"I'll give you two sovereigns for the five. It's a good price, but I
mean it."
"I've told you I can't part with them," was Teddie Braham's reply to
this offer of his schoolfellow, Gerald Keith, to buy his pet rabbits.
"What, sell little Stripe, and Pickles, and old Brownie, and Spot, and
Longears! I should be very badly off before I should do such a thing."
"Perhaps you think I haven't got the money. See for yourself," and
Gerald displayed three glittering sovereigns.
"Are they all yours?" Teddie asked in amazement.
"Yes. It was my birthday yesterday; mother and father each gave me one,
and Uncle Dick the other. You've only to say the word and two of them
are yours. You have such a lot of pets, you won't miss your rabbits."
But Teddie was not to be tempted. He shook his head, smiling a little
scornfully. Almost instantly, however, the smile changed into a look of
alarm. One of the coins slipped from its owner's hand, rolled along the
pathway, and before either of the boys could stop it, fell down the
grating of a drain. For a moment Gerald, too, looked pale; then he broke
into a laugh.
"It can't be helped," he said, "and there's plenty more where that came
from. The worst of it is, mother told me not to carry the money about
with me; but she'll give me another sovereign quick enough if I ask her.
My father, you know, is one of the richest men about here."
He said it boastingly, and Teddy, having left his schoolfellow where the
road branched off to their respective homes, went on his way, on that
sunshiny June afternoon, thinking, rather seriously, how pleasant it
must be to be as rich as Gerald. True, he had a great deal to make him
happy; but, though comfortably off, his parents were not rich, and
Teddie's mind dwelt longingly on the pony, the beautiful little
tricycle, and handsome gold watch, of which Gerald was the proud
possessor.
On reaching home, Teddie went straight to the drawing-room to find his
mother. But a visitor was with her, and he had to wait before he could
ask her to put on her hat and go out in the garden with him. He took up
a book and sat down quietly. In a few minutes, however, his attention
was caught by the conversation between the two ladies.
Mrs. Taylor, the visitor, told a sad story of a working-man, who, in
consequence of an accident, had been unable to earn a penny for several
weeks. His wife was also in bad health, and she and her seven young
children were in great distress. Mrs. Taylor was trying to collect some
money to relieve the poor woman till her husband was again able to work,
and she asked Mrs. Braham for a subscription. To Teddy's surprise, she
answered,--
"I am sorry that I cannot help you in the matter."
"But the smallest sum will be acceptable," said Mrs. Taylor; "five
shillings, or even half-a-crown."
"I cannot even give you half-a-crown," and Teddy's quick ears heard his
mother's voice falter as she said the words.
"Then," said Mrs. Taylor coldly, "I suppose it is no good to ask you to
give your usual yearly donation towards the summer treat for the
Sunday-school children?"
"It pains me to refuse you, but I must."
An uncomfortable silence followed. Mrs. Taylor rose to go, but Mrs.
Braham motioned her to resume her seat.
"This must seem so strange to you," she said, "that I feel I must
explain. My husband has had a sudden and very serious loss. He is now a
comparatively poor man, and it would not be right for me to give, as I
have hitherto been pleased and thankful to do."
Teddy could not bear to see tears in his mother's eyes. He went and
stood by her side while Mrs. Taylor expressed her sympathy, and also her
sorrow at having wounded Mrs. Braham's feelings. But Mrs. Braham said,
with a smile, that no apology was needed; and then, having seen her
visitor to the hall-door, she returned to the drawing-room, and took
Teddie on her knee. He was eleven years old, but that was still his
favorite seat. Very gently she put back the hair from his forehead and
kissed him, and then suddenly she bent her head and burst into a fit of
weeping. Wise Teddie only pressed his arms more closely round her neck,
and said nothing till the tears began to stop. Then he whispered,--
"Won't you tell me all about it, mother?"
"Dear, this is the first real trouble you have known," she answered,
"and I am so sorry that your young, happy life should be clouded. If we
could keep the knowledge from you we would, but that is impossible."
Then she told him how his father had become surety for a friend, and
explained that this meant a promise to pay a certain sum of money in
place of the friend, if that friend should find himself unable to pay
it. Mr. Braham had made a promise to pay a large amount on this
condition, and it had fallen on him to fulfil his word.
"Is father _quite_ poor now?" Teddie asked; "as poor as the people who
live in the cottages in the lane?"
"No, dear; but we shall have to be very careful. I shall send Mary away
and keep only one servant. In order to remain in the house we must let
some of our rooms, and this year, at any rate, there will be no holiday
for us at the seaside."
"I don't mind it for myself, mother," said Teddie lovingly, "I only mind
it for you."
"But, darling, do you think you know what it means?" she asked. "No
presents, no treats, very few pleasures of any kind. Can you meet all
this patiently and bravely? If you do you will carry out Christ's
command: 'Bear ye one another's burdens,' for you will be helping your
father and me to bear _our_ burden."
"I will try;" and though when Teddie raised his head from its
resting-place his eyes were wet, his face still wore a look of brave
resolve.
It was a promise which he at once began to carry out in deed. It would
be hard to part with his rabbits, hard to go to Gerald and say he would
accept his offer after the somewhat scornful way in which he had before
refused it. But he did not know _how_ much the sacrifice would cost
until he opened the hutch, and out came the little animals for their
evening meal. He took Stripe in his arms, and Brownie put her front paws
on his knee, as if jealous of the caresses Stripe was getting. He felt
he could not let them go. But the feeling only lasted a few minutes, and
he hadn't a single regret when next day he placed two sovereigns in his
mother's hand.
She could only kiss him and thank him. Not on any account would she have
told him that had she known his intention she should not have allowed
him to carry it out.
I am glad to say that in a few years Mr. Braham fully regained the money
he had lost. But in better circumstances Teddie did not cease those
loving acts of kindness and unselfishness which he tried so hard to
practise for his mother and father's sake in their time of difficulty,
and he still finds ways and means in which to obey that "law" of Christ:
"Bear ye one another's burdens."
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