"Hasn't she been to you? Then perhaps it is all right. I'll never try to
find a wife for you again. Miss Falkner says wives can't be found like
we thought, and she says God is the only one that can find one for you."
Mr. Arnold looked perfectly coolly into Miss
Falkner's face.
"Thank you," he said. "I believe in that too. My little friends were too
anxious on my behalf. And as to Miss Grant, I wish her a more suitable
partner than myself, Jill. Is your sister in? I want to ask her about
a parish matter."
He left them, and crossed the pine wood to reach the house, but he never
got there, for he saw Mona leaning against the new wooden fence looking
with dreamy, wistful eyes at the children's "Bethel," and he went straight
to her.
The scent of the pines, the pale blue sky behind them, and the quiet
sacredness of the spot rested and soothed Mona's soul. She turned at
the sound of his footsteps, but never changed her position; when he
looked into her face he found her eyes were full of tears.
"I come here when life is difficult," she said, trying to speak lightly.
"I have been thinking over Christ's words, 'How hardly shall they that
have riches enter into the kingdom of God.' I long sometimes to ease
myself of the burden and responsibility of my money, by casting it to
the winds. Can you advise me? I want to be a faithful steward. What
shall I do?"
Cecil Arnold's opportunity had come.
It was some days before the children knew the result of that
interview. They were all three tidying up their "Bethel," which Miss
Webb said now reminded her of a small church-yard, when they saw their
sister and Mr. Arnold slowly approach them.
They were close to the fence before they noticed the children, then Mona
started, a rich colour came into her cheeks and she tried to withdraw
her hand from Mr. Arnold's arm. He held it fast, and said to her with
a twinkle in his eye--
"Allow me to receive my congratulations. I must enlighten them."
"Two trespassers again, Jill!" he called out. "May we come inside
your gate?"
"Yes," said Jill, stopping in her feat of brushing dead leaves away;
"you and Mona aren't trespassers, for you belong to our Tenth Society,
and you don't laugh at our 'Bethel.'"
"Laugh at it?" said Mona tremulously. "I shall bless it all my days!"
Then Mr. Arnold spoke, and his voice was hushed and reverent, though
there was a glad light in his eye.
"I thought you children would like to know whom God has graciously given
to me as a wife."
"Why it's Mona!"
Surprise and delight were in the children's faces.
Jill exclaimed--"I never should have thought of Mona. She doesn't seem
like a clergyman's wife, but it's awfully nice."
"Why don't I please you?" Mona asked. "Not good enough, I know."
"Well, I think you're too smiling and--and too young."
Mr. Arnold laughed.
"And I am too old and grave. But, Jill, as a boy and girl we promised
to marry each other, so we are only keeping our promise."
"Why have you been so long before you did it?" asked Jill with interest.
That question remained unanswered.
Jack and Jill were full of excitement and curiosity. Bumps was the only
one who seemed disappointed.
"We can't never find a wife for him now, he hath found hithelf one!" she
lamented.
She and Jill were standing by their lodge gate next day when they saw
Miss Grant coming along. For one moment Jill thought of flight, then
she bravely stood her ground. They had been bowling their hoops along,
and were a little breathless with their run. Miss Grant looked at them
severely, then came across the road to them.
"Jill," she said, "what do you mean by writing me such a letter? Who told
you to do it? I am surprised that a little girl of your age should act
so forwardly!"
Jill got crimson at once.
"It was all a mistake, please," she said, "and I'm sorry you got it. We
were trying hard to find Mr. Arnold a wife."
"Who put you up to it?" demanded Miss Grant. "I consider it a grave
insult, and I was thinking of seeing your sister about the matter. She
and your governess don't know how to keep you in order."
"No one put me up to it," replied Jill eagerly. "I made a mistake,
and it's a good thing you didn't go to him. Please forget it."
"Yeth," put in Bumps with an emphatic nod of the head, "he didn't want
you after all, becauth he has got Mona."
Miss Grant beat a hasty retreat. She never mentioned the subject again.
On the following Sunday Jill went to the vestry to hand in her bag. She
had not been the only one who had responded to the vicar's invitation,
for several of the villagers had appeared, and though their offerings
were small, they were willing ones. She stood waiting whilst the
village shopkeeper and a farmer's wife were taking their tenth out of
their well-worn purses. Then a voice behind her startled her. It was
Sam's father.
"Eh, Miss Jill, here I be after you and your bag agen!"
"Oh, Mr. Stone, what have you got? I'm so glad you haven't given up!"
"I did have a mind to, as 'ee knows, but parson here do seem so set on
it that I've been lookin' through some savin's o' mine."
Mr. Arnold said good-night to the two women, and turned to the old man.
"Are you bringing your money to me, Stone?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, sir, that I be--'ee do talk so convinceable that I be quite worried
till I have done it."
"You must take it back again. I am only here to take my Master's money."
Old Mr. Stone rubbed his head.
"I see yer meanin'. In course I bring it to the A'mighty. 'Twas a mere
mistake in speech."
The old man counted out of a canvas bag, to the astonishment of Jill
and his vicar, five pounds in silver.