THE COLLECTION
"LUCY, Lucy! Do you think I could go to a meetin' this evening? 'Tis on
big bill posters that there be four missionaries a-goin to speak; and
'tis in a hall, only two streets off!"
Of course it was Peggy who spoke. She burst breathlessly into the
kitchen with her news, and roused Lucy from an afternoon siesta.
"Bless the girl! What a fuss!" exclaimed Lucy rather grumpily. "Of
course you can go if you have a mind to. I'm a-goin' to visit friends
to-night, but I shall be home early."
Peggy had been out of hospital a fortnight, and the very next week she
was going back to Sundale again. Her hair was still a trial to her, and
her hands and arms were scarred with the traces of the fire. But her
spirit was undaunted, and when Lucy pitied her, she said stoutly—
"I was never a beauty, and I ain't a-goin' to pity myself. I keeps
myself clean and tidy, and I don't takes notice o' nothink else."
She was full of excitement over this missionary meeting—and no wonder,
for she intended to take the proceeds of her savings to it. She had
changed her two five-pound notes into gold, and her stocking was quite
full of odd silver and pence. The meeting commenced at seven, but at
six Peggy was waiting outside the hall for the door to be opened. With
a radiant smile she took her seat, clutching her precious stocking,
which she held under her jacket, lest any evil-minded person should see
it and snatch it from her.
There were a great many people at the meeting, for it was an unusual
gathering; and Peggy recognised several of the clergymen on the
platform. The first speakers were decidedly uninteresting, she thought.
The report which was read was quite above her head.
But when the missionaries began to speak, Peggy's attention was
rivetted. She followed their words with breathless interest. If they
raised a laugh in their audience, Peggy joined heartily; if they told a
sad story, big tears came to her eyes.
And when at last a hymn was given out, and the collection-plates came
round, her cup of joy was full.
To the consternation and dismay of a very bashful young man, who held
the plate towards her, Peggy slowly and deliberately hoisted her black
stocking up, and deposited it bodily on the top of the coins.
"'Tis my stockin', young man," she asserted in a loud whisper,
distinctly audible to her nearest neighbours. "Take it on up, and don't
yer drop it, for 'tis awful heavy!"
For a moment the youth hesitated; but Peggy's terrific frown and
piercing whisper sent him flying from her.
"Don't you touch it, young man! It's for them there missionaries to
take to the heathen! 'Tis my stockin', I tell you! Don't you lay your
finger on it, for I've got my eye on yer!"
Her eyes did indeed follow him, but the collection was taken into an
inner room. And after lingering some minutes after the meeting was
over, Peggy slowly went towards the door.
"What does yer expect?" she asked herself angrily. "You've sent your
stockin' in, and there be an end to it. Do yer wants 'em all to come
round you and praise yer up? You be a downright silly, Peg, that be
what yer be!"
She was just on the threshold of the door when a hand was laid on her
arm.
Looking up she saw a little shabbily dressed woman standing by her.
"I was sitting behind you and saw you lift a stocking upon the plate,"
she said gently. "Do you mind telling me what was in it?"
"My savin's," said Peggy, a little shyly. "You see 'm, I've bin
expectin' to go to a meetin' for a long while, and so I've saved up for
it."
"I wonder how much you have been able to save?"
[Illustration: "I'VE GOT MY EYE ON YER!"]
"You see 'm, I've had one or two presents. One very big one—a whole
ten pounds—that makes it come very high, and my missuses has made me
buy some clothes, so I only got together three pounds two shillings and
ninepence halfpenny."
"And what wages do you get?"
"I'm goin' to get eight pounds a year this year 'm."
The lady walked on. She had an income herself of eight hundred a year,
and had put half a crown into the plate. Her money was her god, and
she even grudged spending it on herself. She had been persuaded to
go to the meeting to hear her nephew speak, for he was one of the
missionaries, and she had felt almost sorry that she allowed a generous
impulse to induce her to part with half a crown, when sixpence would
have sufficed.
But Peggy's pride and delight in her stocking had amused and touched
her. Shame filled her soul when she contrasted the two offerings and
respective incomes. She went home and sent an anonymous cheque for
£100 to the Society, and no one knew that a little servant-maid was
responsible for it.
Peggy was stopped once more, and this time it was a clergyman.
"Are you the little girl who sent up £13 odd in a stocking?"
Peggy beamed.
"Yes, please sir; but it were more than that: thirteen pounds two
shillings and ninepence halfpenny. I hopes as how that young man didn't
drop none! He looked quite scared."
"Has the stocking any history?" asked the clergyman, smiling.
Peggy stared at him, then answered with a little scorn in her tone—
"Why no, sir! A stockin' don't have no history. 'Tis only kings and
queens and big men have history, same as I used to learn about at
school!"
"But where did you get so much money?" said the clergyman.
"'Twas a present, sir, from my sick capting, and the rest I saved
myself."
"And how long have you been interested in missionary work?"
"Oh, ever so long, since I went to a meetin' near a year ago. I'm
a-goin' to be a missionary myself one day, but—" here a frightened look
stole into her eyes—"I shan't never have to speak on a platform like
the missionary gents do, shall I, sir?"
"You might be called upon to do worse things than that, if you were a
missionary," said the clergyman, smiling. "Why do you want to be one?"
"Oh, please sir, because of the heathen, who don't know nothin', and
the missionaries say they can't get round and tell 'em all!"
"No, we can't do that," said the clergyman, a little sadly.
"Please, sir, have you ever been out amongst the heathen?"
"Yes, for fifteen years I have been in India."
"Oh!" gasped Peggy, in awe and delight. "But you weren't one of 'em
that spoke, sir?"
"No, I was listening to younger and fresher men than myself, and found
it good to do so."
"Please, sir," said Peggy, with bright eyes and crimson cheeks, "I've
never met a heathen, but a missionary is as next-door as good; could
you shake hands with me, please sir?"
"Indeed I will, with pleasure."
Peggy almost felt as proud as if she were shaking hands with the King.
"Thank you, sir, very much," she said; "and please can you tell me if
there is heathen who speaks English anywheres, as them's the ones I
must go to, for I'm not eddicated for French and such-like."
"I think you will have to content yourself with speaking to the heathen
at home," the clergyman said, still smiling. "There are plenty of them,
my girl. Perhaps God will show you that you can serve Him best at home.
And certainly if you send your savings to enable others to go out, you
will be taking part in the great work of evangelising the world."
Peggy's face dropped.
"I've set my mind to goin' to the heathen, please sir, and I'm hopin'
to bring on a friend of mine called Ellen to do it too. But if God
don't think me fit, He'll let me know it somehow."
And then Peggy marched away with a smiling countenance and a sore heart.
"Collectin' in a stockin' is a help," she murmured to herself, "but it
ain't half big enough for me to do, and I'm a-goin' to do as much as
ever as I can, not as little!"
She was very silent when she got back to Lucy, and when she went to bed
shed some tears.
"You feels quite low, Peggy," she murmured, between her sobs. "'Tis the
miss of your stockin': seems as if there have been a death in yer room,
but 'tis all foolishness! Think of where 'tis gone, and what that there
money be a-goin' to do. And if you don't feel homey without a stockin',
get out another and start fillin' it to-morrer!"
With which resolve she fell asleep comforted.
* * * * *
It is an April day, and four years have passed since Peggy returned
from London to her country home.
She is standing under an apple-tree in the garden, and she is listening
to a merry peal of bells.
Albert Edward is sitting up on his haunches and watching her; but
a sturdy young man is watching her too, and he is not, like Albert
Edward, obliged to watch in silence, for he has a tongue in his head.
"Peggy!"
Such a start Peggy gave, and a rising blush comes into her cheeks that
makes her almost pretty.
"Now, Bill, whatever are you followin' me about for? I saw you in
church a while ago, and that's enough for one day."
"Father sent me," said the young fellow, a little awkwardly. "He wants
to hear tell of the weddin'!"
"You can tell him," said Peggy, gazing up into the pink-and-white
blossoms above her. "You knows how nice Miss Joyce looked, and there
isn't another captain in the world to beat our Captain D'Arcy! I'm
goin' in directly to cheer Miss Helen up. She 've gone to her room to
have a cry, and I come out here so soon as the carriage drove 'em away."
"And what be you thinkin' of?" asked the young man, approaching her
judiciously.
"I was thinkin' of the way they shook my hands, the two of them,"
responded Peggy, with a rapt smile about her lips. "I telled you that
they arsked me to go to Indy with them. I used to make up that I would
be a missionary d'rectly I was growed-up, and it seemed as if God were
givin' me a chance.
"But I've been learnin' different, and now Miss Helen have got so
crippled with rheumatics, I'm not goin' to leave her. I had a long
talk with her the t'other day. There be some that has to talk to folks
at home, and some that has to go abroad, and as long as we tells each
other about Jesus, and can give a helpin' hand, we be doin' work for
God. I be but a ignorant, uneddicated girl, and I'm beginnin' to see my
head is not so clever as I used to think it was. And our Lord did say,
'Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men,' and if Miss Joyce and
her captain follow Him to Indy, I can follow Him in Sundale.
"I never will give up thinkin' about they heathen, Bill. They be
twisted right round my heart, so to speak, and I be still collectin'
for them, and prayin' for them. But I'm goin' to do my dooty to my
missus, and be faithful in the small things—"
Bill listened so far, and then he held out his hands.
"Come, Peggy," he said wistfully; "you come and do your dooty to me.
I've been waitin' all this year, and father wants you awful bad!"
Peggy shook her head, but a light came into her eyes.
"You must wait a bit longer, Bill. My missus is goin' next year, she
tells me, to live with an old cousin of hers, and then I shall be free."
"You promise faithful, Peggy, that 'twill be next year? Them weddin'
bells be in my heart and brain to-day."
"If you and me means to do God's work together, Bill, I'll come to you
then."
Peggy spoke in hushed tones, but Bill drew her to him.
"My lass, you've taught me and father the way to heaven, and 'tisn't
likely I'll hold back from doing what the Lord wills!"
Peggy's eyes filled with tears.
"And oh! Bill, what do you think Captain D'Arcy said to me to-day when
he shook hands? He looked at me, and said,—
"'Goodbye, Peggy. I have a good many things to thank you for, but the
best day's work you ever did was giving me that message the first day
you saw me. You told a "sick captain" where to go to be cured, and
though he took over a twelvemonth to make up his mind, he did it at
last, and owes his complete recovery to you!'
"Those be his very words, and I cries when I think on 'em, for it makes
me so overjoyed. I arsked God before I ever come to service that I
might help a sick captain, and that's the way He has answered me!"
UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON.