said he was going to
touch the sky, and warn't half pleased at havin' to come back without
a-doin' it."
Pixie could not understand the reason for such hugs and embraces as he
received, and no one had the heart to scold him, until nurse said—
"And don't you think it was very naughty to go off in a boat like that,
and give us all such a fright?"
Pixie looked round on us serenely.
"The boat ran away hisself. Pixie only sat quite still and bumped up
and down."
"Weren't you frightened when you got out to sea?" asked Taters.
He shook his curly head. "O' course I wasn't. When the boat jumped up
and down very high, I asked Jesus to come in and sit by me; and I fink
he did. And I asked Jesus to take me frough the sky into heaven; but
this man broughted me back before I got there. And Pixie is very tired,
and he'll go to bed, and have the fish for his breakfus!"
Nurse carried him off, and we all followed his example; but before we
got into bed, I said to Honey—
"Don't you feel very thankful Pixie is safe?"
"I should think I did! It's like a mountain's weight off me!"
"Well, then, aren't you going to do what you said!"
Honey looked doubtfully at me. "Yes, I really will, but not to-night;
I'm too tired."
I lost patience with her. "You put off and off; and you'll never do
it! I hate such shilly-shallying! Why can't you make up your mind one
way or the other? Say downright you don't mean to change, instead of
pretending you want to, and never doing it! I'm sick of your saying
that 'by-and-by' you'll do it! If you don't take care, you'll put it
off till too late, and then where will you be? You're as weak as water!"
"Thank you!" said Honey placidly, though I could tell by her face she
was angry. "And you're a hypocrite if your temper can flare up over
nothing so!"
I dashed into bed, and worked off my indignation under the bedclothes.
A quarter of an hour later, thoroughly ashamed of myself, I sprang up
and went over to Honey's bed.
"I'm awfully sorry," I said penitently; "do forgive me! But you don't
know how I long for you to be as happy as I am; and I'm so afraid you
will never do it unless you make a start now. God has been so good in
preserving Pixie's life."
Honey was not demonstrative—none of us were—but she gave my arm a
squeeze.
"All right, Li! I don't really think you a hypocrite, but don't give me
up yet. I really will start soon, but not to-night; and I have thanked
God for sending Pixie back—I really have."
I crept back into bed a little comforted, and then I determined that
I would pray three or four times every day that Honey and Thunder
might become true Christians. "If God can answer one prayer, He will
another," I argued; "and I expect He would much rather have them
Christians than save Pixie from drowning; for I should think He would
be glad to have such a darling in heaven!"
And so I prayed, and waited, and wondered why God did not answer my
prayer sooner; for both Honey and Thunder seemed, in my eyes, to be as
far off as ever.
"A letter from your mother!" said Fräulein one morning. "And we home
shall go at once. The workmen have papered and washed the house, and
your father and mother are also returning quickly."
I seized hold of Doodle-doo and spun him round and round the table in
delight—
"Hurray! We've been here long enough. When shall we go? To-day?"
"I'll tell old Skim-milk, and see her face when she hears the news!"
And Doodle-doo rushed from the room to break the tidings to our
landlady, whom we had nicknamed "Skim-milk" from the poverty of that
article when brought to our table.
[Illustration: "THE HOUSE OF THE FATTEST OLD FURY THAT EVER LIVED
ON THE BEST TITBITS OF HER LODGERS!"]
He returned chuckling.
"What did she say?" we demanded.
"She tossed up the tip of her nose. 'A blessed thing for me, afore my
carpets get wored to rags, and my paint scratched off, and my house
gets the name in the Terrace of containin' the vulgarest, noisiest,
impertinentest set of children, big enough to know better!'"
"And what did you say?"
"I was very solemn. 'Do you know what name your house has got? The
house of the fattest old fury that ever lived on the best titbits
of her lodgers, and pried into their pockets and drawers for odd
halfpence!' Then she looked round for a broomstick, and I walked off!"