“O, there is rest, O, there is rest,
Yes, there is rest for my soul.”
“And your body, too,” growled Mr. Warner. “If you women had the trials I
have with Ned, you would not set so much store by him.”
“I won’t deny that he’s trying, Henry; but when one is weary and fretted
with a long, hot day’s work, it is the most soothing thing in the world
to hear the child singing in the twilight about rest for his soul. It
rests me way to my toes.”
[Illustration]
“It would rest me a heap more if he did his work. Now, you see when I
called him to help he was singing about rest, but supper being ready, he
comes along without being called even.”
Bare feet came pattering along the porch and a little black face peeped
in the window.
“Did you call me, Mis’ser Warner?” The farmer grunted and drew up to the
table.
“Henry called you a long time ago, Neddy; why did you not come?”
“I camed jes’ as soon as I heerd him, ’deed I did. I only stopped to
pick these fur you,” and he placed his hat on the table lined with
leaves and filled to the brim with luscious blackberries; then he laid a
great bunch of wild flowers beside them. Mrs. Warner buried her face in
the fragrant flowers. How long it was since anyone had brought her
flowers! Henry used to keep her supplied; but he was too busy now.
“Deary me,” said grandma; “these will just take the place of the apple
sauce;” and she began to pick over the berries.
Ned sat at a side table and did full justice to an ample supper. When
Mr. Warner called for pie his wife gave him half of one, and,
notwithstanding his frown, gave the other half to Ned. After supper they
both went out, but Ned soon returned and began helping clear the table.
“Henry may need you, Ned,” said Mrs. Warner.
“No’m, he don’t; he tole me to clear out. You put some flowers on your
dress an’ go out an’ get some air. I’ll clean up.”
It was a great temptation, and Mrs. Warner walked through the fields to
a neighbor’s, while Ned warbled over the dishes and her husband finished
the chores.
A few months before this a lady from the South had brought Ned to sing
in the church, and had told how anxious she was to get a home for him
with Christian people who would educate him. Mrs. Warner’s heart had
softened at once, and her husband was nothing loath to have a little
helper and do God service at the same time. But they had not found it an
easy task to train Ned up in the way he should go. A sweet-tempered
little singing bird was he, as neat as a pin and as quick as a wink, but
having no more idea of responsibilities than the little warblers he
imitated in his throat.
But his kind thoughtfulness for others gave Mrs. Warner courage to keep
on with him, and, as soon as she had, with very gentle teaching, made
him to understand that promptness was the one thing required by Mr.
Warner, and that the lack of it often caused serious inconvenience, the
little fellow began to mend his ways.
[Illustration]
It was hard for him to understand at first. The fact that a thing would
give pleasure to some one seemed reason enough for its being done at
once. In fact, some of the unpleasant things seemed to him hardly worth
the doing.
But Mrs. Warner was very patient, and the heart that beat under the dark
skin was very loving and sweet.
“Yes; I see it now,” he said one day, as he dropped the first sweet
harvest apple into grandma’s lap. “It took a good while, but I
understand. If you are _told_ to do a thing, you must _do it_. Then, if
there’s any time left, or, if you can crowd the pleasant thing in along
with it, all right. But sometimes it’s powerful hard.
“There’s the sky. I s’pose he’d like to smile all the time and be bright
and jolly. But sometimes God tells him to rain, and he just goes and
does it, like a major.
“Didn’t use to seem ’s if I was selfish if I kept the cows waiting while
I picked some wild flowers for Mrs. Warner. But I _really_ suppose it
was.”
Dear little Ned! God bless him!
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[Illustration]