"The child loved to be taken down to the water's edge." Page 135.
 
 OLD CHRISTIE'S CABIN. 
 
 BY 
 
 EMILY BRODIE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 ' LONELY JACK," " I'NCLE FRED'S SHILLING," " COUSIN DORA," ETC. ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, 
 530 BROADWAY.
 
 3 S)e&fcate 
 
 THIS LITTLE BOOK 
 
 My many dear young Friends, hoping they -will find as 
 
 much happiness in a ministering life as the 
 
 Children of the Story.
 
 STACK 
 
 AKNCI 
 
 5125910 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PACK 
 
 i. ARTHUR'S ARRIVAL g 
 
 II. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL I/ 
 
 in. CHRISTIE'S CABIN 26 
 
 IV. OLD MR. FERRERS 33 
 
 v. MRS. CAMERON'S VISIT . 41 
 
 vi. WILL'S HOME 48 
 
 VII. BIRDIE 54 
 
 VIII. BIRDIE GOES TO REGENT'S PARK 64 
 
 IX. MAKING TEA 7O 
 
 x. HUBERT'S PLAN 78 
 
 xi. RILEY'S WORKSHOP 90 
 
 XII. THE YOUNG WORKPEOPLE IOO 
 
 XIII. THE FLITTING 1 ... IO9 
 
 XIV. TWO LITTLE LONDONERS 119 
 
 XV. STOURCLIFFE 13 
 
 XVI. FIREMEN NEEDED 13$ 
 
 XVII. SAM FINDS A FRIEND 147 
 
 xvni. BERNARD'S LETTER 157
 
 viii Contents. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XIX. THE OLD CASTLE 167 
 
 XX. A BATTLE ROYAL 175 
 
 XXI. OLD MARKHAM . 187 
 
 XXII. A MINISTERING CHILD 195 
 
 XXIII. BERNARD 203 
 
 xxiv. ARTHUR'S DEN 212 
 
 XXV. CHRISTMAS MORNING ' 2IQ
 
 OLD CHRISTIE'S CABIN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 ARTHUR'S ARRIVAL. 
 
 JTHIN a quarter of a mile of the Thames, in 
 the neighbourhood of Barnes and Putney, 
 are still standing some of the old houses 
 that, a century ago, were inhabited by the wealthy of 
 the land. To-day they still tell the tale of their past 
 glories. Many are surrounded by high walls, which 
 enclose the stately trees of many years' growth, and 
 in not a few can be seen the weird-looking branches 
 of a cedar of Lebanon. 
 
 In one of these houses lived old Mr. Ferrers, 
 and there he had lived alone, since the wife of his 
 youth had been taken from him some years before. 
 His only son had gone to India shortly before his 
 mother's death, and lately the news had come by 
 
 9
 
 io Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 telegram that this son had died from a sudden attack 
 of fever, and his widow and little son Arthur were 
 on their way to England. The news had been re- 
 ceived by the old gentleman with wonderful com- 
 posure so his servants said ; but if Mr. Ferrers 
 said little, he probably felt the more. Long years of 
 residence in India had greatly shattered his health, 
 and he was quite unfit to go down to Southampton 
 to receive his daughter-in-law and little grandson ; 
 so he deputed Mrs. Markham, his faithful house- 
 keeper, to do it for him. She had been nurse to 
 the little Arthur's father, and it was with streaming 
 eyes that she watched the large P. and O. steam- 
 ship, as she drew near shore, bearing all that was 
 left of her old favourite. But there was sadder news 
 to be heard still. Just as the vessel had passed 
 Gibraltar, the young Mrs. Ferrers had succumbed 
 to the fatigue and sorrow of the last few months. 
 Little Arthur was not only fatherless, but motherless. 
 
 Passengers had done all they could to comfort 
 the lonely boy ; but there had not been a dry eye 
 on deck as the little fellow, as chief mourner, stand- 
 ing slightly apart from every one else, gazed with 
 awe-struck eyes as they committed to the waves the 
 mother he had loved so dearly. 
 
 And so it was that, when Mrs. Markham reached 
 Cannon Lodge the same evening of the arrival of 
 the vessel, she had no daughter-in-law with her to
 
 A rt/mr's A rrival. 1 1 
 
 cheer the remaining years of the lonely old man only 
 a very sad little boy of seven, who felt strangely 
 shy and ill at ease. For the first time he seemed 
 interested when the train stopped, just before enter- 
 ing London, and he caught sight of the many lights 
 glimmering out of the darkness. 
 
 " Is this London, please ? " he asked in a timid 
 voice, for the highly respectable Markham had some- 
 what over-awed him. 
 
 " Yes, my dear, this is London ; and I am sure 
 you must be tired out. You'll be glad to get to bed, 
 I know." 
 
 In two or three more minutes the train steamed 
 into Waterloo, and shortly Arthur was rattling along 
 over the noisy stones, too bewildered almost to 
 understand where he was. But as they reached 
 the bridge, and he saw the countless gas-lights re- 
 flected in the water, he gave a cry of delight. 
 
 " This must be what my papa told me about," he 
 said, seizing Markham's hand in his excitement, " it is 
 the river, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; this is the river, sure enough. Did 
 your papa tell you about it ? " she asked, interested in 
 her turn. 
 
 " Yes ; he said there was a little room in his old 
 home right at the very top, and he used to sit there, 
 and watch the lights and the boats as they went up 
 and down."
 
 1 2 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 " Bless the boy ! to think he should have heard 
 of that," said Markham to herself; and then aloud, 
 " but that's all filled with lumber now ; I don't think 
 you could get into it." 
 
 She could see, even by the faint light of the gas, 
 the disappointed look upon the little fellow's face. 
 
 Presently he said, " Have we far to go now, Mark- 
 ham ? " 
 
 " Not far. You are very tired, are you not ? " 
 
 " No, not so very," he said doubtfully. " Do you 
 think my grandpapa will be glad to see me ? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear, very glad. He'll have been looking 
 for you all the afternoon, I expect." 
 
 " But he will be sorry that mother hasn't come 
 too, won't he ? He will not know what to do with a 
 little boy like me." 
 
 Markham had no time to answer, for at this 
 moment the carriage drew up at the great wooden 
 gates. They were instantly opened by the gardener, 
 who was close at hand, and the carriage drove up to 
 the front door. 
 
 Mr. Ferrers had also heard the wheels, and was 
 now standing on the step, the evening air blowing 
 his long white hair. The little grandson that the 
 gardener lifted out was a great contrast. Though 
 he was seven years old, he still wore his long fair 
 curls. His mother had been loth to cut them off, 
 and had gladly kept them, saying that grandpapa
 
 Arthur s Arrival. 13 
 
 would like to see them. His cheeks were very pale, 
 and there was a more anxious look in the thoughtful 
 eyes than one would wish to see in so young a 
 child. 
 
 Mr. Ferrers held him closely for a moment, then 
 said, " But where is your mother, Arthur ? " 
 
 " Didn't you know ? " the little fellow said, trying 
 hard to keep back his tears, and looking up appeal- 
 ingly at Markham, as if he could not tell the rest. 
 
 " Come into the library, sir," she said in a shaking 
 voice. He took the boy's ^hand, and slowly, very 
 slowly, did as Markham told him. He sank into 
 his easy chair. 
 
 " Is she gone too ? " he asked ; " tell me quickly, 
 Markham." 
 
 " It is even so, sir. I am grieved to bring such 
 tidings : I will tell you all presently " for she had 
 glanced at Arthur, and felt she could not tell all 
 the sad story before him. There was a dead silence 
 in the room for a minute or two, Arthur standing 
 meanwhile leaning against his grandfather's chair, 
 his big eyes looking at him wistfully. 
 
 Presently Mr. Ferrers said, " Take the boy to 
 the dining-room, Markham ; he must be tired and 
 hungry. Let him go to bed as soon as possible." 
 
 But Arthur was not hungry. He scarcely touched 
 the dainties put before him, and then gladly went 
 upstairs to bed.
 
 14 Old Christies Cabin. 
 
 With kind thoughtfulness, rooms had been pre- 
 pared for Mrs. Ferrers and her little son leading 
 out of one another. Now Markham quietly shut the 
 door of the larger room and led Arthur into the 
 smaller one, which was properly the dressing-room. 
 Here one of the cosiest little beds stood ready for 
 him, and before long Arthur was asleep, happily 
 forgetful of all his sorrows and the new life that 
 was beginning for him. 
 
 The next morning he woke early ; and after gazing 
 round the room for a few seconds, half-wondering 
 where he was, he jumped out of bed, and, lifting the 
 blind, peeped out. If the prospect was somewhat 
 circumscribed, it was pretty enough to please any 
 child. The window looked out on to the back 
 garden. Almost in the centre of the mossy lawn 
 stood the strange, weird cedar. It was May, and 
 the lilacs and laburnums were in full bloom, making 
 the old garden quite radiant in the sunshine. Then 
 there came a wall, and beyond that again another 
 garden. Arthur's pale face lighted up with pleasure 
 as he looked, and the sad anxious expression almost 
 vanished. He wondered what time it was, and 
 wished he could dress, but then remembered that 
 Markham had told him to lie quite still till she 
 came to him. Rather unwillingly he got into bed 
 again, but it seemed dull with the blind down. So 
 out he got once more, and with some difficulty sue-
 
 Arthur 's Arrival. 15 
 
 ceeded in pulling it up high enough for him to see 
 the trees as he lay in bed. It seemed a long time 
 before Markham appeared and told him he might get 
 up ; then her quick eyes glanced at the window. 
 
 "What did you pull the blind up for, Master 
 Arthur ? " she asked sharply. 
 
 " I wanted to see out," said Arthur, looking puzzled 
 at her evident displeasure. 
 
 " Then you must learn to be careful, or you must 
 leave the blinds alone. Just see, you have pulled it 
 up all awry ; it would spoil any blind." 
 
 Arthur managed to say he was very sorry, but he 
 had a hard matter to gulp down his tears. He re- 
 membered just in time that his father always said 
 it was unmanly to cry, and so he mastered himself. 
 
 It seemed very strange to the little boy to go 
 downstairs into the large dining-room and take his 
 breakfast all alone. His grandfather, Markham said, 
 was not very well, and was having breakfast in his 
 own room. Mr. Ferrers had, indeed, had little sleep 
 that night. His heart and head were filled with 
 thoughts of the son he had lost and his young wife. 
 Besides, he was full of perplexity as to the future. 
 What could he do with this little grandson that had 
 so unexpectedly come into his home, with no one to 
 care for him but his old grandfather ? He did not 
 want to see the boy again until he had thought it 
 all over ; and besides, he was so used to his own
 
 1 6 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 company that he was not sure that the child was 
 very welcome under the present circumstances. If his 
 mother had lived they could have had their own 
 apartments, and he need only have seen them when 
 he felt inclined. But the boy was there, and some- 
 thing must be done with him.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 
 THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL. 
 
 >N the other side of the great wall that Arthur 
 had seen was another garden similar to Mr. 
 Ferrers' in size, but different in the way it 
 was kept. Mr. Ferrers took great pride in his ; 
 indeed it was his one hobby ; but it must be con- 
 fessed that the garden on the other side of the wall 
 was rather a wilderness. Dr. Cameron said there 
 were so many children that he had no money to 
 spend on flowers. One part was well cared for, 
 however, and that was the tennis-lawn ; Bernard took 
 care of that ; but otherwise the garden was wild, 
 decidedly wild, and the children loved to have it so. 
 
 While Arthur was taking his breakfast in lonely 
 grandeur, a very different breakfast was going on 
 in the next house. Dr. and Mrs. Cameron were 
 punctual people, but somehow or other, do what 
 they would, everybody was always in a hurry at 
 breakfast-time. Two of the boys had to start 
 
 17
 
 1 8 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 before anybody else, as they went to one of the 
 large public schools in London ; Maude wanted to run 
 off to secure half-an-hour's practising before school ; 
 while her elder sister Ethel had various little household 
 duties to perform. The Chestnuts was a large house 
 for the number of servants that Dr. Cameron could 
 keep, so the daughters took their little part as soon as 
 they were old enough. The two youngest children, 
 Hubert and Gladys, were still enjoying complete 
 childhood, and when breakfast was over were free 
 to go out to the garden, where they took the swing 
 in turns, which was one of their greatest delights. 
 
 But while breakfast was going on that morning 
 Arthur unconsciously became the subject of conver- 
 sation. It was Maude who began it. 
 
 " Mother, do you know old Mr. Ferrers' little 
 grandson arrived last night ? " 
 
 ." He has really come, then. I wonder if the 
 old gentleman is pleased to have them." 
 
 " It is not them, mother ; only the little boy has 
 come. It seems young Mrs. Ferrers died on her way 
 from India." 
 
 " How did you hear, Maude ? " asked Mrs. 
 Cameron, putting down her cup. 
 
 "One of the servants met Mary last evening 
 as she was going to the pillar-box, and said Mrs. 
 Markham had just arrived with only the little boy, 
 and that was the news she brought."
 
 The other Side of the Wall. 19 
 
 " How very, very sad ! I cannot help hoping 
 that it is not true." 
 
 " I am afraid it is. Mary did not seem to 
 think there was any doubt about it." 
 
 " Poor little boy ! " said Mrs. Cameron. " It is 
 indeed a dull house for him to come to ; he is 
 much to be pitied. I can hardly imagine a child 
 in the old place. It would have been quite a 
 different thing if his mother could have been with 
 him. I wonder if we shall be able to do anything 
 to brighten the poor child's life." 
 
 " That is just like you, my dear," said Dr. Cameron 
 from his end of the table ; " but you must remember, 
 in this case, that you have a somewhat peculiar per- 
 sonage to deal with. You had better let old Ferrers 
 make the first advances." 
 
 No more was said at the moment, for the de- 
 parture of the elder boys made a move at the 
 table, and little Arthur and his troubles were soon 
 forgotten. 
 
 That first day was full of wonders to the stranger. 
 Novelty lent a charm to everything, and his delight 
 was great when Markham consented to his going 
 down to the river-side with Bailey, the housemaid. 
 The very thought that his father had known and 
 loved the river seemed to give it a great fascination, 
 and Bailey had no little difficulty in persuading him 
 to turn homewards.
 
 2O Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 " Just one five minutes more, Bailey, please," 
 he asked, in a pleading voice. 
 
 " Now, Master Arthur, we really must go," she 
 said when five minutes and more had passed. 
 
 " Do you really think we have been five minutes ? " 
 he said. 
 
 " Yes, quite," answered Bailey ; " and perhaps your 
 grandpapa is feeling dull without you." 
 
 This had the desired effect. With one lingering 
 look at the fascinating steamers and barges, he 
 turned homewards without another word. 
 
 " Bailey," he said presently, " do you really think 
 my grandpapa will have been dull without me ? I 
 should be so sorry, for mother said I was to try and 
 make him glad." 
 
 " No, dear, I hope he will not have been dull ; 
 but 1 think he will be glad to know you are at home 
 again," said Bailey kindly. 
 
 " Then we will walk faster, and then we shall get 
 home quick." 
 
 It was not till the evening had come, and Arthur 
 was tired out with the excitement of the day, that 
 he seemed to remember his mother specially. Mr. 
 Ferrers had sent to the bookseller's for a book full 
 of stories and pictures of animals, thinking it would 
 amuse the child. With this on his knee, he sat on 
 a low stool near his grandfather as he read the 
 evening paper, and nobody saw the tears which would
 
 The other Side of the Wall. 2 1 
 
 drop every now and then as a sense of intense 
 loneliness crept over the child. 
 
 The next day was Saturday, always a red-letter 
 day to the young Camerons, as it meant a whole 
 holiday. At least it meant no going to school, and 
 Miss Moreton did not come to teach the younger 
 ones. The early summer morning found them out 
 in the garden, Bernard mowing the lawn vigor- 
 ously, the others amusing themselves according to 
 their several fancies. They were quite unconscious 
 that a young pair of eyes was watching them wist- 
 fully from a tree on the other side of the wall. 
 Arthur had wandered out into the garden, and hear- 
 ing children's voices, longed to see to whom they 
 belonged. But the wall was so high and Arthur so 
 little. Suddenly, with a boyish instinct, he thought 
 of climbing a tree. Looking round, he saw one 
 that seemed likely to answer his purpose. With 
 nimble movements he commenced his climb, looking 
 round every now and then to see if any one saw him. 
 Soon he had reached a branch that was at any rate 
 high enough to let him see over the brick barrier, 
 and, to his delight, he could see the owners of the 
 voices and watch their movements. He even learnt 
 their names, as he heard them calling one to the 
 other. He was so absorbed watching them that 
 he forgot all about breakfast, till he heard Mark- 
 ham's voice calling him. Her tones seemed to get
 
 22 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 more and more shrill as she failed to find the 
 runaway. 
 
 " I am here, Markham," Arthur kept calling back, 
 but she failed to hear him till she was close to the 
 tree in which he sat. Then he burst into a merry 
 laugh as he saw her utter astonishment when she 
 caught sight of him. 
 
 " Master Arthur ! " she exclaimed, " what can you 
 be doing up there ? And just fancy what a state your 
 white knickers will be in ! And look at your hands ; 
 they are like tinkers' ! " 
 
 Arthur looked rather ruefully at his knickerbockers, 
 then at his hands. 
 
 " They will wash, Markham," he said. 
 
 " Oh yes, they'll wash, I dare say ; but whoever's 
 going to keep you decent if you get such a little 
 sweep before nine o'clock in the morning ? " 
 
 Perhaps Arthur thought that the least said soonest 
 mended ; at any rate he said no more, and walked 
 humbly in to breakfast. On this Markham lavished 
 any amount of care. It grieved her to see the child 
 with such pale cheeks and so little appetite, so she 
 tempted him with any delicacies within reach. 
 
 Poor old Mr. Ferrers was sadly perplexed what 
 to do with the boy. For the present he con- 
 tented himself with buying fresh toys and thinking 
 of anything that would amuse him ; but it was many 
 long years since he had been in close contact with
 
 The other Side of the Wall. 23 
 
 a child, and it could scarcely be said that he took 
 kindly to his new work. A ball was one thing 
 that had been sent for from the neighbouring toy- 
 shop, and Arthur, after playing by himself for 
 some time, coaxed Bailey out into the garden to 
 play with him. Mr. Ferrers watched the little fellow 
 from the library window. It was pleasant to hear 
 his joyous laugh as Bailey sometimes failed to catch 
 the ball, and had to dive in and out among the shrubs 
 to find it. Mr. Ferrers became so interested in the 
 play that presently he too sauntered out and seated 
 himself on a garden-seat. Just then there was 
 a cry of dismay from Arthur. The treasured ball 
 had vanished over the high wall. 
 
 " What is the matter, Arthur ? " asked Mr. Ferrers. 
 
 " Oh grandpapa ! I am so sorry ; my beautiful ball 
 has gone right over the wall. What can I do ? Shall 
 I ever get it back again ? " 
 
 Mr. Ferrers could not help smiling at the troubled 
 little face. " You should have been more careful, 
 Arthur, and not sent it in that direction." 
 
 " Yes, grandpapa ; and so I was, till just this once." 
 
 " You may go round to the front-door if you like, 
 and ask if Mrs. Cameron will allow you to look for 
 your ball," said Mr. Ferrers. 
 
 He expected Arthur to ask if Bailey might go 
 instead, but the little fellow never hesitated, but set 
 off at once on his errand. The big gate was rather
 
 24 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 hard to open, but he pushed with all his strength, 
 and then it came open with a bound. He could 
 see some of the children in the distance, but it never 
 struck him to do anything else but just what his 
 grandfather told him. His mother had always wished 
 him to do as she told him, and now he never 
 thought of doing anything but following his grand- 
 father's directions. It was a little formidable to go 
 up to the big front-door and ring the bell, and it 
 seemed as if it would have been much pleasanter to 
 go and speak to one of the children. 
 
 Mrs. Cameron was in the hall when the servant 
 answered Arthur's summons, and looking round, she 
 saw his straight little figure standing on the step erect 
 and fearless, asking if he might be allowed to look for 
 his ball. Mrs. Cameron guessed in a moment who 
 he was, and came forward at once. 
 
 " Have you lost your ball, dear ? " she asked, 
 smiling down at the deep blue eyes which looked 
 up trustingly to her. 
 
 " Yes ; I am so sorry," Arthur said ; " it was so 
 stupid of me. But grandpapa said I might come 
 and ask if you would let me look for it." 
 
 "Yes, certainly you may. I will come and look 
 too; and there are plenty of other young people in 
 the garden who will gladly join in the search. I 
 think you must be Mr. Ferrers' little grandson ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I am Arthur Ferrers."
 
 The other Side of the Wall. 25 
 
 " We are quite near neighbours, are we not ? 
 Perhaps your grandpapa will let you come and 
 play with my children sometimes. They will be very 
 pleased to have you. Leslie Hubert come here. 
 This is little Arthur Ferrers. He has lost his ball, 
 and I want you to try and find it." 
 
 Leslie was three years older than Arthur, and 
 Hubert about the same age, but they were a great 
 contrast to the delicate-looking Indian boy. They 
 came forward flushed and happy with their game, 
 and very willingly joined in searching for the ball. 
 It was Hubert's sharp eyes that caught sight of it 
 first, and then Arthur, with grateful thanks to his new 
 friends, said good-bye. 
 
 " Do you think your grandpapa would let you stay 
 and have tea with my boys ? " asked Mrs. Cameron. 
 " Suppose 3 r ou run home and ask him." 
 
 " Oh ! may I ? " said Arthur, his whole face lighting 
 up with pleasure. 
 
 " Yes ; run away and ask him. Tell him I shall be 
 very pleased if he can spare you." 
 
 Arthur scarcely stopped to hear the end, but ran 
 home as fast as his legs would carry him.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 CHRISTIE'S CABIN. 
 
 iRTHUR was scarcely beyond earshot when 
 
 Leslie said 
 
 **&*- "What a bother to have that little chap 
 
 coming ! Why, he looks half a girl with those curls ; 
 he will spoil all our play. Why did you ask him, 
 mother ? " 
 
 " I asked him because I think he is sad and lonely, 
 Leslie. Poor little fellow ! he has neither father nor 
 mother, and old Mr. Ferrers' house must be very dull 
 for him." 
 
 " He looks such a little muff," said Leslie sullenly. 
 
 " I am not so sure about that, Leslie. The boy 
 looks pale and thin, and it is certainly time he lost 
 those bonny curls, but if I mistake not he has a 
 manly little heart." 
 
 Leslie darted off at that moment, as he heard Maude 
 calling him, and was not unwilling to make his escape, 
 leaving Hubert alone with his mother.
 
 Christie's Cabin. 27 
 
 " How very hot you are, Hubert ! Come and sit 
 down here for a few minutes and get cool," Mrs. 
 Cameron said. 
 
 " Is Arthur quite an orphan ? " asked Hubert, seat- 
 ing himself. 
 
 "Yes, quite. He must be very sad, poor little 
 fellow ! " 
 
 Hubert sat thinking a little. 
 
 " Do you think we could do something to make 
 him happier, mother ? " he asked presently. 
 
 " Yes, dear, I do. At any rate I think we should 
 all try." 
 
 " Would that be trying to bear one another's 
 burdens ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think it would. If we love Christ, we 
 should try and do that everywhere and anywhere 
 we can." 
 
 " Then it is not only helping poor people ? " 
 
 " No ; people have so many different burdens. 
 Some have poverty, some have pain, and many more 
 have sad hearts." 
 
 " Arthur must have a very sad heart if he has no 
 little mother," said Hubert, nestling a little closer to 
 Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 "Yes, I am sure he must. That is why I want to 
 try and comfort him. It is what our Lord would 
 do if He were here, my Hubert ; and you want to 
 follow Him, don't you ? "
 
 28 Old Christies Cabin. 
 
 " Yes, mother," he answered in a low voice. 
 
 Presently they saw Arthur coming back, his face 
 flushed with running and beaming with pleasure. 
 
 " Grandpapa says he thanks you very much, and 
 he is very pleased for me to come," he said, almost 
 breathless. 
 
 " Oh, well, that is all right," said Mrs. Cameron, 
 rising. " Now we will go and find the others. 
 You will know them all soon. This is Hubert." 
 
 " I knew you were Hubert," said Arthur. 
 
 " Did you ? How ever did you know that ? " asked 
 Hubert, looking astonished. 
 
 " Why, I heard you all talking on the other side of 
 the wall, and I wanted to know what you were like. 
 So I climbed up a tree, and then I could see you, 
 and I heard you calling to one another." 
 
 " How droll ! And do you know the names of the 
 others ? " 
 
 " Well, I am not quite sure. I thought you were 
 nearer my size than the rest of them, and so I 
 wanted to know your name. I think there is a big 
 fellow, isn't there ? " 
 
 Hubert nodded. 
 
 " And you call him Bernard, don't you ? I re- 
 membered that because it was the name of Captain 
 Riley's big dog." 
 
 Hubert laughed heartily, and then they came up 
 to the others, and Mrs. Cameron, having introduced
 
 Christie s Cabin. 29 
 
 Arthur to the rest of the party, left them to have 
 another game. They soon found out that Arthur was 
 not a bad playfellow. He entered heart and soul 
 into the game, and was evidently a capital runner. 
 Dr. Cameron came out and proposed that Leslie, 
 Hubert, and Arthur should run a race together. Now, 
 Leslie prided himself in his running powers, and 
 was not a little disconcerted when Arthur came in 
 first and won the prize of a new threepenny-piece. 
 In his heart he had felt a little ashamed of the way 
 in which he had spoken of Arthur, and now it was 
 hard to be outdone by the small boy he had voted 
 girlish. He said nothing, but noted inwardly that 
 the stranger was not such a muff after all. 
 
 The race was just finished, when the gong sounded 
 for the children's five o'clock tea. It was very 
 unusual for Dr. Cameron to be home so early, so 
 the children pleaded that he would go down to the 
 river with them and have a row. On rare occasions 
 they were able to persuade their father to accompany 
 them, and now he seemed specially willing. Tea 
 was despatched in no time, and then the party set off. 
 
 The nearest way to the river-side was through 
 some narrow streets. It was not the pleasantest route, 
 but much the shortest. It brought them out close 
 to old Christie's cottage, or cabin, as he preferred to 
 call it. He had been an old man-of-war's-man, and 
 since he had been unfit for active service he had
 
 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 lived by the water-side, and during the summer 
 months had helped out his pension by letting out 
 a couple of rowing-boats for hire. 
 
 " Well, Christie," said the Doctor with his cheery 
 voice, " how are you this fine day ? We want one 
 of your boats. These young people would not give 
 me any peace till I brought them down for a row." 
 
 Old Christie's back was turned towards the door 
 as the Doctor spoke. He usually looked up brightly 
 when he heard the voice of any of the family. Now 
 he only turned slightly and slowly raised his head. 
 Dr. Cameron saw in a moment that something was 
 wrong. Going up close to him, he kindly laid his 
 hand on the old man's shoulder. 
 
 " Is something the matter, Christie ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, sir, it's my lad, my own poor laddie ! " he 
 answered, and instead of the clear blue eyes looking 
 up straight into the Doctor's face as usual, tears came 
 dropping slowly down the old man's cheek. 
 
 " Can you tell me the trouble ? I am an old 
 friend," said the Doctor soothingly. 
 
 " I know, sir, I know ; but it's sore trouble. My 
 Will was coming down one of them high ladders 
 yesterday, and he fell." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! I am very sorry. Is he seriously 
 hurt ? " 
 
 " They took him straight away to the hospital, sir. 
 He knew what they were a-doing of, and asked that
 
 Christie's Cabin. 31 
 
 his wife might be sent for, and his poor old father. 
 Will wouldn't forget me even there." 
 
 " And did you go, Christie ? " asked Dr. Cameron* 
 
 " Yes, of course I did," the old man answered, as 
 if surprised at the question. 
 
 " But there is some hope, I trust ? " asked the 
 Doctor. 
 
 For the first time the old man looked up with his 
 fearless eyes. 
 
 " Hope, sir. Ah ! that's where it is. We that put 
 our trust in God have always got the blessed hope 
 that nobody can take away from us. Thank God my 
 Will has got that ; he hasn't to find out about it now. 
 But if you ask me, sir, if there's hope for the poor 
 body here, I can't see any. They were mighty kind 
 up at the hospital, and they did the best they could 
 to cheer me, for they saw as I was a bit cut up, 
 but old Christie needed no telling. I've been with 
 a-many just to the gate of heaven, and had to turn 
 back alone." 
 
 " Is he suffering very much ? " 
 
 " It's terrible suffering, sir; but he never murmured. 
 He did look wistful-like at Mary, though ; it near broke 
 my heart to see him. The tears ain't wrong, sir, are 
 they ? " he asked, as the tears would come rolling 
 down the poor worn cheek again. 
 
 " No, not wrong. Our Blessed Saviour did not 
 stand at Lazarus's grave and permit those precious
 
 32 Old Christies Cabin. 
 
 words to be handed down to us, ' Jesus wept/ with- 
 out meaning them to comfort us as well as his 
 sorrowing sisters." 
 
 " But you wanted the boat, sir. I mustn't let my 
 troubles keep the young gentlemen from their plea- 
 sure," he said, rising. 
 
 " It won't do them any harm to hear of the sorrows 
 of others ; I don't think we can learn too early to 
 sympathise with suffering." 
 
 " Maybe you're right, sir. The Master was always 
 ready to give love and sympathy as He went on His 
 way, and it's a blessed thing for the young things to 
 try and follow in His footprints." 
 
 " Don't trouble to come out to-night," said the 
 Doctor ; " Master Bernard and I can well push down 
 the boat together." 
 
 But old Christie had been brought up in the wrong 
 school to dream of shirking a duty, so he said at 
 once 
 
 " No, sir, I'll come ; it's better to be up and doing. 
 Maybe I'll get murmuring if I sit still and think."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 OLD MR. FERRERS. 
 
 JHE young people had stood round silently 
 listening to their old friend's story. Their 
 joyous, merry laughter was hushed as they 
 turned towards the boat, and their young hearts were 
 full of sympathy for his sorrow. Willing as Christie 
 was to push down the boat as usual, the Doctor soon 
 saw that the old man had but little strength that 
 night to do it. He was preparing to step in at the 
 last, and had taken up an oar, when 'Dr. Cameron 
 interposed. 
 
 " No, not to-night. Master Bernard and I can do 
 very well without you." 
 
 The old man handed the oar to Bernard with a 
 " Thank you kindly, sir," and stood watching the boat 
 as it slowly glided into mid-stream. 
 
 " Poor old Christie ! " said the Doctor presently ; 
 " this is a sore trouble for him, I fear." 
 
 " Has he lost somebody he loves ? " asked Arthur, 
 
 33 c
 
 34 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 who, being a stranger, had not understood all that 
 passed. 
 
 " His son has fallen from a ladder," said Hubert, 
 " and is so hurt that Christie thinks he will die." 
 
 " Has Will any children ? " asked Bernard. 
 
 " Yes ; several. I fancy there is quite a young 
 baby. I dare say mother knows more about them 
 than we do." 
 
 They chatted on some little time longer about old 
 Christie's troubles, and then a diversion came in the 
 shape of a little steam-tug that was swiftly coming 
 down the stream. Arthur got quite excited as he 
 watched the various little boats that had to scramble, 
 as it were, out of the way. Dr. Cameron and Bernard 
 rested on their oars to watch it. Then came a large 
 house-boat, which charmed Arthur exceedingly, and 
 Dr. Cameron saw with pleasure that the too grave 
 expression on the childish face passed away. 
 
 The evening was so lovely that they were all 
 sorry when the Doctor said it was time to turn home- 
 wards. As it was, he feared that he would be late 
 for dinner ; but he and Bernard put on speed, and the 
 boat went swiftly back towards the spot where old 
 Christie sat smoking his pipe as he waited for them. 
 
 " I hope you have enjoyed your row, young gentle- 
 men," he asked, as the boat came in. 
 
 " Oh ! it is beautiful, Christie," said Leslie ; " it is 
 really too bad to come in yet."
 
 Old Mr. Ferrers. 3 5 
 
 " Take care, sir," he said as Arthur stood up and 
 jumped nimbly out. " You're a little stranger, sir, I'm 
 thinking." 
 
 " Yes ; he's just come all the way from India," said 
 Hubert, speaking for him. 
 
 " You don't say so, sir ! You must come and have 
 a chat with old Christie one of these days, 'cause he's 
 been to the Indies." 
 
 "Have you?" said Arthur, his face lighting up 
 with the smile that was his special charm. " Oh, 
 I am so glad ! May I really come and talk to you 
 some day ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I'll be real glad to see you." 
 
 " Good-night, Christie," said the Doctor. " I can- 
 not help hoping you may have some better news 
 when we see you next." 
 
 The old man shook his head. " Not the better 
 news as you're thinking of, sir, I fear." 
 
 The children were full of old Christie's troubles 
 when they reached home, and poured out their eager 
 tale to their mother as she sat on the lawn waiting 
 for their father. 
 
 " He is such a dear old man," said Arthur, when 
 at last there was a pause in the conversation. " And, 
 do you know, he has been to India, and he says I may 
 go and talk to him. Won't it be nice ? " 
 
 Mrs. Cameron smiled down on the eager little face, 
 and felt glad that, for a few hours at least, she and
 
 36 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 her children had been able to cheer the lonely boy. 
 Suddenly he seemed to remember his grandfather. 
 
 " I think I ought to go home, please. My grand- 
 papa will be wanting me." 
 
 " I thought perhaps Mr. Ferrers would send for 
 you when he wished you to go home," said Mrs. 
 Cameron. 
 
 For one moment the boy hesitated. He had been 
 so very, very happy that afternoon, he would dearly 
 like to stay longer ; but the thought that perhaps his 
 grandfather wanted him made him decide to return 
 at once. 
 
 Mrs. Cameron saw the decision in his face. 
 
 " You think you ought to go, Arthur ? " 
 
 "Yes, please. My grandpapa might want me, 
 mightn't he ? " 
 
 " I would go at once, dear, if you think so. You 
 want to try and make him happy, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but then I don't know how. You see, if 
 mother had been here," and the little voice got very 
 sorrowful all at once, " she would have told me what 
 to do." 
 
 " Do you know there is some One else who will 
 teach you what to do, Arthur ? " They were quite 
 alone now; the others had run off to finish their 
 lessons. 
 
 The boy looked up into her face. 
 
 " Yes ; we have one great Friend who is always
 
 Old Mr. Ferrers. 37 
 
 near us, and who knows all our wants. Do you know 
 whom I mean ? " 
 
 " Do you mean the Lord Jesus ? " 
 
 " Yes. He is our best and truest Friend. He likes 
 us to ask Him for what we need ; and when we do 
 not know what to do, we may always ask Him, for 
 He has promised to teach us." 
 
 " But I don't see Him," said Arthur. 
 
 " God has promised to teach us by His Holy Spirit, 
 and when we hear a little voice within us telling us 
 to do something which we know is right, we may be 
 sure that it is God teaching us." 
 
 " Do you think He would teach me how to please 
 my grandpapa ? because, you see, he is such an old 
 gentleman, and I am only a little boy." 
 
 "Yes, I am sure He will teach you if you ask Him, 
 because He has promised, and God always does what 
 He promises. If I made you a promise, Arthur, 
 you would believe me, would you not ? " 
 
 "Yes," said the boy, looking up straight into her 
 face. 
 
 " Then you must trust God's promises just as you 
 would trust me. You know the Lord Jesus Christ 
 dearly loved children when He was on earth, and I 
 am quite sure He loves them still." 
 
 " Then I'll ask Him to teach me how to please 
 my grandpapa." 
 
 " Now I think you must go, Arthur. Good-night."
 
 38 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 " Good-night ; " and very soon the nimble little 
 figure was out of the garden, and Mrs. Cameron heard 
 the heavy gates of Cannon Lodge slam to, which told 
 her that Arthur had reached his grandfather's. 
 
 The next afternoon Mrs. Cameron was sitting in 
 the drawing-room writing letters, when Mr. Ferrers 
 was announced. Though they had been near neigh- 
 bours for many years, yet they had spoken to each 
 other but seldom. Now, as the old gentleman entered 
 the room she was struck to see how bent and aged 
 he was since she had seen him last. He came towards 
 her, however, with all the old courtly manner. 
 
 " I wanted to thank you for your great kindness to 
 my little grandson yesterday ; you seem to have made 
 him very happy," Mr. Ferrers said. 
 
 " We were very pleased to see him," said Mrs. 
 Cameron cordially. " I hope you will often allow 
 him to come in and spend a few hours with my 
 children." 
 
 "Thank you; it is indeed very good of you. It 
 will make a pleasant change for him ; it cannot but be 
 dull for a child with an old man like me. " 
 
 " He was most anxious not to stay too long last 
 evening ; he feared you might want him. " 
 
 " Was he ? " said Mr. Ferrers, a pleased look pass- 
 ing over his face. " I should not have supposed that 
 he would have given me a thought." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; I think he wants to make you happy."
 
 Old Mr. Ferrers. 39 
 
 " Happy ? Nobody will ever do that now," said 
 Mr. Ferrers bitterly. 
 
 " There is only one source of real happiness, Mr. 
 Ferrers ; we find as we grow older that everything 
 else passes away." 
 
 Mr. Ferrers rose uneasily and began examining 
 some ferns that stood in the window. Mrs. Cameron 
 saw in a moment that it was no time to say more, 
 and directed his attention to one that was a rare 
 specimen. After a little while he was tempted to sit 
 down again, and presently the conversation turned 
 once more on Arthur. Mrs. Cameron was longing 
 to hear what plans were formed for his future. 
 
 " Are you going to send him to school ? " she asked. 
 
 " To tell you the truth, Mrs. Cameron, I don't know 
 what to do with the child. What can an old man like 
 me do with a little boy about him always ? " 
 
 " His education will need a great deal of thought." 
 
 "Yes, that's just it. You see, if his mother had lived 
 to come home everything would have been different." 
 
 Then Mr. Ferrers broke off suddenly, as if he dared 
 not trust himself to say more. Mrs. Cameron wished 
 he would have spoken of his son, for she believed 
 it would have comforted him a little to talk about his 
 sorrow. But he abruptly broke off the conversation 
 and took his leave. 
 
 Mrs. Cameron was greatly distressed when he had 
 gone. Her motherly heart yearned over the lonely
 
 4O Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 little boy, and she wished she might have suggested 
 some plan for his future. But the opportunity had 
 come and gone, she thought, and perhaps she might 
 never have another. Dr. Cameron found her shortly 
 afterwards still pondering over all sorts of possible 
 and impossible plans for Arthur's future. She was 
 very glad to talk them over with her husband. Pre- 
 sently a bright thought struck her. 
 
 " Why should not Arthur come and learn with our 
 younger children for the present ? Hubert would find 
 it very pleasant to have a companion. I am sure 
 it would be better than sending poor little Arthur 
 straight off to school." 
 
 " I think that would work well," said the Doctor, 
 " if old Ferrers would agree." 
 
 " I wish I could go and suggest it to-night." 
 
 " Come, come, my dear, there is no need for such 
 haste. It will be better for you to sleep over your 
 plan. You and Mr. Ferrers are not royalties, that 
 you may make your return visit quite so speedily," 
 said the Doctor, laughing. 
 
 " Well, I suppose I must wait till to-morrow." 
 
 "You and I have changed places to-night, my dear, I 
 think. I am generally the creature of impulse, and you 
 the sober one who restrains me at the right moment." 
 
 " Yes, you are right ; of course it would be better to 
 wait till to-morrow, but you don't know how my whole 
 heart goes out to that boy."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 MRS. CAMERON'S VISIT. 
 
 JHE next afternoon, while old Mr. Ferrers 
 was sitting dozing in his easy-chair, he was 
 startled by Bailey's entrance. Being a little 
 deaf and half-asleep as well, he very partially under- 
 stood what she said, and he was not a little surprised 
 to see Mrs. Cameron following her into the room. 
 
 " I am afraid I have disturbed you, Mr. Ferrers," 
 she said kindly, and inwardly thinking that the ser- 
 vant might have taken her into another room while 
 she prepared the old gentleman for a visitor. He 
 instantly recovered himself, however, and with his old 
 courtesy begged her to be seated. Now, sitting face 
 to face with him, Mrs. Cameron found it rather diffi- 
 cult to know how to begin the subject she was so 
 eager about. Mr. Ferrers was a peculiar man and a 
 very proud man ; he might not easily fall in with 
 suggestions from other people. He seemed to think 
 something special must have brought her, and after 
 
 41
 
 42 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 the first exchange of usual civilities he sat waiting 
 for her to speak. 
 
 " I have come to speak to you about your little 
 grandson," said Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 " You are very good, I am sure," said Mr. Ferrers 
 in his lofty way, " to take so much interest in 
 him." 
 
 " From what you said yesterday I thought you 
 had not yet decided anything about his education." 
 
 " No, not as yet. I have sent this morning for a 
 prospectus of a school for boys in the neighbourhood, 
 which I thought might answer as a temporary thing. 
 By the autumn I may see my way better." 
 
 " Our younger children are being educated at 
 present by a lady who is thoroughly competent to 
 give them the groundwork of a good education, and 
 I came to ask if you would like your little grandson 
 to join them in their lessons." 
 
 " This is really very kind of you," said Mr. Ferrers, 
 more warmly than he had yet spoken. " Are you 
 sure that this lady would be willing to undertake 
 another pupil ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I am not afraid of Miss Moreton's powers 
 or willingness," said Mrs. Cameron. " She is particu- 
 larly fond of boys, and would be sure to take an 
 interest in such a bright little fellow as Arthur." 
 
 " He will be delighted with such a plan," said Mr. 
 Ferrers. " He came home the other evening full of
 
 Mrs. Cameron's Visit. 43 
 
 his enjoyment. I am really most grateful to you for 
 making such a proposal." 
 
 This was a great deal for old Mr. Ferrers to say. 
 It had always suited him best to confer favours, not 
 to accept them from others. But the fact was, the 
 more he thought of his little grandson, the more per- 
 plexed he was to know what to do with him, and the 
 more he felt his own unfitness for the task. 
 
 " It is always well for children to have the society 
 of other children," said Mrs. Cameron ; " childhood 
 can only come once, and I think we should do all 
 we can to make it happy. A happy childhood is a 
 precious thing to look back upon even in old age." 
 
 Mr. Ferrers gave one of his peculiar smiles, that 
 were by no means pleasant to look at. 
 
 " I was going to say I had no childhood," he said. 
 " The greatest kindness I had was from an old nurse 
 who was devoted to me. The pleasures I had and 
 they were not many were mostly stolen ones. With 
 my own boy it was different ; he was blessed with a 
 good mother. I was in India for some years, but 
 her health imperatively demanded her residence in 
 England, and this ensured the boy's happiness. 1 
 fancy little Arthur is like his father in many ways, 
 though he has his mother's eyes. This is a likeness 
 of her," he said, rising and taking a photograph off 
 the table. Another photograph stood beside it, which 
 Mrs. Cameron readily guessed was a portrait of his
 
 44 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 son ; but he did not offer to show that, and Mrs. 
 Cameron thought it wiser not to speak of it. 
 
 Just then the door opened and a little head 
 appeared. 
 
 " Oh grandpapa ! just see what that naughty, 
 wicked cat has done ! " Then the speaker stopped 
 suddenly, seeing that there was a visitor. Mrs. 
 Cameron had her back towards him, so for the 
 moment he did not recognise her. 
 
 " What is the trouble, Arthur ? " asked Mr. Ferrers. 
 " Come in quietly ; did you not see that I had a 
 visitor ? " 
 
 " No, grandpapa, I did not know." Then he 
 quickly recognised his friend, and bounded up to 
 Mrs. Cameron, carefully holding something with both 
 his small hands. 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Cameron, look here," he said, feeling 
 sure of her ready sympathy. 
 
 He opened his fingers a little, and disclosed a 
 young thrush, that was panting with fright. 
 
 "Whatever have you got there?" asked Mr. 
 Ferrers. 
 
 " A poor little bird, grandpapa, and that horrid cat 
 had got it in her mouth, and the little thing was 
 squeaking so that I made puss give it up. Markham 
 says it doesn't matter," he added indignantly. 
 
 " Poor little bird ! it is frightened," said Mrs. 
 Cameron. " I wonder if it is much hurt. Perhaps
 
 Mrs. Cameron's Visit. 45 
 
 if we were to nurse it and take care of it, it would 
 recover." 
 
 " Do you think it would ? Oh ! do let us try," said 
 Arthur eagerly. 
 
 "If your grandpapa will allow you to come home 
 with me, we will see what we can do for it." 
 
 " May I, grandpapa ? " 
 
 " Yes. But I want to tell you something first." 
 Arthur looked rather impatient. He felt the 
 prisoner throbbing in his hand, and could hardly 
 bear to wait to hear what his grandfather had to say, 
 and Mr. Ferrers spoke so leisurely. 
 
 " Mrs. Cameron has come this afternoon to make 
 a most kind proposal respecting you. She has 
 suggested your joining her younger children in their 
 lessons every day. You will like that much better 
 than going to school, won't you ? " 
 
 Arthur had a joyous way of clapping his hands 
 when very much delighted, and now the poor little 
 bird was nearly dropped in his eagerness. He was 
 obliged to give vent to his joy in some other way, and 
 began dancing about, much to the amusement of Mrs. 
 Cameron and his grandfather. 
 
 " Oh ! it is very, very kind," he said stopping 
 at last and kissing Mrs. Cameron and Mr. Ferrers. 
 " And shall I see Hubert every day ? " 
 
 " Yes, every day. I think you will be good friends." 
 
 " I am sure we shall. And now, Mrs. Cameron,
 
 46 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 will you come and see after this poor birdie ? " he 
 said, remembering the poor little sufferer. 
 
 Mrs. Cameron took her leave, and Arthur followed 
 her, still carefully holding the wounded bird in his 
 hands. 
 
 Gladys and Hubert were just released from the 
 schoolroom, and were soon as much interested in the 
 invalid thrush as Arthur. 
 
 " I think it is really more frightened than hurt, 
 after all," said Mrs. Cameron as they watched it 
 shaking out its feathers. Hubert had fetched a cage, 
 in which they had put some water and sopped bread. 
 It was a long time, however, before it attempted to 
 touch the food. 
 
 " I wish it was mine," said Hubert. " Where will 
 you keep it, Arthur ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I wonder if Markham will let me 
 have it in my room. I don't believe she will, for she 
 did not mind one bit when she saw the cat had got it. 
 She said it did not matter ; but it did matter, didn't it, 
 Mrs. Cameron ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear ; it always matters if anything God has 
 created is suffering." 
 
 " She said it was the nature of cats to eat birds." 
 
 "Well, so it is. You could not blame the cat for 
 it ; but still it was far kinder for you to rescue the 
 poor little bird, as you were able. Your cat would not 
 be] hungry,- and could well do without it. Now this
 
 Mrs. Cameron's Visit. 47 
 
 little thrush will probably gladden us with his beau- 
 tiful note next spring. I think, Arthur, the kindest 
 thing would be to take it back to the lawn where you 
 found it and set it free. I think it would be quite 
 able to fly now it has got over its fright." 
 
 " Do you really think it would be kinder ? " asked 
 Arthur, looking a little disappointed. 
 
 " Yes ; this bird will be much happier flying freely 
 about from tree to tree than in a cage. Don't you 
 think so ? " 
 
 " Then let us go and set it free," he said, evidently 
 with an effort. " You will come with us, won't you ? " 
 he said, taking Mrs. Cameron's hand. 
 
 "Yes, I will come too." 
 
 So the little party adjourned to Mr. Ferrers' garden, 
 and stood some distance off while Mrs. Cameron put 
 the cage on the lawn and gently opened the door. 
 In less than a minute the prisoner had hopped out, 
 and after looking about him for a little while as if 
 to gain confidence, he spread his wings and flew off 
 to the nearest tree. 
 
 " He will be happier, won't he ? " asked Arthur. 
 
 " Yes, my boy, much happier ; and you will be 
 happier too for doing a kindness for even a little 
 bird."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 WILL'S HOME. 
 
 great distance from the British Museum are 
 streets inhabited by many of the artisan and 
 working class. One large pile of buildings 
 is a huge lodging-house, where under one common 
 roof dwell many families. On the second floor of this 
 building Will Somers had made his home. Rents 
 are high in London, and though he would have pre- 
 ferred to have his own little cottage farther out of 
 London, still, for many reasons, he decided that this 
 was a good and central neighbourhood in which 
 to live. He never lost his love for the country, 
 and every Bank Holiday saw him, with his wife 
 and children, making his way towards the green 
 fields. 
 
 He had been employed for some years by one 
 large firm of builders, and had gained the respect 
 not only of his masters, but of the men among whom 
 he worked. 
 
 48
 
 Will's Home. 49 
 
 " It's no use your trying to tempt Will to a glass," 
 some of the men would say. " You might as well try 
 to turn the sea." 
 
 The men, too, would be more careful of their speech 
 if he were within earshot. Even the most reckless 
 were scarcely heedless of his rebuke if an oath were 
 uttered in his hearing. He little thought that bright 
 June morning, when he had gone out to his work as 
 usual, that he would never return to that home again. 
 His wife remembered afterwards that he had come 
 back to give her a second kiss that day. He had 
 often said that he should be sorry to leave his wife in 
 anger, as some of the men did, for who could tell that 
 they should ever meet again ? 
 
 It was well for Will that he had not to seek a 
 Saviour when the blow came, for pain and suffering 
 made it hard to think. He whispered to his wife, as 
 she sat beside him, after they had fetched her to the 
 hospital 
 
 " I am glad we both settled it long ago, Mary. It 
 is hard to part, but we know it will only be for a little 
 while." 
 
 Old Christie had been right. There was no hope 
 from the first, as far as the poor body was concerned, 
 but there was still the blessed hope that nothing could 
 take away. When all was over they brought him 
 back to his home, and if anything of human sympathy 
 could comfort Mary in her deep sorrow, it must have
 
 50 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 been the kindness and respect that was shown on the 
 day of the funeral. Most of the men that were work- 
 ing with him at the time of his death expressed a 
 desire to follow his body to the grave, and when the 
 day came this number was increased by many who had 
 known Will in former years. Their sympathy, too, took 
 a substantial form, in the shape of a subscription among 
 the men, and the poor widow was deeply touched by 
 the way in which it was given. It was not, however, 
 till the sad week was quite gone, and the usual round 
 of every-day life began again, that Mary fully realised 
 her great sorrow. The money so kindly collected by 
 her husband's mates, and the sum she received from 
 the club in which he had entered before he married 
 her, was sufficient to supply her needs for the imme- 
 diate present. But the no distant future had to be 
 faced, when her four children would only have their 
 mother to look to for their daily bread. How was it 
 to be got ? that was the question. 
 
 One morning she set off early to talk things over 
 with old Christie. She had always been a favourite 
 with Will's father, and knew that he would advise 
 her if he could. The old man was sitting smoking 
 his pipe at the doorway of his cabin when she 
 appeared, attired in her simple widow's dress, and 
 carrying her young baby in her arms. 
 
 " Come in, my dear, come in ! " Christie said 
 kindly, placing a chair for her out of the hot sun.
 
 Will's Home. 51 
 
 "You're tired, I dare say, and the baby's getting 
 heavy. Isn't he a fine fellow, though ? " 
 
 Christie tried his best to speak cheerily ; he was 
 going to keep up for her sake. But it was no use ; 
 their common sorrow would well up at the sight 
 of one another, and for a few minutes they cried 
 together. 
 
 Mary was the first to try and speak. The baby 
 gave a little cry, and this helped her to grow 
 calm. 
 
 " Yes, he does grow a fine fellow, doesn't he ? 
 Bless him, he is a comfort," she said, bending down 
 and kissing the soft cheek. 
 
 " I thought as whether you might come and see 
 me to-day, Mary ; it's very good of you to think 
 of me." 
 
 " Why, father " (Mary had called him father from 
 her wedding-day), " who should come and see you if 
 your daughter did not ? Besides, mine is a selfish 
 visit to-day ; I longed to see my Will's father. I 
 thought it would comfort me to hear your voice, it 
 was always so much like his ; and I want to talk 
 things over. You see, I must be thinking of the 
 future ; it won't do for me to sit down and think 
 work will come to me." 
 
 This was almost too much for Christie. His son 
 had been one of those honest working-men who was 
 never happier than when he was providing for the
 
 5 2 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 home. Now all that was past, and, as Mary said, 
 she must be bread-winner and mother too. 
 
 " You see, the rents are so high round about where 
 we live that it would swallow up so much, and we 
 have lived so quietly to ourselves that I don't know 
 any of the gentry who perhaps would give me work." 
 
 " There's a lot to think of, isn't there ? " 
 
 " Yes, there is indeed ; and moving would be 
 expensive. I should be loth to part with the things 
 that Will laid store by." 
 
 "You mustn't do anything in a hurry. Don't you 
 mind how it speaks over and over again in the Bible 
 of waiting upon God ? Ain't there some words some- 
 thing like these, 'They that wait on the Lord shall 
 not make haste ' ? " 
 
 " I think it is ' He that believeth shall not make 
 haste/ " said Mary. " Will and I were reading it 
 only the other Sunday ; it is in the twenty-eighth 
 chapter of Isaiah." 
 
 " Ah ! that's just it, ' He that believeth.' The way's 
 very dark, very dark, but we have God's promises to 
 help us, and we've just got to believe Him." 
 
 The baby had gone to sleep, so Mary laid him 
 gently down in a big easy-chair, and then busied 
 herself in preparing dinner. 
 
 " It's not much use getting food for me, my dear," 
 he said ; " I have not been able to eat anything the 
 last week ; everything seems to choke me."
 
 Will's Home. 53 
 
 " I hope you will try and eat something to-day," 
 she said cheerily. " See, I bought a little fish coming 
 along. I thought maybe you'd fancy it if I cooked it 
 for you." 
 
 " Ah ! you remembered one of my fancies," said 
 old Christie, smiling ; and then he sat and watched 
 her busy movements as she set about her work. 
 
 When at last the meal was ready, it was so 
 tempting that Christie found it did not choke him, 
 and Mary managed to eat a little to keep him 
 company.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 BIRDIE. 
 
 FEW days after Mary's visit to old Christie, 
 she was sitting sewing, with her baby on 
 her knee, listening sadly to the many sounds 
 that came up from the street below. An organ was 
 droning out " The Lost Chord " at one end, while a 
 noisy brass band was filling the air with discordant 
 sounds no great distance away. The heat was great, 
 and every one had their window open, so that the 
 laughter and crying of children were all intermixed 
 in the general din. She was roused by a knock at the 
 door, and wondering who it might be, went to open it. 
 It was Jim Norton, an old mate of Will's, who had 
 come with his wife to ask how she was getting on. 
 
 " You are hot here," said Mrs. Norton, fanning 
 herself; "there does not seem to be a breath of air. 
 It's much cooler out our way." 
 
 " It is very hot," assented Mary. " Come nearer the 
 window. You see, you have been walking." 
 
 54
 
 Birdie. 55 
 
 " Yes. It's a good climb up these stairs, too ; I 
 shouldn't want to go up and down very often." 
 
 Mary had never seen Mrs. Norton before, though 
 she had once or twice seen her husband. She knew 
 that he was a kind-hearted man, that Will had said 
 was always ready to do anybody a good turn. Beyond 
 that the two men had little in common, for Jim neither 
 read his Bible nor honoured the Sabbath. Jim had 
 been sadly cut up when he heard of Will's sudden 
 death. He could not get his widow out of his thoughts, 
 and so he had persuaded his wife to come with him 
 to inquire how she was getting on. Unfortunately, 
 his wife talked the most, and did not give Jim much 
 opportunity of putting in a word. 
 
 "We thought we should like to know how you 
 were getting on, Mrs. Somers ; we've been downright 
 sorry for you and no mistake. As to my man there, 
 he does nought but talk of you." 
 
 " You are very kind," murmured Mary. 
 
 " What are you thinking of doing ? " went on Mrs. 
 Norton. " I suppose you must get some work of 
 some sort. What can you do ? " 
 
 Mrs. Norton was a business-like woman, and she 
 meant business now. Hers was not all talk. If she 
 could help this poor widow she would gladly do it. 
 
 " I can do most things with my needle, and I can 
 work a sewing-machine." 
 
 " Ah ! that's good. A woman's never quite shiftless
 
 56 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 when she can use a needle ; that's what I'm always 
 telling my girls. But, dear me, the girls now want 
 to be young ladies and go about dressed up. As I 
 tell 'em, at any rate if they want to wear fine clothes 
 they should learn how to make 'em." 
 
 " I hope my girls will never want to dress up like 
 that," said Mrs. Somers, looking down at her sleeping 
 baby. 
 
 " Have you heard of any work ? " asked Jim, 
 bringing the conversation back to the subject that 
 interested him. 
 
 " No, indeed, I have not," said Mary. " Perhaps 
 I've been faint-hearted, but I did not feel as if I could 
 begin to look for any just at first." 
 
 " I don't wonder," he said kindly. 
 
 "The rents are very dear here, but it would be 
 nearer any work I could get than if I went farther 
 out of London. I am going to move a storey higher 
 up on Saturday ; the higher you go the cheaper the 
 rooms, you see." 
 
 " If you think you would like to work at a mantle- 
 factory," said Jim, " I have a friend who, I believe, 
 would introduce me to a manager." 
 
 " I should be glad to hear of any work where I 
 should be likely to get a living for my children," said 
 poor Mary. 
 
 " It's dreadful poor pay at them factories, Jim," 
 said his wife.
 
 Birdie. 5 7 
 
 " I am afraid it is ; but then you want work, and 
 you want it pretty sharp, don't you ? You see, I 
 shouldn't advise you to wait till you're near come to 
 your last few shillings before you try to get work. 
 You'll be glad to have something to fall back upon a 
 little later maybe. The hardest pinch is not always 
 just at first," said practical Jim. 
 
 " I should be very grateful if you'd speak for me," 
 said Mary. 
 
 " That I will, right gladly," answered Jim heartily. 
 " I'll see the manager to-morrow if possible, and may- 
 be he'll put you in on Monday. You'd be ready, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," said Mary, her heart inwardly sinking 
 at the thought of the work before her, and yet not 
 daring to turn it away. " I'm sure it's very kind of 
 you, Mr. Norton, to take so much trouble for me." 
 
 " He that's gone would have done anything for 
 me and mine," he answered. " I think a lot of his 
 words now. I only wish I was a bit like him. 
 Somers was a good man, if ever there was one. His 
 religion was not talking but doing. There wasn't a 
 fellow as worked nigh him but soon saw what stuff 
 he was made of." 
 
 " I think it is getting late, Jim," said Mrs. Norton, 
 who did not appreciate the turn the conversation had 
 taken ; " we must be going." 
 
 So, with promises on Jim's side to see about the
 
 58 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 work as promptly as he could, and grateful thanks on 
 Mary's, the husband and wife took their leave. 
 
 " She don't seem so broken-down as 1 should 
 have expected," said Mrs. Norton as they regained 
 the street. 
 
 " Ah, wife ! I tell you them two possess something 
 that you and I know nought about. You and I can 
 get along well enough when it's all fair weather, but 
 let something go wrong, we've nothing to back us up." 
 
 " Some don't seem to have as much feeling as 
 others," said Mrs. Norton sharply. 
 
 " It's not that, wife. They can afford to meet life's 
 troubles bravely, because they believe they've some- 
 thing sure beyond. You and I live as if we believed 
 this life would last for ever." 
 
 Just then the omnibus they wanted came up, and 
 there was no more talk between the husband and 
 wife. But Jim was full of thought ; he could not 
 forget the young widow with her baby; it grieved his 
 manly heart to think of the hard struggle that lay 
 before her. 
 
 True to his word, he sought the manager the next 
 day, and pleaded so hard, that at last he consented 
 to find a place for the new hand, on the following 
 Monday. He wrote accordingly to Mary, telling her 
 the work was there for her if she chose to take it. 
 The hours would be half-past eight to six ; the pay, 
 nine shillings a week and her food.
 
 Birdie. 59 
 
 Grateful as Mary felt for Jim Norton's kindness, 
 still she shed a good many tears over the letter. 
 She had been so full of her loss that she had scarcely 
 faced all the hard facts that work meant. As she 
 looked at her young baby, and felt she must trust 
 him, as well as the three other children, to a stranger's 
 care, she felt as if her heart would break. She was 
 brave, though, in the midst of it all. As Jim said, 
 she possessed something that helped her to meet 
 life's battles. She knew that a loving God was 
 behind them all. 
 
 It was the middle of the week, so she had still 
 some days to consider who would be willing and 
 suitable to look after her children during her absence. 
 She thought over all her neighbours, but dismissed 
 one after another from her mind. But suddenly she 
 remembered a woman who lived on the upper floor, 
 whose husband was employed at a distance, and was 
 out all day. 
 
 She had always seemed a quiet, kind woman, not 
 a gossip like most around her. Mary had often 
 noticed how very poor she was, in spite of her husband 
 being in constant work. This made her think that 
 perhaps she would be willing to earn a little sum 
 weekly by taking care of her children. The more she 
 thought it over the more she felt drawn towards Mrs. 
 Morgan. She had never N been inside her room, but 
 she knew that she had often seen her going to church
 
 60 Old Christie 1 s Cabin. 
 
 on Sunday evening with a little girl by her side. 
 The next morning she determined to pay her a visit, 
 and after taking a look round, broach the subject of 
 her children, if it seemed wise to do so. As she 
 stood outside the door she heard a childish voice 
 sweetly singing, and stopped a moment to listen. 
 On knocking, the same child - voice called out, 
 " Come in." 
 
 At first Mary wondered where the voice came from 
 as she entered, but she soon saw a little figure sitting 
 in one corner, holding in her arms, very lovingly, 
 what had once been a doll, but now only looked like 
 the ghost of one. 
 
 " Who is it ? " asked the child, not attempting to 
 move. 
 
 " I am Mrs. Somers," said Mary. " Is Mrs. Morgan 
 at home ? " 
 
 " She will be here almost directly," said the child. 
 " She has only gone out a minute to buy something 
 for dinner. Did you want to see her ? " 
 
 " Yes, I did. If you don't mind, I should like to 
 wait a little while, if you do not think she will be 
 long." 
 
 " Oh no ; and I like to have any one come, if their 
 voice sounds kind, and yours does," said the child. 
 
 " I am glad of that," said Mrs. Somers. " Are 
 you the little girl I see on Sunday evening, some- 
 times, going to church with your mother ? "
 
 Birdie. 6 1 
 
 " Yes ; I like that best of all the week," said the 
 child, her face lighting up with pleasure. " I could 
 listen to the organ all day. Mother says I'm always 
 singing. I was singing when you came in." 
 
 " Yes ; I heard you as I stood at the door. What 
 is your name ? You have not told me yet." 
 
 " Mother calls me Birdie, because I'm always sing- 
 ing, but my real name is Fanny. I like Birdie best ; 
 don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think I do." 
 
 Just then the door opened and Mrs. Morgan en- 
 tered. She looked astonished to see a stranger, 
 but said quickly 
 
 " It's Mrs. Somers, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mary ; " I wanted to see you. Your 
 little girl told me you would not be long, so I waited." 
 Then she hesitated, hardly knowing what to say next. 
 
 " We are going to be very near neighbours, Mrs. 
 Morgan, after Saturday," she said, recovering herself. 
 " I can't afford to keep on the rooms I've had lower 
 down, and so I have taken the ones next to yours, as 
 they'll be cheaper." 
 
 " Yes ; it was a sad piece of work losing your 
 husband ; and he was a good one, too," said Mrs. 
 Morgan. 
 
 "You see, I shall have to be bread-winner now," 
 said Mary, with a great effort. " I have heard of 
 some work, but it will take me out all day, and I
 
 62 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 shall be obliged to leave my children. I have been 
 thinking over who I could leave them with, and I 
 just thought perhaps you might be willing to mind 
 them while I am away." 
 
 " Whatever made you think of me ? " asked Mrs. 
 Morgan, looking greatly astonished. 
 
 " I think God told me," said Mary simply. 
 
 Birdie had jumped up now and taken both her 
 mother's hands in hers. 
 
 " Oh mother, do say ' yes ' ! " she cried eagerly. 
 " Fancy how happy I shall be with some children to 
 play with ! " 
 
 Mary had looked round the room, and had taken 
 the poverty in at a glance. It was not difficult to 
 find the reason. Morgan was helping the publicans 
 to wealth, and making himself poorer every day. 
 Mary noted, however, that everything was scrupu- 
 lously clean in spite of the poverty. 
 
 "You think the children would make you very 
 happy, Birdie ? " her mother asked, her worn face 
 brightening up a little at her child's gladness. 
 
 "Yes, mother, ever so happy. Is there a little 
 girl like me ? " she asked, turning her face towards 
 Mary. 
 
 " My little girl is younger than you are," she said, 
 " but I think you would play happily together. My 
 boy Harry is eight, but Polly is only six. How old 
 are you, Birdie ? "
 
 Birdie. 63 
 
 " I am ten, but mother says I am such a little dot." 
 
 " Yes, poor darling ! and not much wonder. You 
 see, she gets very little fresh air, as she can't go out 
 without me." 
 
 Mary looked up inquiringly, as if she wondered 
 why. 
 
 " You know my Birdie is blind, don't you ? " she 
 said. 
 
 " No, indeed I did not. No stranger would 
 dream that those bright eyes are sightless." 
 
 " It's even so," said Mrs. Morgan sadly ; " but with 
 it all, my Birdie is the brightest, merriest little one 
 that mother ever had." 
 
 " Dear little Birdie ! " said Mary tenderly. " I 
 should be very glad if my children could do any- 
 thing to make her happier." 
 
 Mary went downstairs to her own room with her 
 heart much lightened. She felt very sure that God 
 had guided her to a kind, motherly woman, who 
 would care for her children, and at the same time the 
 weekly money would lighten this poor woman's heavy 
 burden, and she hoped the children would gladden 
 little Birdie's heart.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 BIRDIE GOES TOIREGENT'S PARK. 
 
 the following Saturday Mary moved to her 
 new quarters. It was well for her that she 
 was so busy that she could not sit still and 
 think, for it cost her many a pang'to leave the rooms 
 where she had been so happy. The children were 
 delighted with the bustle, and thought the general 
 confusion capital fun. Not in the least realising 
 what it would be to have mother out day after day, 
 they eagerly longed for Monday morning, when they 
 were to see Birdie. On the Sunday evening she 
 gathered them round her and tried to explain things 
 to them a little. Harry listened thoughtfully. At 
 last he said 
 
 " Mother, I wish I was big, and then I'd work for 
 you, that I would." 
 
 " I am sure you would, my boy ; but now I want 
 to tell you how you can serve me best. You know 
 how good father was, don't you ? " 
 
 64
 
 Birdie goes to Regent's Park. 65 
 
 " Yes," said the boy in a grave voice. 
 
 " I want you to grow up like him, Harry, and 
 never bring shame on your father's name. He 
 asked God to help him every day, that made him 
 so good and brave, and I want you to do the 
 same. The men often used to laugh at him, and try 
 to tempt him to do wrong things, but he was able to 
 say ' No,' because he knew that God would help him 
 if he asked Him. Boys will tempt you to do many 
 wrong things, Harry, but you will never be brave 
 and strong as father was without you ask for the 
 same strength as he did. It's a grand thing for a boy 
 to be able to say ' No ' at the right time. Mrs. 
 Morgan will have your dinner ready for you every 
 day when you come in from school, and I want you 
 to be kind and thoughtful, and take care of your 
 little sisters. You see you can help me in many 
 ways now, my boy, without waiting till you are a 
 man." 
 
 Early the next morning the family was astir, but 
 Mary found that, with all her efforts, she had none too 
 much time to get everything ready before she must 
 set off for her work. She had a long walk before she 
 could reach the factory. There were omnibuses, it 
 was true, that would have taken her, but how could 
 she afford to spend even twopence on coach-hire? 
 Happily the morning was fine and the fresh air 
 invigorating, so that she reached her destination by
 
 66 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 the appointed hour. As she saw the scores of 
 women crowding into the factory her heart almost 
 failed her. The loud laughter, the rough, rude jokes, 
 fell jarringly upon her ear, but the thought of her 
 children and their daily bread nerved her on, and she 
 pushed her way in like the rest. A sharp, business- 
 like manager scanned her face, and saw in a moment 
 that she was a new-comer. He asked her a few 
 short, curt questions, then portioned out her work, 
 reminding her that there could be no idling in the 
 establishment. 
 
 Mary took her place with the rest, glancing round 
 as she did so at the strange-looking women around 
 her some so young and bold-looking, many more 
 with sad and weary faces. 
 
 Mary thought it was the longest day that she had 
 ever spent ; but six o'clock came at last, and she was 
 free to set off homewards. She was very anxious to 
 know how her children had fared during her absence. 
 
 They had got on as well as could be expected 
 on the first day, and had plenty to tell their mother 
 about Birdie. 
 
 " Mother," said Harry, "I do know the way to 
 Regent's Park, don't I ? 'cause Mrs. Morgan says she 
 thinks she would trust Birdie to me and Polly. Poor 
 Birdie has never been." 
 
 "Yes, I think you know your way there quite 
 well ; and if Mrs. Morgan is willing, I dare say Birdie
 
 Birdie goes to Regent's Park. 67 
 
 would enjoy it. Poor little child ! she can get very 
 little change." 
 
 " Yes, mother," said Polly ; " it is so sad to think 
 she cannot see anything, not even the beautiful sky, 
 and yet she is so happy." 
 
 A few days after this, Harry, true to his word, set 
 out for Regent's Park with his little sister and Birdie. 
 It was touching to see the care he took of the blind 
 child, warning her of the curbstones, and guiding her 
 away from the lamp-posts. Birdie was always a 
 little nervous in the streets. The din sounded great 
 in her quick ears, and she started when a vehicle 
 passed more swiftly than usual. But with Harry on 
 one side and Polly on the other, she trudged along, 
 and no one passing her would have said that she was 
 blind. 
 
 At last the little trio reached the Park, and Harry, 
 in his eagerness that Birdie should enjoy it, almost 
 forgot that she was blind. 
 
 " Now, isn't it beautiful, Birdie ? " he cried. 
 
 " What's it like, Harry ? " she asked. " Tell me 
 all about it." 
 
 "Oh ! I wish you could see, Birdie. I forgot you 
 couldn't ; but I'll try and tell you all about it. Here, 
 let's go down by the water, and then we'll sit down 
 under the trees." 
 
 " Now, Birdie, isn't this nice ? " he asked, as the 
 three seated themselves.
 
 68 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 11 Yes, this is fine," she said contentedly, for though 
 she could not see the water and the luxuriant trees, 
 she was conscious of the sweet air and the song of 
 the birds and the countless pleasant summer sounds. 
 
 "There are ducks on the water, Birdie, all sorts 
 of different colours. I wish we had some buns to 
 give them. When father brought us here one day 
 he bought some buns, and it was such fun throwing 
 pieces for them to dive for." 
 
 Alas, poor Harry ! he had no father to buy buns for 
 him now. He sat and watched some other children 
 who were throwing them food, and so vividly described 
 it all that Birdie seemed to understand it, and clapped 
 her hands with joyousness. 
 
 " You are a kind, good boy," she said at last, " to 
 bring poor Birdie here. I am so happy oh ! so happy. 
 You will bring me here again, won't you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I hope so," said Harry, pleased at his first 
 attempt at taking Birdie out. " I wonder what time 
 it is, and whether we ought to be going home," he 
 said presently. He was feeling very important that 
 day as the protector of the two little girls, and now 
 decided that it was time to turn homewards. They 
 had stayed much longer than they thought, and found 
 that their 'mother had already returned, and was 
 anxiously looking for them. 
 
 So several weeks passed on. The longest day was 
 over, and the London streets seemed hot and dusty.
 
 Birdie goes to Regent's Park. 69 
 
 Mary had trudged backwards and forwards to her 
 work uncomplainingly, and except that the baby did 
 not thrive as when he had his mother's constant care, 
 all had gone well with the children. But an un- 
 expected disappointment awaited her. Work was 
 getting slack, and she heard it whispered among 
 the hands that many would be discharged until the 
 autumn brought more work again. Mary listened, 
 and wondered what she would do if she were one 
 that the manager dismissed. Then sweet promises 
 of her never-failing God came back to her, promises 
 especially for the widow and the fatherless, and once 
 again she staid herself upon Him, and went on with 
 a brave heart. 
 
 But the women had been quite right in their con- 
 jectures, and one Monday morning Mary was told 
 that her services would not be required after that 
 week. She went home with a sad heart that day. 
 It had been unusually hot, and she was very tired. 
 How she longed for the voice that was still, and the 
 step that could never be heard again ! Yet she shrank 
 from letting old Christie know her trouble. He had 
 such a tender heart, that she hoped to have some 
 fresh work before he could hear anything about it.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 MAKING TEA. 
 
 JRS. CAMERON had been to see her children's 
 old friend more than once since she had 
 heard of his great sorrow. It grieved her 
 to see his usually bright face looking so sorrowful, 
 and his once erect figure getting more bent with age. 
 From time to time she sent him something to tempt 
 his appetite, and Maude and Hubert were ever ready 
 to be her messengers. Very often Arthur went with 
 them, for the boy delighted in listening to the old man's 
 stories, and anything about India had a double charm. 
 One day the three children had gone to the cabin, 
 and found the old man more sad than usual. He 
 had none of his bright stories to tell, and they stood 
 looking at him wistfully, longing to do something for 
 him, and yet not knowing what. They had opened 
 their basket, and laid on the table a tempting-look- 
 ing dish of fish. But the old man shook his head 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 70
 
 Making Tea. 71 
 
 " It's very kind, my dears, but old Christie can't 
 eat it to-day." 
 
 " But, Christie, what can you eat ? " asked Maude 
 anxiously. " You will starve if you go on like this. 
 What can we do for you ? " 
 
 " I don't know, Missie. Perhaps I'll be better 
 to-morrow. Maybe I'll take a cup o' tea presently. 
 Mrs. Brown said as she'd look in as she came from 
 work, and I dare say she'll make me some." 
 
 " But that will be a long time to wait," said Maude. 
 " Let us make you some ; I am sure we could." 
 
 " No, Missie ; it's real kind of you to say so, but 
 indeed I couldn't let you do that." 
 
 " Why not, Christie ? I am sure we could. Just 
 let us try ; please, do." 
 
 " Why, my little lady ! the fire's out, and there's 
 no water till it's fetched from the pump." 
 
 " Is that all ? " said Hubert, joining in. " Why, I 
 will light the fire, Christie ; just see if I don't ; and 
 Arthur can fetch the water. Maude can make the tea, 
 because she is a girl." 
 
 The old man could not help smiling at his eager- 
 ness, but still he objected. 
 
 " It's very good of you, dear children," said old 
 Christie, " but fancy what the good lady would say 
 when she heard you had been lighting an old man's 
 fire. Nay, young sir, it's not fitting for gentlefolks 
 like you."
 
 72 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 " Why, Christie, do you mean mother ? " said 
 Maude, laughing. 
 
 " Yes, Missie. Whom should I mean but the good 
 lady ? " 
 
 " Why, Christie, she'd just be as pleased as could 
 be for us to help you a little if we could. Mother 
 always says, if we want to be like our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, we must try and be kind to one another." 
 
 "Well, my dears," said Christie, holding out no 
 longer, " the dear lady is quite right. The Lord 
 Jesus was always doing kind actions while He was 
 on earth, and if we love Him, we shall try to be a 
 little like Him." 
 
 " Then you will let us make the tea, Christie, 
 won't you ? " said Hubert. 
 
 " Yes, my dear ; and may God bless you all for 
 caring for an old man like me." 
 
 "You must tell us where to find the wood and 
 some coal," said Hubert. " Come along, Arthur ; let 
 us set to work." 
 
 " You'll find it all in yonder cupboard, sir," said 
 Christie. 
 
 " Oh ! I remember, of course," said Hubert. " Now, 
 Arthur, you take the wood, while I bring some coal." 
 
 As Christie watched the little workers his face 
 looked less sad, and he was quite interested in their 
 efforts. Hubert was almost putting the coal in first, 
 when Maude stopped him.
 
 Making Tea. 73 
 
 " Why, Hubert, that won't do ; you must rake out 
 the cinders first, or the fire will never burn." 
 
 " All right ; then here goes," and Hubert began 
 vigorously clearing out the bottom of the grate with 
 the poker. 
 
 " Now you must put some paper first. I think I 
 have some in my pocket. Haven't you a piece, too, 
 Hubert ? " 
 
 " Yes, I believe I have, somewhere," he said, 
 diving first into one pocket and then another, till he 
 produced it. 
 
 " Now, then, put the wood," said Maude wisely. 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Hubert. " I've seen Ellen 
 do it scores of times. Here, Arthur, take the kettle ; 
 you were to fetch the water, were you not ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I'll get the water," said Arthur, taking up 
 the very sooty-looking kettle. 
 
 It is hard to tell what the respectable Markham's 
 feelings would have been could she have seen her 
 young gentleman at that moment, his small hands 
 holding the kettle, and his eyes sparkling with plea- 
 sure as he made his way towards the pump. He no 
 longer wore the long curls that had been his mother's 
 pride, but had made Leslie call him " girlish," when he 
 first came. Still, no brush would ever quite tame his 
 somewhat unruly locks. When he reached the pump 
 a difficulty met him. How could he hold the kettle 
 and pump at the same time ? After several attempts
 
 74 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 to hook on the kettle, he decided to pump several 
 times very quickly, and then put the kettle under in 
 time to catch the water. This plan answered very 
 well, and before the fire had burnt up much he was 
 back with his kettle of water. His face was flushed 
 when he got back, for the pump-handle was hard and 
 stiff for the small hands that tried to work it. 
 
 The children watched the fire as it burnt up 
 brightly, and soon Maude said she thought they 
 might venture to put on the kettle. There is an old 
 saying, " that watch pot never boils," and so the 
 children thought. Never had kettle seemed so long 
 before doing its duty. But at last there was no 
 mistake about it. There was the steam coming out 
 of the spout in right proper fashion, and then Maude's 
 work began as tea-maker. While it was brewing 
 she made a nice piece of toast, and then the meal 
 was ready. 
 
 If the children wanted any reward, they certainly 
 had it richly in old Christie's evident enjoyment. 
 He drank his tea and ate his toast as much as they 
 could desire, and was even tempted with a small 
 piece of the fish that Mrs. Cameron had sent. 
 
 The old man looked quite different before they 
 left. Doubtless the food had refreshed him ; but, still 
 more, his sad heart had been cheered and comforted 
 by the loving care of the three children. 
 
 On their return home they soon sought Mrs.
 
 Making Tea. 75 
 
 Cameron, and told her how poorly they had found 
 old Christie. She was glad they had been able to 
 do something for him, and promised to go and see 
 him herself the next day, if possible. 
 
 Mrs. Cameron's was a busy life. In spite of her 
 large household she still found time to brighten a 
 good many hearts outside her home. So the next 
 day found her on the way to Christie's cabin. She 
 was grieved to see how changed he was, though 
 he brightened up at the sight of her, and was 
 warm in his praises of the children's goodness 
 to him. 
 
 " I was afraid as you'd be vexed, Ma'am," he said, 
 " for it seemed such a thing for the young gentlefolks 
 to be waiting on an old man like me." 
 
 " No, indeed, Christie ; I was very pleased that 
 they should be able to do any little thing for you. 
 I should be grieved for them to grow up selfish, as 
 many young people do, as if they had nothing to live 
 for but their own pleasure. Besides, you must not 
 think the kindness was all on their side ; you don't 
 know how pleased they were to help you. They came 
 home as happy as birds." 
 
 " Bless them ! " said the old man. " I shall never 
 forget seeing them light that 'ere fire ; and then Master 
 Arthur, he fetched the kettle of water ; and the young 
 Missie, she made the tea. Why, I might have been 
 a prince," said Christie proudly.
 
 76 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 " Now tell me a little about yourself. I am so sorry 
 to see you looking so weak and poorly." 
 
 " I do feel as if I were near done for, Ma'am, and 
 it would be very nice to be going Home." 
 
 " Have you something fresh troubling you just 
 now ? " 
 
 Christie looked up into her face. 
 
 " What made you think that, Ma'am ? " he asked. 
 
 " Well, something made me think it might be so," 
 she said, smiling ; " and sometimes it is a comfort to 
 talk a trouble over with a friend." 
 
 " Ah ! yes, Ma'am, that's true ; but there's nothing 
 like telling it all out to the Lord. I've always got 
 Him when there's no one else." 
 
 " Have you heard of Mary and the children ? " Mrs. 
 Cameron asked, feeling that, whatever was the old 
 man's trouble, she must leave him to tell her or not 
 as he felt inclined. 
 
 " No, Ma'am, I haven't heard a word of her, and 
 the time seems long without tidings. I'm afeared she's 
 having a hard struggle. I sometimes wish as she 
 was nearer, that she might look in upon me." 
 
 " Yes, I wish she was ; but, of course, while she 
 has work in the City it is most necessary that she 
 should live as near to it as possible." 
 
 " Oh yes, Ma'am, that's true. Mrs. Brown's give 
 me notice to leave. I'll be very lonesome when she's 
 gone."
 
 Making Tea. 77 
 
 This enlightened Mrs. Cameron a little. No doubt 
 this was no small trouble to the old man. His cottage 
 was a poor tumble-down place, but it had more 
 room in it than any one would suppose. Mrs. Brown 
 was a widow who, with her daughter, had gladly lived 
 in two of the dilapidated rooms, for which she paid 
 the sum of one shilling and sixpence a week. Cir- 
 cumstances had made her decide to leave London 
 and go back to the county to which she belonged. 
 And so old Christie was to lose his tenant and his 
 small weekly rent. He could hardly hope that any 
 one would take the rooms again in such a condition. 
 And he had no money to spare to renovate them and 
 make them more fit for habitation. 
 
 Mrs. Cameron saw the difficulty at once, and well 
 knew that old Christie would not only miss the 
 weekly money, but perhaps even more the many 
 kind, neighbourly acts that Mrs. Brown was wont to 
 do for him. She left the cottage feeling so concerned 
 about the old man's future, that she decided to write 
 to his daughter-in-law and ask her to come and see 
 him, if possible.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 HUBERT'S PLAN. 
 
 received Mrs. Cameron's letter on the 
 Friday evening, the night before her last 
 day at the factory. She was feeling very 
 down-hearted, wondering where she was to look for 
 work, and this seemed a fresh trouble. Then she 
 thought of Jacob, and remembered how he thought 
 everything was against him, when God was really 
 making all things work together for his good. Was 
 not her God the God of Jacob ? And had He not 
 the same power still ? She determined that if she 
 should be let off early from work the next day, as 
 seemed highly probable, she would go and see her 
 father-in-law. She feared he was very poorly, and she 
 knew nothing would cheer him so much as seeing her. 
 The next day she found there was little or no work 
 to be had, and there was ample time for her to go to 
 old Christie's and get back before dusk. She was 
 well repaid by his warm welcome. He had never 
 
 78
 
 Hubert's Plan. 79 
 
 seemed more truly glad to see her. At first they 
 neither of them told of their new troubles, not liking 
 to give the other pain ; but after Mary had told every- 
 thing she could think of about the children, Christie 
 naturally asked how her work was getting on. 
 
 " I am sorry to say it has come to an end to-day, 
 father," she said quietly. 
 
 " Come to an end, Mary ? " he said. 
 "Yes, father; I am sorry to say it has, and as 
 yet I have not been able to hear of any more." 
 
 "They do say as troubles don't come alone," said 
 Christie. " I've a trouble too. Mrs. Brown's leaving 
 '; me. She's been here a good many years, and it will 
 seem lonesome with the old place quite empty." 
 Just then a small figure appeared at the door. 
 " Oh Christie ! I've run so fast. I said I would 
 get here first, and so I have." 
 
 "This is Master Arthur, Mary. The dear young 
 people are so good to me, the very sight of their bright 
 faces cheers me up. Well, Master Arthur, and what 
 may you be wanting this afternoon ? The boat, I ex- 
 pect. I thought as some of you would be sure to be 
 down ; the river's as tempting as can be." 
 
 Here Hubert appeared. " What do you think, 
 Christie ? Father's coming down this afternoon, and 
 mother too. Isn't it fine ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; arid I hope you will all enjoy it 
 greatly."
 
 8o Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 Mrs. Cameron soon came in sight, with the Doctor 
 and Bernard. While they were busy getting out the 
 boat she went into the cabin and had a chat with 
 Mary, and soon drew from her the news that she had 
 no more work. 
 
 " Mother, please come," shouted Hubert. " Here, 
 Arthur, go and tell her we are all waiting." 
 
 When they were settled in the boat Mrs. Cameron 
 told them about Mary. 
 
 " Mother, why can't she come and live in Mrs. 
 Brown's rooms ? " said Hubert. 
 
 " Oh Hubert ! they are so dirty and dilapidated ; 
 the paper is all off the walls, and the ceiling so black you 
 would never dream that it had ever been white. She 
 would be quite offended to be asked to live in such 
 a place." 
 
 " But why couldn't it be done up ? " suggested 
 Bernard. 
 
 "The landlord is a close-fisted man, that won't 
 spend a penny on the place, and certainly Christie 
 cannot do it," said Dr. Cameron. 
 
 " The rooms would not be so bad, I believe," said 
 Mrs. Cameron, " if they were only done up and kept 
 clean. Though Christie is so partial to Mrs. Brown, she 
 is really very dirty." 
 
 " I think the old man is beginning to need some 
 one to look after him," said the Doctor. " He has 
 certainly aged very much since last summer. It
 
 Huberts Plan. 81 
 
 would be a great comfort for him to have his daughter- 
 in-law near him." 
 
 Arthur had been silently listening to the conver- 
 sation, with his hand dabbling in the water, and 
 apparently intent on a small toy boat he had in tow. 
 Suddenly he looked up and asked " if it would cost 
 very much to do up Christie's rooms. Would it cost 
 more than a whole sovereign, Mrs. Cameron ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear ; I am afraid it would cost a good deal 
 more than that." 
 
 Arthur looked very disappointed. 
 
 " Why do you ask, Arthur ? " seeing he looked 
 really troubled. The pale face got very red all over. 
 
 " Grandpapa gave me a whole sovereign the other 
 day when I was eight years old. I have been going 
 to spend it on lots of things, but I'd like to make 
 Christie's rooms nice." 
 
 " It is a kind thought, Arthur," said Mrs. Cameron. 
 " A whole sovereign would do a good deal, but I am 
 .afraid it would cost more to do all that is needed." 
 
 " Why can't we all help, mother ? " said Bernard. 
 " I am sure we could whitewash the ceiling and paper 
 the walls ourselves ; and if Arthur would really like to 
 spend his sovereign, I should think it would stop all 
 the bad places on the roof." 
 
 " It would make Christie very happy, I believe. But 
 while we are making all these nice little plans, what 
 is Mary to do without work ? "
 
 82 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 The young faces all fell at this thought. 
 
 " Can't you give her needlework, mother ? " said 
 Hubert. 
 
 " I dare say I could" said Mrs. Cameron, smiling, 
 as she thought of the pile of stockings at home and 
 the many new garments that were continually being 
 wanted ; " but I am afraid I cannot possibly afford 
 to keep her in work, however pleasant it would 
 be to provide for her and have my work done 
 for me." 
 
 " Oh dear ! " said Arthur ; " and we thought we 
 had got such a lovely plan." 
 
 "We must think it all over," said Mrs. Cameron. 
 " You see, we have never thought of trying to get 
 work for Mary in this neighbourhood. Perhaps it 
 might be possible if we set about it. If she is not 
 gone home when we go back, I will have a talk with 
 her and see what she says to it." 
 
 When they returned to the cabin they found Mary 
 still there ; so, telling the others to go on home, Mrs. 
 Cameron stayed behind to have her talk. 
 
 " I had never thought even of trying for work in 
 this neighbourhood," she said after hearing what Mrs. 
 Cameron had to say. " Certainly father does sadly 
 need some one to look after him ; I can't bear to think 
 of his shifting for himself. I'm afraid he eats next 
 to nothing." 
 
 " The rooms are in a sad state, I know," said Mrs.
 
 " Grandpapa, I want to ask you something." Page. 86.
 
 Hubert's Plan. 
 
 Cameron, " but still they can be cleaned and made fit 
 for habitation." 
 
 " It's very kind of you to think of it all for me, 
 Ma'am," said Mary. 
 
 " Well, I must not claim it as my plan ; it was the 
 young people who thought of it first, and proposed 
 doing up the rooms for you." 
 
 " Bless their young hearts ! " said Christie, chiming 
 in, " it beats me altogether how they ever think 
 of all the kind things. It's always when they come 
 in, ' Now, Christie, isn't there something we can do 
 for you ? ' and really, now, they do look quite disap- 
 pointed when I say there isn't anything. I only 
 wish, Ma'am, as you could 'ave seen them mak- 
 ing the tea the other day. I shall never forget 
 them." 
 
 " There is a lady whom I know slightly," said 
 Mrs. Cameron, "who takes a great interest in the 
 employment of women. I will endeavour to see her 
 to-morrow, and if she can suggest anything I will 
 let you know." 
 
 So Mary returned to her children that night with 
 a cheered heart, feeling sure that God was once 
 more fulfilling His promise of caring for the fatherless 
 and widow. 
 
 The same evening little Arthur Ferrers was 
 sitting with his grandfather in the library, watching 
 him as he turned over the leaves of his book, and
 
 86 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 wondering when he would shut it up and say, as he 
 generally did 
 
 " Well, Arthur, what are you up to ? " 
 It seemed to Arthur that night as if he were much 
 longer than usual, and the little fellow had something 
 he very much wanted to say. At last the book was 
 shut up, and the spectacles carefully taken off and 
 put in their case. Arthur was in such a hurry that 
 he did not wait for his grandfather to begin that 
 night, but going close up to him, he put his small 
 hand on his knee and said 
 
 " Grandpapa, I want to ask you something." 
 " Do you ? Why, what is the matter. Have you 
 broken your clockwork engine, or been offending 
 old Markham ? " the old gentleman asked. 
 
 " No, grandpapa ; it is not either. The engine is 
 a beauty, and I do try to take great care of it ; and 
 Markham said I had not got in such a mess to-day. 
 I wanted to speak to you about my birthday present." 
 " Why, I gave you one, didn't I ? " said Mr. Ferrers 
 quickly. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, you did a bright new sovereign." 
 " Ah ! I remember ; and you were going to buy a 
 bat, and a watch, and a walking bear, and a musical- 
 box, and I don't know what else with it." 
 
 " Yes, grandpapa, I know I was ; but I want to do 
 something else with it now ; only I should like to ask 
 you about it first."
 
 Hubert's Plan. 87 
 
 " Well, what is it now ? I think your sovereign is 
 going to do a great deal." 
 
 " You know old Christie, grandpapa ? " 
 
 " Old Christie ? Who is he ? " 
 
 " Oh ! you know whom I mean ; our dear old boat- 
 man, who tells me such jolly stories about India, and 
 storms and battles, and all sorts of things." 
 
 " Oh yes, of course ; I have heard you talk of him, 
 but I did not remember his name. He lost his son, 
 didn't he ? " 
 
 " Yes, that's just it ; and now he is getting old and 
 he is ever so lonely, and an old woman and her daughter 
 who have been living in two of his rooms are going 
 away. It's such a tumble-down sort of cottage. 
 Christie likes to call it his cabin in remembrance 
 of his old days on board ship, but it is so old and 
 shabby that Dr. Cameron says he wonders they have 
 not taken it down long ago." 
 
 " Well, Arthur, and what has that to do with your 
 birthday sovereign ? " 
 
 "That's just what I'm going to tell you, grandpapa; 
 only I've so much to say. You see, when his poor 
 son died he left his little children, and Mary (that's 
 his wife) has such hard work to get them food. She's 
 had some work at a factory, I think Mrs. Cameron 
 called it, but now they don't want her any more." 
 
 " Poor thing ! And did you want to give her your 
 sovereign ? "
 
 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 " No, grandpapa, that isn't it. We thought it 
 would be so nice for old Christie if she could come 
 and live with him. You see, she could look after him 
 and make his tea and all that," said the little fellow 
 wisely. " But the rooms are so dirty ; the ceiling is 
 just as black as the stove, and the rain comes in at 
 the ceiling." 
 
 " It doesn't sound very comfortable," said Mr. 
 Ferrers. 
 
 " No ; but we want to make it comfortable," said 
 Arthur eagerly. " We're going to whitewash the 
 ceiling and paper the walls with the prettiest paper 
 we can find. Only, you see, we could not do the 
 roof; and so Bernard and I want to get Riley to 
 do that, and we think he will do it for a sovereign." 
 
 "And you want to whitewash the ceiling and paper 
 the walls ? " said Mr. Ferrers incredulously. 
 
 " Of course I couldn't do that, grandpapa, because 
 I am not nearly tall enough ; but Bernard is quite a 
 big fellow, and we shall get Riley to lend us his 
 steps." 
 
 " I see you have settled it all very nicely," said 
 Mr. Ferrers. 
 
 " Then, grandpapa, I may do it, may I not ? " 
 
 " Do what ? " 
 
 " You won't mind my spending my birthday 
 sovereign like that, will you ? " 
 
 " No, Arthur ; the sovereign is your own, to do just
 
 Hubert's Plan. 89 
 
 as you like with it ; but are you quite sure, when you 
 have nothing to show for it, that you won't want the 
 walking bear, and the bat, and all the other things 
 you talked about ? " 
 
 The little fellow looked thoughtful for a minute, as 
 if weighing it all in his mind, then said gravely 
 
 " No, grandpapa, I don't think I shall want the 
 other things too ; I shall be so glad if it makes old 
 Christie happy." 
 
 " Very well, then ; you have my permission to 
 spend the money in this way if you like. You are 
 sure Dr. and Mrs. Cameron know all about the cot- 
 tage and what is needed ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed they do. Oh ! won't Christie be 
 pleased when he hears all about it ? " 
 
 And Arthur, in his exuberant joy, ran out into the 
 garden, tossing his cap as he went.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 RILEY'S WORKSHOP. 
 
 next morning Mrs. Cameron went to see 
 Miss Nev JUe, the lady she had told Mary 
 about on the preceding day. She found her 
 at her writing-table, surrounded with papers. But 
 busy as Miss Neville was, she seemed always ready 
 to listen to any new case of care and sorrow, if there 
 were any possibility of giving a helping hand. She 
 now turned her chair and prepared to listen to Mrs. 
 Cameron with all the interest she could command, 
 indeed as if hers was the only case in the world. 
 
 "Ah ! that's just it," she said, when Mrs. Cameron 
 had told her story. " Here is a mother that ought 
 to be at home with her children, and yet must earn 
 sufficient to make a living for herself and her family. 
 You should try and get one of the children, if not 
 two, into one of the many excellent orphan homes, 
 and then there would be fewer mouths to feed. Now, 
 what can we do for the mother? It is evidently 
 
 90
 
 Riley's Workshop. 91 
 
 most essential that she should have work at home, 
 as she has two at least who much need her constant 
 care the grandfather and her baby. I have been 
 able, with the help of other ladies, to start a society 
 that meets such cases as these. It is very small at 
 present, but will, I hope, soon grow to much larger 
 dimensions. We have a fund out of which we buy 
 material. This is cut out into useful garments, and 
 given to women who are good needlewomen to make. 
 They are paid at a rate at which they can really make 
 a living, and do the work at home. Many ladies buy 
 them gladly for the cost of the work alone. Of 
 course, ladies can buy their own material if they 
 wish, and have it cut out to their own patterns, but 
 the price paid for work is decided by the ladies' 
 committee. We have lately had some good orders 
 for trousseaux, and our society seems likely to grow 
 in favour. You see, the women must be good needle- 
 women or they are not eligible. Now, does not this 
 exactly suit your case, Mrs. Cameron ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed I think it is just what I wanted." 
 " You must let me see the widow, so that I may 
 test her powers as a needlewoman, for you understand 
 me the work must be good" 
 
 Miss Neville here rose rather abruptly. She had 
 given her complete attention to the case, and now 
 must turn to others ; so Mrs. Cameron rose, promising 
 that Mrs. Somers should call and see her shortly.
 
 92 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 In a few days more Mary had had a satisfactory 
 interview with Miss Neville, and her name put down 
 on her list of workers, which promised her more than 
 she had been able to earn at the factory. There 
 were many advantages, as she would have much less 
 rent to pay if she lived under the same roof with her 
 father-in-law, and would also save several shillings 
 a week in looking after her children herself. 
 
 The children had by no means changed in their 
 wishes to do their part in doing up Christie's rooms, 
 and Dr. and Mrs. Cameron were anxious for them to 
 feel that the responsibility rested with them to see 
 that it was all carried out. The services of the whole 
 party were enlisted, and one and all were prepared to 
 enter into it heart and soul. The summer holidays 
 had just begun, so that they were free to give as 
 much or as little time to it as they wished. Bernard, 
 being the eldest, was deputed by the others to go to 
 Riley's workshop and make arrangements with him 
 about commencing the roof without delay. The elder 
 boy was exceedingly kind to the little Arthur Ferrers, 
 and seeing his wistful look as he saw him starting, 
 he asked him to go too. Arthur was delighted. He 
 looked up to Bernard with great veneration, he was 
 so tall and manly ; indeed Arthur thought everything 
 that Bernard did must be right. 
 
 " Come along, youngster," he said to Arthur; " let 
 us go and make our bargain with Riley."
 
 Riley' s Workshop. 93 
 
 He had to make little runs to keep up with the 
 strides of Bernard's long legs, so it did not take 
 them long to reach Riley's workshop. He was a 
 steady workman, who had a short time since left his 
 old master and set up for himself. He was at his 
 carpenter's bench as the boys entered, planing some 
 wood, and the chips were flying in all directions. 
 
 " Good-evening, sir," he said as he stopped and 
 saw Bernard. 
 
 "We want you to do a little job for us, Riley," 
 Bernard began. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " You. know old Christie's cottage, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; it's time I did. I've known it now, boy 
 and man, nigh on five-and-thirty years." 
 
 "We want to do the old place up a little ; it's in a sad 
 condition; the roof leaks, and it's frightfully dirty." 
 
 " No doubt, sir." 
 
 " Well, we want you to look at the roof, and see 
 what you can do to make it a bit sea-worthy." 
 
 " I expect it's just about crazy," said Riley, rubbing 
 his forehead. 
 
 " Of course, we can't afford a new roof, or anything 
 like it, but we thought a few new tiles would do a 
 great deal. The fact is, Riley, I think we must take 
 you into the secret ; this is not my father's affair, but 
 simply among us young people ; so please don't charge 
 a penny more than you are obliged," he added, laugh-
 
 94 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 ing. " You must let us know what you can do for 
 the roof, and then the two rooms Mrs. Brown has 
 left must be scraped down. My father won't hear 
 of the new paper going on till that is done." 
 
 "And he's quite right, sir." 
 
 " You see, Riley, after the old paper is scraped off 
 we intend to whitewash the ceiling and put on the 
 paper ourselves." 
 
 Riley 's eyes grew perceptibly larger. 
 
 "You young gentlemen are not going to do it, 
 surely ? " 
 
 "Yes, we are," cried Arthur, unable to keep silent any 
 longer. " Our money won't pay for everything ; and 
 we shall have such fun over it, shan't we, Bernard ? " 
 
 " Yes ; we'll do it all right ; you see if we don't." 
 
 " Very well, sir ; I will go along this evening and 
 have a look at the old place, and then I'll let you 
 know what can be done." 
 
 An hour or two later Riley made his way to 
 Christie's cabin ; and indeed the old man had done 
 his utmost to make the kitchen look as much like 
 a cabin as he could. He was smoking his pipe at 
 the door as Riley came up. He and Will had been 
 boys together, and it was always a pleasure to Riley 
 to do the old man a good turn if he could. 
 
 " Ah ! here you are in the old place, I see," said 
 Riley cheerily, " Have you got some good baccy, 
 Mr. Christie ? "
 
 Riley' s Workshop. 95 
 
 " It's just about as usual, thank'ee, Isaac. What 
 brings you here this fine evening ? " 
 
 " I've come on a bit of business ; I've orders to 
 look at your roof and see what's up with it." 
 
 " Who have yer seen, then ? " asked the old man. 
 
 " Ah ! you're too inquisitive there, I'm thinking." 
 
 " It surely warn't any of the young folks up at the 
 Doctor's. They did say summat about the old place, but 
 I scarce thought they'd ever think any more about it." 
 
 '' They bain't that sort," said Riley shortly. 
 
 " No, they're not, for sure they've got just the 
 kindest young hearts that ever beat." 
 
 " You've lost old Mrs. Brown at last, I hear." 
 
 " Yes ; and I was thinking how lonesome I'd be 
 all alone in the place, and at the top of it Mary conies 
 and tells me as how her work's all stopped, and it just 
 seemed as if everything were turned agin me. But it's 
 not like our Father in heaven to turn agin His children. 
 He was only planning out something better for us ; but 
 we, poor ignorant critturs as we are, thought everything 
 was going wrong because we couldn't see His way." 
 
 Riley fidgeted about first on one leg, then on the 
 other, as Christie spoke. He knew nothing of this 
 trust in God. He had never felt, as old Christie did, 
 that he needed a Saviour. He simply prided himself 
 in his honour, his upright dealings with his fellow- 
 men, and his general kindness to his neighbours. But 
 there were times when Riley did not feel quite satis-
 
 96 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 fied that he was on the right track, and he never felt 
 this more than when he was talking to old Christie. 
 
 " I think I'll just go and have a look at the roof, 
 Mr. Christie," he said, not wishing to continue the 
 conversation ; " and I'll look in at the rooms that 
 Master Bernard spoke of." 
 
 "What! did Master Bernard go about it hisself?" 
 
 " Yes ; and a fair young gentleman was with him. 
 They do say as he's come from the Indies." 
 
 " Yes, bless him ! that's Master Arthur Ferrers." 
 
 " I don't know what they calls him, but he seemed 
 as interested about the work as ever Master Bernard." 
 
 When Riley had finished his survey he came and 
 poked his head into the kitchen for a moment. 
 
 " Good-night, Mr. Christie," he said, and was gone. 
 
 As he strode along he made his calculations, and 
 coming to the turning which led up to The Chestnuts, 
 .he said to himself, " I may just as well go now," 
 and in a few minutes more he was asking if he could 
 speak to Master Bernard. The news soon spread 
 among the young people that Riley had arrived, and 
 very anxious they were to hear what he had to say. 
 Arthur Ferrers was playing rounders with the younger 
 children, but they rushed off at once to follow Bernard 
 to the back-door. 
 
 "Well, sir, I've been down and had a look round," 
 Riley said ; " it really wants a new roof, or indeed 
 I might as well say a new cottage altogether."
 
 Ri ley's Workshop. 97 
 
 The young countenances all fell. Was Riley going 
 to say that nothing could be done after all ? 
 
 " Of course, sir," he went on, addressing Bernard, 
 " I can patch the old roof up, and you may depend 
 upon it I'll do the very best I can." 
 
 " But what will it cost ? " asked Bernard. 
 
 " Well, sir, I know as it's you young gentlemen as 
 are wanting to do it all for old Christie, and if you 
 wouldn't think me bold for saying so, I'd dearly like 
 to help in it too. He's the father of the best friend 
 as I ever had, and I'd like to do him a good turn if 
 I could." 
 
 " It is very good of you, Riley. I think I can 
 answer for all of them," looking round the party, 
 " that they will be only too glad of your help." 
 
 " Well, sir, I think the materials will come to just 
 about a sovereign, as near as I can tell, and if you 
 could afford that, sir, I'd like just to give the work in 
 myself," said Riley, getting red. 
 
 " Oh ! it's splendid," said Arthur, clapping his 
 hands in his excitement. " Why, it's just the very 
 sum ; isn't it, Bernard ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that will suit us exactly," said Bernard. 
 " I am sure it is awfully kind of you to help us like 
 this, Riley. 1 fear we should have had to give it up 
 for the present if you had not stepped in and given 
 your work in. I am very low in the funds just now," 
 he added, laughing, and chinking a few coppers in 
 
 G
 
 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 his pocket. " And I believe the others are much in 
 the same boat." 
 
 " Don't you trouble, sir," said Riley, laughing too. 
 " We'll do the old place up fine between us." 
 
 "Will you let us have some papers to choose 
 from ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! " cried Arthur ; " we want the very 
 prettiest paper we can find." 
 
 " All right, sir. I've got a book of papers down at 
 the workshop, which I will let you have to look at." 
 
 " Oh ! do let us go and fetch it," said Arthur 
 impetuously. 
 
 " Why, my dear young gentleman, it is almost as 
 big as you are," said Riley, laughing. " You couldn't 
 carry it." 
 
 " Hubert would help me. Wouldn't you, Hubert ? " 
 
 " We'll all go," said Bernard. " I dare say I can 
 carry this ponderous book." 
 
 So back they went with Riley to the workshop, and 
 Bernard carried the big book back in triumph. 
 
 " I want to see them dreadfully, don't you, Hubert ?" 
 said Arthur, as he capered along by Bernard's side. 
 
 He had not long to wait, for they soon reached 
 The Chestnuts, and Bernard carried it at once to the 
 schoolroom, where they could inspect it as long as 
 they liked. 
 
 Certainly Bernard proved to be a most patient 
 showman, for he turned over page after page without
 
 Riley's Workshop. 99 
 
 grumbling. If it had been the decoration of some 
 stately drawing-room that had been under discussion 
 no greater care could possibly have been bestowed 
 upon it. At last a paper that was suitable in price, 
 and all agreed was cheerful without being too bright 
 in colour, was selected, and Hubert was sent to seek 
 Mrs. Cameron. She soon obeyed the summons, and 
 the Doctor came with her to see the young people's 
 choice. They both thought the selection a good 
 one and this knotty point being settled, the younger 
 members of the party hurried off to bed.
 
 .h** 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 THE YOUNG WORKPEOPLE. 
 
 j|HE very next morning Riley arrived at Christie's 
 door with a long ladder and all the other 
 paraphernalia connected with mending a tiled 
 roof. Christie came out and watched his preparations 
 with great interest, and soon after breakfast Hubert 
 and Arthur came running down to know if Riley was 
 really going to begin work. Hubert was for climb- 
 ing the ladder, and making a personal examination 
 of the roof; but Riley guessed rightly that Arthur 
 would want to follow his example, and decided that 
 both boys would be safer on terra firma. 
 
 " Oh Riley 1 do let me go up just once," Hubert 
 pleaded. 
 
 " No, sir, I really can't allow it. If the Doctor 
 were here hisself, and didn't object, all well and goody 
 but I'm not going to run the risk of carrying you 
 home with broken legs or arms." 
 
 " It is stupid of Riley," said Hubert sullenly. 
 100
 
 The Young Workpeople. 101 
 
 " Why, I've been on a ladder lots and lots of 
 times." 
 
 But Riley was quite firm on the point, and so the 
 boys had to content themselves with watching his 
 proceedings from below. After a while they began 
 to tire of this, especially as the sun got very hot ; so 
 they decided to return home. At the gate they saw 
 Mrs. Cameron coming out from Mr. Ferrers'. 
 
 " I have been paying your grandpapa a visit, 
 Arthur," she said, as she joined them. " I went to 
 ask him if he would allow you to go with us to 
 Stourcliffe. What would you say to it ? " 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Cameron, really ! how kind of you ! But 
 what does grandpapa say ? " asked Arthur eagerly. 
 
 " He is quite willing for you to go for a little 
 while at least ; he thinks the sea and country air 
 will do you good." 
 
 " And I was thinking whatever I should do when 
 Hubert was gone ; I should have no one to play with. 
 But do you think grandpapa can spare me ? Will he 
 be very dull without me ? " asked Arthur gravely. 
 
 " I hope not. I think he seemed really glad to 
 have you go." 
 
 " I wish I could tell mother about all the nice 
 things," he said sadly, a sudden remembrance of his 
 mother coming to him. " She was so glad when I 
 had anything nice, and this is just the jolliest, happiest 
 thins: that could be."
 
 IO2 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 " I am so glad," said Mrs. Cameron, tenderly 
 putting her hand on the little fellow's shoulder. "It 
 is a great pleasure to make you happy, dear child." 
 
 " I must go and thank grandpapa," he said, darting 
 off, and in a couple of minutes a breathless little 
 visitor was standing at Mr. Ferrers' library door. 
 
 Mr. Ferrers looked up from his book, a little vexed 
 at being disturbed. 
 
 " Oh grandpapa ! I could not help it," he said 
 apologetically, "you are the kindest, dearest grand- 
 papa that anybody ever had." 
 
 " Why, whatever is all this about ? " asked Mr. 
 Ferrers. 
 
 " Mrs. Cameron says you will let me go with them 
 all to Stourcliffe, and I am so delighted I don't know 
 what to do." 
 
 " You will like to go, then, Arthur ? " 
 
 " Oh yes. But are you sure you won't be dull, 
 grandpapa? Will you be lonely without me? Be- 
 cause I won't go if you would." 
 
 Mr. Ferrers had at first dreaded the frequent com- 
 pany of a child, but he had learnt to like seeing the 
 little figure come into the library, and he knew well 
 that he should miss him sadly. But he saw the 
 anxious look on the boy's face, and only said 
 
 " I shall be very pleased for you to go, Arthur. I 
 want to see these cheeks a little fatter, and some 
 more colour in them."
 
 The Yo^lng Workpeople. 103 
 
 So Arthur was satisfied, and ran off to tell Bailey 
 and Markham of the pleasures in store. 
 
 By the evening of the next day Riley had the 
 rooms ready for the young workers to begin their 
 operations, and very gladly provided them with steps 
 and planks, besides very full instructions as to how 
 they were to proceed. Bernard and Leslie, attired in 
 very old shabby coats, stood ready to begin, while the 
 younger members of the party peered in at the door, 
 being unable to render any assistance at this juncture. 
 
 Hubert and Arthur were however useful as 
 messengers. 
 
 " I tell you what, this is hot work," said Bernard, 
 after they had been at it for a couple of hours. 
 " What do you say, Leslie ? " 
 
 "Yes, very hot; and doesn't it make your arms ache?" 
 
 "Here, you youngsters," said Bernard, "go up to 
 the house and see if you cannot get us some 
 lemonade. I was never so thirsty in my life." 
 
 So off the two willing helpers trotted, and soon 
 came back with two bottles of lemonade and a glass. 
 
 " You are the best little chaps in the world," 
 said Bernard after he had taken the welcome refresh- 
 ment. " Now I shall get on splendidly. Won't you, 
 Leslie ? " 
 
 "Yes, that's better," said Leslie, taking up his big 
 brush. " Here goes." 
 
 The boys worked well, and before they went home
 
 IO4 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 had finished " washing " the two ceilings, as they 
 called it. While they had been busy at the cottage, 
 the girls had been equally busy at home. They had 
 determined that the boys should not leave them in 
 the background, and had persuaded their mother to 
 turn out her stores and see if she had any old 
 curtains that they might make up for the windows. 
 Some white dimity seemed most suitable for their 
 purpose, for, as Maude sagely remarked, " it would 
 wash and go up again as clean and nice as ever." 
 
 " They are much too long for the cottage windows, 
 mother, are they not ? " said Ethel. 
 
 " Yes ; almost double the length you will want, 
 I expect," said Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 "We ought to go and measure the right length." 
 
 " I think you had better content yourself with 
 unpicking some of the binding to-night, and go down 
 to the cottage early to-morrow." 
 
 So when the boys came home they found Maude and 
 Ethel busy unpicking, with little Gladys looking on. 
 
 " Well, boys," said Dr. Cameron, " how is the 
 whitewashing getting on ? " 
 
 " Oh ! first-rate, father. The ceiling's begun to 
 look a little whiter already. Leslie is in such a hurry 
 to begin papering that I believe it makes him keep 
 on more than anything." 
 
 "Well, when all trades fail I shall not turn white- 
 washer," said Leslie, throwing himself into an easy-
 
 The Young Workpeople. 105 
 
 chair and stretching. " If it doesn't make a fellow's 
 arms ache I don't know what does." 
 
 "Very good exercise, my boy," said his father, 
 laughing. 
 
 " You should just come and try it for one half- 
 hour ; you would soon find out what it is." 
 
 " I think I am quite satisfied with your account of 
 it. You are not repenting of your bargain, are you ? " 
 
 " Oh no," said Bernard quickly, answering for 
 his brother. " We will go through with it, and I 
 don't think we shall ever repent. Poor old Christie 
 is, I believe, counting the days for Mary to come." 
 
 The next morning directly after breakfast the 
 young people were off to their work. Maude and 
 Ethel went with them, so that they might measure 
 the windows before the whitewashing began, and 
 after a short chat with old Christie they returned 
 home ready to begin the curtains. 
 
 By the next day the boys were able to begin 
 papering, but Leslie had got rather tired of the work, 
 and gave out at breakfast-time that he had a tooth- 
 ache, and could not go down to the cabin. 
 
 " Don't you think you can go ? " said Mrs. Cameron. 
 "It seems too bad to leave all the work to Bernard, 
 especially as it is such a hot day." 
 
 It was part of Leslie's character to take things up 
 very vehemently at first, but soon tire of them, and 
 it often made his mother anxious about him. " I
 
 io6 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 wish you were more steadfast, Leslie," she would 
 say sometimes. But this work at old Christie's cabin 
 was a labour of love, and she had no wish to press 
 him on to it, unless he did it willingly. So it ended 
 in Leslie taking himself off to the garden and lying 
 under a tree with a book, while Bernard went back 
 to the work attended by his satellites, as Maude called 
 them. 
 
 " I have plenty for you two to do," he said as 
 they reached the room. " You can cut the selvage 
 off the paper, Arthur ; and you can paste, Hubert ; 
 then we shall get on finely." 
 
 The little boys were delighted to find they were 
 really to take some part, and most willingly listened 
 to all Bernard's directions. The worst of it was, that 
 the big scissors were very awkward for Arthur's 
 small fingers, and it ended in his running back to the 
 house to ask Mrs. Cameron to lend him a smaller pair. 
 
 When two breadths of the paper were really up 
 they stood in the centre of the room to see the effect, 
 and as they all decided that it looked first-rate, they 
 went on with renewed vigour. They were tired and 
 hot, when about half-past eleven a step was heard on 
 the stairs, and Maude appeared carrying a basket con- 
 taining some very welcome lunch. 
 
 " My dear Maude, you are the dearest girl in the 
 world," said Bernard, jumping down from the top of 
 the steps. " We are as hungry as hunters, but we
 
 The Young Workpeople. 107 
 
 were so busy we did not like to stop to get anything 
 to eat. How do you think the paper looks ? " 
 
 " Oh ! it is capital," said Maude approvingly. 
 " And how splendidly you have got on ! You will 
 get it done sooner than you expected." 
 
 " The sooner the better," said Hubert. " How are 
 the curtains progressing ? " 
 
 " Very nicely ; but the sides seem very long to 
 bind," said Maude. 
 
 " And you were very glad to slip away, young lady ; 
 and our lunch was a good excuse," said Hubert. 
 
 " I was not sorry to have a run," said Maude, 
 laughing, " but still I knew the lunch would be wel- 
 come. You are not half grateful, Hubert." 
 
 " Yes, indeed I am ; you are the best sister I have 
 just at present." 
 
 "Come, you eat your cake, youngster, and begin work 
 again," said Bernard, " or you will keep me waiting." 
 
 By the next afternoon the papering was finished, 
 and the young people, tired and hot as they were, 
 surveyed their work with a good deal of satisfaction. 
 It only remained now to have the floor scrubbed to 
 make all in readiness for Mary's coming. For this 
 they had enlisted the services of Esther, an under- 
 servant at The Chestnuts, who was always pleased to 
 help the children in any way she could. 
 
 At last even this was finished, and Dr. and Mrs. 
 Cameron were invited to come and inspect the im-
 
 loS Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 provements. Old Christie received them at the door 
 with a beaming face. 
 
 " Oh Ma'am ! it's just fine, and that it is. They've 
 done it as clever as can be. Their young arms must 
 ache, I'm sure. May God bless them," he added fer- 
 vently, " for all their goodness to an old man." 
 
 " I think they have a blessing already, Christie," 
 said Mrs. Cameron ; " their hearts are very light and 
 full of happiness. It must ever be so when we try 
 to do a little kindness for others, and we have our 
 blessed Lord's own promise that even a cup of cold 
 water given in His name shall have its reward." 
 
 " Please, mother, we are all waiting," said Hubert 
 from the top of the stairs. 
 
 There was only one of the party missing, and that 
 was Leslie. He well knew that his toothache had been 
 very slight, by no means sufficient to keep him back 
 from work that he had undertaken of his own free will. 
 And now he felt cross with himself and every one about 
 him. He little knewhowmuch real happiness he missed 
 that night. He had sauntered off by himself in the op- 
 posite direction, knowing that having shirked his work, 
 he had no right to share the general commendation. 
 The party were all so interested that probably no one 
 missed him except his mother, and she had some anxious 
 thoughts about her boy. She wanted to see him faith- 
 ful and steadfast in the little things, and then she 
 knew she need have no fear about the greater ones.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE FLITTING. 
 
 .HILE busy hands had been working such a 
 ^YnR change in Christie's old rooms, no little stir 
 *&**&' had been going on in the upper floor of the 
 large lodging-house where Mary lived. Having been 
 out at work so much, many things had been neglected. 
 Pots and pans that in Will's time had been bright 
 had of late been looking dim and murky, and Mary 
 availed herself of the few days to polish up and make 
 all ready for the flitting. 
 
 But one little heart was very sad at the coming 
 change. This was Birdie's. The child yearned for 
 love, and when she found it in her new playfellows 
 she prized it dearly. Her mother, it is true, had 
 always loved her tenderly, but she did not make much 
 show of it. If she had ever been disposed to be 
 demonstrative, it had long ago faded away under the 
 chilling influences of her life, and though she went 
 to church Sunday after Sunday, it was more to please 
 
 109
 
 1 10 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 Birdie, who had an intense love for music, than for 
 any real comfort she herself derived from going there. 
 And now the bright spot that had come into the 
 child's life was to be taken from her. She had been 
 so happy before, not knowing what she lost by being 
 blind. Never having had the real companionship of 
 children, she had never missed it. But now she 
 knew how sweet the child-friendship was, and she 
 could think of nothing else but that it was going from 
 her, as far as she knew, for ever. 
 
 The last evening had come, and Birdie had just 
 come out from Mary's room. Tears were streaming 
 down from the sightless eyes when her father came 
 up the stairs, his bag of tools in his hand. 
 
 " Come, stop that," he said roughly to the child ; 
 " I don't want no crying when I come home." 
 
 But poor Birdie's heart was full, and the tears 
 rained down her cheeks the faster. She was always 
 rather frightened of her father. Perhaps she was 
 half-conscious that he had never forgiven her for 
 being a girl instead of a boy, and then when he had 
 found that she was blind he had looked upon her 
 as useless, and the little love he had seemed to go 
 altogether. No wonder that Birdie's mother looked 
 sad and crushed with such a husband. He strode on 
 into the room, throwing down his bag in one corner 
 with a great clatter. 
 
 Harry was standing at his mother's half-open door,
 
 The Flitting. 1 1 1 
 
 and hearing Birdie's pitiful sobs, he ventured out on 
 to the landing, when he knew that her father was 
 safely inside his own room. Taking the child's hand, 
 he led her back to his mother's room. Mary had 
 just gone out to a shop close by, so the two children 
 were alone. Harry had a kind, tender heart, much like 
 his father's, and he could not bear to see Birdie's tears. 
 
 " Don't cry, Birdie," he said, trying to comfort her. 
 
 "I can't help it," said Birdie, sobbing; "I shall 
 never, never be happy any more." 
 
 This was her first real sorrow, and she could not 
 be comforted very easily. Harry looked at her with 
 a puzzled face. At last he said 
 
 " Birdie, don't you remember about the kind Friend 
 mother was telling you about the other day ? " 
 
 Birdie nodded. 
 
 " You know mother said He loves children, and 
 He is always near us. Won't it comfort you to 
 think about Him ? " 
 
 Birdie shook her head. " I want you, Harry, and 
 Polly," she said sadly. 
 
 " I wish you were going with us." 
 
 " I wish I was. Father is so cross, I'm frightened 
 of him," said Birdie, shuddering, and drawing closer 
 to Harry as if for protection. 
 
 " When you're afraid, Birdie, you should tell the 
 Lord Jesus about it. I know He is strong and kind, 
 and I specs He knows as you are blind."
 
 1 1 2 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 " Do you think He does ? " said Birdie, looking a 
 little more interested. 
 
 "Yes, I am sure He does. He was ever so kind 
 to the blind people when He was here on earth. I 
 have heard mother read about it." 
 
 " Mother never reads stories out of the Bible like 
 your mother does." 
 
 " But don't you hear them at church ? " said Harry. 
 
 Birdie shook her head. " It's the organ and the 
 singing I like best." 
 
 " Oh ! I like the stories," said Harry, who had not 
 such a keen enjoyment of music as the blind child. 
 " I am sure it was last Sunday that the clergyman 
 read about the two blind men." 
 
 " What did he say ? " 
 
 " Why, he said that these two blind men had 
 heard about Jesus, how He had cured many sick 
 people, and one day they heard the people crying out 
 that Jesus was coming. They could hear the crowd 
 tramping along, and they thought in another minute 
 He would be gone. So they cried out ever so loud." 
 
 " What did they say ? " 
 
 " I can't quite remember, but it was something 
 about mercy." 
 
 " And did Jesus hear them ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and He stopped directly." 
 
 " It was kind of Him. Do you think He is the 
 same now ? "
 
 The Flitting 1 1 3 
 
 " Yes, I think so. Mother," he said, as Mary 
 entered, " I have been telling Birdie about the two 
 blind men, and Jesus is just as kind and loving now, 
 isn't He ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, just as kind and loving." 
 
 " I told you so," said Harry triumphantly. 
 
 Mary looked at the tear-stained little face, and 
 drawing the child to her, she said 
 
 " Do you know, Birdie, Jesus can comfort us better 
 than any one else can. I like to think He is always 
 near me, always loving me." 
 
 " But perhaps He doesn't love me," said Birdie. 
 
 " Yes, I am quite sure He does ; and He wants you 
 to love Him in return. We can never thank Him 
 enough for all He has done for us. Just think how 
 He left His Father's home in heaven, to come down 
 and live on the earth just as we do. And then, 
 above all, He died for us, Birdie ; we have no earthly 
 friend who loves us half as well." 
 
 " He must have loved us to do that," said Birdie 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Yes, indeed He must. Don't you want to love 
 Him, Birdie ? " 
 
 " I think I'd like to ; but then if I'm cross and 
 angry He won't care about me, will He ? " 
 
 " He would be very grieved, Birdie, but He would 
 love you still. When you feel cross and angry, you 
 
 can always ask God to forgive you for the sake of 
 
 H
 
 ii4 OM Christie's Cabin. 
 
 His dear Son, and ask Him, too, to help you not to 
 grieve Him. We are going to leave you, dear, but 
 remember that Jesus is always near. Will you ask 
 Him to help you to love Him more ? And never, 
 never forget that He always loves you." 
 
 Here Birdie's mother came to the door to say that 
 it was past bed-time. Her face looked more sad and 
 worn than usual, and she bade the child be quiet, as 
 father had come home and seemed very cross. 
 
 Birdie needed no second bidding to be quiet. She 
 knew her father's moods, and crept to bed as silently 
 as a little mouse, looking very different to the merry, 
 happy Birdie that she usually was. 
 
 The next day Mary and her children were to 
 accomplish the flitting. The kind Doctor and his wife 
 had promised to bear this expense for her, which 
 had been another burden lifted from her shoulders. 
 She had not felt so cheered since her husband's 
 death, though she could not leave the spot where she 
 had spent so many happy years with him without 
 a pang. Poor little Birdie listened to each sound as 
 it fell upon her ear. She could not see, but she 
 heard each piece of furniture moved from its accus- 
 tomed place, and she knew that all too soon the 
 rooms would be silent and empty. 
 
 " I think it is all gone now," she heard Mary say. 
 " Now, children, we must start at once. It will not 
 do to keep the van waiting." For Mary's stock of
 
 The Flitting, 1 1 5 
 
 furniture was not so extensive but that it left plenty 
 of room for her and her children. 
 
 " Good-bye, Birdie," she said, tenderly kissing the 
 child. " Don't cry, dear. Do remember about the 
 Lord Jesus and how He loves you. You must come to 
 our new home some day and see Harry and Polly." 
 
 This seemed like a gleam of hope to the sad child. 
 
 " Oh ! don't forget, please. I shall want to come 
 some day ever so badly." 
 
 " Good-bye, Birdie," called Harry and Polly together, 
 and then the van moved slowly down the street. 
 
 It was well that Mrs. Cameron was blessed with an 
 unusual store of patience, or it would have been used 
 up long before night on the day that Mary was 
 expected. 
 
 " Mother, when do you really think they will come ? " 
 Hubert would ask, to be followed shortly by numerous 
 questions from Arthur as to how big the van would 
 be, how long they would take on the road, and end- 
 less other inquiries. 
 
 Probably old Christie was scarcely less impatient 
 than the children. It would be hard to tell how many 
 times he climbed the steep stairs to have a look round 
 at the now clean and pleasant-looking rooms. 
 
 Mrs. Cameron had assured the children that it was 
 not at all possible for them to arrive till late in the 
 afternoon. It was scarcely past three, however, before 
 Hubert and Arthur appeared at Christie's door.
 
 n6 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 " They haven't come yet, Christie, have they ? " 
 asked Hubert. 
 
 " No, Master Hubert, I don't expect as they can 
 be here just yet. You see, it's a goodish way to come 
 right down from London." 
 
 The boys stayed till nearly five, when pangs of 
 hunger warned them that it must be tea-time. But 
 they soon returned, and just as they once more reached 
 the cottage the van came in view. Maude had come 
 with them this time, as she too longed to hear how 
 Mary liked her rooms. 
 
 " Here they are, Christie, here they are ! " shouted 
 Arthur, and in a minute the old man was out at the 
 door, shading his eyes from the bright sun. 
 
 "Yes, there they be, Master Arthur, sure enough. 
 Bless 'em ! there's the children." 
 
 The van came to a stand, and Mary with her 
 baby in her arms jumped lightly down, followed by 
 the other children. 
 
 " Here you are at last, Mary," Christie said. " I 
 and the young gentlemen have been looking out for 
 you ever so long. They want to show you the rooms. 
 Will you go up at once ? " 
 
 " Yes, surely," said Mary, but little guessing half 
 the pains and trouble that the young people had 
 bestowed on them for her comfort. So Arthur and 
 Hubert proudly led the way, Maude following behind 
 with little Polly.
 
 The Flitting. 1 1 7 
 
 " Oh, how nice, how beautiful ! " Mary exclaimed, 
 a pleased, happy look passing over her face. "And 
 have you young gentlemen done all this for me ? 
 Oh ! it is good and kind. And what a pretty 
 paper ! " 
 
 " We wanted the very prettiest paper we could 
 find," said Arthur, "and we all thought this the 
 cheerfullest of any." 
 
 "It is so sweet and clean. I shall never be able 
 to thank you as I would ; " and, to the children's 
 astonishment, .real tears began running down Mary's 
 cheeks. They did not know that there are tears of joy 
 as well as sorrow. 
 
 After everything had been duly admired, Maude, 
 with ready tact, drew the boys away, knowing intui- 
 tively that Mary would rather be left alone when so 
 much had to be done. 
 
 Downstairs they found Harry and Polly gazing at 
 the river, full of interest in the bright new scene. 
 
 "You will like this better than London, won't 
 you ? " asked Hubert. 
 
 "Yes; it's real jolly," said Harry. "But I wish 
 Birdie was here too ; she would like it, and it will be 
 mighty dull for her now we're gone." 
 
 " Who is Birdie ? " asked Arthur. 
 
 " Oh ! she's a blind' girl as lived on the same 
 floor with us. She's no brothers or sisters, and 
 her father's awfully cross and rough."
 
 1 1 8 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 " Poor girl ! " said Maude kindly. " And I suppose 
 she used to play with you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and she'll have no one now." 
 
 Here Mary's voice was heard calling the children 
 indoors, so Hubert and Arthur set off home, satisfied 
 at last in knowing that Mary had arrived. 
 
 " Well, was Mary pleased ? " asked Mrs. Cameron 
 as she met them in the hall. 
 
 " Yes, very pleased," said Maude. 
 
 " But, mother, wasn't it strange she began to cry ? " 
 said Hubert. , 
 
 " Did she ? Poor thing ! I don't think the tears 
 meant that she was sorry. I expect her heart 
 was very full ; and if you could have understood, 
 you would have known that they were tears of 
 thankfulness."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 TWO LITTLE LONDONERS. 
 
 (HE next morning, as Dr. Cameron was open 
 ing his letters he made an exclamation on 
 reading one of them. 
 
 " Well, that is the most sensible plan I have 
 heard of for some time." 
 
 " What is that ? " asked Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 " Why, some one has suggested raising a fund 
 for taking some of the poor children of London who 
 are in weak health to the country for a fortnight." 
 
 " What a splendid idea ! Fancy the intense hap- 
 piness it will give, to say nothing of the renewed 
 health." 
 
 " I wonder if people will take it up heartily. I 
 hope they will take good care where they send the 
 children," said Mrs. Cameron. " Much judgment will 
 be needed in choosing the right places, or rather, 
 I should say the right people to take care of them." 
 
 " Yes ; but I am afraid many of the poor children 
 
 119
 
 I2O Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 ./ 
 
 have so many hardships in their own miserable 
 homes that it would be difficult to find anything 
 worse." 
 
 " How would it be, Allan, instead of giving money, 
 to take two children with us to Stourcliffe ? " 
 
 The Doctor rather opened his eyes at this proposal. 
 
 " My dear, I hardly think you have calculated 
 what that means." 
 
 " I quite agree with you that it needs thinking 
 over, but it always seems easier to put one's hand 
 in one's pocket and give money than it is to take a 
 little trouble." 
 
 " But you need rest. 1 am sure you do not want 
 more children to look after." 
 
 " I don't think this would add to my trouble very 
 much," said Mrs. Cameron. " And anything we 
 can do to help our children to think of the happiness 
 of others when they have so much to enjoy them- 
 selves must be good." 
 
 " Yes, I am sure of that. If all of us who profess 
 to follow Christ would remember ' that even Christ 
 pleased not Himself,' the world's care would be 
 wonderfully lightened. Children brought up only 
 to think of themselves are not likely to grow up 
 unselfish men and women." 
 
 " I do not think that two poor children would 
 be in our way," said Mrs. Cameron. "You see, the 
 old farm is a large, roomy house ; there is plenty of
 
 Two Little Londoners. 1 2 1 
 
 good milk, and the fields and the shore would give 
 enjoyment for all." 
 
 "Well, we must think it over," said the Doctor, 
 rising to go on his rounds. 
 
 Maude had been sitting near, with a book in her 
 hand, half reading and half listening to her father 
 and mother's conversation. When the Doctor had 
 left the room she put down her book and exclaimed 
 
 " Mother, I think it would be a lovely plan to 
 take two poor children down to Stourcliffe. Harry 
 was speaking last night of some poor blind child 
 that they knew in London who, he said, would miss 
 them dreadfully. Wouldn't it be nice if we could 
 take her ? " 
 
 " Who is she ? " asked Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 " I do not know anything about her except that 
 she is blind and has a very cross father." 
 
 " Well, I intend going down to-day to see how 
 they are all getting on at the cabin, and I will try 
 and hear something more about her ; but I must not 
 propose her going to Stourcliffe without hearing 
 whether father approves of it." 
 
 Later in the day Mrs. Cameron and Maude walked 
 down to old Christie's cabin. They found Mary 
 looking very comfortable in her new quarters, and 
 full of gratitude for all the kindness that had been 
 shown her. Harry was down by the river-side, 
 fascinated with the new scenes that surrounded him.
 
 122 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 " Harry was telling my young people last night," 
 said Mrs. Cameron, " about a little blind girl." 
 
 " Oh yes, poor Birdie ! " said Mary ; " it made my 
 heart ache to see her crying so when we came away. 
 She had never had any children to play with till she 
 knew mine, and now she will sadly miss them, I fear." 
 
 " Has she no brothers or sisters ? " 
 
 " No ; and though her mother loves her dearly, 
 still she is so worn and sad that she is not a bright 
 companion for her." 
 
 " Has she a father ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but I fear he is no comfort in his home. 
 He earns good wages, but brings very little of them 
 home. Besides that, he is often very cross and 
 rough, as if he had no patience with poor Birdie." 
 
 " Is Birdie her real name ? " asked Maude. 
 
 " No ; Fanny is her right name, but her mother 
 calls her Birdie because she is always singing. She 
 looks very sadly, poor child, though, very often." 
 
 After a little further chat Mrs. Cameron and 
 Maude took leave, taking with them a pleasant re- 
 membrance of the contented faces in the cabin. 
 
 " I think we have really helped to make them a 
 little happier, mother ; don't you ? " said Maude as 
 they walked home. 
 
 " Yes, dear, indeed I do. The boys will be pleased 
 to hear how much their work is appreciated." 
 
 As they entered the garden they found Bernard
 
 Two Little Londoners. 123 
 
 busy with his coat off, but looking very hot with 
 gardening. 
 
 " Why, mother, you look as hot as I do," he 
 said ; " come and sit down in the shade. Won't 
 Stourcliffe be delicious after this intense heat ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed it will ; and we shall enjoy our 
 holiday all the more for having had plenty of work 
 to do before." 
 
 "Where have you been, mother? To old Christie's?" 
 
 " Yes. The next few days will be very busy ones, 
 so I thought I would go at once and see how they 
 were all getting on." 
 
 " Well, and how did you find them ? " 
 
 " Mary was looking very comfortable. She is 
 already busy at the work Miss Neville has sent her. 
 And as to old Christie, he is quite a picture of con- 
 tent. You have helped to make them very happy, 
 my boy." 
 
 Bernard did not say anything, but he got a little 
 redder, and a pleased, happy expression overspread 
 his face. 
 
 " In this world of many sorrows it is a great privilege 
 to be able to brighten the hearts of any sad ones, 
 and help to lighten their burden. There are many 
 kind actions done in these days from simple kindness 
 and goodness o'f heart, which we may call philanthropy, 
 but there is something far higher, my Bernard. There 
 is a sympathy and love that goes out to our fellow-
 
 124 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 men and women when we truly love Christ and are 
 in touch with Him which is something altogether 
 different. If we are His we want to walk even as 
 He walked. We want to be merciful because He was 
 merciful, and He would have us be like Him." 
 
 Bernard was silent, so Mrs. Cameron said presently 
 in a low voice 
 
 " Which is it with you, Bernard ? " 
 
 It was very hard for Bernard to speak of the 
 things he felt most deeply, but there was a wonderful 
 bond between this mother and son ; if he could tell 
 any one he could tell her. So he said slowly 
 
 " I think, mother, that lately it has been the last." 
 
 Mrs. Cameron glanced up at the honest boy-face 
 with a glad look, and he was encouraged to say more. 
 
 " It was the night before the Confirmation, mother. 
 I felt I could not make that solemn promise without 
 I really meant to be Christ's altogether. But I find 
 some things are much harder to do than being kind." 
 
 " Yes, that will be so ; you have naturally a kind, 
 warm heart, that is willing to help others. It is 
 harder for you to keep down a high spirit, envy, 
 jealousy, and such things. Is it not so, Bernard ? " 
 
 " Yes, mother, that is just it," said Bernard, hang- 
 ing down his head. " I felt awfully jealous when I 
 saw Campbell carrying off the English Literature prize. 
 I was downright ashamed of myself." 
 
 " I thought so," said his mother quietly.
 
 Two Little Londoners. 125 
 
 " How did you know, mother ? I hoped nobody 
 guessed, for I felt horrid." 
 
 " I don't think anybody did but your mother 
 and God," said Mrs. Cameron. " I hope you went 
 straight to Him and asked for forgiveness, Bernard. 
 What a comfort it is for you young ones to have 
 such a Friend ! I know how hard it is to many 
 to talk about these things, but you need never be 
 shy with Him, never fear that He will misunder- 
 stand you." 
 
 " Thank you, mother mine," said Bernard ; " there 
 is no one helps a fellow to do right like his mother." 
 
 " Yes, Bernard, Christ can, for He loves you even 
 better than your mother." 
 
 Just then Dr. Cameron came across the lawn 
 towards them. 
 
 " Well, my dear," he said, seating himself, " I think 
 we will try and carry out the plan you proposed this 
 morning." 
 
 " What was that ? " 
 
 " Why, the plan of taking two poor children down 
 to Stourcliffe with us." 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad. Then you have come to my 
 way of thinking ? " 
 
 " Do I not generally find my wife is right ? " said 
 the Doctor, laughing. 
 
 " He does not always say so, does he, Bernard ? " 
 said Mrs. Cameron. " But what has made you come
 
 126 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 to this decision ? Have you found some children that 
 you think would be better for a change ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is just it. But the worst of it is, that 
 when you begin to think about the subject, there are 
 so many to choose from." 
 
 " You have been at the Dispensary, of course, to-day." 
 
 " Yes ; and with this plan in my head, I felt each 
 child looked worse than the last." 
 
 " That is very awkward, father, for certainly you 
 cannot take them all," said Bernard. 
 
 " No, that is just it. I have made up my mind 
 about one at any rate. I have known the child for 
 some time, and she has interested me very much. As 
 I drove home to-day, I thought I would look her up, 
 and see if her home was as wretched as I had pic- 
 tured it." 
 
 " And was it ? " 
 
 " Yes ; only a great deal worse. The father is a 
 bargeman on the river, a low type of man, and I hardly 
 know how he comes to have such a nice little daughter. 
 The mother, it seems, is dead, and the elder sister 
 is supposed to look after the home. I fear she has 
 mostly neglected it. The place was dreadfully dirty, 
 and a boy I saw said his elder sister was always 
 going out and leaving them to do as they could. I 
 expect the father drinks ; but the boy struck me as 
 very loyal, and evidently had no intention of showing 
 up the family troubles more than was necessary. In
 
 Two Little Londoners. 127 
 
 deed, I could hardly get anything out of him till I 
 began talking of Milly ; then he warmed up consider- 
 ably. The child came in while I was there, and you 
 should have seen her face when I asked if she would 
 like to go into the country." 
 
 " Poor child ! " 
 
 " Tommy that is the boy seemed half alarmed at 
 first at the idea of his little sister going away so far ; 
 he seems to consider himself her chief protector ; but 
 when I told him my own children were going too he 
 seemed satisfied." 
 
 " But will the father and sister consent ? " 
 
 " Well, fortunately the young lady came in just as 
 I was leaving, so I was able to hear what she had to 
 say about it. She made no objection, as you may 
 suppose ; indeed, I think she is very glad to get rid 
 of her for a while. So, my dear, you see we have got 
 one child. What about another ? " 
 
 " I think I have another." 
 
 " Indeed. Who is that ? " 
 
 "A little blind girl who lives in the big lodging- 
 house that Mary has just left in town." 
 
 " Then you had better make arrangements at once," 
 said the Doctor in his prompt way. 
 
 " I wonder what Rogers will say to it all ; a great 
 deal depends on the view she takes of it," said Mrs. 
 Cameron. 
 
 " Oh ! she is a good old soul, is Rogers," said the
 
 128 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 Doctor. " You put it to her in the right way, and 
 she will be pleased as possible to make the children 
 happy. They will be out of doors all day, and be no 
 trouble to anybody." 
 
 " I will go and talk to Rogers at once," said Mrs. 
 Cameron, rising. She had gone a little way, when 
 she heard the Doctor calling to her 
 
 " My dear, I forgot to say that I don't think my 
 little girl has many clothes to her back." 
 
 Mrs. Cameron looked a little dismayed. " Oh 
 Allan ! and we are so busy." 
 
 " Ethel and I can help mother," said Maude, who 
 had joined the group just after her father. 
 
 " Oh yes," said Mrs. Cameron cheerfully. " I 
 think we can soon get a few clothes together. It 
 seemed rather overwhelming for the moment to have 
 to think of any more clothes than are needed for the 
 family." Then she turned and went into the house. 
 
 As the Doctor had said, Rogers was a very kind 
 old soul, though she had a peculiar side, like most 
 other people. She had lived with the Camerons since 
 Bernard was a baby, and considered herself as quite 
 part of the family, as indeed she was. Any joy or 
 sorrow that touched them touched her, and she knew 
 that she had always kind, sympathising friends in her 
 master and mistress. Now Mrs. Cameron told of her 
 plan with some fear that Rogers would not, perhaps, 
 take to it as kindly as the Doctor expected.
 
 Two Little Londoners. 129 
 
 When Mrs. Cameron had finished she stood silent, 
 but Rogers' face seemed to say plainly, " I should have 
 thought there were plenty of children without taking 
 any more." 
 
 " There is so little we can do for the Master's 
 sake, Rogers, is there not ? I so often think of the 
 words, ' Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil 
 the law of Christ,' " said Mrs. Cameron, taking no 
 notice of her silence. 
 
 " I didn't think of that, Ma'am," she said slowly. 
 "If you think it would please Him, I am sure I'm 
 willing." 
 
 Mrs. Cameron had touched the right chord. 
 Rogers did love her Saviour truly, and anything 
 she could do for His sake was always sweet to her. 
 
 And so it was settled that two children out of the 
 multitude of London's little ones should share the 
 joys and pleasures of the Camerons' seaside holiday.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 STOURCLIFFE. 
 
 'URING the few days that remained before 
 the family was to move to Stourcliffe there 
 was, as Mrs. Cameron said, plenty to do ; but 
 when everybody is willing to do his share cheerfully, 
 it makes all the difference. It was a great packing 
 up, and no mistake about it, for the whole household 
 migrated to the sea, leaving The Chestnuts in sole care 
 of the gardener and his wife. But in spite of all 
 there was to do, Mrs. Cameron did not forget Milly's 
 clothes. Ethel had suggested that a friend in the 
 neighbourhood, who had a little girl of Milly's age, 
 would perhaps have some discarded garments, and 
 accordingly she had set off early one morning to 
 enlist Mrs. Thome's sympathy. The result had been 
 even more than Ethel hoped for; so, with Maude's 
 help in a little altering and mending, the clothes were 
 ready for Milly by the appointed day. Little Arthur 
 Ferrers was in and out continually, for he was so ex- 
 cited he could not keep still, and Mrs. Cameron needed 
 
 130
 
 Stourcliffe. 1 3 1 
 
 all her patience to bear with the many interruptions. 
 But in the midst of his own pleasure he did not for- 
 get his grandfather, and Mr. Ferrers noticed him several 
 times, on the last day, looking very wistfully at him. 
 
 " Grandpapa," he said at last, " I do wish you 
 were going too." 
 
 " My travelling days are over, Arthur." 
 
 " Are you quite sure you would not rather that I 
 stayed with you ? Won't you be very lonely ? " 
 
 " I shall miss you very much, Arthur, I know, for 
 you have been my little comforter. But I am glad to 
 have you go, because I think it will do you good." 
 
 " Mrs. Cameron says Jesus can comfort us better 
 than anybody else. He comforts you, grandpapa, 
 doesn't He ? " 
 
 " I don't know much about that, Arthur," said Mr. 
 Ferrers uneasily. 
 
 " Don't you ? I am so sorry. I hoped you knew 
 all about Him," said Arthur, with a troubled face. 
 
 " Never mind, Arthur ; you will be my little com- 
 forter again when you come back, won't you ? " 
 
 " I'll try. Mother said I was to try and make 
 you glad, but, you see, I am only a little boy, and I 
 didn't know how ; so I ask Jesus to teach me every 
 day how to make you glad." 
 
 " Now run away and play, my boy," said Mr. 
 Ferrers rather hurriedly, but at the same time draw- 
 ing the child to him and kissing him tenderly.
 
 132 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 The next morning every one was up early at The 
 Chestnuts, and all stood in readiness when the omnibus 
 from the railway station arrived which was to convey 
 them to Victoria. Dr. and Mrs. Cameron, with Maude 
 and Leslie, were to drive down in the carriage, so 
 that there was room for the others and the luggage. 
 
 Milly had been brought to the house at breakfast- 
 time, and looked quite a different child already, attired 
 in her new clothes and with a radiantly happy face. 
 It had been arranged for Birdie to join them at Vic- 
 toria, as her mother was quite able to take her there. 
 There seemed no end to the packages, and it took some 
 management to stow them away so that the top of the 
 omnibus might take them all. But at last they were 
 all up, and the whole party very willingly said " Good- 
 bye " to The Chestnuts and work for a time. 
 
 The house which Dr. Cameron had rented some 
 three years before at Stourcliffe for the benefit of 
 his children stood on a cliff about a mile and a 
 half away from the town itself. It was a roomy 
 family dwelling, though now somewhat dilapidated. 
 Attached to it, and yet quite separate, was a farm, 
 which was worked by a man who lived in what was 
 called the farm-cottage ; so that the Camerons had all 
 the benefits of a farm-house, without the trouble of it. 
 The building was picturesque enough in itself, built of 
 dark-red brick, which was, however, almost completely 
 hidden by well- trained ivy, which grew round the case-
 
 Stourcliffe. 133 
 
 ment-windows. There was ample room within, and 
 the Doctor had furnished it with comfort, though very 
 simply and at small expense. Some large trees gave 
 a delicious shelter from the sun during the hot days, 
 and from its high position on the cliff a glorious view 
 of sea and coast-land could be had from the windows. 
 This was the children's country home, which this time 
 the pale little Londoners were to enjoy with them. 
 
 Directly Milly saw Birdie's sweet face at Victoria 
 Station she seemed drawn to her at once, and both 
 children were soon quite at ease with their new 
 friends. Rogers appeared willing from the first to 
 extend to the little strangers a sort of motherly pro- 
 tection, which was shared by the other servants, so 
 that there was no fear of their not being well cared for. 
 At Stourcliffe Station they found a wagonette and cart 
 for the luggage awaiting them, but the boys preferred 
 walking along the cliff, glad to find themselves at last 
 within sight of the sea. The farm had many advan- 
 tages, its complete seclusion from the road enabling 
 the young people to do just what they liked. A private 
 path led down to the shore, which afforded a splendid 
 bathing-place, while Stourcliffe itself was within easy 
 reach when they desired more amusement. 
 
 This year the Doctor had prepared a surprise for 
 them. In the cool of the evening they were much 
 astonished to hear the sound of light wheels upon the 
 gravel-path. At such an unusual noise most of the
 
 134 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 family ran out to see what could be coming, and to 
 their astonishment there stood at the front-door a 
 pretty, low carriage, drawn by a well-groomed donkey, 
 a boy standing at its head. 
 
 " Mother, do come out," cried Ethel. " Here is the 
 prettiest little carriage and donkey that I have ever 
 seen. Where can it have come from ? " 
 
 Mrs. Cameron, hearing the excitement, now appeared 
 at the door, and joined in the general admiration. 
 
 "Whose is it?" she asked. Then glancing at her 
 husband's face, she read there the whole story. " Oh 
 Allan ! this is good of you," she said. " How did you 
 manage to do it all so quietly ? I am sure we none 
 of us dreamt of such a surprise. It is the prettiest 
 carriage and the most charming donkey I ever saw." 
 " You like it, then ? " the Doctor said. 
 " Yes, indeed. How could we help liking it ? It 
 will be most useful here, and just what we wanted." 
 
 " The donkey, I believe, goes splendidly," said the 
 Doctor. "It has been well cared for, as you see." 
 " Yes; it looks as proud as possible." 
 " It has been a great pet with a lady who is lately 
 dead, and her relatives were very anxious to find a 
 good home for it." 
 
 " Come, mother, you must have a drive at once," 
 said Bernard. " Here, Hubert and Arthur, you get 
 in first, and have the honour of the first drive." And 
 so they set off, looking a very happy party as the 
 Doctor stood and watched them.
 
 Stourcliffe. 135 
 
 The next morning everybody was eager for bathing, 
 the Doctor going out before breakfast with his boys, 
 and the girls following later, provided with their tent, 
 which was quickly put up upon the shore. They 
 were all content to do very little that first day beyond 
 enjoying a sense of rest and having nothing to do, 
 which is so pleasant after hard work. Perhaps no 
 one enjoyed the happy life more than the blind child 
 Birdie. It was touching to see her walking along 
 hand-in-hand with her little companion Milly, listening 
 eagerly to all she told her of the beautiful scenes 
 around her. The child loved to be taken down to 
 the water's edge and be allowed to dip her hands into 
 the rippling waves, and she would be content to sit 
 for the hour together listening to them plashing 
 against the rocks. 
 
 " Do you like it very much ? " asked Maude one 
 day, as she found her sitting and listening to the 
 sounds intently. 
 
 " Oh yes," said Birdie, her face lighting up 
 with one of its brightest smiles. " Isn't it all beau- 
 tiful ? Did God really make it all ? " she asked 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " Yes," said Maude, " God made it all. Was it not 
 kind and good of Him to give us so much to enjoy ? " 
 
 " Yes, He must be very kind," said Birdie thought- 
 fully. " Harry said he was sure that God knew I 
 was blind. ' Do you think so, Miss Maude ? "
 
 136 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 " Yes, I am sure He does, because God knows 
 everything." 
 
 "Harry said that Jesus was very good to blind 
 people when He was here on earth. You see, he 
 knew all the stories in the Bible, but my mother does 
 not read them to me, as his mother does. I think 
 I can't help loving Him for being so good to us." 
 
 " Would you like me to read to you sometimes ? " 
 asked Maude. 
 
 " Oh yes, please ; and then I should know all these 
 beautiful stories, and Milly will hear them too. Do 
 you know, she has hardly heard anything about God. 
 She does not know any one who loves Him." 
 
 " Poor little Milly ! " said Maude, and then she was 
 silent for a time, listening as intently as Birdie to the 
 waves, and thinking how good God had been to her. 
 Young as she was, she felt she might do something to 
 tell of His great love to these little stranger children 
 who had no one to teach them about Him. 
 
 All at once she was startled by a great rush down 
 the cliff. First came Bernard and Leslie, followed by 
 Hubert and Arthur. 
 
 "What is the matter ? " she asked. " I should have 
 thought you would be hot enough in this sun without 
 rushing about like wild Indians." 
 
 " Look, Maude," said Bernard, " that is the excite- 
 ment," pointing to what looked like a speck upon 
 the sea,
 
 Stourcliffe. 137 
 
 " Well, what is it ? " 
 
 "Why, father has been into Stourcliffe again to 
 try and hire us a boat, and we believe the man is 
 bringing her round. Won't it be jolly ? " 
 
 " Yes, splendid," said Maude, now joining in the 
 excitement. 
 
 " How long will you give her before she gets in ? " 
 asked Leslie. 
 
 " I'll give her ten minutes," said Bernard. 
 
 " I'll say five," said Leslie. 
 
 " I will say ten," said little Arthur, who always 
 followed Bernard's leading. 
 
 " I have my watch," said Bernard, taking it out. 
 " It is hot, certainly. I shall go and sit down under 
 that bit of shade and wait." 
 
 Five minutes passed. 
 
 " Where is your boat, Leslie ? Your five minutes 
 is up." 
 
 " I expect the tide's all against her," said Leslie. 
 
 " Of course it is ; I calculated for that." 
 
 In five minutes more the boat grated against the 
 rock, and the boys gave a cheer. 
 
 " Hurrah for the Fairy ! " they cried. 
 
 They wanted to go for a row there and then, but 
 the dinner-bell was heard ringing on the top of the 
 cliff, so they could not stop longer than to assist the 
 boatman in pulling her up to a safe place on the 
 shore.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 FIREMEN NEEDED. 
 
 {HE same evening of the arrival of the boat, as 
 some of the party were coming home from a 
 row just at dusk, they thought they saw a 
 peculiar light a short distance inland. At first some 
 one suggested that it was the moon rising, but they 
 soon remembered that it would rise in quite an 
 opposite direction. 
 
 " Can it be a fire, father ? " asked Bernard. 
 
 " It looks very much like it," he said, at the same 
 time taking the oar from Leslie's hand and giving some 
 good strokes, which soon brought them to shore. 
 
 " It must be very near," said Leslie. 
 
 " Not so near as you would think, probably. We 
 will try and find out at any rate." 
 
 The boat was soon hauled up, and the whole 
 party went rapidly up the cliff. Then they could see 
 at once that it was a fire. They stopped at the house 
 for a moment to tell the others, and Maude and Ethel 
 joined them directly. No one was to be seen about 
 
 138
 
 Firemen Needed. 139 
 
 the farm ; no doubt all hands had gone off at once 
 to see whether they could render assistance, so they 
 could only be led on by the light. 
 
 A turn in the road, however, showed them that it 
 was at the next farm, a small one, which lay almost 
 half-way to Stourcliffe. 
 
 " Is it a stack, father, do you think ? " asked 
 Hubert. 
 
 " Very likely. It is to be hoped there are no 
 buildings near." 
 
 " I think there are. I believe I noticed a barn and 
 a cottage very near to it the last time I walked into 
 Stourcliffe," said Bernard. 
 
 " I wish we were there," said Arthur. 
 
 " Are you getting tired ? " asked Ethel. " Take 
 ray hand and let me help you along." 
 
 Arthur took the offered hand very willingly, though 
 he would not for a moment allow that he was tired. 
 Presently they were near enough to hear the shouts 
 of the men as they called to one another ; and in 
 two or three minutes they could see them dancing, 
 as they appeared, around the burning mass. 
 
 " The fire has taken great hold, I fear," said the 
 Doctor. " Here, Bernard, you and I had better go 
 on quicker ; every moment is of importance. Perhaps 
 we can help with the water." 
 
 There had been no one, unfortunately, to take the 
 lead, and the supply of water had not been utilised 
 to the best advantage.
 
 140 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 " Here's the Doctor," cried one man, catching sight 
 of him. " Cheers for the Doctor. Now we shall do." 
 
 Without hardly appearing to do so, the Doctor at 
 once took the lead. He had taken in the position in 
 a moment, and saw that without well-directed efforts 
 to bring the flames under the barn must go ; and then 
 a cottage stood hard by, as Bernard said. Happily 
 there was a pond not far away, which gave a fair 
 supply of water, and a good many strong fellows 
 willingly did the hardest work. At the Doctor's 
 direction a chain of men passed the buckets on from 
 one to another as rapidly as possible ; women, too, 
 being among the number ; and Bernard and Leslie 
 also took their places among them. Ethel and Maude, 
 with the two younger boys, stood apart gazing at the 
 exciting scene, and longing to be of some assistance. 
 The men worked their hardest, but the hay was dry, 
 and a breeze springing up, blew the flames towards the 
 barn in spite of all their efforts. Then a murmur 
 went through the crowd, " The cottage ! the cottage ! " 
 
 "There's plenty of time for that," said several 
 voices ; " the cottage is all right." 
 
 " Who lives in the cottage ? " asked Ethel of a 
 woman standing by. " Is it not old Mrs. Wilson ? " 
 
 " Yes, Miss ; and a queer body she is, too. I doubt 
 whether they'll ever persuade her to leave the old 
 place." 
 
 " Poor old body ! " said Ethel. Then turning to
 
 Firemen Needed. 141 
 
 Maude, she whispered, " Don't you think we might find 
 the old woman and comfort her a little ? She must 
 be dreadfully frightened. I think we might go round 
 and see if she is in the cottage." 
 
 By skirting the little crowd they were able to make 
 their way to the main road, and so gained an entrance 
 to the cottage garden. Just as they reached the gate 
 a fire-engine from Stourcliffe came tearing up, and 
 immediately set to work. 
 
 Ethel and Maude walked up the little pathway to 
 the cottage-door, and could then see the old woman 
 inside, with her head bowed in her hands and trem- 
 bling violently. Two or three neighbours stood by 
 her, but they did not look very sympathetic. The 
 fact was, the old woman had shut herself up like an 
 oyster for years, resenting any overtures of her neigh- 
 bours and repelling all love. Now it was duty, not 
 love, that had brought them to her in her trouble. 
 Ethel went in quietly and sat down beside her the 
 fair young girl of seventeen looking a strange contrast 
 to the wrinkled, bent old woman. Her warm young 
 heart was touched by the deep trouble she saw before 
 her, and she thought of nothing but that here was 
 some one who needed comforting. 
 
 " I am so very sorry for you," she said kindly, 
 placing her hand on the old woman's worn one. 
 
 The voice must have struck her as strange, for she 
 looked up apparently to see who it belonged to.
 
 142 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 " I am Ethel Cameron. I came to see if I could 
 help you at all." 
 
 " Cameron ? I've heard tell the name. You're one 
 of the gentlefolks at the farm on the hill, hain't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, we live at the farm ; so you see we are near 
 neighbours." 
 
 " What have you come nigh me for ? I never asked 
 nobody to come," she said roughly. 
 
 " No ; but you do not mind my telling you how 
 sorry we are for you. I am sure you must be very 
 frightened ; but an engine has just come from Stour- 
 cliffe, and we hope the fire will soon be quelled." 
 
 " Do you really think so ? " she asked eagerly. 
 
 " Yes ; I quite hope so. My sister is here with me. 
 I will ask her to go and see how they are getting on." 
 
 As Ethel spoke there was a loud shout, and the 
 cottage was lighted up by a brilliant light. The roof 
 of the barn had fallen in with a great crash, and 
 thousands of sparks were flying upwards. Then 
 Ethel heard a cry " We must save the cottage ! " 
 The neighbours that had been with the old woman 
 when Ethel and Maude entered had slipped away, 
 with a feeling that they had done their duty. 
 
 "You will come with me now," said Ethel in a 
 gentle but firm voice. " Don't be afraid ; let me 
 take care of you." 
 
 There was something irresistible in Ethel's sweet 
 voice, and the old woman, who before had appeared
 
 Firemen Needed. 143 
 
 deaf to the rough entreaties of her neighbours, now 
 rose, and leaning on the young girl, stepped out of the 
 cottage. The fire had not as yet touched it, and the 
 engine was playing on the corner of the barn nearest 
 to it, in the hope of still saving it. 
 
 Dr. Cameron had been so intent on getting the 
 fire under that he had for the moment forgotten all 
 about his girls, and looking towards the cottage, he 
 was astonished to see the bent form of the old 
 woman leaning on the arm of his own daughter. 
 
 Ethel led her to a bank at a safe distance from 
 the crowd, and made her sit down. Every one was 
 working now with redoubled energy, for the flames 
 still rose high, and the Doctor, like many others, 
 feared greatly for the cottage! Ethel felt deeply for 
 the poor old woman sitting there so helplessly, and 
 every moment expecting to see the cottage that had 
 been her home from girlhood burnt to the ground. 
 Just then the wind seemed to go down, there was a hush 
 among the trees, and gradually the flames subsided ; 
 then every one knew that the cottage was saved. 
 
 Ethel had sat silently by the old woman, feeling 
 that no words of hers could comfort her at such a 
 time ; now, when the great dread was over, she bade 
 the old woman look up. 
 
 " See," she said, " the flames are getting lower 
 and lower, and the wind has gone down. I think 
 all is safe now. You must be very thankful."
 
 144 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 The old woman made no answer. Thanksgiving 
 had never been part of her life; she had never learned 
 to look to God as the Giver of all good. 
 
 Ethel was quite startled when she heard her say 
 presently in response " I'll be bound it's all the 
 work of one of these wretched gipsy-boys. I'd not 
 leave a whole bone in their bodies if I could only get 
 hold of them." 
 
 Ethel quite shuddered at her revengeful words, 
 and even more at the way they were said, but 
 she said quietly " It is very wrong if the mischief 
 has been wantonly done by boys ; but when we think 
 of the wrongdoing of others, we ought never to 
 forget how much God has to forgive us." 
 
 It was no time to say more in the midst of all the 
 bustle and confusion, but Ethel looked pitifully at the 
 aged woman beside her, who seemed so resolutely to 
 shut out all thought of God and His great love. Ethel 
 led her gently back to the cottage, fearing that her 
 father might be waiting. There was nothing now left 
 to be done. The stack and barn lay level with the 
 ground, and still smouldered. She quickly found Ber- 
 nard and Leslie, looking tired and dirty, and in another 
 moment Dr. Cameron joined them with the others. 
 
 " Now let us go home as quickly as we can," he 
 said. " Why, Bernard, you are as black as a sweep ; 
 and I suppose I am the same, if I could only see 
 myself. Was that old Mrs. Wilson, Ethel ? "
 
 Firemen Needed. 145 
 
 "Yes, father. She seems a strange old woman. 
 The neighbours had tried to persuade her to leave 
 the cottage, but she wouldn't hear of it. I don't 
 think she half understood the danger." 
 
 " I am very thankful her cottage is saved, poor 
 old body ! whatever she may think of it. If the wind 
 had not lulled just when it did, I believe nothing we 
 could have done would have saved it." 
 
 " I thought 'she would be so thankful when she 
 heard that all danger was past ; but instead of that, 
 she seemed full of revenge to the boys who she thinks 
 were the cause of the fire." 
 
 " Of course, it is a dreadful thing for boys 
 wantonly or even carelessly to set fire to a stack, 
 and they ought certainly to be punished for it. But 
 revenge is another matter ; revenge is a very awful 
 thing, especially when we remember how far we all 
 come short of what God would have us be. It would 
 be a sorry thing for us if God treated us accord- 
 ing to the way we treat Him. How different to our 
 Lord's words on the cross, ' Forgive them, Father, 
 for they know not what they do ' ! " 
 
 By this time they had reached the gate leading up 
 to the farm, and there they found Mrs. Cameron with 
 the rest of the household. This point had given them 
 an excellent view of the fire, and they had watched 
 it till they saw the flames gradually get lower. 
 
 " Here you are at last," she said gladly, " my poor,
 
 146 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 weary firemen. I can see you and Bernard and 
 father have all been at work," she said to Leslie. 
 
 "We are hot and tired and dirty, mother," said 
 Bernard, "but I would not have missed it for any- 
 thing. A fire is certainly most exciting ; and, be- 
 sides, I really think we helped a little. Father was 
 splendid," said the boy, looking at his father proudly ; 
 " he always seems to know just the best way of set- 
 ting about anything. You should have seen, mother, 
 how the men looked to him." 
 
 " There is some one else here who has helped too," 
 said Dr. Cameron kindly, putting his hand on Ethel's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Oh ! father dear, I did not do anything," said 
 Ethel, blushing. 
 
 " I do not think our Master would say so, dear 
 child. He who told us that even a cup of cold water 
 given in His name should not lose its reward will 
 not forget your sympathy and help to an old woman 
 in her trouble." 
 
 The simple words of commendation fell very 
 sweetly on Ethel's ears, and as she took her father's 
 arm and walked slowly up to the house she felt that 
 God's love was a holy, precious thing, and tinged every- 
 thing around her with a rosy hue. Then they went in 
 to supper, and a merry, happy party they were as they 
 sat round the table, hungry with their labour of love, 
 and full of the joyous merriment that belongs to youth.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SAM FINDS A FRIEND. 
 
 LD Mrs - Wilson's idea that the fire had been 
 caused by the careless mischief of boys 
 seemed likely to prove true. Suspicion fell 
 on a band of gipsies who had had an encampment in 
 several places in the neighbourhood. They were a 
 strangely forlorn-looking set, and belonging to them 
 were two boys who were looked upon as dangerous 
 characters. They had been seen lurking about the 
 barn on the evening preceding the fire, but no one 
 had seen them on the day when it occurred, so that 
 it seemed impossible to bring it home to them. 
 Bernard and Leslie had been for a long walk, and 
 were returning home, a few days after the fire, 
 when they unexpectedly came upon the encampment. 
 They were first attracted by cries of distress, and 
 then they saw a boy running as if for his life. A 
 man with a heavy stick in his hand appeared behind 
 him, but soon seemed to give up the pursuit, and 
 
 147
 
 148 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 contented himself with angry threats. After a while 
 the boy looked back to see if he were followed, and 
 being apparently assured that he was not, he threw 
 himself down on the turf and sobbed as if his heart 
 would break. He had evidently not seen Bernard 
 and Leslie, and their path did not take them quite 
 close to the spot where he was lying. 
 
 " Halloa ! that poor fellow seems in dire distress," 
 said Bernard. " You go on, Leslie ; I'll just have a 
 look at him and find out what is up. That man 
 looked as if he could have killed him." 
 
 " All right," said Leslie ; " I'm tired, so I shall 
 make my way home." 
 
 Bernard lightly vaulted over the five-barred gate 
 that led into the field where the boy was, and in 
 another minute was close beside him. He had 
 evidently not heard any one coming, and started up 
 like a frightened hare as he came close beside him. 
 
 " Don't run away," Bernard said ; " you need not 
 be frightened of me ; I am only a boy like yourself." 
 
 Two dark-brown eyes scanned Bernard keenly, 
 and looked full of astonishment. 
 
 " What's up ? You seem in trouble. Can't I help 
 you a bit ? " 
 
 " You ? " said the boy, looking still more aston- 
 ished. " Why, you're not like me ; you're one of the 
 gentle-folks." 
 
 " What does that matter ? I am a boy, and I'm
 
 Sam Finds a Friend. 149 
 
 awfully sorry for you. Was that your father that 
 was following you with that big stick ? " 
 
 "No; he ain't really my father. I've got no real 
 father and mother, and I wish I was dead." 
 
 " Hush ! " said Bernard ; " you mustn't say that ; it 
 is wicked." 
 
 " What do I care ? " said the boy defiantly. 
 
 " You ought to care," said Bernard, feeling half- 
 puzzled to know what to say next. " Has no one told 
 you about God, and how we must one day answer to 
 Him for all the wrong things we have done ? " 
 
 " How should anybody tell me about God ? " the 
 boy said fiercely. " I tell you I am wicked, and if 
 you knew all you wouldn't as much as speak to me." 
 
 " What is your name ? " asked Bernard. 
 
 " Lanky." 
 
 Bernard could hardly help laughing, the name 
 seemed so very appropiate, for the boy's legs were 
 lanky, his arms were lanky, his very hair was lanky. 
 
 " Yes ; but that can't be your real name ? " 
 
 " No ; I'm Samuel by rights, I suppose, but nobody 
 ever calls me anything but Lanky, and I'm used 
 to it." 
 
 " I would rather call you Sam." 
 
 " All right, I don't care." 
 
 " Sam, don't you ever wish that you were some- 
 thing different to what you are ? " 
 
 The boy looked up for the first time with interest.
 
 150 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 11 What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Wouldn't you like to have a different life ? You 
 look so miserable." 
 
 " So I am miserable. I tell you I wish I was dead." 
 
 " Now look here, Sam, you must not say that again. 
 I can quite see you are very miserable, but dying as 
 you are would not make you any less miserable." 
 
 " I don't see that," said the boy sullenly. 
 
 " No ; how can you see it, Sam, when no one has 
 told you about God ? Poor fellow ! I'm dreadfully 
 sorry for you." 
 
 Sam looked quite astonished with the unmistakable 
 'sympathy in Bernard's face. Had he been anything 
 but a boy of about his own age he would probably 
 have thought nothing about it. 
 
 " Will you let me help you, Sam ? " 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " First you must try and give up your bad ways, 
 and ask God to help you to be good. 1 expect you 
 do many things that you know are wrong, don't you?" 
 
 " Do you mean swearing and stealing ? " 
 
 " Yes ; those are two things, and I dare say there 
 are plenty more." 
 
 " I didn't mean to set that ere stack on fire," said 
 poor Sam in a sudden burst of confidence, forgetting 
 the danger there was in letting out such a secret. 
 
 " I am glad of that," said Bernard. " It would 
 have been a dreadful thing to have wilfully done so
 
 Sam Finds a Friend. 1 5 1 
 
 much harm to anybody. Do you know that it is a 
 very serious loss to the farmer ? " 
 
 " You won't tell on me, will yer ? " said Sam in 
 a hoarse, frightened whisper. 
 
 " No ; you may trust me. Are you very hungry ? " 
 Bernard asked, the half-starved look of the boy strik- 
 ing him forcibly. 
 "Ain't I just !" 
 
 " Will you come home with me and have a meal ? " 
 " Thank'ee. Which way are you going ? " 
 Even the thought of food would not have been 
 sufficient to tempt the lad near the encampment. 
 " I am going to the farm on the cliff." 
 " Right you are, then," said Sam, jumping up with 
 alacrity. 
 
 The two boys walked along side by side, looking a 
 strange contrast ; Sam with his long, lanky figure, 
 which had so appropriately supplied his nickname, 
 and Bernard with his straight, athletic frame. It was 
 little wonder that even Sam had detected the wide 
 difference between them. Bernard was a little puzzled 
 what to do with him, though he had given him such a 
 hearty invitation. What would his mother say to any 
 one so dirty being brought to the house ? And still 
 worse, what would Rogers say to such an intruder ? 
 Happily he saw his mother in the garden ; so, telling 
 Sam to wait a minute, he went towards her to tell 
 her of his companion. Mrs. Cameron had already
 
 152 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 caught sight of him, and in an instant had taken in 
 the boy's deplorable appearance. 
 
 " Who is that boy, Bernard ? " she asked. 
 
 "Why, mother, it is one of those gipsy fellows. 
 He is so utterly miserable and hungry that I could 
 not help telling him to come with me for a meal. 
 You don't mind, mother, do you ? " 
 
 " I would willingly give him a meal, but I hardly 
 know what your father would say to his being brought 
 to the house ; these wandering people are often sad 
 thieves." 
 
 " I believe he is very wicked, but he is so very, 
 very miserable. Don't you think we might be able 
 to help him to a different life ? He is only my age, 
 mother." 
 
 " Well, let us see about his having something to 
 eat first ; I dare say he is very hungry, as you think." 
 
 " Yes ; I believe he is starving. But even the hope 
 of food would not have tempted him to go round by 
 the encampment." 
 
 " Are his parents living ? " 
 
 " No ; he has no real father and mother," he says. 
 
 " Poor lad ! he has had nothing to help him to do 
 right, I expect." 
 
 " No ; anything but that ; and it was such a dread- 
 ful-looking man that was following him with a stick. 
 It was his distress that first attracted my notice." 
 
 Mrs. Cameron had soon ordered a good meal to be
 
 Sam Finds a Friend. 153 
 
 brought to the back-door, and there Sam sat and ate 
 it voraciously. 
 
 "What can we do with him, mother?" asked 
 Bernard. " I do not think he dare go back to the 
 encampment." 
 
 " It is difficult to know what to do," said Mrs. 
 Cameron. "But here comes your father; perhaps 
 he will be able to suggest something." 
 
 Dr. Cameron had soon heard all Sam's story, 
 with the exception of his confession of having set 
 fire to the stack, though unintentionally. Bernard 
 felt bound in honour not to let out his secret. 
 
 " Do you really want to help this lad, Bernard ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Yes, father, I do indeed. He is. just about my 
 own age, and somehow I cannot help feeling very 
 much for him. There is no telling what I might 
 have been without such a father and mother," he 
 added in a low voice. 
 
 " And God's grace, my boy ; we none of us can 
 tell what we might have been without that." 
 
 " No, /ather ; but Sam has had no one to tell him 
 about God." 
 
 " I think he has finished his supper now," said 
 Mrs. Cameron. "You had better go and find out a 
 little more about him, and whether he is really turned 
 out of the encampment, as Bernard seems to think." 
 Her words were addressed to the Doctor.
 
 154 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 " No, Bernard, you are the one to go. The lad 
 has evidently given you his confidence. Maybe he 
 would be frightened of me." 
 
 So Bernard went, with a good deal of diffidence on 
 his part, and feeling that he did not know what to 
 say. 
 
 " Had your supper, Sam ? " he asked as a beginning. 
 
 " Yes, sir, thank'ee," the boy said with a knowing 
 look, as much as to say " And wasn't it good ? " 
 
 " What do you think of doing now, Sam ? " 
 
 " Sleep under a hedge. It won't be the first time," 
 he said with a grin. 
 
 " Are you never going back to the encampment 
 again ? " 
 
 " No, never. He said as he didn't want never to 
 see me again, and I s'pose I'll be able to live some- 
 how." 
 
 "Would you be willing to sleep in that barn 
 yonder if my father would allow you ? It looks like 
 rain, and you would get drenched under a hedge." 
 
 " I shouldn't mind," said the boy. " But you 
 wouldn't tell on me, would yer ? " he added in a low 
 whisper. 
 
 "Now, look here, Sam," said Bernard; "just look 
 straight at me and see if you can trust me. I 
 wouldn't tell a lie for anything." 
 
 " Yes, I'll trust yer," said Sam, seeming to gain 
 confidence as he looked up into Bernard's honest face.
 
 Sam Finds a Friend. 155 
 
 " Do you know, Sam, I feel downright sorry for 
 you, and I would really like to help you to a better 
 and a happier life, if you will let me." 
 
 " Nobody ever cared anything about me before," 
 said poor Sam. 
 
 " But God cares." 
 
 " Not for me," said the poor outcast. " I tell you 
 nobody cares for me." 
 
 "I care for, you a great deal," said Bernard, with 
 real feeling. 
 
 " It's very strange," said Sam. " I don't see why 
 you should care a button about me." 
 
 " Shall I tell you ? " said Bernard, speaking with 
 a great effort. " Many years ago, God's only Son, 
 Jesus Christ, left His Home in Heaven to come and 
 live on this earth just as you and I do ; and then He 
 died upon the cross for us that's you and me, Sam 
 that we might have our sins forgiven and go to 
 Heaven when we die. I love Him for all He has 
 done for us, and I want you to know how He loves 
 you. That is why I care about you." 
 
 " I have heard something of that 'ere story before," 
 said Sam. " We were at a fair some months ago, 
 and there was a man preaching. He told us about 
 that." 
 
 " Have you never thought about it since ? " 
 
 " Yes, sometimes ; but it didn't seem to have 
 naught to do with such as me."
 
 156 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 "Yes, indeed it has. believe me, Sam. God loves 
 you, if nobody else does. But there is the bell ring- 
 ing for me to go in to supper. I will run and ask 
 my father if he will let you sleep in the barn to-night." 
 
 So off Bernard ran to make his request, and per- 
 suaded Dr. Cameron to come and see Sam for himself. 
 The Doctor spoke kindly to the boy, but he was 
 evidently so frightened of him that he wisely slipped 
 away and left the two boys together. Bernard was 
 not satisfied till he had found some clean straw, and 
 assured himself that Sam really intended to stay in 
 the barn for the night. Then, with a happy heart, 
 the ministering boy returned to the house and joined 
 the rest of the party at supper.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 BERNARD'S LETTER. 
 
 ATHER, what can I do with him?" asked 
 Bernard as he seated himself, 
 
 " I should like you to try and think for 
 yourself, Bernard," was Dr. Cameron's answer. " You 
 know, my boy, to whom to go to for wisdom. Con- 
 sult your best Counsellor to-night, and then we will 
 talk it over to-morrow." 
 
 Bernard did not say anything. He remembered 
 his empty purse, and the thought crossed his mind 
 that nothing could be done without money. But he 
 knew his father well, and felt that it was no use to 
 discuss the matter further that night When he was 
 alone in his own room, Sam's hungry, frightened face 
 seemed before him, and the hopeless tone of his voice 
 rang in his ears as he said, " I tell you nobody cares 
 for me." Then he thought of his father's words 
 " Consult your best Counsellor to-night." He felt 
 greatly in need of counsel. He had taken up Sam's 
 
 157
 
 158 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 cause ; he had told him that he would like to help him 
 to a better life, and yet he did not know how to do it. 
 
 So Bernard wisely told his Father in Heaven all 
 his difficulty, and how he wanted to help this poor 
 outcast lad. His prayer was short and definite, 
 couched in his boyish, simple words, but no heartfelt 
 prayer offered in the name of our Lord and Saviour 
 Jesus Christ ever yet failed to reach our Father's 
 throne. No plan came to Bernard's mind that night, 
 but there was a rest in having laid it before His 
 God, and in asking Him to direct and guide him. 
 So Bernard went to sleep, and slept soundly till the 
 morning. 
 
 He woke early, and his firs,t thoughts were of Sam. 
 He wondered if the boy would have run away or 
 whether he would really have trusted him. As he 
 hastily dressed he remembered having heard of a 
 "Home" in London where homeless boys were received. 
 Could he persuade Sam to go to such a place ? He 
 would be well cared for, and be enabled to make a 
 good start in life. He ran downstairs and made his 
 way eagerly to the barn. For one moment he thought 
 Sam was gone ; the next he saw that he was mistaken. 
 There was Sam, looking refreshed with the good meal 
 of the night before and the undisturbed rest ; looking 
 a little cleaner, too, for he had evidently been down 
 to the pond and had a wash. 
 
 " Here you are, Sam. That's right," said Bernard
 
 Bernard 's Letter. 159 
 
 gladly. " I expect you are just about ready for some 
 breakfast." 
 
 j " I bain't hungry yet, sir ; leastways not what yer 
 might call hungry. It ain't often as I've had such 
 a tuck-in as last night." 
 
 Bernard could hardly help laughing, the supper had 
 evidently left such a pleasant remembrance. 
 
 " Well, you shall have some breakfast presently, 
 and then you will promise to wait till I have seen 
 you. I can trust you, Sam ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I'll wait." 
 
 "Then I must be off; I see the others are wait- 
 ing for me to go down to bathe." 
 
 Bernard ran in for his towel, and soon overtook the 
 others at the bottom of the cliff. It was a glorious 
 morning. The rain that had threatened the night 
 before had ended with a sharp shower, which had 
 refreshed the earth and cooled the air. They were 
 all enthusiastic bathers, and Arthur had quickly caught 
 their ardour, and enjoyed it as much as the rest. The 
 Doctor and Bernard had not finished dressing quite so 
 quickly as the younger boys, and by the time they were 
 ready they had vanished from the shore. The Doctor 
 slipped his arm into his son's, and they walked slowly 
 up the cliff together. 
 
 "Well, my boy, did you consult your best Coun- 
 sellor last night ? " 
 
 " Yes, father."
 
 160 Old Christie 1 s Cabin. 
 
 " Has any plan come into your mind ? " 
 
 "Well, father, I remembered this morning that I had 
 heard of a ' Home ' in London for homeless boys, and it 
 struck me that if we could persuade Sam to go to such 
 a place, he might grow up into a good, honest fellow." 
 
 " Very good, Bernard ; there is such a ' Home,' and 
 if Sam can be persuaded to go, as you say, I think it 
 would be a splendid thing for him." 
 
 " But will it cost much, father ? The worst of it 
 is, I've spent all my money." 
 
 " There are many kind and helpful things that can 
 be done in this world, Bernard, without much money. 
 Money is undoubtedly a great power for good if used 
 rightly, but God has given us other things too to use 
 for Him our time, our influence, our position. These 
 are all things that we shall have to answer for." 
 
 Bernard walked on silently for a minute or two ; 
 then he said, "You will write to the Home about 
 Sam, will you not, father ? " 
 
 " No, Bernard, this is your affair ; I should like 
 you to write yourself; you are quite old enough." 
 
 " I thought you would have done it for me, father." 
 
 " No ; you have taken up Sam with your own free 
 will ; the boy has already put trust in you ; and I should 
 like you to carry it through as far as possible yourself. 
 You have asked God for counsel, my boy ; now trust 
 Him to help you still further." 
 
 By this time they had reached the house, and found
 
 Bernard's Letter. 161 
 
 breakfast waiting for them. When the party after- 
 wards dispersed, Bernard made his way again to the 
 barn, and found Sam looking out for him. 
 
 "Well, Sam, was the breakfast as good as the 
 supper ? " he asked laughingly. 
 
 " Yes, sir, it was jolly good," said Sam contentedly. 
 
 " Now, I want to talk to you, and see what can be 
 done for you in the future. You can't always live in 
 this barn, you know. I have heard of a ' Home ' in 
 London for boys, where they are taught many useful 
 things that will help them to earn an honest livelihood. 
 If I could get you in there, would you be willing to go?" 
 
 Sam nodded. 
 
 "It would be quite different to the roving life you 
 have been accustomed to, but you would be taught 
 there how to grow up good and honest. Some of the 
 boys from that ' Home ' are now doing well for them- 
 selves, and have good homes of their own." 
 
 Sam seemed listening intently. 
 
 "You are quite sure that Owen will not claim you, 
 and want you to return to the encampment ? " 
 
 " No, not he," said Sam. 
 
 "Well, then, you can still sleep in this barn till 
 something has been arranged, and my mother will see 
 that you have food." 
 
 Sam's eyes glistened appreciatively. Of all things, 
 food was most welcome to the half-starved boy. 
 
 So Bernard went back to the house determined 
 to write a letter to the superintendent of the " Home "
 
 i 62 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 at once. Like many other schoolboys, there was 
 nothing he disliked doing more than letter- writing ; 
 but it had to be done if Sam was to become an inmate 
 of the " Home," and the sooner it was done the better. 
 Bernard took up more than one sheet of paper before 
 he accomplished a letter that seemed to say all that was 
 necessary. He finished it off with a large " BERNARD 
 CAMERON," and a considerable flourish at the end, 
 which denoted his great satisfaction to feel it was 
 done. Then he was free to join the others. 
 
 " Have you written your letter, Bernard ? " asked 
 Dr. Cameron. 
 
 "Yes, father. I left it open to see if you think it 
 will do ; but please do not criticise it too closely." 
 
 " It will do very well, my boy," said the Doctor, 
 handing it back, " and may God grant you success." 
 
 It had been arranged that the Camerons should 
 join a party of friends from Stourcliffe that afternoon 
 for a picnic to some ruins of an old castle that stood 
 close to the sea, about three miles away ; so, after an 
 early dinner, there was a general packing up of provi- 
 sions. A light cart from the farm was to convey 
 them to the place of rendezvous. Mrs. Cameron, 
 with Ethel, Maude, and little Gladys, were to drive 
 in the donkey-carriage, while the boys went with the 
 Doctor in their much-loved boat. It was the Doctor's 
 birthday, and as it occurred at a season when they 
 were always away from town, it was looked upon as 
 a red-letter day by all the family. They all felt they
 
 Bernard's Letter. 163 
 
 must make the most of his company, for it was the 
 last day before he was to leave them for a short visit 
 to Switzerland, and Stourcliffe was never quite so 
 bright a place without the father's presence. 
 
 The ruins stood on the top of a cliff, in a com- 
 manding situation, that said much for the discretion 
 of the warriors of the olden time. The headland 
 stretched a considerable distance out to sea, so that on 
 two sides the old castle seemed surrounded by water. 
 The ascent was so steep, even on the easiest part, 
 that the elders of the party had to stop several times 
 before reaching the top. But the part the young 
 people liked best was the extreme point, which dropped 
 down into the sea in abrupt rocks. They had now 
 timed their visit during the spring-tides, and when high 
 water would be in the after-part of the day. With a 
 wind blowing off the sea the waves were wont to be 
 magnificent as they dashed against the rocky base of 
 the old castle. They now seated themselves in a spot 
 where they could watch the waves breaking and in- 
 deed, summer season as it was, they were very grand. 
 
 " This must be a strange place on a winter day," said 
 Mrs. Cameron, drawing her shawl round her a little 
 closer, for the wind blew keenly, in spite of the hot sun. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said the Doctor. " I expect there 
 are many days in winter when you would not be able 
 to keep your footing on this headland." 
 
 "Is the castle very old, Dr. Cameron?" asked Arthur.
 
 164 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 " Yes, very ; they say some of it dates back as 
 far as the eleventh century. As you have never been 
 here before, you will not have heard the old legend 
 connected with it." 
 
 " No ; do tell me," said Arthur, who delighted in 
 stories of the olden times. 
 
 " In one of the wars the castle stood a long siege, 
 and was strongly fortified on all sides except this one 
 towards the sea. The rock was so sharp and abrupt 
 that they considered this side invulnerable. Accord- 
 ingly they put no sentinels, no doubt reserving all 
 their forces for the weaker parts of the castle. In 
 some way the enemy discovered this, and one night a 
 small party, under shelter of the darkness, ventured 
 to the bottom of the cliff in a little boat. These men 
 were bold climbers. They determined to scale the 
 rock, cost what it would, and little by little, with 
 stealthy but sure steps, they climbed up in the early 
 morning. Those defending the castle were com- 
 pletely taken by surprise. Seeing two or three men, 
 they supposed many more were behind. A panic 
 ensued, and thus the castle fell." 
 
 " It was very hard for them," said Arthur, " after 
 they had held out so long." 
 
 "Yes, very hard. But you see how necessary it 
 is for a soldier to be watchful all round. I have 
 often thought, when I have heard that story, that 
 those besieged ones are very much like us who
 
 Bernard's Letter. 165 
 
 profess to be Christ's soldiers. We may be very 
 watchful, but maybe we do not watch all round, 
 and one day, when we least expect, our great enemy 
 surprises us. Our great Captain was thinking of 
 this, I think, when He said, ' Watch and pray, lest 
 ye enter into temptation.' " 
 
 " The waves are getting grander every minute, I 
 believe," said Maude presently. " See, is not this a 
 grand one rolling in ? " 
 
 It was indeed magnificent, bursting up in showers 
 of spray that looked almost like a rainbow in the 
 sunshine. 
 
 "It is no doubt very delightful sitting here," said 
 Leslie, " but I'm getting dreadfully hungry. Can't 
 you go and see if tea is ready, Maude ? " 
 
 " You are very lazy, Leslie. I think you might go 
 yourself, if you are so famished," said Maude. 
 
 " It's more your work to see after the tea, seeing 
 that you are a girl," said Leslie. 
 
 " Come, come, Leslie," said his father, " I think 
 you might be willing to save your sister such a run 
 as she must have to where the tea was to be laid. 
 Be courteous, my boy, to your sisters, and when you 
 grow into manhood you will know how to treat other 
 women with respect." 
 
 Leslie got up, though very ungraciously. When 
 he had gone a few steps he turned round to ask 
 where he should find the preparations for tea.
 
 1 66 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 " I told the servants to choose the most sheltered 
 place among the ruins that they could find," said Mrs. 
 Cameron. " I expect it will be in the old banqueting- 
 hall." 
 
 It was not long before Leslie could be seen in the 
 distance vigorously ringing the dinner-bell, which had 
 been brought on purpose to gather the party together, 
 and very soon they were all doing good justice to the 
 ample supply of tea, cake, and fruit that was laid 
 ready for them. 
 
 It was a merry party, and it was pleasant to look 
 round on so many happy young faces. As they 
 glanced up at the walls of the old banqueting-hall, 
 crumbling with age, they wondered if any meal in the 
 olden time had been more heartily enjoyed than this 
 one. But the air began to get chilly after a while, and 
 caused a general move, some of the party wending off 
 for a ramble in one direction, and some in another. 
 
 " What time are we to meet, father ? " said Ber- 
 nard as they were parting. 
 
 " Half-past seven ; not later, for we shall be some 
 time getting home, and the evenings are drawing in. 
 Where is Leslie ? Let him know the time," said Dr. 
 Cameron, looking round for his second son. 
 
 " I think he is gone on with Percy Simpson, but 
 we shall be sure to see him," said Bernard, and then 
 he set off with Hubert and Arthur, who were never 
 happier than when they could follow him.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 THE OLD CASTLE. 
 
 ,HEN half-past seven came, the various parties 
 were all seen making their way to the spot 
 where the cart and donkey-carriage stood 
 waiting. The cart was already packed with the 
 remnants of the feast, and the two servants who had 
 come to help were waiting to know if anything more 
 were wanted before starting homewards. 
 
 "Are we all here ? " asked the Doctor. 
 
 " All but Leslie and Percy. The Simpsons are 
 gone on, for Mr. Simpson was getting anxious lest 
 they should not be home before dark, as they have 
 farther to go. I said Percy could stay the night with 
 us," said Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 " They ought to be here," said the Doctor. " Oh ! 
 here is Bernard. Have you seen Leslie and Percy ? " 
 
 " No. I cannot think where they can have gone. 
 We looked for them everywhere, and shouted for 
 
 them too. Didn't we, Hubert ? " 
 
 167
 
 1 68 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 " Well, what is to be done ? " said the Doctor, 
 taking out his watch. "It will be getting late for 
 the boat. The evening has clouded over, and indeed 
 it looks much like a thunderstorm." 
 
 " I think, Allan, you had better go on with the 
 boys, and take Maude with you in Leslie's place. No 
 doubt he and Percy will not be long. Take this 
 warm shawl, Maudie ; you had better start at once." 
 
 Dr. Cameron looked a little anxious ; he scarcely 
 liked leaving his wife with two of the party missing. 
 Still, the evening looked stormy, and there would be 
 no moon to help them on the way. 
 
 " Leslie should have made a point of being back ; 
 his own sense might have told him that we ought 
 to be starting homewards by this time," said Dr. 
 Cameron. 
 
 " I dare say he and Percy will be here soon," said 
 Mrs. Cameron gently. " I am sure you had better 
 not wait for them." 
 
 So the Doctor, with the boys and Maude, set off 
 very reluctantly, looking back as far as they could 
 see, hoping to catch sight of the missing ones. Mrs. 
 Cameron and Ethel went back to the little carriage 
 to wait. A quarter of an hour passed, but no boys 
 appeared. Soon after the Doctor had left, flashes of 
 lightning were seen in the west. Gradually the storm 
 crept up, and every minute the lightning became more 
 vivid, though as yet no rain had fallen.
 
 The Old Castle. 1 69 
 
 " What can we do, mother ? " said Ethel. " I fear 
 we are going to have a very heavy storm. I wish 
 the boys would come." 
 
 " Yes ; it is very thoughtless of Leslie," said 
 Mrs. Cameron gravely. 
 
 " I expect Percy has tempted him to go too far, 
 and they have forgotten how long it would take to 
 get back again," said Ethel, who always tried to 
 shelter Leslie from blame if she could. 
 
 " Yes ; but it is time Leslie began to think for 
 himself. I wish he knew how to take a firmer stand 
 for the right. I am often afraid it will lead our poor 
 Leslie into trouble." 
 
 " He is so light-hearted, mother ; he will think of 
 these things when he gets a little older." 
 
 " Poor, dear Leslie ! it is his light-hearted, free-and- 
 easy ways that make him such a general favourite. 
 He will never know how to make a firm stand against 
 wrong until he has learned to look to God for the 
 strength he needs." 
 
 The thunder was getting nearer now, and large 
 spots of rain began to fall. Mrs. Cameron looked 
 round to see if any shelter was to be seen anywhere, 
 but nothing but the old ruined castle was within 
 reach, and that offered but a dangerous refuge. 
 At the first appearance of the storm she had sent 
 on the servants in the light cart with little Gladys, 
 so that she and Ethel were quite alone. They felt
 
 1 70 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 they could not leave the spot, as at any moment the 
 two boys might come, and Mrs. Cameron would not 
 start home without them. 
 
 In the meantime the boys were much farther away 
 than Mrs. Cameron thought. Percy had told Leslie 
 of a natural cave some distance along the shore, and 
 pointing to it, assured him that it could not be very 
 far away. But they had not calculated upon the path 
 they must take to reach it. Once on the shore, 
 instead of smooth sand were large boulders which 
 must be climbed over, and this took treble the time 
 they had expected. Once Leslie made a feeble at- 
 tempt to return, but he was as anxious as Percy to 
 see the cave, and he soon gave way to his own incli- 
 nations and Percy's assertions that they must be very 
 near by this time. 
 
 They had so completely forgotten how the time 
 had slipped away, that just as they at last reached 
 the cave they heard the first peal of thunder in the 
 distance. 
 
 " I say, Percy, don't you think it's getting uncom- 
 monly dark ? " said Leslie. " And it's thundering. 
 Didn't you hear it ? " 
 
 "Yes. I wish we hadn't all those old rocks to 
 climb over to get back again. I believe my legs 
 will be covered with bruises to-morrow." 
 
 " I think we had better make a start," said Leslie, 
 forgetting all his desire to see the cave. " Come on,
 
 The Old Castle. 1 7 1 
 
 Percy, I'm afraid it's getting dreadfully late. I hope 
 we shan't keep the others waiting." 
 
 So off they started, but the climbing was harder 
 work now they had reached the point of interest, 
 and, besides, the distance seemed more than double. 
 Before they were half-way to a smoother path the 
 lightning was lighting up the country round and rain 
 was falling heavily. This made the rocks slippery, 
 and in their anxiety to get on fast they had many 
 falls. The rain was soon coming down in torrents, 
 and what with the glare of the continual lightning 
 and the rain in their faces, they had indeed hard 
 work before them. Percy was the first to give in. 
 
 " I tell you I can't go another step," he said 
 pettishly. 
 
 " Nonsense, Percy," said Leslie angrily ; " it's no 
 use to give in like this ; we must get on. Fancy 
 what a way they will all be in about us:" 
 
 " I don't care ; I wish I had never come. I'll 
 never go and see another cave as long as I live." 
 
 Both the boys certainly looked very pitiable 
 objects as they crouched down, trying to shelter 
 themselves from the violence of the storm. Leslie 
 was really unhappy at the thought of the anxiety he 
 must be giving through his absence. Careless as his 
 nature usually was, still he had a good warm heart at 
 the bottom. Percy, on the other hand, was essen- 
 tially selfish, and simply pitied himself for his miser-
 
 172 Old Christie s Cabin, 
 
 able condition. He was also, like many selfish people, 
 very cowardly, and as the lightning played around 
 them he quailed again. 
 
 It was indeed an awful storm, and many a year 
 had passed since the old castle had witnessed such 
 a magnificent spectacle, but Percy had no eyes to 
 see the grandeur of it. Leslie was thinking of his 
 mother, and he was bitterly condemning himself for 
 not having been firmer in his desire to return home 
 much earlier in the evening. Many of his mother's 
 words came back to him as he crouched down by 
 Percy's side. Everything he had ever done to grieve 
 her seemed to pass before him, and he could not bear 
 to think how often he had made her sorrowful. 
 
 " If only you loved your God as you love your 
 mother," she had said to him one day, when he had 
 sought her in a fit of penitence. Now God seemed 
 speaking to him as He had never spoken to him before. 
 For the first time he felt as if he wanted God's love. 
 He seemed, as it were, standing before Him face to 
 face, and yet he knew that he was not ready to appear 
 before Him. He had been taught of His Saviour's 
 love since he had been able to understand anything, 
 but it had never seemed to touch him. He had never 
 felt he needed Him till now. 
 
 How long the boys stayed there they did not know. 
 Percy was too frightened to know about anything. 
 Still the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled
 
 The Old Castle. \ 73 
 
 and resounded among the cliffs, while the night grew 
 darker. After what seemed to them hours the rain 
 gradually lessened, and the thunder died away in the 
 distance, till Leslie started up, fancying he heard his 
 own name called. Of course, it could only be fancy ; 
 no living being could be near; and, besides, who should 
 know his name ? He listened intently, and then again 
 came the call, " Leslie, Leslie ! It was unmistakable 
 this time, and the voice was unmistakable, too, for it 
 was his father's. 
 
 " Father, father ! " cried Leslie as loud as he could. 
 
 He was evidently heard, for the answer came back 
 " Where are you ? " 
 
 " Down on the shore among the rocks." 
 
 Percy had sunk into a sort of stupor, partly with 
 fright and partly from sheer exhaustion. Leslie 
 roused him with difficulty, and at last made him 
 understand that Dr. Cameron was near, and was 
 calling to them. With a desperate effort Percy roused 
 himself, and with Leslie's help managed to scramble 
 over the few remaining rocks before they reached the 
 path that led up the cliff. At the bottom Dr. Cameron 
 met them, with a man from the farm, who had come 
 to join in the search. Hours had passed since the 
 Doctor had left Mrs. Cameron to wait for Leslie's 
 coming. At last the violence of the storm had obliged 
 her to start homewards, and when they had nearly 
 reached the farm she had met the Doctor returning in
 
 174 Old Christie's Cabin . 
 
 the light cart, as he had felt anxious when he found 
 they had not reached home before him. 
 
 Leslie felt more grieved than ever for his thought- 
 less conduct when he saw his father's anxious face, 
 and knew that he must be wet through. 
 
 " I am very sorry, father," Leslie tried to say. 
 
 " Thank God you are safe," was the Doctor's reply, 
 as he took his boy's arm and helped him up the gully. 
 
 Never again would Leslie forget that night, or 
 the sound of his father's voice calling him out of the 
 darkness. It seemed to remind him of the beautiful 
 story of the lost sheep. It was only a Father's love, 
 who could not be satisfied until He found it. Leslie 
 felt that he had been sought and found by his Heavenly 
 Father as well as his earthly, and there was joy that 
 night in heaven over another sinner that had repented. 
 
 Very little was said the next morning about the 
 storm of the night before. No one seemed any the 
 worse for the drenching except Percy, who appeared 
 to have taken cold. Leslie looked wistfully at his 
 mother's pale face from time to time, and it touched 
 the boy more than any words of blame would have 
 done. The Doctor was to leave them in the afternoon 
 for the Continent, and everybody vied with the other 
 in little attentions that might save the traveller trouble 
 or add in any way to his comfort.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A BATTLE-R'OYAL. 
 
 JWO or three days passed before Bernard re- 
 ceived an answer to his letter. In the mean- 
 time Sam had been content to stay on at the 
 farm, and had willingly put his hand to some weeding 
 in the garden. Indeed, the boy showed such a feel- 
 ing of gratitude to Bernard for his protection, that he 
 seemed anxious to do anything for him. One thing 
 had set the boy more at rest, and that was the news 
 that the whole gipsy encampment had disappeared from 
 the neighbourhood, and he had no longer the constant 
 fear of Owen before him. As Sam still seemed 
 perfectly willing to go to the " Home," there was no 
 difficulty in filling up the necessary form, and before 
 the time came for the Camerons to return to town 
 all the arrangements were made for his reception. 
 
 During this time Sam had already learnt much that 
 he did not know before. Deplorably ignorant as the 
 
 boy was, he showed great quickness in learning, and 
 
 175
 
 176 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 his devotion to Bernard was very touching. Maude 
 also took a great interest in the poor waif. From 
 the early part of the visit she had begun reading some 
 of the Bible stories each day to Birdie and Milly, and 
 now she allowed Sam to come and sit near, so that 
 he might hear them too. It was wonderful to see 
 how these untaught children drank in the stories of 
 the Saviour's love, and to the blind child especially 
 they were laying in a precious store to think over in 
 the less happy winter days when she would be back 
 again in the London lodging-house. 
 
 And so the pleasant holiday-time passed on all too 
 quickly, and the day was near at hand when the 
 children must go back to work and duty. A few 
 rainy days showed how wearisome a holiday life 
 would be if it went on for ever. The boys had 
 nothing to do now they were deprived of their out- 
 door amusements, and taxed the ever-patient Mrs. 
 Cameron not a little to find them employment. But 
 happily, before the time for going home came, the 
 weather had brightened up again. The great packing- 
 up day came at last, and every one felt sorry to say 
 good-bye to Stourcliffe. No one, perhaps, felt it so 
 much as Birdie, for, blind as she was, she had powers 
 of intense enjoyment. 
 
 While the young people had been spending such 
 a pleasant time at Stourcliffe, Mary Somers had been 
 settling down to hard work in the old cabin by
 
 lilllllii 1 ! ' -' -' 
 
 -mmm w,\ . , , \ 
 
 " She took the unfortunate offender by the collar." Page 184. 
 
 M
 
 A Battle- Royal. 179 
 
 the river-side. Miss Neville, true to her word, had 
 supplied her with needlework, which was paid for 
 at a good and reasonable price ; but she had done 
 something more. She had been specially taken with 
 Mary's unobtrusive ways and the quiet dignity with 
 which she bore her sorrow. She determined to do 
 something for her boy if possible, and so relieve her 
 of another care. Among the circle in which Miss 
 Neville worked a plan had been started in which 
 children took a large share. It was called "The 
 Ministering Children's League," and from a small 
 beginning it had now grown almost beyond the hopes 
 of the founders. Now there existed a " Home " for 
 orphan-boys, which was supported by the children 
 of the League, and in this Home she hoped Harry 
 would find a place. 
 
 Miss Neville was a person of wonderful energy. 
 With her a thing once thought of was soon accom- 
 plished, so she lost no time in securing a speedy 
 reception for the widow's son. It was a great wrench 
 to Mary to part with him, for the child continually 
 reminded her of his father ; but she knew that he 
 would be well cared for, and she would be able to 
 see better after the younger ones. Old Christie had 
 wonderfully revived since she had come to live with 
 him, and once again he felt able to see after his boats 
 and even take parties out for a row. The lovely 
 summer evenings had tempted many from the hot
 
 1 80 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 city to the water-side, and Christie had been able to 
 reap quite a small harvest, which was specially accept- 
 able to the little family. The day after the Camerons 
 returned home, Bernard, accompanied as usual by 
 Hubert and Arthur, paid old Christie a visit. They 
 found him seated in his old place at the cabin-door, 
 but looking wonderfully better than when they saw 
 him last. He looked up brightly as he saw them 
 coming. 
 
 " I am right glad to see you all again," he said, 
 looking at their sunburnt faces ; " and yer do look 
 well, and no mistake. Why, Master Arthur there, 
 even, has some colour in his pale cheeks at last." 
 
 " And how have you been, Christie ? " asked 
 Bernard. 
 
 " Oh ! I'm first rate, sir, thank'ee. The good Lord 
 has been showering me with blessings ; I don't know 
 how to thank and praise Him enough. It seemed 
 as if the beginning of it all was when He put it into 
 the hearts of you young people to come and brighten 
 up the old place, and it's been getting sunnier and 
 sunnier ever since." 
 
 " It is very good of you to say so, Christie," said 
 Bernard. " I think we had more pleasure in doing it 
 than you could have in having it done." 
 
 " It may be so ; I wouldn't be saying it wasn't, 
 for our Lord Himself said, ' It is more blessed to 
 give than to receive,' and He knows better nor any-
 
 A Battle-Royal. 181 
 
 body. And now I suppose you young gentlemen are 
 going back to school soon, after your nice holiday." 
 
 "Yes," said Arthur, with a wry face, "that's the 
 worst of it ; we've got to go back to those dry old 
 books. I do hate them ! " 
 
 " I wouldn't go for hating them any more, then," 
 said Christie. 
 
 " Oh ! you would, Christie, if you only knew," 
 said Hubert, joining in. 
 
 " Not if you knew as much as I do, sir. But we 
 can't put old heads on young shoulders. I'll tell yer 
 what I think will help you even when the lessons 
 are hard." 
 
 " What's that ? " asked Arthur. 
 
 " Why, just think as who sets yer the lessons ; 
 and when yer remembers it's not the schoolmaster, 
 but Someone far above him, even your Father in 
 Heaven, I don't think you'll want to hate the les- 
 sons any more. I don't think but what you young 
 gentlemen must wish to please Him, or you'd never 
 have taken such trouble for an old man like me. 
 And yer see, my dears, we want to please Him in 
 everything. If we love Him we want to keep His 
 commandments, and I'm thinking that one of His 
 commandments to you is, Do your lessons well." 
 
 " How queerly you put it, Christie ! I never 
 thought of God having anything to do with lessons." 
 
 " Didn't you, my dear ? Well, I'm thinking as He
 
 1 82 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 plans it all for us, and some days He gives us easy 
 lessons, and some days hard ones ; but when we love 
 Him it's nice to think as He sets them all, whatever 
 they are." 
 
 " And how are you, Mary ? " asked Bernard as she 
 came into the kitchen with her baby on her arm. 
 
 " Nicely, sir, thank you. I suppose you've heard 
 that Harry's gone away." 
 
 " Yes. Is he getting on happily ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir, thank you; and it's a great comfort to 
 know he's well cared for. You see, I couldn't look 
 after him much, for I must sit to my work." 
 
 " Did you young gentlemen want the boat this 
 afternoon ? " asked Christie. 
 
 " Yes, Christie, that we do," said Bernard heartily. 
 "I shall not have another chance, perhaps, till next sum- 
 mer, for I shall have to work much harder next term." 
 
 " All right, sir ; come along. You see I'm able to 
 get about fine now. I thought my working days were 
 over before Mary came, but she's put fresh life into 
 the poor old man." 
 
 So the boat was pushed down, and Christie took 
 his place as of old, looking as pleased as the boys to 
 be able to help once more in the rowing. 
 
 Old Mr. Ferrers had sadly missed his little com- 
 forter during all his weeks of absence. Nobody 
 guessed how the heart of the taciturn old gentleman 
 had gone out to his little grandson. The child's
 
 A Battle- Royal. 183 
 
 simple words had more than once touched his better 
 feelings as nothing had touched them for many a year, 
 and nobody guessed how he welcomed the little figure 
 to his library again. It was a very happy arrange- 
 ment that Mrs. Cameron had suggested for Arthur 
 to join Hubert in his studies. The boy needed the 
 young life about him, and he and Hubert were fast 
 friends. Though Markham really loved the boy, still 
 she had never been able to get used to his childish 
 ways, and somehow or other poor Arthur was con- 
 stantly getting into trouble with her. 
 
 There was nothing that old Mr. Ferrers would 
 not get for the boy if he fancied it would give him 
 pleasure, and in this way he ran a great risk of being 
 spoilt. Markham was as determined, on the other 
 side, that he should not be spoilt if she could help it. 
 Among the many pets with which Arthur had been 
 supplied by his grandfather was one that he loved 
 more than all the rest. This was a young fox terrier. 
 It had been well trained before it came into Arthur's 
 possession ; but dogs were Markham's particular aver- 
 sion, and to have such an animal actually in the house, 
 and in Arthur's bedroom, was more than she felt she 
 could stand. It ended in a battle-royal. 
 
 Rover had been an inmate of Cannon Lodge about 
 a fortnight when it happened. Arthur had been to 
 The Chestnuts as usual for his morning lessons, and 
 the dog, missing his master, had at last gone up to
 
 184 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 his room, and finding the door open, had decided 
 to console himself by lying down to sleep on his 
 master's bed. His sleep was not so sound but that 
 he heard the first sound of Arthur's footstep. With 
 a bound he was off the bed and downstairs to meet 
 him. But Rover did not know how he had startled 
 Markham just as she entered the room ; neither did 
 he know that he had left the impression of his dirty 
 damp paws upon the clean counterpane. This was 
 more than Markham's feelings could stand. Down 
 she went to the hall where the unconscious Rover 
 was happily frisking round his master. She took the 
 unfortunate offender by the collar and began dragging 
 him upstairs again, intending to teach him in no 
 gentle manner that this must be the last time that 
 he was ever to be guilty of such misdemeanour. 
 But Arthur could not see his pet treated in such 
 rough fashion, and rushed after Markham, calling to 
 her to let the dog go instantly. The boy's passion 
 rose higher every minute, and finding that Markham 
 did not desist, he began thumping her with all his 
 little strength. Now Markham, having grown more 
 angry, threw the dog from her and seized Arthur, 
 holding him as tight as she had before held Rover. 
 It was now Rover's turn to do battle and fight for 
 his master, as he had fought for him, and he made a 
 dash at Markham's arm. 
 
 Old Mr. Ferrers had been roused from the quiet of
 
 A Battle- Royal. 185 
 
 his library by the unusual noise, and now appeared 
 upon the stairs. 
 
 " Arthur, what is this ? " he said sternly ; and then 
 turning to Markham, he added, " What are you doing 
 with the boy ? " 
 
 " You should ask what he is doing with me," said 
 Markham sulkily. " But of course it would not matter 
 about me ; you're spoiling the boy." 
 
 " You are quite forgetting to whom you are speak- 
 ing, Markham," said Mr. Ferrers. "Arthur, go to 
 your room. When you are calmer I will speak to 
 you." 
 
 The boy's face still showed traces of his ex- 
 citement, but without a word he went slowly up- 
 stairs to his room. Markham, greatly offended, was 
 turning towards the kitchen, when Mr. Ferrers called 
 her. 
 
 " If you can command yourself and speak quietly, 
 Markham, I should like to know what has caused this 
 trouble with Master Arthur. The scene was most 
 unseemly on both sides, but we must remember he is 
 only a child." 
 
 " It's all that nasty, horrid dog," said Markham 
 sullenly. 
 
 " What has he done now that is so dreadful ? " 
 
 " He goes everywhere with his dirty feet ; he ought 
 not to come into a decent house." 
 
 " If I do not object to the dog coming into the
 
 1 86 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 house, I do not think you need trouble about it. I 
 like Master Arthur to have the dog about him." 
 
 " Oh, well ! if you do not mind the dog lying on 
 the beds and dirtying clean counterpanes, I suppose 
 I must not complain, but I like to see the house 
 clean and respectable." 
 
 " But I do not now see what you were holding 
 Master Arthur so tightly for." 
 
 Here Markham coloured deeply. She must confess 
 that she was dragging the dog upstairs, and Arthur 
 had interfered to defend his favourite, and that then 
 she had turned upon him. Markham was a woman of 
 great truthfulness ; whatever her faults were, telling 
 lies was not one of them. 
 
 " I see," said Mr. Ferrers, smiling slightly. " The 
 boy was doing battle for his pet, but I fear in doing 
 so he lost his temper. For that I am sorry, Markham ; 
 and if my grandson is the gentleman I take him to 
 be, I hope he will apologise for his conduct. But I 
 wish it to be thoroughly understood that the dog 
 is to be allowed free entrance into Master Arthur's 
 room." 
 
 Mr. Ferrers had spoken in the stately manner 
 which belonged to him, and having said what he 
 wished, he dismissed the subject and retired once 
 more to the privacy of his library, giving Markham 
 no opportunity for discussing it further.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 OLD MARKHAM. 
 
 RTHUR went up to his room, and throwing 
 himself on his bed, sobbed as if his heart 
 would break. Perhaps he had never missed 
 his mother more than now ; certainly he had never 
 needed her more, and the poor child cried on and 
 on piteously. The first thing he was conscious of 
 was a cold wet nose pushing against him, and Rover 
 covering his face with his dog-kisses. He had left 
 his door ajar, and after Rover had recovered from 
 the fright of the skirmish he had made his way to 
 his master's room once more, being quite ignorant of 
 the mischief he had done to the clean counterpane. 
 
 " She is a horrid old thing, isn't she, Rover ? " 
 he said, patting his head lovingly ; " and we don't 
 love her one bit, do we ? " 
 
 But however horrid Markham seemed to Arthur, 
 she loved the boy dearly in the midst of all her 
 strange way of showing it. When it was close 
 
 187
 
 1 88 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 upon the child's dinner-time she felt so unhappy about 
 him that she went up to his room and pushed open 
 the door as quietly as Rover had done. Peeping 
 in, she caught sight of Arthur stretched upon the 
 bed fast asleep, with the dog curled up close beside 
 him. His face still looked hot and flushed, and the 
 traces of tears were very visible. Rover glanced up 
 in a moment and growled at the intruder, so Mark- 
 ham deemed it wisest to beat a retreat. 
 
 " Where is Master Arthur ? " asked Mr. Ferrers as 
 he seated himself, having almost forgotten the little 
 episode on the stairs. 
 
 " He is in his room, sir," said the servant in waiting. 
 
 " Ah ! yes, I remember. Tell him that I wish 
 him to come down to dinner." 
 
 As the servant was on her way she met Markham, 
 who told her the boy was fast asleep, so with this 
 she returned again to the dining-room. 
 
 " Then let the boy sleep on," said Mr. Ferrers. 
 
 And a very long sleep Arthur had. At first he 
 had shed angry, passionate tears, but after a while 
 they were tears of utter loneliness and distress. His 
 tender little heart had felt deeply for his dog's wrongs, 
 and now from sheer weariness he had fallen asleep. 
 
 The time for afternoon lessons at The Chestnuts 
 had come and passed, but no Arthur appeared. As 
 he was so regular, Mrs. Cameron felt a little uneasy, 
 fearing the boy was ill, so after a time she put on her
 
 Old Markham. 189 
 
 bonnet and went herself to inquire for the runaway. 
 She was taken at once to the library, and there from 
 Mr. Ferrers' lips she heard the whole story. 
 , " Poor little boy ! " she said, her motherly heart 
 understanding how matters stood, " anything he loves, 
 he loves very dearly. I wonder if I may go up to 
 his room and see if he is awake now ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; if you would I should be very 
 grateful," said Mr. Ferrers, looking a little troubled. 
 " I will ring the bell for one of the servants to take 
 you upstairs." 
 
 " No, please don't ; I know my way quite well, and 
 should prefer to go alone." 
 
 So Mr. Ferrers contented himself with opening the 
 door for her in his courtly fashion, and Mrs. Cameron 
 went upstairs at once to Arthur's room. She opened 
 the door gently, and there lay the curly-headed boy, 
 with his dog close beside him, just as Markham had 
 left him. Rover looked up and wagged his tail 
 contentedly, for Mrs. Cameron was a good friend of 
 his. She sat down beside the sleeping boy, and deter- 
 mined to wait a little to see if he awoke. Close by, 
 on the mantelpiece, stood a likeness of his sweet young 
 mother, and Mrs. Cameron remembered her own boys, 
 and how much they needed her in all their joys and 
 sorrows. After she had sat there some time Arthur 
 opened his eyes ; he was still but half awake. 
 
 " Is that you, mother ? " he said sleepily.
 
 190 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 . Mrs. Cameron put her cool hand upon his head and 
 gently stroked his hair. Presently he looked straight 
 at her. 
 
 " I thought it was my own little mother," he said. 
 " I thought she had come back to me." 
 
 " I wish she could, dear boy ; you want her very 
 much, don't you ? But you must try and talk to me 
 just as my Hubert does." 
 
 " Mother was always so sorry for me when I'd 
 been angry, but you would think me very wicked, 
 Mrs. Cameron ; I'm sure you would." 
 
 " I should be very sorry, dear. I wonder if you 
 could tell me all about it ? " 
 
 Arthur could not resist the kind, motherly voice, and 
 half sitting up, he began pouring out his story into 
 her sympathising ear. And in the telling of it he did 
 not try to shield himself;, he fully acknowledged being 
 very angry, and even that he had gone so far as to 
 thump poor old Markham. 
 
 Mrs. Cameron privately felt that Markham had set 
 to work quite in the wrong way, and had provoked 
 Arthur at a very tender point. But the anger was 
 wrong, any way. 
 
 " It was hard for you to see Rover being dragged 
 upstairs so ignominiously, but would it not have been 
 better to ask Markham what was the matter ? I think 
 she would have listened if you had asked her to leave 
 him alone."
 
 Old Markham. 1 9 1 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Cameron, I am quite sure she wouldn't. 
 She hates Rover ; I am sure she does ; and Rover and 
 I hate her. She is a horrid, cross old thing." 
 
 " Hush, hush ! Arthur, don't say that ; you will be 
 so sorry. Never forget, dear boy, that words once 
 said cannot be unsaid. Listen ' If a man say, I 
 love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar; for he 
 that loveth not his brother, whom he hath seen, how 
 can he love God, whom he hath not seen ? ' ' 
 
 " But I can't love Markham." 
 
 " God will help you to love her, if you ask Him. 
 Let us think of our Lord's Prayer for a minute. 
 Does it not say ' Forgive us our trespasses, as we 
 forgive them that trespass against us ? ' You must 
 forgive Markham, really and truly, before you can ask 
 God to forgive you for being so angry to-day." 
 
 Arthur was listening intently, his hand resting on 
 Rover's head. 
 
 " You think I must forgive Markham ? " he said 
 slowly. 
 
 " If you are one of Christ's little soldiers, and wish 
 to follow in His footsteps, you must forgive her. I am 
 going downstairs for a few minutes. While I am gone 
 think it over, and ask God to help you to forgive her 
 right from the bottom of your heart. God does not 
 care for you to say it without you feel it. It is hard, 
 very hard, dear boy, but He will make it easy if you 
 ask Him."
 
 1 92 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 So Mrs. Cameron went downstairs to the library 
 to tell Mr. Ferrers that Arthur was awake, and to ask 
 if she might take some dinner up to him. Mr. Ferrers 
 very willingly rang the bell, and before long a little 
 tray was brought, which Mrs. Cameron volunteered 
 to take upstairs herself. She found Arthur with a 
 brighter face. 
 
 " I think I can forgive Markham now," he said. 
 
 " I am so glad ; I am sure you will be much 
 happier. Did you ever hear the words, ' Let not the 
 sun go down upon your wrath ' ? " 
 
 " No ; the sun has not gone down yet, has it ? " 
 he said, looking out on the garden, where it was still 
 shining brilliantly. 
 
 " No, not yet. Have you asked God to forgive 
 you ? " 
 
 "Yes. I am sure I was just as horrid as poor 
 Markham." 
 
 " You will tell her how sorry you are for having 
 treated her so ? " 
 
 " Must I really ? " he said, colouring deeply. 
 
 " Yes, if you mean it ; God will help you to do 
 that too." 
 
 Arthur did not say anything. There are few harder 
 things to a proud nature than to acknowledge our- 
 selves in the wrong. So he ate his dinner silently. 
 
 " Well, how is it to be ? " said Mrs. Cameron, 
 when he had finished.
 
 Old Markham. 193 
 
 " I will try." But Mrs. Cameron could see that it 
 would be a great effort. 
 
 Just as they were leaving the room she said, " God 
 has helped you to do two things to-day, Arthur. You 
 see what a Friend and what a Saviour He is ; will 
 you ask Him to help you to overcome your hot 
 temper too ? You remember His own words, don't 
 you ? ' Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit 
 the earth.' " 
 
 So downstairs they went, and just at the dining- 
 room door whom should they meet but Markham her- 
 self ? With a crimson face, but with a happy look in 
 his eyes, Arthur went up to her and held out his hand. 
 
 " I am very sorry, Markham, for being so rude," 
 he said. 
 
 " It's all right, Master Arthur," she said coolly. 
 " I'm glad you're sorry for it." 
 
 Mrs. Cameron felt for the boy, and bidding him go 
 to his grandfather, she lingered a minute with Markham. 
 
 " I hope he is sorry, and won't do the like again," 
 said Markham. " But there, his grandfather spoils 
 him, that he does." 
 
 "We are all a long way off being perfect, Markham, 
 and I think Master Arthur cannot be much spoilt to 
 beg your pardon so bravely. Sometimes we older 
 ones find it very hard to acknowledge ourselves in 
 the wrong." 
 
 " Well, you see, Ma'am," said Markham more gently, 
 
 N
 
 194 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 "he's that fond of that dog that he will have him 
 everywhere with him." 
 
 " And is not that very natural ? You must not for- 
 get the poor child is fatherless and motherless, and the 
 dog's devotion is very precious to him. I would try 
 and not be worried about the dirty footmarks, as the 
 dog is such a pleasure to him." 
 
 " I won't take no more notice," said Markham. " His 
 grandfather said as he hoped he would apologise for 
 his rudeness, but I didn't think he would." 
 
 " He thought about our Lord's words, Markham, the 
 words we so often say perhaps without thinking of 
 them ' Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them 
 that trespass against us.' I wonder if you have ever 
 asked God to forgive you for Christ's sake ? " 
 
 The tears were running down old Markham's cheeks 
 by this time, and Mrs. Cameron, feeling she must join 
 Mr. Ferrers, said simply 
 
 " If you have never asked Him before, Markham, 
 do ask Him to-day. You and I cannot do without 
 a Saviour."
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 A MINISTERING CHILD. 
 
 was with a good many heartaches that Birdie 
 had gone back to her London home. Happily, 
 in one sense, she could not see the discom- 
 forts around her, that stood out in sad contrast to 
 the pleasant life at Stourcliffe. Her usually con- 
 tented spirit helped her to settle down once more in 
 her dull niche in London life. But Birdie had got 
 something more than an increased stock of health by 
 her stay at the farm. Maude had been quietly water- 
 ing the seed that Harry had sown in his simple, boyish 
 way, and the loving Friend that he had told her of 
 was now a very real Friend to the blind child. Life's 
 ways might be rough, but never again could they be 
 quite so cheerless, for Birdie knew now that the pro- 
 mise, " I will never leave thee, never forsake thee," 
 was for her. 
 
 This great love made the child more patient in her 
 home. Merry and joyous as she was by nature, still 
 
 195
 
 196 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 there had been times when she had tried her poor 
 worn mother with her petulance ; now her great desire 
 was that her mother should have a share in this 
 great love which filled her heart the long day through. 
 But she found it very difficult to talk to her mother 
 about it. The poor woman's heart was hard with 
 many years of trouble, and it was very difficult for 
 the long-closed door to open and let in the Saviour's 
 love. With Birdie it had seemed so real, so true, 
 that her young love had gone out to Him with 
 warmth and tenderness. 
 
 " Mother," she said one night, " are you so very 
 sad ? You sigh so often." 
 
 " I've not much to make me glad," she said bitterly. 
 
 " I think there must be always something left when 
 Jesus loves us," said Birdie. 
 
 Her mother was silent. What could she say in 
 response. And yet she would not have taken the love 
 from her child for anything. In another minute her 
 father had come in. 
 
 " What have yer got for supper ? " he asked 
 roughly. "I'm dead beat." 
 
 " I will go and get something, Jim," his wife said 
 in a half-frightened voice. 
 
 " Yes, do ; and be quick about it." 
 
 Again Birdie heard the long-drawn sigh, and her 
 young heart saddened at the sound. Her mother 
 quietly put on her bonnet and went to do his bidding.
 
 A Ministering Child. 197 
 
 As her footsteps died away upon the stairs Birdie 
 crept up to her fathers side. He had taken up a 
 newspaper, and the gentle touch of his child's hand 
 startled him. 
 
 " Father," she said, " I do wish mother was not so 
 sad. She so often sighs now." 
 
 Somehow a vision of his wife came before him at 
 that moment as he remembered her on their wedding 
 morning. There had been no sighs then. The face 
 was neither pale nor worn, and unasked the ques- 
 tion rose, " What has made this change ? " But he 
 said nothing. 
 
 Birdie, finding that she was not repulsed, ventured 
 a little nearer. Hard man as he was, he could not 
 help being touched by the pleading child-face raised 
 so pitifully to his. 
 
 " Father," she said, " I wish you and mother loved 
 God. He would make you happy." 
 
 God what was God to Birdie's father ? And yet 
 long years ago he had had a mother who had bidden 
 him seek God as his best Friend, as his child was 
 doing now. 
 
 " I'm tired, Birdie," he said ; " leave me alone." 
 
 But the words were said more gently than usual, 
 and the child felt less afraid of her father than for 
 many a day. He sat and read his newspaper, or 
 seemed to read it, but Birdie's words had touched a 
 chord in the hard man's heart which he could not
 
 198 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 silence. Very soon his wife returned. She glanced 
 at him with a keen, anxious look, but his very silence 
 was a relief. She laid the supper on the table, and 
 when he presently went out without an angry word 
 she looked at him wonderingly. She would have 
 wondered still more could she have followed him. 
 He passed along the busy street, past the brilliantly- 
 lighted public-house at the corner, which generally was 
 so attractive to him. On he went under the starlight 
 till he reached the Park, which had been such a plea- 
 sure to Birdie. He could not understand himself; 
 and when at last he turned, it was to go to his home 
 as silent as he left it. 
 
 It was a day or two later that Birdie was to pay 
 her longed-for visit to Christie's cabin. The child had 
 never forgotten her old playmates, or Mary's promise 
 that she should come to them in their new home. It 
 was a lovely October day; the sun was shining brightly 
 on the river as Birdie and her mother took their places 
 on the steamer. Christie's cabin was about half-a-mile 
 from the landing-stage, and following the streets that 
 ran along the water-side, they soon found themselves 
 at the quaint little dwelling. Mary was sitting busy at 
 her work as usual, for she was one of the best needle- 
 women that Miss Neville had upon her list, and there 
 was no difficulty in giving her a good supply. There 
 was no Harry now to tell Birdie of all the things of 
 interest, but Polly did her best, and hand-in-hand the
 
 A Ministering Child. 199 
 
 little girls ran off to seat themselves on the river-bank 
 and tell one another all that had passed since they had 
 flitted from the large lodging-house. Birdie had plenty 
 to tell of all the pleasures of Stourcliffe, and though her 
 sightless eyes had not enabled her to look upon the fair 
 scenes of land and water, yet her vivid imagination had 
 pictured it all, and now she told Polly of the wonders. 
 That was such a happy day to the child that the 
 evening came all too soon, and her mother hurried 
 back, anxious lest her husband should have reached 
 home before her. Her countenance fell as she heard 
 his cough in the room, and her surprise was beyond 
 all telling when, on entering, she saw a comfortable 
 supper laid upon the table a very different repast to 
 what was usually set upon it. 
 
 " Where have you been ? I thought you were never 
 coming," said Jim, but not in the old angry tones. 
 
 " Why, father, we've been to old Christie's cabin, 
 and had such a happy day. I've sat by the river, and 
 Polly told me about all the boats and things, and 
 mother and I have really been on a steamer." 
 
 She seemed to forget all fear of her father in her 
 gladness. 
 
 " Come here and tell me all about it. But let's have 
 supper first, for I am hungry," said Jim. 
 
 The fact was, Jim was really very glad to see his 
 wife and child. During those last few days his better 
 self had been asserting itself. Once more the Holy
 
 2OO Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 Spirit had been speaking to the hard man through his 
 blind child. He had awakened to the fact that his 
 home was miserable, his wife broken-down and sad, 
 and he could not hide from himself that he had made 
 them so. On this night he thought he would surprise 
 her by going home early, and taking a tempting sup- 
 per with him. On reaching home he found it empty. 
 Both wife and child were gone. He laid the table 
 as temptingly as he could, thinking they would return 
 immediately. But when more than an hour had passed 
 and they did not come, the thought flashed across him 
 that perhaps his wife could bear her life no more, and 
 had left him, taking the child with her. Time always 
 seems long to those that wait, and to Jim it seemed 
 hours, anxious as he was to begin to make amends 
 for all the past. 
 
 Birdie had come home hungry with the fresh, crisp 
 air, and greatly appreciated the welcome food. 
 
 " Oh father ! it is nice," she said. " How did you 
 come to think of anything so good ? " 
 
 " It's my fault you haven't as good a supper most 
 nights," said Jim sadly. " I tell you, wife, I've been 
 thinking that things have gone on in this fashion long 
 enough." 
 
 " I couldn't help it, Jim," she said, half-frightened 
 at his mood. 
 
 " It's not your fault," said Jim, " if your husband 
 has spent his money at the public-house instead of
 
 A Ministering Child. 201 
 
 bringing comfort into the home. The sin lies at 
 my door, and I tell you I think it's laid there long 
 enough." 
 
 " Oh Jim ! " said his poor wife, bursting into tears. 
 
 " Do you mind my mother, Jeanie ? " he asked in 
 a softened voice. 
 
 "Mind her? Indeed I do." And a glimpse of the 
 old country home came wafted back to her, and Jim's 
 mother, with her peaceful face and clean white kerchief, 
 seemed to stand before her. 
 
 " She wished me to make my mother's God my 
 Friend, but I've turned my back on Him all these 
 years. I've given Him no place in my heart and 
 home. But the other night He sent me one message 
 more. He sent it through our child, Jeanie, our one 
 child, who, in my sin, I murmured at because He had 
 made her blind. Isn't there somewhere in the old 
 Book some such words as 'A little child shall lead 
 them ' ? Our child has been leading rne, Jeanie." 
 
 Birdie had been listening intently. She now slipped 
 down from her chair and felt her way to her father's 
 knee. 
 
 " Father ! dear father ! " she said, putting her arms 
 all round his neck, "Jesus loves you, and gave Him- 
 self for you. Wasn't it wonderful love ? " 
 
 " Yes, Birdie, wonderful indeed that He should 
 care for such a sinner as your father." 
 
 "That's just it, father. I know Miss Maude said
 
 202 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 one day that it was sinners Jesus came to save ; " 
 and then the verse rang out in Birdie's sweet 
 tones 
 
 " I hear Thy welcome voice, 
 That calls me, Lord, to Thee, 
 For cleansing in Thy precious blood, 
 That flowed on Calvary." 
 
 The weary mother sat and listened, the tears steal- 
 ing down her face. She knew that she too had 
 turned her back upon God. Her sorrow had hardened, 
 not softened, her worn heart. But Birdie's love was 
 so real, so true, that she too was touched by it. 
 
 From that night Jim's home was different. He 
 knew that he had not only to seek forgiveness for the 
 past sins, but to forsake them ; and one of the first 
 steps was to sign the pledge, praying that God would 
 help him keep it. When Jim's money was faithfully 
 brought home it soon worked a wonderful change in 
 the appearance of everything, and Birdie's voice could 
 often be heard singing more joyously than ever. Her 
 father was now devoted to her, treating her as tenderly 
 now as he had roughly in the past ; and when anybody 
 asked wonderingly what had made such a change in the 
 once hard man, he would point to Birdie and say 
 
 " That was God's messenger ; our child was His 
 ministering angel."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 BERNARD. 
 
 ERNARD had found that he was quite right in 
 supposing that he should have no more time 
 for boating. He had been raised to a higher 
 form, and this necessarily meant more work. Some- 
 times he would saunter down to the river-side and 
 have a chat with his old friend Christie, but even 
 these visits were few and far between. One day he 
 came home looking very hot and tired. 
 
 " Is anything the matter, Bernard ? " his mother 
 asked, seeing his weary look. 
 
 " No, mother, not particularly ; but Boulton is a 
 perfect bore ; I can't think what has come to the man. 
 He is so irritable, the boys cannot please him any way." 
 
 " Has he always been so ? " 
 
 " Well, no ; not like this. The boys have been 
 out of all patience to-day, and wanted to play him 
 a practical joke to pay him out." 
 
 " Oh Bernard ! I hope you did not join in it." 
 
 203
 
 204 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 " No, mother, I didn't ; and after a while I per- 
 suaded the other fellows to give it up. They would 
 only have got into a row, and done no good." 
 
 " No, indeed ; a practical joke is a most mean thing, 
 and perfectly unworthy of gentlemen. Besides, Bernard, 
 you have higher reasons for not joining in such a thing." 
 " Yes, mother ; happily I remembered in time." 
 " I am glad ; it would be a great dishonour to a 
 soldier of the King of kings." 
 
 " But it is dreadfully trying, mother ; it makes the 
 term work much harder." 
 
 " Is Mr. Boulton in some trouble, do you think ? " 
 " I am sure I don't know. I never thought of 
 such a thing." 
 
 " It may be so ; very likely he is in ill health." 
 No more was said that day, but about a week later 
 Bernard did not come home at the usual hour. When 
 he at last came in Mrs. Cameron said 
 " What has kept you so late, Bernard ? " 
 "Well, mother, I was leaving the school, when I 
 saw Boulton talking to a messenger who had just 
 come. He looked dreadfully worried and anxious, 
 and I heard him say, ' I will see what I can do. Say 
 I will be home as soon as possible.' I don't know 
 what induced me, but I went up to him and said, 
 ' Can I do anything for you, sir ? ' He turned round 
 as sharp as a needle, and looked as if he were going 
 to speak in the usual irritable way, when he suddenly
 
 Bernard. 205 
 
 changed completely. ' Cameron,' he said, ' I am in 
 sore trouble. My wife is very ill ; they have just 
 sent to beg me to go home at once, as they fear she 
 is dying ; and, besides, I ought to go to the city 
 on some important business that must be attended to 
 to-day. I have no one trustworthy to send in my 
 place, and if I go there first I may be too late.' He 
 nearly broke down, poor fellow ! and I felt dreadfully 
 sorry for him. ' Is it anything I could do for you, 
 Mr. Boulton ? Could you trust me ? ' I asked ; and 
 then, mother, he said if there were a boy in the school 
 he could trust, it was I,' " said Bernard, colouring ; 
 " and he immediately pulled out some papers from his 
 pocket, and began telling me what he wished done." 
 
 " I am glad he could say that, Bernard ; it is what 
 a mother is proud to hear of her son." 
 
 " So, you see, I went off to the city at once. And 
 then, as I thought perhaps it would be a satisfaction to 
 him to know it was all right, I called at his house and 
 asked to see him for a minute. You never saw any 
 one so grateful, mother. He seemed quite a different 
 man to the Boulton we are accustomed to ; and what 
 do you think he said ? " 
 
 " What was it ?" 
 
 " He said he knew that he had often been very cross 
 and irritable, and that he had tried the boys very much, 
 but did we know all his intense anxiety of the last few 
 months, perhaps we should not judge him so harshly."
 
 206 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 " What did you say ? " 
 
 " I told him I was awfully sorry for him, and I was 
 sure the other fellows would be too, when they knew. 
 ' Perhaps so, Cameron/ he said, ' but I don't think 
 English schoolboys are a sympathetic race.' 
 
 " I told him I thought he wronged us, that there 
 were plenty of fellows with kind hearts which were 
 capable of sympathy when it was drawn out. 
 
 " Then he said, ' Well, Cameron, I have found that 
 there is one at any rate. I cannot thank you as I 
 would ; you have done me an inestimable service to- 
 day. The doctor has just been, and now gives me a 
 gleam of hope of my wife's life. He said that the con- 
 sequences would have been most serious had I not re- 
 turned home as quickly as I did, for she was asking 
 for me continually.' 
 
 '"I am very glad sir,' I said, shaking hands with 
 him warmly. I shall never think of Boulton in the 
 same way again ; he has certainly got a very tender 
 side to his nature in spite of all his irritability." 
 
 "This is better than a practical joke, Bernard," 
 said Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 " Yes, mother, indeed ; ten thousand times better." 
 
 " It shows how every day, if we are only looking 
 for it, we may be bearing one another's burdens, and 
 so fulfilling the law of Christ. ' The Son of Man came 
 not to be ministered unto, but to minister,' " said Mrs. 
 Cameron quietly. " But you must be very hungry,
 
 Bernard. 207 
 
 Bernard. Go into the dining-room ; Riley will bring 
 you all you want." 
 
 If Bernard found his time shorter that evening for 
 his studies, he certainly found them easier than usual, 
 for his heart was light; and -when at length the last 
 book was closed, his mother listened to his joyous 
 whistle as he crossed the hall and joined her in the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 " Ethel and Maude had also been busy at their 
 studies, but they had not forgotten their poorer friends. 
 The end of this term would bring Christmas, and they 
 had been thinking what they could do to make it a 
 joyous, happy time. As Maude said, it had been a 
 wonderful summer; and they had all been learning 
 the pleasures of a ministering life. Their love to the 
 Saviour, who had done so much for them, had deep- 
 ened, and His love was reflected in their lives. Their 
 mother noticed gladly the many little acts of unselfish- 
 ness that they showed to one another. Neither did they 
 stop there, but the servants also felt that the young 
 people were more considerate than they used to be. 
 
 " Mother," said Maude one day, " Ethel and I have 
 been talking over what we can do to make Christmas 
 bright, and we want your wise head to help us." 
 
 " Well, let me hear what you have been thinking 
 of first ? " 
 
 " You see, there are so many we should like to think 
 of this time. A few months ago there was only old
 
 208 Old Christie s Cabin. 
 
 Christie in the cabin ; now there are Mary and her 
 children." 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 "Then there are Birdie and Milly we must not 
 forget them. Here comes Ethel. We were just 
 wanting you, Ethel ; we are going to have a council 
 about Christmas." 
 
 "All right," said Ethel, seating herself. 
 
 " We want to remember everybody," said the 
 warm-hearted Maude. 
 
 " It will take time and trouble and money, Maude," 
 said Mrs. Cameron. " Before you do anything you 
 must count the cost." 
 
 " Oh mother ! don't make it sound so formidable," 
 said Maude pitifully. 
 
 " I do not wish to do that. I think it is a kind, 
 happy thought, but you have not much time to begin 
 with, and I do not want you and Ethel to undertake 
 what you cannot carry through. I think it must 
 mainly depend upon yourselves, so that it would be 
 wise for you to consider it well before making a 
 beginning." 
 
 " Flannel petticoats and things of that sort don't 
 take very long to make, mother." 
 
 " No, not very long, perhaps. How much do 
 you think they would cost ? " 
 
 " I have no idea. About a shilling each ? " asked 
 Maude.
 
 Bernard. 209 
 
 " A great deal more than that," said Mrs. Cameron, 
 smiling. "You see I am right in saying you must 
 count the cost." 
 
 " Then I am afraid we can't do it after all ; and 
 I thought it was such a nice plan." 
 
 "Come, come, that is giving up very soon. Now 
 I have a plan to suggest." 
 
 " What is it, mother ? " 
 
 "Well, I suggest that you ask some of your 
 young friends to come and help you. Tell them 
 about the poor people in whom you are so interested. 
 It will, perhaps, teach them too some lessons on the 
 sweetness of ministering to others." 
 
 "That is a capital plan," said Ethel. "We might 
 meet once a week, or once a fortnight, up to Christ- 
 mas. I shall be delighted to help the younger 
 ones." 
 
 " I think," said Mrs. Cameron, " that each child 
 might be asked to contribute something out of her 
 pocket-money, which could be devoted to buying 
 materials ; and between you, you would soon make 
 up some useful garments. I should have a box for 
 the money, so that each child might put in what 
 she liked. It must be a willing gift. Some children 
 could afford to put in more than others, so in this 
 way there would be no opportunity for comparison." 
 
 " I feel sure Leila Stevenson would help us ; and 
 there are the Bevans and the Morrisons," said Ethel.
 
 2io Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 " We might go this afternoon and ask them," said 
 Maude. " We had better begin next Saturday." 
 
 So after lessons were over the two sisters sallied 
 forth to make their calls and give their invitations. 
 As Ethel expected, Leila Stevenson very willingly 
 promised her help. She was about two years older 
 than Ethel, and had left school some time since. She 
 was a bright, lively girl, full of energy, but leading as 
 yet a very aimless life. She entered heartily into 
 Ethel's plan, and as she was a universal favourite 
 with the younger ones, she was likely to prove a 
 valuable helper. The two sisters returned home 
 delighted with their success. The Doctor's family 
 was much liked, and the invitation had been accepted 
 cordially. 
 
 The next afternoon, directly they were free from 
 lessons, they went with Mrs. Cameron to choose 
 materials for their work. She made the girls make 
 their own selection, and then gave her opinion of 
 their choice. 
 
 When Saturday came quite a number of happy 
 young people gathered in the drawing-room, and 
 though Mrs. Cameron was there to receive them, she 
 left Ethel after a time to take the lead, with Leila's 
 help. Mrs. Cameron found the boys hanging about, 
 not quite knowing what to be doing. 
 
 " Why can't we do something for Christmas as well 
 as the girls ? " said Hubert in an ill-used voice.
 
 Bernard. 2 1 1 
 
 Mrs. Cameron looked puzzled. Then a happy 
 thought struck her. 
 
 " How would you like to mend some of the broken 
 toys, and make them fit to give away to poor children?" 
 
 " That would be splendid, Arthur, wouldn't it ? " 
 said Hubert. 
 
 " There are a few toys that I could easily give you 
 at once to begin upon," Mrs. Cameron said. 
 
 " Where is Leslie ? Let us go and find Leslie ; 
 he is a capital carpenter," cried Hubert. 
 
 Leslie was soon found, and having nothing parti- 
 cular to do, he very willingly fell in with the proposal. 
 He was specially clever as a carpenter, and was never 
 happier than when he had a hammer or chisel in his 
 hand. 
 
 The afternoon proved a very happy one for both 
 boys and girls, and ended in an invitation being sent 
 to the boys of the various families who had a taste for 
 carpentering to come and help on that day fortnight 
 in mending up old toys.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ARTHUR'S DEN. 
 
 RTHUR returned to his grandfather that even- 
 ing in quite an excited state about their new 
 work. He seated himself on a low stool near 
 Mr. Ferrers' chair, and began pouring out a full ac- 
 count of the afternoon's proceeding. 
 
 " You know, grandpapa, that I have such a number 
 of toys, and some of them are broken a little. Do you 
 think you would mind very much if we mended them 
 and gave them away at Christmas to some children 
 who have not any ? " 
 
 As he was speaking, the thought crossed his sensi- 
 tive mind that perhaps it was not quite the thing to 
 give away toys that his grandfather had given him. 
 
 " Have you been so destructive that many of them 
 are broken ? " asked Mr. Ferrers. 
 
 " I am afraid some are," said Arthur in a doleful 
 voice. 
 
 "I hope not many, because some cost a great deal 
 
 of money." 
 
 212
 
 Arthur's Den. 21 
 
 " I tell you what, grandpapa ; I'll run upstairs and 
 bring them all out of the cupboard, and then I can see 
 better what they are, can't I ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that would be a good plan." 
 
 Arthur was running off, when he suddenly turned 
 back and said 
 
 " It wouldn't hurt you, grandpapa, if I gave away 
 one or two you have given me, would it ? Because 
 Mrs. Cameron says many children have not anything 
 to play with." 
 
 " No, Arthur ; but you must first show me what 
 they are." 
 
 So off Arthur bounded to ask Bailey to give him a 
 light. In the kitchen he found Markham sitting by 
 the fire alone and crying bitterly. 
 
 " What is the matter, Markham ? " he asked ; but 
 she only cried the more. He had fully forgiven her 
 for her rough treatment of Rover, and indeed Rover 
 himself had had a more peaceful time since the un- 
 happy afternoon when there had been such a battle. 
 Finding she did not speak, he put his arms round her. 
 
 " Poor old Markham ! " he said kindly," don't cry so." 
 
 " I've just had a letter," she sobbed out, " and it's 
 to tell me that my son is dead. He's died right away 
 in America, and I shall never see him again." 
 
 " I am so sorry," he said ; " I know how bad it 
 feels to lose some one you love very much. I've lost 
 my dear papa and mamma, and I thought I should 
 never be happy any more. And I do miss them so,"
 
 214 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 and at the thought his eyes filled with tears. " But, 
 dear Markham," he went on, "you must try and not 
 cry, for you will see him one day again. My mamma 
 said that I was to be sure to come to them, for they 
 would be waiting for me in Heaven. And your son 
 will be waiting for you, won't he ? " added the little 
 comforter. 
 
 " Bless the child," said Markham, wiping her eyes, 
 and then crying again, " I shall never be good enough 
 to go there." 
 
 " I am sure Jesus can make you good enough," he 
 said gravely, " because my mamma said so." 
 
 Just then Bailey came into the kitchen, and 
 Markham roused herself to ask Arthur if he wanted 
 something. 
 
 " Oh yes, please ; I want Bailey to light the gas 
 in my room, because we are going to mend up all 
 the broken toys and give them away at Christmas. 
 Grandpapa says he does not mind, but I must let 
 him see them first, so I am going to get them all 
 out to look at." 
 
 Bailey was very good-natured, and in another 
 minute she and Arthur were upstairs lighting the gas 
 in the room which had been specially set apart for his 
 use. This was the one that his father had told him 
 about, which gave a view of the river. Here the boy 
 could often be seen curled up on the high window-seat, 
 watching the boats as they sailed along, and often 
 thinking of his parents when he felt specially lonely.
 
 Arthur's Den. 215 
 
 It had been, as Markham said, a lumber-room for 
 many years, and it had been a special grief to the 
 old servant when Mr. Ferrers one day expressed a 
 wish that the room should be emptied and made fit for 
 his grandson's use. Markham had grumbled at the 
 trouble, saying any room in the house would have 
 done as well. But she little knew the comfort this 
 room was to the boy, associated as it was with hia 
 father's boyhood. Mr. Ferrers had had a large cup- 
 board fitted up in which Arthur could keep his toys, 
 and this was the receptacle that he now proposed to 
 turn out. 
 
 And such a turn-out it was ! Engines, trains, pumps, 
 fountains, puzzles, balls, kites, everything that could be 
 thought of had found its way to Arthur's room. He 
 coaxed Bailey into staying a little while to help him, 
 and certainly it was a wonderful array that they laid 
 out on the table and floor. 
 
 " Well, Master Arthur, 1 hope you have got 
 enough toys. Why, there are enough for twenty 
 children ! " 
 
 " It is a lot, isn't it, Bailey ? " said Arthur gravely. 
 " Now you must help me choose those which would 
 be best to give away." 
 
 This selection was a difficult matter, and in the 
 middle of it a step was heard on the stairs and 
 Mr. Ferrers appeared at the door. 
 
 " Dear ! dear ! Why, you have enough toys to 
 fit up a shop ! " he said, smiling. " You ought to be
 
 216 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 a very happy boy, Arthur, if possessing toys is a 
 sure way to happiness." 
 
 " Isn't it a splendid quantity, grandpapa? And, 
 you know, you gave me most of them." 
 
 " I don't think I gave you this," said Mr. Ferrers, 
 pointing to a wonderful apparatus for making running 
 waterfalls. " Was it not this that poor Markham 
 wished had never been invented ? " 
 
 "Yes. She cannot bear it because, she says, it 
 makes such a mess, but I think it is splendid. Captain 
 Inglis gave it to me just before he sailed for India." 
 
 " Perhaps it would be well to put that among 
 the number for giving away," said Mr. Ferrers. 
 
 " Do you really think so, grandpapa ? " he said 
 in a doubtful voice. " But perhaps it would make 
 Markham happier if it went away, and she is so 
 unhappy to-night." 
 
 "Indeed ! Why, what's the matter with Markham ? " 
 
 " She has had a letter, and it says her son is 
 dead ; he died far away in America. Are you not 
 sorry for her, grandpapa ? " 
 . " Yes, very sorry," said Mr. Ferrers. 
 
 " She was crying so. But I told her that he 
 would be waiting for her in Heaven ; but poor Mark- 
 ham said she was not good enough to go there. 
 But I am sure Jesus can make her good enough ; 
 can't He, grandpapa ? " 
 
 " Good-night, my boy," said Mr. Ferrers, stooping 
 to kiss the bright face, " I will leave you and
 
 Arthur s Den. 217 
 
 Bailey to go on with your work, and I will look at 
 your selection to-morrow." 
 
 As Mr. Ferrers turned away he stood for a moment 
 at the bottom of the stairs and listened to the boy's 
 silvery voice as he chatted with Bailey. Surely the 
 little child possessed something that his grandfather 
 did not, and once again he was God's messenger. 
 As Mr. Ferrers returned to his easy-chair Arthur's 
 words came back to him. He felt that he too had 
 a son waiting for him in Heaven, and he felt, as 
 Markham did, that he was not good enough to meet 
 him there. Then the childish words came back 
 again "Jesus can make her good enough; can't 
 He, grandpapa ? " 
 
 When Arthur was asleep that night, and Bailey was 
 sitting with Markham over their supper, she said 
 
 " Master Arthur's a deal of thought about him. 
 What do you think he said about that waterfall 
 affair that he's so fond of?" 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," said Markham. " The 
 thing makes a lot of mess. I've often wished as Captain 
 Inglis had taken it along o' him to the Indies." 
 
 " Well, it's likely it will go away somewhere now." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Markham, looking over her spec- 
 tacles. 
 
 " The master came up, and was looking round at 
 all the toys, when he suddenly noticed that one, and 
 asked if that was the one you disliked so much, for 
 if so, perhaps it had better be given away."
 
 218 Old Christie 's Cabin. 
 
 " I'm sure Master Arthur would never hear of that. 
 Why, there isn't a toy he cares for half as much as 
 he does that." 
 
 " Well, he's willing to let it go for your sake, then," 
 said Bailey. "At first, when his grandpapa proposed 
 it, he looked very crestfallen, but presently he said 
 that if it would make Markham happier perhaps it 
 had better go, for poor Markham was so unhappy." 
 
 " Bless the boy ! you don't mean to say he said 
 that ? " she said, the tears slowly rolling down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " Yes, indeed I do ; and I believe he means it too." 
 
 Markham did not say anything, but she was think- 
 ing deeply. The child's simple words when he had 
 tried to comfort her still rang in her ears, and his 
 unselfish love in trying to make her happier, even 
 though it meant parting with his much-prized toy, 
 touched her deeply. 
 
 From that night a perfectly different understanding 
 commenced between the elderly woman and the little 
 boy. God's great love began gradually shining in her 
 heart, making life and its little worries and big diffi- 
 culties seem quite different, and from that time she 
 and Arthur were true and faithful friends a friend- 
 ship which even Rover shared. Good dog as he was, 
 he did not bear malice, but was quite willing to accept 
 the love of his old enemy, so that in after-days he 
 was often to be found lying close to old Markham's 
 feet.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
 
 jHE interest with which the young people had 
 taken up their new work did not slacken as 
 the weeks passed on. Ethel and Leila were 
 indefatigable in doing all they could to help the 
 younger ones, and as Christmas drew near it was 
 wonderful to see the pile of useful garments which 
 their busy fingers had made. Many of the toys had 
 been very ingeniously mended, and would no doubt 
 give intense pleasure to the children for whom they 
 were intended. 
 
 The last Saturday before Christmas had come, and 
 on this day the various gifts were to be set apart to 
 the most suitable recipients. Ethel and Leila had 
 privately made the selection as seemed to them most 
 suitable, but the final decision was to be made by 
 taking the votes of the whole party. This was done 
 amidst a great deal of merriment, and then a general 
 packing up followed. So much more had been ac- 
 
 219
 
 220 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 complished than the young workers ever expected, 
 that the names of many other poor children beyond 
 those first talked of were added to the list. Perhaps 
 the children's interest centred more around Birdie than 
 all the rest, and special care was taken to supply her 
 with something that she would like. The choice rested 
 on a warm flannel petticoat and a small musical-box, 
 which Arthur asked his grandfather's special permis- 
 sion to give away. It was far from being an un- 
 valued toy, neither was it broken, but Arthur pleaded 
 that it would give Birdie so much pleasure, that Mr. 
 Ferrers willingly gave his consent. 
 
 When the Christmas bells were ringing out their 
 earliest peal Birdie woke up. She had been told by 
 her mother, the night before, that she must hang up 
 her stocking and perhaps something very wonderful 
 would come to pass. Now, Birdie had never heard of 
 Santa Claus, but wonderingly she did as her mother 
 bade her. When she woke her first thought was of 
 her mother's strange request the night before. Her 
 quick hands soon reached the stocking, and first of all 
 there seemed tied to it something very bulky. It was 
 covered in paper, and yet felt soft. Birdie proceeded 
 to open it, and feeling it all over, soon discovered the 
 warm flannel petticoat. Then she put out her hand to 
 the stocking again, and this time she felt something 
 hard which fitted into the stocking closely. It did 
 not seem like her own stocking either, it was too
 
 Christmas Morning. 221 
 
 large for that. Her mother, who had been silently 
 watching her, now came forward and helped her to 
 untie this second parcel. 
 
 "Oh mother!" she cried, "this is- the most 
 wonderful stocking ! Who can have put all these 
 things here ? " 
 
 " Well, let us see what it is ; " and in another 
 moment her mother was gently turning the handle of 
 the little box, and at the sweet sounds Birdie clapped 
 her hands with delight. Surely Arthur would have 
 been more than repaid could he have seen her pleasure. 
 Then came smaller gifts from her father and mother, for 
 Jim could now think of his wife and child, and he had 
 gladly fallen in with the children's wish that Santa 
 Claus should visit Birdie's bedside. It was a happy 
 Christmas to the trio in that London home, for now 
 they could join in the joyous song 
 
 " Unto you is born this day 
 A Saviour, Christ the Lord." 
 
 The Doctor's family were awake early that Christmas 
 morning, for the day was to begin with a visit to old 
 Christie's cabin. The bells were ringing out as the 
 party, headed by Bernard, stepped out on to the hard 
 frosty road. The air was clear and sharp, and the 
 cheeks of the young people glowed with health when 
 they reached the cabin-door. Old Christie had just 
 come out to enjoy his morning pipe, when he caught 
 sight of the party coming along ; indeed, their merry
 
 222 Old Christie's Cabin. 
 
 laughter could be heard before they turned the corner 
 of the road. 
 
 " Good - morning, Christie," said Bernard. " We 
 thought we should like to come and wish you a happy 
 Christmas." 
 
 " Indeed, sir, I thank you all, and heartily wish you 
 the same," said the old man. 
 
 " Where is Mary ? " asked Maude. " We want to 
 see her and all the children." 
 
 The children had already heard the greetings, and 
 now called loudly for their mother to come downstairs. 
 Many sad thoughts had come to Mary that morning. 
 How could she help contrasting this Christmas Day 
 with those that were past ? Will had always made it 
 such a happy time, but now she felt she dare not 
 spend the hardly-earned money on simple presents 
 for the children. She had told them, with tears in 
 her eyes, that they knew their mother did not love 
 them less because she could not show it in Christmas 
 gifts. When she came down the little kitchen seemed 
 full of guests, and each guest carried a parcel, either 
 great or small. She had hard work to keep back her 
 tears as she came among the happy faces. 
 
 " How kind and good of you all to think of us on 
 Christmas morning ! " she said. 
 
 "Oh! we liked coming, Mary, better than anything," 
 said Arthur eagerly. "We have been longing for 
 Christmas morning ; haven't we, Hubert ? "
 
 Christmas Morning. 223 
 
 " We thought we should all like to make your 
 Christmas happy," said Ethel, " and so we have come 
 to bring you our little presents ourselves." 
 
 The gifts had been carefully addressed, and soon 
 each one, including old Christie, was opening his or 
 her own parcel. Of course Christie's included, among 
 many comforts, some of his much-loved baccy. 
 
 " God bless you, dear young people. May you be 
 better and happier for an old man's blessing," said 
 Christie in a trembling voice. " You've lightened my 
 sorrows many a time and cheered my once lonely 
 home. God bless you all ! " 
 
 He could not say more, for his voice failed him, 
 and Mary found it hard to thank them as she wished, 
 but the children could have no doubt of the real plea- 
 sure they had given to the little family in the old 
 cabin. 
 
 " Christie," said Bernard presently, " we have some- 
 thing we want to thank you for. We all feel that it 
 is through you that we have begun to think of others, 
 and I hope we have all determined to try and live 
 ministering lives. It has been much the happiest 
 year of my life, and I think all the others would say 
 the same, for we have . found out the happiness of 
 bearing one another's burdens, and so fulfilling the 
 law of Christ." 
 
 Then the merry party set off homewards, and 
 reached the hall just as the Doctor and Mrs. Cameron
 
 224 Otd Christie's Cabin. 
 
 were coming downstairs to breakfast. Loving gifts 
 were passed round the table, and probably there was 
 no happier breakfast-party in all London than that at 
 The Chestnuts. And when later the family gathered 
 in God's House, they joined with heart and soul in 
 thanksgiving for God's great gift which had brought 
 joy and peace into their home. 
 
 THE END.
 
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