CHAPTER VIII

Reaping

WE were glad to get home. I think we were getting tired of our long holidays, and were not sorry when the day was fixed for the boys to go back to school after the Easter holidays.

And we all enjoyed having father and mother back again. Mother was a great invalid, but she was always ready to help and listen to any of us, if we went to her with our troubles; and father spoilt us all—so Fräulein and nurse said. He was always ready to take us sightseeing about London, and we were never tired of accompanying him.

The evening before the boys went back to school we were having a small farewell gathering. We always had them every quarter, and cook used to make us a huge iced cake with "farewell" in pink letters all round it, which we much appreciated.

Miss Moffat was with us, and so was Uncle Bob, and we spent the evening in games and merriment. It was during some dumb charades, with which we were winding up, that Thunder and I were alone for a few minutes. I had been longing to say something to him before he went back to school, and now this seemed the opportunity.

"You'll write to me, won't you, Thun?"

"Don't I always?"

"And, Thun, will you try what I have tried?"

Thunder looked at me for a moment without speaking, then he said gruffly—

"I have."

"Oh, when? How splendid!"

"A week or two ago."

"And have you really started? Oh, Thunder, you might have told me!"

"I meant to; but you know how hard it is to talk. I've been watching you, and I felt I was all wrong. I think I'm on the right track now, only it's the life at school I dread. You might, you know, pray for me, Li, when I'm gone."

No more would he say, and I was so overcome that tears crowded to my eyes. It seemed too good to be true, and yet it was only the answer to my prayers. I knew Thunder was too thoughtful and thorough to be anything but real. He always had held on doggedly to anything that he had taken up, and, as Miss Moffat would say, he would have unseen power to help him along; so I had not much fear for his future.

[Illustration: "OH, WHEN? HOW SPLENDID!"]

"Why, Mary, you're sunshine itself!" said Miss Moffat to me later that evening. "What makes you so radiant?"

I gave her a good squeeze. "Thunder," I said.

She understood, for she raised her eyebrows, and then nodded and smiled.

Just before she left us, when I was putting on her cloak in the hall, I whispered—

"Isn't it lovely? But I wish it was Honey."

Miss Moffat smiled. "Pray and work for her, dear child."

The boys went. We girls settled down to a very quiet routine of lessons with Fräulein, and felt dull after our long time of idleness and dissipation. And so the spring wore on and summer came, and still Honey wavered and said "By-and-by" when I talked to her.

One lovely summer's afternoon we were gathering round the schoolroom table with black looks. It had been a trying day; Fräulein had a headache, and was unusually fidgety and cross, and the heat and confinement had made us careless and idle. After dinner Fräulein went to rest in her room, leaving us each so many French exercises to write out as impositions, and forbidding us to leave the schoolroom till we had finished them.

"It's a beastly shame!" cried Taters, stamping her foot in anger when Fräulein had departed. "And I'm not going to do mine. Look!"

And taking up her exercise-book, naughty Taters deliberately tore it to pieces and scattered the fragments out of the open window.

We were rather aghast at this proceeding, for Fräulein was not a person to be trifled with.

"You're a little silly," Honey said; "it will only be worse for you in the end."

"It's too bad of Fräulein," I grumbled. "If I was a governess with a headache, I would give fewer lessons to my pupils, not more."

"Even a saint can grumble!" said Taters, mockingly, and then she ran out of the room.

We heard her whistling on the staircase, and then suddenly there was an awful crash, a piercing shriek, and dead silence.

[Illustration]

Honey and I rushed to the door, and I shall never forget the moment when, looking over the balusters, we saw Taters—a confused heap in the hall below. She had been sliding on the rails, a forbidden pastime, and in some way or other had overbalanced herself.

Mother rushed from her room, and was the first to lift her up; the servants and Fräulein crowded round, and then nurse came up and drew us into the nursery.

Honey was as white as death, and shaking like a leaf. "She isn't dead, nurse! Oh, she can't be dead!"

"Pray God she mayn't be!" responded nurse. And she left us with Pixie, while she went to give her help.

Our doctor came almost immediately, and there were hushed voices and footsteps all the evening. We were told when we went to bed that Taters was alive, but she had broken an arm, and concussion of the brain was feared.

For weeks she lay between life and death. Honey and I were too miserable for words. And I kept praying in my heart, "O God, heal her; let her live—save her!"

But at last she began to recover, and the first day that we heard the good news from nurse, "The doctor says she'll do nicely now," Honey turned to me with earnest resolve in her face—

"Li, I've been fighting against God and holding back all this time. Now I will give myself up to Him. I want to be a Christian like you. I have been miserable about myself ever since you altered so. Tell me what to do."

I tried to tell her, but somehow it was not very easy until I got hold of my Bible, and then that made it clear. I made her look at "Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out."

And then she said, "That will do, Li," and left the room.

I did not go near her, but put up a tiny prayer to God that He would take her as I felt He had taken me, and again I thanked Him for answered prayer.

It was some days before Honey felt sure of herself, but at last she seemed to get the peace of mind she was wanting.

"It is so good of God to have been so patient with me," she said. "I believe if Taters had not been nearly killed, I should never have made up my mind; but I never felt before how quickly we could die. Oh, Li, suppose Taters had been killed on the spot!"

I shuddered. "God has saved her," I said, "and now we must pray for her. I should like her to start too. Wouldn't it be splendid if we three were all of the same mind before the boys came back from their holidays?"

Taters was much impressed during her illness, but she disappointed us when she was well again, for she seemed more thoughtless than ever.

Miss Moffat comforted me when I talked it over with her, by saying, "God has been good in letting you reap two of your family, my child. Go on praying and working, and remember, with you young people, that the life tells more than the words."

"And I suppose it teaches us to be patient and persevering in prayer!"

Miss Moffat nodded and smiled. "'Let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.'"

THE END

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