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"The Little Missis"
By Charlotte Skinner
_Author of "Doctor Phill," "The Master's Messages to Women," etc._
With Six Illustrations
LONDON
S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO. LTD.
OLD BAILEY
[Illustration: "'SEE HOW CAREFULLY HE IS HELPING HER OUT OF THE CAB.'"]
CONTENTS
I. HIS PURPOSE
II. THE HOME-COMING
III. A GARDEN LEVEE
IV. A TESTING TIME
V. WILL GOD ANSWER?
VI. THE DARKNESS DEEPENS
VII. THE LAME SHEPHERD
VIII. A TWOFOLD PARTNERSHIP
IX. A WOMAN'S WHIMS
X. A GATHERED FLOWER
XI. IS GOD GOOD?
XII. THE STONE THROWN IN THE WATERS
XIII. LOVE'S HOSPITAL
XIV. AN UNFORTUNATE ENCOUNTER
XV. JOY-MISSIONARIES
XVI. THE CALL OF DEBORAH
XVII. THE GOING FORTH OF DEBORAH
XVIII. HER NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOUR
XIX. THE NEW CLUB-ROOM
XX. A STRANGE KIND OF PREACHING
XXI. PARTNERS!
XXII. LIGHT ON THE PATHWAY
XXIII. LOYAL LOVE
XXIV. RECOGNISED
XXV. BESSIE COMES TO THE RESCUE
XXVI. THE HOME-COMING
XXVII. RALPH STARTS ON ANOTHER JOURNEY
XXVIII. OLIVE LEAVES AND LAUREL LEAVES
XXIX. CROWNED WITH JOY
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"'See how carefully he is helping her out of the cab.'"
"Phebe was in the shop taking a general look round"
"'Bessie, you are to tell me right out what is troubling you'"
"'Let us put this cold-blooded letter on the fire'"
"She caused the cup with its contents to fall into Phebe's lap"
"He was standing on the pavement, looking a sad, solitary figure"
"THE LITTLE MISSIS"
CHAPTER I
HIS PURPOSE
Creak--creak--creak! went the old mangle--one of the box sort, weighted
with stones.
"Are you dreadfully busy, Mrs. Colston?" called out a clear, young
voice.
"Bless me, is that you, Miss Phebe?" and the mangle was suddenly silent.
"No, I'm not dreadfully busy, and in two minutes I was going to make
myself some tea; and if you----"
"Oh, won't I, rather! I should just think I will, you dearie; and I'll
get it ready, too, while you play your last tune on your old organ."
Creak, creak, went the mangle, clatter went the cups, and in less than
ten minutes the two were seated at a little round three-legged table
enjoying tea and talk.
"Can't think what's the matter with you to-day, Miss Phebe. Have you got
a new dress on, or have you been doing something to your complexion, or
what is it?" asked Mrs. Colston, looking very intently across the table.
"I have got my old dress on, and have not even washed my face in dew."
"Well, then, what is it?--Ah, I know! you've fallen in love."
"Yes, I fell in love with you a long time ago," answered her visitor
demurely; "but I see you've guessed my secret, you are so clever. The
fact is, I have got two secrets to tell you. I wonder which I should
bring out first!"
The old mangle woman got up from her arm-chair, and, going to where the
girl was sitting, took the fair young face into her hands and kissed the
right cheek, saying, as the tears started to her eyes: "There, my dear;
that's in place of your mother's kiss, and," kissing the other cheek,
"that's for myself."
Resuming her seat there was silence for a minute or two, and then Mrs.
Colston, said: "I think I can guess both your secrets. The first is, you
have given yourself to Jesus; and the second is, you have promised to
marry Stephen Collins."
"Oh, dear, no," exclaimed the girl, rising from her seat. "Why, he has
never asked me. Besides--no, I have promised to marry Ralph Waring."
"Ralph Waring!" repeated the old woman, and then there was an awkward
silence.
"Oh, dear Mrs. Colston, you do not think I have done wrong, do you?"
exclaimed the girl, sinking on her knees in front of her old friend,
"say you do not!"
"No, no, dearie; I don't exactly, but it's took me by surprise," and
putting both her arms round her neck she kissed her again. "No, dearie,
don't think that. Ralph is a very good young man, but I know very well
how much Steve loves you."
"It is strange," mused the girl; "Ralph asked me if I loved him more
than I did Stephen, and I said of course I did." Then, rising to her
feet, she said with a ring of pride in her voice, "You know Ralph is so
clever; you should hear him give some of his lectures! He is a great
favourite at several men's meetings. His great ambition is to be a
Member of Parliament. He is sure to be mayor some day."
"He does a good business, doesn't he?"
"Just fancy, now, you thinking about that; I see, after all, you have an
eye to money. I never thought it of you," and then Miss Phebe laughed
quite naturally, and the little cloud which seemed to have risen between
them cleared away and the sun shone again.
"Why shouldn't I? We can't live without it--but bless me, your cup is
empty: what can I be thinking of?"
Phebe commenced drinking her second cup, never noticing that her
companion had not touched the first one yet. "Now tell me all about the
other secret: that's more interesting to me, you know, for it's so long
since I fell in love I forget what it's like."
"But it is a long time since you first loved Jesus, and you don't forget
what that is like."
"Ah! that's different, you see. He never changes; men and women do. But
never you mind about my love affairs: tell me yours."
Phebe rose and went and stood in front of the window, looking into the
little bricked yard through which she had entered the house. There were
some scarlet geraniums in the window doing duty in place of a curtain,
and her cheeks seemed to have caught the hue of the blossoms.
"You know for a long time I have wanted to be a Christian."
"Yes;" and Mrs. Colston poked the fire during the pause. It was strange
for Miss Phebe to continue the conversation while her back was towards
her friend; many people can speak openly about earthly love matters, but
are shy when the Great Lover is concerned.
"All at once I seemed to understand wishing was not sufficient, that a
definite act was needed. So the night before last I got out of bed and
knelt down by my old easy-chair, and told Jesus I gave myself entirely
to Him, that He should be my dear Master, and that I would be willing to
do all He wished."
How well the old friend could see the scene! She knew the room so well.
The old chair was covered with brown leather, and it was the chair the
girl's mother had died in. By its side stood a little writing-table, and
on the wall above were portraits--mostly cut from newspapers and
magazines--of some eminent men and women whom the girl regarded as
heroes and heroines. An old apple-tree grew close by the window, and in
the summer-time little could be seen of the outside world but its green
leaves and greener fruit. When the wind blew the boughs tapped, tapped
at the window-panes, but Phebe would not have them cut. "I like to
think," said she, "they are messengers come to tell me the old tree's
secrets."
"Since then," the girl continued, "I have been so happy; and is it not
funny," turning now towards the fire, "that the very next day Ralph
should ask me to be his wife? So I have given myself away twice since I
last saw you."
"I wonder if there is anything left of you for me?" Mrs. Colston asked,
with a twinkling smile.
"Yes; I'm still yours. I could never forget how you loved me when I was
a little crying mite. You gave me two kisses; I'll give you two--one for
being good to me when I was a troublesome juvenile, and one for being
good to me now I am a proper grown-up. But I have not finished my story,
and if you interrupt me again I shall turn the mangle instead of talking
to you. I think I told you a long time ago how much I wanted to write a
book--indeed, I have tried, and sent little chapters of it to editors in
London, but they have always been returned with thanks. Now you see
Jesus has opened up my way to serve Him. I am going to help Ralph with
his lectures and speeches--he says I shall--and I shall go with him to
all his engagements. He says those who ask him must ask me, too; and,
after all, to live a life for Jesus is better than writing a book for
Him."
"Comes to about the same thing, I should think."
"I am sure you will be happy now I am a Christian"--this with a coaxing
voice.
"But you are a very young Christian."
"A young Christian! Whatever do you mean?"
"My dear child, you have only just started. Why, even the daisies don't
come up all at once: flowers and fruits that do, don't come to much."
"If that is what you mean," Phebe replied, with a sigh of relief, "I
don't mind."
"Why, you think of my work," the old woman continued; "I often do. The
clothes are not finished when the dirt's out, and you are not a finished
Christian as soon as your sin's forgiven. The clothes have to be
bleached and dried, and then there comes the getting out of the creases,
and so I mangle them and mangle them."
"But look here," said Phebe, laughing, "you don't mean to say I have got
to be mangled?"
"You need not laugh, my dear, for I am quite sure if Jesus was to speak
just now He'd use my old mangle for a text. I know He would; and why
shouldn't He, just as well as using the woman's candle and yeast, and
the man's fishing-net and pruning-knife."
"I should not like to think I had to be mangled."
"It's more than mangling, Miss Phebe, for if we want to put a nice
polish on the clothes we use a hot iron to them. You are used to the
thought of being like gold in the fire, and a lump of clay in the
potter's hand: why not think of yourself as under my roller? I often and
often think, as I smoothes out the marks, and stretches the corners, and
turns, and turns, that is just how Jesus is doing with me."
"H'm," mused Phebe, "I suppose it's another way of describing
tribulation. But do you suppose everybody has tribulation?"
"I do; there isn't a plant in my little garden I haven't used the
scissors to."
"Ah, well, I suppose we must submit."
"Yes, dearie; and we must look beyond to the afterwards. When we see
what the Lord has made us we shall thank Him. Why, the things that I
carefully pack in the baskets are hardly like the same things I take
out, they look that nice."
"Do you think I shall have much tribulation, dear Mrs. Colston?" asked
Phebe anxiously, placing her hand on her old friend's shoulder.
"I don't know for certain; the Lord only can tell that. But," looking up
lovingly into the face of her favourite, "don't you worry, He'll help
you right through, sure enough."
When Miss Phebe had taken her departure and the mangle had started again
its painful song, the old woman said to herself: "Strikes me she will
have a good deal; but it will be because the Lord wants her to be extra
polished. She's real damask, she is; worth taking a good deal of trouble
with. Some folks are only like dusters, and if the Lord was like me He'd
not take much trouble with them. But, bless me, it's a good thing the
Lord is not like me, it 'ud be a poor look-out for some folks if He
was."
As Miss Phebe walked home she said to herself: "I thought it was all
settled, but it would seem I have only just commenced." That night she
again knelt by the old arm-chair. It had always seemed she could pray
best there, for it recalled the time when she had knelt at her mother's
knees, and had first learnt to talk to Jesus. "Dear Lord," she prayed,
"make me a true Christian; and help me to be perfectly willing to let
Thee do it in whatever way you think will be best for me."
A mile away, in a farmhouse on a height over-looking the little town of
Hadley, another earnest soul knelt in prayer: "Lord, help me to put her
out of my thoughts. If this is allowed by Thee as discipline, make me
willing to bear it. Lord, help me, but Thou knowest how much I loved
her!" and a sob, which would have broken his mother's heart if she had
heard it, escaped from Stephen Collins as he looked forward into the
future.
At the foot of the same hill, in the back parlour of a thriving shop, a
young fellow was counting his day's takings, and when he had finished,
he drew his chair up to the fire to think things over. "Steve Collins
thought he was sure of her, I know he did; but I got the start of him
for once. I wonder if Phebe's father is really well off! I have got on
very well so far, but it is slow work in this sleepy place."
* * * * *
The gardener pegs some of his plants down to the ground: some he places
by a south wall, some in open spaces where the north wind has free
access. He has a purpose with each, and whatever he does is for their
"making."