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 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 for nice rambles, while Mrs. Gray got out her sewing.
One day Harry Gray had been limping slowly up and down the garden, and then sat down at the further end of 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 tonight; 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. I 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 so sober," 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.”