CHAPTER XII

LITTLE ANNIE STEEL

WHEN I got to Mrs. Buxton's, I found her in the front garden cutting cabbages. She was awfully surprised when I told her what I wanted to do. First she said she couldn't let Annie go.

"I never should ha' had her, if I'd knowed she were so 'elpless. Her mother, which was a widow when twenty, died sudden like, and Annie oughter have gone to the infirmary, but my 'usband's people have never none on 'em come to that. So to humour 'im, I says, 'Us will have the lassie here,' and here she be, and no strength or back-bone in her. All she do is to sit in a hunch like and cry. Can't walk a step, no more than a baby. But there, miss, if you're set on it, come on in and us will get her out into your cart easy enough."

So I tied Andy up to the gate-post and went in. The back kitchen was a stuffy little place, and in a low chair sat Annie. She really looked like a tiny old woman, only she had short fair hair standing out straight. When I told her what we were going to do, she smiled such a pitiful smile that it made me almost cry. She was as white as her pinafore. She is only nine years old—just as old as Lynette, but she is all doubled up. I had brought four cushions and a rug, and I made her as comfortable as I could. Her grandmother lifted her right in. She is as light as a feather. Her grandmother tied a cotton sun-bonnet on her head, and then we were off.

I drove very slowly down the lane, for I was afraid of shaking her, and then she began to talk. At first she lay still, looking up into the sky and opening and shutting her mouth rather like a fish, and when I asked her why she did that, she said:

"'Tis the air, miss; I haven't breathed none at all since I come to granny's. Afore mother died, I always sat at open winder, but granny's back winder don't open at all."

She told me she loved Hannah, and then she began exclaiming at everything she saw in such a funny way.

"There be no houses, miss—what a hempty place. This be the real country. I never seed it till I come to granny's, and then 'twas all over so quick, and I never 'ave come outdoors since. Mother allays said God lived in the country, not in the town. Mother 'ated London, she did, she said 'twas so dirty, but we 'ave the sky in London, only not much of it at a time. Oh! This must be like 'eving. The fields, and the trees, and the flowers—I have seen picturs, but not so living as this."

I stopped at the gate of a field to let her see some rabbits play about, and when a butterfly rested on the cart for a minute, she screamed with delight. And then when she grew tired of exclaiming, I began to talk to her. I told her how we got Andy, and she said to me, when I had finished:

"Does God listen to everybody, miss, or is it only rich folks. I ain't heard nothin' 'bout Him since I come to live with granny. Mother used to have a distric' visitor, but I didn't like her. She were always in such a hurry to get away, and she said I'd be better in a 'ome or 'ospital."

"Of course God hears us all," I said, surprised she was so ignorant. "Don't you pray to Him?"

She shook her head.

"I used to say 'Our Father,' but I've clean forgotten how it goes on arter 'kingdom come.'"

"Can you read?" I said.

She shook her head again.

"I did begin, but mother died afore I'd got to big words, and no one has learnt me since."

"Oh, you poor little thing!" I said. "What can you do with yourself all day?"

"I looks at picturs, and sews—I can sew. I'm doin' patches for a quilt for granny."

"You ought to pray to God," I said.

"Why?"

"Oh, because He likes you to. He loves you. Do you know about Jesus Christ?"

"Him what was killed on a cross? Mother telled me that."

"Do you know why He was killed?"

She shook her head.

"Something about saving sinners and the world," she said. "I've forgotten. I b'lieve He was very good and kind. He's been dead hundreds of years, hasn't He?"

"He isn't dead at all," I said, quite horrified. "Why, Annie, you don't know as much as the infants in my class."

"No one never learns me," she said, in a whimpering voice.

So then I began to tell her as well as I could what Jesus had done for her. She didn't know she was a sinner at all, but I think I made her understand she was, after some time, and she was quite surprised when I told her that Jesus was still alive, and still able to help us and be with us and lead us along, though we couldn't see Him. She didn't know the Cross had anything to do with her, and she drank it all in with big eyes and open mouth, till I wished that some one better than I was talking to her. I had to attend to my driving too, and every now and then I got down and picked her some honeysuckle and wild flowers to take back with her. And at last I felt we had been out long enough, so I drove her back, and when we got to her house, she began to cry, and she caught hold of my hand.

"You will come and take me out again—you won't forget me? Oh, do promise you'll come another day!"

"I'll try and come this day week, Annie," I said, "and I'll come and see you before that, and perhaps I can help you to read. I'll bring some books with me."

Her granny lifted her out and seemed quite pleased.

"Well there, missy, 'tis very good of you, and it'll do her a power o' good. Poor bit of a thing, 'twould be a mercy of the Lord to take her. She'll never be no use to no one in this world."

I felt quite angry, but I didn't know what to say, and I saw that Annie's face quivered all over at her horrid words, so I waved to her.

"Good-bye, Annie. I'll come to see you very soon."

Then I ran home and told father all about her. He said:

"I blame myself for not having discovered her. I have been to see Mrs. Buxton, but she never told me she had a grandchild."

"She's ashamed of her," I said. "Hannah told me she thought a deformed child was a disgrace to any one. Isn't it cruel of her? Do you think I could teach her to read, father?"

"Yes, most certainly. Go to her as often as you like—only mind, ask Mrs. Buxton's permission to do it."

When I told the others about Annie, they didn't laugh, and Lynette was quite interested. She got some of her old dolls out, and told me to take them to her.

Aunt C. said at tea:

"I think Grisel has had the most enjoyable day with the donkey."

"Oh, yes, aunt," said Aylwin quickly, "we know what you're going to say—because she thought of other people's pleasure before her own. But she's made that way, it's no credit to her. And don't you make her conceited, because she thinks a lot too much of herself already."

"I don't!" I said angrily.

"Hush! Hush! No quarrelling!"

Aunt C. is always having to say that, so none of us went on with it.

The next morning came a big parcel by post addressed to "Master Denys and Master Aylwin Marjoribanks."

They were awfully excited, and didn't notice Lynette's and my sniggles, for I told her about it. Well, they went on unrolling and unrolling paper after paper, and at last they came to a cardboard box; and when they opened it, it was full of old cabbage-stalks, and a little piece of paper was folded up at the bottom of the box, and they read it out:

"With thanks from Beatrice and Clarice."

Then Lynette and I danced round the table and laughed at them, for they deserved it. And then I told them that I'd never taken the parcel to the Hall at all, and they were awfully disappointed and very angry at the "cheek of those girls," as they expressed it.

I told them they always liked playing jokes on other people, but never liked to have them played on themselves. And Denys said he would have his revenge, but he always says that when he comes off worst in anything, and then he forgets all about it.

I was so interested in Annie Steel, that nearly every day I went to see her, and she got a pink colour in her cheeks, and looked almost pretty. Every Wednesday I take her out.

We're all hard at work earning money for a saddle for Andy. The boys find Captain Rogers likes the most enormous lot of fish. They can't keep him supplied, and he pays them very handsomely. I still send some vegetables and flowers in to Lemworth market by Bob Tapson, and Lynette makes toffee on and off—she gets tired of doing it very often. But the money seems long in coming.

Mrs. Rogers brought Captain Rogers to tea yesterday afternoon, and he made us open our money-box. We found we had fifteen shillings. We had great fun. We had tea out on the lawn—a kind of picnic it was—and Captain Rogers said we must try and make money quicker than we were doing or we should never get our saddle. So then we asked him if he had any plan, and he said Yes, he thought he had. He said he and his wife were going to have an archery competition in their big field, and a lot of grown-up people were coming to it, and also he was going to ask all the children he knew for a children's competition, and he was going to give a prize to the best shooter, and the prize-money was going to be one guinea.

"So all you have to do is to win that prize," he said; "and I know a place where you can get a good boy's saddle for thirty shillings or so."

We all set up a shout; it was lovely to think of. And then we told him that we didn't know how to shoot with bows and arrows, but we supposed we could learn. He said it was one of the few things left to him to do, and that we must come over and practise in his field.

"And we can set up a target here and practise," said Denys. "I will make it; only we have no bows or arrows. Are they expensive?"

"We'll ask Mrs. Ribbon," said Aylwin. "I bet you she'll have to own she doesn't sell them."

"No," said Captain Rogers, "I'll lend you some of mine till after the competition. Let me see, you'll want four, won't you? One apiece."

"Me too!" cried Puff, in an injured tone. "I want to shoot."

So Captain Rogers promised to send five bows round and a packet of arrows. And Denys said, to save him trouble, he'd go back with him and get them, so that we could start at once.

"And how is Andy behaving?" he asked.

"Just as uncertain as ever he was," I said. "Sometimes he's very good, and then he suddenly plays up his old trick of coming to a standstill, and not one of us, or all of us together, can make him move. He's not a faithful animal—he never will be."

Captain Rogers laughed, and pulled a bit of my hair.

"Come here, you little old woman, and tell me what a faithful animal is."

"One you can depend upon," I said; "a certain, sure animal, that is always the same. Isn't that the meaning of faithful? We were talking about it the other day."

"Yes," he said, "that's a very true description of faithfulness. I think I would back you to be faithful, Grisel."

"Oh, I wish I was. But I'm not. You aren't properly faithful if you aren't always faithful, like our knight—'semper fidelis.' I'm trying to be a faithful servant, but I'm always forgetting."

"Whose servant?" he asked. "I think I would like you for a faithful friend, Grisel."

"Christ's servant," I said to him in a whisper. "He comes first, you know. But I'd like to be your faithful friend very much, Captain Rogers."

"We'll make a compact now," he said; "and if I get into trouble and want a friend, I shall know to whom I can turn."

Both the boys went back to the farm with Captain Rogers, and they came home triumphantly with the bows and arrows. And all to-day they have been making a target with straw and white calico and paint. I do hope one of us will get the prize. We stand a good chance, as there are four of us. Beatrice and Clarice are to be asked too, and some other children from a long way off. I believe Captain Rogers hopes we shall win.

* * * * *

It is some time since I wrote in this book, for I have been so busy. First of all I must tell about our archery competition. We began to practise hard for it the very minute the target was ready. We put it up at the end of the lawn and shot at it from as far as we could get away from it. And it's awfully exciting, and great fun. I thought I was getting on splendidly, but I'm rather afraid I was very cross at being called so often away from my practice. As it happened, Emma scalded her leg, and had to be in bed for a whole day, and when she got up, she couldn't move about. And so Aunt C. said Lynette and I must make our beds, and dust the rooms, and help in the house as much as possible. It seemed very provoking, because we did want to be good shooters. I can't bear not doing things well.

Lynette kept running away, but I couldn't do that; and I helped all I could, only I felt very cross the whole time. I don't think I was at all good that week. When Wednesday came, I didn't want to take Annie out for a drive, because Beatrice and Clarice came to spend the afternoon with us, and all of them were shooting hard at the target. I went off with Andy, wishing I hadn't promised to take Annie out every week, but when I saw her little smiling face, I was ashamed of myself. I was half an hour late. She said:

"Grannie said you wouldn't come. I knewed you would. I wakes in the night and thinks o' my drive. You never disapp'int me, do you, miss?"

"I hope I never shall," I said.

Annie was very talkative. "I says my prayers proper when I goes to bed and when I gets up," she said. "I telled granny 'bout it. I said to her, I oughter speak and thank for all the nice things I was havin', special to thank Him Who died on cross for me; and she said so I did oughter, that 'twas more 'n I deserved to have a young lady come so constant to see me. And please, Miss Grisel, you said las' time you were here, you and me were both the Lord's servants, and please if I'm one, what can I do for Him?"

Annie always makes me feel that she is really much better than I am, though she has known about things for such a short time. She seems so dead in earnest.

"I wants to do somethin' for Him," she said; "I loves Him so."

"I don't think Jesus wants us to do very big things for Him when we're children, Annie," I said. "That's what father says. He wants us just to do all day and speak all day as if He were in the room smiling and watching us. Of course He is really in the room with us, you know, but we can't see Him. I'm sure He must often want to turn away His head and look the other way when we get cross and disobliging and grumbling. I do forget about it so. I've been cross to-day myself."

"I cries and grumbles when my back is bad," Annie said thoughtfully. "I'll hush up nex' time if He's near. And do you think He'd like me to peel the taters for granny, and learn to mend grand-dad's socks? 'Cause I sometimes tells of 'er I can't do nothin' when my back aches?"

"I'm sure He would like you to help your granny all you can, Annie," I said. And then I didn't want to be a hypocrite, so I told her how cross I had felt when Aunt C. had asked me to do things, and we agreed together that we must keep saying to ourselves:

"Jesus is in the room. He is watching to see what I'm going to do."

I felt quite happy when I came home from our drive. The others were just having tea, and afterwards I ran out and practised with my bow and arrow for a little, and once I hit the bull's-eye, but I couldn't do it again, though I tried ever so.

[Illustration: HE SHOT SO STEADILY AND FIRMLY.]

At last the day came, and we all went off to the farm, and the field was full of people, and there was the most lovely tea spread out under the trees, and four boys and five girls, all strangers to us. Three girls and a boy were the children of the Squire of Tenbury, a village seven miles from us, and the others were a clergyman's family near Lincoln. They had come by train. We liked them all, and they were quite as excited as we were over the archery.

We began at once, and it was great fun taking it in turns; the boys lay on the grass and cheered when any one did well. I was very nervous when my turn came, and my hand shook as if I had the palsy. But I didn't do badly, only of course I didn't win; I knew I shouldn't do that. I don't think any of us were surprised when Denys was the winner. Somehow I felt he would be. He stood up so straight, and shot so steadily and firmly—just like a grave man. He said after, he felt it was a matter of life or death, because he was determined to get the prize. And then we all cheered like mad, and Mrs. Rogers gave him his prize in a pretty bead purse.

We all came home wild with joy, for we had got our donkey, and donkey-cart, and now we had got the money for the saddle. And none of us need try to earn money any more.

It seemed too good to be true.