_THE RAG CUSHION._
"Well, Agnes?" said John, one sombre afternoon soon after Christmas, as
the brothers and sisters gathered round the fire with a heap of nuts
each, which they intended to enjoy.
"Well?" echoed Agnes.
"Now for the stories of the other puddings."
"Oh, very well," said Agnes; "to resume, then."
* * * * *
"After we had left Mrs. Freeman's door, Minnie and I went a little
further up the street. We were not sorry, I assure you, to get rid of
our first heavy parcel, for our arms ached with it. At last, in the
wind, and rain, and darkness, we found the house where Mrs. Hales has
her home. This, you must know, consists of one little stuffy room on the
second floor.
"We groped our way up the dark staircase, and, after some fumbling, we
found the door of the back room and knocked at it.
"A feeble voice bade us 'Come in,' and we found ourselves in the
presence of the dear old woman.
"'Well, my dear,' she said, holding out her thin hand, 'so you've come,
like a Christmas blessing, to see me.'
"We sat down by her, Minnie holding the parcel in her lap. I was quite
used, as you know, to her ways, so let her take her own plan, as on
other days. She was seated in a high-backed chair, with an old shawl
tucked behind her head as a support, and her feet resting on a small
wooden box in front of the very tiniest fire you ever did see.
"She seemed very silent after the first greeting; so, as Minnie was most
impatient to open our package, I asked her if she felt equal to looking
at what we had brought for her.
"She assented, and Minnie's little eager fingers soon untied the
strings, and presented your bright cushion, John and Hugh.
"Her poor pale face smiled when she saw it, and she asked me to draw out
the old shawl, and replace it by the cushion.
"'And now the shawl will do for my knees,' she said, 'which do feel the
cold very much.'
"'And here is a little Christmas pudding for you, and a tin of groats,
and a trifle to buy some coals with, and a text.'
"'My dear,' she said, 'you are very loving, and the Lord is very
loving, and He has sent me just what I wanted most, and that's the way
with the Lord, my dear. He knows about us--just all about us. He knows
my head has been weary enough without a cushion; He knows my knees have
been cold; He knows I wanted some gruel; and when He brings me near
enough to Him to say from my heart--truly, my dear, from my very
heart--"Dear Lord, I'm willing to wait Thy time, Thou knowest best for
me"--then, my dear, He lovingly sends you round (you don't mind my
saying _He_ sent you, my dear) with just the very things of all others I
wanted. He's a _dear_ Lord.'
"There were tears on her wrinkled cheeks as she laid her hand on
Minnie's little one, which rested on her knee.
"'Here's the text,' said Minnie, holding up the one you painted for her,
John.
"'My God shall supply all your need, according to His riches in glory by
Christ Jesus.'
"'Ah, my dear,' she continued, 'and it isn't only our needs for this
world. We are very apt to think, all of us, that it means food, and
clothes, and fire; but it don't, my dear--not only that--it's that He
supplies _everything_--He supplies grace to bear, patience to wait,
faith to trust, and hope to look forward to the time when we shall be
with Him for ever.'
"She looked up now, beyond the walls of the little room, beyond the
dingy paper, on to the everlasting Home which is coming to all who wait
for Him.
"When she brought her mind back, as it were, from these thoughts, I
asked her if she could bear two or three nails driven in somewhere. She
looked a little surprised, but I produced Hugh's little hammer, and soon
had put her text where she could see it without turning her poor head.
Then I drew forth from the bottom of the parcel the unworn end of our
old wool door-mat, and with her permission nailed it securely to the top
of her wooden footstool, and when we had seen her with great
satisfaction place her feet upon it again, we left her, while we
retraced our steps homewards, the Christmas bells ringing in my ears all
the way with these words borne upon them, 'My God shall supply all your
need--all your need--all your need.'"
"Who thought of the piece of old mat for her stool?" asked Hugh.
"I think I did," said Agnes. "I was reading to her one day, when I
noticed how thin her shoes were, and how comfortless the old box looked.
But she never repines; though she has only that little miserable room,
which she never leaves, she says not a word, but is always full of
thanksgiving for her many mercies."
"I believe the less people have the more grateful they are," said Alice.
"I don't see that at all!" exclaimed Hugh. While Agnes said:
"Oh, no! that isn't it, Alice. But sometimes, when people lose all
earthly possessions, they are brought to seek that great heavenly
possession which makes up for every other loss. That's what it is."
"Then the humdrum people who are just comfortable don't get such a good
chance as the poor ones, according to you, Agnes," Hugh observed.
She shook her head, smiling. "Sometimes they have to lose something they
value very much before they can be brought to receive the great
possession."
"What sort of thing?" asked Hugh quickly.
"I do not know," answered Agnes thoughtfully. "Each one of us values
some one thing more than another; and if we love it better than Him, it
will have to go."
"But what, Agnes? Can't you say the kind of things?"
"Our own way sometimes," she answered slowly, "that's often hardest of
all; at least to some people."
"Yes," said Hugh, laughing a little; "some of us always do think we know
best."
At this moment a diversion occurred.
"You're wanted in the drawing-room, Master Hugh," said the maid;
"there's the same young gentleman that came on Christmas-day, and his
sister."
Hugh turned very red, and was hastening away, when he came back to say,
"Agnes, come and help a fellow, will you?"
Agnes followed him upstairs, wondering what they had come for.
"Good afternoon, Miss Headley," said the young lady, bending, but not
offering her hand. "My brother asked me to come and intercede with you
to allow your young people to join our little party next week?"
"I?" echoed Agnes, surprised. "I really did not know they were asked.
Hugh, did you forget to tell me?"
Agnes felt uncomfortable, and wished Hugh had explained before they came
up.
"Well, no," answered Hugh; "I told Tom we couldn't come."
"He said," answered Miss Radnor, "that he was sure his sister would not
approve."
"It would have been better for Hugh to have asked me," answered Agnes;
"but now will you kindly tell me what it is you wish?"
Miss Radnor looked as if it were all a great bore, but answered
politely:
"Tom has set his heart on having Hugh and his two younger sisters to his
party next week. Will you allow them to come? I believe they are to
refer to you, as their parents are away."
"Thank you very much," said Agnes, hesitating a little, "you are very
kind, but I believe my father would prefer our declining."
"But why?" asked the girl; "I really cannot take no for an answer."
"I should not feel at liberty to make any fresh acquaintances while our
parents are away."
"How ridiculous! How can a schoolfellow be a fresh acquaintance?"
"I am sorry to seem discourteous," said Agnes gently; "but I know my
parents' feelings on these subjects, and must beg you to excuse us till
their return."
"Oh, just as you like, _of course_," said the girl, rising; "I don't
think we should have done your charge any harm."
"I am sure you would not mean to," answered Agnes gravely--so gravely
that Miss Radnor flushed angrily.
"Are we such undesirable acquaintances?"
"I did not mean that," answered Agnes, raising her eyes steadily, "but
it is so difficult in these days to keep in the path----"
"What path?" she asked impatiently.
"The narrow path that leadeth to Life," Agnes answered very low. "Do not
be vexed with me, we are strangers, and may never meet again; but we do
want to keep in that, cost what it may."
Miss Radnor laughed haughtily. "I had no idea you were so religious!"
she exclaimed. "I beg your pardon for coming; good-day."
With that she swept out of the room, followed by Tom, who only gave Hugh
a passing grimace, which Hugh was at a loss to interpret. Did it mean
sympathy with him, or with his sister?
"Hugh," said Agnes, "you should have told me."
"I never thought there would be another word. What a hateful girl,
Agnes."
"I do not suppose she is; though I can't say I admired her."
"She looked round on all our things as though they were dirt!"
"Nonsense. But I daresay she is richer than we are."
"Oceans! They have twice as big a house."
"And half as big hearts perhaps," laughed Agnes. "Oh, Hugh, I pity that
poor Tom."
"So do I, now I see what sort of a sister he's got. But he doesn't think
her bad; he told me she was 'a stunner.'"
"I daresay. Well dear, are you satisfied with what I said? I wish I had
said it better."
Hugh kissed her. "I couldn't have had half the courage you had," he
answered; "and they'll be all the better for it some day, depend upon
it. Don't look downhearted, you're a dear old girl."
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