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diff --git a/34805-h/34805-h.htm b/34805-h/34805-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7446866 --- /dev/null +++ b/34805-h/34805-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5835 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Betty's Battles an Everyday Story, by S. L. M.. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + margin: 3em auto 3em auto; + height: 0px; + border-width: 1px 0 0 0; + border-style: solid; + border-color: #dcdcdc; + width: 500px; + clear: both; +} + + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +table.toc { + margin: auto; + width: 50%; +} + +td.c1 { + text-align: right; + vertical-align: top; + padding-right: 1em; +} + +td.c2 { + text-align: left; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 2em; + text-indent: -2em; + padding-right: 1em; + vertical-align: top; +} + +td.c3 { + text-align: right; + padding-left: 1em; + vertical-align: bottom; +} + +td { padding: 0em 1em; } +th { padding: 0em 1em; } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: #999; +} /* page numbers */ + + + + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .gap { margin-top: 1em; } + +/* Images */ + .figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + + .bord img { + padding: 1px; + border: 1px solid black; +} + +p.caption { + margin-top: 0; + font-size: 70%; + text-align: left; +} + + +/* Transcriber Notes */ + +ul.corrections { + list-style-type: circle; +} + +ins { + text-decoration:none; + border-bottom: thin dotted gray; + +} +.tnote { + border: dashed 1px; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; +} + + + + +/* Poetry */ + .poem { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-align: left; +} + + .poem br { display: none; } + + .poem .stanza { margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; } + + .poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + .poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + .poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + .signature { + text-align: right; + margin-right: 40%; +} + +li.pad { padding-top: 2.0%; } + + </style> + </head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Betty's Battles, by S. L. M. + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Betty's Battles + an Everyday Story + +Author: S. L. M. + +Release Date: January 1, 2011 [EBook #34805] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BETTY'S BATTLES *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Julia Neufeld, Lindy Walsh and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 356px;"> +<img src="images/002.png" width="356" height="596" alt=""How can I ever go!" cries Betty + +[See page 1 + +" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"How can I ever go!" cries Betty<br /> + +[See page 1 + +</span> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1><span class="smcap">Betty's Battles</span></h1> + +<h2><i>AN EVERYDAY STORY</i></h2> +<p> </p> +<h2><span class="smcap">By S. L. M.</span></h2> +<p> </p> +<div class='center'> +<i>Author of "Jabez the Unlucky"</i> +<p> </p> +<span class="smcap">Preface by Mrs. Bramwell Booth</span> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +</div> +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 103px;"> +<img src="images/i003.png" width="103" height="150" alt="girl holding book" title="" /> + +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + +<div class='center'><i>Illustrated by Gertrude M. Bradley</i></div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p>THE SALVATIONIST PUBLISHING AND SUPPLIES, LTD.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">London:</span> 117-121 Judd Street, King's Cross, W.C. 1<br /> +<span class="smcap">Glasgow</span>: 38 Bath Street<br /> +<span class="smcap">Melbourne</span>: 69 Bourke Street<br /> +<span class="smcap">New York</span>: 120 West Fourteenth Street<br /> +<span class="smcap">Toronto</span>: Albert Street<br /> +<span class="smcap">Cape Town</span>: Loop Street<br /> +<span class="smcap">Wellington</span>: Cuba Street<br /> +<span class="smcap">Simla</span>: The Mall<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<div class='center'> +MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN<br /> +BY THE CAMPFIELD PRESS, ST. ALBANS<br /> +<br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> + + +<p>I have derived real pleasure from the +reading of "Betty's Battles," because I +am sure if we can only get it into the +hands of other "Bettys," that they will be +inspired and helped to take up arms in +their own cause, and fight, as Betty did, +for the love and peace and orderliness of +their own dear homes.</p> + +<p>I think a fact is revealed in this story +which is not actually transcribed in black +and white. It is that the Grandmother—through +staying with whom Betty had +been so much blessed and helped—bore +the same surname as Betty's father. For +if she had brought up Betty's mother, I +am quite sure there never could have been +so much difficulty in the home as was the +case when Betty returned from her holiday!</p> + +<p>This little book will, I believe, help our +Young People to realise their responsibility +towards their own homes and their +fathers and mothers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nothing is more grievous at the present +time in many countries where civilisation +is most advanced, than the decay of all +that which is precious and beautiful in +home life. There are many causes which +have contributed to this, to which I cannot +allude here; but there is one remedy +which by the blessing of God cannot fail. +It is that our young women should be +enlightened and trained to acknowledge and +to carry their responsibilities for that work +which God has committed to women.</p> + +<p>Undoubtedly, it is God's arrangement +that women should beautify and adorn the +home. A home is an absolute necessity to +her; and only by the retirement and protection +of a good home, can women ever +be fitted to train and mould the nation's +youth. As a wise, far-seeing writer has +said: "It is not too much to say that the +prosperity or adversity of a nation rests in +the hands of its women. They are the +mothers of the men; they make and mould +the characters of their sons, and the centre +of their influence should be, as Nature +intended it to be, the home. Home is the +pivot round which the wheel of a country's +highest statesmanship should revolve; the +preservation of home, its interests, its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span> +duties and principles, should be the aim +of every good citizen.... A happy home +is the best and surest safeguard against all +evil; and where home is not happy, there +the Devil may freely enter and find his +hands full. With women, and women +only, this happiness in the home must +find its foundation."</p> + +<p>I believe in the successful mission of this +little book, and wish it good speed.<br /></p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/i007.png" width="350" height="93" alt="signature" title="" /> + +</div> + + +<div class="signature">Florence E. Booth</div> +<p><br /> +<br /> +<i>November 1907</i><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + +<table class="toc" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td class="c1">CHAP.</td><td> </td><td class="c3">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">I.</td><td class="c2">"GOOD-BYE, GRANNIE"</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">II.</td><td class="c2">HOME AGAIN</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">III.</td><td class="c2">THE BATTLES BEGIN</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">IV.</td><td class="c2">BETTY'S BIRTHDAY</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">V.</td><td class="c2">REAL TROUBLE</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">VI.</td><td class="c2">FOR FATHER'S SAKE</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">VII.</td><td class="c2">DAY BY DAY</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">VIII.</td><td class="c2">THE CAPTAIN</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">IX.</td><td class="c2">A PLACE FOR EVERY ONE</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">X.</td><td class="c2">A QUARREL</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">XI.</td><td class="c2">FATHER AT HOME</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">XII.</td><td class="c2">LUCY</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">XIII.</td><td class="c2">COMRADES</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">XIV.</td><td class="c2">BETTY'S BIRTHDAY ONCE MORE</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BETTY'S BATTLES</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>"GOOD-BYE, GRANNIE"</h3> + + +<p>"Oh, Grannie, how sweet it all is here! +How can I ever go!" cries Betty.</p> + +<p>Betty's bag stands by the gate. Betty +herself roams restlessly about the little +garden, while Betty's Grannie shades her +gentle old eyes from the morning sunshine, +and peers down the road.</p> + +<p>Betty's bag is stout and bulgy; stuffed +full of Grannie's home-made goodies, including +a big plum-cake, and pots of +delicious jam.</p> + +<p>Betty herself is not stout at all; indeed, +she is rather thin. She came to Grannie's +country home, five weeks ago, to grow +strong again after a bad illness; but though +the moorland breezes have brought colour +back to her cheeks, and strength to her +long limbs, they have given no plumpness +to either.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> + +<p>Betty's Grannie—well, she <i>is</i> Grannie, a +true Army Grannie, with a heart large +enough to take in everybody's troubles, and +a spirit wise enough to find a cure for most +of them.</p> + +<p>"The carrier's cart is a little later than +usual," remarks Grannie, still peering down +the road; "but don't worry, you've plenty +of time to do the ten miles to the station; +and Bob the carrier will see you safe into +the express. Of course, your father will +meet you when the train arrives, so you've +nothing to trouble about, dear."</p> + +<p>"Nothing to trouble about!" Betty +turns round quickly. "Oh, Grannie, it's +leaving <i>you</i> that troubles me so dreadfully—how +can I go—how <i>can</i> I, when I'm only +just beginning to understand?"</p> + +<p>During these five weeks Betty has grown +to love her dear good Grannie as she never +loved anyone before, for, week by week, +day by day, Grannie has been bringing her +nearer and nearer to God.</p> + +<p>"Last night, dear child, you gave your +heart into the Lord's keeping," says +Grannie softly, laying a loving hand on +the girl's shoulder, "and He is with those +who trust Him always, wherever they may +go."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, I know, Grannie; and while I'm +with you it seems so easy to do right—and +though you are so wise and good, you +never get cross with me when I make +mistakes, or answer too sharply—but, Oh, +it is so different—so very different at home! +Whatever shall I do without you?"</p> + +<p>And Betty flings her arms round the old +woman's neck, and clings to her as though +she would never let her go.</p> + +<p>"Your home is God's gift to you, Betty," +says Grannie, gravely.</p> + +<p>"My home? Grannie, it's <i>horrid</i> at +home sometimes! The rooms are so stuffy, +and dark, and untidy, and I hate untidy +rooms! The children are always quarrelling, +and they shout and stamp until my +head aches and aches, and mother never +seems to care. If only it were pretty and +clean and fresh like this place—if only +mother were like you!"</p> + +<p>But Grannie's face grows graver still.</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, Betty! Indeed, you must +not allow yourself to run on in this way. +Remember, you have given yourself to +God now, and you must do the work He +puts into your hands bravely and well.</p> + +<p>"Of course, it is easier to be cheerful +and good when there is nothing to try us.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +Of course, it is easier to carry a light +burden than a heavy one. Your father is +poor, and there are many little ones. Your +mother has struggled through long years of +weary work and anxiety. It is your part +to be their help and comfort, Betty."</p> + +<p>"I will try, indeed, I will; and I'll try +to remember all you've told me, all the dear +beautiful talks we've had together, and—and +last night, Gran."</p> + +<p>"That's my own darling!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm really going to be good now, +and patient, and unselfish, and I'll help +mother, and teach the children, and make +our home as sweet as your home is. But, +Oh, dear Grannie, if you could only see our +home—it makes me so cross, for nobody +even tries to help, and they are all so careless, +and snap one up so."</p> + +<p>Betty stops short, there is a queer little +twinkle in Grannie's eye that is almost like +a question.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know. <i>I</i> am snappy sometimes; +but they are all so unjust. When I +try to put things straight a bit, Bob is +sure to say I've lost some of his books; +and, Grannie, it isn't 'interfering' is it +to tell people of a thing when you know +it's wrong?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It may be 'interfering' even to put +things straight, dear, unless you are very +careful to let love do the seeing, and +speaking, and doing.</p> + +<p>"Courage, Betty! You were very weak +and listless when you came five weeks ago; +and your heart was heavy and sad. Now +you are my own strong Betty again. And +the Lord has come to dwell in your heart +and take its sadness away.</p> + +<p>"Let Him reign in your heart, Betty; +give Him the whole of it. In His strength +you will learn to check the 'snappy' words +when they rise to your lips; to conquer the +discontented thoughts and careless habits. +You will learn to be happy and bright, and +to make all those around you happy too."</p> + +<p>But Betty thinks, "Clearly Grannie +doesn't know how horrid things are at +home sometimes; if mother would only let +me manage altogether it wouldn't be half +so difficult."</p> + +<p>"The carrier's cart, my child!"</p> + +<p>Betty lifts her head from Grannie's +shoulder and hastily wipes her eyes.</p> + +<p>The cart stops; the bulgy bag, the paper +parcel, and big bunch of sweet-smelling, +old-fashioned flowers are lifted in. Betty +turns to Grannie for the final kiss.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Remember, dear, the little crosses of +daily life, borne bravely and cheerfully for +Jesus' sake, will make you a true Soldier, +and win a crown of glory by and by," +whispers Grannie, as she presses her grandchild +in her kind arms.</p> + +<p>Betty nods, and then turns her head away +very quickly; she dare not trust herself to +speak.</p> + +<p>The cart moves away. Yes, now, indeed, +her holiday is over!</p> + +<p>The blue sky, the golden gorse, the fresh, +sweet air of the moors, they are still around +her, but they belong to her no more.</p> + +<p>Through a mist of tears she looks back +at the little cottage where she has been so +happy; Grannie still stands by the gate—round +that turn in the road beyond is the +village, and the little Salvation Army Hall, +where Grannie goes every Sunday.</p> + +<p>It was at the close of the Meeting last +night that she gave her heart to God. Then +afterwards, in her dear little bedroom, with +her head buried in Grannie's lap, she felt +so strong, so sure—and now?</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear; Oh, dear," she sobs, "it is +all so different at home!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>HOME AGAIN</h3> + + +<p>Betty dries her tears, and looks up.</p> + +<p>She is in the train now, speeding towards +the great, smoky city, where she has lived +nearly all her life.</p> + +<p>She watches the fields and woods flying +past, and her thoughts are sad.</p> + +<p>Already Grannie seems far away. The +little white cottage is hidden among those +great moors yonder. She can see them +still, although they are growing fainter +every minute, fading into the blue of the +sky.</p> + +<p>"Dear Grannie! how good she has been +to me—how happy I have been with her!"</p> + +<p>She pulls a little Bible out of her pocket. +Grannie put it into her hands as she gave +her the first kiss this morning.</p> + +<p>"I will read it every morning and evening," +she thinks, "just as Grannie does. +When I see the words I shall remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +the very sound of her voice and the look +in her dear eyes. That will help me so +much."</p> + +<p>The thought comforts her, and she looks +about more cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"Grannie has promised to write to me, +and I'm to write to her. How I shall love +her letters! I know just how she'll write—she +is so wise and strong, and yet so +loving and kind. But what sort of letters +shall I write to Grannie?</p> + +<p>"Why, of course, I must tell her all my +troubles, and how hard I am fighting—<i>so</i> +hard! Then she must know everything +about the wonderful victories I mean to +win. How pleased she will be! I shall +have plenty of battles to fight, for home is +horrid sometimes—it really is.</p> + +<p>"There's Bob; when Bob is in one of his +teasing fits it's almost impossible to keep +one's temper. But <i>I</i> mean to do it. Bob +shall have to own that he <i>can't</i> make me +cross.</p> + +<p>"Then I do believe Clara is the most +trying servant in the whole world. Well, +I'm going to teach her that a dirty face +and torn apron are a real disgrace, and I'll +show her how to keep the kitchen just as +Grannie keeps hers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do wish I could persuade mother to +keep the sitting-room tidier, and finish her +house-work in the morning, and do her +hair before dinner. If she'd only let me +manage everything, I believe I should get +on much better.</p> + +<p>"Jennie and Pollie must learn to sew, +and Harry to read, and Lucy really must +leave her perpetual poring over books and +take an interest in her home like other +girls. And father—dear old father!—he +shall have all his meals at the proper time, +instead of scrambling through them at the +last minute; and I'll keep his socks +mended, and his handkerchiefs ironed. Yes, +Grannie's quite right—there are heaps of +battles to fight every day. I'll fight them, +too; I'll manage everything; I'll be more +than conqueror! Oh, how surprised and +glad she will be!"</p> + +<p>And Betty sinks back in her seat with +quite a self-satisfied smile.</p> + +<p>And still the fields fly past; they are +flatter now; the woods have disappeared, +and every now and then the engine rushes +screaming through the station of a large +town.</p> + +<p>Betty eats her lunch of Grannie's apples +and home-made cake. She is sad no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +longer. The battle-field is before her; she +is eager for the fight.</p> + +<p>"I'm <i>glad</i> now that things are so tiresome +at home; there is so much more for +me to put right. What a change I'll make +in everything!"</p> + +<p>All her doubts have vanished; she is sure +of success. As for failure and defeat, that +is clearly impossible!</p> + +<p>It is late in the afternoon before long +lines of houses, stretching away in every +direction, begin to warn her that she is +nearing home.</p> + +<p>Be sure her head is out of the window +long before the train draws up at the well-known +platform, and her eyes are eagerly +straining to catch the earliest possible +glimpse of father's face. For Betty loves +her father dearly.</p> + +<p>There he is! The platform is crowded, +but she sees him directly. He sees her, +too, and, pushing his way through the +crowd, he opens the carriage door, and she +springs into his arms.</p> + +<p>"Aye, Betty, my girl, I'm glad to see +you back again!" he says; that is all. +But John Langdale is a man of few words, +and this is a great deal from him.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 346px;"> +<img src="images/i019a.png" width="345" height="595" alt=""How did you leave your Grannie?"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"How did you leave your Grannie?"</span> +</div> + +<p>He shoulders her bag, and makes his way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +through the pile of luggage, the bustling +porters, and anxious passengers, Betty +following as best she can.</p> + +<p>Her head feels giddy and bewildered after +the long train journey, and the noise, and +hurry, and smoky air, all is so different +from the quiet country scenes she left eight +hours ago.</p> + +<p>Her father does not speak again until +they are safely seated on the top of a homeward-bound +bus; and even then, before he +speaks a word, he turns to his daughter, +and looks searchingly in her face.</p> + +<p>There is a change in Betty's face that +tells of more than the mere return of health +and strength.</p> + +<p>"Aye, well, my girl!" he says softly.</p> + +<p>Betty smiles confidingly into his eyes, +and nestles closer to his side.</p> + +<p>He half smiles in return, and then turns +away with a sigh. For he thinks, "It is +the country air and her Grannie's care that +have made such a change in my Betty, and +now she will have neither."</p> + +<p>"Well, how did you leave your Grannie?" +he says aloud.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ever so well! And she sent lots +of love and messages—and other things—for +the children, you know. The other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +things are in the bag. Be careful you +don't smash the jam-pots! I'll tell you the +messages as I remember them. And the +love—Oh, father, Grannie showed me what +real love is; and, father, I——" Betty +comes to a full stop.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, my girl, what is it?" asks +her father, turning his eyes inquiringly to +her face.</p> + +<p>"Grannie has taught me so many +things," she goes on, in a low voice, "and +somehow, without saying much, she made +me understand how selfish I have been; +how through all these years I have been +trying to do without God. And—and she +took me to The Army Meetings, and last +night I—I asked God to forgive me and +make me as good as Grannie."</p> + +<p>Betty's voice has sunk to the merest +whisper, but father hears it above all the +roar of the traffic.</p> + +<p>"That's right, my girl. God bless you, +Betty!" he says, heartily, and now at last +a bright smile lights up his careworn face.</p> + +<p>"Here we are!" says father, presently, +and he signals to the driver. The bus +pulls up at the entrance to a small street, +father shoulders the bag, and Betty, scrambling +down after him, soon finds herself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +standing on the shabby little front doorstep +of her home.</p> + +<p>A narrow, dull street it is; closely packed +with dull houses, all built in one pattern, +all alike grey with smoke, all looking as +though no breath of spring air, or gleam +of spring sunshine, could ever find their +way through the close-shut windows.</p> + +<p>All too swiftly Betty's thoughts travel +back to the white cottage in the hills, to +the sunny garden, the fresh moorland +breezes.</p> + +<p>The contrast is too much for her; a big +lump seems to rise in her throat. Her eyes +fill with tears; her good resolutions fade +away.</p> + +<p>She doesn't want to be at home—Oh, +that she were with Grannie now!</p> + +<p>Father has found his key at last, and +fits it into the lock. At the same moment +there is a rush of noisy feet within, the +loud clamour of excited voices. Directly +the door is flung open Betty is surrounded +by a boisterous crowd of younger brothers +and sisters—they seize her, they dance +round her, shouting out their rough +welcome.</p> + +<p>"We knew it was you! Mother, here's +our Betty! Come along, Betty." And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +they almost drag her down the passage +into the family sitting-room.</p> + +<p>Tea is set on the round table. Betty's +quick eye notices that the tray is slopped +with milk, and the stained cloth askew. +"How different from Grannie's tea-table," +she thinks bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Where's mother?" she asks, after kissing +her brothers and sisters all round.</p> + +<p>"She was rather late to-day, and so she's +only just gone upstairs to tidy herself," +explains Lucy. Lucy is next in age to +Betty. "You mustn't go up, she'll be +down in a minute."</p> + +<p>"This bag feels pretty heavy," exclaims +Bob, the eldest boy, "anything good in it, +Betty?" and he begins fumbling at the +fastening.</p> + +<p>"My flowers—Oh, Bob, do be careful!" +cries Betty, rushing to the rescue of her +daffodils and wallflowers. How sweet and +fresh they looked this morning, how crushed +and faded now!</p> + +<p>"You careless boy; you've broken the +stalks off ever so many! Put the bag +down. Oh, dear, why isn't mother here! +Father's washing his hands, I suppose. +Lucy, do ask mother to make haste; here's +the kettle boiling away, and the tea not in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +the pot or anything." Betty is growing +more irritable every minute; but now mother +appears.</p> + +<p>"Well, Betty, here you are at last, +then."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Langdale is a large, fair-haired +woman. Her gown is only half-fastened, +and stray wisps of hair are hanging round +her face. This is nothing unusual, for +Betty's mother is scarcely ever neatly +dressed.</p> + +<p>Betty knows this well enough. It would +be well if she understood the look of love +in her mother's eyes as clearly as she sees +the untidiness of her mother's dress.</p> + +<p>"Well, Betty, I'm glad to have you +back again, that I am; there's so much to +be done in this house, and time slips away +so. Now, to-day, I really made up my +mind to have everything ready by the time +you came in, but what with one thing and +another—Pollie, take your fingers out of +the sugar-bowl, you naughty child—Jennie, +fetch the knives, they're in the scullery, I +forgot them; make haste now! Can't you +see your sister wants her tea?"</p> + +<p>She pushes a few loose tags of hair out +of her eyes, and begins making the tea, +talking all the time.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, did your Grannie send +any message to me? What sort of journey +did you have? How did those boots wear? +Now did you——?"</p> + +<p>"Betty's too tired to talk just yet, I +think," interposes her father, coming in +that moment. "She'll tell us everything +after tea."</p> + +<p>Indeed, Betty does feel dreadfully tired. +The noise and confusion bewilder her. +Every one seems to be talking at once. It +is all so different from the quiet orderliness +of Grannie's home.</p> + +<p>The knives are brought at last, the tea +made, and for awhile the younger children +are too busy with their bread and butter +even for talk.</p> + +<p>Tea over, however, the tumult begins +afresh. The tea-things are just pushed to +one side of the table, and then mother +begins to unpack the bag.</p> + +<p>Shrieks of delight greet the various +packages, the table is soon strewn with +Grannie's good things. The paper is torn +from the cake; Bob seizes on a great pot +of blackberry jam, bumps against a chair +and drops the pot with a crash to the floor. +The sticky mess, mixed with broken glass, +spreads slowly over the carpet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There you go, you tiresome boy!" cries +mother fretfully. "Always smashing something, +always spoiling things. If you eat +a bit of it you'll swallow broken glass, and +serve you right. Lucy, ask Clara for a +duster and pail of water to mop up the +mess. Who told you to touch that cake, +Pollie? Jennie, how dare you meddle with +the honey—you'll overset that next! I +don't believe there ever were such rude, +tiresome, disobedient children! I'm sure I +don't know what to do with you all. +Harry, Jennie, Pollie, I <i>won't</i> have that +cake eaten to-night! You shall all just +pack off to bed."</p> + +<p>The younger children sober down a little +at this threat, and presently, between coaxings, +and slappings, and the promise of +unlimited cake to-morrow, they go off +noisily to bed.</p> + +<p>How thankful Betty is when she manages +at last to escape to her own little room, +and lays her weary head on her pillow!</p> + +<p>She is utterly tired out. Too tired to +remember any of her good resolutions; too +tired even to think.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE BATTLES BEGIN</h3> + + +<p>The morning is bright and clear, and +just one glint of sunshine has actually +found its way into the room. Betty sits +up in bed. She has slept soundly all +night, and feels thoroughly refreshed.</p> + +<p>Grannie's daffodils and wallflowers, carefully +placed in a large glass on the little +toilet-table, have lifted their drooping heads, +and look almost as bright as they did +yesterday morning in their far-away country +home.</p> + +<p>"The battle is to begin to-day," Betty +thinks, as she springs lightly out of bed. +"Yes, to-day I am to begin to change +everything in this untidy, stuffy old house—to-day +I must commence the fight that is +not to end until I have made it a really +bright, cosy home.</p> + +<p>"Half-past six! I shouldn't wonder if +Clara hasn't got up yet; she's such a lazy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +girl in the mornings. Never mind, I'll +soon shame her out of that. One of the +very first things I have to do is to make +every one in this house understand that +they <i>must</i> get up early in the morning."</p> + +<p>Betty's mind is so full of this grand idea +that she quite forgets to ask the Lord for +His blessing and guidance during the day.</p> + +<p>Lucy is sleeping peacefully on her pillow +by the side of <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original omits 'the bed'">the bed</ins> that Betty has just left. This +will never do.</p> + +<p>"Come, Lucy, wake up!" and she shakes +her by the arm.</p> + +<p>Lucy opens her blue eyes, and blinks at +her sleepily. "It isn't time to get up yet; +it can't be," she murmurs.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is. You've all got into fearfully +lazy habits in this house. While I +was with Grannie I always got up at half-past +six."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" sighs Lucy, ruefully.</p> + +<p>"Now, make haste. Those children are +going to be <i>properly</i> washed and combed +before they go to school this morning; it's +a disgrace to see them sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose it is," admits Lucy. +"But aren't you dreadfully tired, Betty, +after yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"If I am, I'm not going to let that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +stand in the way of doing my duty," +answers Betty loftily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" sighs Lucy, feeling quite +guilty because she would so much rather +stay in bed one extra half-hour.</p> + +<p>But the stern resolution in Betty's face +shows no signs of relenting, and she begins +to dress.</p> + +<p>Betty splashes vigorously in the cold +water, combs her hair back until not a +single hair is out of place, and runs +downstairs.</p> + +<p>Clara, the little maid-of-all-work, is sleepily +laying the kitchen fire. Her dirty apron +has a great "jag" all across the front, and +her tumbled cap is set all askew on her +mass of dusty-looking hair.</p> + +<p>"What, the fire not alight yet? Really, +Clara, this is too bad. How can you +expect to get through your day's work well +when you begin it so badly! Now just +get that kettle to boil as soon as possible, +and I'll prepare the porridge and haddock.</p> + +<p>"And, Clara, your face is as smutty as +anything. Why don't you wash it properly? +And your hair's just dreadful."</p> + +<p>Clara tosses her head indignantly, and +mutters something about "never having +time for anything in this house."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There's plenty of time for everything; +it's all because you manage so badly," says +Betty severely. "Where's the porridge-pot? +Not cleaned; how shameful! And +here's the frying-pan with all the fat in it. +How can you expect to be ready in time +at this rate?"</p> + +<p>Clara mutters that "Everything would be +right enough if some folks would let her +alone."</p> + +<p>Betty takes no notice of this just now, +for Lucy appearing at this moment, she +orders her off upstairs to wash and dress +the younger children.</p> + +<p>By dint of a great deal of most energetic +bustling on Betty's part, and sulky help +from Clara, the breakfast is actually ready +by eight o'clock, and the boys and younger +girls sent off to school in good time. Betty +feels greatly elated. "What a difference +already!" she thinks.</p> + +<p>And father, coming in for breakfast, she +hurries down to the kitchen for his fish +and tea.</p> + +<p>Returning with the tray, she meets her +mother coming downstairs.</p> + +<p>"What, Betty, up already? I made +sure you would like to lie in bed a bit +and hurried down early on purpose."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Hurried</i> down, mother! Why, I've +been up since half-past six, and just sent +the children off to school."</p> + +<p>"Dear me. Is it really so late? I made +sure the clock struck eight only a few +minutes ago."</p> + +<p>"Half an hour, at least, mother," answers +Betty, sharply.</p> + +<p>"You're going by the kitchen clock—that's +always wrong, you know."</p> + +<p>"Everything <i>is</i> in this house, it seems to +me," snaps Betty, and she carries father's +breakfast into the sitting-room. Mother +follows her.</p> + +<p>"Where's your father? Why, you don't +mean to say you've finished breakfast? +Good gracious me, Betty, the idea of +having the window open! What a shocking +draught, enough to blow one away, +and I've had the face-ache all this week. +Shut it down directly!"</p> + +<p>"It's a lovely fresh morning for this +place, and air's better than anything. +Grannie always has <i>her</i> windows open," +answers Betty in quite a hard voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I daresay; the country's different, +and your Grannie is one of the strongest +people I ever saw." And Mrs. Langdale +glances nervously at the window.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But, mother, the room was horribly +stuffy, and Grannie says——"</p> + +<p>"How dare you set your Grannie up +against me in this way? If that's all you +learned by being with her you'd far better +have stayed at home."</p> + +<p>"But <i>any</i> doctor would tell you——"</p> + +<p>"Look here, Betty, unless you close that +window at once I won't stay in the room!" +cries Mrs. Langdale, red with anger.</p> + +<p>Betty's face flushes also, and she bangs +the window down in a fury.</p> + +<p>"There! And anybody who knows +anything will tell you that's thoroughly +wrong!" she cries.</p> + +<p>Perhaps so, Betty. But is there nothing +wrong about your method of trying to put +the mistake right?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Betty sits down hopelessly.</p> + +<p>She has been home just a week now, and +things have gone from bad to worse.</p> + +<p>She has tried hard—in her own fashion, +of course—she has been up early every +morning, and bustled about all day. Yet +all her grand ideas have resulted in nothing. +It seems to her, as she sits there on the +shabby little sofa, surrounded with piles of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +unmended stockings, that the members of +her family are determined to fight against +any kind of improvement.</p> + +<p>"They won't have the windows wide +open; they won't get up early, or try to be +tidy," she thinks, and her heart grows sore +and bitter as she remembers the fruitless +struggles of the past two or three days.</p> + +<p>"What <i>is</i> the use of trying when no one +seems to care whether things are properly +done or not?"</p> + +<p>She glances round the room. The carpet +is worn and frayed; the book-shelves dusty, +the curtains faded and torn. Her eyes rest +on the piles of unmended stockings. They +have been there more than a week already.</p> + +<p>"How horrid it all is—how perfectly +horrid! Why can't mother see that the +whole house is a regular disgrace, and the +children too—with their dirty hands and +rough hair, and rude, noisy ways? But +they won't obey me, though I scold them +ever so—and no wonder, with mother always +ready to take their part, and tell me not to +be hard on them! Of course, they go away +and forget everything directly. If mother +would only leave them to me, I'd <i>make</i> +them mind!</p> + +<p>"Eleven o'clock striking, and mother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +hasn't been down to the kitchen to arrange +about the dinner yet! There'll be nothing +ready for the children again when they +come in from school; and Clara will just +muddle through her work as usual. Oh, +dear, how sick I am of the whole thing!</p> + +<p>"If I could only live with Grannie—or +even go out all day, and earn my living +like other girls. I'm quick at figures. If +I could be a clerk in the City, or something; +at least, I should be away from this +muddle most of the day. I should be +independent, too, and able to buy things +for the house when I see they're wanted—and +that would help father. Nobody really +understands me here, except father.</p> + +<p>"Bob was cruel to speak to me as he +did this morning; and what I said was +perfectly true—his hands <i>did</i> look as though +he hadn't washed them for a week. It was +my duty to tell him that, and he had no +right to fly in a rage, and say I was +nagging. Nagging, indeed! Just because +I told him that it was disgraceful and disgusting +for a big boy to go about with +dirty hands!</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 359px;"> +<img src="images/i035.png" width="359" height="600" alt=""They make a good heap, don't they?"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"They make a good heap, don't they?"</span> +</div> + +<p>"A quarter past, and mother still over +the newspaper—and she told me she wouldn't +be ten minutes! It's too bad. I know just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +what will happen. There'll be nothing +ready, and Clara will be sent out for some +tinned salmon or something at the last +minute. No, I won't have it!"</p> + +<p>And Betty jumps up, all aglow with +anger, and running down the passage, +flings open the little front parlour door.</p> + +<p>"Mother!"—very sharply—"don't you +know how late it is?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Langdale looks up rather vacantly. +"Late? how can you say so? I'm sure +I haven't been here over a quarter of an +hour."</p> + +<p>"You've been here a whole hour, and +if you don't make the pudding at once +the children will have to do without +altogether!"</p> + +<p>"How you do hurry and flurry one, +Betty. Well, I'll see to it."</p> + +<p>Betty goes back to the sitting-room.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must begin at something," +she sighs wearily—"not that it makes much +difference."</p> + +<p>Again her eyes fall on the stockings. +Hours of hard work would not get rid of +that hopeless pile.</p> + +<p>On the first evening after her return +home, whilst as yet all her good resolutions +were hot in her, she had mended and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +put away all father's socks; but since then +there has seemed no time for anything.</p> + +<p>"I must mend all those stockings to-morrow," +mother has said each night; but +there the matter has ended.</p> + +<p>Shall she mend some now? or dust? or +wash the curtains? or——</p> + +<p>The door is flung open, and Clara comes +in with a fresh armful of socks and stockings, +barely dry from the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Missis says I'm to put these with the +rest," she giggles, in her irritating way. +"They make a good heap, don't they?"</p> + +<p>That is the last straw. Betty waits until +she is out of the room, and then gives way +altogether.</p> + +<p>"I can't bear it—I just can't!" she +whispers, tapping her foot on the floor. +"Grannie didn't know what it would be +like when she said all that about loving +one's home. I must get away from it—I +must!"</p> + +<p>The door opens again. "Oh, Betty, I +just want you to—why, child, what is the +matter? Are you going to be ill again?"</p> + +<p>"No, of course not!" Betty's heart +had grown softer as she thought of her +Grannie; but she hardens it directly she +hears her mother's voice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, only everything's so horrid at home +that I mean to ask father to let me learn +typing."</p> + +<p>"Betty, how can you be so ungrateful! +Just because things are a bit behindhand—and +that through your being away so +long! There, I didn't think it of you!" +And Mrs. Langdale goes angrily out of +the room.</p> + +<p>Betty had certainly not thought of it in +this light. Indeed, she has been thinking +of little lately, save how to get things done +in her own way.</p> + +<p>"What could Grannie mean by talking +as though I could become a real power for +good in my home?" she thinks bitterly. +"I've tried, and tried, and things only get +worse and worse; and I've made Bob +angry, and the children cross, and vexed +mother besides. Grannie must have been +wrong after all!"</p> + +<p>Was Grannie wrong? Or is it just +possible there is still something wrong +with Betty herself?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>BETTY'S BIRTHDAY</h3> + + +<p>"To-day is my birthday."</p> + +<p>That is Betty's first thought when she +awakes next morning, and the remembrance +soothes and pleases her.</p> + +<p>"Surely, Bob will not be cross with me +to-day. Surely, father will smile when he +kisses me, and mother will make a real effort +to finish her work earlier. But Grannie's +letter will be best of all—a long letter it is +certain to be, and, perhaps, a box of sweet +country flowers besides—those I brought +from her little garden are all dead now."</p> + +<p>Betty's heart feels lighter than it has for +some days past, and she runs downstairs +quite briskly.</p> + +<p>How eagerly she listens for the postman's +knock as she helps Clara prepare the breakfast! +"Ah, he's in the street now—I can +hear his 'rat-tats'—they're coming nearer. +Now he's next door——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + +<p>Alas, for poor Betty! The next knock +is at the house on the other side.</p> + +<p>She darts upstairs. No, there is no letter +on the door-mat; there is no letter coming +to her at all! Grannie has forgotten the +day. Betty could cry with disappointment +and vexation.</p> + +<p>But this is only the beginning.</p> + +<p>Jennie, Pollie, and Harry never remember +any birthdays save their own—she had +expected nothing from them. But Lucy +and Bob, it is hard indeed that <i>they</i> should +take no notice of this all-important day +which makes her just fifteen years old.</p> + +<p>Worse still, Bob is in a thoroughly bad +humour; and Lucy, having fallen asleep +after Betty awakened her this morning, is +ashamed of herself, and eats her breakfast +in silence.</p> + +<p>Not a word does Betty say to remind +them. She is longing intensely for a birthday +greeting, but nothing would make her +confess it.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have forgotten <i>their</i> birthdays," +she thinks bitterly. "I thought +they didn't really care much about me, +and this proves it."</p> + +<p>"You needn't look at me like that!" +cries Bob sharply. "I shan't wash my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +hands any oftener for you, Miss Particular, +in spite of all your naggings!" and he +snatches up his cap, and clatters out of the +room, banging the door after him.</p> + +<p>Soon after father comes in for his breakfast. +Betty looks up eagerly. Alas! he +also has forgotten.</p> + +<p>After this, mother's forgetfulness is not +surprising. She, too, takes her breakfast +almost in silence, and disappears into the +kitchen rather earlier than usual.</p> + +<p>Betty's heart is very sore as she sets +about her morning work. Her head aches, +and she feels tired all over. She has just +tidied the fireplace when mother enters.</p> + +<p>"The kitchen-range is smoking again, +Betty. I'm not going to have any more of +it, so I've sent Clara for the sweep."</p> + +<p>Betty is horrified. "Why, mother, there's +no dinner cooked—not even a bit of +pudding!"</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll have to make do with this +fire—it can't be helped."</p> + +<p>This is too much. Betty knows what +"having the sweep in" means.</p> + +<p>"Why couldn't you wait until to-morrow?" +she breaks out angrily. "It's +too bad—that it is! Isn't everything horrid +enough already without this?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + +<p>And she covers her face with her hands, +and bursts into a passion of tears.</p> + +<p>"Why, Betty—Betty, for goodness' sake, +don't—what can be the matter?"</p> + +<p>"It's my birthday!" cries Betty, "and +you've all forgotten—and I <i>did</i> think things +would be better to-day, and now they'll be +worse than ever!"</p> + +<p>"Your birthday, child? So it is, I +declare! Well, I can't think how I came +to forget it! If I'd thought now, I would +have tidied up a bit—but there's so much +to do in this house—just no end to it, and +yet there's no peace, and everything in a +muddle——"</p> + +<p>"It's all because no one <i>wants</i> things to +be better!" sobs Betty.</p> + +<p>"If you mean me, Betty, let me tell you +you've no right to speak like that to your +mother——"</p> + +<p>"I mean everybody! I just hate everything, +<i>everything</i>!" cries Betty, stamping +her foot, and sobbing so wildly that Mrs. +Langdale is alarmed.</p> + +<p>She forgets her own grievance directly, +in true motherly anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Come, come, Betty, don't give way +like this; you've been working too hard, +my dear; keeping too close to the house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +Clara and I will manage the sweep; just +put on your hat, and go for a walk."</p> + +<p>"I can't, my head aches dreadfully," +sobs Betty.</p> + +<p>"Then you must lie down a bit. Come, +come, you'll make yourself quite ill."</p> + +<p>Betty's head is aching so badly now that +she can scarcely think. Presently, lying on +her bed, she grows calmer.</p> + +<p>What a dreadful failure she has made of +it all! She has fought and struggled all +the week, only to meet defeat at the end. +What would Grannie say? How rudely +she spoke to mother just now—Grannie +wouldn't approve of that.</p> + +<p>"But I couldn't help it, and I can't do +anything to make things better, or the +house nicer. The harder I try, the worse +it all gets. I don't see any way out of it +at all, but earning my own living, and +letting them all go on as they like. I +wonder what Grannie would say to such a +plan? Well, I can't ask her, she's too far +away; and, Oh, dear, dear, she's forgotten +my birthday!"</p> + +<p>Worn out with crying and pain, presently +Betty falls asleep.</p> + +<p>When she has slept for about an hour, a +loud "rat-tat" at the street door awakens<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +her. She jumps up. The postman! Of +course, she had forgotten the twelve o'clock +post. She flies downstairs, still dizzy with +sleep. Mother and Clara have not heard +the knock, they are busy in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>A letter and a parcel. Betty almost +snatches them from the postman's hands, +and scans them eagerly.</p> + +<p>Yes, it is Grannie's well-known hand-writing. +How could she think dear Grannie +would forget her!</p> + +<p>Betty hurries upstairs with her treasures. +"A book—Grannie has sent me a book—that's +just like Grannie; she knows I like +reading better than anything."</p> + +<p>She strips off the brown paper with eager +fingers. The book looks quite delightful; +it is prettily bound, and nicely illustrated. +Betty turns over the leaves rapidly, and +her eyes fall on a picture that attracts her +attention directly.</p> + +<p>By the open door of a rose-clad cottage +stands a little maiden. She wears the quaint +close cap and quilted petticoat of the olden +time, and is eagerly looking at something +which the dear old dame in front of her +holds tightly clasped beneath the fingers of +her right hand.</p> + +<p>Somehow, the cottage reminds Betty of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +Grannie's cottage. The old dame is certainly +rather like Grannie, and the girl is, Oh, +just about her own age!</p> + +<p>Did Grannie send the book because she +also saw the resemblance?</p> + +<p>"I must find out," thinks Betty. "Mother +doesn't want me—she said so—and my head +still aches."</p> + +<p>So she lies down again, and begins to +read, "The Talking-Bird: A Wonder-Tale."</p> + +<p>"It's a real lovely story; I can see that. +I was rather afraid that a book from +Grannie might be rather dry—she's so <i>very</i> +good."</p> + +<p>Poor Betty! She has a great deal to +learn yet, that is evident. Really good +people are not dull; books that are good +and true can certainly never be "dry." +Betty wants to be good, she wants to walk +in the Narrow Way, and follow her Saviour +faithfully; but it all seems such uphill work; +doing one's duty is such a tiresome, wearisome +business; trying to be good is such a +dull, uninteresting affair.</p> + +<p>Her heart is still cold, you see; the fire +of the Holy Spirit has not yet warmed it +into loving life.</p> + +<p>So Betty begins to read. The rose-clad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +cottage looks sweet enough, but Betty soon +finds that there is very little sweetness in +the maiden's life. Poor Gerda's lot is a +hard one. She is always at work. She +must spin, and bake, and milk cows; yet +her stepmother never seems pleased with her.</p> + +<p>Gerda's two brothers are out all day +cutting wood in the great pine forests, but +though she knits them warm stockings, and +tries her best to cook them nice suppers, +they never give her a smile, or a kiss, or a +loving word. And Gerda says to herself:—</p> + +<p>"It does not matter how I work, or what +I do, I can never please anybody at all."</p> + +<p>Betty pauses a moment. "How very like +<i>my</i> experience!" she thinks. "Of course, +I have to do different work—mend horrid +stockings for Bob instead of knitting them, +and sweep and dust instead of spinning; +but the effect of it all is just the same, and +Bob is exactly like that. I do all I can to +please him. I always make the porridge +myself, because he says it's 'lumpy' when +Clara does it, but never a word of thanks +do I get. Why, he couldn't even trouble +to remember that to-day is my birthday, +and I saved up for weeks and weeks to +buy <i>him</i> a nice present on his birthday! +It's too bad!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Before Gerda's father married again," +Betty reads on, "she had been allowed to +manage the house as she pleased" ("I wish +I was"), "but now everything is changed. +Gerda loved to rise with the sun, and scour +the kitchen floor with white sand before +breakfast, and polish all the brass pans +until they shone like gold" ("I don't sand +floors or polish pans, but that's just how +I feel about getting my work done early"), +"but her stepmother liked hot cakes for +breakfast, and as she would not rise early +enough to bake them herself, Gerda had to +leave her work and cook cakes instead; +and because no one seemed to care for her, +or notice how hard she had to work, she +grew more discontented, and fretful, and +unhappy every day; and meantime all +around her became more difficult and sad."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, that's exactly like me!" sighs +Betty.</p> + +<p>Then she goes on to read how a strange +little old woman, in a big red cloak, came +to the cottage door one day. Her eyes +were blue as the sky, and she carried a flat +basket slung over one arm.</p> + +<p>"Gerda thought she had come to sell +ribbons and pins, and turned to shut the +door; but the old dame stopped her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +smilingly. 'I have come to <i>give</i>, and not +to sell,' she said.</p> + +<p>"'You have been fretting, my child, and +it's troubled you are, and sore and bitter +you are feeling against those who fret you. +Eh, my dear, I'll soon better that!' and +her blue eyes seemed to dance with the +knowledge of some happy secret.</p> + +<p>"But Gerda stood quite dumb with +amazement.</p> + +<p>"Then the old dame raised her folded +hand towards Gerda, and unclasped it a +little.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, how sweet!' she cried. There, in +the old woman's hand, nestled a tiny bird. +Its feathers were red as the heart of a rose, +and its eyes shone like diamonds.</p> + +<p>"'It is for you. My bird will stay with +you as long as you need him, and smooth +all the fret of your life away.'</p> + +<p>"Gerda stretched out eager hands towards +the beautiful bird. 'Oh,' she cried, 'if that +could only come true!'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 360px;"> +<img src="images/i049.png" width="360" height="600" alt=""'Oh, how sweet!' she cried."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'Oh, how sweet!' she cried."</span> +</div> + +<p>"'It will come true, my child, if you do +as I bid you. You must allow my bird to +perch on your shoulder, and be with you +wherever you go. He is a talking bird, +and whenever you are tempted to give an +angry answer, or speak a bitter word'—Gerda<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +hung her head; alas! she knew that +this would be very often—'you must let the +bird speak for you. Only do this, and in a +few months you will be the happiest girl in +the world.'</p> + +<p>"'But what will people say?' stammered +Gerda, quite bewildered.</p> + +<p>"'Directly my bird touches your shoulder +he will become invisible; <i>you</i> will feel him, +but no one will see him; and when he +speaks, his voice will be so like yours that +no one can tell the difference. Your part +is to keep down the angry words that rise +to your lips. My sweet bird will do the +rest,' and she kissed the bird's bright eyes, +and placed him gently on Gerda's shoulder, +and, behold! though she could feel the +light fluttering of feathers against her cheek, +she could see nothing."</p> + +<p>"What can be the meaning of this—what +is the bird going to do?" thinks +Betty, as she hastily turns the page.</p> + +<p>Betty has quite forgotten her headache, +and reads on:—</p> + +<p>"Just at that moment, Gerda saw her +little pet kid jump quite over the wall of +the yard where her father's fiercest watch-dog +was chained. 'Oh, it will be killed!' +she cried, and ran swiftly to the rescue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +But when she returned with the kid in her +arms, the old woman had gone. 'And I +never thanked her! You tiresome creature—it +was all your fault!'</p> + +<p>"That is what she began to say as she +lifted her hand to beat the poor little kid, +but at the same instant she felt the invisible +bird fluttering at her cheek again, and, lo +and behold! a voice—a voice exactly like +her own, only much sweeter—struck in ere +she could finish the sentence: 'Poor little +kid, you knew no better, and I am sure the +old woman will understand I did not mean +to be ungrateful—she had such kind, wise +eyes.'</p> + +<p>"Certainly the words were much wiser +than those she meant to use herself."</p> + +<p>That is only the beginning. The story +goes on to tell how Gerda's life is altered +altogether through the gentle, loving words +spoken by the bird in her stead; how her +brothers grow to love her, and are never +so happy as when they can give her +pleasure, bringing her home all sorts of +treasures at the end of their day's work. +Lilies from the valley, wild strawberries +from the hill, honey from the woodbee's +nest; how her stepmother becomes kind and +thoughtful, and her father calls her the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +sunshine of the home—and all this because +the old dame gave her that wonderful +speaking-bird!</p> + +<p>Betty reads to the end, and closes the +book with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"What a pity such things can't be true! +Now, if <i>I</i> had a lovely rose-coloured bird +who would perch on my shoulder, and +always say exactly the right thing in my +place when I felt cross, or stupid, how +different everything would be!</p> + +<p>"Dear me, what nonsense I am talking! +It's just a pretty child's story—that is all—and +I can't imagine why Grannie sent it +to me. I haven't read her letter yet. Dear +old Grannie—<i>she</i> didn't forget my birthday. +It was unkind of the others; just too +bad, after all I've done. Well, I'll see how +they like it themselves. I certainly shan't +worry much about presents for other +people's birthdays, if they won't even take +the trouble to remember mine!"</p> + +<p>Betty rises, and, taking Grannie's letter +to the window, begins to read.</p> + +<p>What love there is in the very first +words—what a warm birthday greeting! +Betty's eyes grow misty as she reads, and +she holds the page to her lips for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Grannie <i>really</i> loves me," she murmurs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is a long letter. Ah, here is something +about the book! Dear me, what can +Grannie mean?"</p> + +<p>"'Has my Betty guessed the <i>name</i> of +Gerda's speaking-bird yet? Has she discovered +the secret of the happiness that +came to the little maiden of the story?' +("No, indeed; how could I?") 'Does +Gerda's story fit my dear Betty's own +case?' ("Part of it does, of course.") +'Yes, for my Betty has troubles and trials; +my Betty is tempted to think her own life +is very hard and dull; is tempted to give +up trying; is perhaps thinking of getting +rid of the worry and fret by turning away +from it all, and going out to work for +herself?' ("Now, how could Grannie have +found that out? I'm sure <i>I</i> never said a +word about being a typist while I was with +her!")</p> + +<p>"'The bird's name was <i>Love</i>, Betty. +The wonderful change in Gerda's life was +brought about by pure, unselfish love.</p> + +<p>"'In all this world there is no force so +strong as love, Betty—true love; the love +that suffereth long and is kind; love that +seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked; +love that beareth all things, believeth all +things, hopeth all things, endureth all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +things; the love that our Lord Jesus Christ +gives to all those who truly love and follow +Him.'"</p> + +<p>Love! Betty looks rather blank. Does +Grannie mean that she isn't loving people +enough?</p> + +<p>"'The little maiden in the story had +been troubled and discontented, but after +she listened to the voice of the Spirit of +Love, and let it speak for her, all her trials +vanished away. The story of Gerda's Bird +is only a pretty tale, but, Betty, you are +one of God's soldiers now, and the Spirit +of Love has come to abide with you; to +dwell in your heart, and speak to your +soul. The Holy Spirit, dear, the Heavenly +Dove; the Lord's best gift to you.</p> + +<p>"'Listen to it, Betty; let its voice speak +for you. When sharp, unloving words rise +to your lips, keep them fast closed until the +Love within you can make itself heard.</p> + +<p>"'You want a happy home, my child; +you long for the love of all those around +you, but it is only by bringing the Lord +into all your thoughts about your home, +that it can be really happy—only by loving +others very much that you can win true +love in return.'"</p> + +<p>For a long time Betty stands by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +window, thinking, thinking as she has +never done before.</p> + +<p>"Is that <i>really</i> the way out of it? Can +love, and keeping one's temper, make all +that difference? Of course, I know that +Bob would like me better if I didn't scold +when he is rough and careless; and I'm +sure mother would rather I didn't worry +her about the house being so untidy and +badly managed. But then, if I <i>don't</i> scold +and worry, how can I get things into +proper order?"</p> + +<p>Suddenly a bright thought, like a ray +of pure light, darts into her mind—"Does +Grannie mean me to work just as hard to +make things nicer, but in a different way? +To love everybody so much that I don't +get cross when they seem careless and unreasonable?</p> + +<p>"Oh, have I been thinking too much of +myself—of my own plans? Oh, dear Lord, +help me, help me to seek the good of +others, help me to suffer long and be kind; +not to be easily provoked; help me to feel +that my home and all within it are precious +gifts from Thee!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>REAL TROUBLE</h3> + + +<p>Betty washes her face, brushes her hair, +and runs downstairs; new courage thrilling +her heart.</p> + +<p>"Yes, now, indeed, I will try what love +can do! Now I really will keep my temper +whatever happens; now love shall speak for +me however aggravating things may be!"</p> + +<p>She feels so sure of herself; nevertheless, +she has hardly been downstairs half a +minute before she nearly slips into her old +habits of irritation again.</p> + +<p>An ominous rumbling in the direction of +the kitchen chimney announces that the +sweep is still at work. The children's +dinner-hour has nearly arrived, there is no +dinner ready, and the sitting-room fire has +not even been lighted.</p> + +<p>"What <i>was</i> the use of telling me to go +away and rest, and then forgetting all about +the children's dinner in this way? It's too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +bad! I'd much rather have been without +the rest altogether than be worried like this, +and I shall just go and tell mother so—no, +I won't."</p> + +<p>Betty stops short. Where are all the +good resolutions she made not five minutes +ago? Where is the Love she was to listen +to, and learn from?</p> + +<p>"Mother has forgotten the dinner because +she is doing all the horrid, dirty +work of having the sweep herself, that I +might rest. I won't say anything; no, I +<i>won't</i>. I'll just run out and buy some +fish, and cook it myself, without saying a +word."</p> + +<p>She lights the fire, buys the fish, prepares +and cooks it in her swift, methodical +fashion, and has dinner quite ready just +as Bob and the younger children troop in +from school, and Lucy returns from her +music-lesson.</p> + +<p>"Dinner ready?" cries Bob roughly, +flinging his cap down on a chair.</p> + +<p>"Bob, how dare you do that? Hang +your cap up in the hall, directly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother; I shall want it again in +half a minute. Where's mother?"</p> + +<p>A wave of indignation sweeps over Betty +at his careless answer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not one scrap of dinner shall you have, +Bob, until your cap is hanging up in its +proper place; take it out at once!"</p> + +<p>"Shan't; where's mother? I want my +dinner. I don't want any of your nagging."</p> + +<p>Nagging—how Betty hates the word! +Bob knows her dislike of it well enough, +and always uses it when he means to be +especially aggravating. He does so now, +fully expecting her to begin scolding +violently.</p> + +<p>But somehow her very dislike of the +word reminds her of Grannie's letter, with +its warning about troubles and trials. Is +she nagging? has she failed already? Yet +how rude Bob is—how wrong!</p> + +<p>No, she <i>will</i> conquer; and she answers +quite gently.</p> + +<p>"Bob, how can you expect the younger +ones to behave properly if you set them a +bad example? They all watch you," and +she goes out to call her mother to dinner.</p> + +<p>The kitchen is in a truly dreadful state; +table, chairs, and saucepans, all heaped +together; a liberal sprinkling of soot over +everything; mother, with a great smudge +of soot across her face, Clara as grimy as +a sweep herself.</p> + +<p>"Dinner? Why, I declare I forgot all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +about it! Can I come? Bless the child, +of course not. Just look at the state that +careless man has left everything in; it's +disgraceful."</p> + +<p>"But, mother, dinner's all ready, and——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right; help the children, +and I'll come when I can."</p> + +<p>Betty's feelings are all up in arms again. +She has cooked the dinner herself, and +mother won't even take the trouble to come +and eat it—her birthday dinner, too! Again +her indignation almost masters her.</p> + +<p>"You must come, mother. Bob's horridly +cross."</p> + +<p>"Poor boy. Something has upset him +at school, I expect. He's made to work +much too hard over those lessons. Now, +Clara, I've told you over and over again +that I won't have the table scrubbed before +the floor's swept. Take that pail away at +once, and fetch the soft broom!"</p> + +<p>Betty sees that further interference will +be equally hopeless, and goes upstairs, the +spirit of rebellion surging in her heart.</p> + +<p>"So unnecessary, all this fuss and muddle; +what possible good can 'Love' do to all +this sort of thing?"</p> + +<p>Yet Love has already won one small +victory for her. Bob would not have hung<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +up his cap had she scolded for an hour. +But she had answered his last unkind remark +gently, and when she returns to the sitting-room +the cap is gone.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, as the day wears on, Betty +feels more and more despondent.</p> + +<p>"I don't see how things could be worse," +she thinks, "and I can't see how I can ever +make them any better."</p> + +<p>The younger children are in bed now, +and mother is trying to wash the soot from +her hands and face in her own room.</p> + +<p>"Father will be late to-night; he will +want his supper directly he comes home. +Of course, it will be left to me to get it. I +wonder what Lucy finds to do so perpetually +in her own room? I've a good mind to tell +her pretty plainly what I think of her selfish, +unsociable ways, always going away +by herself, and leaving me to attend to +everything," and Betty sighs wearily, and, +seating herself on the little sofa, begins to +sort over the heap of unmended stockings.</p> + +<p>The next moment she is startled by a +loud double knock at the street door. She +jumps to her feet and stands listening. +What can it be?</p> + +<p>Ah, now Clara is coming upstairs. She +is always so slow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>What is that? Clara screaming? Betty +flies down the passage.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Oh, Oh!" shrieks Clara. "The +master's killed, and they've brought him +home in a cab!"</p> + +<p>"Killed? No, no, miss; don't be frightened. +It's only a bad accident," says the +cabman, reassuringly, as he catches sight +of Betty's white face.</p> + +<p>"A bad accident! Father? Oh, what is +it?" gasps Betty.</p> + +<p>"Smashed his knee-cap, miss."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that all?" cries Betty.</p> + +<p>"All! Why, miss, that is the worst +kind of accident. Like as not, he'll never +put foot to ground again; he'd better by +far have broken both his legs. Is there +anyone in the house to help me get him in?"</p> + +<p>For a minute Betty's head seems to whirl +round, and she cannot think. But with a +great effort she steadies herself.</p> + +<p>"Bob, Bob!" she calls.</p> + +<p>Bob has come up, and is standing staring +into the darkness beside her, Lucy's +frightened face just behind him.</p> + +<p>"Bob, run in next door, and ask Mr. +Baker to come as quickly as ever he can; +we must have help. Father can't move. +Lucy, go and tell mother."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bob darts off, and Betty goes down to +the cab door.</p> + +<p>Father is lying back in the cab all +huddled together; one leg held stiffly +before him.</p> + +<p>"Is that my Betty?" he says feebly. +"Don't be frightened, dear lass, I shall be +right enough presently." But the dreadful +look of pain on his face turns her quite sick.</p> + +<p>Mr. Baker comes, and father is got into +the house; how, Betty never knows. Her +heart aches to hear the deep groan that +breaks from him when they lift him to the +sofa.</p> + +<p>It is father who remembers the cabman, +and bids Betty take the purse from his +pocket, and pay the man. As she gently +feels for it, her hand encounters an odd +stocking from the unmended pile on which +father is lying, and the thought darts +through her mind, "Oh, to think I felt +things like <i>that</i> to be a trouble this +morning!"</p> + +<p>Bob is off again to fetch the doctor. +Mother is in the room now, weeping, and +wringing her hands helplessly. Lucy stands +trembling with terror, and perfectly useless. +Only Betty seems to know what to do.</p> + +<p>Betty really loves her father, and her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +quick brain and skilful fingers are active +in his service. Her love has made her +forget herself entirely—for a time.</p> + +<p>It is her hands that arrange a pillow +under the injured knee supporting it in +such a manner that the pain is greatly +lessened. It is she who opens the window +to give him air, and brings a cup of hot +milk to relieve his exhaustion. There is +no thinking of herself just now, all her +own little troubles are quite forgotten. Is +there nothing she can do to make her +father's pain easier? That one thought +fills her heart.</p> + +<p>The doctor! Betty draws back, breathless +with anxiety. Will father groan again +when the doctor touches him?</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear Lord, do make the pain +better!" she murmurs, with pale lips. It +is the first time she has really prayed from +her heart of hearts for anyone save herself.</p> + +<p>"I was hurrying along, and slipped upon +a banana skin, falling with a crash to the +pavement, and striking my knee smartly +against the edge of the curb-stone," she +hears father explain to the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Ah, 'more haste less speed' this time, +with a vengeance, Mr. Langdale. It's a +pity you weren't more careful."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's my girl's birthday, and I had +only just remembered it," murmurs father +faintly. Oh, how poor Betty's conscience +pricks her as she hears the words!</p> + +<p>"Hem! bad job; bad job. A pair of +sharp scissors, my dear," and the doctor +turns to Betty, who flies to get them.</p> + +<p>The doctor cuts away the clothing from +the injured knee, and after a very brief +examination declares that his patient must +be taken to the hospital.</p> + +<p>"I will send an ambulance for you immediately, +Mr. Langdale. There is no help +for it, I am afraid," he says, and takes his +leave.</p> + +<p>There is another dreadful interval of waiting. +Mother continues to sob and rock +herself to and fro. Bob takes up his stand +by the window, on the look-out for the +ambulance. He is truly sorry for father, +yet, boy-like, feels all the painful importance +of the position.</p> + +<p>But Betty holds her father's hand, with +eyes brimful of pitying love.</p> + +<p>"Father, father," she whispers, "if I +could only help you; if I could only bear +some of the pain for you."</p> + +<p>A faint smile flickers into his face, and +the set features relax a little.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 359px;"> +<img src="images/i065.png" width="359" height="600" alt="A pillow under the injured knee." title="" /> +<span class="caption">A pillow under the injured knee.</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I fear you will have to bear your share, +my lass. The pain in my knee is nothing +to having to leave you all to shift for yourselves. +You must see Mr. Duncan, the +landlord of the houses I collect rents for, +the first thing to-morrow, and take him the +rent-books. You'll find them all in my +bag, and the money I've collected this +week, too. I haven't got it all yet. Perhaps +he'll do something for your mother while +I'm laid by; I don't know. Oh, Betty, my +girl, I must leave so much in your hands. +Do all you can for your mother. Try your +best to keep the home together."</p> + +<p>"Father, I'll try so hard. I'll do everything +I can. I'll——"</p> + +<p>"Here's the ambulance, and there's a +nurse and two men getting out," announces +Bob from the window.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Langdale's sobs rise into screams, +but Betty scarcely hears her; just now she +has eyes and ears for her father alone.</p> + +<p>Skilful hands carry him to the ambulance, +and this time no groan reaches Betty's +straining ears, as she follows the party.</p> + +<p>"Go to your mother! She needs you, +and I am in good hands. God bless you, +dear child! God be with you and help you!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>FOR FATHER'S SAKE</h3> + + +<p>Betty stands gazing at the ambulance, as +it passes steadily out of sight, and a feeling +of deep loneliness sweeps over her heart. +No one loves her, no one understands her +as father does, and now he has gone from +her.</p> + +<p>"Ah! there I am, thinking about myself +again—I <i>won't</i> do it!"</p> + +<p>She rouses herself with a brave effort, +and goes back into the house.</p> + +<p>A house full of noise and confusion just +now. Mother sobbing loudly in the little +sitting-room. Jennie and Pollie, awakened +from sleep, shrieking themselves hoarse in +their bedroom above. Clara helpless; Bob +dazed-looking; Lucy tearful. Only Betty +still manages to keep her wits about her.</p> + +<p>"Lucy, run upstairs and quiet the children—mother, +mother, you mustn't upset<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +yourself so—father will soon be better, I'm +sure—such a nice, sweet nurse came to +look after him. Come, mother, you're quite +tired out; lie down on the sofa, and I'll +make you a cup of tea."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what shall I do? What shall I +do?" moans Mrs. Langdale.</p> + +<p>"Father will soon be in less pain, +and——"</p> + +<p>"But what shall <i>I</i> do? Most likely he'll +never be able to walk again. Mr. Duncan +will get some one else to collect his rents +and look after the houses, and we shall all +starve."</p> + +<p>"Mother, you really must not worry +about all that to-night. Father told me to +go and see Mr. Duncan to-morrow, and +perhaps he'll do something for us."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Duncan do anything? Why, he's +as hard as flint, always grumbling at your +father for not getting the last penny out of +the tenants; <i>he</i> do anything? Oh, no, no!"</p> + +<p>"Well, we don't know how it will be +yet. Come, mother, I'm going to make +you that cup of tea, and you must lie down +while I get it."</p> + +<p>Betty makes the tea, and coaxes her +mother into taking it, and presently persuades +her to go to bed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is very late by this time, the house is +quiet, and Betty goes to bed herself.</p> + +<p>Now, at last, in the silence, she has time +to think.</p> + +<p>This morning—was it really only this +morning that she was so foolishly vexed +because her birthday was not remembered? +Did she really feel the sweep's visit a big +trouble only a few hours ago? How small, +how utterly insignificant her troubles have +been up to now! And yet she has made +so much of them, has felt herself so hardly +used!</p> + +<p>For a long time she lies awake, turning +it all over in her mind. "Father, dear, +patient old father is tossing in pain and +fever, and his worry is much worse than +mine, for he must lie still and think, and I +can be up and at work. It is so much +harder to bear things when you can do +nothing to make them better. Lord, show +me what to do; show me how to work for +our home—for father's sake."</p> + +<p>Somehow, soon after that prayer, Betty +falls into a sound sleep, and does not awake +until it is morning.</p> + +<p>When at length she opens her eyes, it is +time to get up. For a moment she lies +still enough, not remembering what has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +happened; then, with a rush, it all comes +back to her, and she starts out of bed.</p> + +<p>Father, mother, children—what can she +do for them all? Last night she had no +answer to that question, but now a bright, +a daring hope has flashed into her mind. +Why shouldn't <i>she</i> collect Mr. Duncan's +rents, and keep his accounts whilst father +is laid by? She wanted to go out to work +for herself. Here is the chance of doing +something much better, of working for +father's sake, of lifting a great part of this +heavy load from his heart!</p> + +<p>But can she do it—can she? Her heart +sinks again. "Oh, will Mr. Duncan give +me a trial?" Suddenly she remembers +Grannie. "How sorry Grannie will be for +this—Oh, if I were like Grannie how much +easier it would be! Let me think, if Grannie +was in my place, what would she do first?"</p> + +<p>The answer to that question is easy +enough. "She would pray."</p> + +<p>Betty kneels by the bedside. She prays +for her father, and then she prays for herself; +prays that she may have strength +given her, and wisdom, and courage, to do +her work bravely and well.</p> + +<p>Mother is quite unfit for anything this +morning. Lucy must give up her music-lesson<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +to wait on her. The children are +very fretful. Clara declares she is "too +much upset to do her usual work, and it +ought not to be expected of her."</p> + +<p>Only Betty is patient and gentle, striving +to get through the usual duties. Love is +leading her at last—love for her father. Just +now no thought of self dims her memory +of his suffering face.</p> + +<p>But for all that her heart beats very fast, +when at last she knocks at Mr. Duncan's +door, and her grand plan of carrying on a +part of dear father's work suddenly appears +quite hopeless.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it will make Mr. Duncan +quite angry to propose such a thing. Had +not I better just give him the money father +collected, and say nothing about my idea +after all?" Betty hesitates a moment, +then—</p> + +<p>"For father's sake—for father's sake," +she murmurs to herself.</p> + +<p>The door is opened by a neat maid. Yes, +Mr. Duncan is at home, will she please to +give her name? Another minute and she +is shown into a room, where an elderly +gentleman is writing at a table.</p> + +<p>"The young person to see you, sir," +announces the maid.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>The elderly gentleman looks up with a +frown, and fixes a pair of hard grey eyes +on her face.</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the meaning of this?" +he says gruffly. "Where's your father?"</p> + +<p>Betty pauses a moment.</p> + +<p>"Where's your father? I want to see +him particularly," repeats Mr. Duncan, +still more angrily.</p> + +<p>Betty quakes inwardly; but her courage +is of the kind that always rises at an +emergency, and she explains what has +happened in a clear business-like fashion.</p> + +<p>"Hem! accident indeed—pretty fix his +accident has left me in," grumbles Mr. +Duncan, when she has finished. "Have +you the money with you?"</p> + +<p>Betty produces it. He counts it over. +"Why, how's this? There's two pounds +short!"</p> + +<p>"Father was to collect that to-day, sir; +there's a note in his book saying which of +the tenants haven't paid yet."</p> + +<p>"Hem! bad system. If they can't pay +up to time, they ought to go. And what +am I to do now, pray?"</p> + +<p>"Please, if you'll let me, I'll go round +to the tenants in father's place," cries +Betty, eagerly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You? Why, what does a girl like you +know about it?"</p> + +<p>"I'm good at accounts; and father has +told me how it is done, and shown me the +books—I help him with them sometimes. +If you would <i>only</i> let me try, sir—until +father gets better——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's it, is it? <i>You</i> want to take +over my work!" and, rather to Betty's surprise, +the hard old eyes give a little twinkle +of amusement. "No—no, my girl, you +don't understand; there's a great deal +besides just collecting the money. Repairs +to attend to; bad tenants to get rid of; new +tenants to bargain with——"</p> + +<p>"But, sir," interrupts Betty, eagerly, "if +you would only let me try to do the best +I can until father comes out of the hospital—perhaps +the repairs could wait—and I'd +try <i>so</i> hard; and—and we've nothing but +a few pounds in the savings bank, and +father said he thought you might do something——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he did—did he? Very kind of +him, I'm sure!" snaps Mr. Duncan, the +hard, suspicious look returning to his face.</p> + +<p>Betty feels ready to burst into tears. "He +thinks the very idea of employing me utterly +absurd," she thinks, and turns to go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<p>But hardly have her fingers touched the +handle, before Mr. Duncan calls her back.</p> + +<p>"Don't be in such a hurry, young +person. Your father is a great deal too +soft with the tenants; but I believe he +means well, and I'm sorry for his accident. +Suppose you go round to the tenants who +haven't paid this morning? It will be time +enough to talk about your taking on the +work when I see what you can do."</p> + +<p>She is to have a trial after all! The +expression on Betty's face changes so +quickly, that Mr. Duncan's eyes twinkle +again.</p> + +<p>"Hem! you needn't look so pleased. I +don't promise anything, mind—why, bless +the girl, if she isn't off already! Well, if +she takes after her father, I might do +worse. Soft-hearted—a great deal too soft-hearted—but +as honest as the day," and +the old gentleman returns to his writing.</p> + +<p>Betty hurries home for her father's little +rent-collecting bag; and then makes her +way through the network of narrow streets, +in the midst of which the houses owned by +Mr. Duncan stand.</p> + +<p>Arriving at the long row, she looks round +her in some dismay.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 351px;"> +<img src="images/i075.png" width="351" height="600" alt=""Rent?" cries the woman bitterly." title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Rent?" cries the woman bitterly.</span> +</div> + +<p>How small the houses are—how dirty!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +How narrow and wretched-looking the +street!</p> + +<p>She consults her list, and knocks timidly +at the door of the first number. No answer. +She knocks again. A shuffling of feet +follows, and presently a woman appears. +She is haggard and old-looking, and the +child in her arms is wailing pitifully. A +second child clings to her skirt, and mother +and children alike are wretchedly clad.</p> + +<p>"Rent?" cries the woman bitterly, in +answer to Betty's timid request. "Pray, +how do you suppose I'm to pay the rent, +and my husband still on the drink? I told +the agent it was no use calling, and if he +wants to turn me out, he must!"</p> + +<p>And without giving Betty time to answer, +she drags the children in, and slams the +door.</p> + +<p>Betty has not the courage to knock +again. What a glimpse of dull, hopeless +misery the woman's face and voice have +revealed to her! She passes on to the next +house.</p> + +<p>The woman who answers this door is +rather cleaner. "Called for the rent? +But you're not the agent," she says, +looking at Betty very suspiciously.</p> + +<p>Betty explains. "Hum! I don't like the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +look of it. How do I know it's all right? +There, you needn't look so offended. If +<i>you</i> had had to work early and late, denying +yourself your proper rest, and a bit of +butter to your bread, to make up the rent, +you'd be careful who you trusted it with, I +can tell you."</p> + +<p>Betty shows the poor woman her father's +collecting book, and after a while the rent +is put grudgingly into her hands. Betty +cannot bear to take it from the poor thing.</p> + +<p>It is a slow, miserable business, but +before the morning is over Betty manages +to get the greater part of the two pounds +together.</p> + +<p>"Hem; short, as usual," is Mr. Duncan's +discouraging remark, as he counts it over.</p> + +<p>Betty feels sick at heart. The morning's +work has been quite a new experience. +Occupied only with her own thoughts and +plans, she has thought very little about +other people's difficulties; and the miserable +homes she has just seen have shocked +and pained her deeply.</p> + +<p>Mr. Duncan weighs the money in his +hand for a moment or two, as though +considering.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't be bothered just now with +looking up anyone else. I suppose we'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +better go on as we are—for the present. +Here's the whole rent account-book; take +it home, and let me know how much rent +I've lost on the half-year. Good morning."</p> + +<p>So she is to take up part of father's +work, after all! How glad dear father +will be!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>DAY BY DAY</h3> + + +<p>For the first time in her life Betty is +glad to be at home. The rooms seem more +comfortable and airy than they have ever +done before.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how thankful I am that I don't +live in that horrid, narrow street, like those +poor wretched-looking women and children!" +she thinks. Even one morning's work +among people so much worse off than herself +has opened her eyes a little to the +blessings she possesses in her home.</p> + +<p>Why, if father were only coming home +as usual to-night, she could feel almost +happy—<i>if</i>—ah! but father is not coming +home; yet he will come some day, his life +is in no danger. Oh, she will be brave for +his sake, she will be true to the trust he +has left in her hands!</p> + +<p>No dinner ready again; mother still quite +incapable of attending to anything, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +poor Betty thoroughly tired out with her +anxious morning's work. Yet she is not +even cross.</p> + +<p>No, the more trying and difficult things +are, the greater the victory; and just now +she feels braced up, heart and soul, for the +fight.</p> + +<p>It is sometimes easier to be brave and +unselfish in a time of real trouble, than to +bear with patience and sweetness the little +worries of everyday life.</p> + +<p>But Betty is on the right road now, she +is doing great things; she is marching +straight on; she is opening her heart to the +Lord, and allowing His light to shine into +its dark places, and there is hope that +before the little, wearing everyday worries +come back again, she may be strong +enough to resist even them, and prove +herself a true Soldier at last.</p> + +<p>She may fail though, and darken the +light that God sends her! Well, we will +hope for better things.</p> + +<p>So Betty bustles about, and has dinner +ready as usual when the children come in. +Not until they are all off to school again +has she time to tell her mother of the +morning's work.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Langdale is not at all encouraging.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nice place to send a girl like you to. +What is he going to pay you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know yet, mother."</p> + +<p>"And you never thought of asking? +You silly child! He'll take your work and +give you nothing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't do that, +mother." But she looks rather blank at the +idea.</p> + +<p>"Well, you'll see; and don't say I didn't +warn you. When are you going to see +Mr. Duncan again?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow. I'm to make out an +account of the rents to-night, and take it +with me."</p> + +<p>Betty finds that this last is easier said +than done. She pores over the books until +her head aches. Presently Bob comes in.</p> + +<p>"Here, Betty, look sharp. I want a +button sewn on my coat, and I can't find +that new pair of boot-laces, and—why, just +fancy sitting there reading like that! No +wonder a fellow can never get anything +done in this house—it's too bad!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not reading, I'm doing Mr. +Duncan's accounts," says Betty quietly. +The knowledge that she is working unselfishly +for the good of her family is a grand +help towards keeping her temper!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bob stares. "Rubbish!" he says.</p> + +<p>"Come and see, Bob. I'm to do part of +father's work, and Oh, I do wish you could +help me. I feel so stupid to-night, and +there is so much to do."</p> + +<p>Bob melts at once. "Why, Bet, who +would have thought of your doing such a +thing? There, let me see—Ah, here we +are! Now then——"</p> + +<p>But, alas! just as Bob is beginning to +bring his brand-new ideas of correct book-keeping +to bear on the problem before +them, a violent outcry arises from Pollie, +who, until now, has been playing fairly +quietly with Jennie in the corner.</p> + +<p>"Harry, you bad, wicked boy!" she +screams, "I'll pull all your hair out, that +I will!" and she rushes at Harry like a +little fury. Harry defends himself savagely, +and Jennie, curled up on the floor, howls +her loudest.</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Jennie! Pollie and Harry, +if you don't leave off fighting at once, I'll +box your ears all round!" cries Bob, looking +up angrily from his work.</p> + +<p>"Harry's sawn the leg off one of our +dollies!" shrieks Pollie, "and he's a bad, +bad, wicked boy!"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 360px;"> +<img src="images/i083.png" width="360" height="600" alt="Harry defends himself savagely." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Harry defends himself savagely.</span> +</div> + +<p>"She asked me to," roars Harry; "her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +dollie had smashed its leg like father, and +I was the doctor, and had to take it off."</p> + +<p>"He hadn't! He was to cure its bad +leg, and now he's made it worse, and I'll +pull his hair out for that, I will!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care about your old dolls and +rubbish; but if you're not quiet this minute +I'll knock all your heads together and give +you something to cry for!" cries Bob, still +more angrily, and he starts from his chair +as though to execute his threat.</p> + +<p>But Betty lays her hand entreatingly on +his arm. "Oh, Bob, don't; father wouldn't +like it. He can't bear you to strike the +children. Pollie, perhaps the doll can be +mended; Harry didn't mean any harm. +Harry, be quiet, you must not beat your +little sister. Pollie, leave go, you naughty +girl——"</p> + +<p>But Betty is powerless to stop the storm. +Bob tries to separate Harry and Pollie, who +are fighting desperately. Harry kicks at +Bob, whereat the elder brother loses his +temper altogether, and cuffs Harry vigorously +on both sides of his head. Harry +roars; Jennie and Pollie continue to shriek. +Bob, his face flaming with wrath, drags +each screaming, kicking child to the door, +and flings it into the passage. Then he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +locks the door, and with flushed face and +tumbled hair, though pretending to look +quite unconcerned, goes on with the books, +in spite of the yells from the passage +outside.</p> + +<p>Betty is in despair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Bob, how could you be so violent? +If father had been at home you would not +have behaved so——"</p> + +<p>"Look here, Betty, if you're going to +begin that, you may take the books yourself +and do them; I'm sick of the whole +thing!"</p> + +<p>Betty is wise enough to make no answer +to Bob's outburst. She leaves the room +quietly, and, after some trouble, pacifies +the children, and sees them all safely in bed.</p> + +<p>She feels thoroughly humiliated and +miserable. The whole thing is such a keen +disgrace; that <i>her</i> brothers and sisters +should behave so roughly and rudely!</p> + +<p>How untrained they all are—how badly +brought up! No wonder father has grown +so sad and old-looking of late. His old +home—when he lived with Grannie—must +have been very different.</p> + +<p>She returns to the accounts. Bob is still +poring over them, but looks so savage that +she is almost afraid to speak. He finishes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +the work in silence, answers her thanks +with a grunt, and goes off with his head in +the air, and both hands deep in his pockets.</p> + +<p>And Betty goes to bed herself, depressed +indeed.</p> + +<p>But the next morning there is a short +pencil-note from father. His knee is more +comfortable, but the doctor fears it will be +a long business. He is most anxious to +hear what Mr. Duncan will do.</p> + +<p>Reading the note to mother, who is not +up yet, makes Betty rather later than usual, +and she runs straight to the kitchen to +hurry on the breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Clara, the kettle not boiling yet, +nor the porridge on—why, this is too bad! +You are more behindhand than ever. Pray, +how does this happen?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know," mutters Clara, sulkily.</p> + +<p>"But you ought to know. Come, make +haste—a bundle of wood, quick! The +children must leave in half an hour."</p> + +<p>Betty bustles about, and manages to get +some sort of meal ready in time.</p> + +<p>Breakfast over, and the children gone to +school, she returns to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Things cannot be allowed to go on like +this. She must talk to Clara.</p> + +<p>But what can she say? Clara is so used<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +to scolding, that she cares nothing for it. +No, she must try to reason with her; she +must teach her to think.</p> + +<p>Wise Betty! Perplexed and troubled, +she turns into the now deserted sitting-room +for a few moments, and asks the Lord +to help her. Then she goes back.</p> + +<p>"Clara," she begins, "I have to go out +this morning to look after some of father's +business. I shall have to go out a good +deal, for the work must be done, and is +not easy to do; indeed, I can't do it at all +unless you help me."</p> + +<p>Clara opens her eyes very wide at this.</p> + +<p>"I see you wonder what I mean. You +must help me by getting all your work +nicely forward, and the dinner prepared +before I get back. Now, just look at this +kitchen; I don't believe it's been swept +since the day before yesterday; has it, +Clara?"</p> + +<p>Clara is silent; and begins biting the +corner of her apron sulkily.</p> + +<p>"Why are you neglecting everything in +this way? Come, answer me, Clara."</p> + +<p>"Don't know; I'm upset, I s'pose."</p> + +<p>"Well, what has upset you?"</p> + +<p>"Master's accident, of course. I wouldn't +care a bit if it was some folks—serve them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +right! But master, who never speaks a +cross word to anyone, and always asks after +mother—that it should happen to him! It +isn't fair! I don't see what is to prevent +<i>any</i> of us getting our legs broken if he is +to be smashed up in this way; and I'm that +upset, I can't seem to settle to anything."</p> + +<p>"But that is just what we've all got to +learn to do—for father's sake. And, Clara, +I think God has sent us this trouble because +we have all been so careless and thankless +in the past. You've never really cared to +do your work properly, I'm afraid; you've +never felt any real responsibility about +it——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, how can you say that? I'm always +at work, and never, never done!"</p> + +<p>"That's just because you never think +about your work; you don't ever take the +trouble to arrange it; and you don't care a +bit about neatness or cleanliness."</p> + +<p>Clara raises the corner of the dirty +apron from her mouth to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"What's the good?" she whimpers. "I +should get in a muddle again directly; my +work isn't anything <i>but</i> muddle!"</p> + +<p>"But that's what it shouldn't be. You +do your work as though you thought it +wasn't worth doing at all."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't think about it at all," mutters +Clara.</p> + +<p>"That's just it. My Grannie, she keeps +her house as clean and tidy as a new pin, +and yet always has time for everything. +My Grannie says that all work is really +beautiful if it is done for God. Did you +never hear of the little servant who used +to say she swept the floor for God, and +cleaned the pots for God, too? God sees +everything, you know.</p> + +<p>"Then, again, you're sorry for father's +accident; but why don't you show you're +sorry by doing your work in the way father +would like? Untidy rooms and careless, +slipshod ways worry him dreadfully. Now, +wouldn't it be nice if we could get all the +house in apple-pie order, and ourselves into +nice, tidy ways, before he comes out of the +hospital? What a smile of thanks he would +give us all round! Come, isn't that something +worth trying for?"</p> + +<p>"Hum! Don't see how it's going to be +done," mutters Clara, looking round the +untidy kitchen hopelessly. "We're just in +a muddle everywhere."</p> + +<p>"We can't get straight all of a minute, +of course. But what I want us to do is to +make a beginning. Ah, there's ten o'clock<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +striking! I must go to Mr. Duncan with +the books. Now, you will try—won't you, +Clara? You'll work for God, and to please +father, and to help me; and, Clara," adds +Betty, in a hurried whisper, "<i>do</i> run +upstairs and put your cap straight, and +wash that great black smut from your face—it's +right across your nose."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE CAPTAIN</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Duncan offers to give Betty a third +part of her father's usual earnings. The +rent-collecting will occupy three long mornings +in the week at least, and an hour or +two of every evening must be spent over +the books.</p> + +<p>The sights and sounds of the district she +has to collect for trouble Betty dreadfully. +Some of the women look utterly weary and +down-trodden; others again are always +scolding and quarrelling. Then the poor, +sickly children—and occasional glimpses of +rough, drink-sodden men—haunt her mind. +She has over a hundred houses to collect +for, and it takes her the whole of the three +mornings to get through them all.</p> + +<p>How many stories of want and misery +she has listened to before the week's work +is over!</p> + +<p>"My husband has taken to the drink<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +again." "My father was knocked down +by a van and carried to the hospital." +"The children have all got the measles." +"Mother's taken bad with bronchitis." +"My husband hasn't done a stroke of work +for three weeks." Are all the stories true? +Betty has no means of knowing.</p> + +<p>Sick at heart, she returns home and +throws herself into a chair after each morning's +work. A shabby, untidy room? Well, +perhaps it is; but, Oh! how different from +the homes she has just visited! How +wrong she has been to grumble so in the +past—how wicked to be discontented!</p> + +<p>One day she returns in a specially humble +frame of mind.</p> + +<p>"My home could be made a really beautiful +one if I only knew how to manage. +But I don't. I'm very stupid, somehow. +I try and try, but never seem to know what +to do for the best.</p> + +<p>"Have I made any difference at all, +since I came home from Grannie's?</p> + +<p>"Clara is a little better, perhaps—at +least, her face is a shade cleaner; and I +didn't notice more than two saucepans +standing about, and—Oh! yes, the kettle +was boiling this morning—I mustn't forget +all that; but how rough the children are!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +How unreasonable Bob is at times! Two +or three evenings he has stayed out quite +late. Father wouldn't like that—I wonder +where he goes? Then, there's Lucy; +nothing in the home seems to interest her. +I do think it very selfish of her to spend so +much time in reading, especially just now.</p> + +<p>"When I first returned home, I thought +everything was wrong; now I can see it +isn't the home so much, it's the people in +it. We're all spoiling it—and I'm helping +to spoil it as well.</p> + +<p>"What grand thoughts I had about +making everything right all at once, and +what a little I seem likely to do!"</p> + +<p>All day Betty goes about her work in the +same humble spirit, with a sense of failure +strong upon her.</p> + +<p>The excitement of father's accident is +over now; they have settled down into their +old grooves again. True, Betty has much +extra work to do, but all the glory of +fighting grand difficulties has died out of +her life again.</p> + +<p>Collecting rents is certainly a very +depressing business; that is, in a poor, +unthrifty neighbourhood. No, there is +nothing splendid about it.</p> + +<p>"The house is as untidy as ever," she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +thinks, "and the younger children so rude +and boisterous—and mother doesn't seem +to care a bit."</p> + +<p>Lower sink Betty's spirits as the day +wears on. Now, is the real time of trial; +now, indeed, she needs all her courage and +resolution.</p> + +<p>A letter from Grannie! Two letters—one +to mother about father's accident, and +a long loving letter of good counsel to +herself.</p> + +<p>Betty carries her treasure away to her +own room; a few sprigs of fresh lavender +fall from between the folded pages as she +opens it. How Grannie's rooms always +smelt of lavender! Her eyes fill with tears +at the memories the delicate scent recalls to +her mind!</p> + +<p>"How lovingly Grannie's letter begins! +Ah, she doesn't know what a failure I am +making of everything!" thinks poor Betty.</p> + +<p>"What is this? What does Grannie +say?" Betty gazes eagerly at the page. +"Oh! how did she guess all this?"</p> + +<p>"I know, dear, that this is a time of real +fighting," so the letter runs; "that every +day brings its hard battle—the battle of +standing firm against the worry and irritation +of little things." Betty sighs. "Yes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +and I feel sure that every day sees a hard-won +victory, too." Betty shakes her head, +and one big tear steals slowly down her +cheek.</p> + +<p>"You have written very little about +yourself lately, but I can see from your +mother's letters, and from your own, too, +that the Bird of Love is beginning to speak +in your voice; that my dear Betty is letting +the Lord Jesus rule in her heart.</p> + +<p>"You have much to learn yet, dear, and +little to help you to learn it. Can you not +go to The Army Meetings? I hear that +Captain Janet Scott, a dear young friend +of mine, has just gone in charge of the +Corps in Duke Street. I have written to +her about you. Do ask your mother's +leave to go to the Meetings."</p> + +<p>"O Grannie, I should so love to go," +murmurs Betty; "but I am afraid—I'm +quite sure—mother would never let me, even +if I asked her!"</p> + +<p>"Go on fighting bravely, dear; do not +allow these little troubles to wear away +your courage. Trust the Lord more and +more. Lean on Him; fight in His strength, +and a bright day of victory will dawn for +you at last. Ah, Betty, it is dawning for +you now! Already the true, unselfish love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +that will make you a happy girl is beginning +to shine in your heart."</p> + +<p>"Oh! how <i>can</i> she say that?" and the +tears that sparkle in Betty's eyes now are +tears of joy. "Can that really be true?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"I knew mother wouldn't let me go to +The Army Meetings—I was perfectly <i>sure</i> +of it!" exclaims Betty to herself the morning +after Grannie's letter. Her eyes are +heavy with trouble again, her heart sore +with painful recollections. She has asked +for permission, and been refused, and the +words of mother's refusal have been hard +to bear.</p> + +<p>"How can she be so unjust, so unreasonable?" +thinks Betty, angrily, as she enters +the crowded district where Mr. Duncan's +property lies, for she is rent-collecting +again.</p> + +<p>Grannie's letter had cheered her for +awhile, but the talk with mother this morning +has plunged her again into the depths +of gloom. Just now everything seems dark +and sad indeed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, I've the same dreary round +of calls to make, I suppose, the same unhappiness +to see everywhere.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What a dreadful amount of trouble +there is in this world, and there doesn't +seem to be any way of making things +better. No. 41. Oh, yes; the woman here +has a tiny, tiny baby, and she's very weak +and wretched, and there's a whole troop of +dirty, rough-haired little children, with no +one to look after them. I can't bear to +knock—how can she pay anything? Well, +I suppose I must."</p> + +<p>"Come in—the door is unbolted!" cries +a cheery voice, in answer to her knock—a +very different voice from that she had +expected to hear.</p> + +<p>Betty steps reluctantly into the passage.</p> + +<p>"What is it you want, please?" says the +voice again, from a room at the back. +Betty explains her business wonderingly; +the voice is so unlike the dull, hopeless +tones with which she is usually greeted.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all right, Captain," says a +second voice, far more feebly, "it's the +young lady for the rent."</p> + +<p>"Do come in please, and excuse me just +a moment, as I can't leave the child like +this," cries the cheery voice.</p> + +<p>Whereat Betty steps to the door and +peeps in.</p> + +<p>Round a big empty packing-case, placed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +in the centre of the room, the tenant's +three children are gathered.</p> + +<p>The little boy, his face shining with +cleanliness, and his usually tousled head +smooth and glossy, is looking on, whilst a +sweet-faced woman, in a blue serge dress +and big apron, is washing one of his sisters +in a large basin, with a plentiful supply of +soap and water.</p> + +<p>On the floor sits a third child awaiting +her turn; and on the bed in the corner lies +the sick woman, her baby on her arm, and +such a hopeful expression on her face that +Betty scarcely recognises her.</p> + +<p>"Come in, miss," she says, "I've got +a bit of rent for you this week, thanks to +Captain helping my husband to some work. +Here it is," and she pulls a few shillings, +wrapped in a scrap of paper, from under +her pillow.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mrs. Smith," says Betty. +"That is the Captain, I suppose?" she +adds, glancing towards the washing operations +going on in the middle of the room.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 348px;"> +<img src="images/i099.png" width="348" height="600" alt="A plentiful supply of soap and water." title="" /> +<span class="caption">A plentiful supply of soap and water.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Bless her! yes," answers Mrs. Smith, +in a low voice. "And an angel from the +Lord she's been to me, miss. Washed the +children regular, tidied up, made my bit of +gruel, given the children their dinners,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +and, what's better than all, she put fresh +heart in me, miss, with her beautiful +prayers and pleadings. Last week I felt +that I wanted to give up and die. Oh, the +Lord is good to send me such a friend!"</p> + +<p>"Come, come, Mrs. Smith, the Lord is +always good to those who trust Him," interposes +the Captain, who has overheard +the last remark.</p> + +<p>Is this Captain Janet Scott—Grannie's +friend? Betty must know, and stands +waiting until the washing is finished, and +the Captain puts on her bonnet to go.</p> + +<p>They pass out of the house together, but +a sudden shyness has come over Betty, and +she quite stammers as she says:—</p> + +<p>"Please, are you Captain Janet Scott?"</p> + +<p>The Captain gives her a bright look. +"Yes; and who are you—one of my +Soldiers? I hoped so directly I saw you."</p> + +<p>"I am—that is, I'd like to be—only I'm +afraid I mustn't," stammers Betty.</p> + +<p>"Mustn't be a Soldier? How's that, my +child?"</p> + +<p>"I'm Betty Langdale. You know my +Grannie—she lives near Moordale. She's +a Salvationist, but mother won't let me be +one. I've tried to persuade her only this +morning to say yes, but it's no use."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Betty Langdale—of course! I'm so +glad to see you, dear, and you can be a +Soldier, even if the way is not yet open +for you to be sworn-in. You can be the +Lord's true Soldier, fighting His battles in +His strength."</p> + +<p>"But mother says she will never let me +go to the Meetings."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, dear; but keep believing, +and remember that Meetings alone do not +make good Soldiers. God will help you to +fight your battles at home. Fight against +wrong wherever you see it. Keep very close +to Jesus. Do all you can for those at +home, and you can be a true Salvationist, +although at present you may not join The +Army."</p> + +<p>"But mother ought <i>not</i> to stop me +from attending the Meetings, ought she, +Captain?"</p> + +<p>"My dear, it is not your place to judge +your mother. Your whole thought should +be to win her gently, to <i>prove</i> to her your +sincerity by your life.</p> + +<p>"It is only by keeping things in their +places, you know, that we have a tidy +house. It is only through giving each +member of our family his or her true place +that we can have a happy home. Keep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +true and patient, and God Himself will +one day open the door for you.</p> + +<p>"Trust Him, commit your life into His +hands, and He will undertake for you and +make the crooked places smooth.</p> + +<p>"I have to call here, my child; but we +shall meet again soon, and meantime God +bless and help you every day."</p> + +<p>And with a bright smile and warm +handshake, Captain Janet Scott goes on +her way, leaving Betty with a heart filled +with joy. It was surely God Himself who +planned that she should meet the Captain +in this unexpected way, God who had sent +His own sweet messenger to Betty to give +her this much-needed counsel and advice!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>A PLACE FOR EVERY ONE</h3> + + +<p>"Every one has a right place," thinks +Betty, when her morning's work is done. +"Yes, that sounds true enough, but how +am I to manage in our house? I wish +Captain had explained more about it.</p> + +<p>"Now, let me think—what is my right +place? It is my place to be loving and +thoughtful, to strive to help every one, +that's what Grannie would say. Well, I +am trying to do that. 'It is <i>not</i> your +place to judge your mother,' so said my +dear Captain. Of course, it is not. I +know that, and yet I suppose that is just +what I was doing when I spoke so impatiently +about her. Mother's place? +Have I ever given mother her right place? +Have I ever been really loving, really +thoughtful for her, really obedient?</p> + +<p>"But, then, mother has such old-fashioned +notions, and such unpunctual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +ways, and—no, I <i>won't</i> go on; I mustn't +think these thoughts—this isn't giving +mother her true place, this isn't keeping +to the spirit of Captain's words!</p> + +<p>"How sweet Captain is! Her big brown +eyes are as clear and kind as Grannie's, +and her voice is just the nicest I have ever +heard. How I should love to be like her, +to make all that difference when I went +into a miserable house! Poor Mrs. Smith +looked quite bright; and such a change in +the children! If I could be an Officer, +now, and go about making people happy, +how delightful that would be!"</p> + +<p>Then, with a new and true humility that +is only just beginning to make itself felt +in her heart, she adds:—</p> + +<p>"Ah! but I'm not good enough. I'm +too impatient, too irritable. No, no, I +haven't learnt yet to be a good Soldier—why, +I haven't learnt yet how to make <i>one</i> +home happy. I must learn to serve with +patience. I must conquer myself; then, +perhaps, in the days to come, the Lord will +open the way to me, and I, too, may go +into sad homes as a messenger of peace +and love."</p> + +<p>"Betty!" Mother's voice, calling querulously +from the first-floor landing. Betty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +runs upstairs. Mother has a shawl round +her shoulders, and looks very gloomy and +upset.</p> + +<p>"Betty, can't you keep the children +quiet? My head aches dreadfully, but it's +quite useless to try and get any sleep with +Jennie and Pollie stamping about just over +one's head. I sent them up to the attic +to be out of the way, and they've done +nothing but quarrel ever since—tiresome +little good-for-nothings!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course, they must come down +at once, mother. Shall I send them out for +a walk?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, they're so dreadfully rough, +throwing stones and shouting themselves +hoarse like a couple of street boys. I don't +know what I've done, I'm sure, to have +such troublesome children."</p> + +<p>Betty fetches her two younger sisters +down from the attic, and sends them out +to play in the small garden-yard at the +back of the house. She has a great deal of +difficulty, for they are both so headstrong +and unruly that they will hardly obey at +all. At last she persuades them to settle +down to a game of horses, and goes back.</p> + +<p>But five minutes have barely elapsed +when mother's voice is heard again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Betty, what are those children doing? +I declare their noise is making me quite ill!"</p> + +<p>Dismal shrieks from the back of the house +confirm her words. Betty flies to a window +and looks out.</p> + +<p>Pollie, screaming with terror, is flying +from Jennie, who, with face distorted with +passion, is darting after her—flourishing a +big stick, and yelling like a mad girl.</p> + +<p>Betty's heart sinks at the sight. How +shameful, how humiliating that her sisters +should behave like this! How untaught +and untrained they are!</p> + +<p>She runs out breathlessly. She seizes +Jennie by the arm. Jennie kicks and +screams furiously.</p> + +<p>"I will whip her, I will! She's a bad, +wicked girl. She said she would stand still +if I would let go of her arm, and then she +ran away!"</p> + +<p>"'Cos she was going to put a big strap +in my mouth, and drive me about," sobs +Pollie, "and I won't have it, I won't!" +and, relying on Betty's protection, she +strikes at her sister in her turn.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 348px;"> +<img src="images/i107.png" width="348" height="600" alt="Pollie flying from Jennie." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Pollie flying from Jennie.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Pollie! Jennie! Oh, how can you +behave so badly? You rude, naughty +girls! Why, you're every bit as bad as +the rough boys who play in the street.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +Aren't you ashamed to behave so wickedly? +Don't you know that the Lord is very sorry +when He sees little girls selfish, and rude, +and passionate? You know quite well that +poor mother's head is bad, and yet you +make all this noise! Why don't you try +to play quietly together?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing to play at," answers Jennie, +sulkily. "I'm tired of games; and, besides, +games are silly."</p> + +<p>"Then take your knitting, or hem one of +the new dusters."</p> + +<p>"Shan't; it's holiday time, and I don't +mean to do any work. If Pollie wasn't so +silly I could play with her all right—screaming +and making all that fuss about +nothing."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you can't keep quiet, I shall +have to put you to bed—now remember."</p> + +<p>But to herself Betty thinks, "Now, what +would be the right thing to do for them? +Teach them better, I suppose; teach them +to be kind and gentle, teach them to be +unselfish, to think less of themselves and +more of others."</p> + +<p>The thought is still with her when she +returns to her household duties. Suddenly +a happy idea strikes her.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I remember how Grannie told me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +that when she was a girl she used to invite +a number of her little school-friends to her +cottage on half-holidays; each girl brought +a small piece of work with her, a tiny petticoat +to sew, a sock to knit, or what not; +and they would sew and chat away happily +for hours, fancying themselves a real sewing +society.</p> + +<p>"The work was not for themselves—Oh, +no! Twice every year all the little garments +were collected and given to the +poorer children of the village. Now, if +these rough, headstrong sisters of mine +would only do that! Is there nothing to +make them follow dear Grannie's example?"</p> + +<p>All the rest of that day Betty is thinking +over her plan, and at night, ere she goes +to rest, she lays the whole matter before +the Lord in very earnest prayer. She is +beginning to understand something at last +of the real strength, and comfort, and light, +which follows all heart-felt prayer.</p> + +<p>Next morning she awakes with the determination +strong within her of commencing +that very day to win her little sisters to +better things.</p> + +<p>The children's summer holidays are just +beginning; now is the time to interest +them, to teach and help them; to put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +higher thoughts into their minds, to give +their hands unselfish work to do.</p> + +<p>It is a hot afternoon, Jennie and Pollie +have been playing together aimlessly, breaking +out now and again into noisy bursts of +passion. They are too tired to play any +more now, and hot and sulky besides.</p> + +<p>Betty calls them to her.</p> + +<p>"Jennie, Pollie, I want to talk to you +about a new way of spending your holiday +afternoons; a really beautiful way. Come +into the garden, and I'll tell you all about +it."</p> + +<p>The "garden" is only a back-yard, with +one dusty tree leaning over the paling, +and a few unhappy-looking flowers. How +different from Grannie's garden, with its +masses of sweet-scented, old-fashioned blossoms; +its pure air and clear sunlight!</p> + +<p>Well, well, Betty must not think of that +just now. At any rate, the air is fresher +here than in the house.</p> + +<p>"Is it a new kind of game? Oh, Betty, +do make haste and tell us!"</p> + +<p>"Listen, girls. Hundreds and hundreds +of years ago there lived a dear, good woman—a +<i>very</i> good woman."</p> + +<p>"What was her name?" demands Pollie.</p> + +<p>"Dorcas. She lived in a little town by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +the seaside, in a country far away. Now +in this town were many poor widows, who +could not afford to buy clothes enough to +keep them warm; and when Dorcas saw +this she set to work, and cut out nice coats, +and stitched away, and I daresay she called +her neighbours in to help her, and very +soon those poor widows had new garments +all round. How grateful, how delighted +they were! They couldn't say enough to +show their thanks."</p> + +<p>"How do you know? Aren't you just +making it up, Betty?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed; we read about Dorcas, and +the poor widows, and their coats, in the +Bible itself. Now, why don't you two girls +invite two or three of your school friends in +one afternoon, and pretend to be Dorcas +and her neighbours? I'll be Dorcas, if you +like, and we'll make little garments for poor +widows and fatherless children, and chat +together, just as Dorcas and her friends +did, hundreds and hundreds of years ago."</p> + +<p>"Who'll be the widows?" asked Jennie, +much interested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, real widows and orphans; just like +those Dorcas worked for. Then, perhaps, +we could have tea out of doors, and I'll +mix some of those nice buns which Grannie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +showed me how to make. We would drink +our tea out of mugs, because, in the days +when Dorcas lived, no one had cups and +saucers."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that would be lovely!" cry the +girls. "Who shall we ask to come, Betty?" +adds Jennie alone.</p> + +<p>"Anyone you like—that is, any nice +girl."</p> + +<p>"Millie and Ida Davis are both nice as +nice. Then there's Flo——"</p> + +<p>"We mustn't have too many at first. +Suppose we each invite one friend? I +choose Minnie White for mine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Minnie White's always so prim +and proper; just because she's an Army +girl; not a bit of fun in her."</p> + +<p>"You're quite wrong, Jennie. Minnie is +as full of real fun as she can be. She +doesn't like rough ways, and senseless +jokes; but I only wish you looked one-half +as happy as she does! Well, dears, choose +the best and most unselfish girls you know; +this is to be a very special kind of meeting, +you see."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course; <i>we</i> don't want any +nasty, horrid girls like Kitty and Lena!"</p> + +<p>"Now, Jennie, do you think that Dorcas +would <i>ever</i> have been put in the Bible, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +she had talked like that about her friends? +Why, girls, you'll spoil the whole thing if +you don't try to be like her! You're going +to copy her, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Course we are!" assents Pollie.</p> + +<p>Betty mixes the cakes that very evening. +She is not a good cook—does not like +cooking, in fact; but somehow she is feeling +very happy.</p> + +<p>"The cakes must be as nice as I can +make them. Ah! I must be sure to take +a peep to-night into that book of father's, +about God's brave Soldiers, in the far-off +days when Dorcas really lived; then I shall +be able to talk about it all to the girls +to-morrow and interest them.</p> + +<p>"If I could only help Jennie and Pollie +to understand; if I could really bring them +nearer to the Lord; Oh, what a happy, +what a truly blessed thing that would be!"</p> + +<p>The next afternoon is hot again, but there +is shade in the dingy garden. A semicircle +of chairs has been arranged, and Jennie +and Pollie, looking unusually clean and +tidy, with sweet-faced Minnie White, and +Millie and Ida Davis, are industriously +stitching away. It is a critical moment, +for "Dorcas," that is, Betty, has just left +them alone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What horrid clumsy stitches you are +putting in that handkerchief, Pollie," cries +Jennie.</p> + +<p>"They're quite as good as yours!" snaps +Pollie.</p> + +<p>"They're not!"</p> + +<p>"They are! I'm sure they are!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, please don't!" pleads little +Minnie White. "Jennie's stitches are the +best, but then Pollie's are quite as good +for her age. And we must all be very loving +and kind, mustn't we? or we shouldn't be +the least bit like Dorcas and her friends."</p> + +<p>Wise Betty to include little Minnie in her +first back-yard meeting!</p> + +<p>"Oh, look, here's Betty, I mean Dorcas, +with the tea! How good the cakes smell—how +thirsty I am! Oh, isn't it just lovely +to have it out here?" cry the girls.</p> + +<p>And Jennie and Pollie clap their hands +too, and are as happy as the rest.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>A QUARREL</h3> + + +<p>"It has been much easier than I thought," +says Betty to herself, a week or two after +her first back-yard meeting. The fourth +has just been held, and the girls have taken +to it wonderfully.</p> + +<p>"Jennie and Pollie are improving +steadily. How blind I have been! They +were naughty and rough just for want of +some interest in life—for the need of something +to do. Jennie has hemmed two little +pinafores already, and Pollie one; and the +other girls have all done well—especially +Minnie White. Ah, Minnie is a darling, a +true Junior Soldier! Her example is just +splendid for my sisters, and I am glad to +see they are getting quite fond of her. +This was a good idea of mine. I must tell +Captain Scott about it. How pleased she +will be! I really am managing much better. +I really am beginning to make home happy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +and nice. What's that? Seven o'clock, +and the accounts not touched yet! Mr. +Duncan does work me hard. Oh, how glad +I shall be when dear father comes home +again! His leg is really getting stronger +now, that's one comfort. What a grand +day it will be when he leaves the hospital!"</p> + +<p>Betty opens the account-books, and sighs +as she looks down the long columns of +figures.</p> + +<p>"I only wish Bob would help me as he +did at first. Where does he spend his +evenings? I must say I do think it selfish +of him to be from home so much, considering +everything. Why, I believe that's his +knock now! Perhaps he means to help me +this evening, after all."</p> + +<p>And she runs to open the door.</p> + +<p>"O Bob, do come and look over the +accounts!" she begins; then, catching sight +of a long black case in his hand, "Why, +Bob, what have you there?"</p> + +<p>"Violin," says Bob, briefly, but with an +air of great importance.</p> + +<p>"A violin! Dear me, what use can that +be to you?"</p> + +<p>"I can learn to play like other people, +I suppose?" answers Bob, tartly. "There, +I haven't time to stand chattering! I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +to try this violin to-night, and let the +fellow it belongs to know if it suits me."</p> + +<p>"Let what fellow know? O Bob, you +surely haven't promised to <i>buy</i> that old +fiddle?"</p> + +<p>"Old fiddle, indeed! Mind your own +business, miss, and leave me to mind mine!"</p> + +<p>"I've enough to do, that's certain; and +I suppose now you don't mean to help me +with the accounts one bit?"</p> + +<p>Bob only replies to this with a kind of +grunt, and turns into the little front parlour, +where the family generally sit now +that the weather has grown so much hotter.</p> + +<p>Betty follows, and sits down wearily to +the account-books. Bob is evidently in an +unreasonable frame of mind. Where did +he get that violin? Has he promised to +pay for it? If so, how will he obtain the +money?</p> + +<p>Meantime, Bob unrolls a sheet of music, +marked, "Exercises for the Violin," props +it upright on the table with the help of a +few books, draws the violin and bow from +the case, and places the instrument in position +under his chin with what he considers +quite a professional air. Then he takes up +the bow and draws it lightly across the +strings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>A horrible squeak is the result. Bob +looks rather blank; Betty shudders. She +has a keen ear for music, and such a discord +gives her real pain.</p> + +<p>"Out of tune," mutters Bob, and he +screws up one of the little pegs to tighten +the string; then he tries again. Another +squeak, louder and more utterly jarring +than before.</p> + +<p>He repeats this process several times. +Betty is tired and worried; she endures in +silence for awhile, but suddenly her patience +gives way altogether.</p> + +<p>"Bob, what <i>are</i> you trying to do?" she +cries sharply.</p> + +<p>"I am tuning the violin; can't you +hear?"</p> + +<p>"Tuning! Why, you make a more +abominable noise every time you touch it. +What could have induced you to bring +that wretched thing into the house?"</p> + +<p>"That's it, abuse a thing you don't +understand! It's a very good violin, only +the strings are a bit worn. Of course, if +I decide to have it, I shall get new ones."</p> + +<p>"Worn—I should think they are! Look +here, Bob, you don't mean to tell me that +you're really going to buy that old thing?"</p> + +<p>"I told you before, that is none of your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +business. If I choose to buy it, I shall, so +don't give advice when it isn't wanted."</p> + +<p>"But it <i>is</i> my business!" cries Betty, +now thoroughly roused. "Who is to pay +for it, I should like to know? Haven't I +to work for the money to live on?—am I +not trying to work for it now? And instead +of helping me, as you ought, you make my +head whirl round with that horrid old +fiddle!"</p> + +<p>Bob jumps up in a fury, and flings the +violin into its case. "So this is the way +a fellow is treated when he comes home to +practise! It'll be long enough before I +trouble you again, my lady, I can tell you! +I've plenty of friends who understand music +rather better than you do, and they tell me +that I ought to learn, and would soon play +very well. You used to say you wanted me +to learn yourself. Now I see just how +much your words are worth!"</p> + +<p>And he closes the case with a loud snap, +and flings out of the room.</p> + +<p>In a moment Betty realises what she has +done. She flies after him.</p> + +<p>"Bob—Bob—stay one minute—I——"</p> + +<p>The street door closes with a bang. Bob +has gone.</p> + +<p>Betty stands there, her head in a whirl.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +How did the miserable quarrel arise? Just +after she had been feeling so happy about +her success with the girls, too. Oh, what +a wretched, wretched ending to the day!</p> + +<p>Tired though she is, Betty cannot go to +bed until Bob comes home. At last she +hears his step, and flies to the door.</p> + +<p>"O Bob, I didn't mean——" she begins +eagerly, directly she sees him. But he +pushes past her without a word, and, +running upstairs, shuts himself in his own +room.</p> + +<p>Betty goes to her own room, too; but +not to sleep. What can she do to make +Bob understand how sorry she is for her +hasty words, how much she wants to help +him, how dearly she longs to win his +confidence?</p> + +<p>She goes over the brief scene between +them, sentence by sentence, as nearly as +she can remember it.</p> + +<p>"Bob was certainly overbearing and unreasonable," +she thinks, her anger reviving +a little as she recalls his words. "Oh, but +it was my place to help him to be better. +I have promised to be the Lord's Soldier. +I should have been wiser and stronger than +he—and I wasn't, not one bit! I lost my +temper. I made no effort to check myself."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> + +<p>These are sad thoughts for poor Betty; +but it is often through just such a sense +of failure and shortcoming, through just +such self-reproaches as hers to-night, that +the Lord renews our strength. No spiritual +blessing is so full of power as that which +follows a time of humiliation. In distrusting +ourselves we learn to put a more perfect +trust in Him.</p> + +<p>Bob still wears an air of deep injury at +breakfast next morning. He answers all +Betty's rather timid remarks with "Yes" +or "No," and seems even to take trouble +to show that all confidence between them is +at an end.</p> + +<p>Sick at heart, Betty starts out on her +weary round of rent-collecting. Her sorrow +is heavy upon her, and she walks with +drooping head and unheeding eyes.</p> + +<p>"Bob is wrong to bear malice like this," +she thinks. "If he won't listen to anything +I have to say, how can I ever make +things right between us again? Would it +be right for me to go and ask his pardon? +It is plain that unless I do something he +means to have a grievance against me. Oh, +dear, I just feel no heart for my work or +anything while things are like this! Lord, +do lift the burden, do show me what to do!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +Do help me to put a stop to the mischief +my foolish words have caused."</p> + +<p>"The Captain!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly turning a corner, Betty's eyes +fall upon a little group gathered round a +doorstep not twenty yards away.</p> + +<p>Three or four shabby little children and +Captain Janet Scott. The Captain talking +to them, with all that tenderness and loving +sympathy that they have never had from +their own mothers, poor mites, and for +which their baby hearts are craving; the +children looking up into her face with eager +eyes.</p> + +<p>The Captain! Just an accidental meeting +in a dull and dirty street; but to Betty it +is as though the Lord had sent one of His +own bright angel-messengers straight from +Heaven to help her!</p> + +<p>She runs towards her eagerly; the Captain +looks up, and turns to greet her young +friend with a welcoming smile.</p> + +<p>"Betty Langdale! My dear, I have been +hoping every day to meet you."</p> + +<p>"O Captain, I am so miserable! I've +been so foolish, so wicked; I've made a +dreadful mistake, and I don't know how to +put it right. Do, <i>do</i> tell me what I ought +to do!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>Captain Scott takes the girl's trembling +hand, and looks attentively at her pale face +and the dark rings under her eyes. Then +she kisses the shabby little children all +round, promising to come again soon, and, +turning again to Betty, slips her hand +through the girl's arm, and begins to walk +slowly up the street.</p> + +<p>"Tell me your trouble, dear. Perhaps it +is not so bad as you suppose," she says, +gently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it is!" and Betty pours out +the sad little story of her quarrel and its +consequences. She does not spare herself; +as nearly as she can recollect she repeats +her exact words.</p> + +<p>"You have been to the Lord about this, +Betty?" asks the Captain, gravely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I've prayed and prayed, and +sometimes it seems as though I ought to +beg Bob's pardon; but then, you know, he +should <i>not</i> buy a violin just now, no matter +how cheap it is—we can't afford <i>anything</i>, +and he was wrong to worry me when I was +doing the accounts, wasn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly he seems to have acted rather +selfishly and unreasonably. But, Betty, you +must remember that he does not know this. +If you really mean to help your brother,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +you will have to teach him to understand +many things that are dark to him now. +Then, too, dear, you must learn to put +yourself in his place. He had evidently +been dwelling a good deal on the thought +that you would think it very clever of him +to learn the violin. Boy-like, he had most +likely forgotten the family troubles for the +moment, and was trying to 'show off' +before you. You had once said you wished +him to learn, and no doubt he now thinks +you very unkind and changeable because +you discourage him."</p> + +<p>"But, Captain, just think—father in the +hospital, all the accounts and rent-collecting +to do, no money scarcely——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, but Bob has not thought of +all that. He has never heard the Lord's +voice calling him. He lives in a world of +his own. You must learn to get into his +world, to read his thoughts, to make him +feel that in you he has a real friend. Step +by step, dear, you must lead him to his +Saviour."</p> + +<p>"But he won't listen. He'll hardly +answer when I speak!"</p> + +<p>"My dear, it is that very barrier between +you which you must find a way to break +down."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Captain! how? How <i>can</i> I make +Bob understand that I want to help him?" +asks Betty almost despairingly.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you could show some interest +in his music. Do you play at all yourself?"</p> + +<p>"The piano—just a little."</p> + +<p>"And, evidently, you have a good ear. +Couldn't you offer to show him how to get +his violin in tune?"</p> + +<p>Betty shakes her head. "I'm afraid he's +much too vexed to let me try. Oh, wait! +I've thought of something. Couldn't I buy +him a new violin-string? I believe one +snapped just before we had that wretched +quarrel. It would only cost a few pence, I +should think."</p> + +<p>"Well, my child, I must leave all that +to you. Do what you can to make up for +your share in the dispute; only be sure to +show Bob that he must not act selfishly; +that he certainly ought to deny himself +any amusement, however good in itself it +may be, that would take money which is +needed at home.</p> + +<p>"Speak quietly to him, dear. Remember +the Lord's words: '<i>If thy brother shall trespass +against thee, go and tell him his fault +between thee and him alone; if he shall hear +thee, thou hast gained thy brother.</i>'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah! Betty, this is your first real attempt +to lead some one you love to think of higher +things. God grant you may become a real +soul-winner one day!</p> + +<p>"Be very prayerful, very loving, very +wise. Use all the faculties the Lord has +given you, give your whole self to His +service, and trust Him! God bless you! +I shall pray for you and for your brother +too," and Captain Janet clasps Betty's hand +warmly and leaves her.</p> + +<p>What a change the Captain's words have +wrought in Betty's thoughts! She is no +longer conscious of a heavy burden, for all +her heart is filled with courage and eager +hopefulness.</p> + +<p>A soul-winner! Does Captain really +think she may be that one day? Oh, how +beautiful—how wonderful! A flood of joy, +pure and sweet, rushes over her heart at +the thought. Never, even with dear +Grannie, even among the breezy moors, +and blue hills, and clear skies of Grannie's +home, has she felt a delight so intense. It +is, indeed, as though she had caught a +glimpse of Heaven.</p> + +<p>Ah! what does it matter though she does +live in a dull, city street; though her days +must be spent in common-place work? It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +is the Lord alone who can give true happiness, +and to none who serve Him in spirit +and in truth does He deny His gift.</p> + +<p>"Bob, is this the right kind of string? +You wanted a new one, I know. The +woman at the shop said it would most likely +be the E string that required renewing."</p> + +<p>Bob, taken completely off his guard, looks +up eagerly from his tea and bread and +butter. "Yes, that's it; that's just what +I——" He stops short, suddenly remembering +his determination never to speak of +his violin to Betty again.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> right? Now I call that fortunate," +goes on Betty, quietly. "I expect you know +how to put it in, don't you, Bob?"</p> + +<p>Bob melts still further at this. "Oh, +yes; Mr. Wright, one of the teachers at +my school, showed me how to put strings +in. It's easy enough."</p> + +<p>"Ah! but I've heard father say that it's +very difficult to get a violin in tune after +fitting in a new string."</p> + +<p>Bob's face clouds over again; but Betty +hastens to add, "Couldn't I help you a bit +with the tuning? Couldn't I sound the +notes on the piano while you screwed up +the string—surely, that is the way people +generally do tune violins?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; but——"</p> + +<p>"But what, Bob, dear?"</p> + +<p>"You've got those accounts to do, or +something."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've done for to-day. Come, I shall +enjoy it, not the music, just yet, perhaps, +but I should enjoy helping you, Bob."</p> + +<p>Bob makes no answer to this; but +directly tea is finished he runs upstairs for +the violin-case, and the brother and sister +are soon seated together before the shabby +little piano.</p> + +<p>For the next half-hour there is little +heard between them, save—"Too sharp, +Bob." "A little lower still." "I say, +Betty, give us the octave of that note," +and so on. At last the instrument is really +in tune, and then the pair try an exercise +together, with fairly good results. Bob is +delighted.</p> + +<p>"Why, Betty, this is first-class! Mr. +Wright said I ought to get some one to +play with me."</p> + +<p>"I should just love to do it, Bob."</p> + +<p>There is a long pause. Betty feels she +ought to say something more, but doesn't +know how to begin.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 355px;"> +<img src="images/i129.png" width="355" height="600" alt=""A little lower still."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"A little lower still."</span> +</div> + +<p>"I say, Betty"—Bob is speaking in +quite a different tone of voice now—"I say,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +you didn't really think I meant to <i>buy</i> the +violin, did you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Bob, didn't you say so?"</p> + +<p>"No; I said I'd take it if it suited me. +Charlie Wright—my teacher's boy, you +know—wanted to change it away for my +old camera."</p> + +<p>"O Bob, I'm so glad—so very, very +glad. Oh, why didn't you tell me before?"</p> + +<p>"I meant to; but you took a fellow up so."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I see just how it all happened. +You must remember that I feel so anxious +about every penny while father is away, +and, Bob, I do want us all to think for +one another, and—and"—Betty makes a +great effort—"and try to live just as the +Lord would have us live, Bob."</p> + +<p>Dead silence. Betty's heart beats rapidly. +Then come the most unexpected words she +has ever heard in her life.</p> + +<p>"You <i>do</i> try."</p> + +<p>"Bob! O Bob, don't say that. I don't +deserve it!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do, Betty. Do you think I +haven't seen you trying? Come, come, old +girl, don't cry."</p> + +<p>"No—no, Bob; only I'm so happy. +I——" Betty cannot trust her voice just +now to pronounce another word.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>FATHER AT HOME</h3> + + +<p>"Father coming home?" cries Betty, as +Mrs. Langdale folds up the letter, from +which she has just read an extract, "O +mother, how beautiful, coming home the +day after to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"How jolly!" shouts Bob. "Three cheers +for father!" "Jolly, jolly, three cheers!" +echo the younger children; and mother +says:—</p> + +<p>"Well, it <i>is</i> good news. Such a dreadful +time it has been. I declare I've not felt +quite myself one single minute since he +went away. And, then, the money, too; +not that he'll be well enough to go on with +his work for months to come."</p> + +<p>To Betty, however, the one joyful fact is +enough.</p> + +<p>"But to have father home again! It +seems almost years since that night when +he lay on the couch, so white and still. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +say, mother, do let us give him a real +welcome home—do let us make him see +how glad we all are!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Betty, what a girl you are! You +really should think before you speak. You +know very well that we haven't a penny to +spend on anything."</p> + +<p>"Of course, I know. But, mother, that +isn't what I mean. Couldn't we <i>do</i> something? +For instance, I'm sure dear father +likes to see things neat and nice. Couldn't +we have a real big, spring-clean all over +the house?"</p> + +<p>"A 'spring' clean in summer, you silly +child!"</p> + +<p>"Well, you know what I mean. Let's +have the curtains down, and the carpets up, +and polish the furniture all over."</p> + +<p>"That's a jolly good idea of yours, +Betty," cries Bob, enthusiastically. "And +I tell you what, you've helped me ever so +much lately, now I'll just turn round and +help <i>you</i>. I'm off to get the small pincers +from father's tool chest. Won't I have the +carpets up in no time! If we all work +together we shall soon get the job done."</p> + +<p>Betty gives her brother a grateful look, +but mother says:—</p> + +<p>"I don't think your father will care a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +bit whether the house is tidy or not. He +has never said a word to me about the place +all the years we've lived here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but think! Coming straight from +the hospital. We must make everything +bright and cheerful. Poor father! Mother, +do you feel well enough to wash and iron +the curtains?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll do them; and Clara must clean +the windows. But, really, I don't see the +use of all this fuss and upset."</p> + +<p>"I'll wash all the ornaments and clean +the pictures," says quiet Lucy.</p> + +<p>"O Betty, may we darn up the holes in +the chair-covers?" cry Jennie and Pollie, +mindful of their work as Dorcas and her +neighbours.</p> + +<p>"I'll black everybody's boots," volunteers +Harry. There is a general laugh at this, +but Bob calls out that he needs Harry's +help with the stair-carpets immediately.</p> + +<p>So Betty has a houseful of volunteer +helpers, and pretty difficult she finds it to +manage them all. But she is blessed with +a clear head, and, as every one is working +for love, and really tries to do his or her +best, a great deal of work is got through +in the course of the day.</p> + +<p>Clara comes out splendidly. "Master<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +coming home? O miss, that <i>is</i> news! +Brighten up the house? I should think +we would brighten it up, just as neat as a +new pin all over."</p> + +<p>What a topsy-turvy house it is all the +rest of the day! Bob and Harry beating +carpets in the back-yard as though their +lives depended on it; Lucy perpetually +polishing glass, and washing china. Jennie +and Pollie busy with their needles; mother +ironing in the kitchen; Clara sweeping, +scrubbing, and black-leading; Betty all +over the house, encouraging, directing, and +doing a bit of everything by turns.</p> + +<p>Bread and cheese for dinner, and a cup +of tea at tea-time, taken in the stuffy little +kitchen. Yet not a single grumble from +any one—even from Bob, who <i>is</i> a trifle +particular about his meals, as a general +rule!</p> + +<p>How utterly tired out Betty is when at +last she gets to bed! Tired out, but happier +in her home than perhaps she has ever been +before. Bustle, confusion, dust, hard work, +yes; but brothers and sisters all helping +each other, all working together, all eagerly +looking forward to seeing dear father.</p> + +<p>The same thing goes on all the next day, +but now the confusion is fast changing into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +order, and when the following morning +arrives—the morning of the eventful day +that is to see father's return—the house is +cleaner and fresher than Betty ever remembers +to have seen it.</p> + +<p>It is four o'clock in the afternoon. Bob, +his hands in his pockets, is going from room +to room, surveying his share in the work +with great pride. Lucy is arranging a few +cheap flowers in a glass, the children are +all on tiptoe with excitement. Betty has +gone to the hospital to fetch father home!</p> + +<p>"There they are, mother. Quick, here's +father!"</p> + +<p>Father; crutches under his arms, one foot +held away from the ground by a long sling +passing over his shoulders; but father, for +all that; his eyes shining with love, as his +noisy boys and girls rush towards him, +followed by Mrs. Langdale.</p> + +<p>"Gently, gently, young folks, or you'll +tumble father right over."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's good to be at home again. +Why, mother, how cosy everything looks. +One needs to be away from home for a time, +I suppose, just to find out how good it is!"</p> + +<p>"It was all Betty's doing," cries Bob. +"We all worked at the cleaning-up, but she +started it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>Father sinks into the low couch. His +leg is still very stiff and painful; but he +smiles happily, and gazes all round with +such a contented look in his kind eyes that +even Mrs. Langdale is struck with it.</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare, I do believe you were +right after all. Your father does seem +quite pleased with everything, and I +thought he never noticed how the house +looked at all!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>LUCY</h3> + + +<p>For some days after father's return Betty +has eyes and ears for scarcely anyone else. +To see his dear face, to listen to his dear +voice, is such a true delight to her!</p> + +<p>Then, too, his presence relieves her from +a great responsibility. True, he is much +too lame, as yet, to collect the rents, or to +call on Mr. Duncan; but he takes all those +tiresome accounts off her hands at once. It +is as though an actual weight had been +lifted from her shoulders, for she has felt +the anxiety of keeping Mr. Duncan's books +a heavy burden indeed.</p> + +<p>But though Betty is deeply thankful to +be rid of it all, she is beginning to realise +how good this responsibility has been for her.</p> + +<p>"I used to make such a fuss over little +things," she thinks. "Why, I was quite +upset if the girls came in with torn frocks, +and dirty faces, or Clara did not clean the +kitchen properly; worse still, I used to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +behave quite rudely to mother if she forgot +to arrange the dinner in good time, or made +me close a window when I thought it ought +to be open. How irritable, how unreasonable +I was! How hasty and inconsiderate!</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes. I see now that God <i>had</i> to +send me all these worries; I couldn't learn +how to bear little troubles, until I had been +through big ones. Dear Captain said that +in a happy home every one had his or her +true place. It was certainly never my place +to speak to mother as I used to do.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe mother has really loved +me better than I deserved. Poor mother! +Her life is much duller than mine; she has +never had such a friend as my dear Captain +Scott; she has never been in the country +to stay with darling Grannie; she has just +lived on at home, year after year.</p> + +<p>"Why, it wasn't until I spent that lovely +time with Grannie that I saw how much +nicer things could be made here, and now +I really believe they <i>are</i> nicer. I'm sure +every one seems more cheerful lately. +Jennie and Pollie have greatly improved; +I'm so thankful to see that they have really +taken little Minnie White as a close friend; +she is a true Army Junior, and will do them +a world of good.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Harry doesn't seem <i>quite</i> so rough, and +as for Bob, well, he's a perfect dear about +those violin exercises now. I'm sure that +half-hour we have together over the piano +is one of the sweetest in the whole day; +and, really, 'Exercise No. 4' is beginning +to sound quite pretty.</p> + +<p>"The only person in the house I can't +altogether make out is Lucy; she certainly +isn't all a sister should be, somehow. She +does her share of the work, I suppose; but +I declare I know more of Bob's thoughts +than I do of hers—she lives in a perfect +world of her own.</p> + +<p>"She reads too much; I never knew such +a girl for reading—always over some book +or other. I mean to speak to her pretty +plainly about that, directly I get an opportunity."</p> + +<p>Alas! opportunities for speaking "pretty +plainly" come only too easily.</p> + +<p>The next day is washing day. Clara +Jones's mother comes in to help; mother +spends the whole day in the kitchen, and, +of course, Betty has plenty to do.</p> + +<p>By dint of almost superhuman exertions, +Betty manages to inspire Clara and her +mother with a desire to get the work cleared +up before tea, instead of dawdling over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +tubs until late into the evening. Her efforts +are successful; by half-past four they have +actually finished, and Betty looks forward +to a rest, and cup of tea. She will ask +Lucy to make it directly.</p> + +<p>"Lucy!" she calls. No answer. "Where +can that girl be? 'Lucy!' She must come—she +ought to come; this is really too +bad!"</p> + +<p>She runs upstairs, still calling, "Lucy, +Lucy!" She peeps into every room; there +is no Lucy to be found.</p> + +<p>At last a thought strikes her. "Surely +she hasn't hidden herself away to read in +the attic?" Betty's anger rises. Lucy is +in the attic, sitting all huddled up in a +chair, poring intently over a book; books, +and pen and ink, on the floor beside her.</p> + +<p>"Lucy, what on earth are you doing +here? And to-day, of all days! I've been +searching the whole house to find you; we +all want our tea, and you are calmly +amusing yourself with a book!"</p> + +<p>"Tea? It isn't tea-time yet, is it?" +stammers Lucy, her pale face flushing painfully +red, as she pushes her book out of +Betty's sight.</p> + +<p>"You know I always like tea early on +washing-day," cries Betty, still more sharply,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +"and I must say, I do think it most selfish +and thoughtless of you to go away by yourself +like this, when we are all up to our +eyes in work!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know; I thought the washing +was finished," says poor Lucy, her lip +beginning to quiver.</p> + +<p>"That's nothing to do with it; we're all +tired and want our tea; but you never gave +that a thought; all you seem to care for is +to get away by yourself to read some silly +story-book. Such shocking waste of time! +Such unsociable behaviour! I only hope +you are not reading novels. I am sure it +looks as though you come up here sometimes +because you are afraid to let father +and mother know what you are doing!"</p> + +<p>Lucy's head droops lower still, but she +makes no answer.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, <i>is</i> it a novel?"</p> + +<p>"No-o."</p> + +<p>"Then let me see it at once."</p> + +<p>"Betty, I'd rather you didn't; that is, not +just now; some other day, perhaps——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it doesn't make any difference; +whatever it is, you've no business to waste +your time in this way. Do, for goodness' +sake, leave books alone for a while, and +attend to your work!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>That night Betty goes to sleep with an +uneasy sense that the day has not been +altogether well spent, in spite of the success +of her washing schemes.</p> + +<p>Awakening, some hours later, with this +uncomfortable feeling strong upon her, she +begins to ask herself what has been wrong? +Conscience soon tells her that she has been +unkind to her sister.</p> + +<p>"I <i>did</i> speak sharply, and I certainly felt +very vexed; but, then, it was aggravating, +and there is really too much to do in our +house for that sort of thing.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I know that Lucy is not so +old, or so strong, as I am; but she should +have remembered how much I like an early +cup of tea on washing-day, and——. What +was that? Lucy, did you speak?"</p> + +<p>Betty breaks off her meditations hastily, +and raises herself on her elbow. Is Lucy +asleep on the pillow beside her—surely, she +spoke just now?</p> + +<p>She is speaking, or, rather, muttering, in +her sleep. How strange! Can she be ill?</p> + +<p>Then Betty remembers, with a faint thrill +of alarm, that Lucy ate neither tea nor +supper; and, when mother asked the reason, +she said her head ached.</p> + +<p>For a long while she lies awake, listening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +to her sister's uneasy whisperings. "Oh," +she thinks, "why was I so unkind to her—suppose +she should be really ill?"</p> + +<p>Lucy is really ill. After a troubled night +of feverish dreaming, she awakes to a consciousness +of great pain and stiffness in all +her limbs. A doctor is sent for; her parents' +worst fears are realised, Lucy is stricken +down with rheumatic fever.</p> + +<p>She is very quiet and patient, and tries +hard not to complain. Her mother nurses +her, relieved by Betty now and then.</p> + +<p>Love has taught Mrs. Langdale to be a +good nurse; love makes her forget her own +small illnesses and worries, and think only +of her poor little daughter's suffering.</p> + +<p>The remembrance of her unkind words +gives Betty bitter pain. Lucy was ill when +she scolded her. Oh, if she had known!</p> + +<p>After a while, as Lucy grows better, +Betty begins to excuse herself again. "She +<i>did</i> read too much; I was right in that, +and reading is waste of time—only I wish +I hadn't been so cross with her."</p> + +<p>Slowly the pain grows less, slowly the +fever cools; but, alas! for poor Lucy, the +doctor says he fears that this illness will +leave lasting bad effects behind it; that, +though she will soon be fairly well, she will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +never be quite as strong again as she has +been.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, Betty is sitting with her +sister, while Mrs. Langdale rests. Lucy has +just finished her basin of bread and milk, +and Betty thinks she is asleep, until she +hears her sigh softly to herself, and then +make a restless movement on her pillow.</p> + +<p>Betty is at her side in an instant.</p> + +<p>"Do you want anything, Lucy?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Betty," she says, in +her weak, patient voice. But Betty sees +that two large tears are rolling down her +cheeks.</p> + +<p>"O Lucy, you mustn't fret, that's ever +so bad for you, and, besides, you're getting +well so fast. Shall I read to you? You +were very interested in some book just +before you were taken ill—tell me where to +find it."</p> + +<p>"No, no, Betty, not that book; it's of—no—use—now." +Lucy's lips quiver so +painfully, that she can hardly pronounce +the words, and she buries her face in her +pillow.</p> + +<p>"Lucy, don't! Oh, please, don't! I +was horrid to you that day, and I've been +sorry ever since. Do let me read, if it's +only to make up a little."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 356px;"> +<img src="images/i145.png" width="356" height="600" alt="Her arm around her sister's neck." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Her arm around her sister's neck.</span> +</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But, Betty, it's of no use. I can never, +never, never do it now. I heard the doctor +tell mother this morning that I should +always have to be careful, or I should be +just as bad again, and—and—it's only +really strong people who can do—what I +wanted to do." Lucy's voice dies away +into such a faint whisper that her sister can +only just catch the last words.</p> + +<p>"Do what?" asks Betty, in great surprise. +Then, suddenly, an idea strikes her. +"Ah! Lucy, were you studying for something +all the time—not just reading to +amuse yourself—were you learning about +some work you wished to do?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Betty."</p> + +<p>"And all these months I have never +thought of that. Oh, what was it? Come, +tell me, Lucy, dear."</p> + +<p>"I—I wanted to go to the poor heathen +women in India, some day, you know. I +had read how they suffered, and—and it +seemed that God was telling me to go. So +I got all the books I could about India—to +be ready when the time came—and I read, +and read, and even began to learn their +language."</p> + +<p>"Why, Lucy, how <i>could</i> you do that?" +exclaims Betty, in the greatest astonishment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My music teacher's elder sister came +home from India a little while ago, and she +told me what books to get from the Library."</p> + +<p>"And you did all this, and I never +guessed. How stupid—how blind I have +been!"</p> + +<p>"No—no, Betty. I ought to have confided +in you; but, somehow, I couldn't +speak of it. I felt it too much, and now it +is all at an end," and her sobs break out +afresh.</p> + +<p>But Betty leans over the bed, and lovingly +draws her arm around her sister's neck.</p> + +<p>"O Lucy, I feel that you forgive me for +my unkindness, but I cannot forgive myself. +When shall I get out of the habit of judging +too hastily? I can see quite well now that +you couldn't tell me your plans, because I +was always so full of my own affairs."</p> + +<p>"Betty, Betty, that wasn't the reason. +You work so hard for all of us—how could +I bother you with my hopes and fears?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Lucy! I never met anyone with so +much to do, or so many folks to care for +as my dear Captain. Yet no one thinks +<i>her</i> too busy to listen to their troubles. I +must learn to be more like her—to empty +my heart of self—then, dear, you will never +hesitate to tell me everything."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>COMRADES</h3> + + +<p>"Clara, what <i>is</i> the matter with you? +You seem to be always fretting about something +lately. Now I really must know. Is +there anything wrong at your home?"</p> + +<p>"No—o," comes in muffled tones from +Clara. She has her head turned away, and +takes care Betty shall not catch a glimpse +of her face.</p> + +<p>Betty steps quickly across the kitchen, +and lays a hand on the girl's shoulder. It +quivers under her touch; yes, Clara is +certainly crying.</p> + +<p>"Clara, you must tell me what it is. I +can't have you going about the house with +this miserable face—just when you were +beginning to get on so much better, too."</p> + +<p>"Beginning to get on better! O miss +that's just where it is!" cries Clara, with +a sudden burst of tears. "I <i>can't</i> get on +better. I try and try, and make no end of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +good resolutions—cart-loads of them—and +then I go and break them all again directly. +Seems as though my head was no better +than a sieve—I can't remember; it's of no +use—Oh, Oh, Oh!"</p> + +<p>"Clara, Clara, don't, there's a dear girl. +And you have been doing better—ever so +much; father was saying so to me only +yesterday."</p> + +<p>"But you don't know how hard it is—you +don't know how dreadfully I forget; +and then I think, 'Oh, what's the use of +trying? I'd far better give it all up, and +just muddle along as I used to do.'"</p> + +<p>But Betty thinks, "Ah, that's just how +it used to be with me, before I went to +Grannie's, before I went to The Army +Meetings near Grannie's home, and gave +my heart to God. I have felt like that +sometimes since; but only for a little while, +for the Lord has always helped me through +the bad times. It is only the Lord who <i>can</i> +help us through. I ought to tell Clara that—I +<i>must</i> tell her!"</p> + +<p>There is a moment's pause. Betty is +nervous, and doesn't know how to begin. +She makes an effort.</p> + +<p>"Clara," she says softly. "Clara, have +you ever tried to understand those words<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +in the Bible, '<i>Thou wilt keep him in +perfect peace whose mind is stayed on +Thee</i>'?"</p> + +<p>Clara looks up suddenly; her eyes round +with wonder. "Why, Miss Betty, whatever +do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Betty makes a greater effort. "I used to +feel as you do," she says. "I used to find +I couldn't keep the good resolutions I made; +I used to fall into dreadful fits of hopelessness, +of wanting to give up trying any +more; and then I went to Grannie's—my +Grannie is a Salvationist, you know—and +she took me to The Army Meetings. And +one night, all of a sudden, I saw quite +clearly how wrong I had been. I had been +trying to live a good life, trusting in my +own strength; and no one can do that. It +is only by coming to the Lord Jesus that +we can be truly good; for it is only Jesus +who can wash our sins away, and change +our hearts, and make us like Himself."</p> + +<p>There is another silence. Clara has taken +up a corner of her apron, and is picking at +it industriously.</p> + +<p>"You think, miss," she says, nervously, +after a while, "that—that if I went to The +Army Meetings I might find it easier to do +right?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm quite sure of it, Clara! O Clara, +pray for a changed heart, ask for it, claim +it! With the Lord for your Saviour, you'll +soon conquer all the little difficulties that +distress you now." Betty is nervous no +longer. She has broken the ice and her +words flow freely.</p> + +<p>"And, Clara, salvation gives you such +a lovely kind of happiness—I can't explain +it—but very often you'll feel just the +happiest girl in the whole world. How +can people help being happy when they +know they are on the Lord's side, when +they know that He saves them, and loves +them, and will take them to live with Him +at last?</p> + +<p>"There—there, I must go now, Lucy +needs her dinner; but, Oh! Clara, do +think of what I've said; do pray about it; +do ask the Lord to show you what to do."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"She—she knows <i>you</i>, miss," says Clara +softly.</p> + +<p>Betty looks up from the toast she is +making for Lucy's tea. Some time has +passed, and Lucy is almost well again, but +Betty insists on waiting upon her as much +as ever.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who knows me?" she asks. "What +are you talking about, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"The—the Captain," answers Clara, +shyly. A light breaks over Betty's mind.</p> + +<p>"You mean my dear Captain! I'm so +glad—so very glad—and so you're going to +the Meetings regularly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss."</p> + +<p>"Isn't Captain Scott sweet; isn't she +just like one of the Lord's own angel +messengers!" cries Betty enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss."</p> + +<p>"And she's helped you already, Clara; +you're feeling ever so much happier—I can +tell that by your voice."</p> + +<p>Clara turns slowly round, and points to +an Army shield of silver, showing white +against her dark dress. What a changed +Clara! The tousled hair is smooth enough +now under the neat cap, the dress is tidy, +the apron clean. But it is not at hair or at +dress that Betty is looking, not even at the +shield-brooch. No, it is on the smiling face +that Betty fixes her eyes.</p> + +<p>For the old, sullen, discontented expression +has gone, and the plain little face is +so bright with joy and triumph that it is +sweet to look upon.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 362px;"> +<img src="images/i153.png" width="362" height="600" alt="What a changed Clara!" title="" /> +<span class="caption">What a changed Clara!</span> +</div> + +<p>"Clara!" she cries, and drops the toast,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +and throws her arms round the little servant's +neck. "So we're both Soldiers now—we're +comrades," she whispers. "Ah, +you know now just the difference salvation +can make—don't you, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, miss indeed I do!"</p> + +<p>"God bless you, Clara!"</p> + +<p>"God bless you, miss! it was all through +you," whispers Clara, shyly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>BETTY'S BIRTHDAY ONCE MORE</h3> + + +<p>Betty's birthday has come round once +more.</p> + +<p>Autumn and winter have passed since +Lucy's illness, and Clara's conversion. Save +for a slight limp, father's knee is well +again, and Bob's progress with his music is +quite wonderful. But the most wonderful +thing that has taken place in the whole +year, is the change in Betty herself. She +<i>was</i> one of the most discontented girls to be +found anywhere, now she is one of the +happiest.</p> + +<p>Directly she wakes up this morning she +sees that her room is full of bright spring +sunshine, and straightway begins planning +a little treat for her brothers and sisters.</p> + +<p>"Jennie and Pollie have a half-holiday +to-day. How fortunate! We'll all go out +together this afternoon. A walk in the park +among the spring flowers would be just the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +thing for Lucy. If I could only get mother +to come too——"</p> + +<p>"Many happy returns of your birthday, +my dear, dear Betty!" Lucy's arms are +suddenly flung round her neck, Lucy's lips +pressed to her cheek. Her birthday! In +her planning for other people's pleasure +Betty had actually forgotten the day +altogether.</p> + +<p>It is delightful that Lucy has remembered +it, though; and with a little laugh of genuine +joy Betty returns her sister's kiss, and then +devotes herself to the business of dressing.</p> + +<p>Betty rather makes a point of being the +first downstairs in the morning; then she +is sure that father's breakfast is just as he +likes it, and the children's porridge properly +made. But this morning, as she passes +Bob's door, she notices that the room is +empty. Bob up already! Mother's room-door +standing wide. Are they <i>all</i> up before +her? Oh, she must have mistaken the +time! No, seven o'clock is only just +striking. What can it be?</p> + +<p>She hurries downstairs, and now Lucy is +close behind her.</p> + +<p>Yes, they <i>are</i> all up. The sitting-room +is full of people. Father, mother, Bob, +Harry, Jennie, Pollie, even Clara! For<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +one instant Betty stares at them in utter +bewilderment, and then they all make a +rush at her, and she understands.</p> + +<p>"Many happy returns of the day! Many +happy returns of the day!" and father and +mother are kissing her, and the boys have +hold of her hands, and the younger children +are shouting and dancing wildly about her.</p> + +<p>Surprise and delight quite take Betty's +breath away; indeed it is not until they all +draw back a little, and begin holding up +various pretty gifts, that she can find a +voice to utter a single word. Even then +she can only gasp out:—</p> + +<p>"Father, mother—Oh, to think you should +all remember my birthday like this! I shall +never forget this morning—never!" and +there are tears of love and joy in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> shall never forget how bravely my +lass took over my work while I was laid +up in the hospital," says father, proudly, +as he fills her arms with flowers.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> shall never forget how patiently and +unselfishly my little daughter works in the +home," whispers mother.</p> + +<p>"I'm not the sort of fellow to forget a +good sister when I've got one, I should +hope," says Bob, in his manliest voice. +"Look, Betty, I've got you a little present;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +it isn't half bad, though, is it?" and Bob +pulls out a showy photo-frame for which he +has been saving up his pocket-money for +some months past.</p> + +<p>"Betty, Betty, we've hemmed you four +handkerchiefs—and, Oh, we've had such a +trouble to get them done without letting +you know!" cry Pollie and Jennie. Even +Harry has bought her a bag of chocolates; +and here is poor little Clara, with a pair +of mittens knitted by herself. "Do take +them, miss—please. You said we were +comrades, you know, and your hands do +get so cold sometimes."</p> + +<p>So they surround her with birthday gifts, +and warm, loving looks; and Betty's heart +is full of joy—almost too full to let her +speak.</p> + +<p>Last year Betty thought of little save herself—of +her own woes, her own difficulties, +and her birthday was almost forgotten. +This year she thinks for others, she forgets +herself. Betty—what would they do without +dear Betty? There is no fear that her +birthday will be forgotten any more by any +of them!</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 355px;"> +<img src="images/i159.png" width="355" height="600" alt="Betty thanks Him with a grateful heart." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Betty thanks Him with a grateful heart.</span> +</div> + +<p>Of course, Grannie's letter and parcel +arrive by the next post. Betty manages to +steal away to her room for a few moments<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +to read the letter all alone. After a loving +greeting, Grannie writes:—</p> + +<p>"Last year I was anxious about you, my +Betty; last year I sent you that little story +of the Love-bird, hoping that it might open +your eyes to the power love should be in +the home. I knew that the light had come +into your heart, but I feared that it had not +yet found its way into all the corners and +crooks of your character. You could not +be happy, you could not really help those +at home, whilst one little spot of darkness +remained. No, you could never <i>live</i> the +love we spoke about the morning you left +me, until your heart was all pure love. For, +Betty, my dear, I know well that your life +is full of many trials.</p> + +<p>"And now I am anxious no longer. +With what a thankful heart I write the +words! Yes, now indeed, I see that the +Lord Jesus Christ reigns alone in your +heart; now I know that you are happy, +and making those around you happy also. +Thank the Lord, Betty, for the blessing He +is sending on your work in your home!"</p> + +<p>And Betty does thank Him with a grateful +heart. She feels indeed like the Psalmist, +that her cup runs over with blessings; her +home seems to be now most beautiful.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Betty, what would you like best in all +the world—that is, of all the things I could +give you?" whispers mother that night.</p> + +<p>Betty knows the answer to that question +well enough. "To—to be allowed to go +to The Army Meetings," she says, in a +husky voice, her heart beating thickly.</p> + +<p>"I thought so. Well, father and I have +decided to let you go, if you still really +wish it."</p> + +<p>"You'll let me go? Oh, mother—mother!" +and Betty's hands are tightly +clasped about her mother's neck.</p> + + +<h3>THE END</h3> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<h3>BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</h3> + +<h4>By COMMISSIONER MILDRED DUFF</h4> + + +<p><b>The Life of Jesus.</b> A quarto picture book with a lesson for every +Sunday in the year. 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Paper Boards.</p> + +<p><b>The Don't-Know Family.</b> A Tale for Everybody.</p> + +<p><b>A New Tommy-Don't-Know.</b> A Sequel to above.</p> + +<p><b>Jack and His Friends.</b> A Tale of Cat and Dog Life.</p> + +<p><b>Face it Out; or, Straight Roads are the Shortest.</b> A Story +for Boys.</p> + +<p><b>Crotchets and Quavers; or, The Making of the Brixwell +Young People's Band.</b> A Book for young Band Members.</p> + +<p><b>Betty's Battles.</b> An Everyday Story.</p> + +<p><b>Jabez the Unlucky.</b> A Tale of the Jungle.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p><b>The Little Slave Girl.</b> Told by Mammy Sara herself to the +writer. By <span class="smcap">Eileen Douglas</span>. Paper Boards.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>THE WARRIORS' LIBRARY</h3> + +<div class='center'>Full Cloth, 1s. 6d. Half Cloth, 1s.</div> + + +<blockquote><p>No. 1. <b>Catherine Booth: A Sketch.</b> A brief Life-Story of +The Army Mother. 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By Commissioner <span class="smcap">Duff</span>.</p> + +<p>" 8. <b>The Life and Work of Father Oberlin.</b> The Sanctified +Pastor of Alsace. By Commissioner <span class="smcap">Oliphant</span>.</p> + +<p>" 9. <b>Farmer Abbott.</b> An Old-time Soul-winner. By <span class="smcap">Margaret +Allen</span>.</p> + +<p>" 10. <b>The Warrior's Daily Portion. No. II.</b> A Companion +to No. 4 of this Series. By Brigadier <span class="smcap">Eileen Douglas</span>.</p> + +<p>" 11. <b>Hedwig von Haartman.</b> The Life of our Finnish Pioneer. +By Commissioner <span class="smcap">Duff</span>.</p> + +<p>" 12. <b>Gerhard Tersteegen.</b> The Life of a Singing Soul-winner. +By Commissioner <span class="smcap">Oliphant</span>.</p> + +<p>" 13. <b>Colonel Weerasooriya.</b> The Life of a prominent +Singalese Warrior. By Commissioner <span class="smcap">Booth Tucker</span>.</p> + +<p>" 14. <b>Bernard of Clairvaux.</b> The Abbot with a passion for +God. By <span class="smcap">Margaret Allen.</span></p> + +<p>" 15. <b>Harvests of the East.</b> Bird's-eye Views of Work in +Eastern Lands. By <span class="smcap">Margaret Allen</span>.</p> + +<p>" 16. <b>A Kindled Flame.</b> Story of Hilda—a Princess who gave +herself to God. By <span class="smcap">Margaret Allen</span>.</p> + +<p>" 17. <b>Elizabeth Fry.</b> The Quaker Friend of Prisoners. By +Brigadier <span class="smcap">Eileen Douglas</span>.</p> + +<p>" 18. <b>Children of India.</b> Vividly illustrating Child-life in +India. By <span class="smcap">Harold Begbie</span>.</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class='center'> +Full list with prices on application to<br /> +<br /> + +<b>SALVATIONIST PUBLISHING & SUPPLIES, LIMITED<br /> +117, 119 & 121 Judd Street, King's Cross, London, W.C. 1</b><br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> <p>Obvious +punctuation errors repaired.</p> + +<p>The correction made on page 20 is indicated by dotted lines under +the correction <ins title="Transcriber's Note: Added missing +words 'the bed'">"the bed"</ins>.</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 392px;"> +<img src="images/icover.jpg" width="392" height="600" alt="Cover" title="" /> + +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 137px;"> +<img src="images/ispine.jpg" width="137" height="600" alt="Spine" title="" /> + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Betty's Battles, by S. 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