“I have something to tell you, my dear,” Violet began, giving her
husband a bright smile from behind the coffee urn as she filled his cup.
“Ah?” he said, returning the smile. “I am all attention. I have no
doubt it is something worth hearing.”
“Perhaps you remember that mamma’s fiftieth birthday will come early
next month,” Violet resumed.
“No, not the fiftieth surely!” exclaimed the captain. “Really I think
that, judging from her looks alone, no one would take her to be over
forty.”
“So we all think, and everybody says she has a remarkably young face.
But it will be her fiftieth birthday, and we, her children, want to do
her unusual honor. Of course, as you know, my dear, we always remember
the day, and each of us has some little gift for her, but this, being
her semi-centennial, we think should be observed in some special
manner.”
“I agree with you, and what do you propose doing in order to celebrate
it appropriately?”
“We have not fully decided that question, and would be glad of
suggestions and advice from you, if you will kindly give them.”
“I am sensible of the honor you do me, but must take a little time to
reflect,” was his pleasant rejoinder.
“Papa, how old are you?” asked Grace with sudden animation, as if the
question had just occurred to her.
“About twenty-four years older than Max,” replied the captain, turning
upon his first-born a look of fatherly pride and affection.
“And I’m almost fifteen,” added Max.
“That makes papa thirty-nine,” remarked Lulu. “You’ll be forty next
birthday, won’t you, papa?”
“Yes, daughter.”
“Then Grandma Elsie is only about ten years older than you, not nearly
enough older to be your real mother.”
“Quite true,” he said, with a humorous look, “but I find it not at all
unpleasant to have so young and beautiful a mother; a lady so lovely
in character, as well as in form and feature, that I should greatly
rejoice to know that my daughters would grow up to resemble her in all
respects.”
“I’d like to be exactly like her, except—” But there Grace paused,
leaving her sentence unfinished.
“Except in being fifty years old?” her father asked, regarding her with
laughing eyes.
“Yes, sir; I’d rather be a little girl for a good while yet; your
little girl, papa, who can sit on your knee whenever she wants to.”
“That’s right,” he said heartily. “I am by no means ready to part with
my little Gracie yet.”
“I feel just as Gracie does about it,” said Lulu. “I want to be a
little girl for a while longer, then a young lady; but when I get to
be fifty years old I’d like to be as nearly like Grandma Elsie as
possible.”
“I hope not to be,” remarked Max facetiously; “but I know a gentleman I
would like to resemble so much when I’m forty, that people would say of
me, ‘He’s just a chip off the old block,’” and with the last words the
lad turned a proud, admiring, affectionate look upon his father.
The captain’s countenance expressed pleasure, and Violet, looking
pleased also, said, “I hope you will have your wish, Max, and I think
there is every prospect of it.”
“What plans are thought of for the coming celebration, my dear?” asked
the captain.
“We talk of a garden or lawn party, if the weather is fine; all the
relatives to be invited, and perhaps a few intimate friends beside.
Certainly our minister and his wife.”
“I don’t think I could suggest anything better,” the captain said.
“But you may be able to give some useful hints in regard to plans for
the entertainment of the guests, and suitable gifts for mamma.”
“Possibly; and you must help me to decide upon mine.”
“I shall be only too glad,” she answered with a bright, pleased look.
“And we children may give something nice to Grandma Elsie too, mayn’t
we, papa?” they asked, all three speaking at once.
“Most assuredly,” he replied, “the very nicest thing, or things,
you can think of that will come within the limits of your financial
ability.”
“Papa,” remarked Grace doubtfully, “I don’t believe I know exactly what
that means.”
“You understand the meaning of ability, surely?” returned her father.
“Yes, sir; but that other word—fi—”
“Financial? as I used it then, it means the amount of money you
children may have at your disposal at the time of making your
purchases.”
“Oh, I’m glad I have some money saved up!” she remarked with
satisfaction.
“How much?” he asked.
“A good deal, papa; about five dollars, I think.”
“Ah, so much as that? quite a fortune,” he said, with a look of
amusement.
“I suppose, wife, your mother is to be consulted in regard to the
manner of the proposed celebration? about the party, the guests to be
invited, and so forth?”
“Oh, yes, sir; about everything but the gifts she is to receive.”
The babies had had their evening romp with papa and been carried off
to the nursery, Gracie going along at Elsie’s urgent request, and all
the more willingly because she had heard her father say he must write
a letter immediately, that it might be in time to go by the next mail,
so she knew that for the present she and Max and Lulu must do without
their usual bit of chat with him.
Lulu was particularly desirous for an opportunity for a talk with him,
for she had a scheme in her head about which she wished to ask his
advice and permission. She would not have minded broaching the subject
before Max and Gracie, but thought it would be still more enjoyable to
talk it over with papa alone.
“I’ll not go far away,” she said to herself, “and when papa has
finished his writing maybe I’ll get a chance to talk a little with him
before anybody else comes.”
She took a book and seated herself in the veranda; but she did not
read. The captain, stepping to the door presently, saw her sitting
with the book lying unopened in her lap, her attitude and expression
denoting profound thought. She did not seem aware even of his approach
as he drew near her side, but started and looked up in surprise as he
laid his hand gently on her head, saying, “A penny for my little girl’s
thoughts! She looks as if she had the affairs of the nation on her
shoulders.”
“I’m sure they’re not worth a penny, papa, but you are welcome to them
for nothing,” she returned laughingly, “if you have time to let me talk
to you.”
She rose as she spoke, and taking the chair, he drew her to his knee.
“Plenty of time, now that that letter has been dispatched,” he said.
“But are you to do all the talking?”
“Oh no, indeed, papa; I hope you’ll do the most of it, but I suppose I
must begin by telling you my thoughts.”
“Yes.”
“I was thinking about a poor girl that spoke to me in the street to-day
and asked for sewing to do to earn money to support herself and her
sick mother.
“I told her I would try to get some work for her. Afterward Max and I
went into a store where we saw brackets and picture frames, and other
things, carved out of wood as we do it, only they were not so pretty
as some we have made; at least we both thought so, and we wondered how
much was paid for such work. The price they were asking for them was on
them, and Max thought it a good one. We were talking together about it
when the merchant came up and asked if we wanted to buy any of those
things.
“He said he had sold a good many, and was sorry the lady who had carved
them for him was going to give up doing it. I asked if it paid well,
and he told me how much he gave, and asked if I knew anybody who would
like to earn money in that way.”
“And what answer did you make to that?”
“I said I wasn’t sure; I knew a boy and girl who were fond of that kind
of work, and I thought could do it a little better than those were
done, but I didn’t know whether they would want to do it for pay, or
whether their parents would be willing to let them.”
“And the boy and girl you referred to were Max and yourself?”
“Yes, sir; would you let us do it if we wanted to?”
“That would depend upon circumstances; it is a question to be
considered.”
“Well, papa, this is what I was thinking of when you spoke to me. You
know I spend some of my spare time sewing for the poor, and you know I
don’t like to sew—I mean I don’t enjoy doing it—and I do enjoy carving;
and that poor girl wants sewing to do, because she needs to earn her
living, and that’s her way of doing it; and I was trying to decide
whether or not it would be right for me to give her the sewing to do
and pay her for doing it with money I could earn by carving. Would it
be right, papa? and will you let me do it?”
“I say yes to both questions; I think it a good idea; for you will be
doing good in two ways—helping the poor to whom the garments go, and
the poor girl who wants employment; and that without indulging yourself
in laziness.”
“Oh, I am so glad you approve, papa!” Lulu exclaimed in delight. “I
was afraid you would not; I was afraid that perhaps I ought to do the
sewing myself if only because I dislike it so.”
“No, my child, there is nothing praise-worthy in doing a thing merely
because it is unpleasant to us. If another is needing help which we can
give in that way and no other, duty bids us to perform the unpleasant
task; but in this case it seems you can do more good by allowing the
young sewing-girl to act as your substitute, helping her at the same
time that you help those to whom the garments will go.
“But the sewing you can give will not be really enough to keep even
one seamstress busy.”
“Oh, no, sir; but I am going to tell Mamma Vi and Grandma Elsie about
her, and I think they will find her work and recommend her to other
ladies who want sewing done, if they find that she does it well.”
“Did you learn her name and where she lives?”
“Yes, sir; and I wanted to go and see the place, but Max said you would
not approve; so I didn’t go.”
“Max was quite right. You must never venture into strange places about
the city without my knowledge and consent, unless with Grandma Elsie or
some other equally wise and trustworthy person.”
“I will not, papa,” she answered, smiling lovingly into his eyes. “I do
hope I shall never again disobey you in anything.”
“I hope not, indeed,” he said, smoothing her hair caressingly. “So far
as I know, you have been very good and obedient for the last six months
or more.”
Just then Violet and Grace joined them, followed almost immediately by
Max, and as he stepped from the doorway the Ion family carriage was
seen coming up the drive.
It brought Violet’s grandparents, mother, and young brother and
sister—Rosie and Walter. They spent the evening. The proposed birthday
celebration was under discussion for some time, several questions in
regard to it were settled, then Lulu found an opportunity to tell of
Susan Allen and her needs.
Grandma Elsie—always ready for every good work—said: “If you will
accompany me, Captain, I will hunt them up to-morrow and inquire into
their needs, should nothing unforeseen happen to prevent.”
“I shall be at your service, mother, then, or at any other time,”
returned the captain gallantly. “And we will take Lulu with us, if you
have no objection,” he added, as he caught an entreating look from her.
“Not the slightest,” replied Mrs. Travilla, smiling kindly upon the
little girl.
“Oh, thank you, Grandma Elsie! Thank you, papa; I should like to go
very much indeed”, exclaimed Lulu joyously.
While Lulu talked with Susan Allen in the city street that afternoon,
the girl’s mother lay on a bed of straw in the small attic room
they called home; a very forlorn specimen of a home it was, though
everything in and about it was scrupulously neat and clean; the floor
was bare, save a strip of carpet beside the bed; there were three
unpainted wooden chairs, a little table to match, and a tiny stove;
their few changes of raiment hung on hooks along the wall back of the
bed, and a few cheap dishes and cooking utensils were ranged in an
orderly manner on some shelves in one corner.
The one window was shaded by a paper blind and short white curtain,
both bearing evidence of careful mending, as did the night-dress worn
by the invalid, the sheets and pillowcases of her bed.
She was not an old woman; Susan was but sixteen, and her mother, who
had married very young, little more than twice that age. But toil and
privation had broken down her health, and aged her before her time,
so that she looked full forty; there were very perceptible lines in
her forehead, and the dark hair was streaked with gray; yet it was a
pleasant face to look upon—so full of sweet patience and resignation.
A well-worn Bible lay beside her, and one hand rested upon the open
page; but her eyes were closed and tears trickled down her wasted
cheek, while her lips moved as if in prayer.
One standing very near might have heard the low, murmured words, but
they reached only the ear of Him who has said: “Call upon me in the day
of trouble; I will deliver thee and thou shalt glorify me.”
It was that promise she was pleading.
“Lord,” her pale lips whispered, “I believe thy word and obey thy kind
command; it is the day of trouble with me and my beloved child. We are
in sore straits; the last cent is gone, the last crust eaten; we have
neither barn nor storehouse, yet I know thou wilt feed us as thou dost
the sparrows; for thou hast said, ‘Are not ye much better than they?’
and, ‘Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these
things.’ Lord, increase my faith and let me never for one moment doubt
thy word—thy promise to deliver those who call upon thee in the day of
trouble, and never to leave or forsake any who put their trust in thee.
Oh, blessed be thy holy name, for all the great and precious promises
thou hast given thy people, and upon which thou hast taught me to lean
in every time of trouble!”
She was still pouring out her soul in prayer and praise when Susan’s
light step came up the stairs, the door was hastily thrown open, and
she entered with flushed, beaming face, and arms full of bundles, half
breathless with excitement and exertion.
“Mother, dear mother!” she cried, as she hastened to deposit her
burdens on the table, “I know you have been praying for help, and God
has sent it. See here! the very luxury I have been longing to get you,
but without the least hope of being able to do so; great, lovely,
luscious strawberries!” gently pouring them from the paper bag in which
she had carried them, on to a plate. “I’ll put some of the finest on
a saucer for you. Here is sugar for them, too, and delicate crackers
to eat with them. And here are oranges; the finest in the market! O
mother, eat and grow strong!” she added, tears springing to her eyes,
as she put a saucer of berries into her mother’s hand and laid a fine
orange by her side. “I won’t keep you waiting till I can stem the
berries, but just give you some sugar on another saucer to dip them
into. Oh, if I only had some of the rich cream for you that we used to
have before we left the farm!”
“Oh, child, our Father has sent us so much, so much, don’t let us fret
after anything more!” cried the mother at length, recovering the power
of speech, of which surprise and joy had robbed her ever since her
daughter’s entrance so richly laden.
“No, mother, no indeed! only I should so love to give you every comfort
and luxury to make you well. You are so thin and weak! There, do lie
back on your pillows and let me feed you. Isn’t that delicious?”
putting a berry into her mouth.
“Oh, very, very! But let me thank God, and then do you eat with me.”
They were very hungry, having scarcely tasted food that day, but when
the edge of their appetites had been taken off, Mrs. Allen remarked,
with an inquiring look at her daughter, “But you haven’t told me yet
where you got all these good things?”
“No, mother, but I’ll do it now. You know I went out in search of work.
I can’t beg, but I am willing to ask for employment. I asked at some
private houses, and two or three stores, but no one seemed to care to
risk trying me.
“Then I saw a carriage (a very handsome one it was, with match horses)
stop at a street crossing, and a boy and girl step out on the pavement.
A tall, fine-looking gentleman handed the little girl out, then stepped
back into the carriage, and it drove off.
“You can’t think how pretty and beautifully dressed the little girl
was; she had bright dark eyes, rosy cheeks, and a smiling mouth, and
as the gentleman set her down they gave each other such a loving look!
I felt sure she had a kind heart, so I stepped up to her, as she stood
looking after the carriage as it drove away down the street, and asked
her if she knew of anybody wanting a seamstress.
“She turned round quickly and answered in a very pleasant tone. She
promised to tell her mother about me when she went home, and see if she
could get me work to do. She opened her purse—such a lovely one with
gold clasps—as if she meant to give me money, and I felt my face grow
hot at being taken for a beggar. I said it wasn’t charity I was asking
for, but work.
“Then she said, in the kindest tone, ‘Of course not, you don’t look
like a beggar. But I’d be glad to help you in some suitable way’; and
asked where I lived.
“While I was telling her a boy came up and stood beside her listening.
He asked me questions, too, and took out a note-book and wrote down my
name and address. He was as nice and kind-looking as his sister—as I
suppose she is, for they resemble each other strongly; the gentleman,
too, that helped her out of the carriage; I think he must be their
father.
“They called each other Max and Lu, and talked between themselves about
what would please or displease papa.
“I had told her that you were sick, and we’d nothing to depend on but
what I could earn, and as I was turning to go, after her brother had
taken my address, and promised that somebody would hunt us up soon, she
told me to wait a moment and go with her to a fruit-stand; she wanted
to get something nice for my sick mother to eat.
“And there they bought all these things; she the berries—at a dollar
a box, mother! only think of it!—and he the oranges and crackers and
sugar.
“Oh, I remember I saw her slip something into the bag with the
oranges, I wonder what it was, I must look!” she exclaimed, turning
hastily to the table, where she had deposited the bag.
She took the oranges out one by one till the bag was nearly empty, then
catching sight of something shining at the bottom, made a dive for it
and drew it out with a little cry of joy.
“Oh, it’s half a dollar! Now mother, you shall have some tea and a bit
of broiled steak, or a lamb chop. I’ll run out to the nearest provision
store now and get them.”
She began putting on her hat as she spoke.
“Child, you must buy for yourself too,” her mother said, with tears
shining in her eyes.
“O mother, no! I shall do nicely without meat, but you are so weak you
must have it to strengthen you.”
She stepped to the side of the bed again, bent over her mother, and
kissed her tenderly.
“Dear child, I cannot enjoy it unless you share it with me; you need
nourishing food quite as much as I,” returned the mother, gazing fondly
into the eyes looking so lovingly into hers. “The Lord has sent us
money enough to buy what we need for to-day, and we will trust him for
to-morrow. A text—a precious promise—has been running in my mind ever
since you came in laden with so many good things: ‘Before they call I
will answer, and while they are yet speaking I will hear.’ I had been
asking him very earnestly to send us help in our sore extremity, and
while I was yet speaking it came.
“O daughter, let us ever stay our hearts on him, never for a moment
doubting his loving-kindness and faithfulness to his promises, no
matter how dark and threatening the cloud may be.”
“I’ll try, mother. Ah, I wish I had your faith. Now I must go; but I’ll
be back again in five or ten minutes. But I’ll put some more berries in
your saucer, first, and I don’t want to find a single one in it when I
come back,” she added with playful gayety. “Aren’t they making you feel
a little better already, you dear, patient mother?”
“Yes, dear, they are very refreshing. But you are giving me more than
my fair share.”
“No, indeed, mamma, they were all given to you, and I have eaten a good
many. I want you to finish the rest, for I do hope they will do more
for you than any medicine could. Now I’m off. Don’t be lonesome while
I’m gone,” and she hurried away with a light, free step, tears of joy
and thankfulness shining in her eyes.
Not many minutes had passed ere she returned with the materials for
what was to them a feast indeed.
“See mother,” she said, displaying her purchases, “just see how
extravagant I have been! two nice lamb chops, two fresh eggs, a loaf
of bread, half a dozen potatoes, a quarter of a pound of tea, and five
cents’ worth of butter. Oh, but we shall have a feast! I’ll broil the
chops, bake the potatoes, toast a few slices of the bread, and make
you a cup of tea. I’d have bought a few cents’ worth of milk, but I
remembered that you like your tea quite as well without.”
“But you don’t drink tea, dear, and should have bought some milk for
yourself.”
“No, no, mother. I’m very fond of cold water and fortunately a very
good article in that line can be had for the going after, no farther
than to the hydrant in front of the street door,” she answered with a
merry look and smile.
As she talked she was moving about with light, quick step between
table and stove, performing her tasks with the ease and dexterity
of a practiced hand, and without noise or bustle, her mother’s eyes
following her with loving glances.
“You are very bright and cheery to-night, dear child,” she said.
“Yes, mother, I haven’t been in such spirits for weeks. I do believe
better days are dawning for us, mother dear, and all in answer to your
prayers.”
She paused at the bedside to bend lovingly over the dear parent and
touch her lips to the pale cheek.
“Yes, my Susie, and yours too. The Bible tells us that God is the
hearer and answerer of prayer, and many times I have proved it in my
own experience; but he is no respecter of persons, but ready to hear
and help any, however humble and unworthy, who come in the name of
Jesus and pleading his merits.”
“Yes, mother, I know it. I have been praying for help, and I’m sure he
sent it; and while I feel very grateful to that dear little girl and
boy, I’m thanking God with all my heart for all these good things; for
they were only his messengers, and the gifts were more from him than
from them even—the dear, kind children!”