Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: "OH, ROBIN, HOW COULD YOU BE SO WICKED?" SHE CRIED.]
CORRIE
BY
RUTH LYNN
AUTHOR OF
"CITY SPARROWS," "THE MYSTERIOUS LOCKET,"
ETC.
LONDON:
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
4 BOUVERIE STREET AND 65 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, E.C.4
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
CONTENTS
[Illustration]
CHAP.
I. WHY THE BELLS SANG
II. A WALK IN THE WOOD
III. A RAINBOW IN THE NURSERY
IV. FATHER CHRISTMAS
V. THE GARDENER'S LESSON
VI. A TEMPTING BAIT
VII. THE BROKEN VASE
VIII. THE BIRTHDAY QUEEN
IX. CAUGHT!
X. SET FREE!
XI. FOREST LODGE
XII. CONCLUSION
CORRIE
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I
WHY THE BELLS SANG
TIRRA-ling-a-ting-ding-dong!—Sang the bells, and the stars sparkled
in the sky. The silver moonlight shone down softly on the streets of
the city, making the weathercock on the blackened steeple glitter like
gold, and throwing a tender radiance on the resting-places of the dead
beneath. Silently the light stole along the street like the touch of an
angel's wing, while the footsteps that sounded sharply on the smooth
pavement told that rest comes late to many of earth's toiling ones in
the busy town.
The bright patches on walls and roof still crept on, till the light
shone straight down into one of the windows, as if moon and stars had
an especial errand in there. And so they had; for there was no candle,
and the small fire, though burning clear and red, did not flame, so the
moonbeams came in and did duty for both.
They lighted up Corrie's bright curls as she lay quietly hugged in
Robin's arms, and showed him the smiles on her pretty pale face as he
talked to her in a low tone.
"Hark! Corrie! Do you hear the bells?"
"Pretty bells," whispered Corrie; "why do they ring to-night?"
"Because Christmas is coming, Corrie, and the ringers want to practise
so that the bells may sing prettily on Christmas morning."
"Do they sing words, Robin?"
"Yes, I think so, Corrie, but it is not everybody that hears them; they
are telling about Jesus Christ and the angels. You might think they
would get tired of saying it over and over again; but you know, every
year there are more little babies born who have never heard about it
before; and so they will always sing."
"What is the story, Robin?"
"Why, it begins about when the dear Lord Jesus lived up in heaven with
His Father and the angels. Look! Corrie! At the twinkling stars, how
they shine! That is only a little peep of the glory and beauty of the
happy home above the bright blue sky."
"Shall we go to that home some day, Robin? You and I and mother?"
"Yes, darling little sister, we shall, for Jesus has promised to take
us there; and He always does what He says."
As the boy whispered this, a rush of hot tears came into his eyes, for
he could not help thinking that the time might not be so very far off
for Corrie, his poor little ailing sister, who had never known how to
use her small feet: they did not seem to belong to her at all. For,
alas! both legs were quite paralysed and helpless. All day long she had
to sit motionless in her chair, or make feeble efforts to creep about
on the floor. Robin knew he could never see her playing with other
children of her own age among the daisied meadows out beyond the smoky
town.
When she was a baby-child, he used to carry her out of doors for long
distances, to let her breathe the pure country air. But at last the
weight became too much for even his patient loving strength. And now,
although she was four years old, there was no improvement in the state
of her health. The doctor had told mother yesterday she would be a
cripple all her life. This was why the boy's tears fell on Corrie's
silky hair to-night; but he brushed them away, and went on with the
story as the child nestled closer in his embrace—
"The holy angels live up there," he continued, "and we shall see them
all some day; and you will never cry any more, Corrie, when you get
there, because Jesus is going to take away everybody's pain."
Corrie gave a sigh of relief.
"Please go on," she pleaded.
"I heard a great deal about it from teacher last Sunday," continued
Robin; "she said she was going to tell us a Christmas story, that we
might think about it on Christmas Eve; so I listened to every word,
that I might be able to tell you."
A transient smile flitted across the face made wan and small through
suffering, and one white thin hand was raised to stroke Robin's cheek.
He kissed it, and went on—
"She told us first about the shepherds. They were the men who took care
of the sheep and lambs, you know. And in that far country where they
lived, there were wild beasts—wolves and foxes—who used to prowl about
at night round the fold; so the shepherds lighted fires to frighten
them away. No harm could happen while they kept guard. Who is the Good
Shepherd, who always takes care of us?"
"Jesus," murmured the child.
"Yes, Corrie; and He is the best of all, because He never sleeps, but
is always looking at the little ones who love Him and try to please
Him. Well, these good men sat talking together that Christmas time so
long ago, when all of a sudden a very bright light shone round them—a
light brighter than the brightest sunshine; they could not look at it,
it was so dazzling. It was a peep at glory—glory, Corrie, that you sing
about in the hymn."
"What did the shepherds say, Robin?" asked Corrie, with an earnest look
in her dark eyes.
"They did not say anything, for they were dreadfully frightened; but
while they were wondering where the beautiful light came from, a holy
angel began speaking to them; and what do you think he said?"
"What?" said Corrie, with parted eager lips.
"Teacher gave us the words to learn; so I can tell you exactly without
looking in the Bible. The angel said, 'Fear not: for, behold, I bring
you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto
you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour which is Christ
the Lord.' That night, little sister, while they had been watching the
sheep, a baby had been born in a stable where the cows were feeding.
The grand people would not let them come into the inn; there was no
room there; so the King of Glory was laid in a common stable, with the
oxen feeding round Him."
"Did they go to find Him, Robin?"
"Yes, they went at once; and when they saw the baby, they knew they
were looking at the promised Saviour, whom they had read about and
expected. He had come into the world to save poor sinners by washing
them white in His precious blood; and they longed to tell everybody the
good news. That is why we may be glad too, because we love Him as the
shepherds did; and we know He loves us. We can sing—
"'I am so glad that Jesus loves me.'"
"Yes, I do love Him," said Corrie, stretching out her arms. "I do, very
very much. I wish He would take me home to live in heaven now; I want
to see His face."
"So you will some day, darling," answered Robin, clasping her tighter.
"But you know we can be His servants here on earth; He has got work for
each of us to do."
"Work for me, Robin! Oh, what is it? What can I do for the dear Lord
Jesus?"
"You can try to bear your bad pain patiently, dear little sister, for
His sake, and not be cross and fretful, to worry poor mother when she
is busy. The best work of all is, I think, to see how happy you can
be, because then you make everybody else happy. Oh, this will be the
brightest Christmas we have ever had! We have got so many things to
make us glad, Corrie."
Yet, looking into that dismal room with its scanty furniture, how few
would have said that! True, everything was clean, from the boarded
floor to the cracked cups and saucers neatly arranged on a shelf. But
poor Robin knew well there was only just enough to make both ends meet,
as his mother said. And it was indeed a hard struggle to the poor
widow, ever toiling, never resting from Monday morning to Saturday
night. But the peace of God was in that dwelling; and where that light
shines, it can never be all dark.
"There is mother!" cried Robin, rising gently, to lay Corrie in the
sort of sofa he had made for her by tying two old chairs together and
placing cushions on them.
"Oh, mother! Why did you carry that heavy basket? I could have fetched
it in the truck."
The poor woman set down her load on the floor with a sigh of relief,
and sank down on the nearest chair. Yet her white face had a smile for
her two children, as the boy, having lighted a candle, put his arm
round her neck.
"I shall be better presently, after a cup of tea. Good Robin, to have
the kettle boiling! I am so tired! You will have to go out to Oaklands,
my son, the first thing to-morrow morning. The family has returned, and
Jonathan spoke for me, and got the washing promised; so that will be a
good bit for us this winter, as there are some children."
"All right, mother; I'll be off as early as you please. Why, it will be
Christmas Eve! What shall we do to keep Christmas this year?"
"I don't know, my boy. We must be content with such things as we have,
and make the best of them. The Lord never forgets us."
"Mother, the grand rich people do something on Christmas Eve to keep
it, don't they?"
"Oh yes; when I lived at Oaklands long ago, as nurse, we had fine
doings there. There was always a Christmas tree, and all sorts of games
and fun; but that is only for rich people, Robin."
"Yes, I suppose so, mother; but how I wish Corrie could see something
like that; I should like her to have a Christmas tree of her own. And
why not?" he added, at seeing his mother shake her head.
He ran off to do a household errand in an adjoining street. "I must
think of something to make this Christmas a very happy one for poor
little Corrie, because she has so few things to make her glad!"
And Robin gave sundry leaps in the air as scheme after scheme presented
itself, for he felt quite sure he could manage something for her.
Corrie! It was always Corrie in Robin's heart; and if he could only
succeed now and then in letting bright glints of sunshine into that
little shaded life, there was not a happier boy in the town. Ah! Yes,
because he possessed the secret of true happiness, which consists in
finding no time to think about self. Only those know this secret who,
by the Holy Spirit, have been led to give their hearts to Jesus. He
then teaches them to be like Him, when He walked about as the tender
gentle Healer and Helper on this sorrow-laden earth. Robin prayed to
Him every day to teach him to do His will; and Jesus will help you too,
my readers, if you ask Him.