“I’ll tell Miss Bland the news. She’ll be surprised. And what will the girls say? They’ll be jealous.”
The speaker, a bright, intelligent girl of twelve, was on her way to school, accompanied by her sister, two years younger. A casual observer would have said there could be no relation whatever between the two, for they were so strikingly different.
Ethel, the older, was tall, with a bright color in her face and a strong healthy body, every movement of which suggested perfect health. Occasionally she gave her hair, which hung loosely over her shoulders, an impetuous toss. An observant person would have had no difficulty in guessing her to be quick, fearless, and maybe hasty-tempered. Ethel was all that. Yet she was sensitive and had a lovable disposition.
Jessie looked as though she were several years younger, though there were barely two years between their ages. Her slow, plodding movements suggested that she was not easily excited. Those who didn’t know her well often mistook her shy, shrinking way for a sullen disposition. But that wasn’t true. Underneath the unpromising exterior much sweetness and gentleness were hidden. Naturally delicate, ill-health had clung to her throughout her young life.
Often a feeling of bitterness arose in Jessie as she watched her sister being admired for brightness and intelligence, which were due to that buoyancy of health she didn’t have. She was young, but she understood why her sister was admired and she wasn’t. It hurt.
On this bright spring morning, as they walked along together to Miss Bland’s Academy, happy thoughts were filling each of the girl’s minds. Ethel, bubbling with excitement, skipped along the path and burst out, “I shall tell Miss Bland the news.”
“Oh, Ethel, I wish you would let me this time! You always tell everything.”
“Well, you can, Jessie, but you are so slow, and while you’re thinking what to say, it comes out. I don’t mean to be the chatterbox Papa says I am.”
Three girls, swinging their school bags, joined them, interrupting their conversation. One of them, two years older than Ethel, glancing sideways, sensed at once their excitement.
“What’s this wonderful piece of news you two are discussing? I know there’s some secret.”
“It’s no secret, but it’s good news,” responded Ethel. “We have a new brother; our Papa told us this morning. But we haven’t seen him yet.”
The girls quickly clustered round. This was news.
“Well, I never! What’s his name? No wonder you two look so happy,” spontaneously cried the girls. They all knew how delighted their companions would be, who had so often wished for a baby to hold and hug.
As they continued on their way, happily chatting over this wonderful event, poor little Jessie remained silent. She thought: It was Ethel who answered all the questions. Always Ethel first. Why is she always sought after, always the one who has the pleasure of imparting any piece of news to our school friends? And not only with them, but she is the favorite of the teacher too. She lets her do whatever she wants.
A shadow gathered on Jessie’s pale face. The shadow was not caused by the brightness of the morning, for it was one of those clear, exhilarating March days. In the deep blue sky a few loose clouds were driven swiftly along by the wind.
Out in the country on the long white roads, the dust would swirl up to envelop anyone it chanced to meet. “Worth a guinea a bushel,” the farmers would say of the dust. Those who had to trudge through it and were covered by it could be forgiven for their less enthusiastic remarks.
The dust didn’t bother the girls. They were not on a country road, but were walking within a few miles of the great city of London. The most the March winds could do was to gather up loose fragments of paper and dump them in some out-of-the-way corner, and shake the children’s hair over their faces, making rosy cheeks rosier still.
But the wind could not chase away the bitterness that darkened little Jessie’s heart that morning and produced the shadow on Jessie’s face. When they had started out, her heart was bursting with joy. Now gloom was crushing it.
Miss Bland received the news with almost as much enthusiasm as the girls, and it was Ethel who told her. Afterwards she walked home with two of the older students, calling on a distant relative of her mother’s, who lived a mile or more from the school, to announce the important event.
Jessie, meanwhile, had struggled through her studies with her mind partly divided between gladness in the thought of the new baby and sorrow that, come what might, she was always behind. Only yesterday the teacher herself had said so. It was her remarks that had triggered Ethel’s comments on the subject on their way to school. Ethel did not mean to be unkind, but how true are the often-quoted lines:
“Evil is wrought by want of thought
As well as want of heart.”
Jessie walked home alone. She crossed through Wandsworth Park. Into its open spaces the brisk March wind brought pleasant smells from the meadowland that lay miles beyond. The park was ablaze with yellow gorse just bursting into full bloom. The gardens of the homes scattered along the edges of the park were bright with crocuses and aconite, alternating with a few late snowdrops.
Before she reached home all traces of ill-humor had entirely disappeared, for Jessie was not a child to harbor any bitter feelings toward her sister, whom she passionately loved. Just as she reached the gate of the small front garden that separated their house from the roadway, her father came up.
“Hello, my little girl. Where’s Ethel? I see you are alone as usual.”
His tone was especially kind, for Mr. Clarke’s business had been profitable that afternoon. Besides, he was rejoicing in the birth of his son and heir, though his new treasure was only twenty-four hours old.
“Ethel has gone to see Miss Baker. You said she was take her the good news today,” responded Jessie.
“Oh, yes, and what did Miss Bland say? Of course you told her. Ah, honey, you tell all the news,” and her father pinched her cheek as he spoke.
Jessie looked down and did not speak. She knew her father was teasing her, and a flush, slight though it was, rose to her cheeks. Passing in, she went straight upstairs. Before she reached her room, Jessie stood hesitantly at the door of her mother’s bedroom. She listened intently. All was perfectly quiet, and her heart beat faster as she thought, Oh, if I might only go in.
Just then, the door opened softly. Mrs. Carter, a motherly-looking woman, came out, carrying a tray in her hands. She was surprised by the sight of the shy wistful face that shrunk away from her as though caught in the act of doing something wrong.
“Well, my dear child, how you startled me! Would you like to go in and have a peep at your brother?”
There was no need of an answer; her whole face lighted up.
“May I, nurse? Oh, may I?”
“Yes dear, if you don’t make a noise, but speak in a whisper. Your dear mamma has been asking whether you or your sister were home. She thought you would want to see the baby.”
Mrs. Carter walked away, and Jessie, going in softly, almost on tiptoe, met her mother’s smile. She pointed to a nearly invisible little bundle of white that lay covered up completely in a cradle by the fireplace.
Jessie kissed her mother and whispered, “I’m so glad. May I kiss the baby now?”
“Yes, dear; only cover his face up again. He is not very old yet, my darling.”
She stooped down by the pretty cradle of blue and white muslin. She set aside the soft, white, woolly blankets, to disclose a little round head almost as bare as the tiny pink face, with one miniature fist resting beside it.
“Oh, how lovely. Our very own baby,” Jessie softly exclaimed. “I wish he would open his eyes.”
As if the sound of her voice had penetrated those perfect little ears, two blue eyes looked up into her face as if to say, “Who are you?”
“You precious darling. How we will love and take care of you.” Jessie covered the poor little fellow with kisses, which resulted in a prolonged wail which quickly brought Mrs. Carter into the room.
“Now, now, my beauty, is this the way you speak to your sister?” she exclaimed and soothingly covered him up. It had the desired effect of causing his eyes to close, and left the baby peacefully sleeping as before.
Jessie would like to have stayed with her mother, but the nurse said it was time to go. She said good-night and prepared to leave the room as her father arrived at the door.
“I suppose I may come in and have a look at my boy since he’s awake,” said Mr. Clarke.
“No, Papa; he’s sound asleep,” said Jessie.
“What! Didn’t I hear him trying to talk just now? Well never mind, we won’t disturb the little man again,” said Mr. Clarke, as the nurse prepared to pick him up from his cradle.
“What do you think of your brother, Jessie?”
“Oh, he’s lovely, Papa. What will his name be?”
Mr. Clarke glanced across at his wife and, winking at her, he said, “We shall have to call him Jumbo, for look how big he is.”
Mrs. Clarke smiled, but Jessie interrupted, seriously saying, “Don’t let that be the name. It isn’t at all pretty.”
“Oh, then we’ll have to find something more aristocratic than that, won’t we, Dora?” And kissing his wife affectionately he left the room.
As Jessie started to follow him, her mother called her to her side. “My child, we must thank God for this beautiful gift, but do you know of something greater that He has given?” asked Mrs. Clarke.
Jessie answered softly, “The gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.”
“Yes,” responded her mother, “so we will ask God that our dear little one will receive that best gift, eternal life.”
Jessie hung her head. She knew the “old, old story” well, yet she had not received it into her own heart. Before she lay down that night, she expressed a fervent wish that some day that gift might be her own. She did not seem to realize that God wanted her, that very night, to receive the gift of eternal life.
Ethel got home late. She was annoyed when she found that Jessie had seen the new baby, but that she must wait. She was told that her mother was asleep and that she would have plenty of time to look at her little brother in the morning. She didn’t want to wait; she wanted to see him right that minute.