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'I HEY Sl'OOD LEANING ON" EITHER SIDE.
OVER THE GATE
BY
MARY LOWE DICKINSON
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY
NEW YORK
2re.', i J
CONTENTS.
page
Over the Gate, 5
A Child of the Kingdom, 17
" Because I Live, Ye Shall Live Also," . . 25
Home for Thanksgiving 39
OVER THE GATE.
" Peace on earth! Yes, I'm sure it
belongs to Christmas, but it is the one
time in the year when peace is impos¬
sible," and the speaker gave a little nerv¬
ous laugh that showed more trouble
than mirth.
The two were walking home from
church together—bright, clever, ener¬
getic Mrs. Wait, of whom her friends
spoke as " such a busy woman," and
whom her pastor called "an active, work¬
ing Christian," and Miss Helen Holmes,
whom no one ever thought of calling an
old maid, but whom everybody thought
and spoke of as " a maiden lady." She
made no answer to her neighbor's little
outbreak, but there was a question in
her gentle glance, under which Mrs.
Wait began at once to elaborate and
explain.
" I hope you won't think that the
reason I find no peace in Christmas is
6
OVER THE GATE.
because I'm so bad, though I know the
Bible says there's ' no peace for the
wicked.' I'm glad to have the boys
come home for their holiday, but they
want the house full of young people, and
I want them to have everything they
want. But their racketing and frolic
comes just when everything else comes,
until I feel, as my old colored mammy
used to say, 'as if everyt'ing was all ends
fustward.' Then there's always the
church fair, hurried along to catch the
buyers of presents, and the Christmas
festival for the children, and the tree for
the mission school, to say nothing of
social obligations."
She made a little gasping pause for
breath, and continued :
" Now don't, please, look as if one
needn't be driven by such trivial things
as 'days' and 'receptions' and 'teas.'
If you had daughters, you would know
one couldn't ignore such things alto¬
gether. I assure you, by Christmas I'm
ready to envy the people who can flee
away for the holidays."
There was another momentary pause,
for they had reached Miss Helen's gate,
and she had passed within, and they stood
OVER THE GATE.
7
leaning upon it. Mrs. Wait seemed
unwilling either to come in or to go on.
"There, I've just talked all the way
home about my own worries; and I
really did want to know if the sermon on
' Peace on earth' made you feel as it
made me."
" Not exactly," said Miss Helen ; " but
you needed to talk it all out more than
you needed to hear me talk, and I'm only
glad you felt like trusting me with it."
" Everybody does that," said Mrs.
Wait! "We were saying the other day
at the sewing meeting that we told you
our troubles as if you were the mother
of us all, and when I get a chance I just
rattle on and on. I do want to know
what you think. It always helps me,
but I never seem to have time to listen.
I haven't told half I want to."
" What! nothing more, surely, that
spoils the Christmas peace?"
" Yes, there is; the very things Christ¬
mas brings. The gifts are an awful
burden to one who has so many people
to buy for and so little to buy with."
" Perhaps you are too generous," said
Helen, smiling. "One cannot give to
everybody."
8
OVER THE GATE.
"No, but our children have come to
expect beautiful things. Even the little
children nowadays anticipate what my
little Ned calls ' loads of pwesents.'
They talk for weeks beforehand of what
they will get, and one cannot bear to dis¬
appoint them."
" A mother cannot," said Helen gently.
" Then," said Mrs. Wait, not noticing
the interruption, "there's the crowd of
relatives and friends that one doesn't
want to remember, who make it impos¬
sible to have anything left for the few on
whom one really longs to bestow beauti¬
ful things. Then there are the poor and
the sick, and people who once gave you
something; and by the time what one
ought to do is done, the whole thing is
a burden, and, if I hadn't seen the look in
your eyes, I would have said a nuisance.
What's the use of Pastor White's urging
us to consider the peace on earth ? The
truth is that as the modern Christmas
has come to be, there's no peace in it."
" Did you never think there was so
little peace in it because there was so
little Christ in it?" asked Helen gently.
The brisk little woman started and
colored. Their eyes met.
OVER THE GATE.
9
" All these things we try to do are
supposed to be expressions of our good
will to men. In the Bible the peace
comes first. Should not the good will
be an outgrowth of the peace ? Can it
accomplish much if undertaken in discon¬
tent and unwillingness ? Isn't it so
much fruitless labor and care and worry
and hurry, if undertaken except as
a way of deepening and spreading
peace ? "
" But how is one to keep any peace
under such conditions?"
" One need not; God does the keep¬
ing. Don't you remember it says,
' Thou shalt keep him in perfect
peace'? "
" But I don't understand," began Mrs.
Wait.
" No matter, take it; it is the peace of
God. If we were expected to under¬
stand it, we should not be told that it
' passeth understanding.' We are only
asked to take it."
Mrs. Wait looked puzzled, but the
shamed, nervous look in her eyes was
softened by a tender, shadowy mist.
Miss Helen laid her hands on the other
hands resting upon the gate and spoke
IO OVER THE GATE.
tenderly to her friend. " If He would
come to bring us peace, and die because
he was so anxious that we should have
it, and say when he went away that he
left it for us, do you think we need try to
make our Christmas without it? Don't
you think we might try this year to take
Christmas gift beforehand? And then
having not only his peace, but his joy in
its possession, we should be so happy
and so at rest that all our Christmas
work would be from the eager readiness
of a genuine loving goodwill. Then we
wouldn't make a single gift that did not
mean an addition, even if ever so small,
to some heart's peace and joy."
Sometimes we live next door to people,
and are strangers all the same. Some¬
times suddenly, without our planning it
or knowing it, the door into the next
heart swings open and another soul
looks in ; or, if God so wills and His hour
has come, one enters the other life, carry¬
ing on some subtle wave of sympathy the
message of God. So two women who
were neighbors clasped hands over the
gate, and they were friends. After that,
busy Mrs. Wait found sometimes a peace¬
ful half hour to " run in next door " and
IN THE FIRELIGHT.
OVER THE GATE.
II
sit for half an hour in the firelight with
her quiet friend.
Such a half hour came after the holi¬
days were over. " I never dreamed a
Christmas could be so full," said Mrs.
Wait thoughtfully, as she watched the
flicker of the flame.
"Full of hustle, of drive, of worry, of
doing nothing one liked and everything
one disliked?" asked Helen gently, in
reply.
" No, indeed," was the fervent answer.
" Full of joy, and, better than that, full
of a sweet and abiding peace. The
excitement is over and the peace
remains."
" How did you manage to keep so
peaceful, dear?" asked Miss Holmes.
"Manage? Why, I just didn't man¬
age. I never lay awake one night plan¬
ning, worrying. You taught me that He
would keep me in peace. Whenever the
old worries arose, I just stayed my poor,
wavering, wobbling, bothered mind on
him. For example, when Bob wrote
that he knew I hated a racket, but he
wanted to bring home ' two jolly good
fellows' to spend the holidays, and wrote
that they were 'just a little wild,' but he
12
OVER THE GATE.
liked them better than all the other boys
in school, I felt as if the new sacred
Christmas that I meant to make in the
home was spoiled at the outset, and I was
in almost a panic of distress that my boy
should have come already to like that
kind. But when I took it to Him, I
somehow felt how much he loved those
fellows who were ' just a little wild,' and
began to ask if possibly our home was to
be his Christmas gift to them. And
before they came I really wanted them,
and the welcome they got was right out
of my heart. Bob was rather used to
seeing me rebel, and just endure things,
but he wasn't prepared to see me happy
to have him come with these two fellows
in train.
" And when I saw him alone, he broke
out, ' Oh, mother, you are just—I mustn't
say a brick—but you are just fine ! Fred
and Will think you're just too sweet for
anything. You see their mother died
when they were in knickerbockers, and
Will worries about Fred, for their father
is—well, he isn't like my Daddy—and
Fred takes after him. But Will,—he's
my chum,—he and I thought, if only
you would invite them, it might—well,
OVER THE GATE.
13
I clunno, mother—you know what I
mean ' and he gave me a great hearty
hug and turned away."
" So God had kept your boy, and sent
you some of his other boys, letting you
help him to give them a real Christmas."
"Yes, and I was glad of the chance.
It seemed to me there was never so little
money. And here were two more to be
remembered, and I found the money
worry getting a strong grip on my soul,
and the problem seemed too hard for me
to solve. It did not seem right to spend
what we could not afford. It did not
seem right to disappoint those we loved,
and the many others we had taught to
expect our gifts. After a worrying, try¬
ing day in the crowded shops, trying to
find twenty-five dollars' worth of things
for fifteen, I came home exhausted; and
that night, dear, I came in to see you.
Your maid told me to go up to your
room, and you would be at liberty soon.
On your table was your open Bible. My
eye fell upon these words : ' Every good
gift and every perfect gift is from above,
and cometh down from the Father of
lights.'
" I wondered suddenly if these gifts of
14
OVER THE GATE.
mine were really good and perfect gifts,
worthy for me to offer as coming through
my hands from Him. Would they add
to the peace in the hearts of those for
whom I meant them? If not, what a
sham and pretense to call them Christ¬
mas gifts.
"You were still detained. I stole out,
told the girl not to disturb you, and went
home. Bob and his sisters were in the
parlor. 'Here she is,'said Kate. 'We
came in from the concert, and father said
that you had run in next door, that you
were all tired out shopping and ought to
have gone to bed; but the Christmas
fever was on, and there wouldn't be any
rest for you till the holidays were over.
And he'd be glad enough when they were
gone.' ' Now we don't like that, mother,'
said Bob. ' Dear old Daddy, he wouldn't
growl at the holidays if he wasn't upset
in his mind ; and you, Mamsie, dear, why
should you get tired over shopping ?'
" ' Oh, everybody does, I suppose,'
said I, ' and I oughtn't to let your father
see it.'
"' Look here, mother,' said Kate.
'We've been talking, Bob and I, and we
want to tell you something. You know
OVER THE GATE.
15
you had Fred and Will here, and took a
lot of trouble and let us spend a lot of
money, and we want that to be our
Christmas this year.'
"'Fact is,' broke in Bob, 'you've no
idea what it has meant to those fellows.
Fred said to me if he'd had such a
mother as you, he'd been ashamed—just
ashamed—to get fast; and I'd be the worst
kind of a cad if ever I went wild. And
I told him he might bet his head I wasn't
that kind, and never would be, either.'
" ' That was rather slangy, don't you
think ? ' I asked.
"'Yes, and Fred said so. He prides
himself on being a gentleman, you know,
and I told him I'd quit being slangy if
he'd quit being slimy. And we shook
hands on it ; and Will says that promise
is the best Christmas gift he could have.'
And so we talked, and the girls settled
it that they should do the shopping ; and
I told them what I had learned of God
from you, and we decided to give only
what it was just to ask of father, and to
give that where it meant blessing and
comfort and peace—not a gift because of
any other reason whatever. If social
obligations had grown up, we would find
i6
OVER THE GATE.
other ways to cancel them, but we would
not pay them in counterfeit Christmas
presents.
"Altogether, it has been the sweetest
Christmas of my life ; and," she added,
with her own bright smile, " my best gift
came in your dear hand long ago over
the garden gate."
A CHILD OF THE KINGDOM.
"As if I hadn't enough to do, with
Teddy a cripple, and you out of work,
and—and " The young woman cut
off what else she would have said with
little hysterical gasps.
" And—and—" her husband repeated
after her—" and me out of work and
given over to the drink. Now listen,
Nannie," he said, in a voice that was
struggling to be kind.
"You never mind what you bring
upon me," she sobbed.
" But this time I do mind," he pleaded.
" Bess won't be any bother. She'll be a
help to you. It's true, Teddy's a cripple,
and I'm no good when the whisky gets
me; but all the same the little girl's my
sister's child, and there was nobody but
me to take her after the funeral; and
here she is, and here she's going to bide
so long as we've got any place but the
street."
"But you know, John, that when you
are off on a spree I have all I can do to
17
18 A CHILD OF THE KINGDOM.
feed Teddy, and I go hungry myself ; and
now to have another child to feed and
keep clean and whole."
" Hush, now," said John Carter, glanc¬
ing as if ashamed at the girl not yet ten
years old, who stood still on the thresh¬
old, where he had left her, hearing every
word. " Hush ! Bess can keep herself
clean and whole. Haven't I seen her
takin' care of her poor sick mother ?
She'll mind Teddy, she'll save ye steps,
she'll fetch and carry for ye, and in a
week ye'll be shamed enough that ye
didn't give her a decent welcome. Any¬
how, she's goin' to bide," he added dog¬
gedly, taking off his coat and sitting
down at the window, and deliberately
lighting his pipe.
Then silence fell. John waited to see
if the outraged woman would relent.
She went on with her preparation of the
supper, and the griddles of the cook
stove rattled as if they felt the angry
tremor of her hands. Soon he looked at
the child, and turned over one rough
hand as it rested on his knee, till the
palm lay upward and open. The forlorn
little girl came and laid hers within it, a
grateful flush creeping to her brow. He
A CHILD OF THE KINGDOM. 19
held her gently, but with the other hand
he seized that of his wife, as she whisked
past to pull the supper table out.
" Stop a minute, Nan," he said.
" What if you had gone, and it was
Teddy had to find a home?"
" He'd have. you," she answered.
" But I'm no good, Nan. But," he
added, pulling her nearer, until one arm
was around one and one the other, " I'm
no good; I'm such a brute. But, Nan,
I'm gfoinor to do better, see if I don't !"
00 '
and slowly the hard lines softened in the
worried, anxious face, and she said
finally, "It isn't that I'm stingy, John.
It's that we are never sure of enough for
ourselves; and it's the care and the
watching. How am I to keep her off
these awful streets ? "
"Never you mind, Nannie; I'll take
her to the Five Points Mission, and the
ladies there perhaps will tell me what to
do."
"Indeed, you won't," said the little
woman, as if she had suddenly changed
her mind. " I'll take her 'round myself
and put her in the day school. Run
away into that bedroom there, Bessie,
and take off your hat. Don't make a
20 A CHILD OF THE KINGDOM.
noise, for Teddy's in there having his
nap. We'll have some supper right
away," she added.
" I can set the table and wash the
dishes," said Bessie.
"Can you? Then you shall help;"
and when she was gone, the wife pulled
away from the strong hand, but not in
anger. " I was real mean, John," she
said.
" No, only out of sorts and tired out.
I don't wonder. It's not your fault,"
and he let her go and smoked his pipe.
And meantime, in the adjoining bed¬
room, two little pallid hands were
pressed tight against a pair of soft
brown eyes to keep back the tears. The
hat thrown aside, the child-face was wan
and pitiful, unchildlike in that the marks
of a real sorrow were upon it. In her
homesickness and desolation she found
it hard not to cry out aloud to the
mother who could not hear. But re¬
membering suddenly that she was not to
make a noise, in her despair she threw
herself upon the bed and thrust her wet
face into the pillow. As she did so
something, attached to the black ribbon
about her neck, fell against her cheek.
A CHILD OF THE KINGDOM.
21
It was her little silver cross, the one her
mother wore—the one her mother gave
her one day, telling her it would remind
her to love everybody and to be gentle
and help everybody, as Jesus did. Amid
her sobs she kissed it again and again.
Then, before she could look up, two
childish hands were clasping her neck,
patting and smoothing her cheek, and
she opened her eyes to find a sweet child
face and a tangle of golden curls snug¬
gled as closely as possible to her neck.
Her sobbing suddenly hushed with the
delight of something that seemed to love
her and to like to have her near ; she
drew the little form closer into her arms.
As if quite at home there, the little lad
slept on, and there when the supper was
ready the mother found them, both fast
asleep, and into her own tired eyes the
tears sprang, as she went back to John
on tiptoe.
"She's just beat out with the journey
and with grieving for her mother; she's
cried herself to sleep, and Teddy's asleep,
too, snuggled up just as if he'd known her
all his life. I'll let 'em alone. It's no
trouble to keep a little supper warm."
Yet it was not always easy, even after
22 A CHILD OF THE KINGDOM.
a home-coming- that began so sadly and
ended so sweetly as this. Bessie adopted
the little lad with the golden curls and
heavenly face and little crooked back into
her heart of hearts. She loved him with
an adoring intensity that won and kept
her a place in the heart of his anxious
mother; but it made her, too, the natural
recipient of all the worry and fret and
burden of that over-anxious heart.
And yet, there came a day when the
love and the life of a little child, set by
God in the midst, led that whole house¬
hold into the Kingdom of God. The
limits of our space forbid the daily living
out of the Christ-life in the child-life day
by day before our eyes, but its tender,
pathetic patience, its unfailing love, bore
fruit a hundred-fold. It found its way to
the light when one night in the Bowery
Mission of New York a strong, clear-
eyed, cheery-voiced man said, "I'm a
reformed drunkard. I'm glad to come
in here and say it. I owe it, under God,
to a little girl that he sent into my
home—a child who would love me and
would believe in me, even when my own
wife had no hope and my own boy felt
nothing but fear."
A CHILD OF THE KINGDOM. 23
In a group of women sitting in an
upper chamber of the Five Points
Mission, making garments for the chil¬
dren of the slums, the one whose needle
flew fastest was " Mother Nannie." And
her tongue kept pace with her needle as
she told the other women what a blessing
the little stranger, Bess, had been.
" I was just as hateful as could be when
she came, and John told me that if I
wouldn't take her, he'd bring her here.
I've thanked my stars ever since that I
came to my senses in time."
"You mean you thanked the Lord,"
said a sad-faced woman at the cutting-
table.
"Yes, indeed, I meant just that, for if
ever he sent a blessing right out of
heaven to a poor, fretty, undeservin'
creature, he sent one to me that night.
Just as John's ashamed to drink, I'm
ashamed to worry and scold; and as for
Ted,—our poor little Ted,—she's nursed
him, and indeed now, since the ladies
made her one of the teachers here, he
comes and goes with her, and thinks he
fairly runs the school, he's so necessary
and important." She stopped suddenly,
for in the doorway stood a beautiful boy,
24 A CHILD OF THE KINGDOM.
leaning on a crutch, and beside him a
young girl with eyes that were tender
and kind.
"Going home, mother? Bess and I
are ready."
" Run along then, I want to finish this
bit of work. I'll be there in a little
while," and as they turned away she
whispered to the woman next her, " Did
you see something shiny on his jacket
and on her dress ? That's the little silver
cross. John's got one, too. Wears it
right out in sight. She put one on me
the same time—one Sunday night when
we had a real solemn little meetin' and
John gave up drink for good."
"What did you give up?" asked her
listener.
" Me ! Oh, tempers and tantrums and
worries. I used to be a master-hand to
fuss ; but that," she added, with a cheery
toss of her head, " was a good while ago—
before Bess came."
"BECAUSE I LIVE, YE SHALL
LIVE ALSO."
The Floral Committee was holding a
meeting. It was a bright young com¬
mittee, including two recently married
women, one young mother, and three or
four of the loveliest girls of the church.
True, they were all in the same "set,"
represented the best families, and were
especially proper persons to serve on a
floral committee, since not one of them
but could afford a bunch of violets at her
belt or a cluster of roses for every plate
when she invited the others to luncheon.
They had prefaced their meeting by
such a flower-decked luncheon at the
house of the chairman, and proceeded to
business without leaving the table. It
was a serious business, too, if they did
go at it very much like the four and
twenty blackbirds, who " when the pie
was opened all began to sing."
They were all members of the " First
Presbyterian Church," which had married
5?
26
44BECAUSE I LIVE,
and buried many of their fathers and
mothers before them, and had in due time
claimed them as the beloved members of
its flock. They loved the old church, too,
and now that for the first time, departing
from its lifedong habit, it was about to
give its somber shadows over to Easter
decoration, their work assumed a great
importance.
" Let 's have it just as lovely as the
Episcopal church," said Edith Holt, her
feathers fluttering as she bobbed her
head to see around the mass of tulips
and ferns in the middle of the table.
"Of course ours will be a great deal
lovelier than that. Our gray stone will
lend itself so perfectly to color," answered
stately Miss Wharton.
" But it mustn't be gaudy, girls," said
Belle Gray.
"No, indeed," broke in another voice;
"we don't want to look fixed up and
fussy, as if flowers were stuck in or tied
on everywhere."
" But if we don't stick them in or wire
them on, we shall have an enormous bill,"
said practical little Ray Ford, "and you
remember they wouldn't appropriate any
money from the funds."
YE SHALL LIVE ALSO."
*7
"Of course not. It was all we could
expect if they gave consent to our doing
it," answered another; " but of course we
ought to consider how to pay before we
order our flowers."
" But how can we tell what it will cost
till we know what we want?" asked an¬
other.
And then there followed such a shower
of " I think," and " I don't think," and
" My way would be," and " This isn't the
way," and " That is the way," that the
marvel is that out of the merry chatter
there ever issued a plan.
Amid it all Marion Gray, the pastor's
daughter, held her peace and waited ; and
when the stream of talk had bubbled it¬
self out, in a few quiet words she outlined
a wise little plan, to which they all agreed
—going home each happy in the belief
that she had been an important and gen¬
uine help.
Since no money was to come from the
church, it was arranged that each member
of the committee should contribute or
solicit among her own friends her share of
that which would pay for all the flowers
to be bought. Instead of hiring a florist
to decorate, each member of the commit-
28
'BECAUSE / LIVE,
tee was to call to her aid two other per¬
sons, who would pledge themselves to be
workers and not lookers-on. A sub-com¬
mittee for purchasing was appointed, and
that same night the evening paper of the
town issued the following item :
" This year for the first time the old
stone Presbyterian Church will be pro¬
fusely decorated with flowers at Easter¬
tide. The work is in the hands of a
committee of prominent young ladies.
The purchasing committee consists of the
Misses Kate Morton, Marion Gray, and
Edith Holt."
In the outskirts of the town, a quarter
of a mile beyond the pavements, behind
a tangled growth of shrubbery and knot¬
ted old fruit trees, stood a rambling gray
cottage. A long, low, old-fashioned hot¬
house stretched at right angles from one
of the wings. Everything within and
without bore the look of dingy shabbi-
ness that showed the lack of means. In
a wheel-chair in one of the rooms, lighted
only by the wood blaze on the hearth, sat
a feeble and suffering man. Around the
house a frail, gentle-faced woman moved
YE SHALL LIVE ALSO."
29
softly, preparing the evening meal. The
outer door stood open, and the gleam of
the fire made the walk a track of light,
along which a young girl came with a
quick and eager step. A moment later,
with a face as bright and fresh as any one
of the floral committee, she placed a kiss
on the sick man's forehead. As the little
mother passed she drew her too within
the circle of her arm. " Such glorious
news I have, dear father," she said. " I
came home almost as if on wings. School
was never so tiresome and the children
never so restless as to-day; but as I came
along, thoroughly fagged out, little
Johnny Stokes, the newsboy who used
to be in my class, handed me the Evening
Journal, and all the way home I have
been building my castles in the air. See,
mother dear, it says that the Presbyterian
church is going to be all decorated with
o o
flowers at Easter. Now, father, we shall
make our fortune. When brother went
away to the war and you were taken sick,
we thought we could sell no more flow¬
ers ; but mother and I have worked over
them late at night and early in the morn¬
ing, and now we can sell them for the
decoration of our church. And if we can,
30
"BECAUSE I LIVE,
down comes the doctor's bill and some of
the other things that have been making
your blessed face so thin and white," she
added, drawing down the mother's head
until one bright cheek rested against the
faded one.
" But how do you know they will buy
our flowers?" asked the little woman
timidly.
" Of course they will. I know those
girls on that committee. We were all
together in the High School. They have
plenty of money, and I am going to get
up long before light to-morrow morning,
so that I may know every single plant
that can be coaxed along. There are
ever so many beautiful things that have
been slow in coming forward. Now I
believe they have been keeping them¬
selves back just for this Eastertime."
" Thank God for that!" said the little
mother fervently. " I would like to feel
that the most beautiful things had been
growing for his day," she said softly.
" Our hearts ougBt to offer him the best
they have, and nature surely should be
glad to do the same."
Two days later Kate Morton went to
YE SHALL LIVE ALSO." 31
spend a week in Boston. After she had
gone a note came to Marion Gray, which
she immediately remailed to her friend in
the city.
" My dear Miss Gray," the letter said;
" having noticed the item in the Journal
concerning the decoration of our church,
I write to offer the flowers of our green¬
house, if the committee should find them
desirable. We have not been able to
show as good results since father's illness
and my brother's absence, but mother
and I have watched them carefully, and
we have many beautiful things."
And Marion had written thanking her,
and saying that she had sent her letter
on to Miss Morton, the chairman of the
purchasing committee, who had gone to
Boston for a week.
" I shall be glad of Miss Grant's
flowers," answered Kate, " and am so
much obliged that she offered them.
Since I shall not be back until Good
Friday, suppose you give her all direc¬
tions, and I will write her myself after I
return."
And Marion, who, as the right hand of
32
" BECA USE I LIVE,
both father and mother, was full of home
work and parish work, wrote Ruth to
Grant, making; all arrangements for
' o o
delivery of the treasures, but leaving to
Kate the adjustment of the price.
" It never rains but it pours," said
Ruth gleefully on Friday afternoon.
"Only think, mother, here are the Epis¬
copal and the Baptist churches both after
our precious flowers, and we have
promised them every one."
" I wish we had more," said the gentle
little mother; " but if we could only have
enough for one, then I'm glad they go to
our own church." for she loved every
stone in the edifice in which through many
troubled years she had found refuge and
comfort and peace.
And even Ruth, who sometimes found
it hard to see God's hand in all the sick¬
ness and poverty that pressed them
.sorely, saw his love and compassion in
this provision to take their flowers. In
this grateful mood she really stripped the
hot-house, and went herself to the church
to see her treasures well placed, finding it
pleasant to come again in contact with
the young people from whom as much as
possible she had held aloof since the mis-
YE SHALL LLVE ALSO."
33
fortunes that drove her to her daily
task.
Upon this short-lived pleasure broke
Kate Morton's voice. "You were just
the dearest thing, to offer us all this
wonderful bank of flowers. Of course
the large palms will be returned, but if
you knew how much money you have
saved us, you would feel as we do, just
rejoiced. I spent three times as much as
I ought, anyway, for what I ordered in
the city before I heard of your gift; but it
would have cost a little fortune to get all
we wanted."
Ruth's head was swimming. The
sound of Kate's voice was like a rush of
water in her ears. The sick father, the
doctor's bill, the many things needed for
her parents' comfort, the offer of the
other churches—could it be possible she
had lost her chance at all these? For a
moment she felt as if she must shriek
out above all the strange noise in her
ears, that they were poor, so pinched and
poor, and that she must have money
or take her flowers home again. But she
only hurried out into the shadows and,
breaking away from her companions,
almost ran along the homeward way.
34
" BECA USE I LIVE,
Her own voice sounded strange to her as
she called herself a coward, whose shame
at her poverty and fear of the pity of her
old schoolmates had made her defraud
her own—her poor, worn-out father and
the pale, patient little mother, who would
wait for her to come, and to whom she
had hoped to take a check to bless their
sleep this night.
It was late. Happily the father was
asleep. The mother, feeling with the
mother-heart's true instinct that she was
tired and depressed, let her slip away to
bed without question. And seated by her
open window, with only the stars to
watch, the young soul fought its battle
out. It was so hard not to let her faith
go. She had prayed so long for some
way to give better care to these dear,
aged helpless ones. If Christ was alive—
if he lived in the hearts of these rich and
busy women, could they so carelessly
have taken for granted that she could
make them such a gift ? It seemed like
a mockery to let her be lifted up by such
a hope and leave her to fall more help¬
less than before, having thrown away
their last resource. It was not easy to
trust Him when the way was dark as this.
YE SHALL LIVE ALSO."
35
Try hard as she would, she couldn't make
it seem as if Christ was alive and real
and near. Yet she whispered it out into
the night—if it is true, if he is really
alive to care, alive to love, alive to pity,
then how could she begrudge him the
unpaid flowers ? Would she not hasten
gladly to lay them all at his feet, only
wishing there were more and more and
more ?
Softened by the thought, her soul be¬
gan to be ashamed, not of the others now,
but of herself, her weakened love, her
ever-faltering faith. It was as if the
stones of bitterness and harsh judgment
and hardness were rolled away from her
heart's door by the touch of the Holy
Spirit, and the place ceased to be dark
like a grave. And when the Easter
morning broke, she knew, by the welcome
her own soul gave, that Christ had indeed
risen. As the strains of music rang
through the arches of the old stone
church, her heart as well as her voice
echoed the praise. As she looked at her
flowers breathing out their sweet life
upon his altar, she rejoiced that in her
own home, with all its biting poverty,
some sweet thing had long been growing,
36
'BECAUSE I LIVE,
not for the dear old church, nor the floral
committee, but for her precious risen
Lord.
Empty-handed, but with full hearts,
Ruth and her mother worshiped together.
They had wheeled the father's arm-chair
to the window, so that he might watch
for their return, but when they came in
sight he was not there. They quickened
their footsteps. He heard them on the
porch, and called. The old soldier's voice
of command was softened to a tone of a
happy boy. "Come quickly, mother!
Hurry, Ruth! I am not alone. God
has sent us back from battle, and sick¬
ness, and wandering, the son we counted
lost. He has not told me yet why he did
not come before."
" All in good time, father. Isn't it
enough that I have now come, able to
take care of yon—yes, able and eager to
take all your burdens and cares?"
" But if we give them up, will you run
away to the ends of the earth again ?"
asked Ruth playfully.
" Not so long as God lets me remain,"
answered the young man solemnly. " I
want not only to bear life for you, but
with you, little sister," he said, drawing
YE SHALL LIVE ALSO."
37
the weary girl within the circle of his
arm.
" She has been son and daughter both,"
said her mother tenderly.
"No wonder she is pale and worn.
My own life has been divided between
mourning you as dead and fearing that
she would die."
The girl looked up with shining eyes.
" Christ is alive, you know, dear mother,
and he says, 'Because I live, ye shall live
also.' There was never any reason for us
to doubt or fear."
A few days later came a letter to
Ruth from her old classmate, Marion
Gray.
" My heart is not quite at rest about
our lovely Easter Day. We were an in¬
experienced committee, and we did not
manage it right. Another time, instead
of begging our money from the rich, I
think we should earn it by real Lenten
self-denial. And I am not sure but when
we had earned it, we could please Him
better by using it for those who suffer or
are in need, than by adorning his house
with flowers, beautiful as they might be.
This year I fear we robbed some of his
38 " YE SHALL LIVE ALSO.'
children. If you know of any such, will
you not help me to repay them ?"
And Ruth answered: "Our little
grudging gifts are nothing, but I would
like you to know that through this Easter
experience I feel I have been made a
sharer of the unspeakable gift bestowed
on those who live in Him."
HOME FOR THANKSGIVING.
" I didn't never calkerlate on cele-
bratin' no such Thanksgivin' as this 'ere
bids fair to be," said old Polly Jenkins,
lifting her eyebrows till her wrinkled
forehead was lost under her brown " false
front." By this spasmodic movement
she could see the expression of Mrs.
Howland's face without hunting for her
" fur-away" glasses, when she already
had her " near-bys " on.
It was a rugged face, tanned like
leather, with features hard as the faces
boys carve out of a hickory nut. Every
line softened, however, to a tenderness
that was almost beauty, as she peered
into the gentle face opposite, at the same
time thrusting forward her black earthern
teapot with a roundabout shake of invita¬
tion that said plainer than words, " Plenty
for another cup."
" Not any more, thank you, Patty,"
said Mrs. Howland, and then with a
little sigh she added, "No it is not the
39
40 HOME FOR THANKSGIVING.
same Thanksgiving, but I like to believe
it is always the same Heavenly Father.
We seem to be under a cloud, Patty, but
even the clouds are ' big with mercies.'
" That's jest like you," said Patty, set¬
ting the teapot down with an energy of
disapproval. " I wish I had your knack
of finding mercy-drops in every down-
splash."
"Why shouldn't I?" asked the other
gently, going from the little round table
over to the window, where she picked the
dead leaves from the geraniums, through
whose foliage she could see the neighbor¬
ing hills. " The hymn says, ' The clouds
are big with mercy.' Of course, when
they break, it has to be in blessings.
There isn't anything else in them."
" Yes," answered Patty, vigorously rat¬
tling the spoons in her dishwater, " but it
says, ' in blessings on your head' Now,
I can see the bustin' and the blessin', but
Providence does seem to me to be jest a
leetle grain partial. The drops don't
seem to fall where they're needed most."
"You are blinded by your goodness to
me, Patty. You can't bear to see me
want anything. Do you suppose the One
who loves us is going to see us lack for
HOME FOR THANKSGIVING. 41
any good thing? Why, I have found in
every trial something to be thankful for."
"Well, that's more than I can do for
you," said Patty almost snappishly.
" Look over yonder," she said, pointing
with a bony finger to the hills opposite.
" There stands your home—the house you
was born in, and where I played with you,
and begun to take care of you when your
mother wouldn't let me go to the poor-
house, after my own was dead and gone.
There you grew up, the sweetest girl
in the place. There I see you married to
the nicest young man in the country.
There I took keer of yer babies, and
loved 'em as they grew up as ef they was
my own. Now, what was there to be
thankful for, I'd like to know, in that
fever that took away your husband ?
What mercy was it to have his partner
get all the property, and leave you to
struggle to educate your children ?"
" Hush, Patty, hush ! It hurts me to
find you so bitter. These things, indeed,
seemed cruel, but think of the multitudes
of women who never knew such love and
care and comfort as blessed me for many
happy years. How could I complain
when the loneliness and sorrow and
42
HOME FOR THANKSGIVING.
deprivation came to me that others often
have to bear for a whole life long ? "
" Don't see's them other folks you
speak of got their fair sprinklin' of massy-
drops, either. Anyhow, I should think
you had had enough trouble without
having to lose the house, and even the
land it stood on, and come here to this
old cabin—as I should call it, if it wasn't
that your father gave it to me for a home,
and that I love every plaguey creakin'
board my foot treads on, and every
rattlin' old winder shutter—and- "
"That's enough," laughed Mrs. How-
land. " I love it, too, and if you want to
know what the loss of the old home gave
me to be thankful for, let me tell you it
made me know your dear, faithful, loving
heart as I never could have known it
otherwise. You took us in "
"'Twas yourn. 'Twant none er my
• ) | M
earnin !
" Certainly it was. You earned it over
and over, and you took us in. You have
been more than a sister to me, and like
another mother to my children. Why,
how could I ever have sent Ned to col¬
lege and fitted Edna for a teacher if you
had not saved your wages all your life ?
HOME FOR THANKSIGVING.
43
Why, Patty, it's worth going through all
to know the worth of such a friend as
you."
As she talked, every muscle of Patty's
rugged face indulged in active gymastics
in the struggle to remain unmoved, but the
secret gave way at last to sobs. She
threw her blue checked apron over her
head, and, dropping into her rocker,
swayed and sobbed like a child.
" Why, what is the matter, Patty ?
What has upset you so ?" asked the
gentle lady, smoothing and patting the
bowed head till the face, red and tear-
stained, emerged from the apron.
" I felt jest like a shower bath, when
somebody give the string a sudden yank.
'Twould be a job to find out the blessin'
in that cloudbust, I guess."
" But why are you so troubled, dear? "
said Mrs. Howland, straightening the false
front slyly. "Things are bad enough,
and we can't send for the children to
come home at Thanksgiving ; but they
are not so very much worse than before.
Perhaps they can come at Christmas."
" They can't ! Dunno's they'll ever get
here again. P'act is—fact is"—and her
face began to twitch suspiciously again—
44 HOME FOR THANKSGIVING.
" fact is, I got a letter last night. I hid it
so's not to break your rest, but there
aint no more money nowhere. That
there bank that had my last two thousand
dollars has gone and busted and broke.
Don't see no blessin's tumblin' out er
that cloud on your head, nor yet on
mine."
" On the contrary, my poor, dear Patty,
there's a blessing even here. Don't
grieve so," she said, pulling the apron
away, while her own voice trembled.
" For a long time, Patty, I have felt, and
so have Ned and Edna, that we ought
not to continue to live on your savings,
but I did not quite know what to do, and
waited and hoped for the day when the
children should be able to take care of
both of us. But more and more I have
felt of late that I ought not to wait."
" Don't say another word, dear," broke
in Patty. " I don't want to live if I've
got to see you earning your bread."
" Well, I haven't supposed that I could
earn it, and it's one of the things to be
thankful for that I can, and that I want
to earn not mine only, but yours."
" You aint goin' to step one step, Mary
Howland, 'thout me to look after you,"
HOME FOR THANKSGIVING. 45
said the old woman, drawing her bony
frame up to its fullest height.
" Not if you will go with me, Patty. I
never want to leave you while I live."
" That's one mercy !" ejaculated Patty.
" I told you you would find the mercies
if you looked for them. Here's another !
Where do you think I'm going?"
" I dunno. 'Taint anywhere that I
can't take my canary and my cat, is it ? "
" No ; it's only across the road and up
the hill and down between the rows of
maple trees."
" What! Not to the old place ? "
" Yes ; back to the old home."
" But how can it be ? That old man
who took it—your husband's partner—he
won't give it up."
" He has gone abroad, to reside for a
time in London. He sent his agent here
yesterday, when you were in town, to say
he might be gone some years. He did
not care to keep the house closed. He
asked me and you—yes, you, too, Patty—
and the children, to live there and care
for the place until he wanted it again.
He offered me a compensation for the
service, and I in my foolish pride rebelled,
and felt I could not be hired to go back
46
HOME FOR THANKSGIVING.
to my beloved home by one who I felt
had taken advantage of my helplessness
and need. So, much as I longed for a
sight of the place, I was going to refuse ;
but now I shall accept."
" Let's keep it from the children till
they get here, for now we can have them
home at Thanksgivin'," said Patty eagerly,
and she looked suddenly so radiant that
Mrs. Howland broke forth, " Patty, I
verily believe you were crying not over
the lost money, but because you were
not going to have the children."
"Well, mebby so. Six er one and
half a dozen er the other. I dunno—
but anyhow, I'm thankful to get the
children ! "
And the children came, Ned from
Yale, and Edna from her school in New
York City. What a time they had get¬
ting the old home in order ! What a din¬
ner Patty made ! What an extravagance
they perpetrated when they both went in
the hack, at twenty-five cents apiece, to
the train, that they might see the pleasure
and surprise of the son and daughter of
the house when they drove past the cabin
and up the hill and under the naked
maple boughs.
HOME FOR THANKSGIVING. 47
And what a story they had to tell when
they gathered around the Thanksgiving
table that happy festal night. To the
gentle mother the place was full of mem¬
ories that filled her heart with prayer.
To Patty it was a time of such hilarity
that she lifted her brows in excitement
till her brown <" front " was more awry
than usual. To Ned it was just the
jolliest bit of luck that ever a fellow had.
To Edna it was all like a scene in a story
book—and suddenly she remembered
that she had a chapter to contribute.
She ran upstairs to her traveling bag,
and coming down with a letter in her
hand, said, " Some one of my friends has
prepared a surprise for me. I don't
know what it is or who has done it, but
this came just before I left New York,
with a request that I read it at the home
Thanksgiving dinner. Now guess what
it can be," she asked, holding it up to the
light.
" Some little gift from your pupils,"
said her mother.
" Nonsense ! " said Ned. " A paid-up
policy on your life, bestowed by a grate¬
ful school board who appreciate what a
treasure they have for a teacher."
48
HOME FOR THANKSGIVING.
" Not that," said Patty, blinking over
the top of her "near-bys." " It's a life
membership in a foreign missionary so¬
ciety. I always thought that was the
greatest compliment; or else," she said,
" it may be an offer of marriage, and I
dunno but that's 'bout as good."
"Don't wait," said Ned; "break the
seal."
" You read it," said Edna, handing the
open sheet to her mother.
" My dear Miss Howland," it said. " I
was once your father's friend; I became
his foe. He did me only good; I
wrought him harm. He laid the founda¬
tion of my fortunes; I wrecked his. He
left a family; I am alone. To his wife
and daughter, through my attorneys, I
have given his home and the means to
live therein without a care. More than
that, I leave them something that will
enable them to do the things I left undone
—to visit the widow and fatherless in
their affliction, to serve God, and to bless
the suffering children of men. May this
day be only the beginning of Thanks¬
giving. " Your friend,
"R. C."
27(5114