CHAPTER III

LITTLE ELLA'S PRAYER

DR. SOAMES then re-seated himself in the carriage, with the poor little dripping burden in his arms, the coachman being bidden to drive with all possible speed to Berryland Hall. Little did Mrs. Snowden dream, as she made her way homewards in the January dusk, of the trouble and anxiety which were awaiting her. Her visit to Rose Cottage had been of a most unsatisfactory nature, the little maid there informing her that "Missis didn't want to see any visitors, and that Miss Ella was suffering great pain with her arm."

The lady was so unused to being treated in this manner, that her feelings were considerably hurt. Upon arriving home, however, all else was forgotten in the shock of hearing of little Marcia's accident.

The news was broken to her by the doctor himself, who at the same time informed her that the child's condition was more or less critical.

The first one to bring the tidings to Rose Cottage was the baker's boy, who gave Molly, Mrs. Russell's maid, a most vivid and graphic account of the whole affair, the story losing nothing in the telling.

Molly, with big round eyes, made her way into her mistress's presence as soon as the boy had gone, the loaf still in her hand.

"What's the matter, Molly?" said Mrs. Russell in a thin querulous voice. She was sitting, with little Ella by her side, over a small fire in the tiny parlour.

"Poor little Miss Marcia, up at the Hall, has been nearly drowned," was the reply; "the baker's boy don't think she'll live out the day, and Mrs. Snowden is fit to break her heart over it."

Little Ella's face, pale already from the effects of her accident, grew paler than ever.

"Oh, Grannie," she cried, "it can't be true. I saw her pass only a day or two ago, and she looks such a darling little girl."

Ella, from her standpoint of ten years, felt quite grown up compared with little Marcia.

"I'm afraid, Ella, there's some truth in it," replied the old lady; "I saw the doctor going to the Hall quite early this morning."

Ella looked ready to cry. "Couldn't you go and call, Grannie," said the little girl pleadingly, "to see how she is? Just think how kind her brother was to me! Oh, if only we could do something for them!"

A little flush came into Mrs. Russell's withered cheeks.

"Oh no, I couldn't think of it," she answered sharply. "Molly can go up with my card and make inquiries; that will be quite sufficient."

Little Ella subsided into silence, and a short while afterwards she made her way upstairs to the tiny bedroom which she occupied, there to shed tears of pity for Marcia. Then, on a sudden, she remembered that there was something else she could do, which would be better than crying.

Certain words which her mother had said to her before she left for the Better Land, some two years previously, were wafted to her mind.

"Remember, my little Ella," she had said, "that there is nothing too big or too little to tell God about. He is our loving Heavenly Father, who has promised never to leave or forsake His children who trust in Him."

The words were as balm to the sad-hearted child, and, acting on a sudden impulse, she knelt down beside her little white bed and poured forth her soul in prayer.

"Dear Lord God," she pleaded, "I want You so much to make little Marcia Snowden well again, if it is Your holy will. And I would like to ask You something else as well, if I may. Please will You let us all be friends, Mrs. Snowden and the boys and girls up at the Hall. I feel so lonely, dear Lord God, sometimes, with my dear daddy so far away, and mother up in heaven with You. And please make me a good little girl, and kind and loving to Grannie, for Jesus' sake, Amen."

After this petition, somehow little Ella felt better.

"Now," said she to herself, "I am going to wait God's answer. I feel certain He has heard me, although heaven is such a long way off."

At this moment her Grannie called her downstairs, and, dashing away the teardrops from her eyes, the little maid obeyed with a cheerful heart.

* * * *

Two days later Kenneth Snowden presented himself at Rose Cottage with a note from his mother to Mrs. Russell. The old lady, bidding the boy be seated in the tiny parlour, opened it and read as follows—

"DEAR MRS. RUSSELL,

"I am writing to ask a great favour of you, and that is, if you will spare your little Ella to us for this afternoon and evening. Marcia (who, I am thankful to say, is now well on the road to recovery—in fact, she is coming down to nursery tea to-day) has expressed a great wish for your little grand-daughter's society, and, as the child is still weak and ailing, you would be doing a very real kindness if you would allow Ella to come. We will be mindful of her broken arm, and take every care of her. Please send word by Kenneth if you will, and let it be 'Yes.'

"With kind regards,

"Believe me, yours sincerely,

"ISABEL SNOWDEN."

Mrs. Russell, after reading the note, looked a little perplexed. Then she handed the epistle to Ella, whose eyes danced for joy as she perused it.

Kenneth, watching her meanwhile, decided she was quite "the jolliest little girl" he had ever seen.

"Oh, Grannie dear," she cried; "do let me go. Please say 'Yes.'"

As a refusal would not only be discourteous, but very unkind, Mrs. Russell somewhat unwillingly gave permission, and so commenced a friendship betwixt Rose Cottage and Berryland Hall, a friendship which was destined to bring much pleasure into little Ella's otherwise colourless existence.

What a happy afternoon it was, to be sure! Ella seemed for the time to be in a new world. Never since her father had left home had the little girl known what it meant to have any real fun or frolic. All save Gertie, who was more than a little jealous, fell in love with "Cinderella." She was so gentle, yet withal so merry and winsome.

At tea-time Kenneth and Rupert vied with each other in their attentions to the two invalids, as they called Marcia and Ella. Both children were waited upon as though they were little princesses, and very much they seemed to enjoy it too. Ella's broken arm rendered her rather helpless in some ways, but never once was she suffered to feel her crippled condition.

After tea was over, there followed a lovely chat around the nursery fire before going downstairs to Mrs. Snowden in the drawing-room.

"Let's talk about the jolliest thing that could happen in all the world," said Rupert, by way of a start.

"That would be another month's holiday," was Gertie's immediate response.

"No, it wouldn't. The nicest thing that could possibly happen would be for Uncle Phil to come home from South Africa," said Kenneth eagerly. "He's the finest chap that ever was, Cinderella," went on the boy. "The yarns he's got to tell would make your hair curl."

"It does curl now," laughed Ella, "only not so much as Gertie's and Marcia's."

"What should you like best to happen, Cinders?" said Rupert teasingly.

"Oh, to see father again!" was the quick reply. "When he comes home we are going to have such lovely times, Grannie, father and I."

"What sort of times?"

It was Gertie who spoke, with a slightly veiled sneer which was quite lost upon Ella.

"I don't know exactly," she answered; "only we shall be ever so happy."

"He'll put a glass slipper on Cinderella's foot, and just carry her right away," said Kenneth.

"Then I hope he won't come yet," cried little Marcia; "'cause we can't spare you. You'll have to go to school with us, won't you, Ella?"

Ella sighed a little sadly. "No," she said; "Grannie can't afford to send me to school—she's going to teach me herself."

"H'm!" muttered Rupert. "I should have thought she'd forgotten everything that she had learnt. Her schooldays were over so long ago."

"Oh, my Grannie's very clever!" said Ella loyally. "She plays upon the harp—fancy that!"

"So do I," was Rupert's calm statement.

"Master Rupert!" Here Nurse thought it was time to say a word. "How can you tell such stories?"

"It isn't a story, Nurse; it's as true as true, so there! I keep my harp in my pocket."

"I know what he means," laughed little Marcia, who was wonderfully recovering her spirits. "It's a penny Jew's harp."

"Clever girl!" said Rupert. "That's just what it is."

At this moment a resounding peal echoed through the house, and soon after, a cheery voice was heard in the hall below.

The children listened, then looked at one another excitedly.

"Surely it isn't—" begun Kenneth.

"Yes, it is," cried Rupert, flinging wide open the nursery door. "It's Uncle Phil home from South Africa. Hurrah! Hurrah!"