"How has your walk been to-day, Jill? A few stumbles, I am afraid."
"Yes," whispered Jill. "I've told God I was sorry, only I was what the
Bible calls 'righteously angry.' I would like to have called down fire
from heaven upon those men. I told Mona so."
"But Jill, that was not 'righteous' at all. The men made a mistake. You
should have spoken gently to them."
"No," said Jill, "they meant to do it, and they laughed at it, and I
believe Sam's father is as bad. Since his cabbages are gone, he won't
pay up his tenth, and he says we have a heathen altar!"
Jill's cheeks began to get hot and red. Miss Falkner stooped down and
kissed her.
"If your Bethel is going to make you get angry--if it makes you trip and
stumble on your way to the Golden City, it had better be destroyed at
once."
Jill looked up with big eyes.
"Oh, Miss Falkner! How can you?"
"You mustn't make an idol of it, Jill, or you will be the heathen. You
grieve Jesus Christ by your hot temper. Perhaps you think more of your
'Bethel' than you do of Him!"
"I'm afraid I did to-day," acknowledged Jill with shame.
Then when her governess had left her, she put down her hot cheek upon the
pillow, and murmured, "I'm afraid it wasn't 'righteous' anger after all."
The Christmas holidays came and went. Mona was much more with her little
brother and sisters in Miss Falkner's absence. Every morning she came
into the school-room, and had the Bible-reading with them. They got
into many scrapes in their leisure moments, but on the whole were far
better behaved than formerly. In the beginning of the New Year the
"Bethel Mission-room" was opened. Perhaps to the inhabitants of Chilton
Common it lacked a little of the excitement and gaiety with which it had
been painted by Jack and Jill; but it was a very enjoyable day to all,
and a sit-down tea was given to young and old, at which, of course, Jill
was very much to the fore.
Mr. Errington left very soon afterwards, and for two months his successor
was not known.
Then one afternoon, when the children were roasting chestnuts over the
school-room fire, and Miss Falkner was writing a letter to her mother,
Mona appeared at the door.
"I want to introduce our new vicar," she said very quietly.
The children jumped up from the hearth-rug in the greatest state of
excitement.
"Why!" exclaimed Jill, as a tall broad-shouldered figure followed their
sister into the room, "it's the trespasser!"
"Yes, I am afraid it is," said Mr. Arnold in his deep and hearty
voice. "But we parted friends, did we not?"
"I should think we did just! Why we would rather have you as our clergyman
than any one else in the whole world!"
"Come! That's satisfactory. I did not think I would have so warm
a welcome!"
"Do you like chestnuts?" asked Jack, holding out a charred one between
two grubby fingers.
"Don't I?"
In a moment Mr. Arnold was down on the rug like a school-boy, and the
children's tongues went fast. Mona looked on smiling; then she said to
Miss Falkner--
"What is the fascination of roasting chestnuts, I wonder. Why do all
children love it so? You burn your fingers and the chestnuts, eat more
ashes than anything else, and scorch your face to pieces!"
"I think it is the love of cooking them," said Miss Falkner.
"It is the danger and difficulty surrounding the undertaking," said
Mr. Arnold, rescuing two chestnuts that had rolled over into the
fire. "Difficulties stimulate children, they do not deter them."
"I wish," said Mona thoughtfully, "they always stimulated me."
Mr. Arnold looked at her, but Jill broke in impetuously.
"Do you know about the Bethel Mission-room, Mr. Arnold? Will you go
there on Sunday and preach to the people?"
He nodded.
"Yes, I have heard all about it from Mr. Errington, also about a certain
red bag."
"Ah!" exclaimed Jack; "Jill has hidden that bag away somewhere since
Mr. Errington went. I say it isn't fair, and Bumps and I aren't going to
give her any more money till she tells us where it is."
"Yeth," echoed Bumps, "and we've looked everywhere, and Jill says,
she won't give it to another clergyman unleth he is nith!"
"Am I nice?" asked Mr. Arnold, with one of his sudden smiles.
Jill looked at him gravely.
"I will bring it to you every Saturday," she said, "even if there's only
a few half-pennies. But Sam gives us two shillings, and Annie threepence,
and Norah and Rose give us some when we see them, so sometimes we have
quite a lot. Only you'll tell us what you're going to do with it,
won't you?"
"Indeed, I will. We will have a long talk about it."
"And how are all your boys and girls?" asked Jill.
Mr. Arnold's face shadowed instantly. He was looking ill and careworn;
it was only in talking to the children that his face lightened up.
"Ah," he said; "my poor people! Don't remind me of them. Nothing but
the doctor's orders would have made me leave them."