It was July, and the great city was very hot. Day after day the fiery
sun rose and blazed away with all his might on the dusty pavements and
heated houses. All the people too who could were leaving the city.
But the poor were obliged to stay, no matter how the sun beat down
into their narrow streets and small stifling rooms. There had been no
rain for a long time; many people were sick and dying, and the world
looked very dark to some of them. Mrs. Holmes lived high up in the
topmost rooms of a tall block of buildings. Her rooms were small and
hot, for the sun shone into her windows and upon the roof all the long
day. She was a seamstress and a widow with one little daughter,
Nettie.
Mrs. Holmes was very sad and troubled, for Nettie had not been well
all the spring, and now she seemed like a little wilted flower; no
strength, nor appetite, though mamma denied herself everything that
she could to get nice little things to tempt her darling. The doctor
had said she must have change of air, must go into the country. He
might just as well have said she must go to Europe, for Mrs. Holmes
had no dear old home in the country waiting to welcome her; no uncles,
aunts and cousins, writing "When will you come?" So she sat through
the long afternoon and tried to sew as well as she could with the
heat, and the flies, and her sad thoughts.
Nettie was lying on the bed asleep, her little face as white as the
pillow.
"She is going to slip right away from me, and leave me alone," the
poor mother groaned to herself. "Oh, Father in heaven, help me!" she
cried. "Show me what to do for my dear little daughter." The help was
nearer than she thought.
"Mamma," said Nettie, sitting up very suddenly, "I had a nice dream; I
guess I was in the country, for there were trees all around, and
green grass, and birds singing; and such beautiful flowers! Are there
any flies there?" she said, as she brushed a troublesome one from her
face.
The tears came in her mother's eyes, for she remembered dimly the
pleasant cool rooms, darkened by blinds and shade trees, where
scarcely a fly dared set it's foot, but that was long ago.
Mrs. Bertrand lived in the city, too, and she was a widow also. The
difference between her and Mrs. Holmes was that Mrs. Bertrand had a
great deal of money, and lived on the broad avenue, in a stone house,
with marble steps. She lived there winters, but as soon as the first
warm days came she packed all her handsome dresses into her trunks,
and started for her house in the country, a lovely spot on the shore
of the bay. There she spent the pleasant summers, rambling over her
beautiful grounds, resting under the shade trees, or sailing on the
bay. Now, she was not selfish and cold-hearted, if she _was_ a rich
lady; she truly loved the Lord Jesus, and loved to do his will. So it
happened that while Mrs. Holmes sat in her attic, and begged the Lord
to send her help, that Mrs. Bertrand sat in her beautiful home, gazing
out on the blue waters, and off to the misty hills and rosy sky. Her
heart swelled with thankfulness, and she asked the Lord what to do
next for him. How easy it is for God to answer people's prayers, if
they would only believe it!
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She sat and thought a long time of different persons, wondering what
she could do for them. But the thoughts that came oftenest, and would
not go away, were of poor sick little Nettie, and her sad young
mother.
"Yes, I'll do it," she said; "I wonder I had not thought of it
before." Then she went to her writing desk, and wrote a letter and
sent it off.
Now let us go and hear it read.
"A letter for me!" said Mrs. Holmes. "How strange! Who would write to
_me_?"
The letter was from Mrs. Bertrand, and it said: "I want you and Nettie
to come right away and spend the summer with me. I am sure the fresh
air will cure her." But that was not all. There was money enough sent
to pay their expenses, and buy them each a traveling dress, and some
other things.
I can't tell you much about how Nettie screamed for joy, and how her
mother cried, then both laughed, and both cried; but I know that not
long after two very happy beings dressed in gray, took the morning
boat and were brought safely to Mrs. Bertrand's door. Then how they
rode and sailed, and took long rambles, and gathered flowers, and
thought the time spent in sleep was wasted.
The favorite seat was in the balcony, where Nettie could watch the
sea-gulls come and go, and where you may see them all this minute,
Nettie, and her mother, and Mrs. Betrand, with her basket of flowers.
Nettie's cheeks are getting round and rosy, and it is hard to say who
is happiest of them all; but Mrs. Bertrand must be, because you know
it says: "It is more blessed to give than to receive."
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