CHAPTER XVIII.

MEG'S SAVINGS.

During the week which elapsed before Jem's work took him into the country, Meg and Cherry were busy from morning till night.

Dickie must have a new frock, and, indeed, so must Cherry, though the doctor's servants had been so kind as to provide her with a print one.

"Cherry," said Meg one morning, "you know we'd take you with us if we could; but you see, dear, my mother hasn't but one room to spare, and I'm afraid, besides, we should be too large a party for her. But I shan't forget; and you must go another time."

Cherry looked up brightly.

"Oh, yes, mother-Meg; of course I _should_ like to see the green fields, but I couldn't leave the doctor's anyhow; so if you could take me ever so, I couldn't go."

"No," said Meg; "but I should not wish you to think I'd forgot you, dear."

Just then Mrs. Blunt tapped at the door, and came in with her pleasant face.

"Here I am, Mrs. Seymour; did ye expect me afore?"

"I was so busy that I hardly knew the time," answered Meg; "but I hope it isn't inconvenient to you to come?"

"Not a bit of it! Why, I'm pleased, I'm sure, as you want me. It's nice to be wanted, ye know, sometimes."

"I expect you're often wanted," smiled Meg.

She shook her head, smiling too.

"More of late than I used to be," she said. "But now what is it you want me to do?"

"Well," said Meg, "I want you to stay with Dickie while Cherry and I go to buy something, for he's too heavy for either of us to carry, and he has not got courage to walk yet. The noise in the street frightens him now he can't see it all."

"Poor little dear," said Mrs. Blunt, kissing him.

"We shan't be gone long," explained Meg; "and you can't think how glad I am mother advised me to save what I earned with her. Here's quite a little store--enough to buy some things for my two children, and to pay for making them."

"I should like to 'elp you for nothing," said Mrs. Blunt, understanding what Meg meant by those last words; for she had sent Jem down to explain to her, that she wanted to find some one to make Cherry's dress, and that she would ten times rather she should do it than put it out.

"But that would not be right," answered Meg; "and, like me, now you've begun to have a little saving-bag, the money can go into that."

Mrs. Blunt laughed.

"I always feel rich when I look into that bag, even if there's ever so little in it."

Meanwhile Meg was putting on her bonnet, and now stooped to kiss Dickie, who was sitting in his own little chair.

"Is this the chair as I've heard on?" asked Mrs. Blunt. "What a rare nice one! Why, it takes in half, I do declare, and makes into a little table too, like they do in the shops."

Dickie looked very pleased, and Mrs. Blunt's own babies toddled round to look and admire. They regarded the little blind boy with awe, having been drilled by their mother as to how they were to behave to him. But his gentle little face won them at once, and when they found that he looked very much like themselves, and wore frocks and pinafores, they ceased to be afraid, and began to prattle about the little bits of toys they had brought up with them.

Meg glanced at the three crowded round the little table, and left them with a happy heart.

Mrs. Blunt busied herself with some work Meg had left for her, and it did not seem long before she came back, accompanied by Cherry carrying a long-shaped parcel.

"Look!" she exclaimed, spreading it out on the table, "just look what mother-Meg has bought for me! Here's some dark blue serge for my best frock, and stuff for two aprons, and a new hat. I never saw such a lot o' things in my life."

Then Meg unrolled her parcel, and there was a ready-made jacket for Dickie, and stuff like Cherry's for a neat little frock, and a hat, which Meg put down on his table in front of him, guiding his soft hands to feel its shape and newness.

"For me?" asked Dickie. "What a nice lickle hat!"

"See if it fits you," said Meg, placing it on his head.

Cherry was delighted; and then Meg turned to the table to begin cutting out, so that no time might be wasted.

"Does he never run about?" whispered Mrs. Blunt, glancing towards Dickie.

"Not yet," answered Meg, in the same tone.

But the children's society was very attractive, and before long they noticed that Dickie stood up of his own accord, and even went so far as to feel his way round to the other side of his table.

"He will get on by-and-by," said Mrs. Blunt. "It's all new to him, poor little chap."

Cherry sat by, watching the children, and working at the seams of her skirt; and if ever her heart felt thankful it was this morning, as she saw Dickie, sheltered from all danger, playing so peacefully there. Her own new dress was only a part of her happiness, and when she thought of all the love which had been showered upon her, she felt as if she could sing for joy.

"Mother-Meg," she said softly, when she was next standing by her to have something fitted, "I don't know how to tell you how grateful I am to you and father-Jem."

Meg smiled kindly. "Tell Jesus," she answered, stroking her wavy hair, "for when we tell Him, it does not make us less glad, but more."

So Cherry went back to her work, and Meg and Mrs. Blunt were left to theirs.

"Do you think as we shall get this done to-night?" asked Mrs. Blunt.

"I hope we shall--I think we may. You see, to-morrow is Sunday, and I did want for us all to go to the Mission Room together. I don't know that Cherry _could_ go in that old thing, though I am not sure, now I say so, that shabby clothes ought to keep us away."

"No," answered Mrs. Blunt; "but one don't like to be looked down on."

"I suppose we ought to think about pleasing God more than about pleasing our neighbours."

"That's very true, I'm sure."

"And if we wear what _He_ has given us, we ought to be satisfied that it is right."

"Only some of us didn't always make the best of what He did give us," remarked Mrs. Blunt, with a little smile.

"We learn, don't we," asked Meg, "when He teaches us? Mrs. Blunt, I wish you'd get your husband to go with us to-morrow."

"What, in his working-clothes? He ain't got no others, my dear."

"Jem goes in his," said Meg.

"Yes; but a carpenter's different from a mason."

"It's cleaner work, of course; but I don't believe that our Father in Heaven minds a bit about clothes. He clothes us with the 'Best Robe,' and He looks at us in that."

"What do you mean by 'the best robe,' Mrs. Seymour?" asked the woman, still plying her needle as fast as she could. She had found in talking to Meg, that there was often a hidden meaning under some quaint little sentence.

"Don't you remember in the parable of the prodigal son, how the father says, 'Bring forth the best robe and put it on him?' It seems to me that that is how God looks at us. He covers over all our rags and tatters with the Robe of His Son's righteousness, and He looks at that instead of at our poor doings."

"I see," said Mrs. Blunt; "and I'll ask Blunt to think of what you say. I'm sure I miss goin' out of a Sunday dreadful; but I haven't been, I do believe, since the first year I was married."

Meg did not exclaim, but she answered gently, "We must ask God to help you both to go; I'm sure you would feel different."

"I _do_ feel different already; and Blunt says as I've grown young again. Think of that! It's all along of you, Mrs. Seymour, and what you've helped me to learn of our Saviour. But I want Blunt and the children to take the comfort of it too."

"Of course you do," answered Meg, sympathetically, "and you'll have it too, if you ask for it."

"Shall I?" asked Mrs. Blunt.

"It says, 'Ask, and ye shall _receive_,'" answered Meg.

A little before twelve o'clock Mrs. Blunt went down to prepare her husband's and children's dinner, and Meg rose to get ready for her Jem.

"Let me do it," said Cherry, "and then you can go on with the work; I've come to the end of all I can do now."

Meg willingly let her try, and so the dress progressed rapidly, and when Mrs. Blunt and her babies reappeared after dinner, she was surprised to see how much had been accomplished.

About eight o'clock that night the last stitch was put in it, and the last button sewn on; and then Cherry went into the other room, and came back in it smiling and blushing, and looking so pretty that Mrs. Blunt, who was preparing to go, was obliged to stoop and kiss her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Blunt," said Cherry earnestly. "I know you've put out your own work for me, and I think it's very kind of you."

"You're welcome, my dear; and I've had one of the happiest days I ever spent--that I have."

When she was gone Cherry suddenly turned to Meg.

"Oh, how selfish I've been! I never thought about Dickie's frock; shall you be able to take him to-morrow in his old one?"

"Yes," answered Meg, "it was impossible to do both; and his jacket will cover up the dear little old frock."

"I wish I'd thought of it," said Cherry, sorrowfully.

But Meg assured her, that even if she had it would have made no difference.

"So be happy, dear," she said, "and enjoy the nice new frock which God has given you."

Cherry kissed her and wished her good night, and then went up-stairs to see if Mrs. Seymour should want her to do anything before she went to bed.

"My!" exclaimed Miss Hobson, when she stood in the doorway, with her golden hair falling over her shoulders. "My! you do look nice so, Cherry."

Cherry laughed. "Mother-Meg wishes me to wear my hair like this," answered Cherry, "and mother used to like it when she were alive. Only I couldn't, ye know, when I'd got no soap, nor brush, nor nothing."

"Ain't that a nice dress!" said Miss Hobson, admiringly. "I shouldn't 'a known ye, Cherry. But why didn't young Mrs. Seymour get ye a black one for yer poor father?"

Cherry looked a little troubled, and Mrs. Seymour quickly interposed.

"She would ha' done, but I advised her not; it's better as it is. Cherry is as sorry for her poor father in this one as ever she would be in a black; and 'tain't as if Meg could get her another best one in a hurry."

"No," said Miss Hobson; "only some folks thinks a deal o' black."

"Very foolishly," answered Mrs. Seymour decidedly; "but that's not my Jem's Meg. She never even got a bit of new black for the little darling that's gone. She had one as she'd had at the Hall, and she says to me, 'Mother, you'll not think as I don't care because I don't spend Jem's money getting black things.'"

"Well, you needn't be hot over it," said Miss Hobson; "I didn't know the reason, of course."

Cherry came to her bedside, and spoke gently, though there were tears in her large sweet eyes.

"Miss Hobson, _don't_ tell any one as I haven't a black frock--no one but you knows; and it don't make a bit of difference so long as I think as _God_ sent it."

Miss Hobson stroked the little hand which lay on her sheet, and called out to Mrs. Seymour, who had turned away,

"Mrs. Seymour, I'm sorry as I was cross; and I wouldn't ha' said a word if I'd remembered in time."

Then she drew Cherry towards her, and asked her to give her a kiss.

"You've been a kind little girl to me all this month past, that you have, my dear; and you can go to that drawer there--the bottom one. In the left-hand corner you'll find a work-box. Will you bring it to me?"

Cherry did as desired, and when it was placed on the bed, Miss Hobson raised herself on her elbow.

"Yes," she said, "that's it. That was give to me when I was a young woman, all fitted up as nice as anything, with scissors, and thimble, and cottons and all. It was give to me by my young man as was drowned at sea, and I've kept it hoarded up this thirty years. But now I'm going to give it to you, Cherry. Why should it lie there when there's one of my Lord's little ones as 'ud be glad of it for their work?"

"Do you really mean for _me_, Miss Hobson?" asked Cherry, looking at the beautiful box as if she could not believe what she had heard.

"Yes; it will not make him as is gone seem more far off, for your havin' it. He was always generous, and he'd have liked you to have it, as these poor old rheumatic fingers of mine can't use it no longer."

She wept a little, while Cherry stood by, hardly liking to take her at her word.

"You see, Cherry," Miss Hobson went on, cheering up as she spoke, "I've been too apt to think of myself all my life, so the Lord has made it so as I've only myself left to think about. And then He begins to teach me to think about Him. And every day, as I think about _Him_, I care less about myself, and more about Him. And so it comes to pass as He brings me you to think of too. And by-and-by He'll let me do something for you, perhaps, more'n giving you my dear work-box."

"I can't begin to thank you," said Cherry, "but it _is_ kind of you. I never saw such a nice one in my life. Are you sure as you won't be sorry as you've give it to me, Miss Hobson?"

"No--no, my dear; not so long as you take care on it."

She passed her crooked suffering fingers over it tenderly; then, as if she could not help it, she raised herself and pressed a kiss upon the lid. Then she bade Cherry take it away and keep it as her own.

When Cherry showed her treasure to Mrs. Seymour she said--

"That's cost Miss Hobson a deal to give up, I can tell you. But when she thinks as her Lord would be pleased, she don't stick at it. It's for _His sake_, child!"