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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77064 ***







[Illustration: Cover art]



[Frontispiece: Wood Cottage]




  WOOD COTTAGE

  OR

  SHELTERED AT LAST


  _By_

  M. E. DREWSEN

  _Author of "Ben and Kit" "Hazel Glen,"
  "Gracie and Grant," "The Old House," etc._


  PICKERING & INGLIS
  14 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON, E. C. 4
  229 BOTHWELL STREET, GLASGOW, C. 2




  Made and Printed in Great Britain




  CONTENTS.

  Safely Sheltered
  Ben and Kit's New Clothes
  A Prayer in the Wood Shed
  Lambs of the Flock
  Difficulties in the Narrow Path
  Ben's Battle Begins
  Ben's Return
  Schoolboys
  In the Storm
  The Little Red House
  The Sick Man and the Fallen Foe
  What A Little Child can do
  A Visit to the Sea
  A Sunday Evening at the Sea-Side
  Kittie in Trouble
  Ben's Present




WOOD COTTAGE;

OR,

SHELTERED AT LAST.



CHAPTER I.

SAFELY SHELTERED.

It was between nine and ten o'clock in the evening, at the close of a
hot summer's day.

A few hours before there had been plenty of stir and excitement in
the fields around Wood Cottage.  One hundred children belonging to a
Sunday-school in the great city, had been playing and romping about
through the day, and enjoying their yearly treat.

They had been shouting and capering about on the meadows, while the
sun shone bright and sweet breezes blew, and two or three hours
before my story begins they had sung some of their little hymns about
the love of Jesus, and then had started away back to London; back to
the crowded alleys and the dull cheerless streets,--but they carried
with them a happy remembrance of that sunny day spent in the pleasant
fields, where they had sat in long rows upon the grass, and eaten a
plentiful tea of cake and nice bread and butter, while kind ladies
and gentlemen handed them mugs of sweet fresh milk to drink.

A hundred children had started forth in the morning, but only
ninety-eight returned in the evening.  Two of the little ones had
found a new home.

And now the sun had sunk behind a black, heavy cloud which was slowly
coming up in the west, and the breeze which had fanned the faces of
the children, was completely lulled; not a breath of air seemed to be
stirring, and it had grown hot and oppressive; a solemn calm seemed
reigning everywhere.

The little birds had gone to their nests or crept under the bough of
the trees.  The sheep in the meadow adjoining Wood Cottage had
huddled up close together.  The old hen had gathered her chicks very
close under her sheltering wings, and when the first distant roar of
the thunder was heard, mothers came out of their cottage doors and
called in the young urchins who "ought to have been in bed an hour
ago."

Harry Gray and his wife were sitting at their garden door when the
pale lightning flashed across the sky.  Mrs. Gray had her baby on her
knee, for he was restless with the heat, and would not sleep.

"See; there is lightning, Harry," she said.  "There is going to be a
storm.  Oh, how glad I am that our darling Kit is safe beneath our
roof to-night!  You should have seen her, how she snugged down in the
little crib between the clean sheets, and in a few minutes fell
asleep.  I suppose she has not been in so comfortable a bed since she
left me.  Poor lamb; what a life hers must have been!  I cannot bear
to think of it now."

"Yes; thank God little Kit is safe," replied the father; "but we must
be very careful with her, she looks so tender, and be sure you don't
over-feed her at first, wife, she has had but scanty fare and can't
stand much yet.  Where have you put Ben?"

"In the little room; I had a trouble at first to get her to sleep
away from him, they've always been together, but she was so worn out
that she fell 'over' while I was talking.  Before she lay down she
put her hands together and said her little prayer that Ben had taught
her; something like this it began:--

  "Jesus, Lord, we come before Thee,
  Much we need Thy tender care,

He has been a good boy to her, and his heart seems set on her.  We
must do what we can for him."

"Ay, wife, while we have a crust he'll share it," and Harry Gray drew
his hand across his eyes.

"Ah! what a flash!" cried Mrs. Gray, holding her breath, as the whole
heavens were lighted up.  Then followed a tremendous peal of thunder
and some heavy drops of rain.

They rose and went into the cottage after this, and the mother,
giving baby Harry to his father, ran up to look again at little Kit,
who opened her eyes, wakened by the heavy peal of thunder.

Little Kit had been separated from her parents for more than three
years owing to the cruel neglect of her aunt, Mrs. Rogers, to whose
care she had been committed by her mother during a severe illness,
and the little girl had lived a life of want and hardship since.

The Grays had tried to find Kit, but Mrs. Rogers removed from one
place to another, and at last they thought she had left the country.
She had married an idle drunken fellow who had brought her to extreme
poverty, and after she had obtained charge of Kit had gone from bad
to worse, and exposed the delicate little baby in the London streets
in order to gain money, then, fearing to be discovered, had hidden
the child from her parents, in one of the slums of London.

Some months before the children's treat Mrs. Rogers had died, and the
little girl would have perished from want had not Ben Rogers, her
cousin--a boy of nine or ten years--cared for her and loved her, and
by selling matches earned a bare living for them both.  The man,
Rogers, allowed them to use the room he slept in, but beyond this had
taken little notice of the children until a few weeks before the
treat, when, during a slight illness, Kit's pretty little prattle
about the Lord Jesus had touched his heart, and caused him to feel
more kindly towards the little girl.

The two children had found their way to a Sunday school, and there
had learned the good news of the Saviour's love, and they had been
enjoying themselves with the other little ones in the Hornsey Meadows
when accidentally discovered by Kit's mother, whose joy at finding
her long-lost child was indeed great.*


* See "Ben and Kit," companion volume to this.


The peal of thunder wakened Kit, and when she first opened her eyes
she was frightened.  The room was strange with its clean white bed
hangings and neat furniture.  She had been used to a dull back room
with a mattress on the floor for a bed, and on it she and Ben had
slept each night.  Her mother's face was strange to her, though the
yearning love displayed there would have comforted her little heart
could she have seen it right.  But the glare of lightning terrified
her, and she cried pitifully, "Ben, Ben, where are you?"

Another instant Ben sprang into the room.  He pushed past Mrs. Gray
and took Kit right out of her crib into his arms, while he tried to
stop her sobs.

"I'm here, Kit, don't cry," he said, patting her.  "Let her come with
me into my bed, Ma'am, she ain't used to sleeping alone.  I always
sung her to sleep."

There was no other way, so the mother, whose heart longed to be all
in all to the lost little one, gave her up for the time to her old
protector, who certainly had earned his right to her love.

"Kiss me, Kittie, for that is what I used to call you," she said,
"and love me a little, darling.  I am very glad you love Ben; he has
been a good kind boy to you."

Kit put up her lips to kiss, and stroked her kind face that bent over
her, then she clasped her arms round Ben and said, "Me does love Ben,
he's a dood boy," and in five minutes both children were fast asleep.

"Let them love each other, there's no fear but they'll get fond
enough of us by and by, wife," said the father upon hearing about it.
"We must remember she would have died had it not been for Ben; but I
know how you feel about it.  Your poor heart has been starving so
long, you feel you can't get right hold of her yet."

After they had taken one more look at the sleeping children, and
given God thanks for His goodness in restoring their lost darling,
the father went to his little cash box and put thirty shillings in
his wife's hand.

"Go out to-morrow and buy the children the things they most need," he
said, "I'm glad we've been able to put a little by, and I can spare
you more for them when that's done.  We must keep Ben for the present
at any-rate, and you'll find him a smart useful little chap, I think,
and when he's had a little schooling we can get him a place as
message boy.  Miss Randolphe, their teacher, told me yesterday she
would speak to her friend, Mr. Goodall, who has a large stationer's
shop near here, and she felt sure he would take Ben and give him a
trial when he wanted him to make a start."




CHAPTER II.

BEN AND KIT'S NEW CLOTHES.

For some hours the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled, but the
children slept peacefully in their bed.  It was the mother who lay
awake too overjoyed to sleep.  The morning dawned clear and bright,
and everything out of doors smelled sweet and fresh after the rain.

Little Kit sat on her father's knee at breakfast, with a basin of
bread and milk before her.  She looked very pale and thin, though a
sweet smile of content was on her lips.  She took a few spoonfuls,
and then put the basin gently from her.

"No more, now," she said.  "I wish we might take it to Tommy Perrin,
he doesn't get such nice things."

"Why Kit! we are ever so far away from the Perrins," answered Ben,
"and this lady says that we are not going any more."

"No, you shall never leave mother any more, Kittie," she said.  "And
Ben, dear, call me Aunt.  I am your aunt, and Kittie's father is your
uncle.  Try and remember to do so and please me, there is a good boy."

Ben shook his head.

"Kit and I always call folks by the same name, don't we, Kit?  and it
seems awful strange to do different.  Couldn't you be my mother, mam,
too?" said the little fellow, looking Mrs. Gray full in the face.
"I'd help you as best I could; I'd dress Kit and little Harry and
take them out walks; and I'd chop sticks and light fires; and I could
cook herrings and carry water; and I'd go out and sell matches, and
bring home the coppers to you."

Mrs. Gray's eyes filled with tears.  "You are right, Ben," she said,
"call us father and mother, and we'll all live happy together; you
shall help me as much as you can, and we'll put you to school; and
when you've learned to read and to write you shall be a message boy.
Am I saying right, Harry?" she asked her husband.

"You couldn't have spoken more to my mind.  If the little chap is
honest and willing, we'll make a man of him, and try and be father
and mother, if Rogers will let us.  Now, I must be off to work," he
added, kissing Kit, and tossing baby Harry in the air.  "Take care of
her, mother, and try and bring some roses into her cheeks, for she
looks very tender."  And he shook his head rather sorrowfully.

"You don't think there is anything really wrong, do you?" asked his
wife, anxiously.

"No, no, I hope not; but she'll need all your care; she has only
eaten enough for her breakfast to feed a sparrow.  Take her into the
fields, and give her fresh milk;--with God's blessing she'll get on."

A neighbour, who had heard the good news of Ben and Kit's arrival,
came in after breakfast with her arms full of clothes to lend the
little ones till they were better provided for.

"Here's some of Mary's and Billy's bits of things to dress them up
in.  I was saying to my husband it will take Mrs. Gray some time to
make them look decent; and we can spare these for a few days while
she is rigging them up.  Said he, 'You're right, wife; suppose it had
been our Mary!'"

"I am sure you are very kind, Mrs. Brown; I was just wondering what I
should do about the clothes, for I am going to take them to John
Blair's to get a few ready-made things, till I have time to sew for
them myself."

Ben was standing by his aunt's side, and Kit was on her knee, looking
rather shyly in her face.

"This is the best frock Kit has got, and it's a pretty little one.
Isn't it?" asked he, pointing to the little blue skirt they had been
so proud of in former days.  "And this little hat," he went on,
taking up the black straw with the faded violet ribbon.  "We used to
think it grand, didn't we, Kit?  Somehow it looks very shabby against
Baby's.  But his is so pretty."

Mrs. Gray laughed, and neighbour Brown remarked,--with a shake of her
head,--that "Ben was a wise boy for his age."

The children were soon dressed as neatly as possible under the
circumstances, and little Kit was placed in the perambulator, for her
mother was afraid she would be tired, though they were not going very
far.

"I will carry baby," she said.

"And I'll shove Kit," cried Ben.

And so they started "to shop."  Kit greatly enjoyed the ride, and
Ben's heart swelled with pride to see her looking so bright and
happy, and he stamped his feet on the pavement as they went along,
that he might hear the sound of the leather.  It was a long time
since he had worn boots.

"Is them your boots, Ben, making that noise?" asked Kit, turning
round.

"Yes, Kit; do you like to hear it?" asked he.

Kit nodded her head and smiled.  At last they reached John Blair's,
and Kit was taken out of the perambulator into the shop.  Her mother
bought her a neat little print frock, pinafores, a cape, and a straw
hat with a blue ribbon round, and then she tried on a jacket, which
fitted her nicely, and ended by getting socks and shoes.

"I have plenty of stuff by me to make underclothing," she said, "and
a piece of light cloth that will do for another frock."

So little Kit was fitted out for the present, and then came Ben's
turn.  He had looked on with admiring eyes while each article was
tried on to the little girl, and his admiration was told out by
deep-drawn sighs.

"Now, Ben, we must find something for you," said Mrs. Gray, as she
looked at Kit with deep satisfaction, and imprinted a kiss on the
sweet wistful little face.

"Something for you, Ben," echoed Kit.

"Never mind me," said he, "I'm good enough to push the coach."

"Here's a jacket and knickerbockers that would just fit the little
fellow, only six and sixpence, a real bargain, good strong tweed,"
said the man who had returned with the articles.

They are pronounced the "very thing," and so after Ben was supplied
with a cap, boots, and stockings, the little party returned home with
their parcels, and the children were dressed in their new things by
the time the father returned for his dinner.

He was charmed with the improvement that neat clothes made in both
the children, and could hardly take his eyes off Kit, and when she
lisped out, "Mother gave me these," the mother's eyes filled with
happy tears.

"Let's have tea on the green, wife, it will please the children, and
Ben and Kit must each feel in one of my big pockets for a parcel,
when I get home.  I saw something pretty in a shop this morning that
I think will please my little girl."

"And something for baby, too?" asked Kit.

"Yes; I'll have something for Harry, too," replied the father as he
prepared to return to work.




CHAPTER III.

A PRAYER IN THE WOOD SHED.

About an hour after dinner Kit fell into a sound sleep, and her
mother laid her in her little bed, thankful that she should get a
good rest, for the least exertion seemed to fatigue her.

Ben took the opportunity to look about him, as Mrs. Gray had given
him leave to go where he liked, so long as he kept the cottage in
sight.  He examined each corner of the little garden, for every plant
and shrub was a wonder to the little fellow, who had lived all his
days in the back streets of a squalid part of London.

Half of the garden was laid out in cabbages, onions, beans, and
parsley, with a border of sweet-smelling country flowers round it.
The other half was a nice even plot of green grass, where Mrs. Gray
hung her clothes to dry, but a wide-spreading apple tree threw a
pleasant shade on the one side, and here the little family had often
sat in the summer evenings, before Ben and Kit so unexpectedly joined
them.

There was a little shed, too, where the garden tools were kept, and
beside it a hen-house and a dog's kennel, and next the hen-house,
where the hens roosted and had their nests, was a small yard enclosed
by wire-fence to keep them off the garden, and here a hole had been
made into the field beyond, so that "Master Scott," as they called
the Scotch grey cock, could roam about with his four companions,
Speckle, Beauty, Black Bess, and Snowflake, without doing mischief.

At roosting time, Mrs. Gray let them come round the cottage door to
eat their supper, and then "Master Scott" would grow very bold and
fly on to the kitchen dresser and give a triumphant crow.

Ben asked if he might look into the hen-house, and Mrs. Gray said she
would come and show him the hen that was sitting on thirteen eggs.

"You must never disturb her, Ben; for, if she sits steadily, this day
week there will be a brood of young chicks, and Kit and you shall
each have one for your own."

Of course, Ben was highly delighted, and promised to be careful.
After this he went into the meadows and made friends with "Master
Scott" and the old hen who had so carefully gathered her chicks under
her wing the night before.

It was hard work for Beauty to do this now, for her children were
growing big and their heads would poke out from between her feathers,
and though she stretched her wings ever so wide, the little black
chick could find no room, but had to perch on her back.

By the time Kit woke up, Ben had gathered her a bunch of buttercups
and daisies, and then he asked permission to take her a walk.

"Be very careful then, and only go a little way, Ben," said the
mother, fearful lest any harm might come to her new found treasure.

"I always take care of Kit, no harm comes to her when I'm by; does
it, Kit?" said Ben, drawing himself up.

"No, no horses run over me, or big boys knock me down.  Ben always
takes me up in his arms and carries me safe home when I's tired.
He's the bestest boy," and she looked at him in his new suit with
great satisfaction.

"Doesn't it seem strange, Kit, to be here," said Ben, as they walked
up and down the road, "with good dinners, teas, nice clothes, and
such beautiful hens and chickens."

"Yes; and Jesus is here too, isn't He? and He gave us these nice
things?  The lady said so."

"Of course He is; and He helped your father and mother to find you.
We ought to thank Him.  I believe it all comes because we went to the
Sunday school.  See how we got the fine treat, and then how your
mother came to the field and saw you crying, and found out that you
were her little girl.  Kit, we ought to thank Jesus about it; the
Sunday school belongs to Him!" said Ben, solemnly.

"Where will we kneel down, Ben?"

"There's a nice little shed would do," said Ben, "come along and I'll
show you."  They opened the door of the out-house, and finding a
clean spot, the children took hands and knelt as they had knelt many
a time in the little back room at Peters Street.  "You first, Kit,
then me next," said Ben.

"Bless me, Jesus Lord, and Ben too," began Kit, "I'm very glad I've
found my father and mother and baby, and You have given us all these
nice things--Amen."

"And take care of the Sunday school now we are not there," added Ben,
"and help me to be handy to my new father and mother, and take us all
to heaven, because you're the Saviour--Amen."

The mother had watched them go into the shed, and wondering what kept
them there, had stolen on tip-toe round to the other side, and looked
in through a space between the boards.

The sight she saw caused her unmingled astonishment.  She had no idea
that the little ones had learned thus to pray and tell Jesus of their
joys as well as their troubles.  Kittie's eyes were closed, and the
light from the door fell upon her sweet serene little face, while
Ben, with knitted brows, was moving his head from side to side, and
clasping her hand firmly.

"I'm glad we've thanked Him; now it won't look as if we had
forgotten," he said as they rose.  "It would be real mean, you know,
Kit, when God took such care of us in Peters Street.  Miss Randolphe
said she would come and see us some day, and hear our verses.  We
mustn't forget them.  Let's come under the tree and say them."

Mrs. Gray stepped forward, and without appearing to have seen the
children before, asked them to come and help her get tea ready, for
father was coming in, and they were all to have tea on the green.
She wanted them to carry out the cups and plates, and bread and
butter, then after that she wished them to sing their hymns.




CHAPTER IV.

LAMBS OF THE FLOCK.

"Before tea, Harry must get his face washed," Mrs. Gray said, and
taking baby on her knee, proceeded to sponge his rosy cheeks.  Harry
screamed lustily.

"I never scream when Ben washes my face," said Kit, who was watching
the operation with great interest.

"No, but you are older than Harry, and know better," said her mother.

"I'm growing a bigger girl," said Kit, straightening herself.  "I'm
_up to my head_,--see!" and she placed her hand on the top of her
curly locks.

"So you are," said her mother, laughing; "and down to your toes."

"When Harry is up to my head and down to my toes, he won't scream
when being washed," cried Kit.

"I hope not," replied her mother, as Ben laughed merrily; "but see,
he's a good boy now, and fit to be kissed; so we will lay him down on
the grass to kick, while we set the table for tea."

They spread a table-cloth on the green, and the children were
delighted to help.  It was so different from anything they had done
before.

Ben carried out hassocks for Kit and himself, and the two ran back
and forward with plates, cups, and spoons, and every time they came
with a fresh article, baby Harry crowed and kicked afresh.

"Now, that's the train in," said Mrs. Gray, "go to the gate, and look
for father.  In a few minutes he should be here."  Soon they both
returned to the house each holding the father's hand, and each
carrying a parcel.  Ben waited while Kit's parcel was being opened,
and then both children uttered a cry of delight.  A wax doll with
blue eyes and flaxen ringlets made its appearance dressed in blue.

"I couldn't resist bringing it to her," said Gray, "I guessed that
she never had such before."  Kit hugged her new treasure much as her
mother had hugged her the night before, while her eyes grew lustrous,
and a bright flush spread over her cheeks.

Ben quite forgot for the minute to open his parcel, he was so lost in
admiration over Kit's doll.  But when he had time to think of his and
had opened it he found himself the possessor of a First Reading Book
crammed full with illustrations.  There were pictures of dogs and
cats, horses, ships, soldiers, etc., etc.

"Now, Ben, you must learn to read," said the father, when they had
taken their places for tea, "so that in a few months you can go out
and earn your living again like a brave boy."

"So I will, if my own father, in Peters Street, will let me stay with
you.  Oh!  I do hope he will.  But I haven't made you a bow for the
fine book.  This is how we bow to the gentry when they give us
coppers, isn't it, Kit?" and he stood up and made them all laugh
while he pulled his front hair and then went head over heels all
along the grass.

Then Harry received his present, which was a squeaking pig, and it
added to the merriment of the little party to see his pleasure, and
to hear his funny little crows of delight mingling with the squeaks
of the pig.

Ben was merry that night.  He felt so happy, for Mr. Gray said he had
gone to Peters Street in the middle of the day and had seen their old
home.  He brought with him the little Sunday school books and a
wallflower Kit prized.  He also had called on Mrs. Perrin, who had
been a kind friend to them, and had had a long talk with her.  She
told him much of Ben's faithfulness to Kit, and cried at the thought
of losing the children.

However, Gray asked her over with her children to spend the day at
Wood Cottage in a fortnight's time, and she had promised to come.
Rogers (Ben's father) was not at home, but Mrs. Perrin said she would
give him the message that Gray left, and do her best to persuade him
to give Ben up to them, and then she would write and let the inmates
of Wood Cottage know the result.

She had little difficulty about it, for Rogers wanted to go to sea,
and his only drawback had been leaving the little fellow.

Ben was very glad to get his few books again.

"This one has our newest hymns in it," he said, pointing to the
well-worn cover.

"Let us hear it, Ben," said the mother.

"Well, turn about then, Kit," said the boy, "you one verse and I the
next."

Kit laid her doll down with a fond look, and folded her arms while
she repeated--

  "We are lambs of the flock,
    And no danger we fear,
  While the voice and the call
    Of our Shepherd we hear.

  "We will follow, we will follow
  His call to our home in the sky."


Then Ben went on with the two next verses--

  "Oh, the pastures are green,
    And the flowers bloom around,
  By the side of still waters
    He will make us lie down.

        "We will follow," etc.

  "Oh, that all the dear lambs
    Had a heart to reply,
  When the good Shepherd calls
    From His home in the sky.

        "We will follow," etc.


"That is very pretty, and nicely repeated too," said Kit's parents.
Do you know any more?

"I know a beautiful one about"

  "I want to be like Jesus,
  So lovely and so meek
  For no one--one-----"


"Marked" put in Ben--

  "Marked an angry word
  That ever heard Him speak."


"And I like the verse," added Ben--

  "I want to be like Jesus,
    Engaged in doing good,
  So that of me it may be said,
    He hath done what he could."


"Now, tell us what you heard in the Sunday school from the teacher,"
said the mother.

"Well," began Ben, "our teacher said we were like little lambs, and
Jesus is the Good Shepherd; and He came down from heaven and died for
us, so that we need not die for our sins; and she told us to love Him
and trust Him; and He would take His little lambs in His arms and
help them on, and give them all they require, and--and--" hesitated
Ben.

"And one day we will go to Jesus' happy place up there, and we want
to be like Jesus," said Kit.

While she was speaking, Ben rose with flushed cheeks, and pointed to
the western sky where bright clouds were lying as the sun slowly
descended.

"Hark!  I think I can hear it!" he said, raising his head.  "Perhaps
the time has come! oh, perhaps!"

"What time?" they asked, wondering what the boy meant.

"Why, for Jesus to come, of course.  See how bright it is! and I
think I hear the sound of the trumpet!  Maybe the time's come--has
it?"

For a minute neither of the parents spoke.  Then the mother said: "It
is the sun setting, and the sound you heard was a bell far away--but
one day soon Jesus will come to take us home to Heaven."

Ben sat down and watched the sky, looking rather disappointed.

"I thought it was the trumpet.  Teacher said He might come any day,
and that we were always to be looking out for Him, ready for the
trumpet sound, when we would go up to be with Jesus."

"Do you want to go so much, Ben?" asked the mother.

"Yes, it would be nice; so nice.  We often hoped that Jesus would
come every night when we were hungry and it was dark and
cold,--didn't we, Kit?"

"Yes; and Him is coming some day," said Kit, with a nod of her head.

"I wonder if folks want Him as much when they have good houses and
nice dinners, and beautiful gardens?" asked Ben in a slow and
thoughtful tone, as if to himself.  "I wonder if Kit and I will want
Him as much now!"

Mrs. Gray had not an answer ready for Ben; she was putting one or two
questions to her own heart--questions she could not very easily
answer.  Tears filled her eyes, and she rose to put baby Harry to bed.

So Ben sat very quiet, thinking over the matter till the silence was
broken by the father saying:

"We ought to want the Lord as much in the bright days, as in the
dark.  I hope Kit and you will never stop speaking of Him.  He left
all the brightness and the glory of heaven, and came down to this
earth where all was sin and darkness.  They were dark sorrowful days
for Him; but He came."

"He came to save us, teacher said," put in Ben.




CHAPTER V.

DIFFICULTIES IN THE NARROW PATH.

Three weeks after Ben and Kit entered their new home, Ben's school
life began.  He was very proud to make the start, and went with great
confidence, because he was able to say the alphabet correctly, and
had learned to read a few little words.

Miss Randolphe, their old Sunday school teacher, had called at Wood
Cottage and given Mrs. Gray twenty shillings to be used for Ben's
schooling.  She was very fond of the two children, and stayed some
time with them, and spoke to them of the Saviour and His home, as she
had done in times gone by.  She noticed that Ben looked a little
sorrowful as she spoke, and she asked him if he was quite happy.

"Come up the garden, and I'll tell you," he said.

So Miss Randolphe took his hand and walked up to the garden seat.

"Well, Ben," she asked kindly, "does anything trouble you?"

The tears trickled down Ben's cheeks.  "It's jolly here, but when you
spoke it seemed as if I used to love Him better," and Ben nodded
toward the sky.  "Is it harder for folks to be good when they've got
nice things?" he asked.

"Do you find it harder to please Jesus here, Ben?"

"Yes, things go wrong inside me," he answered, with a sob.  "Perhaps
He doesn't take so much care of me now I've got father and mother.

"That's not it, Ben dear; Jesus is just the same, He never changes.
It is we who change.  Do you go to Him as much as you did?  Is it not
that you do not feel to need Him so much now?"

"I expect _that's it_," he answered.

"And you must remember, Ben, that Satan is ever on the watch to tempt
you.  It is hard to resist him, but you must do it.  If you trust in
Jesus, who died for sinners, you are God's little child.  You may
fail sometimes and do wrong, and make mistakes, but you are God's
little child all the same.  It is far happier to be His obedient
child than to wander from Him.  Before coming here you felt that you
needed to ask God for your daily bread and for your clothes.  Ask Him
just the same now, Ben.  In one day He could take away all these good
things if He chose.  It is easier to keep near Him in the dark days,
because we lean more on Him.  Do you understand, dear?"

"Yes, I see it!" replied the little fellow, with a smile.  "I began
to think perhaps it was Kit loved Jesus and not me!"

"Just think of _His love_ to you, Ben.  He went straight to the cross
for you and shed His precious blood to wash away your sin.  _His love
never_ grows cold."

"I'll never think He doesn't love me again, and I'll fight against
Satan.  Only it's very hard, for there's a boy near here who teases
me and mocks me, and sometimes I feel so cross and angry."

"You can only overcome him by the Saviour's help.  Go and tell Jesus
whenever you are tempted.  Now I shall give you two little printed
texts to keep, and you must read them over sometimes.  The first is
'Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever' (Heb. 13.
8).  It is just as if '_yesterday_' was when He died on the cross for
us.  'To-day' is now that He is helping us along the narrow pathway,
and '_for ever_' is when we shall be with Him in glory.  The other
text is 'To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the tree of
life, which is in the midst of the Paradise of God.'" (Rev. 2. 7).

Ben was very pleased with the texts, and said he would pin them up
over his bed.




CHAPTER VI.

BEN'S BATTLE BEGINS.

Perhaps my little reader thinks that if he were a boy like Ben he
would have no trouble after he reached such a happy home as Wood
Cottage.  But that is a mistake.  When little children or grown-up
people start on the narrow pathway they meet many foes who try to
hinder them and make them unhappy.  First there is Satan himself, who
does not honour the blood of Jesus, and who tries to make those
unhappy who do.  And then we find that though our sins are all
forgiven, and there is no judgment for us, yet our sinful hearts are
still with us, and unless we are watchful, Satan will tempt us to
grieve the Saviour.

Now I will tell you of some kinds of difficulties little boys and
girls have to contend with.

Ben had lived very much as he pleased, or rather as best he could, in
the old days when his parents were absent; and his thoughts were
generally taken up with how to find bread for Kit and himself.
Suddenly he was placed in a new home with kind friends, and food and
clothes provided, and after a few days he almost longed to get roving
about for himself again.  Not that he really wanted to get away to
Peters Street, but _sometimes_ he cast a wistful eye back to the days
when he brought home his coppers so proudly, and had little Kit "all
to himself."

Have we never after a change of circumstances looked back a little
regretfully to the past scenes, though they were shady ones, when
there was some little peculiar joy that made up for the trial?  Yes,
many of us have!

Kit was glad the first week or two to sit on her mother's knee, for
she felt weak and weary, and it was a new pleasure for her to feel
strong and loving arms around her.  Ben, who was weeding the garden,
could see them through the open door; and he would say to himself a
little bitterly--"Kit doesn't want me now."

But it was only sometimes he felt jealous, for there were happy busy
mornings when Ben made himself useful chopping sticks, carrying in
coal, cleaning windows, weeding and tidying up the garden, and Kit
would sit in her little chair and watch him and say, from time to
time, "You is the bestest boy for work, Ben."

After his work was done he would put on the two children's sun hats,
and take them away into the meadows to gather daisies; and then all
three would be very happy together.  Mrs. Gray said she found him a
great help, and she didn't know what she would do without him, for he
ran all her messages, and was "so handy on a washing day."

A short distance along the road was a row of small houses, and Mrs.
Gray knew by sight many of the people who lived there.  One family
named Snow had very often attracted her notice.  It consisted of the
father and mother and eight children.  A very unruly family they
were, but the fact gave the mother little concern.  She took things
"easy," and contented herself with putting the children out of doors
when they "bothered" her, or giving an occasional whipping all round
when needed.  She didn't believe in much punishment, and therefore
passed over falsehoods and small thefts and fits of temper, as
necessary faults with children.  "They would come right some day,"
she said.

The elder ones kept as much as possible out of her sight in play
hours, and she did not know half the mischief they did.  There was
one of the elder boys named Jim, who teased Ben a great deal.

Jim found out that Ben had been a very poor boy, and had earned his
living by selling matches, and it was a grand opportunity for him to
turn tormentor.

He would take off his cap to Ben as he passed him in the road, and
say--"Have you got any matches to sell to-day, I'm wanting a light
for my pipe."

And then when Ben reddened and looked angry, he would make a low bow,
and say--"I beg your honour's pardon, I must have made a mistake; I
see you are a grand gentleman with a new suit on."

This sort of thing was very hard for Ben to bear; he had never been
mocked at before.  And one day, after Jim had been speaking in this
way, Ben said to Kit--

"I'm going to pay him out, Kit.  I shall give him something he'll
_never_ forget."

"What will you give him, Ben, dear; something nice to make him
sorry?" she asked.

"That's the trouble," muttered Ben, moodily.  "I oughtn't to fight
now.  I've promised not to.  And of course I want to please Jesus,
but I _can't_ bear it."

Kit put her arms round the boy's neck and kissed him, and the anger
melted away from his face.

"P'haps Jim will soon turn into a good boy," she said.  "Let us ask
Jesus to make him sorry."

"That's the best way after all," answered Ben, as he returned her
kiss.

It was a bright sunny morning when Ben parted with Kit at the gate,
and started for school for the first time.

"Be sure and watch for me when I come home," he said.  Kit promised,
and off he ran waving to her and the mother as long as he could.

Jim Snow attended the same school, and as he had been learning to
read for three or four years, he was in one of the higher classes.
After the master had examined Ben, he placed him at the top of the
infant class.  But he patted his head kindly and said, "You look a
sharp boy, study hard and I will put you up higher."

Ben would not have thought so much about being in the low class, for
he was very anxious to get on, but when he raised his eyes, there was
Jim looking through the glass partition of the next classroom at him,
sneering and putting out his tongue and causing the others to laugh.

Ben tried not to look or to heed him, though he felt the insult very
keenly.

The little fellow's heart swelled within him as he walked home, and
some of the boys in the class ran by him crying, "Baby, baby."

"I should like to show them I'm no baby," he said to himself, as he
unconsciously clenched his fist.

A minute after, as he neared the cottage gate, Jim overtook him.
Ben's spirit rose as the boy asked, "If he would like to be carried
home, as he was in the baby class; he surely was not fit to walk
alone."

"Be off, and stop your nonsense," said Ben, "or I will pay you back."

Jim went on with his teasing talk, and Ben, forgetting all his good
resolutions, flew at him.  Of course, Jim returned the blow, and so
blow for blow was given, and for a minute the boys fought.

Ben was strong and fearless, but Jim was the bigger, though he was
not nearly so brave, and he might have given in, but a cry from the
gate of Wood Cottage recalled Ben to his senses, and at the same
moment a hand was laid on his shoulder.  A lady stood before the
boys, saying, "Shame on you both, are you not afraid to stand
fighting there with the eye of God looking upon you? and you are too
big to strike such a little boy," she said, looking at Jim.  Ben's
eyes turned towards the gate where Kit was standing with a distressed
face.  She had stopped screaming when they left off fighting, and now
her arms were spread out appealingly to Ben.

Jim slunk off, muttering angry words.  He was rather glad to escape,
for his courage had nearly forsaken him, but, as he turned to go, Ben
saw that his lip was bleeding.

Remorse set in directly; all his anger was gone, and Ben was
miserable.  He would have given all that he had now to live the last
ten minutes over again.  But that could not be; and Ben must reap
what he had sown.  He stood irresolute.  The lady was beside him.

"Where do you live?" she asked, kindly.  Something in the boy's sad
face interested her, red and heated as it was with the last few
minutes' work.  That work had left its effect in Ben's face, and he
held his handkerchief to a scratch on his cheek.

Ben glanced down the road where Kit stood waiting anxiously.

"There," he answered, pointing with his hand, "but I've a good mind
to run away and never come back; I would in a minute if it wasn't for
that little girl standing there.  She would be awfully sorry, but I'm
not fit to live in a place like that.  You see, I can't keep my
spirit down."

The lady put her hand on his shoulder, and drew him along with her
towards Kit as she said--

"There is One who would help you, little boy, if you would ask Him."

The tears rolled down Ben's cheeks.

"That's the worst bit of all," he answered.

"How so, my boy?"

"Because He's been--so--good, and I've tried to do what He wants me
to, and now I've spoilt it all."

They had reached the cottage gate, and Kit had slipped her hand into
Ben's, and looked up wonderingly into the lady's face, while she drew
some frightened sobs.

"Tell your mother I'm sorry, very sorry, Kit.  I'll come back to you
soon," said Ben, as he put Kit's hand gently on one side.  "But I
can't come in now;" and he nodded to the lady.  He took a few quick
steps forward, and was out of reach but not out of hearing as both
cried after him, "Don't go away," and the stranger added, "Be a brave
little soldier for Jesus, and don't run away."

But Ben, though he hesitated a moment, went on with rapid steps
towards the country.  Soon he began to run, and, after a few minutes,
they lost sight of him.  Then they went inside the cottage and found
Mrs. Gray hushing baby Harry to sleep.  She laid him down and then
turned with surprise to hear what Mrs. Frankham had to tell of Ben
and his fight with Jim Snow.

"I hope you will excuse me for intruding upon you," she said, "but I
am really sorry for the little fellow.  I believe he was teased by
the big boy, for I had been watching them for some minutes; his
temper got the better of him, but I think he is very grieved about
it."

Mrs. Gray thanked Mrs. Frankham for coming in, and then told her all
she knew of Ben's history, and how he had only been with her for a
short time.

"He is a very wise little fellow, and so kind and willing.  We are
very fond of him, and should be sorry, indeed, if any harm came to
him.  But I think he'll come back, for the love he bears our Kittie,"
she said.

"Him said he'd come back," cried Kit, with quivering lip and eyes
brimful of tears.

"So he will, dear.  Don't fret," said her mother, "it isn't good for
you."

Before Mrs. Frankham left, she said that when passing again she would
like to call and speak a word to the little fellow, for she felt sure
he was trying to do right from what he had said to her.

"You have taught him about the Lord Jesus, Mrs. Gray?"

"I sometimes think he has taught me more, for many a word he has said
about Jesus has gone deep into my heart."

"Poor little fellow, he will be sorry; we have such a foe to contend
with.  Tell him, from me, that if he loves the Saviour he must take
Him as his Captain, and He will give him strength to stand as a good
soldier, and not to yield to Satan and be overcome."




CHAPTER VII.

BEN'S RETURN.

The afternoon passed wearily to little Kit and her mother, for Ben
did not return.  They went to the gate many times to look for him,
and walked some way up the road, but Ben was not to be seen.
Tea-time came, and Harry Gray returned.  He was very vexed and
disappointed.

"I hoped that we should be able to keep him and train him up well,
for he gave good promise in many ways; it will be a pity if he goes
back to the old place."

"Ben said he would come back, and him speaks true.  Him's the
_truest_ boy, father," urged Kit.  "Jesus can see him, and will make
him came back."

"Your faith is strong, darling, I shall go out after tea, and try to
find him."

But there was no need to go out after tea to look for him, for the
next moment Kit was down from the table and had her arms round Ben's
knees.

He had just lifted the latch of the kitchen door very gently and
walked in.  His face was quite calm, with a smile 'twixt hope and
fear on it.  Before Mr. and Mrs. Gray could speak he walked straight
up to the mother.

"I'm awfully sorry I fought Jim this morning, and if you'll give me
another chance I'll try and do better, though he mocks and laughs at
me, and calls me 'Baby, in the low class,' I won't heed it.  I want
to be--to be what the lady said, 'A brave soldier for Jesus.'  He
never struck any one."

"That's right, Ben dear.  It's all forgiven and forgotten--you won't
do it again.  We're glad to have you home," said the mother, with
fast filling eyes.

And, holding out his hands to him, the father added, "Aye, we need to
remember that He was mocked, and scourged, and crucified, and yet He
never even threatened them, but prayed God the Father to forgive."

"I'll try hard, and do like Him," said Ben.

"Remember, boy, that when they laugh at you, if you _take it in fun_
they'd soon stop.  Suppose they call you a 'Baby in the low class,'
if you could just turn round and say, 'I know I'm in the baby class,
but it isn't my fault, and I don't mean to stay there'; it would be
better and more kind if you helped me with my lessons.'  If you said
that, Ben, they would soon stop it."

"There's some sense in that," said Ben, shrewdly.  "I'll try it
to-morrow, though it will be very hard."

"I am afraid it will.  When we do wrong, we must suffer; but I'll try
and help you through it, lad."

"You are kind," replied the little fellow.

"He's the _kindest_ father," echoed Kit, for which she was well
kissed, and they all laughed.

"She was quite _sure_ you would come back, Ben!"

"It was a good thing I _promised_ her, for I never told her a lie;
and when I got into the old barn, up the road far away, I thought I
couldn't face any of you again, for I knew you would not approve of
fighting ways; but I remembered what the lady, our teacher, said
about being a brave little soldier for Jesus, and I thought: 'If they
will try me again, I'll go back, because I could never leave my
little Kit.'  See, I nearly forgot what I had brought you, Kit."

"Oh--h! oh--h! the beau-fullist little bird," she cried, as Ben drew
a little dead nestling from his breast pocket.

"But it's dead!--dead!" she added.

"It was up at the stream yonder.  I went to give my face a wash after
all the,--the,--you know what,--and the crying,--so I was having a
good plunge when this little _bird_ flapped along the ground, and was
frightened at all my splashin' I suppose, for it fell in the water,
and then it scrambled out, and flew right into a hole in the wall.  I
took off my stockings, and wading across lifted it out; but the
little thing was nearly dead, and its heart was thumping at such a
rate, and its beak kept opening and shutting till it died."

Kittie's eyes opened very wide while Ben was telling this, and her
cheeks flushed crimson.  She held the dead little thing so tenderly
in her hands, while its tiny head fell over her fingers.

"I will keep it like this, the darling birdie," said the little girl;
and all the evening long she would not give it up.

"We must bury it to-morrow, Kit, in your little garden.  I'll make a
little box for its coffin, and dig the hole."

But she stroked the pretty little yellow and brown feathers, and did
not wish to think of to-morrow.




CHAPTER VIII.

SCHOOLBOYS.

When Ben woke next morning he had a great load on his mind, for he
had to face the boys again; but after a few words with the father, he
felt better; and taking Harry Gray's hand in the breakfast hour, they
went together to Jim's home.

A knock at the door brought Mrs. Snow face to face with them.

"This little chap forgot himself yesterday, and when the boys mocked
him for being put in the low class, he struck at your Jim.  He is
sorry for it, and wants to make up with him again."

"Jim came in with his lip cut, and I found out that your boy had done
it.  I suppose he has been used to that sort of thing, and we cannot
expect much better from him.  As he is sorry, it's all right this
time; and I hope he will behave himself better another day."

"I never used to fight anybody," answered Ben.  "It's hard for a
fellow to be called 'baby' because no one taught him to read before;
but I mean to try not to fight Jim again.  You might ask him to leave
off teasing me."

Mrs. Snow looked at the eager face before her, and her better
feelings prevailed.

"Come here, Jim," she cried, diving at Jim, who was behind the door;
"here's Ben Gray come to tell you he's sorry for fighting.  It's more
than you would do.  Now don't you tease him again."

Jim struggled to get free, and bursting away, cried--"I'll pay him
out; see if I don't."

Mrs. Snow's better feelings were quite overwhelmed now by her anger
against Jim; and she went in search of him to promise him such a
thrashing as he knew she would never carry out, while Harry Gray and
Ben walked away.

"Don't be afraid, boy, persevere and think twice before you act,"
said the father, as they parted--the one for school, the other for
work.

Of course Ben had a great deal to contend with; but when he had once
tried the right way, every fresh attack from the boys was easier to
withstand.

"That's the baby who had to go and beg Jim's pardon," said a close
friend of Jim's to Ben on coming home from school the same day.

Ben's cheeks flushed and he bit his lips, then he turned to the boy--

"I am in the baby class," he said, "and it's enough to make you laugh
to see such a big boy as I am there, but I'm not going to stay in
it--I mean to try and get out in two weeks, and as you know such a
lot you might help me to read.  I did tell Jim I was sorry, and so I
_am_, because I've made a _lot_ of people sorry."

It was a great effort for Ben to say this, but it had its effect; the
boy didn't know what to reply, and ran off.

After a few days the others left off teasing Ben about his lessons,
for he was not afraid to own the truth,--and in a fortnight the
master put him in another class.  But Jim did not forgive Ben.




CHAPTER IX.

IN THE STORM.

It was just such another day as when the Sunday School children had
played about in the meadows six weeks before.  The rays of the sun
were very hot, though a gentle breeze stirred the branches of the
trees around.  Far in the distance was a dark line of cloud, but it
was so far away that one did not notice it.

Little Kit was looking rather pale; and when Ben ran in from school
the mother said--

"You might take Kit for a ride in the perambulator, Ben.  Be back in
time for tea."  She could trust him perfectly with Kit now, as he had
proved himself very careful, and after tucking the little girl
comfortably into the "coach," she put pieces of bread and jam into
their hands, and they started off towards the country.

Ben was very anxious to show Kit a bird's nest he had discovered in a
bush on the outskirts of a wood some distance away, but there would
be plenty of time to reach the place and get back for tea, if they
were quick.  So he ran along the shady side of the road, pushing Kit
merrily.

"The nest is empty now, Kit, but you'll like to see where the young
birds were hatched.  It was such a cosy warm place."

"Something like my little crib, Ben."

"Very much like that, Kit, and you look like a little bird yourself
at night, with your head peeping out and your eyes shining bright
like beads."

Kit laughed, "I wonder if angels watch over little birds at night?"

"Well--father said not one of them falls to the ground without God
knowing it, so may be they are watched over.  Folks say that little
'birds' praise Him by their singing; anyhow it sounds as if they
chirped something solemn at night when the sun has gone down.  I've
heard them in that wood over there."

"It's nice to think of little birds thanking Him, isn't it?" said Kit.

"Yes; and we ought never to forget to thank Him also, for we've got
far more nice things than they."

As they passed along the hedgerow and neared the wood, Jim Snow
sprang out upon them with a howl which caused Kit to scream with
terror, whereupon he set up his mocking laugh.

"I saw the young lady and her coachman coming along, and I thought
I'd make her jump," he cried; "ha! ha!"

"How _could_ you be so cruel, Jim? see how frightened she is," said
Ben, indignantly.  "Big boys like you ought not to frighten little
girls.  Never mind, Kit; he will not do it again."

"Don't you be too sure," cried Jim, as he disappeared behind the
bushes.

It would have been wiser if Ben had turned homewards after this
little affair, but he was so anxious to show Kit the bird's nest.  He
watched till Jim ran off to the little stream where he had found the
nestling for Kit a short time before, and then wheeled her onwards.
At the stream, Jim joined Eliza (his sister next in age to himself),
who was in charge of a little girl about a year old.  He spoke to her
as if ordering her home, and then stopped to watch her proceedings
for a few minutes.  She had taken the shoes and socks off the baby
and was going to teach it to walk in the water.

Poor little thing, it was grasped roughly round the waist, while its
tiny feet were jumped up and down on the stones in the stream.

"I shan't go home till I've given Jane a bathe, shall I, darling?"
Jane screamed, and Eliza shook her.

"I'm not going to stand any of that, so stop at once," she said, and,
whilst trying to get a firmer hold of the child, it fell sideways
into the stream.

Of course, Jane screamed louder, and Eliza took her or tugged her up
the bank as best she could; all her little garments dripping with
water.

"Won't you catch it," cried Jim, with a whistle.

"Don't tell, Jim, and I'll wring out her things, and they'll dry
before I get home."

"Won't I though; you told about me the other day, didn't you?  But I
must be off, wishing you good luck," and he ran away in the direction
Ben and Kit had gone, leaving Jane to her fate.

Eliza did her utmost to dry the clothes, and all the way home was
planning the best method of getting over her scrape, if her mother
should find it out.

On went Ben with his little charge, quite unaware that they were both
followed by Jim, who was very curious to know their proceedings.  A
short distance up the road, on the side of a hill, Ben came to a
gate, which was attached to a post by a chain slipped over it; he
raised this, and pushed the perambulator into the meadow, and,
lifting Kit out, told her to take his hand, while he pushed the
"coach" up the rising ground, past some straggling bushes.

"Now, we'll leave it here for a few minutes, Kit, while we scramble
through this little hole in the fence into the wood, and you'll hear
the birds sing, if you be quiet, and I'll show you the little nest
Will Grant showed me.  We mustn't stay many minutes, because I
promised to be back before father comes home to tea.  I'll take the
shawl on my arm, in case you would like to sit on it."

They scrambled through the little hole, and Ben searched about for
the bush.  It was not so easy to find as he imagined, and it took him
nearly a quarter of an hour before he hit on the right spot.

Kit did not mind the delay, for she was busy filling her hands with
all sorts of weeds and leaves and flowers, to take home to her
mother.  At last the nest was found, which Will Grant had left hoping
the bird might lay more eggs in it, and Ben lifted Kit to see it and
feel it.

"What's that?" cried Ben.

They listened.

"Sounds like funder," said Kit.

A low distant roar was heard, which suddenly seemed to break over
their heads.  At the same moment a shrill whistle sounded near them,
and a tall man broke through the bushes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.  "Be off, sharp now.  You are
disturbing the beasts, and you're 'trespassing.'"

Ben started, and Kit clung to him.

"What beasts, please Sir?  Are there any wild beasts about?" and Ben
glanced round with a scared look.

"No, no, rabbits and hares, and such like, which we want kept quiet.
Another thing is, traps have been set all over the wood, and if you
got your legs caught in them, it would be awkward."

"It would never do for this little girl to get caught.  Would you
please tell us where they are, Sir?"

"Oh, all about; never come here any more.  It takes all my time
keeping the public off."

"We have nothing to do with 'publics.'  Father and mother wouldn't
allow us to go inside one, please Sir," said Ben secretly rather
afraid of the tall man, and wishing to be civil.

"No, no; I was making no reference to the public houses," answered
he, with a laugh.  "I daresay you are decent little folks, but you
ought not to be here.  What did you come for?"

"I came to show this little girl a real bird's nest in a bush here,
but I won't come again.  You see, she was brought up in Peters Street
and never saw one before."

"Hum! she's a pretty little thing, and you ought to take her home at
once, there's a tempest coming on.  See!"  A flash of lightning
lighted up the wood, showing up for an instant every leaf and branch;
then followed a peal of thunder.

"It isn't safe to stay here; what are you going to do?"

"The 'coach' is just outside the fence, I'll put Kit in and run home."

The man hesitated; he had a kindly face when off duty; and the little
pair touched a chord in his heart.

"If the storm is heavy, just stop at the little red brick cottage
along the road; my wife stays there; tell her I sent you; I have to
go a little further before I turn in."

He helped them through the bushes, saying, as he did so, "I can't
think how you'll get along; the storm is going to be heavy; but you
mustn't stay here."

"We were saying coming along that God takes care of sparrows, so He
is sure to look after us.  We are not afraid.  You might have been
awful cross with us for coming in this here wood, instead of that you
are helping us, you see.  It must be Jesus taking care of us."

"I wish I never had to deal with worse characters than you," said
Michael Craig, for this was his name.  "Go into the cottage as you
pass.  Good-bye."

Again the children scrambled through the little hole in the fence,
and ran to the place they had left the perambulator; but to their
dismay, it was gone.




CHAPTER X.

THE LITTLE RED HOUSE.

The scene around had changed during the half-hour.

Angry looking clouds were coming up on all sides, and heavy drops of
rain were falling.

"What _shall_ we do?" cried Ben.  "Your coach has been stolen, Kit.
What will they say at home?  Oh dear--dear!  Some tramps have got it.
We must follow on, and perhaps we'll overtake it."

"I don't like the lightning, Ben," cried Kit.

"And this rain will soak you through; keep close up to the hedge a
few minutes, while I wrap you in the shawl.  It's a good thing I took
that with us."

He wrapped Kit up as warmly as possible, and made her sit down behind
him while he kept the rain off her as best he could.  Tears of
vexation rolled down his cheeks as he thought, "things seem to be all
going wrong," and he absently put his hands in his pockets.  Doing
so, he laid hold of the two little texts Miss Randolphe had given
him--"Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever" (Heb.
xiii. 8).  Her words occurred to his mind--Yesterday means long ago
when He died on the cross for us and put away our sin; To-day means
now while He helps us along the narrow path; and Forever, when we
will be with Him safe in heaven.

"All right," thought Ben, "if Jesus keeps the same, He won't forget
_us_, but He'll help us safe through all this trouble we've got into.
There's another flash, Kit!  We mustn't stay here, it is not safe; I
heard father say, people are struck dead under trees and such like
when the lightning flashes.  What was that!  It sounded like some one
crying out?  Listen."  But a peal of thunder drowned every other
sound.  "I suppose it was only my fancy.  Now Kit, stand on that old
tree--that's it, and put your arms round my neck, and I'll sling the
shawl right over your head and bind you on my back, and run away home
as fast as I can, then I'll come back and look after the 'coach.'"

Kit did as she was bid, and with his precious burden on his back, Ben
ran as fast as he could down the hill.  The rain pelted upon them,
and the little boy panted for breath, but he struggled on till the
little red cottage came in sight.

"We must try and get in here," he gasped, and upon reaching the door,
he rapped.

A woman past middle age opened the door, and looked greatly surprised
at seeing Ben with the little girl's head peeping out above his
shoulders.

"Please let us in; the gentleman who walks in the woods to keep the
public off, told us to come here till the thunder was over," cried
Ben.

The woman drew the children inside the door, and asked them to walk
in and dry themselves at the kitchen fire, while they told her all
that had happened.

She had a sweet sad face, with grey banded hair, and though her dress
was very plain, almost poor, yet it was very neat.  A younger woman,
with a baby in her arms, stood by the fire.

"It's an awful storm for such little children to be out in.  Tell us
all about it, my lad, and how you met our Michael!" said the elder
woman, lifting Kit on her knee.

Thus encouraged, Ben began at the beginning and told all about the
excursion, the bird's nest, the meeting with Michael, and the loss of
the "coach."

The women were loud in their sympathy, and said it was a strange
thing that it should be stolen so quickly.

"Directly I've taken little Kit home, I shall run and have another
look round just in case someone has moved it and it is still
somewhere about," said Ben.

"Yes, it would be worth while to do that," she answered.

While they were speaking, the sound of a hollow cough was heard in
the next room, and a feeble voice asked--

"Who is that?"

"That's John," said the elder woman, rising and going towards the
next room.

"Who is John? your little boy?" asked Ben.

"He was my little boy once, he's a big boy now, and he's very ill,
but that would be nothing if I knew he was happy."  She returned in a
minute, saying, "John wanted to see the children; he has always been
fond of children."  Mrs. Craig lifted Kit up into the next room, and
Ben followed.

The sick man lay on a little bed in one corner; everything around was
comfortable and neat, and a few flowers stood beside him in a tumbler
of water.  His face was sallow and sunken, and his dark hair, which
was long and straight, was brushed off his forehead; but he had a
pleasant, kindly smile, and he greeted the children warmly.

"I was always fond of little children," he said, shaking his head
from side to side, and speaking with difficulty, for his breath was
short and troublesome.  "The Lord said 'except ye become as little
children.'  I wish _I_ could do that."  He went on to speak to them
as well as he was able, asking them how they were caught in the
storm, and so on.

"They met Michael," said the mother, "and he sent them here.  Michael
has a kind heart though he speaks sternly when on duty."

Ben was standing by the window, and now and then casting anxious
glances out at the storm, which seemed to be subsiding.  Suddenly he
ran towards the door crying, "There's father passing."

And so it was; Mr. Gray, with rapid strides, was passing up the hill,
and heeding little the rain and storm.

"Call him in, he is looking for you, no doubt," said Mrs. Craig, and
Ben ran out and brought him in.  He, in his turn, was surprised, and
very thankful to find the children safe.

Ben's heart beat very quick at the thought of the perambulator, and
he anxiously waited the moment when he should speak of it.
Meanwhile, Mr. Gray, after hearing about the children, was having a
little talk with the mother, who was telling him about her sick son.




CHAPTER XI.

THE SICK MAN AND THE FALLEN FOE.

Mrs. Craig had taken a fancy to Gray at once.  Something in his
bright manly face had drawn out her confidence, and pointing to John
on his sick bed, she said--

"I wonder if you could cheer up my poor lad a bit; he's not so happy
as I would like."

"How's that?" he asked.  "Does he not know the One above as his
friend?"

"Ah, that's just what he wants, but you know the Lord, don't you? and
I've asked Him to send some one here to speak to John, and now He's
done it.  He's been a good son to me, and he's served the Lord too,
but he's not quite at peace now, you understand."

"How's that, my friend?" said Gray, sitting down at his bedside.
"The Lord surely is faithful?"

"He is faithful," slowly answered the sick man, "but I haven't
been--I was a wild one once, but I turned to the Lord--and I believe
I found the Saviour--and I tried to serve Him--and I taught the
young--I always loved the children--but something went wrong in the
Sunday School and I turned off, and after that I wandered from Him
somehow--I don't right know how.  I haven't been faithful to Him, and
I might have been a better son to _her_," pointing to his mother.

"Never heed that, John," said the mother, eagerly, "I've forgiven all
that.  You were always an obedient lad to me when you were at home."

"I must take the children away now, for the mother is anxious to hear
tidings of them, but I'll come in again and perhaps send a friend who
can speak to you better than I."

"We'll always make you welcome; be sure and come," said John,
anxiously.

"All right; I'll step in to-morrow and see how you are getting on.
Meantime, thank you for taking such kindly care of the children."

Harry Gray found it difficult to speak much about sacred things to
others, but on turning to leave, he said to John, "Remember, friend,
'The Rock never moves'; that's a comfort to me," and shaking hands
all round he started forth with the children.

The thought of the perambulator never occurred to Mr. Gray's mind,
but poor Ben had not forgotten it.  With a great effort he said--

"The coach is up by the wood, I think.  I couldn't find it when I
started in the storm, and I was afraid Kit would catch cold, so I
carried her to the lady's house as quick as I could, but I want to
run back to look for it.  Can I go?"

"Whew--w!  Let's hope the 'pram.' isn't lost, Ben.  You must have
been careless about it.  Yes, run back, the storm is over now, and
I'll come and meet you.  Mother couldn't part with it."

No need to tell Ben to run; he scampered away as quick as his legs
could carry him.

All the branches of the trees and hedges were dripping after the
recent shower, and the air was fresh and sweet.

In a few minutes he reached the gate leading to the meadow, and the
first object that met his eyes was the perambulator; the second
object, Jim, sitting beside a bush, pale and frightened, his eyes
swollen with crying.  He was moaning and holding his knees with both
hands, while he rocked backwards and forwards.

Ben bounded to the "coach" with an exclamation of surprise and
gladness, and seized the handle as if to secure it from Jim, while he
eyed him suspiciously.

"I suppose you interfered with Kit's carriage?" he cried, wheeling it
off.  "It was too bad, Jim, I had to carry her down the road.  What
did you do it for?"

"Stop that!" answered Jim, moaning again.  "I was just having a bit
of fun.  It was safe enough, if you had only used your eyes better.
Ah, dear! what will I do?"

Ben felt half inclined to run off with his recovered treasure, but a
better feeling prompted him to wait, and ask what was the matter.

At first Jim did not reply, but upon Ben coming up to him, and asking
if he were hurt, Jim broke down.

"I've hurt my knee, and I can't walk.  Mother'll want to know where I
am, and I shall never get home?"

"I could help you," said Ben; "put your arm in mine."

"It isn't a bit of good, I can't walk a step."

"Will you get in the coach?  It is a very strong one, and I'll wheel
you slowly," said Ben.

Jim hung his head sullenly.  It was a very humbling thing for him to
get on to Kit's carriage, and be pushed along by Ben, but it was the
only thing to be done, and, though he felt very much ashamed when he
remembered his past conduct, after pretending to object a little to
the plan, he allowed Ben to help him on to the perambulator.  It was
a good-sized double one, and so, without much difficulty, though
suffering a great deal of pain, he seated himself.

Very carefully did Ben wheel his vanquished enemy along, and very
different were the feelings of the boys.

"I'm glad I've got the 'coach,'" said Ben.  "Kit's mother _would_
have been greatly upset if it had a been lost or stolen."

"It would not have been lost or stolen," answered Jim, "I only
wheeled it back into the bushes for fun."

He did not say how the fun he had looked forward to, was to see the
children search in vain, and commence their homeward walk in distress.

"It wasn't _real_ fun," replied Ben.  "When did you get your knee
hurt?"

"I was up in a tree, and I fell down," he answered, shortly.  "You
won't sneak about it, will you?"

"No--no--o, but you had better tell the truth.  I will not say how
you vented your spite on Kit and me, but don't do it again, Jim.
Kit's a real nice little girl."

"No, I won't; that's truth for once; especially if you don't sneak on
me."

Jim did not tell how he climbed the tree to watch Ben's dismay at the
loss of the coach, neither did he tell how a vivid flash of lightning
alarmed him so that he hurried down too quickly and so fell on his
knee.  But he had been justly punished.

Harry Gray met them half way and guessed pretty much how matters
stood.  He spoke a word of stern, yet kindly warning to Jim, who was
heartily glad when he reached his own home.  He was carried in to
make the best of the adventure he could.  Ben, after a good tea, went
very happily to bed.




CHAPTER XII.

WHAT A LITTLE CHILD CAN DO.

Mrs. Frankham often passed Ben on the road to and from school, and
she always had a kindly smile for him, and sometimes a pleasant
cheering word.

"Are you still trying to be a brave little soldier?" she asked the
morning after the adventure in the wood.  And when Ben answered with
a nod--"Yes, ma'am, as hard as I can:" she replied--"That's right;
the Good Captain is watching, and it will be worth all the trouble
when we get His smile."

Ben gave her a pleased look.

"Please ma'am, I heard father say last night he wanted to speak to
you about going to see a poor man, who is ill and is not happy.  I
think he is going to die.  Do go and see him!"

"That I will most gladly: and will you go too?"

"If you'll let me," replied Ben, "I would like to go and take him
some flowers--he likes flowers."

"I will come in after dinner, and speak to mother about it, Ben.
By-the-bye, when does father come in--mid-day?"

"A quarter-past one till a quarter to two," replied the little boy.

"Very well, I will try to come then, and I shall bring some roses
with me."

At the appointed time Mrs. Frankham called at Wood Cottage, and heard
all that Harry Gray could tell about John Craig.

She was very much interested in the account of the family, and
started off with Ben to pay them a visit.  Mrs. Craig received her
visitors very gladly.

"I am so anxious that poor John should get peace and rest in his
Saviour, for I fear he has taken his father's complaint, and it may
be he will never rise from his bed again.  He is used to my words,
and though he listens he seems to get little good; but from you
perhaps the arrow will strike him."

"If the Lord guide it.  I trust He will give the right word, my
friend."

Mrs Craig led the lady and Ben into the neat little room, where John
lay, and after speaking a few kind words to the sick man, Mrs.
Frankham said "This little boy told me about you: he was so anxious I
should come and speak to you: he has brought you some flowers, for he
says you are fond of flowers."

"So I am," replied John, faintly, and eagerly taking them from Ben's
hand, he put them in a little glass, where the fragrant smell reached
him.  "I like little boys too, I am so fond of little children."

Ben sat on a stool near the bed, and the sick man scarcely took his
eyes off him for some minutes, not till he forgot everything else in
his desire to lay hold of the Words of Life.

"What I want," said he, "is some one to speak to me of the Saviour.
I have wandered from Him, and want to get back, if He will have me;
but I sometimes wonder if He will."

"You doubt His willingness.  Listen, His word says--'If we confess
our sins, _He_ is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and
cleanse us from _all_ unrighteousness' (1 John i. 9).  _He_ is
faithful.  We forget Him; He never forgets us.  It is sad to grieve
Him, but the only way is to confess it to Him, take a humble place
before Him, and He will pardon for His own name's sake."

"Tell me more; I see it plainer now," said John; and as he spoke a
fit of coughing racked his feeble frame.

Little Ben was sitting and watching first one and then the other
intently.

Mrs. Frankham continued, "In order to get rest and peace we need to
see that we were lost; could do nothing to save ourselves; but that
Jesus stretched out a strong arm to save us.  He undertook our cause,
and bore our sin in His own body on the cross.  _There_ God punished
sin.  _There_ Jesus put it away, and rose without it; and from heaven
He offers a free pardon to all who flee to Him--who put their trust
in Him."

A smile lighted up the face of the sick man, and he forgot himself
and his unfaithfulness, and began to praise the Saviour.  After a few
more words, Mrs. Frankham said--

"Can you rest in His love now?"

"Yes; I can," he replied.

"Don't look into yourself then, but fix your eye on Him.  Shall we
pray together before we part?"

"Yes, I was turning round for it," he said, trying to change his
position in the bed.

The lady prayed that Satan's fiery darts might be quenched by the
poor sufferer keeping up the shield of faith, and that his eye might
be fixed on Jesus.

Then Ben and she left, both promising to come back again the next
afternoon.

The little boy was much concerned about poor John, and very anxious
to know that he was going to live with Jesus in heaven.

Next morning he rose early, and going into the field, plucked a posy
of the best wild flowers he could, and then set off to Mrs. Craig's
cottage and left them with her, for poor John.

The old mother was delighted with the little boy's thoughtfulness,
and she asked him in to see her son, who was also glad to speak a few
kind words to Ben, and thank him heartily for the flowers.

"I should like something with a strong smell," he said.  "It
refreshes me."

Ben returned and searched the garden until he found a piece of
Southernwood, or "old man," as it is called.  Then, after school, he
watched for Mrs. Frankham, and, all excitement, he cried out as soon
as he saw her at the gate, "The poor sick man wanted a bit of
something sweet, and I've got a bit of 'old man.'  Come and see him.
Do come and tell him more; I want to see him again."

"I thought of going on a little farther first, Ben," she said
smiling; but as he urged her to go at once, she consented, and they
set off to the little red cottage.

Again a warm welcome was given, and John held the Southernwood
between his hands, that the scent might revive him, while Mrs. Craig
took Ben into the next room to show him some of John's attempts at
painting, of which the mother was very proud.  Mrs. Frankham told
John of Ben's anxiety to come and see him, and how he wanted to know
that his soul was safe.

The young man seemed much struck with the little child's desire, and
it greatly pleased him.

"Satan has been trying to tempt me to doubt, but my Saviour is near,
and now if it pleases Him to take me I am both ready and willing to
go."

He spoke of his own worthlessness, and the Saviour's love, and
pointed to a text which had been given him, "Whosoever will, let him
take the water of life freely" (Rev. xxii. 17).

He never doubted his Saviour's love and power again; instead, the
blessed name of Jesus was ever on his lips till he was called home
about a fortnight later.

Little Ben was very glad that John was gone to be with Jesus, and
after this he was a frequent visitor at Mrs. Craig's.  They liked to
have him there, and Michael took a great interest in the boy.  Many a
ramble did Ben get in the wood, by the gamekeeper's side; he knew how
to escape the traps he had once feared, and Michael liked to hear him
talk and repeat his little texts.  "Jesus Christ the same yesterday,
to-day, and for ever" (Heb. xiii. 8), was still a great favourite
with him.

Mrs. Craig did sorrow of course, but she was very glad and thankful
that her son had gone home so happily, and she was very grateful to
Mrs. Frankham for coming so many times to see him.  Harry Gray, and
his wife too, had stepped in several times and read passages from the
Word of God to him.  Michael was often away when the visitors called,
but the death of his brother had had a great effect on both him and
his wife, and they seemed anxious to hear the truth.




CHAPTER XIII.

A VISIT TO THE SEA.

One day in the end of August, a happy little party landed at a
sea-side place from one of the river steamers on the Thames.  The
children had never seen the sea before, and great had been the wonder
expressed as they ran about the deck of the steamer,--now watching
the rippling water, and the white foam caused by the paddle
wheels,--now throwing bits of bread to the birds as they followed in
the wake of the steamer.

The little party consisted of Mrs. Craig, Michael, his wife and three
children, and of Mr. and Mrs. Gray, Ben, Kit, and Harry.

Harry was now a fine, strong boy, and able to run about.

After they landed, the mother and children sat on the beach, while
Michael and Harry went in search of their lodgings.  Both families
had engaged rooms in the same row of cottages, and were within three
minutes' walk of each other and close to the sea.

Quite a friendship had been formed between them since John's death,
and when Harry Gray proposed a week's visit to the sea, they fell in
with it at once.  The fathers could only stay from the Saturday till
Wednesday, and return and fetch their families home, but all were in
high spirits at the prospect of a few days' holiday, and Ben and Kit
were not among the least delighted.

School discipline had very much improved Ben.  He had dropped his
rough words, was beginning to read very well, and could write a
little too, and Mr. Goodall promised to take him as his message boy
in October, if he continued to make progress.

Mr. Goodall had a shop of stationery, fancy goods, desks, work-boxes,
trinkets, and better class ornaments.  So Ben was very anxious to get
on with his lessons, and looked forward eagerly to again earning his
living.

Little Kit was fast losing her pale cheeks and thin limbs; a nice
colour often showed in her face, and her arms and hands were getting
quite plump and brown.  Her father and mother could scarcely bear her
out of their sight, she was the light of their eyes.  Ben was often
astonished at the fun and spirit she showed; though she was quiet and
gentle at times, yet occasionally she made them all merry with her
funny ways and lively pranks.

The morning after their arrival at the sea, the little party were
grouped upon the sand, the elder ones for the most part watching the
children's enjoyment, and helping them to build up sand-houses, make
heaps and holes, and fill their buckets with the salt water.  What a
change this for the two little ones who, for almost all their lives
had known no other pleasures than those to be found in Peters Street!
After a while the children--Ben, Kit, Willie, and Nellie Craig--ran
off to a piece of sand some little distance away, and the parents
began talking together.

They spoke of the one who was gone, and of his happiness with the
Lord Jesus.  The poor old mother shed some tears, but they were not
those of rebellion; she rejoiced to know that her son was beyond all
sorrow and pain, and she was glad not to have "to leave him behind
her," when her call came.  Michael being "off duty" had left his
"stern" look behind, and was much enjoying a lounge on the beach.  He
had felt the loss of his brother keenly, and had found great comfort
in the friendship of Harry Gray, who was able to point to "John's
Saviour."

The two young mothers found plenty to talk about, as they sat with
their babies beside them.  They spoke of past joys and sorrows, of
little ones gone before--for each had lost a child--and of the
different tempers and dispositions of those left under their care.

"We thought our Kittie had neither temper nor faults, for some time
after we found her, but now that her health is coming back, we find
out she is a bit quick like the rest."

"It is better they should have a little spirit, though it needs
checking," replied Mrs. Craig.

In the midst of their conversation they were startled by a cry from
Kit, and in a moment Michael and Harry were on their feet.  The
children had been busy digging, and had not noticed that the tide on
coming in had formed quite a little island of the piece of sand on
which they were playing.

When little Kit lifted her eyes and saw herself surrounded by water,
she was very frightened; and her sharp cry caused the two boys to
look up, and the two men to rise to their feet.  The water was
running quickly round the island of sand, and every instant reduced
it in size.  Harry Gray and Michael took off their boots as quickly
as possible, and ran to relieve the little company.  One caught up
Kittie and Willie, and the other, Nellie; Ben, who was tugging away
at his boots trying to get them off, waded through the water with
them; and by the time they reached dry land, the island had
disappeared.

"I fort we was going to be drowned, and never see you any more,
father," sobbed Kit, as she clung to his neck.

"No fear, my darling, while I am here," he answered.

"You will have to watch when the water comes in, children," said the
mother laughing, as she received Kit from her father; "and now I
think you had better all take off your shoes and socks, and wade in
the sea."

This proposal was quickly agreed to, and in a few minutes the
children were paddling away.  Kit and Willie were a little shy at
first, but soon got up their courage, and splashed away like the
little ones around them; and baby Harry had his little legs rubbed
with the salt water, and seemed quite to enjoy it.

Willie Craig was rather a rough little boy; he had been humoured and
spoilt by his mother while very small, and now she often found it
difficult to control him.  While wading, he filled his hands with
salt water and flung it over Ben.  The water ran down Ben's neck, and
he turned round with an annoyed face to tell Willie to stop.  But
Kit, who stood near, took it upon herself to correct Willie for
teasing her "bestest boy," and, to the surprise of all, leaned
forward and administered a hearty slap on Willie's back, but at the
same time she overbalanced herself and fell into the water.

Ben had her out in a moment, but all her clothes were wet, and little
Kit was very much frightened, both at what she had done to Willie and
the wetting she had got.  Her lip quivered with her sobs, and she was
in much distress.

"You are unfortunate this morning," said Michael, kindly.

"It will do her no harm," said her father, laughing.

"But Kittie was in a temper, I fear," added mother, "and that was the
cause of her fall."

Father opened his eyes very wide and whistled.  "Kittie in a temper!
That's something quite new.  What have little girls to do with
tempers?"

"Oh, nothing at all," said Mrs. Craig, "and I'm sure Kittie did not
mean it.  Willie is very rough at times."

Kit hung down her head and began to cry, and Ben, though he was very
much surprised to see her raise her little hand against anyone, yet
came at once to her help.  He put his arms round her.

"She didn't like to see me being splashed; she loves me that much,
for she had only me at one time, and she forgot it was wrong, didn't
you, Kit?  You'll see she'll make it up with him and be friends in a
minute."

Kit raised her blue eyes full of tears, and put up quivering lips to
kiss Willie Craig, who, in his turn, was quite ashamed.

And so Kit's first quarrel was made up, and her mother took her home
to change her clothes, for they were wet through.

"I didn't think Kit had such a spirit," said her father.  "It shows
she is getting stronger though," he added, with some satisfaction.

"Does it?" asked Ben, eagerly.  "Hoor-ay!" and he went head over
heels along the sand, to the amusement of the rest of the party.

They spent an hour or two during the afternoon in an open boat on the
sea.  The children dipped their hands in the water, while Harry and
Michael sang to them, and then they all joined in a hymn, and enjoyed
the sweet sea-breeze which fanned their faces as the sun began to
sink in the sky.




CHAPTER XIV.

A SUNDAY EVENING AT THE SEA-SIDE.

On Sunday evening as they were taking a stroll, they observed a
little crowd of people collected on the green sward above the cliffs.

On drawing near they found that a young man was reading from the Word
of God.  The little party of women and children seated themselves on
a grassy mound to listen, while Harry and Michael stood among the
people.  With a clear distinct voice the preacher sounded forth the
words, "Seek ye the Lord while He may be found; call ye upon Him
while He is near!" (Isaiah lv. 6).  "Behold, now is the accepted
time, behold now is the day of salvation" (2 Cor. vi. 2).

Then closing the book he spoke to the young around him, those in
health and strength.  He told them Christ was waiting to save them in
patient grace.  He was offering them salvation without money and
without price, for He had paid the debt they owed to a holy God.

He told them they were sinners and not fit to stand before God
without being washed in the blood of Christ.  "But," he added, "the
blood has been shed, and God offers you a free pardon to-day, if you
will put your trust in it."

After he had invited his hearers, lovingly and earnestly, to cast
themselves on Jesus just as they were, he began to show them what the
consequences would be if they refused.  "The Lord Jesus will Himself
shut mercy's door one day," he said, "and then if you refused Him
while in life and health, it will be TOO LATE.  You will have to
stand and knock at that closed door and cry, 'Oh, let me in; Lord,
Lord, open to me,' and He will answer, 'I never knew you, depart from
me.'  There will be no hope for you then, though you cry ever so
loud, or ever so long, and nothing will be left for you but
ever-lasting woe.  'Behold!  NOW is the accepted time; behold, NOW is
the day of salvation.'"  Then he went on to say that once a vessel
was wrecked in a dreadful storm, and the captain and his wife were
cast upon a small rock not far from land.  They knew that unless they
were soon rescued they must perish, for the waves were rising higher
and higher, and would soon sweep them from the rock.  They were,
however, discovered, and strong men threw out a rope to help them,
which the captain tied round his wife's waist, and showed her at a
given signal she must leap upon the wave and it would bear her in to
shore--that the sailors would be able to draw her to land.

It was her only chance.  But she did not embrace it.  Her husband
urged her to leap, but she let the right moment go past, and leaped
upon the wave when past, being engulfed by the one following it, and
so was dashed upon the rock and killed.

Again the speaker urged his hearers to beware of letting the present
moment pass.  "You may not see another, or Satan may pluck the good
seed out of your heart as you turn away from this spot.  'Seek ye the
Lord while He may be found; call ye upon Him while He is near.'"

Many who listened were deeply stirred.  Some had never been so urged
before to come to Jesus, and little children (for little children are
always foremost in a crowd) turned up grave and eager faces to the
speaker.  Then he said a word to them.  He told them that the Saviour
loved the little ones, and had invited them to come to Him; that
Jesus had said "Suffer little children and forbid them not, to come
unto Me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven" (Matt. xix. 14).

The three little ones listened very attentively, and the elder folk
were much solemnized.  Some that stood there had tasted a Saviour's
pardoning love, and to them the gospel words were sweet.  Others had
never, till lately, thought seriously over these things, and now
conscience was speaking loudly, and the little word "now" rung in
their ears.

Along the cliffs and past the corn fields the Craigs and Grays wended
their way.  The setting sun threw bright golden and crimson rays on
all around, while the ocean lay calm as a lake beneath them.  Little
Ben and Kit had never seen such a lovely sight, and as they walked
along hand in hand they wondered "how heaven could be more beautiful
than this."

A day or two after the scene was completely changed, however.
Driving rain fell, a chill east wind blew, the sky was cloudy, and
the sea was rough.  In heaven, however, chilly blasts and clouds will
never come, "for the former things are passed away" (Rev. xxi. 4);
there it will be an endless summer of love and joy.




CHAPTER XV.

KITTIE IN TROUBLE.

A year has gone.  Autumn has come again, and changes have taken place
during that time at Wood Cottage.  A little baby sister arrived for
Kittie, and she was very happy in the possession of her new treasure.
Baby Ella was now three months old, and Kittie often held her in her
arms for a few minutes, when mother was busy.  Harry was now at the
age when he was continually in mischief; but he dearly loved his
sister Kittie, and was a nice little playmate for her.

Ben had been nine months at Mr. Goodall's as shop and message boy,
and was getting on well.  He earned sufficient to keep himself in
clothes now.

But there had been an anxious time, too, at Wood Cottage; for one day
the father had been injured at the wood-yard, and had been brought
home in a cab, with a broken leg, and a slight cut on his head.

This happened about six weeks after baby Ella's birth, and it was
quite a shock to Mrs. Gray; for the cab drove up to the garden gate
while she was hanging out some clothes.  Two men lifted her husband
out, and his white pale face filled her with dismay.

But the doctor assured her his injuries were not dangerous, and with
care he would be back at work in six weeks' time.

Every care was bestowed on him; but six weeks had passed, and he was
not able to resume his work yet, for he had sustained a shock that it
was not easy to get over.  Ben wheeled a large chair into the garden
every morning after breakfast when fine, and here the father sat,
well wrapped up, for an hour or two in the sunshine.  He was very
anxious to get back to his work, and hoped to be able to do so in
another week.  Meanwhile, Ben was a great help at home.  As soon as
he was back from his work, he would throw off his jacket, and turn
his hand to anything that eased the mother.

He was not above doing many things to aid her in the house; and she
looked forward gladly to the time he could return of an evening, for
he could nurse Baby Ella, and wash and dress Harry or put him to bed;
and when the evenings were fine, he took them very nice rambles,
while Mrs. Gray got on with her sewing.

One day Harry Gray had been limping slowly up and down the garden,
and then sat down at the further end on a log of wood which lay there.

After a few minutes he heard a sharp cry, and turning his head saw
Kittie and Harry rolling on the ground by the kitchen door.  They had
evidently had a fall.  He could not rise quickly, so the mother was
first on the spot.  She raised the children up, and found that Harry
had cut his forehead and hurt his knee, while Kittie had only grazed
her arm.

"This comes of disobedience," said Mrs. Gray, gravely, looking at
Kittie as she led her, and carried the little boy into the house.

"What is it all about?" asked the father.

"Kittie has been disobedient," she answered, as she soothed Harry's
cries and prepared to bathe his forehead.

"I am sorry for that; come and tell me about it, Kittie."

Kittie was sobbing piteously and holding her arm.  It was two or
three minutes before she could reply:

"Mother told me not to lift Harry, and I tried to carry him down the
steps, and we both toppled down."

"You see, father, Kittie is always trying to carry Harry, and he is
far too heavy for her, and they have fallen once or twice.  This
morning I forbade her to do it again, but she has disobeyed, and you
see the consequence.  I told her I should punish her if she lifted
him again; and, as she has done so, she must take her tea alone
to-night; and see how poor Harry is hurt, too!"

"How came you to be so disobedient, Kittie?" asked her father.

"I forgot, father, and I wanted to lift him down the steps," sobbed
the little girl.

"But you said that before, Kittie.  Little girls must not forget.
Perhaps father will take little Harry up the garden now; you had
better stay here, we cannot speak to you till after tea."

Father looked lingeringly back as he led Harry away, but he knew
mother was right, and Kittie had been growing rather thoughtless
lately; so he only said, "I am sorry."

Of course Kittie was very miserable, and she did not know how to keep
quiet.  "Mother, speak to me; don't look grave," she kept saying, and
when she found her mother did not answer, she said, "and I s'pose God
is angry too, and now there is a black spot made on my heart.  What
shall I do?"

"I am not _angry_, Kittie," replied her mother, "only very sorry, and
you know what washes sin away, you know Whom to go to.  But I cannot
talk to you now."

"I am going to tell Jesus all about it, mother.  Can I kneel down?"

"Oh! yes," replied her mother.  So Kittie slipped off her chair and
sobbed and prayed, and her mother caught the words, "Wash me, and I
shall be whiter than snow."




CHAPTER XVI.

BEN'S PRESENT.

Soon Ben came in, and missing the little girl at the gate, cried,
"Where's Kittie?"  Mrs. Gray looked towards the chair where she sat,
and Kittie's tear-stained face told the story.

"You haven't been naughty, have you.  O Kit!  What is it, mother?"

"She has been lifting Harry again, and both have fallen, and he has
got hurt.  You've heard me tell her not, Ben, many times; now she has
to sit there and no one is to speak to her, and"--Mrs. Gray
hesitated.  She dreaded carrying out the rest of the punishment.

"And me's to have tea all alone," cried Kit.

"Oh! what a pity!" said Ben, "O mother! isn't she sorry enough?"

"She is sorry, I believe; but you must not beg her off, Ben," and
Mrs. Gray made ready a plate of bread and butter and a mug of milk
and carried them into the other room, saying, "Come, Kittie."

Kittie followed, and Ben looked very forlorn.  Mrs. Gray put her up
at the table in the little sitting room.

"Do you love me?" asked Kittie.

"Dearly," said her mother.

"Now?" she asked again in surprise.

"Yes, now."

"When I'm naughty?"

"Yes, but's it's a sorrowful kind of love."

"Then, I'll never be naughty any more," said Kittie, clasping her
mother's neck.

"I hope not, darling," said the mother.  "Have you asked God to help
you to be obedient?"

"Yes, and to 'wash me whiter than snow,' and He's done it, hasn't He,
mother?"

"He has, dear.  He always answers when we pray aright.  Now you must
take your tea quietly, and then come and get a kiss from father."

"Have you _fordiven_ me?" asked the little girl anxiously.

"I have, dear."

"Is she all right, mother?" asked Ben eagerly.

"Quite," answered the mother, with fast-filling eyes, "but I thought
you were going to make some toast, Ben?"

"So I was, but I can't do a thing when Kit isn't happy.  You know I
never could," bending down to kiss baby in her cradle.

They gathered round the tea table, but Ben ate nothing.  After a few
minutes he asked, "How long is Kittie to stay there?"

"Till she has finished her tea," said mother, with a longing look at
the other door, which stood open, and from inside of which they heard
deep drawn sighs.

"May I see if she has finished?" asked Ben, starting up.

"I think he might, dear," added the father.

Ben was off in a twinkling.

"The boy is eating nothing, and we've kept our word," added Gray.

"So we have, and she's very sorry.  She may come now."

"Kittie not hurt me again, she not mean it," lisped Harry.

"Have you finished your tea, Kittie?" asked Ben.

"Yes, it's all done," she answered, eyeing Ben to see what he thought.

"And you are sorry, Kittie.  You won't try and lift Harry again, not
till you are bigger, because mother says 'no,' and mother knows what
is best."

"I'll try and never be naughty not any more, Ben."

"It grieves Jesus, you know?"

"Yes, and makes black stains on my heart, but this one is washed
away, Ben; I asked Him to make me whiter 'an snow, so it's gone."

"I'm so glad; now come and kiss father, and I'll show you something."

Father was only too glad to give the kiss, and then Ben brought out a
present for Kit, and handed her a neat little testament.

"I've got one, too; you see, I've been working extra hard lately, and
Mr. Goodall has been more about the shop, because its 'stock-taking,'
so to-day he called me in, and told me to choose a book for myself,
and I said 'a testament for Kit, please,' so he gave me these
two--one for each of us."

Kittie was delighted, and felt the responsibility too, of having
God's Word in her possession.

"Please write our names in, and a text," said Ben, "and put in Kit's
'with Ben's best love.'"

"And put in Ben's 'with Kit's best love,'" echoed Kittie.

"Yes, do?" added Ben.

The father wrote, in both books, their names and a text.  In Kittie's
it was, "Jesus said, 'Suffer little children to come unto Me'" (Matt.
xix. 14), and in Ben's, "Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day,
and for ever" (Heb. xiii. 8).

And now we must say "Good-bye" to the little ones.  Ben worked hard
at his place and earned his master's esteem, and he knew no greater
pleasure than to bring home his wages to his kind guardians.  He had
many a difficulty to face, but he learned to look up and depend upon
One who was ever ready to help him.  His own father, Rogers, was lost
at sea about two years after he resumed his sea-faring life, and so
Ben ever looked upon Mr. and Mrs. Gray as his parents after this.
The love that sprung up between him and little Kit, when in poverty,
continued unabated, and he was proud, as time went on, to make her
many a nice present, while she learned to sew and mend for him.

I am sorry to say Jim Snow did not improve much.  True, he did not
tease Ben any more, but he went with bad companions, and one Sunday
he and two other lads were drowned in the river, while boating.

This had a great effect on Ben, and made him shun idle boys, while he
thought much on that verse which Miss Randolphe gave him as a
remembrance: "To him that _overcometh_, will I give to eat of the
tree of life, which is in the midst of the Paradise of God." (Rev.
ii. 7).  He found kind and lasting friends in the Craigs, and the old
lady, especially, always made him welcome, while Michael and his wife
showed an increasing interest in the things of God.  The occupants of
the little red cottage and those of Wood Cottage became fast friends,
and many happy evenings were spent at both cottages.  On these
occasions the hard times of early days would often be recalled and
their praises would ascend to the Lord Jesus for His great love to
them in giving Himself to save them from sin and for all His interest
in their eternal welfare and His watchfulness over their lives while
down here.  They had all trusted in Jesus and were indeed

SHELTERED AT LAST.









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