The Sabbath morning sun awoke Tip from a heavy sleep. He lay still a few moments, thinking who he was. Things were different: he was not simply Tip Lewis, a ragged little street boy, any longer; this was the morning when he was going to start out under a new motto, with Jesus for his guide.
He was going to Sabbath school. He had not been since the morning that Miss Perry had taught the class, and told the story which was to be a blessing to him through all his future life. His evil spirit had been strong upon him during the three Sabbath mornings that had passed since then, and persuaded him to stay away from the school, but this morning he was resolved to go. He had a secret hope that he should see Miss Perry again, for he did not know that she was hundreds of miles away from that village, and would probably never be there again; all he knew was, that a gentleman had brought her to the door, and introduced her to the superintendent as Miss Perry; that much he heard as he sat gazing at them.
This morning he judged by the sun that it was pretty late, yet he didn't get on very fast with the business of dressing: he sat down on the foot of the bed, and looked sorrowfully at his jacket; he even turned it inside out to see if it wouldn't improve its appearance, but he shook his head, and speedily turned it back again.
If he "only had a collar," he said to himself,—"a smooth white collar, to turn down over the worn-out edges,—it would make things looksomuch better." But that was something he had never had in his life, and he put on the old ragged brown jacket with a sigh. Then he put on his shoes, and took them off again: the question was, which looked the best,—shoes which showed every one of his toes peeping out on the top, or no shoes at all? Suddenly a bright idea struck him: if his feet were only white and clean, he thought they would certainly look much better. Down he went to the rickety pump in the back yard, and face, hands, and feet took such a washing as they had never received before; then the old comb had to do duty. Tip had never had such a time getting dressed; but, some way, he felt a great longing this morning to make himself look neatly; he had a feeling that it was ever so much more respectable to be neat and clean than it was to go looking as he had always done. Still, to carry a freshly-washed face and hands and smooth hair was the very best he could do; and, if he had but known it, these things made a great improvement.
He made his way half shyly into the mission seat, for the truth was he did not know just how the boys would receive his attempt at respectability; but he had no trouble, for several of his companions had seen his face when he took his last look into that little coffin the day before, and they felt sorry for him.
No Miss Perry appeared; and it seemed, at first, that the mission boys were to have no teacher. It was a warm morning, and the visitors' seat was vacant.
But there was at last a great nudging of elbows, and whispers of "Look out now!" "We're in a scrape!" "No chance for fun today!" And only Tip's eyes looked glad when Holbrook halted before their class, with "Good morning, boys." Then, "Good morning Edward; I am glad to see you here to-day;" and the minister actually held out his hand to Tip. Mr. Holbrook never called him Tip; he had asked him one morning what his real name was, and since then had spoken it, "Edward," in clear, plain tones.
It was a restless, wearying class. It required all Mr. Holbrook's wits and wisdom to keep them in any sort of order, to gain any part of their attention. Yet it was not as bad as usual; partly because the minister knew how, if anybody did, to teach just such boys, and partly because Tip, hitherto the spirit of all the mischief there, never took his eyes from the teacher's face. Mr. Holbrook watched his close attention, and took courage. When the other scholars passed out, he laid his hand on Tip's arm, with the words, "You have been a good listener to-day, Edward, Did you understand the story I told, of the boy who started on a journey to the Holy Land?"
"Some of it I did: you meant that he started for heaven."
"You understand it, I see. Don't you want to take that journey?"
"I mean to, sir."
"'Help Thou mine unbelief,'" was Mr. Holbrook's prayer just then. He had hoped for, longed for, prayed for these boys, especially for this one since the day before; yet he was astonished when he received the firm, prompt answer, "I mean to, sir,"—astonished, as too many are, that his prayer was heard.
"Have you started, my boy?" he asked, speaking with a little tremble in his voice.
"Yes, sir, I've tried; I told God last night that I would, but I don't much know how."
"You want a lamp, don't you?"
"A what, sir?"
"A lamp. You remember in the story the boy found dark places every little way; then he took out his lamp, so he couldn't lose the road. Don't you need it?"
"I want some help, but I don't know as a lamp would do me any good."
"Ah yes; the one I mean will surely help you, if you give it a chance." Mr. Holbrook took from his pocket a small, red-covered book, and held it up. "Do you know what book this is?" he asked.
"It's a Bible, ain't it?"
"Yes. Have you ever read in the Bible?"
"Some, at school."
"You know, then, that God told men just what to say, and they wrote it here, so you see that makes it God's words; that is what we call it sometimes,—the Word of God. Now, let me show you something." He turned the leaves rapidly, then pointed with his finger to a verse; and Tip read, "Thy word is a lamp to my feet."
"Oh," he said, with a bright look, "that is the kind of lamp you mean!"
"That is it; and, my boy, I want you to take this for your lamp. There is no place on the whole road so dark but that it can light you through, if you try it. When you don't understand it, there is always Jesus to go to, you know." And, taking out his pencil, Mr. Holbrook wrote on the fly-leaf, in plain, round letters, "Edward Lewis." Then, handing the book to him, with a bow and smile, the minister turned away.
Tip walked out of the school and down the road, holding his treasure closely. Such a queer, new feeling possessed him. Things were really to be different, then. The minister had talked with him, had shaken hands with him, and given him a Bible. And here he was walking quietly away from the school, all alone, instead of leading a troop of noisy boys, intent on mischief.
"Oh, Tip Lewis," he said to himself, as he hugged his book, "I don't know but you will be somebody, after all; you mean to try with all your might, don't you? and you've got a lamp now!"
"Why," said Tip, as he sat on the foot of the bed, turning over the leaves of his Bible,—"why, that is the very thing I want. 'I will instruct thee, and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go.' Yes, that's exactly it. I want to begin to-day, and do every single thing so different from what I ever did before, that nobody will know me. Now, if He'll help me, I can do it. I'll learn that verse."
The verse was repeated many times over, for Tip was not used to study. While he was busy thus, the Spirit of God put another thought into his heart.
"I must ask Christ to help me now," he said, with reverent face; and, kneeling down, he made known his wants in very simple words, and in that plain, direct way which God loves. Then he went down—stairs, prepared for whatever should befall him that day.
Kitty was up, and rattling the kitchen stove.
"Kitty, what's to pay?" Tip asked, as he appeared in the door.
"What's to pay with you? How did you happen to get up?" Receiving no answer to this, she continued, "The old cat is to pay,—everywhere,—and always is! These nasty shavings are soaked through and through, and the wood is rotten,—and there isn't any wood anyway,—and I can't make this fire burn to save my life. Mother is sick in bed,—can't sit up at all. She told me to make a cup of tea for father, and things look as if it would get made some time next month."
Kitty was only twelve years old, but, like most of those children who have been left to bring themselves up, and pick up wisdom and wickedness wherever they are to be found, she was wonderfully old in mind; and was so used to grumbling and snarling, that she could do it very rapidly.
"Oh," said Tip to himself, drawing a long breath, "what a place for me to commence in!" Then he came bravely to Kitty's aid.
"See here, Kitty, don't make such a rattling; you'll wake father. I can make this fire in a hurry. I have made one out of next to nothing, lots of times; you just put some water in the tea-kettle, and we'll have a cup of tea in a jiff."
Kitty stood still in her astonishment, and watched him while he took out the round green sticks that she had put in, laid in bits of dry paper and bits of sticks,—laid them in such a careless, uneven way, that it seemed to her they would never burn in the world; only he speedily proved that they would, by setting fire to the whole, and they crackled and snapped in a most determined manner, and finally roared outright.
Certainly Kitty had never been so much astonished in her life. First, because that rubbish in the stove had been made to become such a positive fire; secondly, that Tip had actually set to work without being coaxed or scolded, and made a fire!
There was a queer, new feeling about it all to Tip himself; for, strange as it may seem, so entirely selfish had been this boy's life, that this was actually the first time he had ever, of his own free will, done anything to help the family at home. His spirits rose with the effort.
"Come, Kitty," he said briskly, "here's your fire. Now, let's fly round and get father and mother some breakfast. Say, do you know how to make toast?"
"It's likely I do," Kitty answered shortly. "If you had roasted your face and burnt your fingers as often as I have, making it for father, I guess you would know how."
"Well, now, just suppose we make two slices,—one for mother, and one for father,—and two cups of tea. My! you and I will be jolly housekeepers, Kitty."
"Humph!" said Kitty contemptuously.
You see she wasn't in the least used to being good-natured, and it took a great deal of coaxing to make her give other than short, sharp answers to all that was said. But, for all that, she went to work, after Tip had poured some water in the dingy little tea-kettle and set it over the fire, cutting the two slices of bread, and getting them ready to toast when there should be any coals.
Tip, meantime, hunted among the confusion, of all sorts of things in the cupboard, for two clean plates and cups.
"You're taken with an awful clean fit, seems to me," Kitty said, as she stood watching him while he hunted for a cloth, then carefully wiped off the plates.
"Yes," answered Tip good-naturedly; "I'm going to try it for a spell, and find out how things look after they are washed."
Altogether it was a queer morning to both of them; and each felt a touch of triumph when at last the toast lay brown and nice, a slice on each plate, and the hot tea, poured into the cups, smelled fresh and fragrant. The two children went softly to the bedroom door in time to hear their father say,—
"What makes you try to get up, if your head is so bad?"
"Oh, what makes me! What else is there formeto do? The young ones are both up, and if I find the roof left on the house I'll be thankful. I never knew them to stay together five minutes without having a battle."
At almost any other time in her life these words would have made Kitty very angry; but this morning she was intent on not letting her tea spill over on the toast, and so paid very little attention to them.
Tip marched boldly in with his dish, Kitty following.
"Lie still, mother, till you get some of our tea and toast, and I reckon it will cure you."
Mrs. Lewis raised herself on one elbow, saw the beautiful brown slices, caught a whiff of the fragrant tea, then asked wonderingly,—
"Who's here?"
"Kitty and me," Tip made answer, proudly and promptly.
Something very like a smile gathered on Mrs. Lewis's worn, fretful face.
"Well, now," she said, "if I ain't beat! It's the last thing on earth I ever expected you to do."
What spell had come over Tip? Breakfast was a great success. After it was over he found a great many things to do; the rusty old axe was hunted up, and some hard knots made to become very respectable-looking sticks of wood, which he piled in the wood-box. Kitty, under the influence of his strange behaviour, washed the dishes, and even got out the broom and swept a little.
Altogether, that was a day long to be remembered by Tip, a day in which he began his life afresh. He made some mistakes; for he fancied, in his ignorance, that the struggle was over,—that he had only to go forward joyfully over a pleasant road.
He found out his mistake: he discovered that Satan had not by any means given him up; that he must yet fight many hard, hard battles.
"They must have had an earthquake down at Lewis's this morning," Howard Minturn said to the boys who were gathered around the schoolroom door. "The first bell has not rung yet, and there comes Tip up the hill."
Up the hill came Tip, sure enough, with a firm, resolute step. The summer vacation was over. The fall term was to commence this morning, and among the things which Tip had resolved to do was this one, to come steadily and promptly to school during the term, which was something that he had never done in his life. The public school was the best one in the village, so he had the best boys in town for school companions, as well as some of the worst.
"Hallo, Tip!" said Bob Turner, coming partly down the hill to meet him. "How are you, old fellow?"
Bob had been away during most of the vacation, and knew nothing of the changes which there had been in his absence. Tip winced a little at his greeting; shivered a little at the thought of the temptation which Bob would be to him.
The two had been linked together all their lives in every form of mischief and wrong; they seemed almost a part of each other,—at least, theyhadseemed so until within these few weeks. Now, Tipfeltrather than knew how far separated they must be.
The bell rang, and the boys jostled and tumbled against each other to their seats.
Bob Turner, as usual, seated himself beside Tip; but then Bob only came to school about two forenoons in a week, so perhaps they might get along.
When the Bible reading commenced, Tip hesitated, and his face flushed; he had never owned a Bible to read from before, but this morning his new one lay in his pocket. The question was, Had he courage to take it out? What would the boys think? What would they say? How should he answer them?
He began to think he would wait until tomorrow morning; then he grew hot and ashamed as he saw that he was already trying to hide his colours. Suddenly he drew out his Bible, and began very hurriedly to turn the leaves.
Bob heard the rustling, and, glancing around, puckered his lips as if he were going to whistle, and, snatching the book, read the name which Mr. Holbrook had written therein; then he whispered, "You don't say so! When did we steal a Bible, and turn saint?"
The blood growing hotter and redder in Tip's cheeks was his only answer; but he felt that his temptation had begun. The next thing was to read; when he had finally found the place, even though there were more than fifty voices reading those same words, yet poor Tip imagined that his would be louder than all the rest, and he choked and coughed, and made more than one trial before he forced his voice to join, even in a whisper, at the words, "And they clothed Him with purple, and plaited a crown of thorns and put it about His head."
It did not help him in his reading that Bob made his lips move with the rest, but said, loud enough for him to hear,—
"The man in the moonCame down too soon,"
and continued to repeat some senseless or wicked rhymes, through the reading of the beautiful chapter.
How thankfully Tip bowed his head that morning; his heart had taken in some of the sweet words. That sacred head had been crowned with thorns, indeed, but he knew it was crowned with glory now,—and he knew that Christ had suffered and died for him! He joined with his whole heart in Mr. Burrows's prayer; and, though Bob pulled his hair and tickled his foot and stepped on his toes, the bowed head was not lifted, and his spirit gathered strength.
But Tip never forgot the trials of that day, nor the hard work which he had to endure them. Bob was, as usual, overflowing with mischief, and, failing in finding the willing helper which he had expected in his old companion, took revenge in aiming a great many of his pranks at him. Such senseless, silly things as he did to annoy! Tip spread his slate over with a long row of figures which he earnestly tried to add, and, having toiled slowly up the first two columns, Bob's wet finger was slyly drawn across it, and no trace of the answer so hardly earned appeared.
Then, too, he had his own heart to struggle against: he was so used to whispering to this and that boy seated near him, to eating apples when the teacher's back was turned, to making an ugly-looking picture on a piece of paper and pinning it on the back of a small boy before him. He was so unused to sitting still, and trying to study.
What hard work it was to study, any way! It seemed to him that he could never get that spelling-lesson in the world; the harder he tried, the more bewildered he grew. A dozen times he spelled the two words, receive and believe, standing so closely together, each time sure he was right, and each time discovering that the i's and e's must change places; he grew utterly provoked and disheartened, and would have fairly cried, had not Bob been beside him to see the tears, and grow merry over them.
Finally, he lost all patience with Bob, and, turning fiercely to him, after he had for the third time pitched the greasy old spelling-book upside down on the floor, said,—
"Look here, now, if you come that thing again, I'll pitch you out of the window quicker than wink!"
"Edward Lewis marked for whispering," said Mr. Burrows. "Edward, you have commenced the term as usual, I see,—the first one marked for bad conduct."
How Tip's ears burned! How untrue it was! He had not commenced this term as usual; how differently he had tried to commence it, only he and God knew. And now to fail thus early in the day! His head seemed to spin and his brain reel; he bowed himself on the seat again, but Bob's head went down promptly, and he whispered,—
"Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep!"
How often Tip had thought such things as these so very funny that he could not possibly help laughing; how silly and meaningless—yes, and cruel—did they seem to him now! Oh, Satan was struggling for Tip to-day: he was reaping the fruits of long weeks spent in evil company and folly.
He looked over to the back seats, where sat Howard Minturn and Ellis Holbrook, hard at work on their algebra lesson, nobody thinking of such a thing as disturbing them; and, as he looked, sighed heavily. If he had only gained such a place as they had in the school, how easily he could work to-day. They were very little older than he, yet here he was trying to do an example in addition, doing it over four times before it was right,—and they were at the head of the class in algebra. If he could only jump to where they were, and go on with them! And the hopelessness of this thought made his spelling-lesson seem harder; so it was no wonder, when the class formed, and he took his old place at the foot, and he stayed there, and spelled believeeiafter all; nobody was surprised, but nobody knew how very,veryhard he had tried.
The long day, crowded full of trouble and temptation to poor Tip, wore away. At recess he wandered off by himself, trying hard to get back some of the strong, firm hopes of the morning.
One more sharp trial was in store for him. Towards the close of the afternoon Bob's fun took the form of paper balls, which, at every turn of Mr. Burrows's back, spun through the room in all directions; two or three of the smaller scholars joined him, and a regular fire of balls was kept up. The boys complained—Mr. Burrows scolded.
At last he spoke this short, prompt sentence: "The next boy I catch throwing paper, or anything else, in this room to-day, I shall punish severely; and I shall expect any scholar who sees anything of this kind going on to inform me."
Not five minutes after that Mr. Burrows bent over his desk in search of something within, when—whisk! went the largest paper ball that had been thrown that day, and landed on the teacher's forehead. Some of the scholars laughed, some looked grave and startled, for Mr. Burrows was a man who always meant what he said.
"Does any one know who threw that ball?" he asked, closing his desk and speaking in a calm, steady tone.
No reply,—silence for a minute. Then, "Ellis Holbrook, do you know who threw that ball of paper?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well; I am waiting to be told."
"Tip Lewis threw it, sir."
This was a little too much for Tip. The first time in his life that he had ever been in school all day without throwing one, to be so accused! He sprang up in his seat with fire in his eyes.
"I didn't!" he almost screamed. "He knows I didn't! It is a mean, wicked lie!"
"Sit down," said Mr. Burrows. "Ellis, did youseehim throw it?"
"Yes, sir, I did."
Mr. Burrows turned to Tip. "Edward, come here."
Tip was still standing.
"Say you won't," whispered Bob. "Say you won't stir a step for the old fellow. If he goes to make you, we'll see who'll beat."
But the command was repeated, and Tip went forward, fixing his steady eyes on Mr. Burrows as he spoke.
"Mr. Burrows, as sure as I live, Ididnot throw that paper ball."
And yet—poor Tip!—he knew he would not be believed; he knew his word could not be trusted; he knew he had often stood there and as boldly declared what wasnottrue, and what had been proved in a few minutes to be false.
No, nobody believed Tip. He had earned, among other things in the school, the name of hardly ever speaking the truth; and now he must suffer for it. So he stood still and received the swift, hard blows of the ruler on his hands; stood without a tear or a promise. Mr. Burrows had not a doubt of his guilt, for had not Ellis Holbrook, whose word was law in the school, said he saw the mischief done? and did not Tip always deny all knowledge of such matters until made to own them?
Still, this time the boy resolutely refused to confess that he had thrown a bit of paper that day, and went back to his seat with smarting hands and the stern words of his teacher ringing in his ears.
What a heavy, bitter heart the poor boy carried out from the schoolroom that afternoon, he felt as though he almost hated every scholar there,—quitehated Ellis Holbrook.
Mr. Burrows, catching a glimpse of his face, said to one of the other teachers, "That boy grows sullen; with all the rest, his good-nature was the only good thing which he had about him, and he is losing that."
Tip heard him, and felt that it was true. He had been punished many a time before, and taken it with the most provoking good humour. But to-day it was different; to-day, for the first time in his life, he had received a punishment which he did not deserve; this day of all others, in which he had tried with all his heart to do right!
"Why didn't you hold on, you simpleton?" Bob asked. "Never saw you get up so much pluck in my life. What made you back out, and be whipped like a baby?"
"Why didn'tyouown that you threw that plaguy paper ball, and not sit there like a coward, and see me take your whipping?"
"Iown it! That's a good one! 'Pon honour, Tip, didn't you throw that ball? I thought you did; I was aiming one at Ellis Holbrook's head just then, and I didn't see what was going on behind me. Didn't you throw it—honour bright?"
"No, I didn't; and I'll throwyouif you say so again."
And Tip turned suddenly in the opposite direction, but Satan still walked with him.
"It's no use," said this evil spirit, speaking out boldly,—"it's no use; don't you see it isn't? You might as well give it up first as last; the boys, and the teacher, and every one, think you're nothing in the world but a wicked young scamp, and you nevercanbe anything else. You've been humbugging yourself these four weeks, making believe you had a great Friend to help you: why hasn't He helped you to-day? You've tried your best all day long, and He knows you have; yet you never had such a hard day in your life. If He cares anything at all about you, why didn't He help you to-day? You asked Him to."
Tip sat down on a log by the side of the road, and gave himself up for a little to Satan's guidance, and the wicked voice went on,—
"Now, you see, you've been cheated. You've tried hard for a whole month tobesomebody, and no one thinks any more of you than they did before, and never will. Your mother scolds just as much, and your home looks just as dismal, and Kitty is just as hateful, and the respectable boys in the village have nothing to do with you. You might just as well lounge around and have a good time. Nobody expects you to be good, or will let you, when you want to be."
Softly there came another voice knocking at Tip's heart. At first he would not notice it, but itwouldbe heard.
"What of all that?" it said; "suppose nobody cares for you, or helps you here. Jesus died, you know, and He is your friend. Youknowthat is not a humbug; youknowHe has heard you when you knelt down and prayed. He has helped you. Then there's heaven, where all the beauty is, and He has promised to take you—yes,you—there by and by! Oh, you must not complain because people won't believe that such a bad boy as you have been has grown good so soon. Christ knows about it, so it's all right. Just keep on trying, and one of these days folks will see that you mean it; theywill—God has promised. He has given you a lamp to light you. Why have not you looked at it all this day?"
"Oh," said Tip, "I can't; Ican'tbe a Christian! I have not done right nor felt right to-day. I almost hate the boys, and Mr. Burrows too. I don't know what to do."
"Go on home," said Satan. "Let the lamp and these new notions and allgo! Christ don't care anything aboutyou; such a miserable, wicked, story-telling boy as you have been, do you expect Him to noticeyou?"
But Tip's hand was in his pocket, resting on his lamp, as he had learned to call it; and the low, sweet voice in his heart was urging him to let its light shine. He drew it out, and turned the leaves, and the same dear Helper stopped his eyes at the words, "Fear not, for I have redeemed thee; I have called thee by thy name; thou artMine."
Then came hot, thankful tears. Oh, precious words, sinking right into the torn, troubled heart. Christ the Redeemer had called him by his name! He was—yes, hewould be His! He glanced around. Nobody was to be seen; he was sitting in the hollow at the foot of the hill, and under the shade of a low branching tree. And there he knelt down to pray; and Satan drew himself away, for the spot around that kneeling boy was holy ground. Tip's soul had gained the victory.
Whether Tip felt it or not, there were some changes in his home. Mrs. Lewis, though worried and hurried and cross enough, still was not so much so as she had been.
The house was quieter, there was no cradle to rock, there were no baby footsteps to follow and keep out of danger; she had more time for sewing. Yet this very thing, the missing of the clinging arms about her neck, sometimes made her heavy heart vent itself in short, sharp words.
But Tip had astonished the family at home,—it didn't require wonderful changes to do it,—rather the change which they saw in him seemed wonderful.
The fire which she found ready made in the morning, the full pail of fresh water, the box: filled with wood, were all so many drops of honey to the tired mother's heart. The awkward pat of his father's pillow, which Tip now and then gave as he lingered to ask how he was, seemed so new and delightful to that neglected father's heart, that he lay on his hard bed and thought of it much all day.
Tip got on better at home than anywhere else; he had not so many temptations. He had been such a lawless, reckless boy, that they had all learned to leave him very much to himself, and, as not a great deal of his time was spent there, his trials at home were not many. As for Kitty, she did not cease to wonder what had happened to Tip; she perhaps felt the difference more than any one else, for it had been the delight of his life to tease her.
Now, from the time that he gathered his books, with the first sound of the school-bell, and hurried up the hill, until he returned at night, ready to split wood, hoe in the garden, or do any of the dozen things that he had never been known to do before, he was a never-failing subject of thought and wonderment to her. Watching him closely, the only thing she could finally settle on as the cause of the change which she found in him was, that he now went every Sabbath morning to the Sabbath school. The mystery must be hidden there. Having decided that matter, Kitty speedily resolved that she would go there herself, and see what they did. Many were the kind hearts that had tried to coax her into that same Sabbath school, and had failed. But this Saturday afternoon's gazing out of the window, with a wonderfully sober face, had ended in her exclaiming,—
"I say, mother, I want a needle and thread."
"What do you want with a needle and thread?" asked Mrs. Lewis, stirring away at some gruel in a tin basin, and not even glancing up.
"I want to mend my dress; it's torn this way and that, and looks awful. I want some green thread, the colour of this wide stripe."
Now for a minute the gruel was forgotten, and Mrs. Lewis looked at Kitty in amazement.
"Dear me!" she said at last; "I don't know what will happen next. It can't be possible that you are going to work to mend your own dress without being scolded about it for a week, and then made to do it."
"Yes, I am, too; I ain't going to look like a rag-bag another hour. And I'm going to wash out my sun-bonnet and iron it; then I mean to go over to that Sunday school to-morrow. I ain't heard any singing since I was born, as I know of, and I mean to."
The gruel began to burn, and Mrs. Lewis turned to it again, saying nothing, but thinking a great deal. Once she used to go to Sabbath school herself, when she was Kitty's age; and she didn't have to mend her dress first, either; she used to be dressed freshly and neatly, every Sabbath morning, by her mother's own careful hands.
She poured the gruel into a bowl, and then went over to her workbox.
"Here's a needle and thread," she said at last, drawing out a snarl of green thread from the many snarls in her box. "Mend your dress if you want to, and I'll wash out your bonnet for you towards night, when I get that vest done."
It was Kitty's turn to be astonished now. She had not expected help from her mother.
Tip lingered in the kitchen on Sabbath morning. He looked neat and clean; he had a fresh, clean shirt, thanks to the washing which his mother had done "towards night." He was all ready for school, yet he waited.
Kitty clattered around, making rather more noise even than usual, as she washed up the few poor dishes.
Evidently Tip was thinking about her. The truth was, his lamp had shown him a lesson that morning like this: "Freely ye have received, freely give." He stopped at that verse, reading no further. What did it mean I Surely it spoke to him. Had not God given, oh,somany things to him? Had He not promised to give him heaven for his home? Now, here was the direction: "Freely give." What, and to whom? To God? Surely not. Tip was certain that he had nothing to give to God; nothing but his poor, sinful heart, which he believed the Saviour had taken and made clean.
What could he give to any one? He leaned out of his little window, busy with this thought. Kitty came out to the door, and pumped her pan full of water. He looked down on her. There was Kitty; had he anything which he could give her? He shook his head mournfully; not a thing. But wouldn't it be the same if he could help her to get something? What if he could coax her to go to Sunday school; perhaps it would do for her all that it had done for him. And at this moment the unwearied Satan came with his wicked thoughts.
"Kitty would be a pretty-looking object to go to Sabbath school,—not a decent thing to wear! Everybody would laugh at her and at you. Besides, I don't believe she would go, if youdidask her; she would only make fun of you. Better not try it."
"Oh, Tip Lewis," said his conscience, "what a miserable coward you are! After all you have promised, you won't risk a laugh for the sake of getting Kitty into the Sabbath school!"
"Yes, I will," said Tip, and he ran downstairs.
And this was why he lingered in the kitchen,—not knowing just what to say. Kitty helped him.
"Tip," said she, "I suppose they sing over at that Sunday school, don't they?"
"I guess they do;" and Tip's eyes brightened. "Ever so many of them sing at once, and it sounds grand, I tell you. They play the melodeon, too: don't you want to go and hear it?"
"Humph! I don't know. I don't suppose it will be any stupider than staying at home. I get awful sick of that. If I knew the way, maybe I would go."
"Oh, I'll take you!" said Tip, in a quick, eager way. He wanted to speak before his courage failed.
So Kitty, in her stiff blue sunbonnet and green calico dress, went to Sabbath school. There was no mission class for girls, so Mr. Parker sent her among the gaily-dressed little girls in Miss Haley's class; but Mr. Holbrook detained Tip.
"Edward, you intend to come to Sabbath school regularly, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I think we must leave your place in the mission seat to be filled by some other boy, and you may come forward to my class."
It is doubtful whether Tip will ever see a prouder or happier moment than that one in which he followed the minister down the long room to hisownclass. But when he saw the seat full of boys, his face grew crimson. At the end of the seat was Ellis Holbrook, the minister's son,—the boy who but a few days before had, he believed in his heart, told a wicked story about himself, and gained him a severe punishment. He did not feel as though he could sit beside that boy, even in Sabbath school. But Mr. Holbrook waited, and sit down hemust. Ellis moved along to give him room, and disturbed him neither by word nor look during the lesson. But Tip's heart was full of bitterness, and he thought the pleasure of that morning gone. The lesson was of Christ and His death on the cross, and, as he listened, hard thoughts began to die out. The story was too new; it touched too near his heart not to calm the angry feelings and to interest him wonderfully.
As soon as school was dismissed, Mr. Holbrook turned to him. "What disturbs you to-day, Edward?"
Tip's face grew red again. "I—I—nothing much, sir."
"Have you and Ellis been having trouble in school?"
"He has been gettingmeinto trouble," spoke Tip boldly, finding himself caught.
Mr. Holbrook sat down again. "Can you tell me about it, Edward?"
"He said I threw paper balls, and Mr. Burrows whipped me; and I didn't."
"Are you sure you didn't?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you say so at the time?"
"Over and over again, but he said hesawme."
"Edward, have you always spoken the truth? Is your word to be believed?"
Tip's eyes fell and his lip quivered. "I've told a great many stories," he said at last, in a low, humble tone; "but thistrulyisn't one. I'm trying to tell the truth after this, and Jesus believes what I have said this time."
"So do I, Edward," answered Mr. Holbrook gently, even tenderly. "Ellis was mistaken. But I see you are angry with him; can't you get over that?"
Tip shook his head. "He got me whipped for nothing, sir."
"Suppose Christ should follow that rule, Edward, and forgive only those who had treated Him well; would you be forgiven to-day?"
This was a new thought to Tip, and made him silent. Mr. Holbrook held out his hand for the little red Bible.
"Let me show you what this lamp of yours says about the matter."
And Tip's eyes presently read where the minister's finger pointed: "If ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses."
"Trespasses mean sins," explained Mr. Holbrook; then he turned away.
All this time Kitty had been standing waiting,—not for Tip, she didn't expect his company,—but for the stylish little girls to get fairly started on their way to church, so she could go home without having any of them look at or make fun of her.
Kitty had not been having a very good time: she had the misfortune to fall into the hands of a teacher who thought if she asked the questions in the question-book, and if one scholar could not answer, passed on to the next, she had done her duty. So the singing was pretty nearly all Kitty had cared for. God was leaving most of the work for Tip to do, after all. He went over to her now, and walked down the road with her. The boys had all gone, as well as the girls, so there was nothing to hinder their walking on quietly together.
"How did you like it, Kitty?" he asked.
"Oh, I didn't think much of it. I sat by the ugliest girl in town, and she made fun of my bonnet and my shoes. Ihateher."
Tip had a faint notion in his heart that Kitty also needed the verse which had just been given him; but he had other thoughts about her. God's Spirit was at work. Having taken her to Sabbath school, having begun a good work, he wanted it to go on. It was very hard to speak to Kitty; he didn't know what to say; but all the way down the hill there seemed to ring in his ears the message, "Freely ye have received, freely give."
"Kitty," he said at last, "don't you want to be a Christian?"
"I don't know what a Christian is."
"But wouldn't you like to love Jesus?"
"How do I know?" replied Kitty shortly. "I don't know anything about Jesus."
"Oh, didn't you hear, in the lesson to-day, about how He loves everybody, and wants everybody to love Him, and how He died so we could?"
"I don't know a thing about the lesson. I counted the buttons on Miss Harley's dress most all the time; they went up and down the front, and up and down the sides, and everywhere."
"Oh, but, Kitty, you surely heard the hymn,—