JOE'S FIRST EARNINGS;
OR,
THE WICKEDEST WEED OF ALL,
BY
RUTH LAMB,
AUTHOR OF
“Katie Brigutsipe,†“TuouGiurrut Jou,†ure.
LONDON:
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY,
"56 PATERNOSTER Row, AND 65 ST. Pauu’s CHURCHYARD,
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A Canprpats ror WorK ... eae O00 eo
UU, A Visit ro Mornuer’s Corrace ... nee Boe ale
III. Harrier PRosrEcts ... as nae aa Baas Vay
IV. Tuat WicKkEDEST WEED ... en ioe S00 OB
V. Mas. Wintert at Home with wer Frienps ... 44
VI. Mrs, Wituert’s New Treasures ... BA ReueaO
VII. Trovupie in tHe Nursrry ... in ase wee GO
VII. Heant WErpine boO tee ee aa Soe 00)
JOE’S FIRST EARNINGS.
CHAPTER I.
A CANDIDATE FOR WORK.
Fins. Sranpine’s lawn was the pride of her
heart, and well it might be. It was no
“mere patch of grass, but a wide ex-
panse of velvety turf, enclosed by grand trees and
shrubs, and adorned with other fine specimens
dotted up and down upon it.
You might shelter from the hot sun beneath
a weeping-ash, which was a bower in itself, If
you were miles away in one direction, you could
see the giant wellingtonia, towering high above
the other trees like a landmark to guide you
back to Mrs. Standing’s.
You could revel in the glorious colour of the
great copper beeches, or the lesser but equally
bright-hued golden yews. As to room, you could
play any game you chose, and with space to spare.
Mrs. Standing’s great wish was to see her
4 Joes first Earnings.
lawn without a single weed, but it was no easy
matter to manage this. It might be free one
day, but very soon after, as the grass grew the
weeds grew also to be an eye-sore to Mrs. Stand-
ing, and to cause new work for gardeners.
It was no uncommon thing for a caller to
surprise Mrs. Standing in her sun-bonnet and
gloves, and with a sharp tool that went down to
the roots, working away on her knees, to turn
out the intruders. She would rise to greet the
visitor, her sweet face rosy and flushed with
bending over the grass, and as she drew a little
white hand from the strong glove that protected
it, she would say—
“Tam battling with the weeds again, you see.
The gardener tries all sorts of things, but unless
I help or superintend, they are never kept down
for long.â€
It was on one of these occasions that Mrs.
Standing became aware of the presence of a
curly-headed, honest-faced lad, who stood, cap
in hand, as if wanting to speak to her, but afraid
to intrude.
“Who are you, my boy? What do you
want?†she asked.
“Tm Joe Coppuck, ma’am. And please I
want to help you to weed.â€
“Joe Coppuck. Let me see. Who is your
mother ?â€
““ We’ve come fresh to Ashley, because mother
once lived here when she was little. And she
>
L
A Candidate for Work. 5
takes in washing, only she can’t get enough to
do; and father’s dead, and there’s six of us. I’m
ten years old, and I’m eldest.â€
Such a sad story told in so few words. A
tale of widowhood, with a houseful of helpless
mites to be fed by one pair of hands working
amongst soapsuds.
** And how old is the youngest ?†asked Mrs.
Standing, with a pitiful look at Joe, whose face
assumed a more hopeful one from the mere fact
of gaining a hearing.
‘Please, ma’am, just a year old—a girl, and
it’s twins.â€
“Two baby girls, do you mean? Twins a
_ year old!â€
“Yes, ma’am. Minnie and Jeannie.â€
The sorrowful picture widened and darkened,
and Mrs. Standing’s heart was stirred as she
~ listened. More inquiries followed, and she was
soon acquainted with the family history, so far
as Joe could tell it.
Beginning at the lowest step of the ladder, he
described the twins, and was just as proudly
eloquent on the subject of their blue eyes and
sunshiny hair, as if every golden lock were
golden coin and a source of wealth to the house-
hold generally.
“They are so pretty,†said Joe. ‘“ Every-
body says they are real pictures, and they are
ever so good. They hardly ever cry. They are
always wanting me, and they pull my hair
39
6 Foes First Earnings.
because it’s curly too. But, bless you, ma’am, I
like it. They don’t hurt, and it’s good fun for
them and me too. I pull faces as if I were going
to cry, just to make believe, but they are so
sharp they know I’m not, and they laugh till
they fair chink again.â€
The family history seemed likely to occupy
much time in the telling, and Mrs. Standing
was on the point of suggesting that Joe should
call again in the morning, but her friend whis-
pered, “Do let the boy tell his tale—I like to
listen.â€
So Mrs. Standing found that, after the twins,
came. Tom, who was three, and a bit a’dacious
for his years; next Ned, who was fine and quiet
because of being lame through a fall he got
when a baby. Then there was ‘Liza, seven;
and, lastly, Joe himself. :
“There was another between "Liza and me,â€
said Joe, “but he died before father did. That’s
how I’m so much older than the others. I’m
the only one big enough to work, though Liza
helps mother all she can. She runs errands,
and reaches and fetches and dresses the three
least, and takes them out and puts them to
bed, too, if mother’s busy. She’s very handy,
is "Liza. Ned can do for himself pretty well, for
he’s five, turned, and he helps in a way, for he
plays with two of the little ones, or minds them
when ‘Liza is washing the othev.â€
Joe was anxious to be very exact in hig
A Candidate for Work. i
statements, for he corrected them a little by
saying that, ‘O’ course mother didn’t leave all
this for Liza to do every day. It’s turn about
like, according to the washing.â€
“Has your mother nothing but what she gets
by her washing?†asked Mrs. Standing.
“Not a penny piece, ma’am. She'll tell you
so herself, if you ask her,†replied Joe, earnestly.
“That’s what makes me want to help weed, -
if I may. Won’t you give me a job, ma’am?
T’ll work real hard, and you shall pay me what
you think I earn. I can’t say fairer than that.â€
‘‘T can hardly say ‘yes’ to you, and I do not
want to say ‘no,’†responded Mrs. Standing, who
stood in some awe of her head-gardener, and
felt that she must have his consent before em-
ploying a new hand. He was apt to look severe.
when he found his mistress ‘‘ working like a
common labourer.â€
‘Tt ain’t becoming for gentlefolks to demean
themselves in that way, much less for a lady to
be grubbing about and pulling up weeds from
her lawn. If she was set to do it for a few
coppers a day, and had to stick hard at it from
gix to six, with only meal-times off, she wouldn’t
be so keen of weeding. But it’s the way with
ladies nowadays. They will have their fingers
in every pie, if it’s even a mud one, and all the
while there are men and to spare for all sorts
of work, and wanting it too, to keep the pot
boiling at home,†grumbled Potter.
8 oes First Earnings,
o
Mrs. Standing was not troubled by these re-
marks. So far from taking bread out of any-
body’s cupboard, she was always ready to use
her ample means in order to store it with
necessaries and comforts. If she became aware
of hungry little ones calling for food, she was
the first to fill the little gaping mouths, and
cheer mothers’ hearts by kind words. So she
laughed at Potter, and grubbed on to her own
content.
Mrs. Standing was hesitating what course to
take with regard to employing Joe Coppuck
when Potter came in sight, and to him ghe
appealed.
‘Potter, here is a boy
“T perceive him, madam,†responded Potter,
without allowing his mistress to finish, and as
if he thought that her pointing out Joe was an
insult to his eyesight.
“Te wants to get work.â€
“There are several boys who have spoken to
me on the subject, madam, seeing they wished
for temp’r’y work in the gardens. They were
also boys I knew something about—which is not
the case with this one.â€
Potter meant to be very severe on his mis-
tress, and he managed to make himself under-
stood, for she knew that the sentence might be
interpreted thus: ‘“‘The boy had no business to
come to you. JZ was the person to be spoken
to, and the omission is an insult. The boy is
3
A Candidate for Work. 9
a stranger, and to be looked at with suspicion.
I should have sent him about his business
without staying to parley with him.â€
“The lad is very anxious to earn something,
for his mother is poor, and a widow, with five
other quite little children,†said Mrs. Standing.
“T wish to help him if I can.â€
Potter started on another tack, or rather he
stood perfectly still and made no reply.
“Do you think a job could be found for him,
Potter?â€
‘Not in my department, madam. But I
suppose you would hardly wish me to take a
boy straight into my ’ouses. He may be all
right, but I don’t approve of placing beggar
boys in a position of temptation.â€
“T ain’t a beggar, sir,†said Joe, with an
indignant flash of his dark eyes at Potter, and
then an appealing one at Mrs. Standing. ‘‘ Don’t
you go and think I came to beg, ma’am. You
know yourself I only asked for a weeding job.
Mother would be in a way if she knew that
that gentleman had taken me for a beggar
boy. We’ve been brought up different from that.
And if I was putin a house I shouldn’t meddle
with what didn’t belong to me—no, not if I was
starving.â€
Probably Potter was softened by Joe’s allu-
sion to him as “that gentleman.’ Anyway
he condescended to speak to the lad, though in
a very patronising tone.
10 Joe's First Earnings.
““There’s something more wanted in a green-
house or a hot-house than for a boy to know
how to let things alone. I’ve said already that
Ihave no need of help in my department, and
if I did, I know where to find it, and of the
right sort. JI can have no objection to your
employing this boy in your department, madam,
if you choose.â€
Potter waved his hand in the direction of the
lawn, as if to say that Mrs. Standing had his
eracious permission to let the boy work on it,
provided always that he was not held respon-
sible for what might follow, and then withdrew,
with much dignity of carriage, to what he called
his department.
The ladies had found it hard work not to laugh
at the gardener’s lofty manner. It was, perhaps,
fortunate for Joe’s future that they did not.
“That is settled so far,†said Mrs. Standing
to her friend, who had heard the conversation.
‘‘T hardly hoped to have got off so well.â€
“Tt was the boy’s own lucky hit which van-
quished Potter. He could not resist the ‘ gentle-
man,Չۉ۪ replied Mrs. Willert, to whom this little
scene had plainly afforded some amusement.
“Then please, ma’am, am I to come and
help weed the lawn?†said Joe, whose anxiety
conquered his patience, though he had meant
to wait for the lady to speak.
“JT will see your mother about it, Joe; and if
I find that she is agreeable, and that you can
A Candidate for Work. et
come without neglecting school, you shall help
in the lawn weeding.â€
“Oh, but please, ma’am, I don’t want mother
to know at first. I do so want to earn a shilling
or two if I can, and surprise her with my wages
when she’s very hard up on a Saturday night.
She always is pretty hard up for money to get
things, but most on Saturdays—because, you
see, ma’am, there’s Sunday to think about. If
you eat as little as ever you can, there’s seven
—counting the babies—and just that many
pieces off a bread loaf make a big hole in it.
Mother often pretends she isn’t hungry, and
takes ever such a little slice when she’s extra
short, but J know what she does it for.â€
There was a quaver in Joe Coppuck’s voice
which was very suggestive of tears to follow;
but he made a brave attempt to stifle them,
and said, as if to himself, that the sun was
“very strong for certain.â€
Joe was a sturdy little chap, who would have
borne pain bravely, and scorned to ery out or
shed a tear on his own account. Where mother
was concerned it was a different affair altogether,
and Joe found it hard work to speak of her trials
without breaking down and having a good ery.
Mrs. Standing laid a gentle hand on the lad’s
shoulder as she said, ‘‘I understand, Joe. You
need not be ashamed of tears that come into
your eyes through loving anxiety on your good
mother’s account. She must have many cares,
2 Foes First Earnings.
with six young mouths to be filled, six little
bodies to clothe, and her own strength to be
kept up, somehow, for their sakes. Perhaps I
may be able to put work into her hands as well
ag yours, At any rate, I will go and see her,
and I will keep your secret.â€
Joe’s face was a picture to behold, the ex-
pression upon it was so hopeful; and he thanked
Mrs. Standing most heartily, even forgetting
his manners to the extent of tossing up his
old cap in the air, and catching it again, to
show his delight. For this he promptly begged
pardon, and stood as before, with it in his hand
in an attitude of respectful attention.
Mrs. Standing had quite decided to employ
the lad, but ways and means had to be discussed.
Joe must spend so many hours at school, and
much contriving and self-denial would have to
be exercised to enable him to earn anything.
He would have to give up his play-hours, which
were liberally allotted; for Mrs. Coppuck, though
very poor, tried to put as much brightness into
her children’s lives as she possibly could.
She said to herself, ‘‘ Poor things! I can give
them little, but I will not rob them of all that
belongs to childhood. They shall have their
youth, and memories of play and playfellows, if
it cost me harder work to give it them.â€
Mrs. Standing and Joe made a calculation,
and thought that eight or ten hours’ weeding
might be done in a week; and for this he was
A Candidate for Work. 13
to be paid at the rate of twopence or threepence
per hour, according to the quality and quantity
of his work.
“You see, Joe, I have taken up many hun-
dreds of weeds myself, and I know how the
work should be done. I dare say you think it
is a very simple, easy matter to pull up the
weeds; but you will find there are two ways of
doing it, and you must be willing to learn the
right one.â€
‘‘T’ll learn this very minute, ma’am, if you'll
please show me,†said Joe, and down he went
on his knees upon the lawn, as an earnest of
his willingness.
“‘T am not quite ready to give you a lesson
now, Joe,†replied Mrs. Standing. ‘‘ Besides,
you will want a tool like mine,†—and she
showed him one, long, narrow, and sharp,
which would pierce to the very roots—‘‘ not
merely your fingers, as you seem to think.â€
Joe sprang to his feet again, looking less
hopeful; but his happiness was restored when
the lady told him he was to come at half-past
four that very afternoon. He made his best
bow and departed, his head full of plans for
mother’s benefit, and his heart of thankfulness
for the success of his mission.
“That’s a kind lady—a real nice lady,†said
Joe to himself, as he sped homeward. ‘I wish
everybody was like her, then things would be
easier for mother and all of us. I expect,
14 Joe's First Earnings.
though, God put it into her mind to speak
kind to a poor lad like me. I had asked Him
to, same as mother does. She has to go asking
and asking, for we want such a lot of things,
and she has nobody else to speak to. She
never asks for all she wants. I expect she feels
a bit ashamed to do, for she mostly asks God
to give us what He knows will do us good and
make us content, if we don’t get all we would .
like to. Anyway, it’s the right thing to thank
God; and I know He made that lady so kind
to me.â€
Accordingly, Joe crept into a little outhouse
adjoining his mother’s cottage, and there, in his
simple fashion, offered his childish thanks-
givings to God for the lady’s kind words, and
the prospect of work by which he might help
the dear ones at home.
—_—_—_
CHAPTER II.
A VISILT TO MOTHER’S COTTAGE.
Fans. Sranpine’s visitor had listened with in-
terest to the talk between her friend and
Joe, and as they turned to enter the
house together, her thoughts were, for once,
more occupied with the real trials of others
than with her own imaginary ones.
Indeed, Mrs. Willert had no real troubles,
og
#4
af
9
A Visit to Mother's Cottage. 15
She was a young wife, whose kind husband
thought nothing too good for her. She had
two lovely children, full of bright spirits, the
outcome of good health, a nurse whom she
could trust to assist in the care of them, a
beautiful home, and plenty of money. Yet she
was often to be found at Mrs. Standing’s with
tales of troubles with her servants, or little
matters that had gone wrong, and which she
magnified into great ones.
Tt wag well for her she had a wise adviser in
her elder friend, who was ever ready to point
out the greater blessings for which she had
to be thankful, and to make light of small
grievances.
“‘ What is it this morning, my dear?†asked
Mrs. Standing when she had disposed of Joe
Coppuck.
“Really I came with quite a list of things I
wanted to tell you about, but some of them
went out of my mind whilst I was listening to
that queer little fellow. He carried you by
storm, he was so much in earnest.â€
‘He drew a picture which touched my heart,
and made me long to help him,†said Mrs.
Standing. “The weeding will only be a
beginning; but I shall try to find something
for the mother, if she proves to be a capable
person.â€
“JT can do that directly, for, amongst other
matters, I wanted to tell you how my laundress
16 Joe's First Earnings.
has served me—given up my work, which she
has had ever since I was married, and gone off
to a place a hundred miles off. She gave me
scarcely any notice,†replied Mrs. Willert.
** Will she not come back soon?â€
“T suppose not. She is a widow, and had
two daughters fairly well married. One of them
died last week, and left a week-old baby and
other children. Of course it was natural the
mother should wish to attend the funeral. I
told her so, and said I would manage without
her whilst she was away, though it would be
very inconvenient if she were long absent. To
my surprise she turned round and said—
*** You will have to do without me altogether,
ma’am, since this has happened. It is a sore
trouble for me to lose my daughter. I had not
seen her for nearly a year, and that makes worse
of it. However, I must do what I can for those
she has left—and there are four of them, poor
things! My son-in-law is nearly. heartbroken,
and he begs I will go to him, for he has nobody
else to look to in his trouble but me.’
“T tried my best to persuade the woman that
she had better not give up her home and her
regular work for what might not be a certainty,
since the man would be sure to get married
again, but she seemed quite vexed at me for
hinting at such a thing. She told me she was
not thinking of what might be at some future
time, but of what was her plain duty at the
A Visit to Mother's Cottage. 17
present; and she is gone, of course. It is
vexing. She suited me so well, too. If only
I could have had a fortnight’s notice, I might
haye arranged with some one else, and never
-felt the loss of her at all.â€
“Poor woman! Her far greater trouble came
upon her without any notice,†said Mrs. Stand-
ing. ‘Think what it must have been to her to
receive such news when, no doubt, she was
looking for happy tidings.â€
“TI dare say it would be a shock; but I
_ + Searcely think these poor people feel things as
you and I do, for instance,†replied Mrs. Willert,
quite satisfied as to her own tender-heartedness.
--Yet all the while she was caring only for self,
‘and had no sympathy to spare for the sorrowing
parent and the motherless children.
‘Joe Coppuck seemed pretty anxious about
his belongings, and he is poor enough. And
surely this poor laundress must have felt very
deeply for hers, since she was ready to give up
home, employment, everything, that she might
carry help and comfort to her son-in-law and
his little ones. She was not driven from her
purpose even by your prophecy that he would
marry again one of these days, and that she
would have to make a fresh start. It was her
present duty she saw before her, and she deter-
mined to do it, and leave the future in God’s
hands. Surely, dear Elma, you will not say that
this good woman’s feelings were not of a high
B
18 Yoes First Earnings.
order. She only forgot one person in carrying
out her plans.â€
‘And that was myself,†said Mrs. Willert,
rather sharply.
“No, it was herself. She gave up her rest, as
well as her employment and her home. In
going amongst these little creatures, including
the baby of a few days old, she must face
anxiety, watchfulness, broken rest—the renewed
cares of motherhood at an age when such cares
are usually over. If we look around us we shall
be constantly seeing such beautiful examples of
tenderness and unselfishness amongst the poor,
both old and young, that we shall feel ashamed
of some of our deputy good-doing. I often do,
believe me.â€
«What do you mean by deputy good-doing ?â€
asked Mrs. Willert.
«Why, that we, to whom God has given
enough and to spare, can do so many helpful
things for others without any effort beyond that
of putting our hands in our pockets, whilst these
poor folk, who have no money to give, bestow
work when they are already tired with a day’s
toil; they watch when their eyes are heavy with
weariness; they do not hesitate to take from
their own lips part of the meal that is none too
much for one, in order that a second may be
spared the pangs of starvation. Elma, dear, if
you knew them better, you would *not think
that for people to be poor means to be selfish
ae
A Visit to Mother's Cottage. 19
or less feeling than their more favoured neigh-
bours.â€â€™
Mrs. Willert looked annoyed, rather than
touched, by her friend’s words.
“You certainly know more of such people
than I do,†she said. ‘I have never had any
inclination to go grubbing about in lanes, poking
my head into hovels, or kissing dirty babies. I
leave work of that kind to those whose business
if is, such as the parsons and visitors, whose
taste lies in that direction. But I am ready to
help in the deputy good-doing way, as you call
it; and I am afraid I shall continue to be
satisfied with putting my hand in my pocket.
“And now, dear Mrs. Standing, as you will
see that little weeding-boy again, will you find
out something about the mother, and if she can
get up fine things well? If you are satisfied, I
shall be; and I should be so much obliged, for
this laundry question is at present the greatest
worry I have. If it turn out that this woman
will do, I shall look upon my call this morning as
the luckiest thing—in fact, quite a providence.â€
*‘T will inquire as you wish, and I trust it
may turn out providential for Joe’s mother as
well as for yourself,†replied Mrs. Standing.
Perfectly satisfied that her domestic difficulty
was as good as ended when her friend under-
took to make these inquiries, Mrs. Willert took
her leave, and went home without another
thought for the troubles of her old laundress.
20 Foes Lirst Larnings.
She was likely to meet with another to fill her
place, and, if she suffered no future incon-
venience, it would not matter much to herself.
If she had good work, she cared little by whose
hands it was done.
Shortly before the time appointed, Mrs.
Standing caught sight of Joe Coppuck peeping
between the bars of the gate. He was equally
afraid of being too soon as too late, so he stood
waiting until a clock in the stable turret chimed
the half-hour, and then passed into the grounds,
where Mrs. Standing met him.
‘* Now, Joe, I will show you how I work,†she
said, and she gave him a lesson in the use of
the tool with which she provided him. She
showed him how he must be careful to remove
each root entirely, or the weed would spring
again; how to avoid making unsightly holes,
and to press down the grass neatly, if he were
obliged to disturb it a little.
“‘T have tried several boys before,†said Mrs.
Standing, “but I have never yet found one who
had patience for this work. They were in too
great a hurry, and, in removing weeds, removed
grass and soil, so as to spoil the appearance
of my lawn. A garden-bed is quite different.
There you can clear away the weeds wholesale,
only avoiding the other plants; and if you
disturb the soil, the earth can be nicely tidied
up with the rake afterwards. On the lawn
you have two things to think of—the removal
A Visit to Mother's Cottage. 2a
of weeds, and the preservation of the grass;
and ag the roots are so twisted and matted
together, it is not easy to take away the one
without disturbing the other and leaving bare
places. I shall soon see whether you have
patience enough, for, having shown you, I am
going to leave you for an hour or so.
‘“*T must tell you that weeding-boys employed
by the gardener, though older than you, only
get four shillings a week to begin with, working
full time. I pay more, because I want a higher
quality of work, and one that calls for skill,
neatness, painstaking, and patience. I know by
experience how much time it takes to do the
thorough work I want, so mind, Joe, give me
quality, not quantity.â€
Joe made a start, and Mrs. Standing was
pleased at the handy manner in which he used
his tool. Then, having told him on no account
to go beyond a certain mark during her absence,
she left the boy to himself, and went—though
he did not know it—to call at his mother’s
cottage.
Mrs. Standing would not tell Joe that she
was hoping to put work into his mother’s hands,
lest she might prove unsuccessful.
Disappointment is always the harder to bear
if one has been very hopeful beforehand, and it
is especially so to the young.
22 Joes First Earnings.
CHAPTER III.
HAPPIER PROSPECTS.
jue first sight of Joc’s home gave Mrs.
| Standing avery favourable impression.
She had passed it a few weeks before,
when it had been empty for some time, and
had thought what a forlorn, tumble-down place
it was. Now it had been patched up and white-
washed, and no doubt let at a low rent, which
would suit the widow’s narrow means.
But the home-like appearance of the cottage
was owing to womanly hands. Instead of dirt
and disorder, there were now clean window-panes,
well-washed paint, a doorstep that one shrank
from soiling by the tread of a muddy boot, and
the flower-pots on the sill were ruddy and
stainless.
Mrs. Standing also noticed that the bit of
garden had been weeded, and the few remaining
plants made the best of. Some garments, white
as good washing could make them, hung on the
line, and the wash-tub, scrubbed to perfect
purity, was leaning against the end of a little
outhouse.
Mrs. Coppuck answered the door, and a peep
at her and the interior of the cottage fully con-
firmed the good impression conveyed by the out-
side, There was a sound of children’s voices,
Happier Prospects. 23
and through the open door Mrs. Standing saw
‘Liza playing at keeping school, with Ned the
lame, and Tom the A’dacious, as principal
scholars, whilst one of the twins was on her
knee, and the other sitting in a little wicker
chair close by.
What a capable small person she looked, and
how well she managed to rule and amuse her
quartet of still smaller children! It quite
charmed Mrs. Standing to hear her droll ques-
tions, and the still droller answers of her scholars,
whilst the poor home rang with their laughter.
She was indeed so much occupied with this first
glimpse of the flock, that she almost forgot
the pale-faced mother, who stood waiting her
pleasure in the doorway.
‘Pray forgive me,†she said at length.
“Your dear little ones make such a pretty
picture, that in looking at them I am forgetting
my errand. I want to speak to you about some
laundry work.â€
The widow’s face brightened at the allusion to
her children, and she said, ‘‘They are very
merry and good-tempered, poor things! I feel
so thankful for their health and spirits. Will
you please walk in?â€
She would have led the way into a little room
beyond, but Mrs. Standing begged that she might
remain within sight of the children, and spoke
kindly to each of them before entering into the
laundry question with the mother.
24 Foes first Earnings.
The sunny-faced twins were not shy, and
Minnie and Jeannie each held up a rosy mouth
to kiss the visitor.
The rich widow was childless; the poor one
could only give her little ones the barest bread,
won by the labour of her hands, and yet they
were her treasures, which no amount of gold
would have induced her to part with.
Mrs. Standing’s eyes rested lovingly on the
children, and her thoughts echoed Joe’s opinion
—‘‘they are so pretty.â€â€™ ‘‘ They are dear little
things. Very precious, I am sure, but a great
charge for you now,†she said to the mother.
“And a great comfort too. When I lost my
kind husband, the thought of the children kept
me from giving way to despair. There were six
left me to love, and to love me. I could not sit
down to grieve, for at the best my work would
only keep them from want. I must be up and
doing, early and late, if work could be found to
do. I have often been cast down, but ‘ not for-
saken.’ There has been bread for the children
so far.â€
Mrs. Coppuck could not have added, ‘‘ and for
me,†since she had gone with the scantiest fare
that would enable her to work, that there might
be enough for them. Poor Joe knew all about
this, and grieved at the need for such self-denial
on his mother’s part.
‘‘ Tt ig only work I ask for,†added the widow,
** Work, with strength to do it.â€
flapprer Prospects. 25
‘And I am come to speak about some,â€
replied Mrs. Standing. ‘“‘Can you show me
some samples of fine laundry work, that I may
know whether you are likely to please my friend,
for she is very particular ?â€
“T have a small wash just ready for taking
home,†said the widow, and an inspection of the
articles abundantly satisfied Mrs. Standing of
her proficiency as a clean starcher.
‘I feel sure your work will suit. I will see
my friend, Mrs. Willert, on the way home, and
you can call at her house this evening. Take
my card. Her name and address are on the
back. If the lady gives you her work, you will
have enough to do, and may count on being well
and promptly paid.â€
Mrs. Standing paused, but the widow did not
speak, and in a moment a great sob told the
reason of her silence. She was weeping for
gladness. Then she apologized for her tears,
and said—
“One gets upset even with good news; and
you cannot think how good yours is to me,
ma’am, or how thankful I am for it.â€
It was as well that Mrs. Coppuck recovered
her speech when she did, for five pairs of youth-
ful eyes were turned in her direction as the sound
of that sob reached as many juvenile ears.
"Liza and Ned, not having caught Mrs. Stand-
ing’s words, were alarmed at their effect on the
mother, and became grave and frightened,
26 Foes First Earnings.
The blue eyes of the twins were fixed with
looks of inquiry on "Liza, and seemed ready to
fill with tears on the chance of there being
something amiss.
As to Tom the A’dacious, he consulted
nobody’s face for a guiding or warning glance,
but made up his three-year-old mind that the
lady visitor was at the bottom of the trouble,
whatever it might be, and acted accordingly.
Springing from his stool, he made a dash at Mrs.
Standing, and having given her as vigorous a
blow as his fist was capable of, shouted—
“You go way, naughty lady! You’ve maked
my muvver cry.â€
There was a dash at Tom, not from ‘Liza,
whose arms were occupied, or Ned the lame,
who could not move quickly enough. Mother,
or ‘‘muvver,†as he called her, was going to
seize him, but Mrs. Standing herself captured
her sturdy assailant, and lifted him on to her
knee.
“See, little man,†she said, ‘‘ muvver is not
crying now. I would not hurt her. I want her
to be glad. Always stand up for mother, chil-
dren. No one loves youas she does. You know
that.â€
“Only God,†said ’Liza and the lame boy,
very gravely; and ‘ Only God,†echoed the mite,
whom Mrs. Standing’s arm encircled, though he
could understand little if any of the gloeue
truth—“ God is love.â€
flappier Prospects. 27
“Poor things!†said the widow. ‘‘ They
need to have the thought that God loves and
cares for them put into their minds whilst they
are little. They may not know quite what it
means, but where children have only one in this
world to look to, it comforts them to be able to
say, ‘God loves me. God cares for me. He
sees me when mother is away, and He never
forgets. Mother says so.’
“Tf a mother loves her children dearly, and
they know it, they believe her even when they
cannot understand, and it is wonderful how a
mother’s words stick to a child’s memory; so I
say to myself, ‘If I can only put the words
there, God will make the meaning plain in His
good time and way.’â€
“Tf I had children to train I should do the
same,†said Mrs. Standing. She sighed as she
put down the a’dacious one, after an exchange
of kisses, and led him to “Liza’s side. Then
there was a little whispering, a closing of small
fists over something transferred to each by the
lady, and thanks and glad looks all round from
‘the little people according to their powers of
speech.
Mrs. Coppuck repeated her acknowledgments,
and asked, ‘‘ Will you please tell me how you
heard of me, and of my wanting work,
ma’am ?â€
“Tt was through a great friend of yours. One
who spoke very warmly in your favour,†replied
28 Joe's First Earnings.
Mrs. Standing. ‘I must not mention the name
at present.â€
“‘T did not think I had such a one. Maybe
you will thank the friend for me, if I may not
know.â€
Mrs. Standing promised, and went her way.
As soon as the door closed behind her, each
childish hand was unclasped and extended, the
twins by their elders, and on each palm Mrs.
Coppuck saw a bright shilling.
“Tt was the lady gave them,†said the two
eldest, and ‘‘ Lady gave them,†echoed Tom.
“She asked what we did with our money
when we had any,†said Liza.
“Had any!†echoed the A’dacious one, proudly
eyeing his shilling.
““We said we should give it to mother,†put
in Ned.
“To muvver,†repeated the echo, and then
the shillings were dropped in a little shower on
to mother’s lap, the twins tossing in theirs with
a shout of baby laughter, as if this were a new
game invented for their amusement.
Then five pennies were produced, and ’Liza
explained their appearance by saying, ‘“ The
lady gave me these that we might have one
apiece, all to ourselves, to buy something.â€
‘Buy somefin’,†shouted the A’dacious, and
made a rush for his hat, that no time might be
lost.
“Ah, that lady understands little folks,†said
cp
Happier Prospects. 29
Mrs. Goppuck. ‘It does seem hard on children
to give up their presents, even though the money
may all be spent on them, poor things!â€
Poo’ fings,†said the little echo as usual,
yet evidently wondering that children with
pennies to spend could be spoken of as poor
things. He was feeling very rich indeed. So,
too, was his mother, and very thankful.
Mrs. Standing had an idea that her little gift
would be very welcome, but she did not know
how heavy a load of anxiety she had lifted from
the poor widow’s mind by its bestowal. But
for it, the children must have wanted a meal
until the mother had carried home her work and
received payment. It replenished the empty
cupboard, whilst the hope of future employment
cheered Mrs. Coppuck’s heart.
“Tt seems I have a friend I did not know of,â€
she thought. “But the best Friend of all has
sent me the present help, and the promise of
work. They have come from Him, though this
kind lady brought them. May God bless and
reward her. She was so pleasant and kind about
it alltoo. Dear, dear, how a gentle voice and a
face with such a sweet smile on it do make the
money seem twice as much! And how good it
was of her to notice the children, and give them
the pence. They shall spend them. "Liza will
take care that they don’t waste the money.â€
Accordingly there was a tying on of head-gear,
and whilst Mrs. Coppuck minded the twins, "Liza
30 foe's First Earnings.
went off with Ned and Tom to invest the coppers.
By mutual consent one penny was dedicated to
toffee, the remainder spent on more substantial
food, so that, taking into consideration the delight
of the children, that shopping excursion gave
great pleasure at little cost.
Mrs. Standing had told Joe to leave his weeding
and go home if she did not return within the
hour. However anxious he might be to help hig
mother by earning money, he must on no
account make her uneasy by staying beyond the
time at which she expected him.
Joe would have liked to work longer, and to
see the lady before he left. A word of approval
from her would have been very precious; and
beside, she was to settle whether he was worth
twopence or threepence an hour. But Joe was
used to obey, and when the turret-clock struck
the hour he prepared to go home.
Mrs. Standing had bidden the lad to put the
weeds in a heap, and not to carry them to the
rubbish place. He had been trained in tidy
ways, and it went rather against the grain to
leave the weeds heaped up near a tree on the
lawn. He did not know that it was by these
that the value of his work would be tested, and
not by the space of ground he had gone over.
He looked at the latter rather ruefully, for he had
not weeded quite half the piece marked out by
Mrs. Standing.
“I wonder what she will say about it,†thought
i
flappier Prospects. 31
he. ‘When I began I expected I should do all
that easy, for it only looked a little bit, and it
seemed almost clean of weeds at the start. But
my! There was a lot of them when you came
to look closer. Little ones you could hardly
see peeping between the grass, and that worst
weed of all, that just pops out now and then, and
stretches out its roots like arms from one piece
to another.
“IT can’t abear that one. It’s what I call a
sneaking sort of weed, that hides under the
others deep down, twists itself in and out among
"em, and just shows itself here and there. It’s
doing no end o’ mischief underneath, strangling
the good grass, and spoiling the looks of it.â€
Mrs. Standing knew this particular weed. It
had caused her great trouble, and so far she had
never been able to get rid of it, owing to its
stealthy growth. When she came home she
inspected Joe’s heap with great satisfaction, for
there she saw that a large proportion of it was
made up of this pest of herlawn. The sight told
her a great deal. It spoke of thorough work, and
she said—
‘‘ My new boy has not been contented to take
away the weeds that were plain to all eyes, he
has gone below the surface; and he has chosen
to do a small piece well rather than half-do a
large one.â€
Indeed, the plot which Mrs. Standing had
told Joe not to exceed was a sort of test piece.
32 Fo’s First Earnings.
She knew it was more than could be thoroughly
done in the time, and she wished to find out the
stuff her new helper was made of, and whether
he would work for mere show or not.
“Joe will do,†she said. ‘I have got the boy
I have so long wished to find, and in his mother
I think I have secured the right laundress for
Elma. I hope she will meet the poor woman
pleasantly; but she is too apt to regard those
who work for their bread as mere machines. I
think if she could have seen those sweet children
she—a mother—would have felt for them.â€
When Joe reached home he had a wonderful
story to listen to. The little people were excited
beyond measure by the visit of the beautiful
lady who had given them white money and
pennies. They showed their purchases, of which
shares had been set aside for Joe and mother,
and could not say enough about the visitor, who
had come a stranger and proved so kind a friend.
Mrs. Coppuck told the boy of her new prospects,
and said, ‘I wonder who can have recommended
me. The lady said it was a great friend of mine.
Surely it must have been some one who re-
membered me as a girl, and felt sorry for me
now. I did not think I had such a friend left in
Ashley.â€
It was not easy for Joe to hold his tongue,
seeing that it was through him that Mrs.
Standing’ 8 interest had been : awakened. -Buthe
could not tell his mother this without betraying
Lhat Wickedest Weed. 33
his other secret, and that must not be revealed
until he could come proudly home with his
earnings and place them in her hands.
He was obliged to tell somebody, so he and
‘Liza had a little whispering together, apart
from the rest.
The mother noted their important looks, and
was thankful that they were glad ones also.
She could trust her children. Happy mother!
CHAPTER IY.
THAT WICKEDEST WEED.
rs. WinLERT was seated in her pretty
drawing- “room, and, with her husband,
was enjoying the society of two or three
friends who had come in unexpectedly, when a
servant entered and handed her a card, saying
. as she did so, ‘The person who brought it is
waiting, and says, will you please to see her
about the washing ?
“T see. She is from Mrs. Standing. That
weeding-boy’s mother, I suppose. What a
nuisance! As if it could be pleasant to have
such people coming in the evening! Tell the
woman to call in the morning.â€
“Shall.I say any particular time, ma’am ?â€
asked the servant.
34 Foes First Earnings.
“Why not see the woman now, Elma?†said
Mr. Willert, who had heard the message. ‘I
am sure our friend will excuse you for the short
time that you will be absent. You know this
laundress question has been troubling you all
day, and I should think if Mrs. Standing has
sent this person, you are likely to be relieved of
future anxiety.â€
“Tt is just because I have been troubled all
the day that I wished to enjoy my evening in
peace,†was the pettish reply. ‘‘ These people
are so inconsiderate.â€
“The woman said Mrs. Standing told her to
be sure and call to-night, ma’am,†said the
servant.
‘*No doubt she wished to set your mind at
rest on this vexed question, Elma. It was like
our friend to act so promptly,†interposed Mr.
Willert.
“T suppose I must see her,†said his wife, and
then left the room with anything but a pleasant
expression on her face. At the same time she
was fully aware that had she not met with a
laundress, her household would have been much
inconvenienced.
Mrs. Coppuck was standing beside the basket
in which she had brought some of her work to
show, and she thought what a pretty lady Mrs.
Willert looked in her handsome evening dress,
and with glittering rings on her white fingers.
Everything about her spoke of wealth, and yet
That Wickedest Weed. a
the look of annoyance on her face seemed to
spoil all the rest.
No pleasant greeting came from Mrs. Willert’s
lips, and her voice had quite a sharp ring in it
as she said—
“Tt would have been better to call in the
morning. I was engaged with visitors.â€
“I would have gladly come in the morning,
ma’am, but the lady said I must call to- night,
I have some things with me if you will please
to look at them.â€
Mrs. Willert gave a careless glance at the
contents of the basket, but even that showed her
that they must have passed through clever hands.
However, she was in no mood to praise anything.
““T suppose Mrs. Standing saw them,†she
said. “If she is satisfied, I will employ you.
One can scarcely judge of the colour of linen
by gaslight.â€
“Tt was the ironing I thought you might
notice,†said the widow. ‘But if you would
like me to call again, I will be here at any hour
you name. I think I can satisfy you, ma’am.
If you wish anything done different from my
regular way, I am willing to be told.â€
“I do not want to have to tell people I employ
how to do their work,†replied Mrs. Willert,
sharply.
The words and tone pained the widow, but
she made no answer, only waited patiently for
the lady’s decision.
36 Foes First Earnings.
Perhaps Mrs. Willert felt a little self-re-
proached as she glanced at the quiet figure,
so neat and respectable looking, though her
black gown was of very poor material—such a
contrast to her own costly dress.
In gentler tones she said to the widow, “I
will give you a trial. You had better take home
your work, and call for my linen on the way
back. It shall be ready.â€
Then she turned away without another word,
and directly afterwards told one of her guests—
also a young wife—how fortunate she felt herself
in having secured a laundress whose work was
simply perfect.
‘‘T had been so worried about losing my old
one; and, after all, I believe I shall be the
gainer,†she said, and she launched out into
praises of Mrs. Coppuck’s good ironing, and her
own good fortune in meeting with her.
“‘T should be glad to hear of such a person,â€
said the visitor. ‘‘ Could she undertake more,
do you think ?â€
‘‘T believe not,†was the quick reply, made
with no thought except for self, ‘She has some
work already, and mine will make as much
more as she can do.â€
Mrs. Willert was ever quick to think of what
would tend to her own convenience, and decided
in a moment that it would be better for the
laundress’s time not to be fully occupied, lest
her own interests might suffer.
That Wickedest Weed. a7
Mrs. Coppuck went home laden, and most
thankful at the thought, ‘If my health do not
fail me, my children’s bread is safe. The lady
shall have no fault to find. But how different
she is from the one that called here! It would
have been very nice to hear that pretty young
lady say that the ironing was well done, any-
way, and for her to give me a ‘ good-night’ as she
turned to go.â€
Then Mrs. Coppuck wondered a little—as well
she might—that some real gentlefolks, who lived
in fine houses, and had beautiful clothes and
everything that money could buy, seemed to
keep all their best manners for grand people
like themselves, and had none to spare for their
poorer neighbours.
She was consoled, however, when her thoughts
went back to the afternoon, and she pictured
Mrs. Standing amongst her own little ones at
the cottage.
“They're not all alike,†she said to herself.
‘She brought sunshine with her, and left a lot
behind. May God bless and reward her for her
kindness.â€
It was not merely a wish, but an earnest
prayer that went up from the widow’s heart to
. Him who hears and answers.
There was joy at the cottage when Mrs.
Coppuck returned with her bundle and her
good news; naturally, more whispering fol-
lowed between Joe and ‘Liza. The former
38 Joe's First Earnings.
was delighted beyond measure, and said to his
sister—
“Tam glad I spoke up for mother. I dursn’t
have done, only the lady had such a kind face,
and listened quiet and patient when I told her
about poor father being dead and—everything.â€
There was just one drawback to the lad’s
satisfaction, and he was half ashamed of allow-
ing himself to think about it. When mother
began her extra work, was it likely she would
allow him so much time for play? It had been
80 pleasant to look forward to learning some-
thing for her by self-denial, but if his hours
were shortened, farewell to any hope of that kind.
Joe fought a stout battle with himself before
he could honestly say, “I must help mother in
the way she thinks best, and that will save her
most trouble, though I should like to keep on
working for that nice lady.â€
However, Mrs. Coppuck had not yet more
than she could do without further help from
Joe, and he was able to be at Mrs. Standing’s
again on the following day.
The lady met him with a pleasant smile and
the words, ‘‘ Well, Joe, I am satisfied with your
yesterday’s weeding.â€
‘1 would ha’ liked to do a bigger piece, but I
couldn’t,†said Joe.
‘“‘Tam glad you did not try. Better a small
piece done well than a large one half done. It
is to be threepence an hour, Joe.â€
s
| ae :
That Wruckedest Weed. 39
Up went Joe’s old cap again—he could not
help it; and as Mrs. Standing’s smile broadened
into a merry laugh, it reassured him, though he
hastened to say, ‘‘I beg your pardon, ma’am, ’m
forgetting my manners again ; but I am so glad.
And mother is that set up about getting the other
lady’s washing to do, you can’t think. You are
good, and I will take pains with the weeding,â€
cried Joe, in a burst of enthusiastic gratitude.
To it he went without further waste of time,
and proved his sincerity by his careful, steady
work.
In due time he carried home his first real
wages in the shape of two shillings, polished
to the utmost by rubbing on the cuffs of his
jacket.
After this event Mrs. Coppuck heard from
Mrs. Standing that Joe was the friend to whose
efforts she owed her increased employment. We
may be sure she did not value it less on that
account.
It seemed that Joe’s fortunate meeting with
Mrs. Standing was to prove a ces -point in
the family fortunes.
Mrs. Willert was well pleased with her new
. laundress, though she carefully abstained from
saying as much, lest she should become less
painstaking in consequence. Indeed, she went
rather out of her way to find a little fault, and
gaid to her husband, “It is better to keep these
people well up to their work. If they think that
40 Joe's First Earnings.
you value them highly, they are certain to give
themselves airs sooner or later.â€
Mrs. Willert might have recommended Mrs.
Coppuck to friends, but she did not for reasons
—very selfish ones—already mentioned. Mrs.
Standing, however, found out that the widow
would be glad of more work, and obtained it for
her without difficulty. Things began to look
very bright at the cottage, for Mrs. Coppuck’s
employers were prompt payers, and with ready
money in hand, she could make her own pur-
chases to the best advantage.
Mrs. Standing always managed to have a little
talk with Joe, and was never slow to express her
approval of his honest, thorough work.
One day the lad was specially eloquent on the
subject of what he called that ‘‘ wickedest weed
of all.â€
“ Here he is again,†said he, “ poking himself
through as fresh as ever. I did think I had done
for him as far as I’d gone; but you never know
where he'll turn up next.â€
Joe looked ruefully at that weed as he held up
a fresh specimen for Mrs. Standing’s inspection.
It seemed to him a special aggravation that it
should have dared to show itself on the very spot
with which he had taken such pains. It was a
sort of reproach to himself—a reflection on the
thoroughness of his work ; and if he had been in
the employ of any one but Mrs. Standing, he
would have been afraid of blame,
i]
That Wackedest Weed. Al
‘*T know that weed only too well, Joe,†she said.
“Tt has been a plague to me for years. Many a
time I have thought my lawn free from it, but it
has always cropped up again. But you and I
must go on battling against it, and I think we
shall win at last.â€
Joe gave a little confidential nod, and was
comforted. There was a fellow-feeling between
him and Mrs. Standing, for experience enabled
her torealise the difficultieshe had tofight against.
“‘T told mother about that weed, ma’am,†said
Joe, after a short pause. ‘She says it’s like
bad thoughts, that keep coming and coming into
one’s mind till they set us doing bad things.
The thoughts are right away out of sight, like
this sneaking weed—Ugh! I can’t bear him—
and in a while they show outside in our ways, as
it does up and down among the grass. They
spoil our lives, like the weed spoils the lawn.
That’s what mother thinks.â€
Mrs. Standing was fond of drawing out her
young helper, and encouraged him to express his
own views and repeat his mother’s teaching. So
she replied, ‘‘ I suppose your mother would think
each of these weeds was like some sin, seeing
they all help to spoil the grass, and everything
we do wrong does harm both to ourselves and
other people.â€
“That’s just what she did say. She’s always
trying to teach us something whilst she’s ironing,
or mending our things—any time when it’s quiet
42 Joe's Lirst Earnings.
enough. She says that we have all sins enough
to battle against, but each of us has mostly one
that is worse than the others. She said a verse
out of the Bible about it, but I can’t remember
all the words, only that there was something
about running init. Heruns fast enough,†added
Joe, holding up another sample of that wickcdest
weed which he had just extracted.
‘Was this the text, Joe?†asked Mrs. Stand-
ing: ‘‘ Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin
which doth so easily beset us, and let us run
with patience the race that is set before us,
looking unto Jesus.’ â€
“That was it,†said Joe. ‘It’s not so easy to
remember as some of them, and mother said the
little ones would not take it in. But she made
it pretty plain too. She told us that there’s
always one bad thing we’re more inclined to do
than we are other bad ones. It isn’t the same
with everybody, but that it is like my wickedest
weed here—it comes up oftenest and tries you
hardest.â€
Joe gave a desperate tug at a sample with an
uncommonly long root, and drew it out in
triumph.
“Wait a minute, Joe, so that you may tell
me the rest of your mother’s words. You have
a good teacher, and I like to hear you repeat her
lessons.â€
The boy’s face flushed with pleasure, and he
went on—
we
That Wickedest Weed. 43
‘‘ Mother said p’raps one boy’s wickedest weed
that came out oftenest might be idleness. Then
he’d be making all sorts of shifts to keep from
his work, though he was able to doit. Anothex’s
_ might be a bad temper, then he'd be flying into
passions when he’d no occasion, and maybe
doing harm to somebody else. Or it might be
not telling the truth, or stealing, or saying bad
words, and lots of things beside. I can’t
remember all, for mother said, when you begin
looking for them, there aresomany. It depended
on a many things which weed—or sin—would
be the worst to stand against and keep down.
“‘ She said, maybe this weed that was wickedest
on your lawn, wouldn’t be worst on everybody’s,
because the ground might not suit it so well.
She was sure this must be the very place for it,
‘or it wouldn’t grow so fast as it does.â€
Joe paused. He had not finished, but he was
afraid of taking up too much of his working time,
and Mrs. Standing guessed this.
“ Anything else, Joe?†she asked. ‘‘ Do not
be afraid to tell me all your lesson.â€
“‘ Well, ma’am, mother said it often happened
‘that a boy that was lazy might be honest, and
neyer think of taking what wasn’t his own, and
‘ another that said bad words might be a hard
worker, and so on.
“That showed that different sins, like different
weeds, weren’t all to be found in the same place ;
but there was pretty sure to be at least one that
44 Joe's First Earnings.
was stronger and harder to get rid of than the
rest. That was it the verse told about, and we'd
got to go at it, and at it, till we turned it out,
not getting impatient if we didn’t conquer it all
at once.â€
“*Tiooking unto Jesus,’—mother would not
leave that out, I am sure,†said Mrs. Standing.
Joe nodded, and dropping down on the grass
again, continued his work.
CHAPTER V.
MRS. WILLERI AT HOME WITH HER FRIENDS.
s Joe was leaving his work after that talk
with Mrs. Standing, he saw Mrs. Willert
approaching the gate, and he waited to
open it for her.
The husband was from home, so she was
coming to spend the evening with her friend.
She was in high good humour, for Mr. Willert
had written to say that he should be home the
next day, and hinted that certain pretty things
for which his wife had expressed a wish, would
come with him.
Mrs. Willert remembered that Joe had amused
her by his plain speaking when he first came
about the weeding, and she thanked him in a
pleasant voice for opening the gate, She even
\
lMyrs. Wrllert at Home. 45
asked after his mother, but did not go the length
of waiting to hear his reply.
‘“‘That’s queer now,†said Joe to himself.
“When mother asks how anybody is, it’s because
she wants to know. If they are well, she looks
as if she was glad to hear it. If they’re not,
and she can do anything to help them or make
them better, she does it. Anyway, she gives a
bit of her time and hears what they have to
say, and tells them she’s sorry, and wishes
them better. That young lady said, ‘ How’s
your mother, Joe?’ but she didn’t want to
know. She was past before I got a word out.
I wonder what she asked for.â€
Joe went his way comparing, and not for the
first time, his mother’s mode of showing interest
in her neighbours and that of the pretty lady.
He came to the conclusion that mother did as
she did because she thought about other people
beside herself, and that Mrs. Willert’s contrary
habit was owing to her having her mind so full
of self that she had no room for anybody else.
And Joe was right.
Mrs. Willert found Mrs. Standing waiting for
her near the door, and at once ran forward, and
in a girlish way clasped her hands round her
friend’s neck, kissed her, said how she had
been reckoning on the most delightfully quiet
evening, asked questions, and—as when speaking
to Joe—never heeded the answers, then ran on
about her husband and children.
46 foes First Earnings.
“The little ones are so well. Percy is proud
of them. He spends so much both on them and
me that I really scold him sometimes. But he
will do it; and he is bringing some beautiful
things with him to-morrow. Iam quite longing
to see them.â€
“And Perey?†asked Mrs. Standing.
“That, of course. But Percy will not require
much looking at, since he is not new to me, as
the thing he is bringing will be. By the way,
that new laundress’s work is perfect. I cannot
’ thank you enough for sending her to me.â€
“Tam glad to hear you say so, for Mrs.
Coppuck herself was rather in trouble when I
last saw her. She was afraid you were not
satisfied. She asked me what she had better
do, for when she mentioned her willingness to
make any alteration in her way of doing things
that might suit you better, you told her you did
not want to have to tell people how to do their
work. Did you send a message of complaint?â€
“Well, yes, I did; but it was the merest
trifle, and really it was more to give the woman
an idea that I noticed things, and to keep her up
to her work, than because there was much to
complain of. I ie
But Mrs. Willert did not go on, for something
in her friend’s look made her blush and hesitate. ©
Mrs. Standing waited quietly and without
speaking for Mrs. Willert to finish, and in a few
moments the latter said—
Mrs. Willert at Home. 47
“You think I was wrong in sending that
message.â€
“Tf you really felt there was nothing to com-
plain about, it was not right to complain. It
made the poor woman very unhappy, for she
had taken very great pains. I thought her
work most beautiful; and I know that she could
have double the quantity of washing she now
has if she would take it.â€
~ “But I really had something to find fault
with. She had goffered some frills which I like
to have pleated.â€
“Had you told her so, Elma?â€
The tell-tale flush spread over the fair young
face as Mrs. Willert answered, “‘No; but I
should have thought the woman’s own sense
would have told her they would look best done
in my way.â€
“That is so entirely a matter of taste, that I
think, dear, it would have been better to tell
Mrs. Coppuck what you wished beforehand.
May I say that you are pleased with her work ?â€
“Certainly; I shall be very glad,†was the
eager reply. “I would not lose my new
laundress on any account. She does her work
as well as the old one did, and charges less.â€
“Have you heard about your old one? Poor
woman! [have often thought of her,†said Mrs.
Standing.
“Heard of her! Why should I? The
Woman was nothing to me. She only worked
48 Foe's First Earnings.
for me. Do you suppose I should ask my
laundress to correspond with me? You might,
perhaps, but not I!â€
*‘T should have liked to know something of
one whom I had long employed, especially as
she went away owing to a great sorrow.â€
‘‘My dear, you trouble yourself so much
about people of that class that your own friends
are jealous of them. Our tastes differ. I pay
my workers well and promptly, but I neither
make friends of them nor go petting their dirty
babies. I have my own darlings, who aye
lovely, clean, and beautifully dressed.â€
The young wife drew herself up with a look
of pride as she spoke of her little ones to the
friend who was widowed and childless. Mrs.
Standing felt a little pang as ‘she contrasted her
present loneliness with bygone days, when she
had her husband and two children, no less fair
than those of her friend. She answered gently—
‘It is because I have had children that my
heart warms to those in poor homes, and I am
so sorry for mothers whose poverty prevents
them from clothing and feeding them properly.
Does not your motherhood stir you to give kind
words as wellas money? I think it was my
being a widow which made me wish to know
something of your old laundress, who had lost
her husband, and which drew me to the cottage
of your new one—Joe Coppuck’s mother. If we
are true Christians, we are ‘members one of
4 ;
Pee She
Mrs. Willert at Home. 49
: another,’ and if one member guffers—as in the
natural body—all the others suffer with it.
_... ‘Tread a little story to-day about a poor
_ Tartar woman who, at the risk of her life,
obtained access to some noble ladies, the
Be _ ptisoners of a Mahommedan chief. One of the
captives asked her what made her run this risk.
She said, ‘I knew you must be very anxious,
and I came to bring you glad tidings. To-
morrow you will be set free and sent home.
You are mothers, you ought to be told.’
“Just that these prisoners might be spared a
few more hours’ anxiety, and have joy instead of
it, this poor woman stole into their prison and
_ Whispered her good news. She had nothing to
* gain, and she might have been found out and
put to death. But she was a mother, and she
felt that between herself and every other mother
there existed a bond of union that no difference
in country or station could affect. They were
in this respect ‘ members one of another.’ â€
“Tt is a very pretty story, dear,†said Mrs.
Willert. ‘ Nevertheless, I am not going to visit
_ Wives in every kind of hovel, just because I am
‘married. Who knows what infection I might
- carry home? And seeing that I have children
to think of, I prefer my own way. Do not be
vexed at me. Go where you choose, only give
me a fair share of your visits.â€
Mrs. Willert looked in a half-laughing, half-
coaxing way at her friend, then added, “I will
D
O oes First Earnings.
o
talk of one of your favourites if you like. I
met your weeding-boy at the gate, which he
opened for me, and I smiled on him in a way
which would have met with your approval. I
should not mind listening to Joe’s talk. He is
amusing.â€
‘He ig more than that sometimes,†said Mrs.
Standing. ‘Shall I tell you what he said this
afternoon ?â€
‘By all means let me benefit by your weed-
ing-boy’s lecture. Iam all attention.â€
Mrs. Standing did not need to be asked twice,
but repeated Joe’s words and the mother’s lesson
to her boy.
«What a queer lad he must be!†said Mrs.
Willert. ‘‘He has set me rummaging to find
my wickedest weed; for of course I have one.
You must help me to find it. Tell me, dear.
Is it vanity ?—I know I like to be admired;
or love of finery ?—for I am always craving for
more pretty things. Still, I hardly think either
of these can be very wicked, because it is so
natural to want people to care for us, and to
desire what is beautiful when we have taste
enough to discern it.
“Perhaps it is laziness, for I am fond of
taking my ease, and doing just as much of any
kind of work as I find quite agreeable to my-
self. But then my idleness finds work for
somebody who wants it, and so the money I
can well spare passes into pockets which might
Mrs. Willert at Home. 51
otherwise be empty. I am afraid there must
be something worse still. Help me to find my
wickedest weed of all.â€
Mrs. Willert looked very pretty as she pro-
fessed to be trying to find out this weed; but
she was not in earnest. She felt no anxiety to
know what was her besetting sin. Her life was
too full of brightness, and she was too well
contented with it and herself to feel any real
concern, though she appeared to be eagerly
waiting for her friend’s reply.
“Tf we want to find our wickedest weeds,
Elma, we must ask that our consciences may be
quickened, and the Divine light of the Holy
Spirit thrown on the ground of our hearts, so
that we may see all that is in it. If we want
strength to uproot the weeds, it will be given,
if we earnestly ask for it, and the ground will
be prepared to receive the good seed instead,â€
said Mrs. Standing.
Mrs. Willert did not answer. She had been
amused by the weeding-boy’s talk, but did not
wish it to be made the text of a sermon, or that
it should occupy more time. So after being
silent for a few moments, she changed the
subject, and began to talk about matters con-
cerning her own plans and pleasures. Her
friend listened and sympathised, hoping the
while that the previous conversation might not
prove altogether fruitless in the future.
52 Foes First Earnings.
CHAPTER YI.
MRS. WILLERI’S NEW TREASURES.
gs. WILLERT’S expectations were more than
fulfilled when her husband returned, so
many beautiful and costly presents did
he bring for her and the children. Perhaps he
was a little disappointed to note how entirely
her attentions were given to these pretty things,
and how quickly she turned from him to them
in order that she might run to her room and
study the effect of some of his gifts before the
looking-glass.
Absence had made Mr. Willert all the more
anxious for his wife’s company, and the thought
crossed his mind, “If mine were quite as dear
to Elma, she would think what I have brought
second in interest to myself, and having looked
at and admired them, be content to lay them
aside for awhile. She is young still to be a
wife and mother. I must not judge her as one
woultan older person. I dare say she will be
eager to show the toys to the children, and
perhaps to try their new finery on them.â€
Mr. Willert was a few years older than his
wife, but he loved to give her pleasure, and was
always disposed to be very indulgent, even to
the faults he could not fail to observe. Hiven
now a glance showed him that love of self came
Mrs. Willer?s New Treasures. 53
before pride in the children, for all the pretty
things he had brought for them were still lying
close at hand. Only articles for her own personal
adornment had been carried away.
Mr. Willert had already seen the children.
He had timed his journey so as to arrive at
home early in the afternoon, thinking he should
hear their merry voices and cries of pleasure
as they took possession of their toys. But after
a welcoming kiss, the little people had been
quickly dismissed in order, as Mrs. Willert said,
that she might have her husband all to herself.
Left alone, he felt inclined to carry the toys to
the nursery, but on second thoughts decided
not to doit. ‘* When Elma has tried the effect
of her treasures, we will go to the children to-
gether, or have them down here again,†he said.
Mrs. Willert soon returned to show him how
well they became her, and her husband, carried
away by the childish delight she manifested,
added his praises, and told her how glad he was
that his gifts were so exactly what she wished
for. He did not know that, whilst standing at
the glass, Mrs. Willert had considered that
Robert might have brought her one or two more
things, which would have made the rest perfect,
if he had not spent so much on the children.
“Shall we have the little ones down now,
Elma?†asked Mr. Willert, when all had been
duly admired.
“T must take these things off again first,â€
oe’s First Earnings.
o
she replied. ‘Do not call for the children yet.
I must be here when they first see the toys.â€
Again Mrs. Willert was some time absent.
It was a trial to remove these new treasures,
and she lingered before the glass to enjoy the
sight of them as long as possible—a little to
her husband’s annoyance, for he wanted his -
youngsters to have their share of enjoyment
as well as to have his wife’s presence, when he
had so lately returned to her. She came at
last, pretty and smiling; and as soon as she
appeared a message was sent for nurse to bring
he children.
“T think they are out, ma’am,†replied the
maid.
“Out!†exclaimed her mistress. ‘Why did
Clayton take them out when I gave her no
orders?â€
The maid did not venture to reply to the
question, though she might have easily said
that, as the children were used to going out
regularly at that hour, the nurse would take them
as usual, unless she had orders to the contrary.
‘“* Better go and see if nurse really has gone
out,†said Mr. Willert.
The girl obeyed, not that she had any doubt
on the matter; but she muttered to herself
as she went to the nursery, “If the missis
had thought a bit more of master and the
children, knowing how fond he was of them,
instead of dizening herself out in all that finery,
Mrs. Willer?s New Treasures. 55
and leaving him all by himself while she was
looking in the glass, it would have been better.
But it’s self first, and other folks anywhere,
with her.†:
The girl had formed a correct opinion of her
mistress’s besetting sin. There was no doubt
that amid many other weeds which grew in the
eround of Mrs. Willert’s heart, selfishness was
her ‘‘ wickedest weed of all,†though she would
have been the last to believe in its presence there.
The maid soon returned, saying, ‘‘ The chil-
dren are out. Clayton took them at four o’clock
—same as she always does when it is fine.â€
Mrs. Willert would have liked to stop her
before she gave the last piece of information,
but the girl spoke quickly and distinctly, and
her master heard every word.
““Ié was very stupid of Clayton,†said Mrs.
Willert. ‘‘She ought to have known better.
You need not wait,’ she added, and the girl
promptly left the room, thinking to herself,
“Anyway, the master knows that Clayton isn’t
to blame. It would have been as much as her
place was worth to stop in without special orders,
when she’s been told always to take the children
out to the minute, at fouro’clock. The mistress
would have liked me to keep that last bit in, but
I got it out quick, so ag master should know all
about it. She didn’t want the children till she’d
tried on all her new things, for master would have
been speaking for them to have their toys first.â€
â€
56 Joes First Earnings.
In the meanwhile Mrs. Willert continued to
blame Clayton for being absent.
“Tt is most provoking,†she said. ‘I know
you are disappointed, dear. It is all that stupid
woman’s fault. You will have to put up with
me alone till your little pets come back. They
will not be long.â€
“Tf Clayton has orders to take the children
out every day at the same hour, we can hardly
blame her, Elma, if you did not tell her to
make an exception this afternoon.â€
“Her own sense, if she has any, might have
told her we should like to have Alick and Clare
with us when you were just at home, and I shall
tell Clayton so when she comes.â€
“T think I would only suggest that, another .
time, if she has a doubt about your wishing the
children to go, it will be better to ask,†replied
Mr. Willert.
He did not know that the servants were often
told that they were expected simply to do their
work in accordance with the rules of the house-
hold, and not to trouble their mistress with
frequent questions when she was otherwise en-
gaged. With them, Mrs. Willert was often as
unreasonable as she had at first shown herself
towards her new laundress, and they would say,
“There’s no knowing what to do. If one asks,
it’s wrong; and if one doesn’t ask, it’s wrong.
The right thing is what nobody ever manages
to hit on, that lives with Mrs. Willert.â€
Mrs, Willerts New Treasures. 57
It seemed that, in spite of the assurance
*‘ they will not be long,†the father would have to
exercise considerable patience before the children
returned. He went in an absent way towards the
window, and sometimes answered at random, as
if, in listening for childish voices, he became in-
sensible to what was passing around him.
If Mr. Willert had noticed his wife’s face, he
would have seen there an expression of anxiety
rather than annoyance. ‘Though she became
evidently uncomfortable at the children’s pro-
longed absence, she said no more about Clayton,
but asked questions relative to her husband's
stay in London, and the friends he met there.
When at length nurse and children made their
appearance, it was fully an hour after their
usual time; and Mrs. Willert rushed to meet
them, closely followed by her husband. Too
closely, for he heard the nurse say, “It is not
my fault, ma’am. The dressmaker was engaged
fitting two ladies, who were there before I was,
and she sent word she could not leave them. I
would have come without seeing her, for the
children got tired and cross; but you told me I
must on no account leave till I had seen madame
herself, and had got the lace you wanted.â€
Clayton gave a little parcel to her mistress,
' whose flushed face and confused manner told no
pleasant tale.
“‘T had quite forgotten about my having told
you to take that message, Clayton, until it
58 Foes First Earnings.
came into my mind when your long absence
made me uneasy. I wish you had come home
with the children. It would have been quite
right to do so under the circumstances. Their
father is impatient to give them some beautiful
toys he has brought with him.â€
‘Tt will be too late, I’m afraid,ma’am. Master
Alick is sleepy and cross, and Miss Clare is just
dead asleep in the perambulator. I doubt if either
will wake up for tea, even; and it will be a pity to
put them to bed without their meal, poor things!â€
“You will do the best you can with them,
Clayton. Perhaps, after all, the new toys would
have excited them and kept them awake. Better
too much sleep than too little.â€
These were the father’s words, and he bent
down and softly kissed each drowsy little one,
then turned back to the drawing-room, followed
by his wife.
‘‘T am so sorry, dear,†she said. “I had
really quite forgotten that I had sent Clayton to
Madame Réné’s. She might have been suro I
should never wish her to keep those tired children
waiting at the dressmaker’s. It was thoughtless
of me not to bear in mind that she was gone
there; but it was too stupid of Clayton to stay.
We will have the dear little ones in very early
in the morning, and they will have the day
before them to enjoy their new treasures. I am
sure it will be much better for the children not
to be excited to-night.â€
2?
e:
Mrs. Willer?'s New Treasures. 59
‘Tt is certainly too late now, Elma.â€
Mr. Willert said no more; but his wife.could
read the signs of disappointment—almost dis-
pleasure—in his very silence. She could not
feel satisfied with herself, and even the thought
of her new possessions did not help to clear away
the cloud which hung over the home that evening.
‘Tt will be all right in the morning,†she
thought. ‘‘Things have gone wrong in a way
I could not have expected; but one cannot re-
member every little matter. Clayton ought to
have known better than to keep those sleepy
children about a milliner’s place until after their
bedtime. Of course, she will sayI told her. to
wait. They are all alike, and are never to blame
for their blunders.â€
Mrs. Willert’s servants might justly have said
that their mistress would never allow that she
had been in the wrong, however plain her fault
might be to others. But they only grumbled to
each other when out of hearing, and wondered that
‘‘master’’ was so patient with his young wife.
‘*He’s like most gentlemen,†said the cook.
“The mistress has such a pretty face, that when
she smiles and coaxes him, she can just twist
him round her little finger. It’s the old and
plain folks that have to answer for what they
do. When a lady becomes her finery, as Mrs.
Willert does, she gets excuses made for her.
The master loves the very ground she treads on.â€
“And the mistress is fond of master and the
60 Jo’s First Earnings.
children,†said another. ‘She’s as proud of
the little ones as can be.â€
“Next to herself. But that makes the differ-
ence between her and master. He puts her
before himself. She puts self first, and him and
the children next.â€
“* People are not all alike.â€
“And a good job too, else, seeing there are
more of the indifferent sort than the real first-
rate ones, we might be having all bad next.â€
“Well,†said the one who had been ready to
bring forward her mistress’s love for her children,
“there’s plenty of faults to mend in all of us.
We're not answerable for the doings of those
that pay us our wages. What we have to do is
to be good servants, and earn them by faithfully
doing our duty in the places God has put us into.
We have a good home, and wages regularly paid.
Let’s be thankful.â€
A bell summoned the speaker, whose sensible
words ended the talk for that time.
—$~———=
CHAPTER VII.
TROUBLE IN THE NURSERY.
s. Witnuert had ordered Clayton to
bring the children to her room as
soon as they were dressed in the morn-
ing; but, instead of the little ones, the nurse
Trouble in the Nursery. 61
came to report that she had been roused before
daylight by the restlessness of her charges.
‘“‘They have not slept since two o’clock, and
they are flushed and fretful now. I think they
are safest in bed,†said Clayton. ‘‘ I should like
you or master to see them as soon as possible.â€
Both parents hastened to the nursery without
loss of time, and looked, with anxious eyes, at
the children. A glance was sufficient to convince
them that something was amiss, and the doctor
was sent for. What the illness was he did not
say, but the servants whispered that it must
be fever of some kind, for a second nurse was
brought in, and every care taken to prevent
infection.
Mrs. Willert did not enter the nursery after
that early visit. She could not do so well for
the little ones as the nurses could, so why run
any needless risk ?
“‘T don’t know whether I had scarlet-fever
as a child,†she said. ‘Such complaints are
always more dangerous to grown-up people
than to the little ones. I must take care of
myself, for my husband’s sake,â€â€”and she did.
Not but what Mrs. Willert was truly anxious
about her children, and no doubt the course
taken was really the best for them. Happily,
the attack proved slight, and in a very few days
all fear of danger was over, and only proper
care needed to prevent after ill-consequences.
Mrs. Standing was not at home when the
62 Foes First Earnings.
little Willerts were taken ill, but immediately
after her return she heard of her friend’s anxiety,
and went to call upon her, in ignorance of the
nature of their complaint. Indeed, Mrs. Willert
had taken the greatest pains to prevent the
word ‘‘fever’’? from being mentioned in con-
nection with it. In all, save one thing, every
means had been used to secure others from the
risk of infection.
“Tf people heard that the children had
scarlatina, however slightly, not a creature
would come near the place for months,†she
said. ‘‘ We should be social outcasts on account
of it, and neither visit our friends, nor be visited
by them. It would be too dreadful. Really,
there is always something to worry one, and
take the pleasure out of one’s life.â€
‘Do you not think, Elma dear, that if we
look on the other side, we shall see more to be
thankful for than to complain of?†said Mr.
Willert. ‘The children are doing as well as
possible. Think what it would have been had
the case been otherwise, and these precious
lives in danger.â€
“T know all that; and, of course, I am as
glad as you are, but it would have been much
better still if they had kept well. My feeling is
that you and I should go away for a week or
two, as we know that Alick and Clare are in
good hands, and doing well. If I were seeing
them, it would be different, you know. Then,
J
Trouble in the Nursery. 63
as soon as the doctor would give leave for them
to be removed, we would have a cottage for
them and the nurses near the sea. Our house,
at least the nursery part, could be re-papered
and painted, and we could all come back to it
together.â€
To tell the truth, Mrs. Willert’s mind, being
relieved on the children’s account, was running
on the many beautiful things which were lying
hidden and useless. Half of their charm and
value was taken away if they could not be
displayed before the admiring eyes of others.
It would be really delightful—quite a providence,
in fact—if Mr. Willert would go to Scarborough,
for instance. They could hear from home every
day, and if the smallest thing went wrong could
be summoned by telegraph.
But Mr. Willert would not be persuaded to
leave the neighbourhood of his little ones. He was
equally gentle and firm on this point, saying—
“Hilma dear, if you prefer to do so, you
shall go to your mother’s until the cottage plan
can be carried out for the children. When,
however, they are well enough to leave home, I
shall still wish to be near them—for a short
time, at any rate. Afterwards, I hope we may
have an enjoyable tour together.â€
‘J would rather stay here than go to my
mother’s, and without you. She is an invalid,
and sees almost no company. I should be
dreadfully dull there. Do not mention such a
64 Foes First Earnings.
visit for me, when I am already low-spirited
enough.â€
“Your presence would no doubt cheer your
mother. You have long promised her a visit.â€
‘“‘I want cheering myself at present. Say
no more about it. I shall stay here since you
wish it.â€
Mrs. Willert put on an air of resignation. She
was, however, anything but resigned, and her
husband benetited little by her companionship.
He was extremely fond of music, and his wife
played and sang charmingly ; butif he asked her
to do either, she told him she had no heart for
anything of the kind. How could he expect it ?
Yet he knew she would have gone to a fashion-
able watering-place, and mixed in all its gaieties,
if he would have consented to take her there.
She spent hours in her own room—he knew
not how—but really, the time was wasted in
reviewing the contents of her wardrobe and
jewel-case, planning additions to both, and re-
pining that she was debarred from displaying
what she already possessed.
By dint of great pains and persuasion, she
had succeeded in keeping nurses and doctor
from mentioning the nature of the children’s
ailment. Mrs. Willert could be very winsome
and charming when she chose, and her pretty
air of anxiety and trouble about the little ones
touched those with whom she had to do. The
cases were slight, the precautions taken were
Trouble in the Nursery: 65
so complete, and the servants were told that
_ these measures were used, not so much from
actual necessity, but to prevent any chance of
‘harm to the household; little, therefore, was
said outside the house.
“Depend on it,†said Mrs. Willert’s maid,
“‘there’s nothing to fear, or the mistress would
have gone away directly. I don’t like complaints
with sore throats myself, but I’m pretty well
proof against infection, for I’ve had almost
everything. I nearly died of scarlet-fever when
I was fifteen, so ’m not afraid, and I shouldn’t
be if the children had it. But, dear me! they
have no such thing. I didn’t laugh or play, as
they are beginning to do already. I know what
fever means.
‘“‘There’s another thing makes me sure these
children haven’t got it. All their clothes,
and the sheets, have gone with the rest to be
washed at Mrs. Coppuck’s. I asked before they
were sent, to make sure, and the mistress said,
‘Of course they were to go! Where else did I
suppose they were to be sent? Who would do
them as well?’ She does not think much for
other people, but she would never send the
clothes amongst those dear little things, if ours
had anything catching.â€
She was wrong in this. Mrs. Willert declined
to entertain the thought of danger to others
through her actions, and said to herself, “If
that weeding-boy’s little brothers and sisters did
E
66 Foes First Earnings.
take the complaint, it would be rather a good
thing. I suppose they must have it some time,
and this ig such a mild form of it, that they
would be well directly.â€
She had heard that people were sure to have
measles, scarlatina, and all such ailments at
some time, and childhood was the best; so
she accepted the old, ignorant belief, and acted
on it, because it suited her convenience. The
nurses supposed that proper arrangements had
been made about the washing of clothes, seeing
that every other precaution had been taken, and
therefore asked no questions, but simply col-
lected them to be taken away.
Mrs. Willert was delighted to see her friend,
Mrs. Standing. She longed to pour out all her
grievances; and her visitor was just the one
whom she might trust entirely. She knew that
Mrs. Standing had lost both her children through
a malignant form of the same fever which was
sparing her own, and she counted on her
sympathy. ‘To her she unbosomed herself
fully ; told of Mr. Willert’s return, his presents
—alas! all lying idle—of the toys that awaited
the little ones on their recovery, the crossing
of her own wishes about going to Scarborough,
and the proposal that she should go to her
mother’s, where she would be bored to death,
when she needed cheerful surroundings to take
her out of herself.
It may easily be imagined how Mrs. Standing
Lrouble in the Nursery. 67
would meet these complaints. It wrung her
motherly heart to speak of her own past sorrow,
but she felt it her duty to point out to her friend
how slight were her trials, and how many her
causes for deepest thankfulness.
“You tell me, dear Elma, that it is a trial
to have beautiful jewels which you cannot use.
That is only a matter of a little patience; and
such jewels are of small account, indeed, when
compared with the living treasures God has
graciously spared you. You have a most in-
dulgent husband, who never crosses you unless
there is a needs-be for saying ‘No.’ When my
two darlings were taken, I was already widowed.
Think of my loneliness, of the burden of sorrow
I had to bear, in addition to what had fallen on
me before. And yet I was not alone.â€
The tears were streaming down the speaker’s
face; and yet, as she said, “(I was not alone,â€
there was a beautiful light upon it, which filled
Mrs. Willert with wonder.
‘Who was with you, dear?†she asked. “I
think I should have lost my senses, or died, I
could never have borne such a trouble.â€
‘Nor could I, alone.. But I remembered the
words, ‘Cast thy burden upon the Lord,’ and
the promise that followed the command. I
pleaded my weakness, and asked for a better
strength ; my loneliness, and begged for the
presence of the Friend that is above all others.
I had lost my natural protector, the husband
68 Foes First Earnings.
who was dearer to me than life, and the children
to whom he had said I must be both father
and mother after he was gone. But I knew
who had said, ‘Call upon me in the day of
trouble,’ and I did call, and not in vain.
‘Elma dear, I could never make you under-
stand my precious sense of the nearness and
faithfulness of God at that time. Only by ex-
perience can we realise these things. But I
know how He sent His messages of comfort
home to my heart by the influence of His Holy
Spirit; how He lifted my burden, wiped away
my tears, led me to look from my weakness to
His strength; from the present, with its sorrows
and trials, to the eternal glory of His home
above, and all the blessings promised to those
who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and
approach the Father through Him.
‘*Hilma, you have often jested about my love
for little children, and my liking for going into
poor homes and trying to take a little comfort
to needy mothers—especially widows. Do you
wonder that I should feel for them, when I
think of my time of sorrow, and what it was to
me, even though I had abundance of the good
things of this world? Sorrow made me think
little of money, and of all the beautiful things with
which my own dear husband had surrounded me.
“Yet, in later days, I understood how terrible
it must be for the widow who has to be sole
bread-winner for a swarm of hungry little ones,
a
Trouble in the Nursery. 69
and of the burden she must carry. Oh, it is
very sweet to have the power of lightening such
a load, and to take a ray of light into a home
darkened by want and sorrow.
“Tf your children had been taken, as mine
were, your heart would find room for every
orphan child, and your will would be to comfort
every sorrowing mother.â€
Mrs, Willert was not wholly unmoved by her
friend’s words, though there was much in them
which stirred no answering chord in her own
mind. ‘Truly, only personal experience could
teach her the lesson which Mrs. Standing had
learned under such sad circumstances long ago.
“Tam not good, like you,†she said. ‘I wish
I were. But I am very thankful about the
children. I suppose it is the having no need
to be afraid about them, that made me think
more of little inconveniences that would not have
come into my mind if they had been seriously
ill. You will not tell a creature what has been
the matter. You knowI told you in confidence.
It would be too dreadful to be kept in social
quarantine for ever so many weeks about a mere
trifle. There is no risk, you know. The children,
and all who attend to them, are in the new part
of the house, built specially for nursery purposes,
and quite apart from the rest. Even Dr. Firth
is perfectly satisfied with the arrangements.â€
Mrs. Standing made the required promise,
and left the house, most thankful that the
70 Foes first Earnings.
young mother should be spared the sorrow she
had experienced, and hoping that the more
serious part of their conversation might not
be forgotten.
CHAPTER VIIL.
HEART WEEDING.
E Corpuck had been employed at Mrs.
Standing’s from April—when he first
sought work—to July, when, holidays
having begun, he could spend more time on
the lawn, and earn more money. During her
absence he had redoubled his efforts, and was
honestly proud of his success in battling with
the weeds.
Joe had won golden opinions from all around
him. Even Mr. Potter wished he had taken
Joe on. ‘ He’s a boy as might be trusted in
the ’ouses,†he said. “You don’t often find
one that works hardest when he thinks no one
is looking after him. Joe does. Though he
was none of my engaging, being Mrs. Standing’s
weeding-boy, I felt it my duty to see that he
was up to no tricks when she was from home.
I’m bound to say that if he’d been watched by
twenty head-gardeners, he could not have worked
steadier or better.â€
Probably Joe owed some of this goodwill to
his respectful manners towards Mr. Potter.
Poe
fLeart Weeding. 71
Anyway, the latter expressed his opinion of the
lad to Mrs. Standing, who was greatly pleased,
and told Potter so. She often talked to the
_ boy, and showed her interest in the rest of the
family on every possible occasion.
“Mother says my coming here was just the
making of us,†remarked Joe, with a beaming
face. ‘What with you speaking for her about
washing for ladies, and giving me work, and
sending clothes for the children, we are so com-
fortable. Mother says what a blessing it is to
have work to do, and health to do it. She
wouldn’t envy anybody now, mother wouldn’t.
Minnie and Jeannie are strong on their legs,
and running all over the place. They get in
mischief, but mother doesn’t mind. She says,
‘ What can you expect from such babies if they’re
well?’ Ned can walk better than he did, and
seems a bit stronger. It’s all your doing,
ma’am,â€â€™ and Joe lifted his honest face, glowing
with gratitude, then went down on his knees
to work again. i
Mrs. Standing smiled at the lad’s frankness,
and told him how glad she was to hear good
news from the cottage.
**T saw your garden there, Joe,†she said.
“You are making a brave show with your own
flowers.â€
“‘T’m more pleased at mastering that wickedest
weed than anything,†said Joe. ‘‘He hasn’t
got his sneaking head through anywhere in this
eo Foes First Earnings.
piece lately. Why, if there isn’t a bit close by
your foot, ma’am!â€
Joe had the intruder out in an instant, ex-
claiming, as he looked at the root, “You're
done for, and there’s no more of you creeping
under the grass hereabouts. You take a lot of
turning out, but I'll beat you yet, if sticking at
you will do it.â€
“T believe you will, Joe. Call at the house
before you go home for a little parcel, and ask
your mother to give its contents to the children.
T shall call to see her to-morrow afternoon.â€
For once, working hours seemed long to Joe;
but this was only because he guessed that he
would carry home a stock of pleasure to the
little ones, beneath the cover of Mrs. Standing’s
parcel, and so it proved. When absent, the
lady had not forgotten her small friends at the
cottage; and there was joy under its roof when
the mother distributed the toys amongst them.
She and Joe were also remembered; but more
precious than the gifts was a little note full of
kind words from the giver. Mrs. Coppuck’s
eyes moistened at the praises of her boy’s in-
dustry and trustworthiness, and the writer’s
congratulations to her as a mother, on the
treasures she possessed in her children.
Mrs. Standing called at the cottage according
to promise, but on the day but one after sending
the parcel. An unexpected visitor had detained
her at home on the preceding afternoon. She
*
PD...
Fleart Weeding. 73
was concerned to find that Mrs. Coppuck’s work
was at a standstill, and she was occupied with
the twins, who were fretful and ailing. As
Mrs. Standing looked at the flushed faces a
ereat dread crossed her mind, but she would
not give it utterance. She asked if the children
had had the measles.
“Yes, ma'am, all of them; but I know chil-
dren sometimes have it twice. Perhaps I ought
not to lef you come near them. Ive been full
of fears in case it should be scarlet-fever, for
I’m sure the babies’ throats are sore. You’ve
heard me say that my four eldest all had the
fever at once, and I lost the one next to Joe
through it. Little Tom and the twins have not
had it; Ned was baby in those days, and those
three were not living then.
“‘T have such a dread of that fever, for I
had a sad time before. Have you heard that
it is stirring in the village, ma’am? Mrs. Wil-
lert’s little boy and girl have been ailing, but
they are about well now. She would not have
sent their clothes here if they had anything
infectious. She would think of my little ones,
and more than mine, for I have a good deal of
children’s washing.â€
The widow’s words were a sad revelation to
her visitor. It was evident that Mrs. Willert
had either carelessly or wilfully exposed her
laundress’s little ones to danger. It was no
time to ask which. Mrs. Standing felt it her
74 Foes First E arnings.
duty to tell Mrs. Coppuck all she knew, adding,
“Like you, I have had a terrible experience of
this fever. It took my two children—all I had.
You shall have all the help I can give you. I
will send the doctor at once.â€
“Who could have thought such a pretty lady
would be so cruel to a poor woman like me?â€
said Mrs. Coppuck. ‘This trouble will stop
my earnings and my children’s bread. I dare
not think of the worst side of all,†and, in spite
of her efforts to control her feelings, the widow
sobbed bitterly.
“Your work may be stopped—your bread
shall be sure, and the best medical attendance
that can be had. Look after your little ones,
and leave the rest to me,†said Mrs. Standing. .
Mrs. Standing was as prompt in action as
kind in word. She sent the doctor, arranged
for all proper care with regard to clothes be-
longing to Mrs. Coppuck’s employers, secured
the services of a competent neighbour, who was
experienced in cottage nursing, and then went
to Mrs. Willert’s to tell her story. She was
met with open arms and a bright face.
“It is so good of you to come,†exclaimed
Mrs. Willert. “I have excellent news of the
children. They are quite bright and lively—
not in the least like invalids now. But you
look grave. What is the matter?â€
“T have just been at your laundress’s, Elma.
Her beautiful twin children are ill. I fear they
Heart Weeding. a5
are beginning with fever. She had terrible
trouble through it years ago. Four of her little
ones were ill—one died. Surely, Elma, you
did not think of the awful responsibility you
incurred when you sent your sick children’s
clothing into that poor home?â€
Mrs. Willert’s face flushed, then went white,
and she trembled visibly under the stern look
of her friend. Neither of the two noticed that
Mr. Willert had entered, for their backs were
towards the door. Before his wife had time to
answer, she was startled by hearing his voice.
‘Can it be possible that you did this thing,
Elma ?—this wicked thing! I cannot call it
careless, for you knew better. If any of this
poor woman’s children are sacrificed, whose fault
will it be? Whether it is a case of suffering or
death, the blame will lie at your door.â€
The young wife, unused to such stern words,
tried in vain to gasp out an excuse. Words would
not come, and she dropped on a chair, covered
her face with her hands, and burst into tears.
Mrs. Standing had not intended to tell Mr.
Willert in the first instance, but she could not ©
regret his knowledge; and when he, leaving
his wife to weep without let or hindrance, asked
what had been done, she told him all.
As she felt would be the case, Mr. Willert
declared his intention of bearing every expense.
‘This poor woman and her children must want
for nothing that my own have had during their
76 foe's First Earnings.
illness. God grant that they may escape serious
suffering, as ours have done,†he said.
Mrs. Willert could not blame her friend for
the part she had taken, but she was nevertheless
very angry that her husband should know of
her fault. When Mrs. Standing approached
her with kind words, and the expressed hope
that her error had been unintentional, and that
all would yet go well, she refused to raise her
head or to speak in reply. Afterwards, when
husband and wife were alone, Mrs. Willert con-
tinued to weep, partly from sorrow—for she was
not insensible of the wrong she had done—partly
from vexation, that the wrong had come to light.
It was a strange experience for her to weep
unsoothed, and apparently uncared for by her
husband. But Mr. Willert was genuinely dis-
tressed. He was so sensible of the mercy shown
to his own children, so pitiful towards another
anxious parent, and grieved that her trial had
been caused by his own wife. He was unwilling
to repeat the hard truths already spoken, yet by
no means inclined to gloss over a serious fault,
and therefore remained silent and absorbed in
thought. Yet Mr. Willert’s heart was going up
in prayer to God for his wife; that she might be
taught by the Holy Spirit to realise her fault, and
to seek forgiveness for Jesus’ sake.
The continued silence was to Mrs. Willert more
trying than reproaches. She was not used to
either ; but if her husband had spoken harshly,
fleart Weeding. vig,
she would have answered sharply. As it was,
each moment made the silence and her own
thoughts harder to bear.
At last—surely in answer to that silent prayer
that was going up to God on her behalf—she
became distressed at the thought of her hus-
band’s displeasure, and the cause of it. She
pictured the poor widow watching over her
children, as dear to her heart and no less fair
than her own, and her tears flowed afresh.
She stole to her husband’s side, and clinging
to his neck, cried, “‘I am sorry, John—so sorry.
Do forgive me. It was wicked of me, for I did
know better, and I will tell you just what I said
to myself when I sent the children’s clothes to
poor Mrs. Coppuck’s.â€
Very much like a child was the young wife
herself as she sobbed out her miserable story,
and told how wilfully indifferent she had been to
the consequences which might follow.
“Oh, John,†she said, as she finished it, “‘ pray
that the children may get well. If one should
die, I shall feel as if I had killed it!â€
Mr. Willert felt for his wife, yet he rejoiced that
she now appeared truly sorry for her fault.
“Tt is not my forgiveness you need, dear wife,â€â€™
he said. ‘‘Let us ask pardon of God for the
wrong done to our poor neighbour, and then ask
her also.â€
Mrs. Willert was glad to kneel by her husband,
and to hear his prayer for her and for the
78 Foes First Earnings.
well-being of the widow’s children. But many
anxious days were to follow before her mind was
set at rest. The twins became much worse than
her own children had been, and little Tom the
“* A’dacious’’ was added to the number of in-
valids. The doctor looked very grave, and there
was a doubt as to the recovery of any of the
three. Overthemother’s sorrowful watchings, and
Mrs. Standing’s practical sympathy, a veil maybe
drawn. Both canbe better imagined than described.
As to Mrs. Willert, she went about from day to
day, carrying such a load of remorse that she
was more to be pitied than any one. The
sorrow which is the result of wrong-doing is
hardest of all to endure. She became thin and
pale, eager for news of those poor children whom
she had so often regarded almost with contempt,
and willing to sacrifice anything for their sakes.
“Much as I value your gifts, John,†she said
to her husband, “I would give all I possess to
know that those precious young lives are safe.â€
It was perhaps well for Mrs. Willert that the
trial was prolonged to her. Had the anxiety been
quickly ended, the lesson might have been as soon
forgotten. As it was, it proved a life-long benefit.
The day came at last when danger was over ;
and later still a wan and silent shadow—all that
was left of the “ A’dacious one ’â€â€™â€”and twin girls,
very unlike the merry Minnie and Jeannie who
had been full of baby mischief, were pronounced
fit to leave home. “Mother and the rest of her
fleart Weeding. 49
young flock accompanied them, and in a cottage
near the sea, provided by Mr. Willert, they all
picked up strength, and grew a new crop of roses
on their wan cheeks.
Joe was most reluctant to leave the lawn,
which had already suffered by his absence during
the fever time at home. But he announced his
intention of settling the weeds on his return.
With the renewed health of her children, the
widow was enabled to rejoice, not in that alone,
but in the knowledge that in the husband of the
pretty lady who had wrought the sorrow, she and
her youngsters would have a firm friend for the
future—to say nothing of the change in Mrs.
Willert.
‘And to think,†said Mrs. Coppuck, “ that
she should have demeaned herself to ask my
pardon in such pretty words. She has it, I’m
sure, and I hope she’ll be happier than she has
ever been. It is wonderful that this trouble
should be amongst the ‘all things’ to work for
the good of me and mine.â€
There was yet another from whom Mrs. Willert
sought forgiveness—her friend, Mrs. Standing.
The two were together, and Mrs. Willert was
of the party when this was done.
‘You and John will help me to be a better
wife, a truer friend, and more thoughtful for
others. I have been horribly selfish—always
caring for my own pleasure, and yielding nothing
for the sake of other people. As I look into my
heart I find plenty of weeds that need uprooting ;
80 Foes First Earnings.
but I do believe that, bad asthe rest are, selfish-
ness is my wickedest weed of all.
“Once I thought very little of the sins that
are like the weed which has cost poor Joe
so much trouble. I shrank from the sort of
sin which lies on the outside of people’s lives.
I should have shrunk from the very thought
of being classed with the thief, the profane,
or the murderer. Now I know that there are
other sins which lie below the surface, but keep
coming up, to the hurt of one’s neighbour, and
are, oh, so hard to get rid of.
“* My selfishness might have robbed my neigh-
bour of her happiness and killed her little ones.
It will need a great deal of rooting out yet; and
there are more faults to fight with as well. Iam
so weak—help me. I can do nothing by myself.â€
“Mrs. Willert looked far more beautiful than
before, with that expression of humility and
‘mistrust of self on her fair face, as she turned
from her friend to her husband.
** We will do allin our power,†they said; ‘‘but
God has laid help on One that is mighty. He is
able not only to give strength, but to save to the
uttermost them that come unto God by Him.*
* It may be doubted by some whether any mother would be
guilty of the fault attributed to Mrs. Willert. I knew one,
many year ago, who sent her boy to a children’s party when he
was only just recovering from a slight attack of scarlet-fever,
rather than deny him the pleasure of it, and the gratification
of wearing a new suit of clothes. Many of the young guests
suffered severely, and one life was lost in consequence.—R. L,
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED.
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