""Tisn"t only as I have a tidy dress now, and a clean room, and better food, but "tis the inside of me as is different. Instead of frettin"
over the little money I"ve got, she"s taught me to make the most of it; and instead of being cross, and tired, and miserable, she"s taught me as there is One above as cares for me, and will bear my burdens and lighten "em, and comfort and cheer me into the bargain. There! if ye don"t think that"s enough to make a body grateful, I don"t know what is."
"Is that mo"ver-Meg," asked d.i.c.kie, "as you"re talkin" on?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Seymour, softly. "She"s a dear mother-Meg, isn"t she?"
"Cherry and me"s goin" to stay "long of her," he said, addressing himself to Mrs. Blunt.
"I know you are. You"re happy children."
Cherry smiled brightly; and then Mrs. Blunt, having said her say, bethought herself of her children and hurried away, only pausing at the door to say, "T"other one"s cut out, and we"ll make it as soon as we can; only to-morrer"s Sunday."
Yes, to-morrow was Sunday; and in the afternoon the little coffin was carried away and laid in the cold ground; while Meg, shedding no more tears, but full of peace, listened to Cherry"s musical voice. Though she was very small for her age, she was a good scholar, and read fluently.
Meg had chosen the account, in the eleventh chapter of John, of the Lord"s sympathy: how He waited, that He might bless the more abundantly; how He wept, showing Himself the comforter of all who mourn; how He raised the dead, and gave precious promises of everlasting life to all who believe in Him.
Cherry and Meg, both mourning, and both needing the Heavenly food which should sustain their souls, found in that chapter, and above all in that beloved Saviour of whom the chapter treats, the rest and comfort that they needed.
When Jem came back from seeing the earth laid over his child, he met the glance of Meg"s serene eyes and wondered.
She held out her hand and clasped his.
"Jem," she said, "come and read this over again to us, and then you"ll get comforted, as we have been."
So Jem sat down and read it all through again, and got lifted, as they had been, from the dark grave to the bright sky, where He dwells "who liveth, and was dead," and is "alive for evermore."
[Ill.u.s.tration]
[Ill.u.s.tration]
CHAPTER XVI.
"THEY SHALL SEE HIS FACE."
As long as Meg was not well enough to get up, d.i.c.kie kept his resolve of staying in bed too.
Whether he had an undefined feeling that he was safer there, no one could guess; but whenever Mrs. Seymour or Cherry tried to coax him to be dressed, he always shook his head and answered,
"I "ike to stay "long of mo"ver--Meg."
One day Meg, thinking of all this, said to him, "d.i.c.kie, I"m going into the other room to-day. Cherry has made it all ready for me, and I"m going to have tea with Jem."
d.i.c.kie was silent, but his lip trembled. So Meg quickly went on,
"Shall I ask Cherry to dress you, dearie, so as to be up to tea with father-Jem too?"
"I can"t wun about," said d.i.c.kie despondently.
"But you can sit by me," returned Meg; "and father-Jem has a secret for you."
"Has he?" asked d.i.c.kie, looking interested.
"Did you not hear him hammering and planeing in the other room?"
d.i.c.kie nodded. "Were that the secret?"
"I think so; would you not like to be dressed and see?"
Cherry stood looking on, and now added her persuasions; and d.i.c.kie, in hopes of finding out "the secret," allowed himself to be arrayed in his clothes, which, under Mrs. Seymour"s soap and water and skilful fingers, could hardly be recognized for the same old garments which he had left off.
Cherry too had been busy, and with Mrs. Seymour"s direction had made him two brown holland pinafores which covered patches with clean neatness.
"Oh, d.i.c.kie!" exclaimed his sister, kissing him impulsively, "I never did see you look so nice since before mother was ill."
"That he does," said Meg, smiling. "Now brush his hair, dear, and then he can sit on your lap till I am ready."
It was a mild, sunshiny day in April when Meg first walked into her sitting-room.
Cherry had been busy making everything as cosy as she could devise, and Meg looked round with satisfaction.
"You have been clever, Cherry," she said.
"Mrs. Seymour says I shall be very useful if I take pains," answered Cherry, "and I have been trying very hard to, mother-Meg, because I do eat so much."
Cherry said this with compunction, and Meg laughed a little.
"Never mind that, dear. While I have been lying still I"ve been thinking of a lot of things you might do to get a little living."
"Have you?" asked Cherry, sitting down by the fire with d.i.c.kie on her knee.
"Yes; you might help mother with her washing sometimes; or you could learn to do nice needle-work. I mean to write to Mrs. MacDonald and ask her if she wants any done."
"I did learn to work when I was at school," said Cherry.
"You see, Cherry," pursued Meg, "it is not that we would not keep you altogether if you needed it, or it were right; but it will be much better and happier for you to have something to do; and then if you could earn enough to get some neat clothes and put a little by, how nice that would be."
d.i.c.kie grew tired of this talk, and asked if his secret was going to be told.
Meg took him on her lap, and as he nestled his soft curls against her, she explained to him that they must wait till father-Jem came home.
Just as she was saying this the doctor"s quick rap was heard at their door, and he entered at once.
"I am late, Mrs. Seymour," he said; "but I waited till the pressure of my work was over, because I want to have a good look at this little fellow"s eyes. Does he never try to use them?"
"No," answered Meg; "he seems to dread the light so much."