Catharine Shaw

“ I think I should like to help her for nothing—out of love to you, Jem, and by-and-by out of love to her." [Pg 51]
"Yes, dear, so should I; but I see what mother feels. If she has more work than she can do alone, she would have to pay some one else, and would a deal rather the money went into your pocket. She would not be right to earn money at your expense."
"Not if we gave my time willingly?"
"No; but, Meg, you needn't do it unless you like it, my dear."
"I thought you would be sure to tell me to help your mother all I can," said Meg, almost ready to cry. ”

“ She had left, fifty miles away, the dear fragrant garden, where only this morning her mother had gathered such a posie as had never been seen before; she had left the cottage where every china mug and shepherdess was like a bit of her life; she had left the situation in the grand house at the end of her mother's garden, where she had lived for four years in the midst of every luxury. And this is what she had come to: two small rooms in a high London house, in one of the streets turning out of a wide but gone-down thoroughfare near London Bridge. ”

“ Cherry looked doubtful. It was on her lips to say, "Father would do anything for drink," but she felt it would be cruel to even think such a thing now, and she hastily dismissed the thought. And as it went another came—"I'll ask Jesus to help." So when she put on her shabby little hat, and turned down-stairs with Jem, the uppermost thought in her heart came to be, "Oh, if only poor father could love Jesus; I shouldn't mind about being happy myself." ”

“ Jem took Dickie up in his strong arms, while Cherry followed Meg to the stairs. She linked her arm confidingly in hers, and her golden hair fell over Meg's shoulder as she whispered,
"I know as we don't make up for the little baby, even though we do love you very much indeed, mother-Meg; I wish as I could do anything for you." ”

“ Then Meg unrolled her parcel, and there was a ready-made jacket for Dickie, and stuff like Cherry's for a neat little frock, and a hat, which Meg put down on his table in front of him, guiding his soft hands to feel its shape and newness.
"For me?" asked Dickie. "What a nice lickle hat!"
"See if it fits you," said Meg, placing it on his head.
Cherry was delighted; and then Meg turned to the table to begin cutting out, so that no time might be wasted.
"Does he never run about?" whispered Mrs. Blunt, glancing towards Dickie. ”

“ Then, just as Cherry and Jem were looking at each other in dismay, he roused himself once more.
"You may 'ave 'em," he said.
Jem signed to the nurse to draw near.
"Tom Seymour," he said solemnly, "do you make my wife and me guardians of your two children, Cherry and Dickie?"
"Yes," said the man distinctly; "and God grant as you may keep the charge better'n I've done."
"God will help us," said Jem, taking the hand which lay outside the counterpane; "and, my friend, God will help you. If you turn to him now He will receive you." ”

“ Now what could be better'n Meg's goin' too?"
"Beautiful," said Mrs. Seymour. "Cherry will help me nicely, and we'll manage to take care of Dickie while she is away. Wouldn't you like it, my dear?"
"I was only going to say," said Meg, "that the doctor told me this afternoon that it would be the very best thing for Dickie. Jem, might I take him?"
Jem stroked her cheek, which had flushed with eagerness, and he said, turning to Mrs. Seymour and smiling a little sadly—
"Mother, she's like a hen with one chick; nobody can't take care of Dickie but her." ”

“ Meg tried to hold out her arms, but failed, and her mother-in-law laid a little babe in them. Meg said not a word, but pressed a kiss upon Jem's hand, and endeavoured to reach the downy little head. But she had no strength, and Mrs. Seymour, seeing her wish, and knowing too something else which neither of them guessed, raised the babe a little, that its mother's lips might touch its tiny face.
Meg was satisfied, and closed her eyes to sleep. "Husband and child," she thought, "who could be richer?" ”

“ A woman on a dying bed, whispering with an earnestness which impressed every word on her child's memory, "Cherry, if you're in any trouble, tell Jesus—ask Him to help you. Oh, Cherry, if I did not know you love Him, my heart would break. Jesus, will help you. Tell Dickie that I always said that." ”

“ Meg had sat spell-bound, listening to the woman's words, her interest in her Jem swallowed up in her greater interest in this soul's struggle from death to life.
"Oh, thank you for telling me," she exclaimed at last.
But the invalid spoke again.
"I've been a selfish woman all my life, and now [Pg 58] I've come near the end of it, I'm a selfish old woman still; but my Jesus is going to cure me of that. I tell Him about it every day, and He helps me every day to get the better of it, a little bit."
"Oh, Miss Hobson," said Meg, coming close to her, "I do want to get like Jesus too. ”

“ Meg looked rather astonished.
"Why, you know, Jem, as everything nearly is new what you got ready for our home."
"Yes," said Jem, "yes, I know. I wonder how we could do?"
"What is it for?" asked Meg.
"Why, my girl, my heart's just achin' at a little feller I saw there in a attic. He's been lyin', his sister told me, ever since the first week in May, and he's like a skeleton. She don't seem to have much to give him, nor to live on herself neither, and he's got nothing on him but an old shawl, and the girl says as he's awful cold of nights. It's a frightful draughty place." ”

“ Jem put his hand gently on the girl's arm.
"Ah, my dear, that's how we feel when we're sad; but if we understand that God loves us, we'll be willing to wait, so as we may do His will."
Her wide-open, sad blue eyes filled slowly, and she turned in silence to cover over her little brother. She took up the old shawl and spread the blanket next him, then unfolding the shawl, which had been doubled for warmth, she carefully covered every bit of the blanket with it, even seeking a bit of rag from somewhere to stop up a hole through which the whiteness peeped. ”

“ When she came back with the pound of sugar and a pint of milk, the porridge had had its full half-hour, and was done.
"Now stand it on the hob, and if it simmers a little it will not hurt at all. Pour it out the last thing, and see if they do not like it better than bread, and feel more satisfied too. I've heard that it is the best thing you can have to make children grow."
"May I bring back your spoon and tell you how I got on with it?" asked Mrs. Blunt, already longing to taste what looked and smelt so good.
"Do; I shall be glad to see you," answered Meg. ”

“ I have very little to spend; and yet—" She sighed. "I am so tired, and it would be such a comfort to have you if you were a good girl."
"I'd try to be, ma'am," answered Kittie; "but—mother says I'm very tiresome sometimes."
The curate's wife smiled kindly.
"We all are," she said gently; "but if we know it, and try to be better, so as to please our Lord and Master, we are sure to improve."
Kittie's eyes gave a flash; nobody talked to her quite like that. She should like to serve this pretty lady very much. ”

“ Miss Hobson from the inner room called out cheerily: "Well, it's the only thing as she thinks you can't do to her mind anyway."
"Young folks can't have the experience of us old ones," said Mrs. Seymour. "We can't expect it."
Meg finished the shirts, and then went into the back room to say, "How d'ye do" to her mother-in-law's lodger, while Mrs. Seymour took off her ironing apron, settled her cap aright, and went downstairs.
"I shall bring you a cup of our tea presently," said Meg, "and a bit of bread and butter, so don't settle to sleep yet, Miss Hobson." ”

“ She signed to him that Meg was still asleep, and closing the door behind her, she set about making the tea, Jem asking her in a low tone what sort of a night his wife had passed.
"Beautiful," said Mrs. Seymour; "she hasn't waked once since I put Dickie back; and while they're all asleep I want to talk to you, Jem. Shall we sit down and have a bit of breakfast, so as to be ready when we are wanted?" ”

“ Seymour says I shall be very useful if I take pains," answered Cherry, "and I have been trying very hard to, mother-Meg, because I do eat so much."
Cherry said this with compunction, and Meg laughed a little.
"Never mind that, dear. While I have been lying still I've been thinking of a lot of things you might do to get a little living."
"Have you?" asked Cherry, sitting down by the fire with Dickie on her knee.
"Yes; you might help mother with her washing sometimes; or you could learn to do nice needle-work. I mean to write to Mrs. MacDonald and ask her if she wants any done." ”

“ Tear after tear coursed down her cheeks, and it was with difficulty that she could guide herself in the crowded thoroughfare.
At last Jem, seeing this, took her hand again, and sought for words of comfort.
"You mustn't doubt God, child," he said kindly; "we're all apt to think as He can't do nothin' without us. But 'tis oftentimes when we have done all as is in our power, and yet have failed, that He can work best. Me and Meg was readin' yesterday—why, it was only yesterday!" ”

“ Mrs. Seymour soon put a steaming cup into Jem's hand, and another into Cherry's. Then she cut some bread for them, and placed some in Meg's little saucepan for the child. After which she went to the bed and took him out, telling Meg she should soon have him again if she wished, but that he was hungry.
Meg was too tired and peaceful to say a word. "He does all things well," she thought, and lay quietly sleeping, not noticing the hushed noises which were going on around her. ”

“ So Meg left the hamper untouched and went to the cupboard where she had seen the cups, and began to set three on a small tray she found there.
"Here is some milk, Jem!" she exclaimed; "how kind your mother is; and some bread and butter too all ready."
"Mother's in general very thoughtful," he answered, going over to her and lifting the tray to the chiffonier. "It will be handy there, against we have cleared the table." ”

“ He'll not be unhappy, my dear, even if he is blind. People will be kind to him, and he'll not miss it as much as you fear. But, whether or not, the best thing we can do is to come to the bottom at once. The Lord knows, and the Lord loves. Cherry, He loves Dickie more than you and Meg do, and that's saying a great deal. ”

“ Dickie grew tired of this talk, and asked if his secret was going to be told.
Meg took him on her lap, and as he nestled his soft curls against her, she explained to him that they must wait till father-Jem came home. [Pg 169]
Just as she was saying this the doctor's quick rap was heard at their door, and he entered at once.
"I am late, Mrs. Seymour," he said; "but I waited till the pressure of my work was over, because I want to have a good look at this little fellow's eyes. Does he never try to use them?"
"No," answered Meg; "he seems to dread the light so much." ”

“ On little Lady Patty, the Earl's Granddaughter alone, is lavished enough of character-drawing to stock an average novel. She and her delightful little friends, the Colonel's daughters, are living and breathing girls, and more good might be done by the tale of their doings than by many a volume of sermons.... The book, as we have said, is entirely delightful, full of health and humour. It is refreshing to be able to praise anything so unreservedly. ”

“ He kissed her tenderly.
"If we bring everythin' as we're doubtful of to whether He would like it——"
Meg nodded; and then he was gone, and she stood alone.
But in a moment his step was heard coming up, and his bright face peeped in.
"How much yeast did you say?"
"Oh, a halfpenny worth—if they would sell it—half an ounce, Jem; that will make up five pounds of flour well." ”

“ Making her own determination, but leaving it for the present for fear of disturbing Jem, she went back to Meg. She stood by the side of the little cot and gazed long and earnestly at the face of her grandchild. [Pg 132]
Her grandchild! How she had longed to welcome it! how she had counted on hearing its little feet patter about in her room! how she had yearned to see her Jem with his child on his knee!
Instead of that, a dead baby lay in the cradle; and in Meg's embrace slept a little stranger child, taken, as it were, out of the very gutter ”

“ She was a tidy enough woman when she came; but poor living and many cares have beaten the life out of her."
Meg sighed, and wondered if there might be anything she might do to lighten the burden; perhaps some day she might hold the baby or something.
Mrs. Seymour did not sit down to doze in her chair this morning. She kept Meg well supplied with things to iron, and Meg satisfied her as much as on the previous day. ”

“ Blunt, with a little smile.
"We learn, don't we," asked Meg, "when He teaches us? Mrs. Blunt, I wish you'd get your husband to go with us to-morrow."
"What, in his working-clothes? He ain't got no others, my dear."
"Jem goes in his," said Meg.
"Yes; but a carpenter's different from a mason."
"It's cleaner work, of course; but I don't believe that our Father in Heaven minds a bit about clothes. He clothes us with the 'Best Robe,' and He looks at us in that."
"What do you mean by 'the best robe,' Mrs. Seymour?" asked the woman, still plying her needle as fast as she could. ”

“ So Cherry went back to her work, and Meg and Mrs. Blunt were left to theirs.
"Do you think as we shall get this done to-night?" asked Mrs. Blunt.
"I hope we shall—I think we may. You see, to-morrow is Sunday, and I did want for us all to go to the Mission Room together. I don't know that Cherry could go in that old thing, though I am not sure, now I say so, that shabby clothes ought to keep us away." [Pg 193]
"No," answered Mrs. Blunt; "but one don't like to be looked down on."
"I suppose we ought to think about pleasing God more than about pleasing our neighbours." ”

“ Seymour were coming down together, and Meg had just reached the bottom step at her own landing, when a man's voice was heard asking in a loud voice as he came up—
"Does any one live here belonging to a man of the name of Seymour?" ”

“ HILE Cherry was busy all day long, from early morning, when she cleaned the doctor's step, till evening, when she read poor suffering Miss Hobson to sleep, little Kittie Blunt was learning her life-lessons too.
"Kittie," said Mrs. Blunt one day, as she and the little girl stood over their washing-tub, "I shouldn't like you to grow up like Pollie, and them girls, as is never satisfied unless they're at their doors gossipin'." ”

“ Seymour get ye a black one for yer poor father?"
Cherry looked a little troubled, and Mrs. Seymour quickly interposed.
"She would ha' done, but I advised her not; it's better as it is. Cherry is as sorry for her poor father in this one as ever she would be in a black; and 'tain't as if Meg could get her another best one in a hurry."
"No," said Miss Hobson; "only some folks thinks a deal o' black."
"Very foolishly," answered Mrs. Seymour decidedly; "but that's not my Jem's Meg. She never even got a bit of new black for the little darling that's gone. ”

“ By-and-by the hubbub was over, and quiet sank down upon the whole of them.
Her father must be dozing, she supposed, as he said not a word, and her mother was unusually silent too. The click of her needle and the sharp rap of her scissors on the bare table were the only sounds inside the room. Outside the noisy roar went on as usual: the crying children, the scolding mothers, the cries of the fish and fruit sellers, the organ-grinders—everything just as usual.
Presently her mother spoke. "Husband, I've been a thinkin' there must be something in them Seymours as is different from most folks." ”

“ Here's my Meg about again, as is the greatest joy I've had for a [Pg 181] long time, and here's this trouble about poor little Dickie. Then Cherry's got a nice beginnin' of somethin' to do, and she too has got to hear, as her little brother, what she's loved so tenderly, is blind."
"Well, my dear," answered Mrs. Seymour, "I'm gettin' to learn, a step at a time, as God leads His people along in the best way. He knows just how to send the sunshine and cloud so as to make the fruits of the earth come to ripen ”