Eleanora H. Stooke

“ Marigold wanted me to read a few verses every day, like she does—I almost think I will!"
"I wish you would. Don't put it off any longer. Do try to love God and walk in His ways. Oh, my dear," and the lame girl's voice was tremulous with strong emotion, "don't say 'Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian,' but make up your mind you will be one. Life is so short—at any time we may be called upon to face our Maker, and how shall we meet Him if we have not tried to keep His commandments?"
"Molly," said Muriel, in an awestruck tone, "do you ever think of dying?" ”

“ Marigold cried, her voice full of a wistful sadness. "Poor mother has not been out of London for years, and the boys have so often talked of what they would do if they were in the country. Oh, Mrs. Adams, don't you think it is hard?"
"It appears so to you and me, my dear; but depend upon it God knows best. As you grow older you will learn, I hope, to trust Him more and more. It is difficult sometimes, when He takes from us what we love, whether it be riches, or home, or those dear to us, and bids us seek fresh interests in life. ”

“ Marigold glanced around her quickly. The apartment was furnished in an old-fashioned manner, the dressing-table being draped with white muslin looped up with bows of pale blue ribbon, and the walls were covered with a paper over which trailed full-blown roses. In one corner was a large doll's house on a stand, and as Marigold's glance rested upon it in wonder, Mrs. Adams said simply—
"Perhaps you have heard that I once had two little daughters of my own? God took them from me many years ago. Well, this was their room. Look here, my dear!" ”

“ The little girl prepared her lessons for the next day in a halfhearted sort of way, and went upstairs to her bedroom early, excusing herself on the plea of being tired. Ringing in her ears all the evening had been the words Grace Long had repeated from the sayings of the wise king: "He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty: and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city."
Marigold flung herself down by the side of her bed, and wept bitterly as she went over in thought the events of the day. ”

“ Marigold paused, her chest heaving with strong emotion, her eyes full of indignant tears.
Grace laid a gentle hand on hers, and pressed it sympathetically.
"Rich people don't understand," Marigold continued tremulously; "they don't know what it is like to be poor! Even Aunt Mary and Aunt Pamela—"
She stopped abruptly, suddenly remembering that she ought not to mention the relations that existed between her mother and aunts to a comparative stranger.
"God understands," Grace said earnestly; "what does it matter about others, if He knows?" ”

“ Marigold explained, whilst Muriel's blue eyes opened wide with astonishment as she listened.
"Good gracious, Marigold! Do you mean to tell me you haven't been digging in the sand, or paddling?" she cried.
"Don't you think Marigold is too old for either of those amusements?" Miss Pamela asked, with a tone of reproof in her voice.
"She is no older than I am," Muriel responded quickly, by no means abashed. "There is nothing I enjoy more than wading in the water. I mean to have a net and go shrimping! Oh, Miss Holcroft, you don't intend to prevent Marigold's joining me, do you?" ”

“ After a moment's hesitation, Marigold explained to her new friend all about her mother and brothers, and her London home. Mrs. Adams listened with great interest, her bright dark eyes full of kindly sympathy.
"I see the thought troubles you that life is so much easier and pleasanter for you than for your mother and brothers," she said gravely; "but I would not let that worry me if I were you. It seems to me that your duty lies with your aunts at Exeter, for the present, at any rate. Has it ever occurred to you that they may want you more than your mother does?" ”

“ I do not doubt that He who loves a cheerful giver will reward her for what she did, and she has the satisfaction of knowing that Molly Jenkins is really grateful to her."
Miss Holcroft's gentle face beamed brightly, and Marigold looked up at her with an answering smile, for the two were beginning to understand each other well.
"I have often noticed that there is a great difference in money," Miss Holcroft continued reflectively; "some seems to carry a blessing with it, and some a curse! Money made in evil ways soon wears out; it is never any lasting good to anyone. ”

“ Miss Pamela demanded.
"I should have known nothing about it myself, Pamela, if I had not discovered poor little Marigold in her bedroom crying as though her heart would break. I asked for an explanation; I am quite sure she had not intended to tell either of us. I believe she is on good terms with most of her schoolfellows now; but I often think of the unkind construction people may be putting on our behaviour to the child's mother."
"Our behaviour! What do you mean? We have never injured her in any way! She is nothing to us!" ”

“ Marigold had been accustomed to live amongst working people all her life, but they had been respectable mechanics and artisans, not those who, though of the working-class, did very little work at all. She had never been in contact with men who spent their days loafing at the corners of streets with their hands in their pockets, women gossiping and remarking on the passers-by, and little children so dirty that she instinctively drew away from them half in pity, half in disgust. ”

“ Having spoken with indignant warmth, Miss Holcroft was not a little alarmed at her temerity, fearing she might have offended her sister; but Miss Pamela's face expressed nothing but astonishment; she had never received such a reproof before.
It was evening, and the sisters were alone in the drawing-room, whilst Marigold in her own room upstairs was engaged in writing her fortnightly letter to her mother. Miss Pamela's head was bent over her woolwork. In her youth it had been the fashionable employment for ladies, and she was always deeply interested in it. ”

“ In the playground Grace Long approached Marigold with a pleasant remark about the beauty of the day. It was a perfect morning. The chestnut trees that surrounded Miss Hardcastle's garden were in full bloom, and the air was sweet with the mingled perfume of lilac and laburnum blossoms. Marigold was seated on a bench by herself; she looked up a little shyly when Grace addressed her, for the big girls did not have much to say to their juniors, as a rule.
"Why are you not at play with the others?" ”

“ Miss Holcroft nodded approvingly, for she knew how badly lace-workers are paid as a rule.
Molly was genuinely delighted to see her visitors. She pointed out the view from the windows to Marigold, where beyond the chimney-tops could be seen pleasant fields, and hills dotted with green woods.
"The stairs are rather a trial to me, sometimes," she said, smiling, "but to be high up above the squalor of the street makes up for that, in my opinion. I always think I can smell the flowers in the fields yonder whilst I sit by the window working, and that keeps me in good spirits." ”

“ She turned approving eyes upon the pretty brass bed with its chintz curtains, and the suite of white enamelled furniture looking so dainty and fresh, and evidently arranged with an eye to comfort as well as elegance. Close to the window was a small writing-table, on which stood a glass vase containing a bunch of white violets. It was altogether the prettiest bedroom Marigold had ever seen, she thought, as she mentally compared it with her little cupboard of a room at home.
Presently Barker came to her assistance, and brushed the dust from her blue serge frock, and proceeded to comb her hair. ”

“ Molly replied, after a minute's pause. Muriel flushed, and looked doubtful, as she hastened to say—
"Oh, I don't know about that! I'm not a bit like Marigold, although I've been trying to be! In spite of her being so lively and full of fun, she's very religious, really! She thinks we ought to return good for evil—there's another girl at our school like her—Grace Long. Such a nice girl she is too! Do you think it makes one happy to be religious?" ”

“ Miss Holcroft said smilingly; "but need we trouble Mr. Adams to fetch Marigold? We might drive out to Rocombe ourselves, and leave her there."
"Perhaps that would be the better plan," Miss Pamela agreed. "I will write Mrs. Adams to that effect. The invitation was given with such spontaneous kindness that I had no scruples about accepting it, especially as I deemed doing so would be for Marigold's benefit."
"How good everyone is to me!" the little girl cried gratefully, glancing from one aunt to the other with eyes that expressed even more than her words. ”

“ Miss Pamela remarked to her sister. "Do you not see it? She has his eyes."
"Yes," Miss Holcroft agreed, "I saw that at once. Are you considered like your father, my dear?"
"Mother says we are all three like him, and she is very glad."
A distinct look of approval was visible on both aunts' faces.
"Sit down, Marigold," Miss Holcroft said; "you must be tired after your long journey. You know which is which of us, I suppose? My sister is Aunt Pamela, and I am Aunt Mary!"
"Yes," the little girl answered smiling, "I thought so!"
"They will miss you at home," Miss Holcroft continued. ”

“ Miss Pamela explained that her sister was Miss Holcroft. Then Marigold drew forward her Aunt Mary, and they all stood chatting together for several minutes. Farmer Jo's face was redder and more smiling than ever. He beamed on every one with evident goodwill, and was inwardly delighted that his mother appeared to get on with the ladies. Miss Holcroft's gentle face was wreathed with smiles, whilst Miss Pamela, though not so cordial in her manner as her sister, was extremely gracious, for her. ”

“ Adams came down, and welcomed her young guest with a bright smile and an affectionate kiss.
What a happy day that was! Mother and son were eager that Marigold should enjoy herself and make the best of her short visit, which both declared must be repeated often.
She saw the butter made, fed the poultry, and investigated all the outbuildings, even to the pig-styes, in one of which she discovered a sow with eleven young ones; the sweetest, prettiest little creatures she had ever seen, only a few days old, black, and slippery as eels, as she found when she tried to catch one. ”

“ Miss Holcroft acknowledged with a sigh, "it is one of the most wretched districts in Exeter. Strangers who visit our beautiful cathedral town little think that there are such miserable parts hidden away in the heart of the city!"
"Are the people who live here very wicked, Aunt Mary?"
"Some are, I fear,—fathers who spend the little money they earn in drink, and mothers who neglect their children and homes for the sake of the same vice. But, my dear, not all are bad. ”

“ It told Marigold that a distant relative had lately died, and had left her mother two hundred pounds a year. To the little girl this amount appeared a big fortune, and her tears were shed for excessive joy.
"I am very silly," she said, half laughing, half crying, "but it is so—so wonderful! Oh, Aunt Mary! Oh, Aunt Pamela! To think mother will never need to work so hard again! She will be able to keep a servant, and live in a nicer place! Two hundred pounds a year is a lot of money, isn't it?"
"It is a good bit," Miss Holcroft responded; adding kindly, "I am very glad, dear!" ”

“ There is no disgrace in being a servant."
"But it is not true! Mother was not a servant!" Marigold broke in.
"No, I do not suppose she was; but if she had been you need not have felt shame on that account. I think you have excited yourself without sufficient cause. As for you, Muriel Wake, you know well enough your motives for putting a false construction on what you have been told. I do not think Miss Hardcastle would be very pleased, were she to hear of your behaviour." ”

“ Holcroft knew that the elder Miss Holcroft—Aunt Mary—had been her husband's favourite aunt, being a much milder, gentler person than Miss Pamela, to whom she had grown accustomed to defer in every matter, whether of importance or not, and she rightly guessed that if Miss Holcroft had been allowed to entertain a mind of her own, she would have been friends with her nephew years before his death. ”

“ You heard me say I was going to see Molly Jenkins? Well, she is a poor lame girl who makes Honiton lace for a livelihood. She cannot move without crutches, and rarely goes out except to take her work to the shop where she sells it, and yet she is one of the brightest souls I know!"
"Oh, I should like to see her work so much, Aunt Mary!" Marigold exclaimed, her tones full of eager interest, as her thoughts flew to her mother. The little girl's heart swelled at the remembrance. It seemed so unjust that she should be living in affluence whilst her dear mother was toiling hard to keep the home. ”

“ How fresh the air smells! It seems to blow new life into one!"
"Yes," agreed Miss Holcroft, joining them at that moment. "We shall soon have you looking as brown as these two children, Molly! Did you ever see such a pair of gipsies? They are out-of-doors from morning till night."
"We will try to catch you some shrimps when the tide is farther out," Marigold told Molly. "Come along, Muriel. Let us go and ask one of the fishermen what time it will be low water." ”

“ To become a clever woman so that she should be able to earn her own living and assist her mother, was Marigold's one ambition, and she made up her mind to exert herself as much as possible, and do her very best.
Marigold had already been to the afternoon service at the cathedral with one or the other of her aunts on several occasions, but she had never once caught sight of Farmer Jo, although she had always looked about, in hopes of seeing him. ”

“ I believe it is my duty to let you go to Exeter to your aunts, and I want you not to put difficulties in the way. Our path in life is rarely smooth, but we can do much to make things easier, if we make up our minds to be cheerful, and contented with our lot. Let God choose. He will show you the way to go, stand by your side, and help you over all difficulties, if you humbly trust in Him. You know that, Marigold? ”

“ Miss Pamela exclaimed. "No doubt the mother chose it! Marigold, indeed!"
"Well, well," in conciliatory tones, "I have an idea she will be a nice little girl. I cannot help feeling we have undertaken a very great responsibility in removing the child from her mother's care, and I hope God will guide us how to bring her up so that she may become a good woman. I trust she will prove docile and sweet-tempered." ”