IT is never easy to be patient, and as days and weeks and even months went by, and Faith heard nothing of her father, sometimes her faith failed her. She wondered if, after all, God would answer her prayer. But Mrs. Fraser always cheered her, and encouraged her, and told her she must be willing to wait God's time.
The child was very happy in Mrs. Fraser's house, and day by day she was becoming more useful as a servant. Ellen had great pleasure in teaching her to do all kinds of house-work, and in training her in habits of neatness and order.
The six months during which Mrs. Fraser had promised to keep her were almost ended, but the old lady did not seem at all inclined to look out for a situation for Faith. She told the minister that the child was too young to go amongst strangers and to do hard work, and that she would like to keep her in her own house, to pay her wages, and to train her until she was older and stronger. Faith was very thankful when she heard of this kind offer, for she was quite sure that she would never be so happy anywhere as she was in Mrs. Fraser's house; all went on so peacefully and happily there from day to day. The mistress was thoughtful and considerate for the comfort of her servants, and the servants loved their kind mistress, and would not have grieved her for the world. Every morning and night they prayed together, and took their wants, and sins, and sorrows, to the Lord in prayer.
Ellen found in Faith a very willing little helper in her work. She never idled away her time, but did her work cheerfully and well. When she was sent on an errand she went as quickly as she could, and never stopped to talk or gossip on the way.
One bright September morning, just six months after Faith had come to live with Mrs. Fraser, Ellen sent her to a shop at some little distance from home to buy something that was needed for dinner.
It so happened that, in order to get to this shop, Faith had to pass down the market-place. It was so strange to see everything there looking just the same as it did in the days when she and her father used to stand behind the toy-stall three times a week. The country people were hurrying past as usual; the sweets stall and the gingerbread stall were still surrounded by children; the stocking man, the boot-lace man, and the basket man were still loudly calling to the passers-by to come and examine their wares.
Faith stopped for a moment before the place where her father's stall had stood. A new toy-stall was there in its place, and a man was standing behind it, and his little girl was helping him to sell his goods, just as she had always helped her father.
“I wonder if they have taken much to-day?" said Faith to herself.
The little girl looked pale and tired, she thought, and the man did not seem to be in very good spirits.
Faith had sixpence of her own in her pocket, and she determined to spend it at the stall. Perhaps they would be as glad as she and her father would have been, on one of those long, tiring days which now seemed so far away. So she went up to the stall and bought a new sixpenny comb.
The little girl smiled, and seemed so pleased to get the sixpence, that Faith went on with a light and happy heart.
She had nearly passed the old church when she heard someone calling her, and, looking round, she saw the owner of the basket stall waving his arms, and heard him calling “Faith " at the top of his voice. She ran to him at once to see what he wanted.
“Here, my lass," said the man, “have you ever heard aught of your father?”
“No," said little Faith, “not a word."
“Well," said he, “my Matty said as she saw him go by the other day."
“Oh, where? “cried little Faith, “where did she see him ? Was it here?”
“Oh, no," said the man, as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Matty won't never come here no more; you remember Matty, don't you?”
“Is she your little girl that used to come with you?" said Faith.
“Ay," he said, the same; but she's very badly now; she'll never come no more, so the doctor says”
“I’m so sorry," said little Faith.
“Would you mind telling me where she saw my father?”
“She saw him pass the window. I was out at the stall, but when I came in, Father,' she says, I saw the toy-stall man, who used to be next to us, go by today; he must live somewheres here.' She never forgets folks' faces, doesn't Matty. Go and see her; she'll tell you all about it."
He told Faith where he lived, and then she hurried on to make up for lost time.
Was her prayer really going to be answered at last? It was a very happy thought, and it was with a very bright face that she carried the good news to Mrs. Fraser. The old lady was very glad to hear it, though she told Faith not to be too sure that by this means she should find her father, but to believe that even if it did not come now, still God's answer to her prayer would not stop away a single day after God's time came.
That afternoon Mrs. Fraser gave Faith leave to go to Trundle Street, where little Matty lived, that she might hear all that the child could tell her.
It was a dark, dismal street, full of high houses let off in rooms, and was very much like Belfry Row, Faith's old home. The room to which the basket man had directed her to go to was on the ground floor, on the left-hand side of the door.
Faith knocked gently, and a voice within said: “Come in; they are all out but me."
So Faith opened the door and went in. It was a low, dark room, and, at first, Faith could hardly see who or what was in it. There was not much furniture, but the room was almost filled with baskets of various sizes and shapes and colors, so that there was very little space to move about in it.
On a bed, close to the window, a little girl was lying. She was propped up with pillows, so that she could see what was passing in the street. She was about Faith's age, or a little older, but she was so very thin and small that Faith could easily have carried her. When the door was first opened she coughed very much, and seemed in much pain.
“Why, it's Faith," she said, as soon as she could get her breath. “I remember you at the stall. How did you know where we lived? "
“Your father told me," said Faith. “He said you had seen my father go by, and I wanted to hear about it, because I can't find him anywhere."
“Yes," said Matty; “it was yesterday that he went by; he's never been past before, because I see every one that goes by from my window. He had a breakfast-tin in his hand, and it was just about seven o'clock in the evening."
“Are you quite sure? “said little Faith.
“Yes, quite sure," said Matty,” as sure as sure can be. There isn't a many men as have only got one arm, and I know his face so well, too."
“I wonder if he'll come again?” said Faith, trembling with excitement.
“If he does, Matty, do you think you could rap at the window and stop him, and tell him where I live, and how much I want to find him ? "
“Ay! I'll do that," said Matty;” it's nice to be able to do anything for any one."
“Yes," said little Faith; " it must be dreadful to lie still all day. Are you always alone, Matty?
“Yes, till father comes in," she said. “But I tidies the room up, and makes all nice before he goes. He puts all ready for me on this little table close beside me, and Mrs. Evans, who lives upstairs, comes in sometimes. She is very good; she boils my kettle on her fire."
“But you must be very lonely," said Faith.
“Oh, not so very lonely," said Matty. “I’ve got my books;” and she pulled out two or three well-read books from under her pillow; “and then you know, Faith," she added in a lower tone, “Jesus never goes away."
“Do you love Him?" asked little Faith.
“Yes," said Matty, " very much: but I didn't love Him before I was ill. I was in Miss Carter's class in the Sunday-school, and, oh! how she did talk to us about coming to Jesus, and loving Jesus, and I never listened much ; but when I was ill, then I thought about it all. Miss Carter often comes to see me, and she lends me such beautiful books, and she talks to me so nice when she comes."
“Will you never be any better?” asked Faith.
“Never any better till I die," said Matty; " I shall be quite well then. Miss Carter found me the verses; I'll read you them. I put a marker in the places. This is the first; it's in Isaiah: And the inhabitant' (that means the people that live in heaven) shall not say, I am sick: the people that dwell therein shall be forgiven their iniquity.' Miss Carter says that last bit is the best part of all. And here's the other; it's in Revelation:
There shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.' Isn't that a good thing?"
“Yes, very," said Faith. “How soon do you think you'll go there, Matty?”
“I don't know," said the child; “the doctor didn't say. I would like to go very soon. I should like to go to-day, only there's father. Poor father he has got nobody but me; whatever will he do when I go away? “and Matty began to cry.
“I expect Jesus will come and take care of him," said Faith.
“Yes," said Matty, “I hope so. That's why I want father so much to love Jesus; and, do you know, I think he does love Him a little, Faith. Sometimes of a night now he reads to me out of my Testament, and he likes me to talk about it now; and oh, I do pray for him so very often."
“Then the answer is sure to come," said Faith;” Mrs. Fraser always says so. I keep on praying to find my father, and sometimes I think I never shall find him, but she tells me I must wait God's time."
It was a lovely September evening, the sun was beginning to set, and the attic windows of the high houses opposite looked as if they were on fire, as the bright golden sunlight fell upon them.
Suddenly, as they were speaking, Matty raised herself quickly. She had been looking out of the window as they were talking, and now she gazed earnestly down the street.
“Yes," she cried, " it is he! There he is, Faith, coming down the street I Run, Faith, run! "
Little Faith did not need to be told twice. In a moment she had jumped up, opened the door, and run into the street.
Had the answer really come? Was her prayer heard?
Yes, there was no doubt of it. There, coming down the street to meet her, in his working clothes, with his breakfast-tin in his hand, was her father—her father whom she had lost so long.
Would he know her, or would he pass her by as if she were a stranger? Little Faith hurried on, and in another minute she was close to her father.