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“I do b'lieve,” said Marty one day, after she had been a member of the mission-band for several months, “I do b'lieve that hearing so much about the poor little children in India and China and those places, and trying to do something to help them, makes me feel far more like helping poor children here at home. Now, there's Jennie—I know I shouldn't have thought much about her if I hadn't been thinking of those far-away children.”
This was after she had made some sacrifices for the benefit of poor little Jennie, and this is the way she first came to know of her.
When the spring house-cleaning was going on, Mrs. Ashford's regular helper one day could not come and sent another woman. In the evening when Mrs. Ashford went into the kitchen to pay this Mrs. Scott for her day's work, Marty, who had a great habit of following her mother around the house, went also. Mrs. Scott had just finished her supper, and after receiving her money and replying to Mrs. Ashford's pleasant remarks, she said hesitatingly,pointing to a saucer of very fine canned peaches which was part of her supper, but which she had apparently only tasted, “Please, mem, may I take them splendid peaches home to my sick little girl? She can't eat nothin' at all hardly, and she would relish them, I know. If you'd jist give me the loan of an old bowl or somethin—”
“Oh! have you a sick child?” said Mrs. Ashford sympathizingly. “She shall certainly have some peaches, but you must eat those yourself. Katie, get—”
“Oh! no, mem,” protested Mrs. Scott, “that's too much like beggin'. I jist wanted to take mine to her.”
“No, it isn't begging at all,” said Mrs. Ashford. “I'm very glad you told me about your little girl. Katie, fill one of those small jars with peaches.”
Then Mrs. Ashford went into the pantry, and returning with two large oranges and some Albert biscuit, asked,
“Can you carry these also?”
Mrs. Scott was full of thanks, and said she knew such nice things would do Jennie a world of good.
“I can make enough to keep her warm in winter and get her plain vittles, but it isn't at all what she ought to have now, I know,” she said sorrowfully.
Mrs. Ashford asked what was the matter with Jennie and how long she had been ill. Mrs. Scott replied that she had hurt her back more than a year ago; and though she had been “doctored” then and appeared to get a little better, since they moved to their present abode—for they came from a distant town—she had become worse and was now not able to walk at all, but was obliged to lie in bed, sometimes suffering much pain.
“How was she hurt?” Mrs. Ashford inquired.
“She fell down the stair,” was all the reply given, but Katie said afterward that she had heard that Jennie was thrown or pushed down stairs by her drunken father. She said poor Mrs. Scott had had a very hard life with this shiftless, drunken husband, who abused her and the children. All the children were dead now except Jennie, who was about a year older than Marty, and early in the winter “old Scott,” as Katie called him, died himself from the effects of a hurt received in a fight while “on a spree.” As Mrs. Scott had been ill part of the winter and unable to work much, she had got behind with her rent, and altogether had been having a very hard time.
Marty was very much interested in what Mrs. Scott said, and asked a question or two on her own account.
“Who stays with your little girl when you are away?”
“Bless your sweet eyes! nobody stays with her. She just lies there her lone self, unless some of the other children in the house run in and out, but mostly she doesn't want their noise.”
“How long has she been in bed?”
“Most of the time for eight months, miss,” replied the poor mother with a sigh.
“Doesn't she ever sit up in the rocking-chair?”
“We have no rocking-chair, but sometimes when I go home from work, or the days I have no work, I hold her in my arms a bit to rest her.”
“Has she got anything to amuse her?”
“Yes, she has a picture-book I got her last Christmas.”
“Mamma!” exclaimed Marty, as soon as the door closed behind Mrs. Scott, “just think of lying in bed since Christmas, and now it's the first of May, with nothing butonepicture-book!”
“Ah! Marty,” said her mother, “there are many people in the world who have very hard times.”
“Well, I don't know them all, and I couldn't help them all if I did; but I feel that I know Jennie real well, and mayn't I give her someof my books and playthings? a whole lot, so that she wont be so lonesome when her mother's away.”
“I was thinking of going to see her soon, and if you wish you may go too and carry her a picture-book or something of the sort.”
Marty in her usual wholesale way would have carried half her possessions to Jennie, but Mrs. Ashford prevailed upon her to limit her gift to a small book and a few bright cards.
“You would better see Jennie first,” she said. “She may not care for books and may be too miserable to care much for playthings.”
It happened the day they fixed upon to go Mrs. Ashford brought home from market a small measure of strawberries, though they were yet somewhat expensive. Marty, seeing them on the lunch-table, nearly went wild over them, being very fond of the fruit, but her mother noticed that after she was served she barely tasted them, and then sat with the spoon in her hand gravely thinking.
“Don't you like them after all, Marty?”
“O mamma, they're perfectly delicious! I was just thinking how good they would taste to Jennie. Can't we take her some of them?”
“I am afraid there are none to spare. You know Katie must have some, and I want to save a few for your papa.”
“I might take her mine,” said Marty slowly. “I've only eaten one.” But she looked at the berries longingly.
“That would be too much of a sacrifice, I fear,” said Mrs. Ashford, “but I'll tell you what we will do if you are willing. You set yours aside for Jennie and I will give you half of mine, and then we will all have some.”
Marty was afraid it would not be fair to have her mother make a sacrifice also, but Mrs. Ashford declared she should like it of all things, and was very glad Marty had thought of taking some berries to Jennie.
So the strawberries were put in a basket with two glasses of jelly, some nice rusks that Katie was famous for making, and a closely-covered dish of chicken broth. Marty had her parcel ready, and they set out on their expedition.
When they reached the house and knocked at the door of the room Mrs. Scott had directed them to, a weak but shrill voice cried out, “Come!”
They entered a neat but poorly furnished room, of which the only occupant was a pale, thin girl, lying in what appeared to be a very uncomfortable position in bed.
“I suppose you are Jennie,” said Mrs. Ashford, with her pleasant smile.
“Yes, ma'am,” answered the girl, staring.
“I am Mrs. Ashford. My little girl and I have come to see you.”
Jennie probably had few visitors, and she certainly did not know how to treat them. She did not ask her present ones to be seated, and merely continued to stare at them as well as she could stare in the doubled-up way she was lying.
“Your mother is out to-day, is she?” said Mrs. Ashford.
“Yes, but she's only gone for half a day. She ought to be home now,” and then the poor child broke into a whining cry, saying,
“I wish she'd come and fix me, for I'm all slid down, and give me some dinner.”
It is very hard to be polite and pleasant when you are faint, sick, and generally miserable.
“Wont you let me fix you?” asked Mrs. Ashford. She put the basket on the table, and taking off her gloves, approached the bed.
“Now, Marty,” she said, “as I raise Jennie, you beat up the pillows.”
Marty beat them with a will, and the sick girl was soon comfortably placed. She appeared greatly relieved and sighed from satisfaction. Mrs. Ashford, seeing a tin plate on the shelf, covered it with one of the napkins from her basket, and placing on it the small glass saucer of strawberries and a rusk, gave it to Marty tocarry to Jennie. The wan face of the invalid flushed with pleasure when she saw the dainty food.
“For me!” she exclaimed.
“Of course it's for you,” replied Marty, settling the plate on the bed.
Just then Mrs. Scott entered, almost breathless from her hurried walk, having been detained, and knowing Jennie would need her. She was exceedingly grateful when she found Mrs. Ashford and Marty ministering to her sick child.
“O mother!” cried the latter. “The lady lifted me up in bed; and see the strawberries! Some are for you.”
“No, no,” protested her mother, but Jennie persisted in forcing at least one upon her. When Marty saw how the berries were enjoyed she felt very well repaid for having been satisfied with a smaller portion herself.
Mrs. Ashford inquired what had been done for Jennie, and found she had had no doctor since coming to the city.
“I have no money to pay a doctor,” said poor Mrs. Scott, wiping her eyes, “and I can't go to a stranger and ask him to attend her for nothing. I give her the medicine the doctor told me to get when she was first hurt, but it don't seem to do any good now.”
Mrs. Ashford said she would speak to a doctor not far from there, with whom she was well acquainted, and she was sure he would be willing to come and see what could be done for the child.
“It is very hard that you have to be away from her so much, when she is sick, and almost helpless.”
“It is hard, mem, but what can I do? I must work to pay the rent and get us bread, and glad enough I am to have the work. And she's not always so forlorn as you found her, for mostly she can move herself. She's a bit weak to-day. Then when I go for all day, I leave things handy on a chair by the bed, and the people in the house are real kind, coming in to see if she wants anything and to mend the fire.”
In the meantime the children were not saying much, for Jennie, besides being somewhat shy, appeared tired and weak. She was greatly pleased with the book and cards, holding them tenderly in her hands. Marty sat in silence a while, and then asked,
“Have you a doll?”
“No,” replied Jennie. “I never had one.”
“Never in your whole life!” exclaimed Marty, extremely astonished.
“No,” said Jennie quietly. “But wunst we lived next door to a girl who had one, and sometimesshe let me hold it. It was the very beautifulest kind of a doll,Ithink,” she added with great animation: “had light curly hair and big blue eyes.”
Marty was so overcome that she could do nothing but stand and gaze at the little girl who never had a doll, and nothing more was said until her mother was ready to go home.
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On their way home Mrs. Ashford stopped at Dr. Fisher's, and finding him in his office, made her plea, and readily obtained his promise to see Jennie.
All the way Marty was unusually silent and appeared to be thinking intently. When they were nearly home she said impressively,
“Mamma, do you know, Jennie never had a doll—never in her whole life!”
“Indeed!”
“No, ma'am; and I've been thinking I'd like to give her one of mine.”
“Do you think you could part with any of yours?”
“I love them all dearly, but I think Icoulddo it to make Jennie happy. I know she'd like to have a doll, and it would be a long time before I could save money enough to buy her one.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Ashford, “I'm sure she would be very happy with one of yours, but you had better take time to think it over well, and not do anything you would afterward regret.”
Marty thought it over until the next evening,and then said she still wished to give Jennie the doll.
“Very well, then,” said her mother, “I am willing you should do it. Which doll do you think of giving her?”
“Laura Amelia.”
“Why, she is your third largest and one of your prettiest! Why do you choose her?”
“Because Jennie would like a fair doll, and she's the only fair one I have except the one Grandma Brewster gave me, and I shouldn't like to give that away.” And then she repeated what Jennie had said about the next-door girl's doll.
So it was settled that Laura Amelia was to leave home the next Saturday. Her clothes were put in good order, and Mrs. Ashford made her a travelling dress.
On Friday night when Marty, in her little wrapper and worsted slippers, made her appearance at the sitting-room door to say “Good-night,” she had Laura Amelia clasped in her arms.
“Halloa! Miss Moppet,” said her papa. “Are you off? What's the matter with that dolly? Do you have to walk her to sleep?”
“Oh, no. She's very good, but she's going to sleep with me, because it's the last night she'll be here.”
Marty tried to reply steadily, but her voice trembled.
“Ah!” said her papa sympathizingly. “Where is she going?”
“I'm going to give her to Jennie.”
Of course Mr. Ashford had heard all about Jennie. He approved of her being helped, but did not like to see Marty in distress, and he noticed her eyes were full of tears.
“It is a shame for the child to give away playthings she is fond of,” he said to his wife.
“I didn't tell her to give it,” replied Mrs. Ashford. “It was her own notion.”
“Here, Marty,” said her father, putting his hand in his pocket, “you keep that doll yourself and I'll give you some money to get Jennie another one.”
“Oh! no, papa,” said Marty earnestly. “Thank you ever so much, but I want to give Jennie a doll all myself, and I've quite made up my mind to give her this one. I thought it over a whole day—didn't I, mamma? You mustn't s'pose I don'twantto give Laura Amelia to Jennie, because I do, but you know such things make one feel a little sad for a while.”
“I presume they do,” said Mr. Ashford, smiling as he lifted both Marty and the doll to his knee. “How many dolls have you?”
“Seven, counting the two little china ones.”
“Well, that's a pretty numerous family for one small girl to care for. I guess you can spare Lucy Aurelia.”
“Lucy Aurelia!” Marty laughed heartily. “O papa, what is the reason you never can remember my dolls' names?”
“I don't see how you can remember them yourself.” Then as he kissed her goodnight he said,
“I am glad my little girl is learning to be kind to the poor and friendless.”
The next day there was some prospect that Marty would not get to Jennie's after all, as Mrs. Ashford could not very well go with her and would not let her go alone. Marty was preparing to be dreadfully disappointed, but her mother said, “Wait until after lunch and we will see what can be done.”
Just then there was a tap at the door, and a tall, dark-eyed, smiling young lady entered.
“Why, here's Cousin Alice!” exclaimed Marty, and the warm welcome the visitor received from them all showed what a favorite she was.
“I've come to stay to lunch if you will have me,” she announced, throwing her wrap and gloves on the couch. Marty immediately invited her to stay for ever, and Freddie beganbuilding a wall with his blocks all around her chair so that she could not possibly get away.
“Alice,” said Mrs. Ashford, after there had been a good deal of talk and play, “I am going to ask you to do something for me.”
“I shall be only too happy to do it, Cousin Helen,” said Miss Alice in her bright way. “You have only to speak.”
“Marty wants to do an errand down near the old postoffice this afternoon. I don't like to have her go into that part of the town by herself, and I can't go with her. Would you be willing to go with her?”
“Most certainly,” was the cordial reply.
“Oh! that will be splendid,” cried Marty.
Then both she and her mother proceeded to tell their cousin all about Jennie, after which Marty dressed the doll and packed its clothes in a box.
“What a good idea it is of Marty's to give that doll and all its belongings to Jennie!” said Miss Alice. “It will be such amusement and occupation for her when she is alone so much. It must be perfectly dreadful to lie there all day, and day after day, with nothing to do and nothing to interest her. I suppose she cannot read.”
“Not very well, I fancy, for her mother said they had moved about so much before she was hurt that she had very little chance to go toschool. I suppose there is really not much of anything she could do now, as she is so weak and miserable, but it has just occurred to me that if she gets stronger under Dr. Fisher's treatment, you might help her to a light, pleasant occupation which would enliven her dull life.”
“I? How? I'm sure I should be very glad to do anything possible for the poor girl.”
“You might teach her to crochet or knit. You do such work to perfection and know so much about it. I know you have plenty of odds and ends of worsted and other materials, and I can furnish you with a good deal more. If she is able to learn, I think it would be a charming work for her, and might be very useful in coming years.”
“That is an excellent suggestion. I shall be very glad to teach her, or at least try to teach her, for I don't know how I should succeed in the attempt.”
“Oh! you would succeed beautifully, and it need not take up much of your time, as Landis Court is nearer you than it is to us, and you could run over for a little while any time. But you can see when you go whether it is worth while to speak of the matter.”
“It would be just lovely!” was Marty's opinion.
“Now, Marty,” cautioned her mother, “don't you say anything about it to Jennie. Just let Cousin Alice do it in her own nice way.”
“A thousand thanks,” said Cousin Alice with her gay laugh. “I'll be sure to do my prettiest after that.”
When they made the visit, however, it was found useless to mention crocheting or any other subject to Jennie. Her attention was altogether absorbed by the doll. Mrs. Scott happened to be at home, and while she was bustling around getting chairs for her visitors and Marty was introducing her cousin, Jennie never took her eyes from Laura Amelia. Presently she said in a trembling voice,
“May I hold your doll a minute?”
“I brought her for you,” said Marty, handing the doll.
“For me to hold a minute?”
“No; to keep. She's your dolly now.”
Jennie looked perfectly bewildered at first, and then when she began to understand the matter she clasped the doll in her arms and burst into tears.
Marty was very much frightened. “Oh! don't let her cry,” she said to Mrs. Scott. “It will make her sick.”
“Never mind, missy; she'll soon be all right. Come now Jennie, don't cry. Sit upand thank the little lady for the beautiful present. But it's too much to give her. Who'd ha' thought of you bringing such a handsome doll! And just what she's always wanted but never looked to having. I'm sure I don't know how to thank you,” and the poor woman threatened to follow Jennie's example, and cry over their good fortune.
Then Cousin Alice came to the rescue by suggesting that Marty should tell Jennie the doll's name and show her wardrobe. The little girls were soon chattering over the contents of the box, and Miss Alice learned from Mrs. Scott that the doctor had been to see Jennie. He said he saw no reason why with proper treatment she should not become well again, though it was likely she would always be somewhat lame and perhaps never very strong. He had sent her strengthening medicine and said she must drink milk every day.
Then began better times for Jennie than she had ever had in her life before. First, as she would have said herself, there was the doll to love and cherish, to dress and undress, to talk to and to put to sleep. Then there were the books and pictures, for between Marty and Edith, who also came, her stock of them increased rapidly. Then there was the decrease of pain and the increase of strength, for what with the bathingsand rubbings that the doctor ordered, and the nourishing food that Mrs. Ashford and Miss Alice sent, she began to get greatly better.
When she arrived at the point of sitting propped up in bed for several hours at a time, Miss Alice spoke of the crocheting and found her exceedingly willing to learn. She took it up quite rapidly too, and very much enjoyed working with the bright worsteds.
Miss Alice was greatly interested in her pupil and sometimes made quite long visits, teaching her or reading to her, and her visits made the little invalid so happy that she got better all the faster.
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Marty and Edith often accompanied Miss Alice when she visited Jennie. Sometimes they each took a doll to visit Laura Amelia, also carrying some of their dishes and having a dolls' tea-party. This always pleased Jennie very much, though at first she scarcely knew how to play in this quiet, lady-like fashion, as she had only been accustomed to playing in the street with rough children before she was hurt. Of course she had had no chance at all to play during the last year.
Sometimes the girls read little stories to her. This she viewed as a surprising accomplishment, as she could only spell her way along, not being able to read well enough to enjoy it. So in one way or another they entertained her, making her forget her weakness.
Sometimes they talked about other things, telling her of the mission-band, though, as it was something so outside of her experience, she could, with all their explanation, hardly form any idea of it. She took more interest in descriptions of the country, the green fields, shadywoods, and pretty gardens. She was very fond of flowers, and during the early summer her friends kept the poor room quite bright with them. An old lady living near Mrs. Ashford, and having an unusually large yard for the city, had a great many flowers, and hearing of Marty's sick friend in Landis Court, told her whenever she was going over there to come and get some flowers for Jennie. This delighted both little girls extremely.
One day when they were all with Jennie, she picked up one of her cards that had on it a picture of a shepherd leading his flock and carrying a lamb in his arms. She wanted to know what it meant, and what a shepherd was, and what sheep were. After it had been explained, she said,
“'Shepherd' makes me think of a hymn they used to sing in the Sunday-school down in the Harbor.”
“Did you ever go to Sunday-school?” asked Marty.
“I went a little while when we lived down in the Harbor. My teacher had a lovely velvet cloak trimmed with fur.”
“Didn't she tell you about the Good Shepherd?” Edith inquired.
“No. She didn't seem to know about any kind of shepherd. Leastways she never let onthat she did. But they used to sing beautiful hymns, and one was about a shepherd.”
“Was it 'Saviour, like a shepherd lead us'?” asked Marty.
“That was the very one!” exclaimed Jennie in delight. “How did you know that was it?”
“I thought it might be.”
“Would you like to have us sing it now?” Miss Alice inquired.
“Oh, yes, indeed!”
So they sang it, Jennie joining in whenever they came to the words, “Blessed Jesus,” which, besides the first line, was all she knew.
“Is blessed Jesus a shepherd?” she asked.
“He is the Good Shepherd,” replied Edith.
“Where's his sheep?”
“All who believe on Him are his sheep, for the Bible says, 'My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.'”
Miss Alice saw that Jennie did not altogether understand Edith, so in a few simple words she explained that Jesus, our Lord and Saviour, speaks of himself as the Good Shepherd, and calls us to follow him. Then taking up the picture again she repeated what she had said about shepherds and their flocks, and also went over some of the hymn they had been singing, until Jennie began to get into her little muddled brain quite a clear idea of Jesus, our Shepherd.
“Where is your Bible? I will show you the chapter about the Good Shepherd.”
“I ha'n't got one. Mother has one, but I guess it's locked up in that little black trunk. It's a purple one with clasps that somebody gave her long ago, and she always had to keep it hid for fear papa'd sell it for whiskey.”
Jennie said all this very coolly, she was so much accustomed to the kind of life in which there was more whiskey than Bible; but Edith and Marty looked much shocked.
“Never mind,” said Miss Alice, “I will bring my Bible the next time I come and read the chapter to you.”
Just then a beautiful plan flashed into Marty's head, and as Edith was included in it, she could not resist reaching over and giving her arm a tiny squeeze. Edith must have partly understood, for she answered with a smile.
In the meantime Miss Alice was saying to Jennie,
“Did you ever hear the Psalm beginning, 'The Lord is my Shepherd'?”
“I don't b'lieve I ever did,” said Jennie.
“Marty, can't you and Edith repeat it for her?”
Marty was not sure she remembered it all, but Edith knew it, and the beautiful Psalm was reverently recited.
That evening as Mrs. Scott, wearied with the labors of the day, was seated in one of the stiff, hard chairs doing some mending by the uncertain light of a smoky lamp, Jennie told her all that had been said and done in the afternoon, and then asked,
“Mother, can't you find that about the shepherd in your purple Bible and read it over to me?”
“I'll try, but I'm a poor reader, Jennie, and anyways I don't know as I can find the place you want.”
She unlocked the trunk and bringing forth, wrapped in soft paper, an old-fashioned, small-print Bible that had once been handsome, but was now sadly tarnished, she screwed up the smoky lamp and began to turn the leaves.
“I don't know where the place is, child. I'm none so handy with books, and there's a great many different chapters here.”
“It was about green pastures and quiet waters. Miss Alice said a pasture is a field, and it minded me of that grassy field where Tim took me the summer before he died. You know there was a pond in it, and we paddled along the edge. It was the prettiest place I ever saw, and on awful hot days I wish I was there again. I think it must be just such a place the Bible shepherd takes his folks to.”
Mrs. Scott turned the leaves back and forth, anxious to please Jennie, but unable to find what she wished.
“Now I mind,” exclaimed Jennie presently: “Miss Alice didn't call the green pasture piece a chapter; she called it a Psalm.”
“Oh! now I'll find it,” said her mother. “I know about Psalms, for my good old grandfather used to be always reading them, and I used to think it was queer the way they was spelt—with a 'p' at the beginning. I saw them over here a minute ago.”
Then after a little more searching she inquired,
“Is this it? 'The Lord is my Shepherd: I shall not want.'”
“The very thing!” Jennie exclaimed joyfully.
Mrs. Scott, though with some difficulty, managed to read it, while Jennie listened with closed eyes and clasped hands, thinking of the delightful places into which the Shepherd leads his flock.
“They're sweet verses,” said Mrs. Scott, as she closed the book, after laying a piece of yarn in to mark the place, “and it rests a body to read them. I call to mind now that many's the time I've heard my granddad read 'em. And I've heard 'em in church, too, when I used to go.”
“Why don't you go to church sometimes now, mother?” Jennie asked. “There's nobody to rail at you for going. You might borrow Mrs. O'Brien's bonnet after she's been to mass, and go round to the church on the front street, where we hear the singing from every Sunday.”
Mrs. Scott began to think she should like to go. She cleaned off her old black alpaca as well as possible, and the next Sunday, borrowing her kindly Catholic neighbor's bonnet, she went to church for the first time in many years.
She came home delighted, and had much to tell Jennie about the pleasant gentleman who gave her a seat and invited her to come again, about the good sermon that she could understand every bit of, and the rousing hymns, which indeed Jennie could hear with the window open.
Not long after this, one of the ladies Mrs. Scott worked for gave her a partly-worn sateen dress and a black straw bonnet, so that she was fitted out to go to church all summer; and go she did with great enjoyment. It was a pleasure to Jennie also, for with listening to the singing as she lay in bed, and hearing about all that was said and done from her mother, she almost felt as though she had been at church herself.
The purple Bible was not locked up any more, but kept handy for Miss Alice to read, and to mark passages for Mrs. Scott to read in the evening, for Jennie liked to hear the same things over and over.
The plan that popped into Marty's head that day she told to Edith on the way home, after they had left Cousin Alice.
“O Edie!” she said, “wouldn't it be nice to give Jennie a Bible for her very own?”
“You mean for you and me together to give it?” said Edith.
“Yes. You know my birthday comes in August and yours in September, and we always get some money—”
“And we could each give half, and get Jennie a Bible,” broke in Edith.
“Yes; or if wecouldn'tdo it then, we might have enough by Christmas.”
“And it would be abeautifulChristmas gift!”
“Oh! do let us do it,” said Marty, seizing Edith and whirling her around and around.
“Yes, do,” said Edith, panting for breath.
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It was well on in June, and Mrs. Ashford was very busy making preparations to go to the country with the children.
Two successive summers they had spent at a very pleasant mountain farmhouse, but the last year they had gone to the seashore. This summer Mrs. Ashford decided for the farmhouse again, to Marty's great delight, for it was a perfect paradise to her.
She herself had many preparations to make—deciding which dolls to take and which to leave at home, and getting them all ready for whatever was to be their fate. It also took a good deal of time to choose from her little library the few books her mamma allowed her to take for rainy days. It was a weighty matter, too, to select a suitable present for Evaline, the little girl at the farmhouse, as her father suggested she should do, and gave her money to buy it.
Then Jennie was very much on her mind.
“What will she do for soup and jelly and things when we are away, mamma?” she asked anxiously.
“I shall tell Katie to carry her something now and then,” Mrs. Ashford replied. “Besides, Cousin Alice will be in town until August, and she will look out for Jennie. Then Mrs. Scott told me the other day that she had got all her back rent paid up now, and she expects to have three days' work every week all summer; so they will get on very well.”
Another day Marty came home from Jennie's in distress.
“Mamma,” she said, “the doctor says Jennie may soon begin to sit up in an easy-chair; and they haven't got any. Their two chairs are the mostuneasythings I ever saw in my life. Now, how is she going to sit up?”
Mrs. Ashford laughed as she said, “Well, I was going to give you a surprise, but I may as well tell you now that I have sent that old rocking-chair that was up in the storeroom to be mended, and am going to give it to Mrs. Scott.”
Marty was overjoyed to hear this.
“And, oh! mamma, wont you give them the small table that stands in the third-story hall? You always say it is only in the way there, and it would be so nice beside Jennie's bed to put her things on, instead of a chair.”
“Yes, I suppose they might as well have it.”
“And the red cover that belongs to it, mamma?”
“O Marty, Marty!” exclaimed her mother, laughing. “How many more things will you want for Jennie? But the red cover may go too.”
These things were sent, together with some of Marty's underclothing, a pair of half-worn slippers, and a couple of Mrs. Ashford's cast-off gingham dresses, to be made into wrappers for Jennie. Edith and Cousin Alice also brought some articles for Jennie's comfort.
“She will need a footstool with that chair,” said Cousin Alice. “I have an extra hassock in my room; I'll bring that.”
Mrs. Howell sent an old but soft and pretty comfort to spread over the chair, and which would also be handy for an additional covering in case of a cold night.
“A curtain on the window would soften the light on hot afternoons,” Miss Alice thought. So she made one of some white barred muslin she had and put it up. She also thought that as Jennie still had not much appetite, some prettier dishes than those Mrs. Scott had—they were very few, and very coarse and battered—might make the food taste better.
“I know, when I am ill,” she said to Mrs. Ashford, “the way my food is served makes a great difference.”
So she brought a cheap but pretty plate, cup,and saucer, with which Jennie was extremely delighted.
“After we all go away there wont be anybody to take flowers to Jennie,” said Edith, “and I'm afraid she'll miss them. She does enjoy them so much. I've a great mind to buy her a geranium. May I, mamma? They're only ten cents.”
“Of course you may. I think it would be very nice for Jennie and her mother to have something of the kind growing in their room,” said Mrs. Howell.
She went with Edith to the florist's, and after helping her to select a scarlet geranium, she bought a pot of mignonette and another of sweet alyssum for Edith to give to Jennie.
Marty helped Edith to carry their plants to their destination, and what rejoicing there was over that window-garden!
“It's too much! too much!” exclaimed Mrs. Scott, wiping her eyes as she looked around the now really comfortable room.
Then when Miss Alice came in, as she did presently, with four bright-colored Japanese fans which she proceeded to fasten on the bare walls, that seemed to cap the climax.
“There never were kinder ladies—never!” exclaimed Mrs. Scott, while Jennie was too much overcome to say anything.
“It wont be so hard for Jennie to be shut up here, and she wont miss Marty and Edith so much, if she has these little bits of bright things to look at,” said Miss Alice.
Marty took the greatest interest in helping to arrange all these things for Jennie's comfort and happiness, and in thinking, too, how much pleasure they would bring into poor Mrs. Scott's hard-working life. When she went home after her final visit to Landis Court, she said with a sigh of relief,
“Now they're fixed comfor'ble, and we can go as soon as we like.”
All this time that she had been so engaged with Jennie she had not neglected the mission band, but attended the meetings regularly and became more and more interested in what she heard there.
She still pursued the plan of giving to missions at least a tenth of all the money she got. During the spring and early summer she had had two or three “windfalls” —one or two small presents of money, and once her father had given her a quarter for hunting out from an enormous pile certain numbers of a magazine he wished to consult. Besides she had made a little money solely for the missionary-box by hemming dusters for her mother.
The meeting on the third Saturday in Junewas very important, as it was the last regular meeting that would be held until September, and there were many arrangements to be made.
Most of the girls and Miss Walsh herself expected to be away two months, but several members were to be at home all summer and a few were only going away for a short time. Miss Walsh said she did not think it fair that those remaining in town should be deprived of their missionary meetings. It had therefore been decided that the meetings should be continued, though not just in the same way as during the rest of the year. No business was to be transacted and the girls were not to sew unless they wished.
At this “good-by” meeting, as they called it, Miss Walsh had a few words to say both to the stay-at-homes and to those who were going away. To the first she said,
“Dear girls, we leave the band in your hands knowing you will do all you can for its best interests. Mrs. Cresswell has kindly invited you to hold your meetings at her house. I have appointed four of the older girls to lead these meetings—Mary Cresswell and Hannah Morton in July, Ella Thomas and Mamie Dascomb in August. I have given each of these leaders some missionary reading in case you run short, but I dare say you will find plenty of thingsyourselves. I also intend to write you a little letter for each meeting, and should be glad to have any or all of you write to me.”
To the others she said,
“Now when you are away having a good time, don't forget missions. Keep up your interest and come home ready to work more earnestly and faithfully than ever. There are many ways of keeping the subject fresh in your minds and of helping along with the work even in vacation times. But you know this as well as I do, and I should like the suggestions as to how to do it to come from you.”
After a pause Edith said, “We all know the subjects for the next four meetings, and we might study and read just as we should do at home.”
“That is a good suggestion,” said Miss Walsh, “and one I hope you will all adopt; for if you don't, I'm afraid the go-aways will be far behind the stay-at-homes.”
“We might remember what we hear about missions and tell it when we come back,” said one of the others.
“That would be very instructive and pleasant,” said their leader; “and you may have plenty of opportunity to hear, as in these days very interesting missionary meetings are often held at summer resorts. Besides you may meetindividuals who can give you much information.”
“We might do as you are going to do and write letters to the band at home,” said another.
“I know the band at home would like that very much, but you must remember that they must be letters suited to a missionary meeting.”
“We might join with others in holding meetings,” suggested Rosa Stevenson. “In the cottage where I was last summer there were four other girls and two boys who belonged to mission-bands, and we had a meeting every Sunday.”
“Good!” cried Miss Walsh.
“If we meet any children who don't know about missions, we might tell them about our band and what we do,” said Daisy Roberts timidly.
“The very thing, Daisy!” exclaimed Miss Walsh, patting the tiny girl on the shoulder. “And you think that might start them up to become mission workers, do you?”
“Yes, ma'am,” replied Daisy.
“I think,” said Marty, after various other suggestions had been made, and she wondered that no one had thought of this, “I think we all should take our missionary boxes and banks and barrels and jugs along with us, and put money in regularly as we do at home.”
“That isveryimportant,” said Miss Walsh, “because if we neglect to lay by our contributions at the right time, trusting to make up the amount when we return home, we may find ourselves in a tight place and our treasury will suffer. And now, dear missionary workers, wherever you may be, at home or abroad, don't forget to pray every day for the success of this work. Remember what we are working for is the advancement of the kingdom of our blessed Lord and Saviour.”
And then before the closing prayer they all stood up and sang,