Years ago, in a very lonely, out-of-the-way part of England, there lived a God-fearing farmer. He was in the habit of driving every Sunday with his family to the village church, leaving only one person in charge of the house. The people all around were noted for their honesty, and such a thing as a robbery had scarcely ever been heard of in the district.
One bright summer morning he set out as usual, leaving his little daughter to keep house. It was the first time Mary had been considered old enough to be left, but she felt neither lonely nor afraid. Had she not her dumb friends in the farmyard for companions, and good old Rover, the dog, for protector?
She watched the wagon out of sight over a neighboring hill; then went indoors, and reaching down the big Bible, spent quite an hour in reading its wonderful stories. Presently she rose and went out into the garden, closing the gate securely against Rover, who was following her, as he had a bad habit of scratching up the beds. After walking up and down the paths for some time, she sat down in the arbor, and, tired with the heat, fell fast asleep.
It was late when she awoke, past dinnertime, and feeling hungry, she hastened back to the house and arranging her dinner on a little table, had just begun to eat when she saw two men coming through the yard toward the house. They were dirty, untidy, and haggard-looking, not at all like Sunday guests. But Mary only gathered from this that they were poor and hungry; so with the ready hospitality which she had always seen her father exercise towards strangers, she hurried to the door, and throwing it open invited them to enter. The men seemed both surprised and amused at her innocence and simplicity, for they looked at each other and laughed as they accepted the invitation.
“So you’re all alone, little ‘un?” said the younger of the two, as they seated themselves.
“Yes, sir; me and Rover are keeping house.”
“Who’s Rover?”
“Oh, he is the big dog. Didn’t you see him in the yard? I wonder he did not bark.”
“Dogs never hurt us. We don’t let ‘em,” said the other man surlily. “And your Rover...”
“Never mind Rover,” interposed his companion, hastily. “You don’t know what we’ve come for, do you, little ‘un?”
“No, sir; but I dare say you would like something to eat and drink.”
“I should think so; and you had better get it quick,” said the surly man.
“Don’t frighten the girl!” again interposed the other sharply. “What’s the use? Never mind him, little ‘un; he’s cross because he’s so hungry.”
Reassured, for she had been rather startled, Mary hurried to the pantry, and soon a bountiful meal was spread before her unexpected guests, and she seated herself at the table with them.
The younger man began to hack away at the large joint, when Mary said gently, “Won’t you ask a blessing first?”
“I forgot that,” he said winking at his companion, “and it isn’t much in my line. You ask one.”
Mary looked surprised, but immeately stood up and repeated the familiar prayer, “For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful, for Jesus Christ’s sake.”
When the men had somewhat satisfied their hunger, they began to ask Mary a number of questions. What time did she expect her father to return? Was he not at market the day before? and so on.
“And aren’t you afraid to be left here all alone?” concluded the younger of the men. “Suppose any bad people should come—robbers for instance?”
“I’m not at all afraid, sir,” said the child, raising her clear blue eyes to his face. “God would take care of me.”
ML 03/01/1959