"Fifty pun have I laid by for death and burial, and the rest to Sam,
but never a penny have I laid by for the God that brought me into the
world, and that be soon going to take me out. The little lass hammered
away till I gave her my cabbages, then I said 'No more,' for I kep'
thinkin' o' these savin's, that no mortal body do know on. But, parson,
your words be hot and uncomfortable, and las' night I lay thinkin' o'
this here vestry an' Miss Jill's red bag. 'Twasn't the sermon, nor yet
the bag, nor you and Miss Jill put together, but 'twas God that spoked
to me in the night.
"'I have loved 'ee,' He kep' sayin', 'I have loved 'ee, Tummas, I have
loved 'ee.' An' then came that there tex' 'ee preached on last Sunday,
'Lovest thou Me?' and I were fair broken down. I knowed what the Lord
did want. The tenth o' my savin's! And bless God, I knows He loves me,
and 'tis that has brought me!"
"Thank God," breathed Mr. Arnold, stretching out his hand and taking
Thomas Stone's hard, horny one in his. "I take this gladly, and thank
you in my Master's name."
When the old man had gone Jill drew near. She held out her bag a little
sorrowfully--
"It has only three shillings and a half-penny in it," she said; "and
two shillings are from Sam, and threepence from Annie. I'm afraid our
money is very, very little."
"Never mind," said Mr. Arnold cheerfully, seeing her downcast face,
"God does not expect more from you at present."
Jill sighed.
"And my bag is wearing out," she said mournfully, "and Miss Falkner
has no more red flannel; she thinks a bag can be made of anything,
but I like my old one. It has great holes, and as fast as I mend them
they tear out again."
"Poor little bag!" said Mr. Arnold, taking it in his hand. "It is worn
out in a good service. Will you let me have it, Jill? I should like to
hang it up in the vestry here, so that I can look at it sometimes. What
is this tape on it? Something written on it."
"I did that," said Jill, her face in a glow of delight at Mr. Arnold's
words.