THE ACCIDENT
THE Hall was closed for two months. Sir George and Lady Melville had taken their boys to Scotland, so the little girls were shut up entirely to Charlie for society. They quarrelled with him occasionally. Once he went off and stayed away from them for a whole week. But he found he missed them quite as much as they missed him, and on the whole they were very good friends.
One afternoon they were all playing in the orchard when they saw the Pirate ride up to the cottage, tie up his horse and go inside.
He very often called now; sometimes he brought Granny fruit; sometimes he said he came to ask Aunt Alice's advice on some knotty point. He did not always ask to see the little girls, so they went on with their games. Presently Faith was called. She ran in and was met by her aunt with a very grave face.
"Faith, Mr. Cardwell wants you to go back with him. His father is taken very ill and wants to see you."
Faith looked almost frightened:
"Oh, how dreadful, Aunt Alice! Does he want me to nurse him?"
Her aunt smiled.
"No, child, he has a nurse already. Run upstairs and put on your hat and jacket. And be quick! Don't keep Mr. Cardwell waiting."
The young man was standing on the doorstep; he looked at Aunt Alice pleadingly:
"Won't you come?"
She shook her head.
"He does not know me, and if he is conscious, he would not like to see strangers. Take care of Faith and remember she's a highly-strung child, and if she can't do him any good, don't let her stay in his room. Don't give up hope. He may pull round. I am so sorry for you."
They shook hands, and Faith, running downstairs, was lifted up in front of Mr. Cardwell's horse, and he rode away with her.
"Just like a pirate or a bandit," said Hope, looking over the hedge.
They thought she had been taken off to have tea with the old man, but they were soon told the truth.
Faith was taken upstairs when she got to the Towers, and the big bedroom into which she was shown quite awed her. A nurse in uniform came forward at once. She looked surprised when she saw Faith.
"Is it this tiny child he wishes to see?" she said, looking at the young man doubtfully.
He nodded.
"I think it is. We'll see."
And then Faith was led up to the big bed, and was lifted up to sit on the edge of it.
Old Mr. Cardwell looked to her, as if he were asleep. Only his lips moved—and he muttered below his breath.
"Speak to him, Faith. Don't be afraid. He's so fond of you," whispered the Pirate.
So Faith put her soft little hand on that of the invalid's.
"It's little Miss Moth, please. I've come to see you."
The old man opened his eyes drowsily. Quite a smile hovered about his lips.
"Little—Miss Moth—come—to say good-bye—" he murmured; "so glad."
The nurse moved away, and so did the young man.
Then she took up his hand and kissed it.
"Don't go just yet, unless God wants you very much."
He shook his head quickly.
"Say—say—something—to go with me."
Faith looked puzzled. Then her face brightened.
"You mean you want somebody to go up to Heaven with you?"
He looked at her steadily and earnestly—tried to speak and could not.
"The Comforter will go with you, I'm sure," said Faith, cheerfully. "Timothy says He never leaves people till He puts them into God's arms. He'll show you the way. Oh, I wish I could come too!"
Her eyes were shining as she spoke.
"Is that what you mean? Is it the Comforter you want?"
But old Mr. Cardwell lay still, and there was a smile on his lips. The troubled look had left his face, his head fell back on the pillows. The nurse came quickly up, and she and Faith caught one murmured word from the old man's lips. It was "Jesus."
Then Faith was taken out of the room rather quickly. She waited downstairs perplexed and troubled, wondering if her old friend were really going to die, wondering what he had wanted her to say, and wishing she could go back to the bedroom again.
Presently the Pirate came down to her.
There was a strange look on his face; Faith thought there were almost tears in his eyes.
"Do you remember my telling you what a good thing it would be if my father could believe in the Comforter Whom you talked to me about one day when we were on the bridge together?"
"That was before I knew you very well," said Faith, putting her mind back to the occasion mentioned. "You said I could come and see him and talk to him. And then I did."
"Yes, you did, and I really believe, little Faith, that my father was made a happy old man at last. He has been so different lately, and he was calling for you this afternoon."
"Is he really going to heaven?" Faith asked.
"I hope he is there already," was the grave reply.
And then Faith understood that her old friend was dead. She was driven home by the groom, and she cried a little; and when she reached Granny went straight into her arms and finished her cry with her head against her shoulders.
"I didn't want him to die. He is one of my friends," she sobbed. "And I can't bear to think I shall never see him again."
"One day you will," said Granny, "and none of us must wish him here again. He suffered very much, and never could bear being ill. Now he has got beyond pain and will be comforted."
"But," said Faith quickly, "he could have been comforted here—everybody can, can't they, if they know about the Comforter?"
"Yes, yes," murmured Granny. She soothed Faith and talked softly to her about the happy entry into the Golden City of everyone who trusted in Jesus.
"Mr. Cardwell spoke to Jesus. He said His Name," said Faith. "I thought he wanted the Comforter."
"When we come to die," said Granny gravely, "it is our Saviour we want; for it was through His Death that we can go into Heaven. It is for His sake that we are forgiven and taken there."
Faith nodded.
"But the Comforter carries people up to Heaven. Timothy says he does."
And Granny said no more.
Faith missed her old friend very much in the days that followed. Charity and Hope often went over to the Farm to see Miss Huntingdon, but one day she was invited to go with them, and after that she did not feel so lonely. She still went up to Timothy's cottage and had long talks with him. Aunt Alice said to Granny that Faith was too old for her age.
"It isn't natural for a child to be talking to an old man continually."
"I don't know about that," said Granny smiling; "we old folk often understand children better than you younger ones. And Faith is a child at heart. She is just as keen in her games as the others, and I'm thankful to see her white cheeks becoming rosy. She is much stronger than she was. It is quite natural for a child to be religious, Alice."
"Is it? I suppose so. But even I should find Timothy very dull."
Aunt Alice had been up to Timothy's cottage once, and she had not enjoyed herself as much as Faith did. But that may have been because Timothy was very silent with her. He always brightened up when he talked to children.
The summer holidays came to an end; Miss Vale returned to her pupils, and lessons began again. Miss Huntingdon left the farm and went back to London. Both Charity and Hope were very sorry when she went, and missed going over to the farm to see her.
One day the Pirate came to wish the children good-bye.
He said he was going to shut up the Towers for a time, and go over to France.
It was Aunt Alice who received this confidence.
He and she were great friends, and he often asked her in the meekest voice what she would advise him to do.
Charity asked him if he were going to fight.
"No such luck!" he said. "But I've got a billet somewhere at the base. A friend of mine is out there, and he has pulled the necessary strings for me. I have nobody now who wants me in England."
"Oh, but we want you!" the children cried. "Do come back soon. Come back for Christmas."
"If the war is over, I will," he said cheerfully; then he took Faith aside:
"Will you sometimes go and see that my father's grave is kept tidy, Faith?"
"Oh," she said, with bright eyes, "I should love to do it. And may I plant some flowers on it? I have a garden of my own, and I should be so happy if you would let me."
"I shall be happy, too, if you will."
Then he put his hand on her curly head.
"God bless you, little Faith. I never can forget how you eased his last days!"
Then with a change of tone he added:
"And take care of your Aunt Alice; don't wear her out between you. If I come back and find her getting wrinkled, I shall carry her off away from you all!"
Faith laughed gaily.
"You really are a pirate," she said, "for you love carrying people away!"
"I mean it," he said, with a nod of his head.
It seemed quite dull when he went, for since his father's death he had come over very often to the Cottage.
Charlie was very sorry to lose him.
"I was getting to know him," he said; "he came over and brought me a fishing rod. He said crocks like me and him could be good fishermen if we were nothing else. And I mean to learn to be the best fisherman in the county."
Charlie always had a great idea of his own powers. He was still the Captain of his little company, and every spare afternoon would come to the tent in the orchard. One day he arrived with a new acquisition, a real telescope that he had found in an empty attic. It proved very useful in their games, and he soon found an opportunity to order Ben and Bolt up a tree to make observations of the country round.
"You must get up as high as you can, and if you see any of the enemy, however far off they may be, you must signal down to me without speaking where they are."
Hope and Faith were only too willing to climb any tree. They had sampled all the apple trees, but there was an oak tree at the bottom of the orchard which was much higher than any of the others, and they determined to climb up this. Hope carried the telescope. She was to spy through it, and Faith was to do the signalling by means of some toy flags. Charlie had taught them all to signal. There was not much about signalling that he did not know. Up the little girls went, higher and higher. They rather vied with each other as to who should get up the higher. Charity and Charlie were watching them from below, and egging them on.
"I don't think they had better climb any higher," said Charity a little anxiously; "the branches seem so thin."
"Oh, they're all right," Charlie cried. "Well, my men, what do you see?"
Hope was looking through the telescope now; she turned and said something to Faith, who was on a branch just below her.
Faith unrolled her flags. One of them slipped from her grasp. She made a hasty movement to catch it, and lost her balance. There was an awful crash of branches, a scream, and a heavy thud, and poor little Faith lay a huddled-up heap at the foot of the tree!
Charity rushed to pick her up, and rent the air with her screams:
"She's dead! Faith is dead! Aunt Alice! Granny! Come quick! Faith is killed."
Granny and Aunt Alice heard the cries and ran out. Aunt Alice picked up the unconscious child and carried her into the house, and up to her bed. Charlie's father was sent for, and happily he had just arrived home from his rounds, so no time was lost, but he looked very grave when he saw the little girl.
"It's extraordinary that no bones are broken," he said; "but she pitched on her head. It is concussion of the brain."
Faith was unconscious, but she was alive. The sobbing, frightened children in the orchard soon heard that bit of welcome news. Charlie was taken home by his father; Charity and Hope stole about the house on tiptoe. It had to be kept very quiet for many days, and Faith lay between life and death. Aunt Alice never left her. It was astonishing now that Faith was ill to find out how many friends she had in the village. All day long people were coming to enquire after the poor "little lady."
Old Timothy called in every evening on his way home from the farm.
Charity met him the first day with tear-stained eyes.
"Isn't it the most awful thing to happen!" she said. "And Mrs. Horn says that perhaps Faith will never get well in her head again. She says children have been turned into idiots for less than what Faith did. Oh, do ask God to make her quite well again! She's so fond of you. She doesn't know anybody now, but she called out this morning, 'I want the Comforter.' You told her all about Him, didn't you?"
Old Timothy nodded his head sadly.
"Bless her little heart, she learns me as much as I learn her. Her name is just right. She's just faith through and through! I only wish mine were as big. But there! Don't you fret, Missy; she's in the Lord's Hands, and whether He carries her Home or leaves her with us, 'tis all for the best."
"But it isn't for the best if Faith dies!" cried Charity, stamping her foot. "We don't want her to die. You don't care for her like we do, and Hope and I think it's all your fault. You made her so good that now she's got to die. All good children do!"
And then Charity burst into tears and ran back into the Cottage.
She and Hope could do no lessons for the first few days; and then as Faith still remained unconscious day after day they begged for Miss Vale to come to them again.
"We can't play, and the days are so long, and there's nothing to do," they wailed.
It was a relief to have their minds employed by sums and history and geography. Miss Vale was very kind, and had them over one day to tea with her. At another time they would have enjoyed themselves tremendously, for Miss Vale and her mother lived in an old-fashioned house in the High Street of the market town, and there was a lot to be seen from the window, and old Mrs. Vale was a bright, talkative old lady with such a lot of anecdotes which she delighted in telling them, that Charity and Hope were quite fascinated. But their thoughts never wandered very far from Faith on her sick bed.
"It seems so wonderful," said Charity to Miss Vale one day, "that just in one moment such awful things can happen. Faith was climbing and talking and laughing, and then the very next minute she was almost dead, and she's never spoken to us since!"
"And perhaps she'll never speak to us again," said Hope dismally; "and I had just been cross to her. She said she was a little afraid, and I called her a baby!"
Miss Vale comforted them as best she could.
When they had finished their lessons, they hardly knew what to do with themselves. They felt it was heartless to play in the orchard. Charlie was not allowed to come round to them. His father was very angry with the part he had played in the catastrophe.
One afternoon, Charity and Hope went up to the village shop. Mrs. Budd, who kept it, asked anxiously about Faith.
"I can't forget 'er a-turning to my old mother who was cryin' somethin' fearful one day in the shop. We'd just had a wire to say our John was killed out in France. The little dear took hold of her hands and stroked them, and began telling her how to be comforted, and she told her to go to see Timothy Bendall, and he would tell her how she would be made happy. And Mother did, she went up the very nex' day. She were fair distracted with grief, and couldn't keep still in her house. The old man did her a world of good, and he often drops in to have a chat with her. But 'twas Miss Faith who started to talk to her. Dear soul! To think she be lyin' there dyin'!"
"Oh, we hope she's going to get better," said Charity, with a troubled face. "Dr. Evans says we must hope."
They came out of the shop feeling very depressed, and then they met Lady Melville coming out of the village almshouses. She stopped at once to speak to them.
"Oh, it's awful!" said Charity. "Faith doesn't know anybody yet. Do you think she ever will again? I went in to see her this morning, and she keeps moving her head from side to side and moaning, and her hair is all cut quite short. It doesn't seem as if it can be Faith lying there!"
"You poor dear children!" said kind Lady Melville. "I wonder if you would both like to come and stay at the Hall till Faith's better. Do you think Granny would let you? It need not stop your lessons, for Miss Vale might come up to us and give them to you in the boys' old schoolroom. Shall I come and ask Granny about it?"
Charity and Hope looked quite delighted.
"Oh, it would be lovely!" Charity said. "Aunt Alice is always telling us to 'hush,' and we have to creep about all day on tiptoe. We don't want to hurt poor Faith, but it is so difficult to remember all day long!"
Lady Melville went straight back to the Cottage with them, and had a long talk with Granny and Aunt Alice.
An hour later Granny was driving the little girls with their small luggage up to the Hall.
Charity stroked Topsy's nose when they got out of the carriage.
"Do you think he knows Faith is ill, Granny? He seems rather melancholy to-day."
"I expect he misses your games with him in the orchard," said Granny.
"We don't like the orchard now," said Hope; "and I've quite made up my mind that I'll never climb again. Oh, Granny, is Faith going to get better?"
"If Faith gets through this week, Dr. Evans says she will recover," Granny said gravely.
She said good-bye to her little grand-daughters and drove away. They went into the house with sober faces.
But soon the novelty of their surroundings cheered them up. They had a large, cheerful bedroom with a soft, thick carpet and a cushioned couch and round table. Hope said it looked more like a sitting-room than a bedroom, and accustomed to the very plainest and barest of bedroom furniture, the little girls felt that they were in the lap of luxury.
And then they went into Lady Melville's morning room, where she and they had tea together.
Their tongues went fast. Lady Melville was a good listener, and they always felt thoroughly at home with her. When Sir George came in, two very cheerful children greeted him, and for the time Faith's illness was pushed into the background.
A WONDERFUL LEGACY
FAITH did get better, very slowly. And it was a happy day for Charity and Hope when they were able to go over from the Hall and see her sitting up and taking notice of everybody once again. She looked very small and white, and spoke languidly, as if it were too much trouble to get her words out, but she listened to her sisters' account of their days at the Hall with much interest.
"I ride on a pony every afternoon," said Hope with pride. "Tommy is much faster than Topsy. I go for rides with Sir George, and yesterday we rode into town, and I saw Mrs. Vale sitting in her window, and she nodded to me!"
"And I drove out with Lady Melville," said Charity, "and we went to tea with some friends of hers, and they said the war would soon be over, perhaps by Christmas."
Faith smiled, but made no comment on these bits of news; then she asked:
"Have you seen Timothy?"
"Not lately," answered Charity.
"I should like to see him," said Faith slowly.
Aunt Alice was in the room and heard her wish.
"Then you shall see him, darling. Charity, you can call at his cottage on your way home. Ask him to come the first day he can."
So Charity and Hope called at the little cottage.
The woods were just now in their autumn colours. Blackberries were fast getting ripe, and nuts lay ready on the ground to pick up. They lingered by the way to enjoy it all, and then they found Timothy outside, getting an armful of firewood. Sandy bounded forward to meet them.
When Hope patted his head and spoke to him, he whined a little and moved away.
"He's disappointed 'tisn't Miss Faith," said Timothy; "how is the little dear?"
"She wants to see you," said Charity; "will you go and see her as soon as you can? Aunt Alice told us to ask you."
"Ay, surely I will. Bless her little heart, there's not a day but I wonders how she is. I've missed her sorely. And I'm not the only one."
"No," said Hope with an understanding nod; "it is everybody that misses Faith. We wonder why, because we thought her rather quiet and dull sometimes, but we don't now. We know how we miss her, but we don't quite understand why the village people talk about her so."
"'Tis just her little winning way and her big heart," said Timothy; "and then when she talks to folk, she has always something big to talk about."
"How do you mean?" asked Charity.
Old Timothy rubbed his head slowly. It was a way he had when he was thinking.
"I was reading in the Book t'other day," he said, "and it made me think how the little maid be as good as her name. Do you remember the gran' chapter of the heroes who lived by faith? 'Tis said amongst the list of their noble doin's, that 'through faith they obtained promises,' and 'out of weakness were made strong.' Now, through Miss Faith talkin' I know more than one body hereabout who have obtained most precious promises and have been made strong!"
Charity and Hope were silent. They wished the old man good-bye and went on to the Hall.
"I don't understand Timothy," said Hope at last, "he talks as if Faith preaches to people."
"No, she just talks," said Charity, "but I suppose she talks about the Things we don't talk about, and it does people good."
Hope said nothing more, but the little girls found themselves repeating to Lady Melville what the old man had said.
"Children are rather prigs when they talk goody," said Charity—"at least, we think they are; but Timothy seemed to say that Faith had been doing great things just like the Bible people."
"I don't think little Faith is at all a prig," said Lady Melville gently; "you know if we are very full of anything we can't help talking about it. It bubbles up at once like a little spring in the ground which gets over full when a storm of rain comes. Faith has a great realisation of the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, and because she believes He makes every sad person happy, she talks to everybody who is sad, about Him. She can't help doing it. Dear little Faith! Why, even when she talks to me, I feel myself stronger in my faith when she goes away!"
The little girls were silent for a moment. Then Charity said:
"I suppose she practises her name. Granny often tells us we ought to make our names good. When I grow up and get rich, I shall give a lot of money away in charity; then I shall be acting out my name, shan't I?"
Lady Melville smiled.
"It is rather strange, but in the chapter in the Bible which tells about your name it says that you can give all your goods to feed the poor, and yet have no charity. You may do it to get praise from God, or from men, and not because you love them. We have false ideas of charity. It means love. You can love God, and everybody, if you are quite poor, and so be acting out your name now."
Charity thought over this.
"It says Charity is better than Hope or Faith," said Hope; "I wonder why. Charity often reminds me and Faith of that."
Charity hung her head.
"Well," said Lady Melville cheerfully, "I often tell you that you have all three beautiful names which ought to inspire you. Faith acts out hers without knowing it. If I were Charity, I should always try to be kind and loving to all, and not to think about myself at all, only of pleasing others. And if I were Hope, I should try to fill my mind with all the beautiful things we are told to hope for."
"I think my name is most difficult of all," said Hope, "because everything you hope for is always on in front of you; you never seem to catch it up!"
"Well," said Lady Melville smiling, "if we have got a sure hope of everything beautiful and happy coming to us in the future, we shan't mind about present troubles, and we shall be very happy people. You told me the other day that when Dr. Evans said there was hope of Faith's getting well again, you were so happy that nothing else seemed to matter. That is how we should all live. Nothing matters very much in this world because we have such beautiful, wonderful hopes about the next."
The little girls said no more, but they remembered Lady Melville's talk about their names, and it did them good.
They were very happy at the Hall, and very soon the day came when Granny said she could have them back at the cottage again. Faith was an invalid still. She seemed to be a long time in getting back her health and strength, but she was able to play with her dolls again, and go out for little walks; and she was bright and cheerful, and able now to talk nearly as fast as Charity and Hope.
Her birthday was the beginning of November. The children had a holiday. Charity and Hope went into town to buy her a birthday present. Their Aunt Alice was with them, and they had quite an exciting afternoon, for Aunt Alice took them to tea at the pastry-cook's, and the shops were very gay with preparations for Christmas. To add to their joy, they met Charlie and his mother, and Charlie was full of business. He had come into town to buy Faith a birthday present, and he took Charity and Hope off to a toyshop, whilst Mrs. Evans and Aunt Alice went into uninteresting shops, such as the grocer's and the linen-draper's.
"You see, I must get her something nice, because I made her ill," said Charlie; "at least, that is what father and mother say, but of course I didn't mean to. And what do you think I am going to buy her?"
The little girls could not guess.
"A box of fretwork tools. I had one once on my birthday, but my tools are broken and lost. It will be just the thing for Faith, for she can make things indoors, and I will come over and help her."
"That will be lovely," said Charity enthusiastically, "Hope and I are going to put our money together to make it more. We haven't very much only two shillings and fourpence."
They roamed round the toyshop. First they thought of a watering-can, but then they remembered that winter was coming and the flowers were over, so that Faith would not be able to use it for a long time. Then Hope suggested a paint box, but Faith was not so fond of painting as Charity was, so that was given up.
At last they saw a very cheap set of doll's tea things for half-a-crown. Aunt Alice, good-naturedly, had told them she would make their money up to 2s. 6d., so they got it.
"The cups will be quite big enough for us to drink out of," said Hope; "we can use them when we have feasts."
So the tea-set was bought. Granny's present for Faith was a little blue-knitted jacket to keep her warm when she went out. Granny had made it all herself. And Aunt Alice had bought her a little brown muff. There was great excitement when they got home that evening. Faith went to bed very early now; and after she was out of the way, the presents were all wrapped up in paper, and little tickets attached with the names of donors.
Somehow this birthday of Faith's seemed to be an extra important day. They could not help remembering how very nearly they had lost her.
And then Aunt Alice told Charity and Hope a secret, which was that old Mr. Cardwell had left a present for Faith which he had told his son to give her on her next birthday. The "Pirate" had left this with Aunt Alice before he went away, and Aunt Alice produced it now. It looked like a box, but Aunt Alice said she believed it was the old man's cabinet of coins which he had once showed to Faith. It was all carefully wrapped up in brown paper.
The next morning Charity and Hope were up early. Faith still had her breakfast in bed, but they were allowed to take their presents in before. As Faith sat up in bed unwrapping all her parcels, her little fingers trembled with excitement. There were cries of ecstasy over every one of the gifts. Faith was always easy to please. The tea-set was what she had always longed for, Granny's jacket was almost too grand to wear, and the muff was a luxury she had never before experienced. Charlie's box of fretwork was most entrancing; she longed to begin testing the tools at once; and then old Mr. Cardwell's present was slowly opened, with flushed cheeks, and shining eyes.
"Oh! Oh! It's his beautiful cabinet with all the old, old money in it! Look at the tiny drawers, and all the coins in different parts!"
Faith clasped her hands and almost cried.
"It seems as if he is alive," she said. "Oh! I wish he was! I wish he was!"
Charity and Hope were both as interested as she was in peeping into all the little drawers, and seeing all the varieties of ancient coin. Then in the bottom drawer Faith found a sealed envelope with her name written upon it. She looked at it with awe, for it was addressed by old Mr. Cardwell himself.
And then the next moment Aunt Alice was summoned to the room by the excited screams of the children.
"Granny! Aunt Alice! Quick! Faith has got one hundred pounds!"
It was true. The cheque in Faith's shaking hands was for one hundred pounds to be paid to Miss Faith Blair, and the little note was as follows:
"MY DEAR LITTLE MISS MOTH,"I shall be gone away from you when you receive this, for I do not mean you to have it till after my death; and you will not get it until your birthday. It is in remembrance of a grateful old man, and, knowing your careful little soul, I want you to spend this money whilst you are young, in the best way that you can. Don't hoard it. Spend it on yourself and on others. There are no conditions attached to it. I humbly hope that you and I may one day meet each other again in that Land where you tell me everyone is welcome."Your old friend,"W. CARDWELL."
Aunt Alice seemed stricken dumb, but she read the letter through, and passed it to Granny, who began to wipe her spectacles when she had finished it.
"Is it true?" asked Faith. "Can it be true that I've got a hundred pounds?"
"Yes, dear, it is. I'm sure I had no idea that such a present was in store for you."
Then Aunt Alice began to fold up the pieces of stray paper scattered over the bed.
"We must talk about it after breakfast," she said; "come along, children."
Charity and Hope went to their breakfast; but their talk was full of this wonderful gift.
"Why," said Charity, "Faith could buy a cottage of her own, couldn't she, with a hundred pounds?"
Aunt Alice laughed.
"Oh, no," cried Hope; "she wouldn't want anything uninteresting like that. She could buy a pony, and a saddle, and build a beautiful little stable for him all her own."
Granny began to smile now.
"We know that Charity would like a cottage, and Hope a pony, but what about Faith herself?"
"Oh, Faith never wants much," said Charity, "she's so easily pleased."
"And that is why old Mr. Cardwell could trust her with such a lot of money," said Aunt Alice, "he knew she wouldn't want to buy useless luxuries."
After breakfast, Faith was dressed, and brought downstairs. There was a bright fire in the cheerful living room where they generally sat, and before very long, Charlie arrived to give his best wishes for Faith's birthday, and to examine with her the contents of the fretwork box. He was much impressed when he heard the news.
"Why, you could buy a motor," he said; "that's what I should do."
But Faith's ambition did not lie in that direction.
"We have Topsy, and Granny's carriage, that's much nicer than a motor," she said.
"Well, what are you going to do with it?" he asked.
Faith looked dreamily into the fire. She was sitting in the old armchair, and a round table was pushed up to her side.
"I haven't got to settle to-day," she said. "I don't want to spend it all on one thing, I want to get lots of things."
"Make out a list, Faith," urged Charity. "Do it now."
But Faith would not be hurried. And Charlie was so anxious to start her cutting out patterns on wood with her fretwork saw, that she soon gave her whole attention to that. Charlie went home after lunch, but he was invited to come to tea, for there was a birthday cake, and Faith was going to pour out tea. Outside, it was wet and stormy, but the children were perfectly happy indoors that day, and Charity and Hope wrote down long lists of things that they would like Faith to buy with her money.
She was very tired when the exciting birthday was over; and when she was being tucked up into bed by her aunt, she said a little sadly:
"How can I thank Mr. Cardwell, Aunt Alice? It seems so dreadful not to take any notice, and not to thank him."
"It is what people call a legacy, dear. Only it was left to you in such a strange way. Nobody can thank for legacies, as they are left to them after the giver dies."
Faith lay still for a moment, then she said softly:
"Do you think that I might pray to God and ask Him if He would thank him for me. Would it be reverent to ask God to do that?"
"Yes, dear, I think you could pray about it."
So Faith waited till her aunt had left the room, and then she folded her hands and prayed in a whisper:
"Please, God, will you be so kind as to thank Mr. Cardwell for me, and will you tell him what a happy birthday I have had, and what an astonishing surprise it was to get that cabinet, and how I can hardly believe I have a hundred pounds all my own. I do thank him very, very much, and I thank you for letting me have it. Amen."
Downstairs Aunt Alice was saying to Granny:
"I hope it won't turn the child's head. Of course, it is much too big a sum to be handled by her. What should you advise, mother?"
"We must persuade her to put it into the bank for the present, and only draw a little at a time. He was a strange old man."
"Fred had no idea that it was anything beyond a cabinet. I must write to him about it, for of course this cheque can't be honoured."
Granny looked grave.
"I suppose not. The child may have trouble in getting the money."
"Oh, Fred is all right."
Granny smiled wisely, but said no more.
Charity and Hope were both dreaming of lovely palaces, and dogs and horses, and golden sovereigns, rolling down the streets.
But Faith slept deeply, and hardly dreamt at all. She only seemed when she woke in the morning to have been talking with her old friend once more. And their talk was not about the money at all. It was about the Comforter.
FAITH'S GIFTS
IT was only a few days after Faith's birthday that the Great War came to an end, and an armistice was signed by Germany. There were great rejoicings in the village. The church bells rang out all day, flags were erected; the school had a holiday, and there was a bonfire and fireworks at night.
The little girls were very excited, and walked about the village all day talking to everybody. Nobody could keep indoors. They were all shaking each other's hands, and talking about the "wicked Kayser!" A great many wives were rejoicing that their husbands would soon be returning to them.
Faith was only allowed out for a few hours in the middle of the day, but it was wonderful how many came up and shook hands with her, and said how glad they were to see her about again.
"I rather wish I had tumbled out of the tree instead of you," said Hope that afternoon, when they were having tea: "it makes you so important to be ill, and I like being important."
"But it makes you feel so tired," said Faith, plaintively. "I don't feel as if I could run at all, not even from a mad bull."
Hope looked at her reflectively.
"I shouldn't like that," she said. Then with a sudden change of subject, she went on—
"Do you know, Faith, what you could do with your money? It's a lovely idea. And Charlie and I thought of it."
"What? I keep thinking of so many things. I have made a long list already."
"Why, you could buy a beautiful gipsy van, and we could go about the country in it. A caravan. Wouldn't it be lovely?"
"Then we should have to buy a horse, too—a big one—and Aunt Alice would say she couldn't keep him or feed him."
"Oh, Topsy would pull it, or you could buy a horse and feed him. You have enough money to do anything!"
Faith gave a little sigh. She began to feel the responsibility of money weigh heavily on her shoulders. And the very fact of her still being weak and frail made the least thing a burden to her.
That night when she went to bed, Granny came up with her. She and Faith had a little prayer together of thanks for the peace which had come to the world.
And then Faith lying back on her pillows said wistfully:
"Granny, I wish Mr. Cardwell had left me five shillings instead of a hundred pounds. I don't really know how to spend it."
"Yes, I wish he had," said Granny, looking at Faith's white cheeks with great pity; "but, my darling, he would not like to think that it would be a burden to you."
"You see," Faith went on, "Charity and Hope expect me to do something very big with it, and so does Charlie, and it is the big things that are so difficult."
"Now look here," said Granny, cheerfully. "Christmas will soon be here. I know you don't want to spend it all on yourself. Take some of it and buy presents for your friends. Not big presents—just buy nice gifts for them, then put the rest of the money in the bank; and by-and-bye you may think of a nice way to spend it. There is no hurry—you can spend it gradually. There is no need for getting rid of it at once."
"Oh, Granny, thank you so much. If I can do that, I shall be very glad. And do you think I could buy Timothy a very warm thick overcoat? He gets so cold when he goes out at night to see any sick sheep."
"I think that would be a lovely idea."
Granny kissed her, and left her quite happy.
The next morning, she told Charity and Hope of Granny's advice; and though they were at first rather disappointed, they were soon most interested in the list of presents that Faith began to write down.
These were some of them.
Timothy: A very thick overcoat. Granny: A big fur cloak. Aunt Alice: A muff and boa. Miss Vale: A very nice writing case. Mrs. Horn: A warm bed quilt. Mrs. Vale: A pair of gold spectacles. Charlie: A bicycle. Mrs. Cox: A big shawl. Mrs. Budd, who kept the village shop: A china tea-set. Sir George: A pocket-book. Lady Melville: A purse.
There were various children and old women in the village whom the little girls knew. Faith said she would like to give Christmas cakes to them all.
And then came the serious question of what Charity and Hope would like.
Charity said they would like to choose themselves.
"If you don't think it will cost too much money," she said, "I would like a glass book-case, because I'm collecting a library, and by the time I grow up, I shall have a splendid lot of books. And it would stand at one end of our schoolroom. There would just be room for it."
"Oh, what fun it will be buying!" said Faith, clapping her hands. "Of course you can have the book-case. And now Hope?"
Hope walked round the room considering.
"Of course I would really like a big dog," she said; "but Aunt Alice wouldn't hear of that. Why, Faith, I know what we want. That is a proper saddle for Topsy. If you could give me that, we could all ride him."
"But that wouldn't be for you then," Faith objected. "I can give myself that. It can be got for us all, besides the Christmas presents."
And then Hope thought she would like a complete set of garden tools. So Faith put that down.
When once her list of Christmas presents was finished she felt happier. And daily she became stronger, until very soon she was able to take part in lessons again, and in the walks that her sisters took every day.
Time sped away. Aunt Alice wrote to the Pirate about the cheque, and promptly received another back in place of it. December came, a bright, cold December, and they had their first fall of snow. It was too cold to play in the orchard, and they were content to run along briskly out of doors.
At last, a fortnight before Christmas, Aunt Alice said they could all come shopping with her. They were to go to the town early in the morning, have their lunch in a shop, and stay till quite late in the afternoon.
It was a day to be remembered. Never had they so much money to spend. For Charity and Hope felt that they shared with Faith the excitement of choosing and buying all the presents. Aunt Alice was very good in helping them. It was only her own present that was kept secret. And she was as pleased as Faith herself when they chose together a lovely grey cloth cloak lined with white fur, for dear Granny.
Charity got her book-case, and Hope her garden tools. The saddle was chosen and paid for, and then Faith was asked what she was going to get for herself. She could not make up her mind for a long time. At last she saw a picture in a shop which greatly took her fancy. It was a little child being led up a steep hill by a shining angel. Her Aunt smiled when she was told she would like to buy it.
"I might have known something of that sort would have attracted you," she said.
Perhaps the most interesting bit of shopping was ordering the cakes in the pastry-cook's. Faith found that she wanted fifteen, and they had to be made on purpose for her.
Aunt Alice laughed at the woman's astonished face when she took the order.
"It's a good thing you have some currants and raisins at last," she said, "for otherwise it would be no good ordering plumcakes from you."
The little girls asked their Aunt to let them go into one shop by themselves, and Aunt Alice turned her head again, and pretended she did not see where they went.
Faith was very anxious over the set of furs they asked to see. At first the attendant who waited upon them looked rather suspiciously at them.
"These are very expensive," she said. "How much do you want to give?"
Charity looked up with red cheeks.
"We have a hundred pounds to spend, we don't care how much it is."
The attendant smiled. She consulted the head of the fur department. But when she saw that Faith had a little bag stuffed with notes, she became very civil. And the children at last chose a big black fox stole and muff, which cost about sixteen pounds. Faith was rather frightened at the amount, but she paid it, and she went out of the shop wondering if Aunt Alice would be angry if she knew how fast her money was melting away.
It was quite late when all the shopping was finished, and the children were very tired when they reached home.
Granny asked how they had enjoyed themselves.
"It has been just like a fairy story," said Charity, "and I suppose rich people can spend money like Faith has to-day whenever they like. Oh, I do hope I shall be rich one day!"
Granny shook her head at her.
"I wish you better than that," she said; "money is a great care."
"It is indeed," said Faith in an old-fashioned way, "and I never knew it would go so fast, Granny; will you add up for me and tell me how much I have left?"
When bed-time came, Aunt Alice was able to tell her. And Faith was horrified to find that she had only about forty pounds left.
She looked so troubled that Granny came to her. "What is it, darling?"
"Oh, Granny, I wanted to give something out of it to God. I thought you would tell me how."
"But I think many of your presents to the poor old people in the village are offerings to God, dear."
"But I thought in church—I thought Mr. Webster would like to have some."
"To give away to the poor, do you mean? Well, you can talk it over with him, but don't spend it all this Christmas. I advise you to keep some in the bank and take it out when you really need it."
"Yes," assented Faith, "and I won't think about spending it any more, but just enjoy myself."
When Christmas Eve came, the little girls were up early. They took the presents round to the villagers in the morning, and had great fun packing all the cakes into Granny's carriage.