CHAPTER IV

INFLUENCE

Sunday dawned fair and sweet. A sharp shower during the night had freshened the garden and watered the parched ground, which had drunk the moisture up greedily, carrying it down to the roots of the grass and already bringing back the resurrection colour to the brown dried blades in the meadows.

Breakfast passed away without incident. Beyond the usual morning greeting, the young people remained very quiet, and gave only monosyllabic answers to Margaret's attempts at conversation.

Ellice was doubtful as to the consequences of last night's escapade; it was one sign of triumph for the new governess that the child was already growing uneasy, uncertain of herself. She had an affectionate nature really, and it cost her something to steel her heart so persistently against this certainly interesting looking girl who had come to teach her. If Ellice had spoken the truth, she could have owned what she would not admit to herself, that she was longing to make friends, and to get a chance of hearing more stories; but having vaunted the fact to James and Betsy that she never meant to have a governess, the cost to her pride prevented her from giving in.

Miss Woodford guessed her attitude of mind, and was determined to wait patiently, although she had been tempted more than once to resign the post; but--and there was always that but--if this was the chosen work to which she was called, there must be no truckling with a faint heart. No looking back after once having put her hand to the plough, however heavy the furrows might prove, or long and dreary the appointed task.

Bob ate his breakfast in the greatest discomfort; he was really burning with a sense of shame, and making up his mind to an unpleasant duty.

The meal over, Margaret left the house and wandered out into the garden. It was a dear old-fashioned place, with grassy paths bowered with pergolas of roses. Great hedges of tangerine and amethyst pea-blooms filled the air with sweetness. Hollyhocks leaned their tall stems against the ancient garden wall, the old brickwork--a dream of subdued colour--forming a rich background to the brilliant hues of the flowers.

Margaret drank it all in with a breath of delight. The place was rife with roses raising their heads in the sunshine, cooled by the dew-drops glistening on their petals. Zinneas in all shades, and geraniums in massed pinks and scarlet, lined the borders, with gleams of orange eschscholtzia and dainty violas all stretching upward to the golden glory of the sky, while around them fluttered the butterflies, and to Margaret's ears came the sweet hot sound of the song of the humming bees and the murmur of insects talking in the grass.

The girl herself gave just the needed touch of human life to intensify the charm of the scene as she stood looking down at the wealth of flowers. One thought filled her mind with a thrill of praise to the Giver of all good, "How can anyone see these wonders of creation, and catch the sweet fragrance of roses, and doubt God's love, I wonder? Every flower that blooms proves that."

Unconsciously the thought filling her heart had been spoken aloud, and Bob, coming softly down the grassy path, approaching her unheard, caught the words and paused a moment, his attention drawn for the first time in his life to the beauty of nature, and the love message it brings.

Margaret was aroused by a voice at her elbow saying a little nervously:

"Can I speak to you, Miss Woodford?"

"Oh, it's Bob! Certainly!" she answered, an inviting ring in her voice.

"I--I'm awfully sorry about last night--I want you--to--know," he said hesitatingly, his face crimson with shame. "Will you try to--to forget it?" he stammered.

"Why, of course!" answered Margaret. "I shall never think of it again."

"I feel such a beastly cad," he finished.

"Well, for the future remember you are a gentleman, Bob, and that '_manners makyth man_,' and you will find it easier to behave as one. And shall we make up our minds to be friends?" she added, holding out her hand with a winning smile. "Come, what do you say?"

"Rather!" answered the boy, and then, breaking away, rushed with lightning speed to the house.

Later in the day Margaret came upon the young people uninterestedly turning over the leaves of story-books, weary of themselves and each other, and not on speaking terms. She had appeared upon the scene at the close of a heated argument, in which Ellice considered Bob had turned traitor by taking up the cudgels on Margaret's behalf.

When he left her so hurriedly in the morning, Margaret hoped she had gained ground with him; but she little knew that the interview meant a big victory, and that Bob Medhurst's allegiance was won for all time.

Now, as she looked at the two, she ventured:

"I have a proposal. What do you say to taking our tea to the woods, and then I'll tell you a story, if you like?"

"Oh, yes--yes," exclaimed Ellice, full of animation at once, and forgetful of all her former animosity.

"Come along then," said Margaret; "let's get a basket from Betsy."

In a few minutes everything was prepared, and the three set off for Wychfield Glade.

It was a perfect afternoon, and Margaret's heart felt lighter as they followed the mossy path which led through the forest to the avenue. Bob's manner showed a subtle change:

"Please let me carry that for you, Miss Woodford," he said shyly, holding out his hand for the tea-basket.

"It's awfully heavy," remarked his small sister, in a loud whisper.

He brushed the remark aside with a look which said plainly, "You shut up."

Margaret accepted the offer with a smile of thanks as she gave up the burden.

"It's very nice to have a gentleman to help one," she said quietly.

The boy coloured slightly. After all, he was his father's son, and knew the attitude of a young savage was unworthy of him, and the role not really satisfactory to himself, although he was not aware that one of the commands of God given in His Word is "Be courteous."

It was quite good fun hunting for wood and arranging a gipsy fire to boil the kettle.

Finding it was too early for tea, Ellice clamoured for the promised story.

"A fairy one," she demanded.

"Not to-day, dear," was the answer.

"Why?" asked the child vexedly.

"Because it's Sunday, and we might think of something more useful."

"Oh, bother! we don't want a Sunday one. Miss Warner tried to make us read a Bible chapter when she was here. We wouldn't, so she read one out loud, and then asked us questions. We didn't answer, did we, Bob?"

"No," replied Bob shortly, but he didn't look at Miss Woodford as he made the admission.

"Oh, it _was_ dry," continued Ellice, "and we didn't understand it. You are not going to do anything like that, are you?" and the child's voice sounded a little entreatingly as she put the question.

"No," Margaret answered, with a smile. "I want to tell you a little bit about the life of a boy whom we read of in the Bible; there is nothing dry in the whole of his history, at least I don't think so. You can tell me what _you_ think afterwards, if you like."

Ellice seemed satisfied with this, and with a good grace settled down to listen. Bob showed no sign either way as to whether he was interested or not.

The hush of the forest was all about them, the wind whispered in the branches of the trees, insects chirped gaily in the undergrowth, and birds and squirrels held busy conclave around their homesteads, but there was nothing to interrupt Margaret Woodford as she began her Sunday talk.

"At an old country house in Kent, when it was under repair, and the workmen were putting down a new floor, in one of the top rooms, underneath the worn-out boards, they found a letter dated 1600, one that had been written to those who lived there centuries before. The letter was so discoloured with age, that although the men who unearthed it stopped their work and stood looking at it for some time, they were disappointed to find they were unable to read any of its contents. But they could not help wondering who wrote it, and what it was all about.

"Now in your home you have got some much older letters than that one. They were written to a young man nearly 2,000 years ago, and you can decipher every word of them, and know where they were sent from, and to whom they were written, and a great deal in connection with the writer. They are such interesting letters that I want to tell you something about them, and then you can read them for yourselves.

"Nearly two thousand years ago there lived in a village in Asia Minor, called Lystra, an old Jewish woman named Lois, and living with her was her daughter Eunice, and her husband who was a Greek, and probably therefore a heathen; and also their little son, a boy named Timothy, and this boy was the one who had those wonderful old letters you have got at home, written to him, all those long, long years ago. You will find them in your Bible; they are called the First and Second Book of Timothy.

"Now, in God's Word we are told something of what kind of a boy Timothy was, and I think if you and I had known him then, we should have been able to say, 'He's not a bad sort,' because he grew up to be a very brave man, and a brave man generally means a plucky boy, doesn't it? We all of us despise cowards, don't we? And so I think we should have liked Timothy."

Bob nodded assent, and even Ellice was interested, although the story was a Sunday one!

"Timothy's home was in a town in the country of Lycaonia," continued Margaret. "The district round it is rather desolate and bare of trees, and as it was not a very big place, I expect it was fairly quiet.

"Timothy would be busy learning lessons in those days, and, among other things, he was taught by his grandmother and his mother the stories in the Old Testament, a great part of which Jewish boys had to learn by heart. One day a great excitement happened in the village, a missionary travelling through the country stopped at Lystra to preach the Gospel, which means good news, that Jesus Christ, the Son of God (Who had lately been put to death at Jerusalem), was _their_ God and Saviour, Who had died and risen from the dead, and gone back to Heaven, and would forgive all their sins, and help them to live for Him, and afterwards receive them into His glory.

"That _was_ good news, and if Lois and Eunice went to hear that Gospel preaching, as I think they did, I know they must have enjoyed it, for we also know that later they both became Christians. The missionary, who came to preach at Lystra, was really the Great Apostle, St. Paul.

"We can picture the boy Timothy standing among the crowd, probably listening to this new teacher, when presently St. Paul caught the earnest eyes of a poor lame man gazing at him, with an expression which seemed to convey to him that he believed all he was saying, and could trust the power of this Great God Whom he preached--the Lord Jesus. And Paul, '_perceiving he had faith to be healed, said with a loud voice, "Stand upright on thy feet." And he leaped and walked._' (Acts. xiv. 9-10.)

"Then the poor, ignorant people, when they saw what was done, cried out, '_The gods are come down to us in the likeness of men._' And Barnabas, who was with St. Paul, and was the elder of the two men, they called Jupiter, and the Great Apostle by the name of Jupiter's son, Mercurius--you know, of course, there are no real gods of those names, only the One true God we worship.

"But these poor heathen did not know that, so their priest brought garlands to crown the Apostles, and oxen to sacrifice to them, and St. Paul and Barnabas were dreadfully distressed, and rent their clothes (a thing Eastern people used to do to show their distress), and ran among them, exclaiming, '_Sirs, why do ye these things? We also are men of like passions with you, and preach unto you that ye should turn from these vanities unto the living God, Which made heaven, and earth, and the sea, and all things that are therein: Who in times past suffered all nations to walk in their own ways. Nevertheless He left not Himself without witness, in that He did good, and gave us rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness._'

"'_And with these sayings scarce restrained they the people, that they had not done sacrifice unto them._' (Acts xiv. 15-18.)

"What a commotion there must have been in the village, the people crying out that the gods had come down from the sky to speak to them, and rushing to help the priest to drive the animal to sacrifice, and bring the garlands to crown the missionaries. Perhaps the boy Timothy saw all this. I think he must have, as it happened near his home, and if so, how interested he would be when St. Paul explained to them about the One true God Timothy had read about in the old Jewish law books--the Old Testament, which had taught him, that 'God made the heaven and earth, the sea and all that therein is.' And if Timothy listened on those other days when St. Paul preached, he must have learned too that the Great God he knew, was Jesus Christ, Who had died on Calvary, and would save him from his sins and help him to lead a Christian life.

"There was something else which happened at Lystra a few days after the Gospel preaching: some men came to the village from Antioch and stirred up the people of Lystra against St. Paul, and persuaded them so strongly against him, that they took up stones and tried to stone him to death. When St. Paul was writing to the Corinthian people long after, and telling them about his life and its sorrows, he said, '_Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned._' (2 Cor. xi. 25.) And that was the time we have just been talking about.

"We can imagine Timothy rushing into the house and crying out, 'Oh, mother, mother, they are stoning the great preacher to death!' and possibly his grandmother and Eunice running back with him to learn all that was happening.

"We know that St. Paul became unconscious, and was dragged out of the city and left by his enemies for dead. But presently the disciples--the Christians who loved him--saw him recover consciousness, and he was able to stand up, and went into the city, and the next day left the town with Barnabas, and went to Derbe. But only for a little while, for he soon returned again to Lystra, and visited the Christians there, talking to them and persuading them to try and be very brave. I think it was no doubt that then Timothy gave up his heart to Jesus Christ, and decided to become his faithful soldier and servant to his life's end.

"Shall I go on?" said Margaret, appealing to Ellice directly.

"Yes, please--I think I like it," answered the little girl.

With a smile Margaret continued:

"I said just now that Timothy was a plucky boy; I'll tell you why I think so. It is not pleasant to be laughed at for our religion, is it? We need a little courage when that happens; but think what it meant to Timothy to be a Christian. He not only risked being made fun of by other Jewish boys in Lystra, but he stood a chance of being put to death by the heathen, the worshippers of Jupiter, who lived in the same town with himself.

"When he was a little older, he joined St. Paul, and went with him on some of his preaching-tours, and was ordained a minister of the Gospel, and was arrested in Rome and made a prisoner just because he was a believer in Jesus Christ. We read in the Bible about his release from prison.

"Later he came to Ephesus, and was made Bishop of that great city while he was still a young man, and in St. Paul's first letter to him he writes and tells him how to manage his congregation; and to tell all the children to be good to their fathers and mothers, and as they get older to try and return some of the care they have received from them, by helping them all they can. He says, '_Let the children show kindness at home, and requite their parents, for that is good and acceptable with God._'

"And then he tells Timothy what he is to be like himself: how he is to show the world--that is, all in his own home, all in his congregations, all in that great heathen city--that he is really and truly a follower of Jesus Christ. He says, '_Let no man despise thy youth; but be thou an example of the believers, in word, conversation, charity, spirit, faith, purity._' Six things, you see, in which Timothy could _prove_ his Christianity; six things God wanted of him; six things God expects of _us_ if we are His soldiers and servants. It's no use our saying we love Him, unless we prove it to Him by our lives. I want you two, Bob and Ellice, to think about that for yourselves. Will _you_ love the Lord Jesus Christ?--will you have Him for your King?"

The two appealed to so directly made no answer, but although there was silence, the question had gone home.

"If so," continued Margaret, "_prove_ you are in earnest, for God says, 'If ye love Me, keep My commandments.'"

There was silence for a little. Ellice moved uneasily, but Bob sat gazing thoughtfully down the avenue, a new expression of seriousness on his merry face. He was a schoolboy, and not keen on pi talk, but this was different from anything he had heard before. Miss Woodford again took up the thread of the story.

"Now, how was Timothy to prove the reality of his religion in _Truth_? He was to speak the truth, be honest and honourable in _all_ he said; that was what it meant. Think of that next time you are tempted to tell a lie--will you? God despises lies, He hates them, He calls them an abomination--which is a big strong word, isn't it?

"I know a boy who knew he could not be found out if he told a lie as to the time he had spent preparing his lessons, saying he had given an hour's study to them, because his master would accept his word whatever he said; but if he admitted he had only given ten minutes to it, he would be punished. Yet that boy, when he was asked, 'Did you give half an hour to this lesson as I told you?' answered, 'No, sir.'

"'How long then?'

"'A few minutes, sir.'

"The punishment followed, but when it was over, the boy was happy with a clear conscience--far happier than if he had lied.

"That boy wasn't a prig--a namby-pamby sort; he was a thorough-going, sporting Christian, the same sort as Timothy must have been. The sort God wants.

"A Christian in _word_. In conversation.

"We are to be examples of Christians in all we say. Are we always? We fail by exaggerating things sometimes, don't we? Perhaps we declare we hate people when we only don't like them much."

Ellice coloured consciously.

"I know another boy," went on Margaret, "who, when his school-fellows were talking nasty talk, not only wouldn't join in, but said to the others, 'Shut up, we won't have anything of that sort here,' and by his influence stopped it. Even if he hadn't succeeded, in trying he was doing what God wanted, wasn't he?"

Bob nodded thoughtfully.

"We must also show we are Christians, in charity--that is, love.

"Isn't it a rule in all bands of the Boy Scouts, or at least in some, that everyone should do a kind action, at least once a day?"

"Yes, I've heard of that," said Bob.

"It's a good rule. Supposing we three begin to-day to try and follow it.

"In the paper some time ago, I read, a Boy Scout saw the wind blow over a whole bale of goods outside a draper's shop, and immediately, to fulfil his duty--not to get a tip--he crossed the road, set to work to pick everything up, put it straight, and then went happily on his way. That boy was obeying God's command of love.

"We are also to prove our Christianity by _Our Faith_. A little girl told her clergyman _she_ knew she was a Christian, because she had asked the Lord Jesus to blot out all her sins, and to give her a new heart and save her. The minister asked her, 'How do you know Jesus heard you and saved you?' She answered, 'Because He has promised to do it in the Bible, and I am sure _He cannot break His promise_.' In that answer she showed she had faith, she believed in God, and what He would do for her.

"There is one more thing mentioned in Timothy's letter which God wants of us. We are to be Christians, in purity.

"Not only are we not to say impure, or nasty words, but we are not to do nasty things. God is always watching, never forget it, and He says '_Be ye holy, even as I am holy._' And if we think _how_ pure God is, Who cannot sin, we shall see how pure He wants us to try to be, and He will certainly give us strength to resist all such temptations it we ask Him.

"I have read of a boy who was being tempted to sin. His persecutor said, 'I will beat you to death if you do not give up this religion which makes you refuse to do wrong.' The boy answered, 'I would rather be beaten to death than offend the Lord Jesus.'

"The brave answer made his persecutor release him, and not only that, but he began to think there must be some great strength about these Christians that they are able to resist evil. Get your Bibles out to-night, and read for yourselves 1 Timothy iv. 11, 12, a bit of Timothy's old letter, and remember God has sent it to you both, not only to tell you about him, but how to grow like him, and be a good follower of the King of kings."

"Did Timothy stick to it all, Miss Woodford?" asked Bob interestedly.

"History answers 'yes,' for years after, when he was at Ephesus, a very wicked city, where the inhabitants were given up to idolatry, superstition, and sin, one day when he was preaching to a great crowd, they set upon him in their heathen fury and killed him. So you see this brave man, who must always have lived in danger of losing his life, this plucky boy, died a martyr's death--and so gave up his life for the Saviour he had loved so long."

The story was finished, and no one spoke for a little while. Ellice moved away to gather wild flowers, and Bob busied himself throwing acorns at the birds. Presently he said quietly:

"I should have liked to have known that chap, Miss Woodford; seems a pity he's dead."

"And yet alive, Bob, for evermore. Perhaps you will know him in that other life--choose the same King?" she said softly. "Think what an interesting world the next life means, and the number of Old Testament people, as well as New Testament ones, we shall meet--and, above all, Bob, live in the company of the Lord Himself."

"Umph!--I can fancy them all marching singing up to the throne, but I don't think I--shall--ever get in; I shall never be fit."

The boy's voice was husky as he said these words, then he turned over and lay face downwards on the ground.

"_If we confess our sins He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness,_" said Margaret. "You see, He has promised, and He never fails us, though we often disappoint Him--ask Him for yourself"; and with this Margaret went to join Ellice, just pleading silently in her own heart that the Holy Spirit of God would plant and water the seed she had tried to sow, and cause it to spring up into everlasting life.

Half an hour later, when she and Ellice returned with a basket full of wild flowers and fern roots, there was no trace of seriousness about Bob; he just seemed overflowing with fun. Margaret wondered; but she knew how to leave all results with God.

The tea was a merry one--once only Ellice tried to be disobedient. To her utter surprise Bob said sharply: "Shut up, and do what you are told, and don't worry Miss Woodford."

Sheer astonishment held Ellice silent. It looked as if her best supporter was quite going over to the enemy!

From her bedroom window Mrs. Medhurst watched the trio, when they started out to the woods, with an air of surprise.

"Do look, Gordon!" she exclaimed; "Miss Woodford has gone down the drive with Ellice, and Bob has actually gone with them."

Mr. Medhurst rose from his seat and looked over his wife's shoulder.

"I think I can congratulate you on your choice of a governess this time, Lucille; it really looks as if she'll stay"--and he laughed as he spoke. "Perhaps our youngsters are not much worse than other people's after all," he continued. "You spoil Bob, and I suppose we both spoil Ellice; let's hope Miss Woodford will counteract the mischief."

"Oh, you are always hard on Bob, Gordon! I can't think why."

"Hard, am I? There seems a good deal of necessity, I think; but there, I confess I don't understand boys."

"I wish I was strong; I would love to have taken them out with me like that," said Mrs. Medhurst; she spoke wistfully, with a far-away look of unrest in her dark eyes.

"You might do a little more. You could if you tried, don't you think?"

"I can't--go--out," she said wearily, "but I like my flowers."

"The garden has done well, hasn't it?" he said. "I did just what you suggested, dear, simply massed all the brightest colours together, and, as you say, Nature seems to be her own best artist, and makes them blend perfectly. You must come with me this evening and see what the rain has done. Now have a rest until tea-time."

He arranged his wife's cushions with deft fingers as of a nurse, and Mrs. Medhurst lay down again upon her couch, while her husband resumed his reading.