There was a happy little tea party that evening. Susan made tea, and the children sat round the table. May, with a smiling face, perched in her high chair. She was beginning to talk quite a lot now, and many a laugh they had over her funny speeches to "Soo" as she called Susan. Jenny also had an easy time of it, and listened from her side table to all that went on.
"I wonder whether Jenny loves Jesus," asked Robin. "She did not thank Jesus for her food. I wish everybody in the world loved Him. I know, when I am a man, I'll go and preach in all the oldest, dirtiest places I can find, till all the people know about Him."
"Why will you go to old, dirty places?" asked Rose.
"Just because people who live there don't hear so much, and perhaps they never hear at all."
"You need not wait till you are grown up to speak of Jesus, Robin. If you love and trust Him, you may very gently speak to other little children of Him, of His death, and rising again."
"Oh, I will," answered Robin, "I'll tell them of Jesus."
"Only remember you must be careful first to let others see you love Him, by being gentle, obedient, and kind."
"I do try, try, try," cried the little fellow, "but you don't expect me always to be quite good, do you, Susan?"
"I expect you to try to be."
Just as they were finishing tea, in walked their uncle.
"Ah, your aunt has gone to take tea with Mrs. Parker, so you little mice are at play when the cats are away," and he ran to catch hold of them.
In a few minutes it ended in a hearty game of play, May running away boldly with the rest. At last the farmer, out of breath, sank down on the floor, pretending to be exhausted, and the children were soon on top of him, one on his shoulders, another astride, and May on his feet. Such shoutings and merry cries were seldom heard in the kitchen, while even Jack laughed at the children's antics. Jack was at school, or on the farm all day, and his father took care that he did not interfere much with the children. Only occasionally an attack or quarrel on his part took place as they were not much thrown together.
"I want you, Susan, to go up to Mrs. Price, on the hill — Widow Price I mean, and take her a bit of beef and some eggs. Her child is ill, and I hear she is in great need. I met Jenny's grannie, and she was telling me, so go at once. I'll settle with your mistress. Her husband was a good laborer of mine, and it wouldn't do for her child to die of hunger."
"Yes, Sir, I will. Come along, children, we'll go at once. Jenny, you keep house till we get back," said Susan willingly.
"No fear about the house. I'm going to get a rest. Take your time; May will keep me company."
Up the hill they went, and reached a little thatched cottage at the top, on the right hand side. They crossed a little rickety bridge, and tapped at the low wooden door.
"Come in," cried someone from inside, and the three stepped over the little wooden doorstep, which was worm-eaten and uneven. Then came the brick floor, with one or two holes here and there. The furniture was bare enough. In one corner stood the wooden bedstead, with a patchwork quilt, then a wooden box, and two or three wooden chairs, an old bureau, also worm-eaten, a small table, a clock, a cupboard, and that was all. On the mantelshelf was a collection of miscellaneous articles — two shepherdesses, in white crockery, leaning on their crooks, and a very ugly figure of a fat man, with bright waistcoat and trousers, made to hold a little box. Then there were one or two portraits in little frames, a gaudy vase, a dusty shell box, and one or two colored motto cards pinned against the wall.
A careworn woman rose as they entered, and Lucy slid down from the bed, where she had been sitting.
On the bed, pale and thin, lay Tommy Price, his hair brushed from his forehead, and his little arm flung outside the bed. He looked as if a puff of wind would blow him away, as he lay asleep with his eyes closed.
"Good evening, Mrs. Price," said Susan kindly, as she entered, holding Robin by the hand. "Master was telling us that your Tommy was ill, and sent us to ask about him."
"He does seem very strange these three days," she answered. "He took to his bed yesterday, and doesn't seem to care to get about."
"What's wrong with him, Mrs. Price?"
"I can't exactly say. It seems to me he's taken his father's illness, tuberculosis. One thing is, he needs better food than I can give him. Lucy isn't strong either. I don't think I can bring her up she looks kind of sickly. The trouble down here is enough to break one's heart."
"Come, cheer up, Mrs. Price, Master has sent you a good nourishing bit of fresh beef and some new-laid eggs, and if you send Lucy with a can in the morning, she'll bring back some new milk for your boy, and he'll soon pick up again, let's hope."
"Well now, Susan, that is a kindness," said the poor woman, the tears running down her cheeks. "And it is the Lord who sent you. He is a present help in trouble. I have been praying to Him, for I haven't got a bite fit for Tommy in the house. I was boiling a few tea leaves over for Lucy and me to soak some bread in, and beside a bit of flour for a dumpling, the cupboard is bare. I hope to earn a bit tomorrow, and a comfort is, I paid my rent up with harvest money, so I don't owe anything, but I hardly like to leave Tommy alone unless he is better."
"You have learned to look to the Lord for salvation, have you not, Mrs. Price? Since you belong to Him, He will be your support and comfort. All power is with Him. Don't you remember, Miss Rowland was telling us to have more faith in God. It is honoring to Him to trust Him in trouble."
"Ay, I do, and I know the Lord will provide."
"Yes, He who gave His Son, loves us perfectly. See, Robin, poor little Tommy is waking up. Are you not sorry for him?"
"Robin is a fine boy. I would like to see my poor little lad with such a healthy face. But Tommy loves his class, and he likes to hear about the Saviour. He tells me what Mr. Rowland talks about on Sundays, and he said the other day, `Mother, suppose some day I should go to sleep at night, and you should speak to me in the morning, and I do not answer, and you find I had gone to 'sleep in Jesus!' He heard Mr. Rowland telling about it one afternoon. I asked, 'Well, Tommy, what then?' And he said, 'I would be with Jesus.' But how do you know, Tommy?' `Because He died for me, to take me to heaven,' he answered. I'm sure if Mr. Rowland knew he were ill he would come to see him."