CHAPTER III

MY SECRET

I HAVEN'T written in this book for over a week, so I shall be very busy now doing it. I think I'll tell about Sunday first. We all have a boiled egg on Sunday morning for breakfast; that's the first nice thing that happens, if we don't count our clothes. I'm afraid Lynette and I rather like our best white dresses. We are only just out of our mourning, and it is nice to be in white instead of black. Our hats are white straw with white ribbon; father always likes our things to be very plain. I think Lynette looks rather like an angel on Sunday; if she had wings, she would be exactly like one. And I do think it's very nice to know you're dressed better than on any other day in the week; it makes you feel good.

We had to be rather quick over breakfast, because Aunt Caroline had to go off to Sunday school. She comes back in time to go to church with us. It was another very hot day, and the sun streamed in through the church windows and made us hotter still. It kept coming into my eyes—I was very uncomfortable—and then it settled on a farmer's bald head. He didn't like it at all; he kept flicking his head with his handkerchief as if he were beating off flies. And then he spread his handkerchief over his head, and he looked so funny that I struggled and struggled to keep from laughing, and in the end I exploded, and made such a noise that father stopped reading the lesson and looked at me. I was ready to cry then, I felt it was such a disgrace. And I honestly had tried not to laugh, but it would come in spite of me. I felt miserable till father got up to preach, and then I listened. I always like father's sermons; he never says long words, and he always tells us something new out of the Bible.

He began telling the story of the centurion, and he took for his text the verse: "I say unto one, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come, and he cometh; and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it." Father said this was the picture of a faithful servant. And then he told us that Jesus Christ said those three words to us, only father changed the order of them, He said it was Come, Go, Do.

And he said that was our Christian life. We must "come" first before we could "go," and then we must "do." We must "come" and give ourselves up to Jesus as His soldiers and servants, and get Him to forgive us our sins, and make us His own. And we must "go," and tell others—to our friends first, and then to those who don't know about Jesus. We must "go" straight into the world from our knees; some had to go far away—from England and home. Father talked about missionaries a good deal, and he said there were others who could "do" in their own homes, just doing what Jesus told them all day long. I could understand every word of it, and even the boys listened, because father called it a sermon preached by a soldier, and they like anything about soldiers.

I began to think a lot before I came out of church; the boys asked if I was worrying over my secret, but I told them I wasn't. After dinner we all went out on the lawn, and learnt our collects and bits of the catechism. Aunt Caroline went off to Sunday school again, but father came out and sat in an easy-chair under the elms and talked to us about our collects. We said them to him. Then the boys went off and so did Lynette, but I stayed, for I hoped father would say something about his sermon. He did presently; he put out his hand and laid it on my shoulder. I was sitting upon the grass close to him.

"Did you listen to my sermon, Grisel?"

"Yes, father."

"And which command of those three have you obeyed? Are you going to be one of Christ's faithful servants?"

"I think I have 'come,'" I said shyly.

Father did not say anything.

"But I don't quite understand the 'going,'" I said. "I couldn't go into all the world and preach the Gospel!"

"I heard your aunt ask you if you couldn't help her by teaching the infants' class at Sunday school; I think you could 'go' to that."

"Oh, father!" I said, looking at him with startled eyes. "I'm not old enough. The boys would say I was more of a prig than ever, if I did it; they're always calling me a prig now!"

"The question is whether Christ's commands or the boys have most weight with you."

I hung my head, then faltered out:

"A prig is such 'bad form.'"

Father laughed aloud.

I added hastily: "I do hate a prig so myself, father, and teaching in Sunday school would be very priggy."

"Very well," said father; "I will say no more."

I didn't feel comfortable. Puff came up at this minute and launched himself on father's knees, so I left them, and went up to the schoolroom and got a story-book out of the Sunday bookshelf. I sat down and read till tea-time, for I didn't want to think. I really cannot teach a class. I shouldn't know what to say, and the infants stare so, and I know Denys would laugh at me.

We went to evening church after tea, but I'm afraid I tried not to listen to the sermon.

And when we were singing the evening hymn—

Sweet Saviour, bless us ere we go, Thy Word into our minds instil, And make our lukewarm hearts to glow With lowly love and fervent will—

I felt the tears come into my eyes, because I knew I had a lukewarm heart.

I was rather glad when Monday came, because I was very busy making preparations for Tuesday. Aylwin asked father at breakfast if he could go into the hayfields for the whole day with Mr. Cummins—he's the farmer who has father's glebe farm. And father said he might, if Mr. Cummins liked to have him.

I envied Aylwin, because I simply adore hayfields. "You're going to have a nice lazy day," I said to him, "when you ought to be carrying out your plan!"

"Shut up, old Grizzly!" he said. And then he ran off laughing.

Denys looked after him for a minute as if he would like to have gone too.

"I'm going to be ferociously busy," he said. "My plan is ripe for carrying out to-day."

"Mine will be ripe to-morrow," I said.

And then I went out into the garden to talk to old Baldwin. He is our gardener. We have never had a gardener in our lives before, but then we have had no garden. He's a very nice old man, but he won't take orders from anybody, not even father.

"The garden be my job," he said to him one day, "and sermons be your'n, and 'tis no manner of use of mixin' 'em up together. Might as well mix onion seed and lavender. You be trained to preach, I be trained to garding, and we both knows our own bizness best."

He is always ready to talk to us, and I'm afraid I've told him a part of my plan. He and father have both heard a bit of it, but then they had to, or I couldn't have done it.

I was busy till dinner-time, and then Aunt Caroline said to me:

"Grisel, I want you to take some soup to an old woman who lives half a mile out of the village. You can take Puff with you; a walk will do him good."

"Oh, Aunt Caroline!" I said. "Need I go this afternoon? I wanted to do something in the garden so much."

"I notice that whenever I ask you to do anything, Grisel, you always want to do something else. It isn't a great hardship to go half a mile with some soup to a sick woman. I can't go myself, for I am returning a call with your father."

I made a wry face, and then I thought this might be one of the "go's" father talked about. Anyway, it was better than teaching a Sunday class, so I tried to look pleasant, and got Puff ready and started with him. Lynette came out to the gate with us, and took advantage of opening it to have a good swing on it.

"Hurrah!" she cried. "I'm going to make some more toffee. I shall beat you all hollow, you are such slow-coaches!"

She was so excited that she swung herself a little too violently, and the next minute she was flying off the gate upon the ground.

"Pride will have a fall!" I called after her, as she picked herself up and rubbed her grazed elbows, and then I hurried on with Puff.

He was, of course, full of talk, as he always is.

"I shall wide the donkey nex' week," he said, "and I shall have first turn 'cause it's me that gotted it!"

"When is it coming, then?" I asked him.

He looked thoughtful for a minute, then said:

"I said it must be a vewy clean one, newly washed, not like the donkeys when we went to the seaside, and it must have blue eyes, and teaf that doesn't bite. I expect it about four days after to-morrer."

I laughed.

He looked so earnest as he trotted along, and then he panted out:

"It'll be the bestest donkey in the world, 'cause I've asked the richest Person in the world to get it, and if He gived a million pounds for it, He wouldn't mind a bit, 'cause He is so rich."

"I don't think you should speak of God like that Puff—it isn't reverent."

"I didn't say who it was, you horrid fing; you've guessed my secret, and it's a shame."

Puff looked ready to cry, and came to a standstill in the middle of the road. I took hold of his hand and hurried him on.

"Never mind! I won't tell any one, I promise you."

And then I began to tell him a story to take his mind off.

It was a long hot walk to Mrs. Tapson's. I'm sure it was more like a mile than half a mile, but we got there at last. It was a dear little cottage in a garden by itself off the road. The door was partly open, so I went in, and a man who was making up the fire turned round when he saw me.

"Soup for mother?" he said, smiling, when I told him why I came. "I be right down grateful for it, that I be. She be upstairs in bed with cruel rheumatics, and I be tending on her like a baby. To-morrer be my day to Lemworth, and I leaves the village sharp at eight and don't come back till seven at night, and I were just trying to cook a bit o' bacon pie to last her, but the soup be grand."

He had taken the jug from me, and was looking in it.

"There be plenty o' this for a drop to-day as well as to-morrer," he said. "Well, I thank 'ee kindly, missy. Go on up and see mother, will 'ee? She dearly likes a bit o' company."

So I climbed the little narrow stair, and Puff came thumping after me. I am rather afraid of sick persons generally, but I liked this old woman. She had a clean frilled night-cap, and a wonderful patchwork quilt, and her face was quite bright when she saw us. She said she had heard about us, and was I the little lady with the lovely hair? I laughed as I shook back my red mane, and told her that was Lynette. And then Puff began to talk to her, and of course he told her about the donkey—he was full of it.

"Puff doesn't quite understand about prayer," I said, explaining. "He thinks he is bound to get everything he asks God for. He asks to have his toys mended, and I generally have to be the mender, because he goes on expecting miracles so."

"Ah, dearie," said Mrs. Tapson, "the Lord does love to hear the baby chatter, I'll be bound, same as I used to listen to my Bob's, though well I knew I couldn't and wouldn't give him half he asked for. But pray away, sonny, pray away; 'tis the habit of prayer will make you a strong soul, if so be you sticks to it, and you be an example to us older folk, for sure you be."

Puff didn't understand her. He grew restless and stumped downstairs, and I got up to go, and then I found out that Bob Tapson, her son, was the carrier. And then I told her my secret; I felt I simply must tell somebody, and I told it all, every bit of it. She was quite interested, and told me her son would look-out for me and keep a seat for me in the cart.

There! I am letting the cat out of the bag, so I think I had better tell my whole plan. Father said I could have any vegetables and flowers that Baldwin could spare me, because we have such a lot of them. And I had been busy picking flowers and arranging them in nosegays, and tying up lettuces that were weeded out, and onions, and cabbages, and a lot of odd things, and I had found an old hamper in the stable, and Baldwin helped me to pack it, and my idea was to go to Lemworth Market in the carrier's cart and sell my vegetables and flowers myself, like lots of our village women and children do. Of course you can go to Lemworth by train, but it is a very long way round, and you have to change trains, and the carrier is cheaper. When I heard that I should have to be off at eight o'clock and not come back till seven at night I wondered how I should do it, as I should be missed, and perhaps Aunt Caroline might make a fuss and try to prevent me if she knew.

I walked home with Puff, feeling rather worried. I should have to go without my breakfast, that was certain, because we don't have breakfast till eight o'clock. I could easily get off so early, because no one would see me—but would they think something had happened to me? And then I thought I would leave a note for father and explain, and ask him not to tell. So I cheered up, and directly we got in I rushed off to the garden and went on packing my hamper. When we came to tea, Aunt Caroline told us that father had been sent for to take a funeral in the next parish, for the clergyman was away.

"And he is going to sleep the night there," she said. "He won't be back till to-morrow afternoon, for there is a wedding in the morning he must take as well."

So my note to him was no good. I felt rather puzzled, and then I thought of what I could say to Aunt Caroline. So I wrote this note before I went to bed:

"DEAR AUNT CAROLINE,—If I am missing all day, this is to tell you that I am not drowned, but quite well. And I shall come back at seven o'clock, and it is because I am carrying out my plan, which is a secret.

"Your loving niece,

"GRISEL.

"P.S.—It isn't mischief, but good business."

Aunt Caroline said before we went to bed that she had hardly seen any of us all day, and that she hoped we hadn't been getting into mischief. Aylwin looked as scarlet as a poppy, and said he was dead tired, and Denys looked rather crestfallen.

"I've worked hard enough to earn ten shillings," he said, "and I mean to make that before very long, I can tell you."

"I don't like all this talk about money, children," said Aunt Caroline. "You seem to think of nothing else. It is so mercenary and unchildish."

"But it's to get a donkey," we all shouted.

Aunt Caroline didn't say any more.