IV
"LET'S BE TRUANTS!"
But to-morrow found her with different intentions. She awoke at six o'clock, the birds were singing, and the sun was streaming through the yellow blinds, bathing the room in golden light.
Jill and Bumps slept in a room leading out of Miss Falkner's, Jack had a small room across the passage. Softly Jill stole out of bed and peeped out of the window. It was a morning that would tempt any one out of doors. She saw a bright blue sky and sunny meadows. The fresh green trees, the spring flowers, the sweet scents of early morning all seemed to say, "Come out and enjoy us!"
Jill's cheeks grew rosy at a thought that flashed through her brain.
She opened the door softly and crossed the passage. Turning the handle of Jack's door she whispered, "Jack! Are you awake?"
Jack sprang up at once.
"Of course I am. What do you want?"
"Let's be truants to-day."
"Oh, jolly! When? How?"
Jill came in and sat on the bottom of the bed.
"We must go before breakfast, or we shan't be able to get away without being seen. Miss Falkner sends Bumps and me down at half-past seven, and breakfast isn't ready till eight, so we shan't be missed. You get the food ready and dress as quick as you can."
"And where shall we go?"
"Anywhere. What does it matter? I'll go back and wake up Bumps and tell her."
Jill crept back to her room, and Bumps, a sleepy fat bundle, was shaken into consciousness.
When she understood she was delighted, and was full of fuss and importance at once.
"I'll take my best china mug on the mantelpiece to get some water from a thtream; and do you think I might take a umblella, because it might come on a thunderstorm; and thall I take my thpade and bucket I took to the thea?"
"Hush," whispered Jill; "you'll wake Miss Falkner. You needn't take anything, you little stupid! Keep quiet, and do what I tell you."
Bumps was not crushed. She kept up an incessant stream of shrill whispers till Jill refused to respond, and then she confided the whole plan of action to a beloved rag doll that she always took to bed with her.
It was hard to keep the secret from Miss Falkner, who always helped them to dress, but at last they were dismissed, and scampered down-stairs. Jill had quietly conveyed their hats and boots into the passage before-hand, so they had no difficulty in getting themselves ready for their day out.
Jack joined them in the hall below. One of the maids noticed them but thought they were going into the garden, which indeed they did, though they did not stay there.
"We will walk along the road till we come to a nice field," said Jill, who was taking the head.
"And now we've really begun to truant!" said Bumps importantly; "but please don't go so fatht!"
"Hurrah!" shouted Jack, throwing his cap into the air and catching it; "we're going to do no horrid lessons to-day!"
They tramped along, Bumps getting hot and breathless with her eager resolve to keep pace with the others.
"My legs is so short!" she panted ruefully; "pleath let me hold your hand, Jill."
Jill seized hold of her impatiently.
"You must be quick, Bumps, or else they'll find out we've gone, and run after us. Now, Jack, let us go across this field, it leads down to the river, and no one will find us there because the trees are so thick."
The grass was wet, but that was a trifle. Buttercups were already springing up in the meadow; larks were rising in the air singing their morning hymn of praise, and the children broke into a run. Not a shadow fell on their spirits, they felt exhilarated by the fresh morning breeze.
They reached the river and then began to think of breakfast. Jack with great pride produced his store. It was rather a fragmentary one. Two or three figs, some bits of cake and one orange were divided into three equal portions. The novelty of such a breakfast compensated for the quantity and quality. But when Bumps announced she was thirsty they looked rather dismayed.
"You must drink from the river," said Jill.
"But I might thwallow some fishes," objected Bumps, "and I've no cup."
"Then you must wait till we go home. You can't be thirsty early in the morning."
Bumps heaved a sigh, and looked at the river meditatively.
"It would be nithe to take off shoes and stockings, and go through it like the children Miss Falkner told us of."
"Oh yes, we will," cried Jack. "We'll play at going to the Golden City."
Jill looked grave.
"I meant to start really to-day," she said, "but it's no good now, because we're doing a wicked thing to play truant, and you have to be good when you're walking to the Golden City. I mean to be double good to-morrow to make up."
Jack was already pulling off his shoes and stockings; his sisters quickly followed his example, and for half-an-hour or so they had a delightful time in paddling about. It is true that Bumps fell with a splash once, grazing her hands and knees against the stones and soaking her dress and pinafore, but Bumps' tumbles were so frequent that they passed unnoticed. When they were tired of this pastime they crossed two or three more fields and then climbed up into some steep woods. They were very hot and tired when they reached the top, and sat down to rest.
"We've done nothing exciting yet," complained Jill. "I thought truants always met with lovely adventures."
"Let's have our dinner," suggested Jack, "I'm sure it's time." So again Jack's hoard was brought out, and more bits of cake and biscuits and miscellaneous scraps were divided round.
"I wonder what Miss Falkner is doing," said Jack, "do you think she's hunting for us?"
"Oh, don't think of her. Come on, we must make some adventures. This is very dull."
"We'll all climb a tree," said Jack, "and pretend we're Charles II. hiding in an oak."
Bumps looked a little anxious, but Jill eagerly assented. A suitable tree was found, and up went nimble Jack, followed by Jill, who was quite as good a climber as he was.
Bumps tried her best, but failed entirely, so she sat down on the grass and cried.
Jill took pity on her, and came down to assist her. With the greatest difficulty she was hoisted up, but when she was comfortably settled on a big branch, her little face shone with pride and contentment.
"It's my legs again," she said, looking down upon them with pity; "they is so short, and—and inconven'ent!"
"Hush!" cried Jack, "here's a wild beast coming, look out! Oh, look, look, it's a deer!"
It was indeed a stag, that had wandered out of a private park near. The children had never seen one so close before.
Their movements startled the timid animal, he threw his head up, scented and then saw them, and in a moment he had dashed away through the bushes. In another moment Jack and Jill were down on the ground and racing after him.
Bumps again was left behind, and she lifted up her voice and wept a second time.
"I can't get down! Oh, Jill, come back! Take me down! I'm frightened!"
But no Jill came back, and poor Bumps sobbed away, clinging hold of the branch with her hot little hands and regarding the distance down to the ground with terrified eyes.
It seemed hours to her before any one passed her way, and then suddenly a young man with a gun across his shoulder, and a couple of dogs, came into sight.
"Man! man!" cried Bumps frantically. "I'm left behind. Come and take me down, oh, pleath take me down!"
He started and looked up at her in astonishment, then a smile crossed his lips.
"A baby in a tree! How on earth did a small mite like you perch yourself up there?"
"I've been lefted!" sobbed Bumps. "They've run away, and I'm lotht!"
The young man laughed, then sprang up the tree, and in another minute Bumps stood on firm ground once again.
"Thank you," she said prettily, her face wreathed in smiles. "Now pleathe help me find Jack and Jill."
"Oh no!" ejaculated the young man; "that I refuse to do. I'm in a hurry. If you come along with me I will put you in the road again, and then you will soon find your way home."
Bumps trotted after him quite reassured, talking fast all the time.
"We're having a truant-day, and I've got to stay out till tea-time—Jill thaid so. It is such a long day, and I'd like to go back to Miss Falkner—she's our governess. She takes me in her lap, and I like her. Does your gun go off? Are you killing any one? Jack likes guns. I don't! Jill and him have runned after a deer with horns. I'm thorry I couldn't run after it too. But I think I'll go home by myself, I'm tired of being a truant."
She talked on to her new acquaintance till they reached the road, then he came to a standstill.
"Now where do you live? Can you find your way home?"
Bumps looked about her, then put one finger in her mouth and considered.
"I don't know this road, I'm afraid," she said slowly.
"Where do you live, child?" the young man asked impatiently.
"I live at home," said Bumps with dignity.
"What is your name? Your mother's or father's name?"
"Oh, they went to heaven years ago, we never talks about them. My name is Winnie, but I'm called Bumps."
"And your other name?"
"Winnie Baron."
The young man whistled slowly.
"I see light at last. I know your sister, Miss Baron. You have just come down from London. I'll see you home."
He seemed as anxious now to accompany Bumps back as he had been before to get rid of her.
She was perfectly content to follow him.
"You're a keeper, I expect," she said presently. "We've got two, and I'm dreadfully frightened of Andrew, he is tho croth, he won't let us go into his wood at all. But Barker is very nithe. He has a little boy who tumbled on the fender and had to have his forehead thewn up with needle and cotton! Fanthy that! And he has the cotton in him now!"
Half-an-hour afterwards Bumps and her friend were at the hall door, and Mona came hastily forward to meet him.
"Oh, Bumps, how naughty! We have been looking for you everywhere! Where are the others?"
Then as the young man raised his hat and stepped forward, Mona held out her hand.
"Sir Henry Talbot, is it not? I met you, I think, at Mrs. Archer's the other day. How very kind of you to take pity on my small sister. Do come in. We are just going to have lunch."
"I thought he was a keeper," said Bumps, staring at her sister gravely. "Do you know him, Mona?"
"Run along up-stairs to Miss Falkner. She has been out all the morning looking for you. I hope she will punish you all. You deserve it."
Mona turned sharply away into the drawing-room, and Sir Henry followed her willingly.
Bumps toiled up-stairs, feeling sore-footed and heavy-hearted. What would Jack and Jill say if their day was spoilt because of her? And what would Miss Falkner say? Great tears filled her blue eyes, but she opened the school-room door and walked in bravely.
Miss Falkner met her with a smile of relief.
"Oh, Bumps, where have you been?"
Bumps ran to her and buried her head in her lap.
"I'm thorry," she sobbed. "We were truants, but I've come back, and the others are lotht!"
"Where did you leave them? It was very naughty to go away as you did. Now tell me all about it."
Bumps tried to check her tears.
"I'll never do it again," she said. "They left me up a tree, and I oughtn't to have come back at all. Jill thaid we motht thtay out till tea-time. She'll be angry, and Jack too."
"Where are Jack and Jill?"
"I don't know. They ran away after a deer and never came back; and I waited till a man came by, and he broughted me home."
No more could be got out of Bumps, who began crying again. Miss Falkner saw she was tired and hungry, so she wisely said no more, but gave her some dinner, and then made her lie down on her bed, where she soon fell fast asleep.
Meanwhile Jack and Jill were hunting high and low for Bumps. They pursued the deer with such zeal that they missed their path in the wood, and could not find their tree again.
"Oh, let us leave off looking," said Jack, impatiently, "we shall lose all our day, Bumps is sure to find her way home."
"We can't leave her," said Jill. "She's always a bother when we bring her out. I wish we had left her behind."
But they continued their search. And at last they found the object of it, but no Bumps. Jack climbed up the tree and they shouted till they made the wood ring again, but no answer came.
"She's gone home," said Jack decisively. "We'll just enjoy ourselves without her."
"I think being truants is very dull," admitted Jill.
"I'm not enjoying myself a bit as I thought I should. We have no adventures, and nothing has happened."
"We've lost Bumps."
"Yes, so we have. But that isn't fun to us. It's only fun to the one lost. She may be having heaps and heaps of adventures!"
"What shall we do now?"
"Oh, there's nothing to do but just walk on and see what comes."
Nothing did come. They walked right through the wood, which was a small one, and then got over a hedge into a field. Here they met a small boy carrying a milk-can.
Jill stopped him. "I'm dreadfully thirsty," she said. "Could you give me a drink?"
"Go to your mammy!" the small boy said rudely.
Jill was hot tempered. The scornful tone enraged her. She flew at the boy like a small whirlwind and knocked him down. Over went the can of milk, and the boy stood up at once to fight. Jack pushed Jill aside.
"I'll settle him! I'll teach him manners!" he cried.
Jill climbed a gate-post to watch results. It was not Jack's first fight, and she felt confident that he would come off victorious. She cheered him on lustily, and longed to be in the fray herself. But the small boy proved to be a better pugilist than Jack, and Jill was filled with dismay when she saw Jack thrown violently to the ground, his opponent sitting on his chest triumphantly.
"Will 'ee have some more?"
"Get up," said Jack sullenly.
"Not till 'ee pays me thruppence for that there milk."
Jill dived into her pocket and threw three coppers at the boy.
"I shall tell Mona, and she'll have you punished for fighting us, you wicked boy!"
The victor laughed, slung his can over his shoulder, and ran off. Jack raised himself from the ground with difficulty.
"He's given my head such a bump on the ground," he said, "that I feel quite queer."
"Your nose is bleeding, and oh! you'll have such a black eye! And your shirt is torn, and your collar bursted away!"
"Shut up," growled Jack; "he was like a bullet to hit. I believe he must have a wooden body. Let's find a stream of water, and then I can wash my face!"
They went into another field and found a stream. When Jack had put himself tidy he said slowly—
"Do you know I think we'd better go home. It isn't going to be much fun to-day, I can see. We ought to have had heaps of adventures, and we haven't had one."
"All right! It must be nearly tea-time. I do hope Bumps is all right!"
They trudged home. Jill would not acknowledge that the day had been a failure, but then she had not been vanquished in a fight. Jack had, and his spirit as well as his body was sore in consequence.
It was four o'clock when they reached home. They stole softly up-stairs, but were met by Miss Falkner on the top landing.
She looked at them in silence, then she said—
"I hope you have both enjoyed your day."
Jack shuffled into his room and shut his door without a word.
"Is Bumps home?" Jill asked in a shamefaced way.
"Yes, quite tired out, poor mite. If you put yourself tidy, Jill, I will have tea earlier. You look as if you want it."
Not a word of blame or reproach!
Jill went into her bedroom with a little lump in her throat.
"I haven't really enjoyed myself," she said, as she gazed at her untidy little self in the glass. "I think it would have been much better if I had started for the Golden City this morning, instead of playing truant."
V
"A VERY SOLEMN VOW!"
It was Miss Falkner's custom to read the Bible every morning before she began lessons with the children.
She did not choose long chapters, but with a few words at the end tried to make them interesting to her little pupils.
One morning the subject was Jacob's flight from home. Jill was keenly interested in it.
"What did Jacob mean by giving a tenth to God?" she asked after reading in her turn the last verse of the chapter.
Miss Falkner explained it.
"You see," she said, after telling them of the Jewish custom, "all the money that we have really comes from God. And those of us who are trying to be His servants feel we are given it to use for Him. But even so it is nice to put apart a tenth to use especially for His work down here. A tenth means a penny out of every ten, or a shilling out of every ten, or a pound out of every ten, just as we have it given to us."
Jill's mouth and eyes were open wide.
"And if you have only nine pennies?" she asked.
Miss Falkner smiled.
"Wait till you have ten," she said.
"And what must you do with the tenth?" asked Jack; "put it into the plate at the church?"
"Not always. I think it is nice to keep a little bag or box. A great many people keep a missionary-box and put their tenth in that. Sometimes you can buy something for very poor people. There are such lots of ways of spending money for God. Now we must begin lessons."
The Bibles were shut up, but the seed was sown. That afternoon, when lessons were over, the children ran out into the garden to play.
Jill's face was full of earnest resolve.
"Let's come into the plantation," she said, "I've a lovely plan in my head; only first we must look about for some big stones."
The plantation was a fir-tree one, and edged one side of the garden. Fortune seemed in Jill's favour, for near the plantation was an old stone wall which had been partially removed.
"Now," said the little leader, "we must carry some of these right into the middle of the plantation. Into a dark corner where no one will see us."
"What for?" asked Jack.
He never obeyed unquestioningly.
"I'll tell you in a minute. I think perhaps we ought to have three heaps of stones, only it will take so long. No, one will do, and we must all three share it."
They set to work, found a corner under a tall old pine, and soon had a very respectable heap of stones collected together.
Then Jill volunteered her explanation.
"Of course, Jack, if you don't want to, you needn't, and Bumps needn't either, but I'm going to do it. This is going to be a kind of Jacob's pillar. I've been thinking of it a lot, and I'm going to do what Jacob did."
"Run away from home?" asked Jack, his eyes lighting up with eagerness.
"No, of course not. I'm going to give a tenth of my money to God, and I must have a proper place to do it in."
"Oh," said Jack, his face falling a little; "and you want me to do it too."
"You ought to," Jill said severely.
"I will if Jack does," said Bumps in her breathless way, "I have five pennies!"
"You see me do it first," said Jill; "and then you can make up your mind. It's a very solemn vow, so I must have the stones properly put."
"Yes," said Jack suddenly, "and there was the oil, you know. Jacob had some oil, it's no good without it."
"Bumps must go and ask cook for some; she'll always give her anything."
Away ran Bumps. Jack began to take a keener interest in it.
"Are you going to get very good, Jill?" he asked, looking at his sister critically.
"No," said Jill, "I'm quite sure, however much I want to be good, I shall always be very wicked. But, Jack, I've quite made up my mind to walk to the Golden City; I began the day before yesterday."
"Have you been through the river?" asked Jack in an awed whisper.
"I'm not going to talk about it," said Jill. "Miss Falkner helped me when I was in bed to start right. I'm not quite sure about the road, but I think I'm on it. And anyhow I'm quite determined to give a tenth. Now here comes Bumps. Hooray! She's got the oil!" Jill capered with delight, then checked herself. "I'm going to be properly solemn," she said, "for it isn't a game at all, it's a—a—vow!"
She arranged the stones a little more carefully.
"This will have to stay just as it is for years and years and years, in fact for ever," Jill announced. "When I'm an old woman with a stick and a cap I shall be led out here by all my great-grandchildren, and I shall look back and remember this day."
"That sounds lovely," said Jack admiringly. "Do begin, here's the oil!"
Jill took the bottle, but first she marshalled Jack and Bumps to a respectful distance from her altar.
"You can look on, because it will be your turns next, and there must be no laughing, because I'm in awful earnest. I've brought my Bible out to say the words properly. I shall take some of the oil, and leave you the rest."
Very gravely and deliberately Jill poured the oil on the top stone, then holding her Bible in both hands for an instant, she looked up into the blue sky above her, and then in a clear, distinct voice she read—
"And this stone which I have set for a pillar shall be God's house; and of all that Thou shalt give me I will surely give the tenth unto Thee."
There was a dead silence for a minute, then she turned to her witnesses.
"Say 'Amen,'" she commanded.
The "Amen" was fervently and loudly uttered.
Jill walked away and sat down under a tree.
"Don't speak to me," she said; "after a vow you must be quite quiet for five minutes. Now, Jack, it's your turn; you know what to do."
Jack looked a little frightened.
"It's like service in church," he confided to Bumps; "are you going to do it, Bumps?"
"Oh, yeth, I'll do it," assented Bumps cheerfully, "if you does."
"I suppose I'd better."
Jack walked up to the stones and took up the bottle. He poured some oil out, then followed Jill's example and read the verse out as bravely and loudly as he could.
Jill and Bumps uttered an emphatic "Amen," and Jack came back to his tree and sat down, heaving a great sigh of relief as he did so.
"Go on, Bumps," he muttered.
Bumps trotted up to the stones then looked helplessly round.
"I don't know what next," she said.
"Pour out some oil."
"It's a fat cork—oh! ah! it's thpilt itthelf down my pinny!"
Jill dashed up to her.
"You always spoil everything, you little stupid! Here! give the bottle to me, why, there's hardly any left! Now take it and pour it out properly, and don't keep talking so; be solemn!"
Bumps looked agitated.
"The Bible, Jill! Find the place quick! Oh, I shall never be ready! And Bible words is so hard to read. I'm 'fraid I shall never do it prop'ly. And you said the verth like thaying your prayers. Hadn't I better kneel down to make it more proper to God?"
Bumps was earnestly trying to do her best.
Jill found the verse, and left her.
"You can kneel down if you like. It is a Bible prayer, of course, but you must do it by yourself. It's a vow to God, that's what it is."
Bumps knelt down, holding the Bible devoutly in her little fat hands. She read the verse haltingly, but her whole soul was in it, and she rose from her feet triumphant.
"I've never," she confided to Jack, "thpoken to God out of doors before. He is sure to have heard me, isn't He? Did I do it quite proper, do you think?"
Jack assured her she had managed it quite satisfactorily.
Then the three children stood and looked at each other.
"The next thing," announced Jill, "is to divide our money into tens. We have done the vow, but that's only the beginning. And we mustn't tell anybody about this place, and the stones mustn't be touched, and we must call it what Jacob did—Bethel!"
"Let's put it up somewhere," said Jack.
"Yes," said Jill eagerly; "we will get a board like a trespassers' board, and chalk it with that lovely piece of white chalk you have in your paint-box."
"But where shall we get a board?"
"Sam will make us one."
Sam was the house-carpenter who was always at work on the premises. The children loved him, for he made them many a little trifle, and he was always ready for a chat.
They marched off at once to find him, and came across him taking some planks out of his wood-shed.
Their want was soon made known. Jill was always emphatic and clear in her utterances.
"A proper trespassers' board, Sam, like you put up in the pheasant-covers last week, and I should like you to paint, 'Trespassers will be prosecuted,' to keep people away, only you must leave room for the name on the top."
"Let him paint the name too," suggested Jack, "it would look better than chalk."
Jill looked doubtfully at Sam.
"Could you paint the word 'Bethel,' Sam? I'll tell you how to spell it."
Sam grinned.
"I reckon I could, missy. You show me where you want it put, and I'll do the job!"
"But you promise on your honour you won't tell, because it's a great secret, and we don't want any one to know where it is."
"I'll be as dumb as a dog," said Sam. "Show me the spot, and be sharp, missy, for I'm extra busy to-day!"
The children led him into the plantation.
He smiled when he saw the heap of stones.
"So this here is a Bethel, is it?"
"I don't believe Jacob put up a trespassers' board," said Jack with a knowing shake of his head; "it will look very funny, Jill."
"It's to be done," said Jill. "I won't have people coming, and making fun, and pulling our stones about, and if they do come, I shall prosecute them!"
Bumps looked at her sister in awe.
"Will you thend them to prison?" she asked.
"But what is it for?" asked Sam, peering on the stones and seeing the marks of the oil; "be you going to make a sacrifice?"
"No," said Jill solemnly; "you never laugh at us, Sam, so I'll tell you; and if you like to join us you shall. It's a vow we've made to God. You can read about it in your Bible if you like. We're going to be like Jacob, and give God a tenth of our money."
Sam scratched his head.
"I'll make the board, missy, but I can't promise to jine you."
"Well, make it as quick as you can, and if you read about Jacob like Miss Falkner and us, you'll want to do it too!"
Sam did not respond, but he promised to make the board, and the children, hearing their tea-bell ring, ran off to the house.
They did not tell Miss Falkner of their afternoon's performance, though Bumps was sadly wanting to do so. After tea their governess sat down to write a letter, and told them to amuse themselves quietly.
Jill gathered her forces into a corner of the room.
"Now then," she said; "have you got your money?"
"Yes," replied Jack, shaking out his pockets; "here is all mine, but it's precious little! Here's a threepenny bit and a sixpence and two pennies. How am I to get a tenth out of it? It's as bad as sums."
Jill took the money spread it out on the floor, and then sat down in front of it to consider it, with a face as grave as a judge's.
"You have eleven pennies," she said; "take one away, and that leaves ten; take a penny out of that, and that's your tenth."
Jack looked completely puzzled.
"And what am I do with the first penny that I take away?" he asked.
"You must keep that to go on for another ten pennies," said Jill with a knitted brow. "I'm sure that will be right, and the nine-pence you can spend any day you like."
"I'll spend it to-morrow, I think. I want a kite that I saw in the shop in the village, and I believe it costs about that. What am I to do with my tenth?"
"Keep it in a box or bag. Miss Falkner told you that. Now, Bumps, what have you got?"
"Five pennies," said Bumps importantly.
"You can't give a tenth then," said Jill, "for you haven't got one."
Bumps looked ready to cry.
"I'm alwayth being left out," she said; "do pleath make it come right. Can't I give one penny?"
A brilliant idea struck Jack.
"Change it into halfpennies, and she'll have ten!" he said.
Jill and Bumps both brightened up.
"Yes, Bumps, that will be the thing; you must put a halfpenny by, and that will be your tenth. I have two halfpennies you can have instead of your penny."
It needed a good deal of explaining to Bumps before she was completely satisfied. When that was done Jill produced her own purse. She was the richest of the three, for she owned three shillings and sixpence, but how to get a tenth out of it was a puzzle.
Miss Falkner, hearing their eager, excited voices, came to the rescue, and showed Jill that fourpence was the tenth of forty pence, and the two over would go towards the next tenth. Then she delighted her small pupils by producing a pretty scarlet flannel bag which she gave them as a "Tenth" bag. Their united coins rattled in, and though it was only fivepence-halfpenny, they felt as proud of it as if it had been five pounds.
"It's a beginning," said Jill to her governess as she was tucking her up in bed that night. "That's two beginnings I've made since you came here."
Miss Falkner's eyes glistened as she bent over her.
"My little Jill, I shall pray that God may never let you go back from these beginnings, as you call them. Ask Him to help you, dear. It is easier sometimes to make a beginning than go steadily on."
"Yes," said Jill sleepily; "but that's because the Golden City is such a long way off!"
VI
"GOD'S CABBAGES"
Sam was as good as his word. Before a week was out a minute board was erected by the children's heap of stones.
Big white letters confronted any passerby—
"BETHEL.
TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED."
And Jill made a point of visiting the spot at least once a day, to be sure that it was left unmolested.
"I'm coming to tea with you, Sam, soon," she announced one afternoon, as she sat on a gate swinging herself to and fro and watching the carpenter repairing a fence.
Sam lived alone with his old father, in a rose-covered cottage, at the corner of the village.
Sam was devoted to roses, and his little front garden was given up to their cultivation.
The back one was in his father's charge, and he grew cabbages.
"Father will be pleased to see you, missy, and so shall I," was Sam's quiet response.
"Then you must invite me properly, and ask me to-morrow, for Mona is going to take Miss Falkner out for a drive. And then we have tea with Annie. I hate my tea poured out by a schoolroom-maid!"
Jill's little nose was tilted scornfully in the air.
"Aye," said Sam smiling; "to-morrow will suit first-rate, missy. Father and me presents our duty, and will be pleased if you will favour us with your company to tea to-morrow at five o'clock."
This was the usual formula, and Jill clapped her hands in delight; then she said with becoming gravity—
"I shall be very pleased to come, Sam. Tell Mr. Stone I'll favour him."
Then she ran into the house, and told Jack and Bumps where she was going.
They were inclined to be cross at first, but Jack soon recovered himself.
"We'll do quite well without you. I shall play at Sinbad the Sailor, and Bumps is going to be my Old Man of the Sea. Annie likes to join sometimes, and we'll have our tea in the garden. She likes that, for the gardener has a cup of tea with us."
Miss Falkner heard of the invitation, but raised no objection, so punctually at five o'clock the next evening Jill walked into Sam Stone's cottage.
He and his father were expecting her. The tiny kitchen was in perfect order, and looked spotlessly clean.
The table was laid for tea; and a boiled egg for Jill, besides some watercress and currant buns, gave it quite a festive air.
Old Mr. Stone looked delighted to see her. He was a tall, active old man, with a long grey beard, and had always plenty to say for himself.
"'Tis a pleasure to see you, missy. Come right in, an' sit comfortable on my poor wife's rocking-cheer. 'Twas the last thing she sat in afore she died, an' I see her in it now a gaspin' an' chokin', an' smilin' up at me so sadly like. 'Jim,' she sez, ''tis the Lord that did give me to yer, an' 'tis the Lord that do be goin' to take me away from yer. Thank Him,' she sez, 'for all His mercies!' An' I sez to her, 'Jenny, my heart can't thank if my lips can, an' I'd rather say nothin' just now to the Almighty.' Jenny, she were always so properly religious!"
"And are you properly religious too, Mr. Stone?" questioned Jill as she took her seat at the table, and commenced with great pride and solemnity to pour out tea. She was always given the post of honour, behind the big flowered tin tea-tray, and much enjoyed the responsibilities of her position.
The old man shook his head.
"I fear I be a very improper Christian," he said.
"I wonder," said Jill reflectively, "whether your wife gave a tenth to God. Miss Falkner thinks all proper good people do."
"What be that, missy?"
"It's what Jacob did, you know, and we're going to try to do it. Don't you remember his vow? 'Of all that Thou shalt give me, I will surely give the tenth unto Thee.'"
Old Mr. Stone nodded his head.
"My fayther did allays give a little to our rector; that be it missy, that be it. 'Tis the beginning of it you have told of!"
"Do tell me," said Jill eagerly. "Do you think we could give our tenth to our rector?"
Sam and his father both tried then to give Jill a dissertation on tithes. She hardly grasped it, but child-like returned pertinaciously to her business in hand.
"I want Sam to join us. I'm sure he has a lot of money. I hear it jingle in his pocket. And won't you too, Mr. Stone? If you will, you can come to our 'Bethel' and do it quite properly."
"I tell missy we be hard-workin' people, that be scarcely able to feed ourselves," said Sam.
"But a tenth isn't much," argued Jill. "Out of forty pennies you only have to give four. How much do you get from Mona, Sam?"
"A pound a week," answered Sam stolidly.
"Now, how many tens are in that, I wonder," Jill went on with interest; "you see, Sam, Miss Falkner says God sends us everything, so it does seem rather mean never to give anything back, doesn't it?"
"I reckon," said Mr. Stone looking at his son with a twinkle in his eye, "that two shillin' be a tenth o' Sam's money, not to speak of his other odd jobs that he do get in an' out."
"We should be on the way to the House, missy, if I did give away such a bit as that!"
"Oh, no, you wouldn't, for God just sends it back, Miss Falkner says in other kind of ways. Only He is pleased if we think of Him."
"If I were a rich man," said old Mr. Stone, "I'd give the Almighty a tenth. 'Tis a cryin' shame the rich be so grudgin' wi' their wealth; but we poor humble folk be not expected to do such things!"
"Haven't you got anything to give God, Mr. Stone?"
"Nothin' at all," responded the old man with a sigh. "Sam do take care of his old father, an' I sells my cabbages an' helps all I can; but since Christmas twelvemonth the rheumaty pains in my innerds be so cruel bad, that I be creepin' on to church-yard slow and sure."
A little gloom seemed to have fallen on the tea-party. Then Jill started another subject.
"When are you going to be married, Sam?"
Sam threw up his head and laughed aloud. He was a confirmed old bachelor and did not, as he expressed it, "like the ways of women."
"Ah, missy, I'll wait till you set the example."
"Oh, but I don't mean to marry at all. I shall be like Mona. Cook told Annie the other day that Mona was going to marry Captain Willoughby and I told Mona, and she was very angry and then she laughed and said that cook had already married her to over a dozen people. I don't quite know what she meant—but I think you ought to marry, Sam, and cook thinks so too. She says a house isn't a home without a woman!"
Sam laughed again.
"A woman, missy, is an ork'ard customer to deal with. There is smiles, 'tis true, but then there's tears, an' I can't abide 'em! An' there's a great chatteration, and there's a spendin', not so much in pots an' pans an' good wholesome food, but in ribbons an' silks an' finery. An' many a maid turns her man to drink, from her contrary tempers. Best be wi'out them, I say, an' so do fayther."
They talked away till tea was over, and then Jill accompanied old Mr. Stone into the back garden.
He pointed out to her row after row of his fine cabbages.
"One hundred and fifty-two, missy, an' all sowed from seed, an' I've tended 'em like chillen."
Jill walked up and down amongst the cabbages with a thoughtful air. Suddenly she stood still, seized with an inspiration.
"Mr. Stone, you've got cabbages! The text says, 'Of all that Thou shalt give me, I will surely give the tenth unto Thee.' You must give a tenth of your cabbages to God. Oh, do, won't you? And then you can join us. How many tens have you got? Let us go through, and mark every tenth cabbage off for God. That's the way to do it. How shall we mark them? Will Sam let us have some of that red worsted he ties up his roses with? I'll ask him. Just wait a minute. I know how to do it!"
Jill flew into the house breathless and excited without waiting for the old man's reply. She returned triumphant with her ball of red wool. "Sam thinks it will be very nice. I told him. And you know, Mr. Stone, God did give the cabbages to you. He made them grow, you didn't!"
The old man looked at her queerly. Then he fetched his pipe out of his pocket and began to smoke.
"Them cabbages fetch three-halfpence each in the market, and cheap at the price," he said.
Jill marched along the first row until she arrived at the tenth cabbage, then she broke off a piece of her red wool and tied it through one of the leaves.
"There, Mr. Stone, that's God's cabbage. Now, I'll go on to the next, and then you'll know how many you will have to give."
"What am I to do wi' 'em, missy. Take 'em to church?"
Jill sat down on an old wheelbarrow to consider. "Why," she said presently with a beaming smile, "when you take up a cabbage with a piece of red wool on it, you must sell it for God, and put the money in a little bag, and then give it to the poor."
"P'raps," said the old man with a chuckle, "it will find its way back into my pocket, for I'm a very poor old body, very poor indeed!"
"You're making a joke of it," said Jill, flushing a deep red. "I mean a real starving person, when I talk of the poor. Would you rather give it to the collection in church, Mr. Stone?"
"Aye p'raps that would be the best way to work it."
So taking that as a promise Jill set to work with a will, and before she left that evening she had marked off fifteen cabbages, the tenth of the old man's property.
"And now if you really like to give them, will you come to-morrow to 'Bethel' and do your vow?"
Mr. Stone wavered, but finally Jill won him over, and he promised to be outside the fir plantation the very next day.
Jack and Bumps were full of interest when Jill told them of her evening's work. It did much towards solacing Bumps, who had a bruised head and a badly grazed knee, but wounds were generally her lot after an hour or two alone with Jack.
"I wath the old man of the thea," she explained to Jill, "and I couldn't thtick on. Jack jumped and rolled and kicked me up in the air to get me off, and I had to try to be on all the time. It wath very differcult!"
She was rather doubtful about the cabbages.
"I thought it wath to be money. God really does make money and give it to us, but does He make cabbages? I thought they growed of theirselves."
"How do you think God makes money?" Jack asked.
Bumps thought hard for a minute.
"I 'spect He just drops pennies and shillings into the ground when no one is looking, and then lets us find them. I know they does come from under the earth, becauth Miss Falkner told me."
Jill tried to explain that cabbages brought in money, and it was the money for them that would be the tenth and after a time Bumps was satisfied.
They were all present the next day when old Mr. Stone was initiated into the mysteries of Bethel. But he shook his head sternly at the heap of stones.
"No no, that there altar is idol'try, that is what it be. The chapel folk would turn me out if I went for to forget myself in such a heathen-like way! Pour oil on it? Indeed no, missy. That be like the cannibal heathen who offer up sacrifices and living bodies, an' such like."
"But Jacob did," argued Jill. "We've kept most particular to the Bible."
"Ah, well, Jacob had to answer to the Almighty for it, an' I won't be his judge. But I'm a chapel man myself, though I favours the church on occasions. I'll say the words, missy, an' then you must let me go. My poor wife used to give to charity an' such like. I remember her handin' a penny out of the windy to a tramp one day. I could do with a deal more religion, I owns, for though I thinks little, I knows I ought to thank my Maker more for His mercy an' goodness. An' He is kindly welcome to my cabbages—them that be marked with red wool. So now, missy, where be the book?"
The Bible was put into his hand, and the verse pointed out, but he would only repeat the last part of it.
The children chorused "Amen," and then he was led away, but his words left an uncomfortable feeling behind.
"Is it like the heathens to have a heap of stones, I wonder?" said Jill, sitting down on the grass and looking at the pile very affectionately.
"It's all rubbish!" said Jack. "Jacob wouldn't have done a wicked thing, when he was making a vow to God."
"Arth Miss Falkner," was Bumps' suggestion. But Jill would not agree to this.
"It's a secret," she said; "we mustn't tell everybody. I think I'm rather sorry I brought Mr. Stone here. Sam didn't think it wicked."
"Isn't Sam going to join?"
"He won't just yet. He says he wants to think it over."
Then she jumped up. "Come along, let us have a game of hide-and-seek."
Away they scampered, making the garden ring with their shouts, and "Bethel" was forgotten for the time.