CHAPTER I.

"GO again, child, and see if the postman ben't coming down the lane! It's past nine, sure he ought to be here!"

This was the third time that old Janet Jones had sent her little Annie out into the snow, on the last day of the year. It was clear that the cottager was expecting the postman to bring her some very important letter indeed.

"No, Granny, I can't see him," said Annie, as for the third time she came back from the road, shaking the flakes from her hair, and stamping the snow from her boots. "Perhaps our old clock is wrong."

"Everything is wrong, I think," muttered Janet Jones, who was employed in taking some filberts out of a basket, to put in glasses to sell in her window. "Half these nuts are bad, and only fit for the fire!" And into the fire she flung some that were indeed but empty husks.

"Yes," went on the old woman, knitting her brows into very deep furrows, "the old year ends badly enough with me. The pig dead, the potatoes bad, the weather sharp, and the pocket empty. These be very hard times!"

"But Joe, dear Joe, is sure to send you money, Granny," said Annie, who stood leaning against the wall. She did not sit down, for she expected soon to be sent a fourth time to look for the postman.

"Joseph ought to," replied Janet, as sharply as if the child had said that her brother would send not a penny. "He, a great tall fellow, earning good wages, fifteen pounds a year, and everything found, feeding on the fat of the land, and dressed as smart as a goldfinch! It will be hard if he can't spare something for his poor old Granny in her need."

"Joe will—I know that he will. He loves you so much," cried Annie.

"We'll soon see how much," said old Janet, "words without deeds are like husks without seeds." And angrily she threw another rotten nut into the fire.

Annie, to take off her grandmother's mind from her troubles, began to tell her what she had seen the day before at the Hall, when sent up with some work done for the ladies.

"Oh! Granny, I wish you'd been with me yesterday, and seen the Christmas presents which Mrs. Poler has given her nieces! There was a doll, dressed just like a lady, and the prettiest little set of tea-things."

"What do I care about hearing of such trash," cried old Janet. "Mrs. Poler had better spend her money on buying tea for them as wants it, than on giving children tea-cups no bigger than filberts."

Annie was afraid to remind her Granny how kind Mrs. Poler had been in filling her own little apron with apples to carry home to old Janet, or to mention the hundredweight of coals which the lady had sent before Christmas. Annie only remarked, "I suppose that Mrs. Poler gives toys to her nieces because she loves them so much."

"Giving toys when one has lots of money to buy them with is no great proof of love," cried the old woman. "When these little ladies had the smallpox, Mrs. Poler never so much as went near them, for fear of catching it."

"Perhaps Mrs. Poler knew that she could not nurse them; not every one can nurse as you do, Granny," said the child. "What care you took of Joe when he had that bad fall down an area, and broke his poor leg, the very first month that he went into service in London."

"Ah! Poor fellow, he slipped on the steps one cold, frosty day; and his master sent him all the way here to be nursed, for he knew that no one would look after him like his old Granny. Didn't I sit up three nights with my boy when the pain made the fever run high; and didn't I tear up my own handkerchiefs into bandages for his leg, and half starve myself to scrape up money to pay the doctor?"

"Joe will never forget all you did," said Annie.

"I hope that he'll give a proof now that he does not," began Janet, when she caught a sight through the window of some one coming up to the door. "Here's the postman at last!" she exclaimed, starting up from her seat in such a hurry that she knocked over her basket, and sent a good many of her nuts flying in every direction over her cottage floor.

Annie flew to the door, the postman had no need to knock. "Here's the letter—the letter from Joe!" cried the little girl, joyfully, as she returned with the note. "I was sure, quite sure, that he would write soon!"

"I hope that he has done something more than merely write," said Janet, looking very anxious, with mingled hope and fear in her face as she broke open her grandson's letter. When she had taken out the written sheet, instead of reading it, she shook it to see if any money-order would drop out, then looked into the empty envelope, and muttered in a tone of great disappointment, "I made sure of one pound at least! Did I not write to him that the rent must be paid to-morrow, or that we should both be turned out of doors."

"Won't you read Joe's letter, dear Granny?" asked Annie; she was very anxious to hear it.

"You read it to me, child, my eyes are getting dim with old age," said the old woman, giving her the note.

Annie glanced up at her Granny, and saw that the dimness came from something besides age, for the eyes of Janet were brimful of tears which were ready to flow over.

Annie read out as follows:—

"Dear Granny, I am very sorry indeed that the pig is dead, and you in such trouble, but I hope that things will be brighter soon. I have hardly a minute for writing, but will soon let you hear again. I wish you and Annie a happy New Year, and send lots of love to you both; from your loving grandson, Joseph."

"Is that all?" asked Janet almost fiercely.

"I have not missed a word," replied Annie. She spoke sadly for she was as much disappointed as her Granny could be, though she was not, like her, angry besides.

"Then you may just fling that letter into the fire after the rotten nuts!" exclaimed Janet, trembling with vexation. "After all I wrote to him about the potatoes and the rent, to think of his not sending so much as a sixpence to his Granny, who nursed him when sick, and fed him and cared for him—ungrateful, selfish fellow that he is!"

"Oh! Granny," interrupted the poor little sister, who could not bear to hear such hard words spoken of Joe.

"He 'is' selfish," repeated old Janet. "Did he not buy himself a silver watch last summer, I guess that cost him a pretty bit of money, enough to clear off my debt for rent—and more. Think of his buying himself a watch, and leaving his Granny and his sister to be turned out of doors for want of a couple of pounds! 'Lots of love' he sends us, does he! I'd not give a crooked pin for such love! I like proofs, real proofs of love. I've given him many many such, though now he forgets them all!" Poor Janet put her thin hands before her face to hide the big drops that were now running fast down her wrinkled cheeks.

"Granny, do let us 'trust' Joe," said Annie softly. "Perhaps he could not send any money, he may have spent all before he heard of your trouble."

"He might have written so then," said Janet, drying her eyes. "No, no, in the fine big house in London he forgets all about the poor little cottage which was his home for many a day. While he feasts like a lord with meat twice a day, what does it matter to him if we have not so much as a bit of bacon even on Sundays? He might have thought of 'you,' Annie, my poor child, if my trouble was nothing to him."

"I am 'sure' that Joe loves me," said Annie firmly, her cheeks flushing red at the thought that any one should doubt it.

For Annie remembered the old times before Joe had first gone into service. He had been the kindest of brothers to his little sister, who was many years younger than he. Many a ride had Annie had on Joe's knee, or upon his shoulder. Many a sugar-plum or cake the generous boy had given to his sister instead of eating it himself. What pains Joe had taken to make for Annie a beautiful boat as a parting present! Annie had thought it then the prettiest boat in the world, and after six years she thought so still. There was the boat now on its shelf, always kept nicely dusted by Annie, and almost as good as new, reminding her every day of Joe.

Oh! Young brothers, if you only knew how much power you have by words and deeds of kindness to make your little sisters happy, and win their lifelong love, you would not so often give pain to them when you might so easily give pleasure! Annie had never had from Joe one rough word, far less one thoughtless blow. He would far rather have hurt himself than have hurt his little sister. Annie looked up now at the boat, her brother's keepsake, and could not and would not doubt his love. She was quite able to trust him, and her greatest pain was to see that her grandmother did not.

Perhaps my reader is inclined to think that Janet was a cross, ill-tempered old woman, proud of what she had done for others, and expecting others to do a great deal for her in return. And yet Janet was an honest and kind-hearted woman, one who loved her Bible, and never passed a Sunday without going to church. Janet feared God, and tried to obey His commandments, but she had not yet learned to trust His love. Janet let the wicked thought lurk in her heart that if the Lord really cared for her, He would not leave her to be so poor. And if old Janet thus dared to doubt the love of her heavenly Father, who can wonder if she doubted the love of earthly friends! This want of trust made every trial that came to her doubly heavy to Janet; this made her temper cross, and filled her with bitter thoughts.

There are many who sin like Janet, without half the excuse which she had for her discontented spirit. Janet had had very great trials to bear. Once she had been well-off; she had lived with her good husband in a pretty thatched cottage, and had been as happy and contented a woman as any in the village. But in one year, poor Janet had lost both her husband and her married daughter,—and with an almost broken heart had received her two grandchildren into her home. Even that home was not to be left to her long.

One day as the widow was returning from a distant field in which she had been helping to reap, she saw thick volumes of smoke rising from the direction of her cottage above the trees which hid it from view. With a feeling of fear she rushed forwards, and terrible was the sight which was soon before her eyes. Her pretty cottage was in flames, the thatch was burning fiercely, and though an engine had come from the town, and firemen and neighbours were doing their best to put out the fire, they could not succeed, and what was once a comfortable home was soon but a heap of ashes. Janet Jones was then, not only a widow, but a very poor widow, and hard work she had had to bring up the two orphan children left to her charge. These were no small troubles, and others, in Janet's place, might have been sorely tempted to murmur.

"I wish that 'I' could give poor Granny some proof of love," thought little Annie. "But I have nothing to give, not one penny! To-morrow is New Year's day, and it will be such a sad day to her. Is there nothing that I could do to please her?"

Now when we think hard to discover some way of pleasing a friend, we are pretty sure to find one.

"I remember," said Annie to herself, "that there was a hymn which took Granny's fancy in a book which Mrs. Brown lent us to read last summer. Granny wished that I could write well enough to copy it out fair on the flyleaf of her large Bible. I can write now much better than I could then. I have no New Year's present to give, but I might copy out that hymn; I am sure that Mrs. Brown would lend me the book again if I asked her. But this is such a little, such a 'very' little thing to do for my Granny. Ah! I would do much more if I earned wages like Joe!"

Copying out a hymn was a very little thing, but it was a "proof of love," and a proof that cost Annie some self-denial. She did not like writing at all, and she knew that it would take her hours to copy out six verses quite neatly, taking care not to make one blot. She resolved however to do so, and ran out again into the snow, and went over to Mrs. Brown's to ask her to lend her the book.

Mrs. Brown had a large cheerful home, and four merry little children full of play.

"Oh! Annie, we're so glad you've come!" cried the eldest, clapping her hands as Annie entered.

"I hope you'll stop all day with us," said kind Mrs. Brown, who knew that the girl had a very dull home.

"Oh! Yes,—stop, stop!" cried Charlie Brown. "We're to have roast beef and roley-poley, 'cause it's the last day in the year."

"And grandfather's coming, and he tells us such famous stories,—we'll have games, and all sorts of fun!" exclaimed little Bess.

Annie longed to stop to share the food and the fun. She hesitated, but only for a moment. She had real love for her Granny, and gave a proof of it at once.

"No, thank you so much," she said, "but I cannot leave poor Granny to spend the last day of the year by herself."

Annie soon returned to her cottage with the book containing the hymn. She got down the little bottle of ink, and a pen, and began her copying work, while old Janet sat gloomy and sad by the fire, never speaking a word except to abuse ungrateful Joe.

It was well that Annie had to give much attention to what she was doing, so that she scarcely heard what her Granny was muttering to herself. The verses are so beautiful that they took up Annie's thoughts as she wrote. They are so suitable for the New Year that I will copy them out for my readers, as Annie did for her Granny. I wish that each would learn by heart the loving questions which the Saviour, in this hymn, asks alike of the old and the young:

"I gave My life for thee, My precious blood I shed, That thou mightest ransomed be, And quickened from the dead. I give My life for thee, WHAT HAST THOU GIVEN FOR ME?

"I spent long years for thee, In weariness and woe, That one eternity Of joy thou mightest know. I spent long years for thee, Hast thou spent ONE for Me?

"My Father's house of light, My rainbow-circled throne, I left for earthly night, For wand'rings sad and lone. I left it all for thee, Hast thou left AUGHT for Me?

"I suffered much for thee, More than thy tongue can tell, Of bitterest agony, To rescue thee from Hell. I suffered much for thee, WHAT DOST THOU BEAR FOR ME?

"And I have brought to thee, Down from My home above, Salvation full and free, My pardon, and My love. Great gifts I brought to thee, WHAT HAST THOU BROUGHT TO ME?

"Oh! let thy life be given, Thy years for Me be spent World fetters all be riven, And joy with suffering blent, I gave MYSELF for thee, Give thou THYSELF to Me?"