CHAPTER XIII

A WONDERFUL LEGACY

FAITH did get better, very slowly. And it was a happy day for Charity and Hope when they were able to go over from the Hall and see her sitting up and taking notice of everybody once again. She looked very small and white, and spoke languidly, as if it were too much trouble to get her words out, but she listened to her sisters' account of their days at the Hall with much interest.

"I ride on a pony every afternoon," said Hope with pride. "Tommy is much faster than Topsy. I go for rides with Sir George, and yesterday we rode into town, and I saw Mrs. Vale sitting in her window, and she nodded to me!"

"And I drove out with Lady Melville," said Charity, "and we went to tea with some friends of hers, and they said the war would soon be over, perhaps by Christmas."

Faith smiled, but made no comment on these bits of news; then she asked:

"Have you seen Timothy?"

"Not lately," answered Charity.

"I should like to see him," said Faith slowly.

Aunt Alice was in the room and heard her wish.

"Then you shall see him, darling. Charity, you can call at his cottage on your way home. Ask him to come the first day he can."

So Charity and Hope called at the little cottage.

The woods were just now in their autumn colours. Blackberries were fast getting ripe, and nuts lay ready on the ground to pick up. They lingered by the way to enjoy it all, and then they found Timothy outside, getting an armful of firewood. Sandy bounded forward to meet them.

When Hope patted his head and spoke to him, he whined a little and moved away.

"He's disappointed 'tisn't Miss Faith," said Timothy; "how is the little dear?"

"She wants to see you," said Charity; "will you go and see her as soon as you can? Aunt Alice told us to ask you."

"Ay, surely I will. Bless her little heart, there's not a day but I wonders how she is. I've missed her sorely. And I'm not the only one."

"No," said Hope with an understanding nod; "it is everybody that misses Faith. We wonder why, because we thought her rather quiet and dull sometimes, but we don't now. We know how we miss her, but we don't quite understand why the village people talk about her so."

"'Tis just her little winning way and her big heart," said Timothy; "and then when she talks to folk, she has always something big to talk about."

"How do you mean?" asked Charity.

Old Timothy rubbed his head slowly. It was a way he had when he was thinking.

"I was reading in the Book t'other day," he said, "and it made me think how the little maid be as good as her name. Do you remember the gran' chapter of the heroes who lived by faith? 'Tis said amongst the list of their noble doin's, that 'through faith they obtained promises,' and 'out of weakness were made strong.' Now, through Miss Faith talkin' I know more than one body hereabout who have obtained most precious promises and have been made strong!"

Charity and Hope were silent. They wished the old man good-bye and went on to the Hall.

"I don't understand Timothy," said Hope at last, "he talks as if Faith preaches to people."

"No, she just talks," said Charity, "but I suppose she talks about the Things we don't talk about, and it does people good."

Hope said nothing more, but the little girls found themselves repeating to Lady Melville what the old man had said.

"Children are rather prigs when they talk goody," said Charity—"at least, we think they are; but Timothy seemed to say that Faith had been doing great things just like the Bible people."

"I don't think little Faith is at all a prig," said Lady Melville gently; "you know if we are very full of anything we can't help talking about it. It bubbles up at once like a little spring in the ground which gets over full when a storm of rain comes. Faith has a great realisation of the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, and because she believes He makes every sad person happy, she talks to everybody who is sad, about Him. She can't help doing it. Dear little Faith! Why, even when she talks to me, I feel myself stronger in my faith when she goes away!"

The little girls were silent for a moment. Then Charity said:

"I suppose she practises her name. Granny often tells us we ought to make our names good. When I grow up and get rich, I shall give a lot of money away in charity; then I shall be acting out my name, shan't I?"

Lady Melville smiled.

"It is rather strange, but in the chapter in the Bible which tells about your name it says that you can give all your goods to feed the poor, and yet have no charity. You may do it to get praise from God, or from men, and not because you love them. We have false ideas of charity. It means love. You can love God, and everybody, if you are quite poor, and so be acting out your name now."

Charity thought over this.

"It says Charity is better than Hope or Faith," said Hope; "I wonder why. Charity often reminds me and Faith of that."

Charity hung her head.

"Well," said Lady Melville cheerfully, "I often tell you that you have all three beautiful names which ought to inspire you. Faith acts out hers without knowing it. If I were Charity, I should always try to be kind and loving to all, and not to think about myself at all, only of pleasing others. And if I were Hope, I should try to fill my mind with all the beautiful things we are told to hope for."

"I think my name is most difficult of all," said Hope, "because everything you hope for is always on in front of you; you never seem to catch it up!"

"Well," said Lady Melville smiling, "if we have got a sure hope of everything beautiful and happy coming to us in the future, we shan't mind about present troubles, and we shall be very happy people. You told me the other day that when Dr. Evans said there was hope of Faith's getting well again, you were so happy that nothing else seemed to matter. That is how we should all live. Nothing matters very much in this world because we have such beautiful, wonderful hopes about the next."

The little girls said no more, but they remembered Lady Melville's talk about their names, and it did them good.

They were very happy at the Hall, and very soon the day came when Granny said she could have them back at the cottage again. Faith was an invalid still. She seemed to be a long time in getting back her health and strength, but she was able to play with her dolls again, and go out for little walks; and she was bright and cheerful, and able now to talk nearly as fast as Charity and Hope.

Her birthday was the beginning of November. The children had a holiday. Charity and Hope went into town to buy her a birthday present. Their Aunt Alice was with them, and they had quite an exciting afternoon, for Aunt Alice took them to tea at the pastry-cook's, and the shops were very gay with preparations for Christmas. To add to their joy, they met Charlie and his mother, and Charlie was full of business. He had come into town to buy Faith a birthday present, and he took Charity and Hope off to a toyshop, whilst Mrs. Evans and Aunt Alice went into uninteresting shops, such as the grocer's and the linen-draper's.

"You see, I must get her something nice, because I made her ill," said Charlie; "at least, that is what father and mother say, but of course I didn't mean to. And what do you think I am going to buy her?"

The little girls could not guess.

"A box of fretwork tools. I had one once on my birthday, but my tools are broken and lost. It will be just the thing for Faith, for she can make things indoors, and I will come over and help her."

"That will be lovely," said Charity enthusiastically, "Hope and I are going to put our money together to make it more. We haven't very much only two shillings and fourpence."

They roamed round the toyshop. First they thought of a watering-can, but then they remembered that winter was coming and the flowers were over, so that Faith would not be able to use it for a long time. Then Hope suggested a paint box, but Faith was not so fond of painting as Charity was, so that was given up.

At last they saw a very cheap set of doll's tea things for half-a-crown. Aunt Alice, good-naturedly, had told them she would make their money up to 2s. 6d., so they got it.

"The cups will be quite big enough for us to drink out of," said Hope; "we can use them when we have feasts."

So the tea-set was bought. Granny's present for Faith was a little blue-knitted jacket to keep her warm when she went out. Granny had made it all herself. And Aunt Alice had bought her a little brown muff. There was great excitement when they got home that evening. Faith went to bed very early now; and after she was out of the way, the presents were all wrapped up in paper, and little tickets attached with the names of donors.

Somehow this birthday of Faith's seemed to be an extra important day. They could not help remembering how very nearly they had lost her.

And then Aunt Alice told Charity and Hope a secret, which was that old Mr. Cardwell had left a present for Faith which he had told his son to give her on her next birthday. The "Pirate" had left this with Aunt Alice before he went away, and Aunt Alice produced it now. It looked like a box, but Aunt Alice said she believed it was the old man's cabinet of coins which he had once showed to Faith. It was all carefully wrapped up in brown paper.

The next morning Charity and Hope were up early. Faith still had her breakfast in bed, but they were allowed to take their presents in before. As Faith sat up in bed unwrapping all her parcels, her little fingers trembled with excitement. There were cries of ecstasy over every one of the gifts. Faith was always easy to please. The tea-set was what she had always longed for, Granny's jacket was almost too grand to wear, and the muff was a luxury she had never before experienced. Charlie's box of fretwork was most entrancing; she longed to begin testing the tools at once; and then old Mr. Cardwell's present was slowly opened, with flushed cheeks, and shining eyes.

"Oh! Oh! It's his beautiful cabinet with all the old, old money in it! Look at the tiny drawers, and all the coins in different parts!"

Faith clasped her hands and almost cried.

"It seems as if he is alive," she said. "Oh! I wish he was! I wish he was!"

Charity and Hope were both as interested as she was in peeping into all the little drawers, and seeing all the varieties of ancient coin. Then in the bottom drawer Faith found a sealed envelope with her name written upon it. She looked at it with awe, for it was addressed by old Mr. Cardwell himself.

And then the next moment Aunt Alice was summoned to the room by the excited screams of the children.

"Granny! Aunt Alice! Quick! Faith has got one hundred pounds!"

It was true. The cheque in Faith's shaking hands was for one hundred pounds to be paid to Miss Faith Blair, and the little note was as follows:

"MY DEAR LITTLE MISS MOTH,

"I shall be gone away from you when you receive this, for I do not mean you to have it till after my death; and you will not get it until your birthday. It is in remembrance of a grateful old man, and, knowing your careful little soul, I want you to spend this money whilst you are young, in the best way that you can. Don't hoard it. Spend it on yourself and on others. There are no conditions attached to it. I humbly hope that you and I may one day meet each other again in that Land where you tell me everyone is welcome.

"Your old friend, "W. CARDWELL."

Aunt Alice seemed stricken dumb, but she read the letter through, and passed it to Granny, who began to wipe her spectacles when she had finished it.

"Is it true?" asked Faith. "Can it be true that I've got a hundred pounds?"

"Yes, dear, it is. I'm sure I had no idea that such a present was in store for you."

Then Aunt Alice began to fold up the pieces of stray paper scattered over the bed.

"We must talk about it after breakfast," she said; "come along, children."

Charity and Hope went to their breakfast; but their talk was full of this wonderful gift.

"Why," said Charity, "Faith could buy a cottage of her own, couldn't she, with a hundred pounds?"

Aunt Alice laughed.

"Oh, no," cried Hope; "she wouldn't want anything uninteresting like that. She could buy a pony, and a saddle, and build a beautiful little stable for him all her own."

Granny began to smile now.

"We know that Charity would like a cottage, and Hope a pony, but what about Faith herself?"

"Oh, Faith never wants much," said Charity, "she's so easily pleased."

"And that is why old Mr. Cardwell could trust her with such a lot of money," said Aunt Alice, "he knew she wouldn't want to buy useless luxuries."

After breakfast, Faith was dressed, and brought downstairs. There was a bright fire in the cheerful living room where they generally sat, and before very long, Charlie arrived to give his best wishes for Faith's birthday, and to examine with her the contents of the fretwork box. He was much impressed when he heard the news.

"Why, you could buy a motor," he said; "that's what I should do."

But Faith's ambition did not lie in that direction.

"We have Topsy, and Granny's carriage, that's much nicer than a motor," she said.

"Well, what are you going to do with it?" he asked.

Faith looked dreamily into the fire. She was sitting in the old armchair, and a round table was pushed up to her side.

"I haven't got to settle to-day," she said. "I don't want to spend it all on one thing, I want to get lots of things."

"Make out a list, Faith," urged Charity. "Do it now."

But Faith would not be hurried. And Charlie was so anxious to start her cutting out patterns on wood with her fretwork saw, that she soon gave her whole attention to that. Charlie went home after lunch, but he was invited to come to tea, for there was a birthday cake, and Faith was going to pour out tea. Outside, it was wet and stormy, but the children were perfectly happy indoors that day, and Charity and Hope wrote down long lists of things that they would like Faith to buy with her money.

She was very tired when the exciting birthday was over; and when she was being tucked up into bed by her aunt, she said a little sadly:

"How can I thank Mr. Cardwell, Aunt Alice? It seems so dreadful not to take any notice, and not to thank him."

"It is what people call a legacy, dear. Only it was left to you in such a strange way. Nobody can thank for legacies, as they are left to them after the giver dies."

Faith lay still for a moment, then she said softly:

"Do you think that I might pray to God and ask Him if He would thank him for me. Would it be reverent to ask God to do that?"

"Yes, dear, I think you could pray about it."

So Faith waited till her aunt had left the room, and then she folded her hands and prayed in a whisper:

"Please, God, will you be so kind as to thank Mr. Cardwell for me, and will you tell him what a happy birthday I have had, and what an astonishing surprise it was to get that cabinet, and how I can hardly believe I have a hundred pounds all my own. I do thank him very, very much, and I thank you for letting me have it. Amen."

Downstairs Aunt Alice was saying to Granny:

"I hope it won't turn the child's head. Of course, it is much too big a sum to be handled by her. What should you advise, mother?"

"We must persuade her to put it into the bank for the present, and only draw a little at a time. He was a strange old man."

"Fred had no idea that it was anything beyond a cabinet. I must write to him about it, for of course this cheque can't be honoured."

Granny looked grave.

"I suppose not. The child may have trouble in getting the money."

"Oh, Fred is all right."

Granny smiled wisely, but said no more.

Charity and Hope were both dreaming of lovely palaces, and dogs and horses, and golden sovereigns, rolling down the streets.

But Faith slept deeply, and hardly dreamt at all. She only seemed when she woke in the morning to have been talking with her old friend once more. And their talk was not about the money at all. It was about the Comforter.