CHAPTER VII.
It was tea-time at home by the time they got there. All during themeal, Maria held forth upon the adventures of the afternoon, especiallythe last.
"Mamma, those people are somebody," she concluded.
"I hope I am somebody," said Mrs. Englefield.
"Oh but you know what I mean, mamma."
"I am not clear that I do."
"And I, Maria,--am I not somebody?" her aunt asked.
"Well, we're all _somebody_, of course, in one sense. Of course we'renot _nobody_."
"I am not so sure what you think about it," said Mrs. Candy. "I thinkthat in your language, who isn't somebody is nobody."
"Oh, well, we're _somebody_," said Maria. "But if you could see thesplendid bunch of jewels that hung at Mrs. Laval's breast, you wouldknow I say the truth."
"Now we are getting at Maria's meaning," observed Clarissa.
"I have no bunch of jewels hanging at my breast," said Mrs. Englefield;"if _that_ is what she means by 'somebody.'"
"How large a bunch was it, Maria?" her aunt asked.
"And is it certain that Maria's eyes could tell the true from thefalse, in such a matter as a bunch of jewellery?" suggested Clarissa."They have not had a great deal of experience."
Maria fired up. "I just wish you could see them for yourself!" shesaid. "False jewels, indeed! They sparkle like flashes of lightning.All glittering and flashing, red and white. I never saw anything sobeautiful in all my life. And if you saw the rest of the dress, youwould know that they couldn't be false jewels."
"What sort of a face had she?"
"I don't know,--handsome."
"The bunch of jewels dazzled Maria's eyes," said Clarissa, sipping hertea.
"No, not handsome, Maria," Matilda said.
"Well, not handsome exactly, but pleasant. She had curls, and lightishhair; but her dress was so handsome, it made her look handsome. Shetook a _terrible_ fancy to Matilda."
"Matilda is the youngest," said her mother.
"It was thanks to Matilda we got into the house at all; and Matilda hadthe flowers. Nobody spoke of giving me any flowers."
"Well, you know you do not care for them," interposed Matilda.
"Mamma, those people are somebody--I can tell you!"
"You speak as if there were nobody else in Shadywalk, Maria, that isanybody."
"Well, Aunt Candy, I don't know any people like these."
"Maria, you talk nonsense," said her mother.
"Mamma, it is just what Aunt Erminia would say herself, if she knew thepeople."
"What makes anybody 'somebody,' I should like to know? and what do youmean by it? Am I nobody, because I cannot wear red and white jewels atmy throat?"
"It wasn't at her throat at all, mamma; it was just here--on her waist."
"A _bouquet de corsage_," said Clarissa. "The _waist_, as you call it,is at the belt."
"Well, I am not a mantua-maker," said Maria.
"No more than we are somebody," said Mrs. Candy.
"Well, you know what I mean," said Maria; "and you all think exactlythe same. There is nobody else in Shadywalk that dresses so, or thathas such flowers, or that has such a house."
"Who are they, these people that she talks of?" Mrs. Candy asked.
"They have lately bought the place. I know nothing about them. Theywere here for a little while in the summer; but only to turn everythingupside down in the house and grounds, and make changes. I cannotimagine what has brought them here, to the country, in the depth ofwinter. They had nothing to do with anybody in Shadywalk, that I knowof. Perhaps they will, now they have got in order. I believe they havelived out of America a good deal."
"Is that what you mean by 'somebody,' Maria?" her aunt asked. "PerhapsI am 'somebody,' according to that."
Maria's thoughts would not bear to be spoken, it seemed, for she didnot speak them; and it must be a strong reason that kept Maria'sopinions to herself. However, the family found something else to talkabout, and Mrs. Laval was not mentioned again till Maria and Matildawent up to bed. Then Matilda had something to say.
"Maria," she began with judicial gravity, "what was that Mrs. Lavalgave us to drink?"
"I don't know," said Maria; "but it was the best thing I ever tasted inall my life. It was some sort of wine, I guess; it was strong enough.But it was sweet; oh, it was nice!"
"And you drank it!"
"I guess I did! I only wished there was more of it."
"But, Maria!----"
"Well, what, 'Maria'?"
"You promised, Maria, that you would do all you could for temperancework."
"What then? I could not do anything for temperance there, child. AsMrs. Laval said."
"You needn't have drunk the wine."
"Why shouldn't I? Mrs. Laval gave it to me; I couldn't be rude."
"But that is not keeping your promise."
"I made no promise about it. I could do nothing in the world fortemperance _there_, Tilly. What would Mrs. Laval care for anything _I_should say?"
"But, Maria!" said her little sister, looking puzzled and troubled atonce--"you cannot drink wine in one place, and try to hinder peoplefrom drinking it in another place."
"Why can't I? It all depends on the place, Tilly, and the people."
"And the wine, I suppose," said Matilda, severely.
"Yes!" said Maria, boldly, "I dare say, if all wine was like that, Mr.Richmond would have no objection to it."
"I don't see, Maria," said her sister, "what you made those promisesfor the other night. I think you ought not to have got up at all; itwas the same as speaking; and if you do not mean to keep promises, youshould not make them."
"And what have you got to do with it?" said Maria in her turn. "You didnot stand up with the rest of us; you have no business to lecture otherpeople that are better than yourself. I am going to keep all thepromises I ever made; but I did not engage to go poking into Mrs. Dow'swash kitchen, nor to be rude to Mrs. Laval; and I don't mean to do theone or the other, I give you notice."
Matilda drew another of the long breaths that had come so many timesthat afternoon, and presently remarked that she was glad the nextmeeting of the Band would come in a few days.
Maria sharply inquired, "Why?"
"Because," said Matilda, "I hope Mr. Richmond will talk to us. I don'tunderstand about things."
"Of course you don't!" said Maria; "and if I were you I would not be sowise, till I did 'understand.'"
Matilda got into bed, and Maria sat down to finish putting the braid onher dress.
"Tilly, what are you going to get with your twenty-five dollars?"
"I don't know yet."
"I don't know whether I shall get a watch, or a dress, like Anne; orsomething else. What would you?"
"I don't know."
"What _are_ you going to get with your money, Matilda?"
"I can't tell, Maria. I know what I am going to do with part; but Idon't know what I am going to do with the other part."
Maria could get no more from her.
Nothing new happened in the family before the evening came for whatMaria called the "Band meeting." Matilda went about between home andthe school extremely quiet and demure, and reserved rather more thanordinary; but reserve was Matilda's way. Only Maria knew, and itirritated her, that her little sister was careful to lock herself upalone with her Bible, or rather with somebody else's Bible, for Matildahad none of her own, for a good long time every morning and evening.Maria thought sometimes she knew of her doing the same thing at thenoon recess. She said nothing, but she watched. And her watching madeher certain of it. Matilda unlocked her door and came out always with aface of quiet seriousness and a spirit in armour. Maria could notprovoke her (and she tried); nor could any other temptations ordifficulties, that she could see, shake a certain steady gentlenesswith which Matilda went through them. Matilda was never a passionatechild, but she had been pleasure-loving and wayward. That was changingnow; and Matilda was giving earnest care to her scho
ol-work.
The desired evening for the "Band meeting" came, and the young peopleall went duly to the lecture-room; though Maria reminded her sistersthat they did not belong there. Letitia and Anne chose to go in spiteof that fact. The room, though not full, was filled towards the upperend; so the party were divided, and it happened that Matilda placedherself apart from her sisters, in the front, at the end of a seat nearto Mr. Richmond. He was there already, standing by the little desk.
After the prayer and singing, Mr. Richmond declared that they were cometogether for a talk; and he meant to make it a talk. He should askquestions when he chose, and everybody else might exercise the sameliberty.
"We are going to try to understand things," he said; "and by thatsomewhat vague expression I mean things connected with our covenantthat we have made, and the work we have undertaken. Our covenant beginswith the words, 'We are the servants of Christ.' Let us know exactlywhat we mean. What is it to be a servant of Christ? What is a servant,in the first place?"
There was hesitation; then an answer from somewhere,--"He is somebodywho does what he is told."
"That would be a good servant," said Mr. Richmond, smiling; "but itwill do. He is one who acts under the will of another, doing the workof another. A servant of Christ--what does he do?--and how does he doit?"
There was no answer this time.
"Let us look," said Mr. Richmond. "In the first verse of the firstchapter of his Epistle to the Romans, Paul calls himself a servant ofJesus Christ; and in the ninth verse he says that he serves 'with hisspirit.' Here is a mark. The service of Christ, you see, is in thefirst instance, not outward but inward. Not hand work, nor lip work,nor money giving; but service _in the spirit_. What is that?
"It is having your will the same with God's will.
"So now look and see. We all pledged ourselves the other night to do agreat many sorts of outward service; good in themselves, and right andneedful to do. But the first question is, Are we ourselves the servantsof Christ? Do we in heart love and obey and agree to His will? If weare not doing that, or trying to do it, our other service is no serviceat all. It is a lie, and no service at all. Or it is service ofourselves."
Mr. Richmond paused a little.
"I have no reason to think that any of you did not mean true service,when the pledge was given the other night. So now let us see how thistrue service shows itself.
"Jesus said, you remember, 'If any man serve me, let him follow me.'All we have to ask is, How did the Lord himself walk, that we shouldfollow Him? I recommend you to study the story of His life verycarefully and very constantly, and be continually getting new lessonsfrom it. But now let us look just at one or two points.
"Jesus said, 'As long as I am in the world, I am the Light of theworld.' Has he commanded us to be anything like that?"
One of the boys answered, "Let your light so shine before men, thatthey may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is inheaven."
"How can our light shine?"
"Doing good," another boy answered.
"Being good," said one of the girls.
"Very well; but what is there in doing and being good which has anyresemblance to light? What does light do?"
"It shows things," a boy said.
"There's no darkness where the light comes," said a little girl.
"Quite true; but how does our doing good and being good, 'show things'?What does it show?"
After a little hesitation a voice replied, "It shows what is right."
"It shows what people ought to do," a boy said.
"It shows what is the will of God about us," said Mr. Richmond; "andthe more exactly we are obedient to that will and conformed to it, themore brightly do we give light. And do you see? our light-givingdepends on what we _are_. We give no light, except just so far as weare ourselves what God wills us to be. And then it shines out in allsorts of ways. I knew a little girl whose eyes were like two purelamps, always; they were so loving and clear and true. I have knownseveral people whose voices gave light as much as harmony; they were sosweet with the tones of a glad heart and a conscience at peace. I haveseen faces that shone, almost like angel faces, with the love of Godand the joy of heaven and the love of their fellow-men. Now this is thefirst thing the Lord calls us to be in His service--His light-bearers.The light comes from Him; we must get it from Him; and then we mustshine! And of course our actions give light too, if they are obedientto the will of God. A boy who keeps the Sabbath holy is almost as goodas a sermon to a boy who doesn't. One who refuses to touch the offeredglass of wine, shows the light to another who drinks it. A lovinganswer shames a harsh spirit; and a child faithful to her duties atschool is a beacon of truth to her fellows.
"There is one thing more; and then I will talk to you no longer thisevening. Jesus said, 'The Son of man is come to seek and to save thatwhich is lost.' His servants must follow Him. Now, how much are youwilling to do,--how far are you willing to go,--to accomplish what Hecame, and lived, and died for? and how will you set about it?"
There was a long silence here; until Mr. Richmond urged that an answershould be given. Then at last somebody suggested--
"Bringing new scholars to school?"
"That is one thing to be done, certainly; and a very good thing. Whatelse can we attempt? Remember,--it is to seek and to save the _lost!_"
"We might carry tracts," another suggested.
"You might; and if they are good tracts, and given with a kind word,and followed with a loving prayer, they will not be carried in vain.But to whom will you take them, Frank?"
"Might take them to the boys in the school," Frank thought.
"Where else?"
"Might drop 'era around the corner," Mrs. Rice said.
"Don't _drop_ them anywhere, where it is possible to give them," Mr.Richmond replied. "Do not ever be, or seem, ashamed of your wares. Givelovingly to almost anybody, and the gift will not be refused, if youchoose the time and place wisely. Take people when they are alone, asmuch as you can. But the _lost_, remember. Who are the lost?"
Silence; then a voice spoke--
"People who don't come to church."
"It is a bad sign when people do not come to church," said Mr.Richmond. "Still we may not make that an absolute test. Some people aresick and unable to come; some are deaf and unable to hear if they didcome; some are so poor they have not decent clothes. Some live wherethere are no churches. Who are the _lost?_"
"People who are not going to heaven," one little girl answered.
"People who are not good," another said.
"People who swear," said a boy.
"Those people who do not love Jesus Christ," was the answer of thefourth.
"That sums it all up," said Mr. Richmond. "Those who do not know theLord Jesus. They are out of the way to heaven; they have never trustedin His blood for forgiveness; they are not good, for they have not gotHis help to make them good; and if they do not swear and do otherdreadful things, it is only because the temptation is wanting. They arethe lost. Now, does not every one of you know some friend oracquaintance who is a lost one? some brother or sister perhaps; ormother or father, or cousin or neighbour, who does not love Jesus theLord? Those are the very first people for us to seek. Then, outside ofthose nearest ones, there is a whole world lost. Let us go after all,but especially those who have few to look after them."
"It is harder to speak to those you know, than to those you don'tknow," Mrs. Trembleton said.
"No matter. Jesus said, 'He that taketh not his cross and followethafter me, cannot be my disciple.' Let us go to the hardest cases."
"Are not tracts best to use with them?" Mrs. Swan asked.
"Use tracts or not, according to circumstances. Your own voice is oftenbetter than a tract, if it has the right ring to it. When
''Tis joy, not duty, To speak His beauty.'
Speak _that_ as often and wherever you can. And 'whatsoever thy handfindeth to do, do it with thy might.' Now I have done asking questions,and you
may ask me whatever you like. It is your turn."
Mr. Richmond sat down.
But the silence was unbroken.
"I am here to answer questions, remember. Has no one anything to ask?Has no one found any difficulty to be met, and he does not know justhow to meet it? Has no one found something to be done, and he does notknow just who is to do it? Speak, and tell everything. Now is the time."
Silence again, and then a little boy said--
"I have found a feller that would like, I guess, to come toSunday-School; but his toes is out o' his shoes."
"Cannot he get another pair?" Mr. Richmond asked gravely.
"I guess not, sir."
"Then it is a case for the 'Aid and Comfort' committee," said Mr.Richmond. "Who is the head of your department? Who is chief of thosewho are looking up new scholars?"
"John Depeyster."
"Very well. Tell John Depeyster all about your little boy and his toes,and John will go to the head of the relief committee--that is, MissForshew--and she will see about it. Very well, Everett; you have made agood beginning. Who is next?"
"I would like to know," said Miss Forshew, in a small voice, "where therelief committee are to get supplies from? If new shoes are to bebought, there must be funds."
"That is the very thing the relief committee undertook, I thought,"said Mr. Richmond. "Must there be some scheme to relieve _them_ first?Your business abilities can manage that, Miss Forshew, or I am mistakenin them. But, dear friends, we are not going to serve Christ with thatwhich costs us nothing--are we?"
"Mr. Richmond," said Ailie Swan, "may temperance people drink cider?"
The laughter was universal now.
"Because," said Ailie, unabashed, "I was talking to a boy aboutdrinking it; and he said cider was nothing."
"I have seen _some_ cider which was more than negative in its effects,"said Mr. Richmond. "I think you were right Ailie. Cider is only thejuice of apples, to be sure; but it gets so unlike itself once in awhile, that it is quite safe to have nothing to do with it."
"Mr. Richmond," said another girl, "what are you to do if people arerude?"
"The Bible says, 'A soft answer turneth away wrath,' Mary."
"But suppose they will not listen to you?"
"Be patient. People did not always listen to the Master, you remember."
"But would you try again?"
"If I had the least chance. We must not be afraid of 'taking the windon our face,' as an old writer says. I would try again; and I wouldpray more for them. Did you try that, Mary?"
"No, sir."
"Don't ever hope to do anything without prayer. Indeed, we must look toGod to do all. _We_ are nothing. If anything is to be accomplished forthe service of Christ by our hands, it must be by God's grace workingthrough us and with us; no other way. The power is His, always. Sowhatever you do, pray, and hope in God, not in yourself."
"Mr. Richmond," said Frances Barth, "I do not understand about'carrying the message.' What does it mean?"
"You know what the message is? We are commanded to preach the gospel toevery creature."
"But how can we do it?--people who are not ministers?"
"It is not necessary to get up into a pulpit to preach the gospel."
"No, sir; but--any way, how is one to 'carry the message'?"
"First, I would say, be sure that you have a message to carry."
"I thought you just said, Mr. Richmond, that the gospel is themessage?" said Mrs. Trembleton.
"It is the material of the message; but you know it must be verydifferently presented to different people."
"I know; but how can you tell?"
"As I said, be sure that you have a message to carry. Let your heart befull of some thought, or some truth, which you long to tell to anotherperson, or long that another person should know. Then ask the Lord togive you the right word for that person; and ask Him to let His powergo along with it."
"Then one's own heart must be full first," said another lady, Mrs.Barth, thoughtfully.
"It should be. And it may be."
"One has so little time to give to these things," said Mrs. Trembleton.
"Shall we serve the Lord with that which costs us nothing?" again saidMr. Richmond. But he did not prolong the conversation after that. Hegave out a hymn and dismissed the assembly.
Matilda being quite in the front, was some distance behind her sistersin coming out. As she passed slowly down the aisle, she came near twoof her little acquaintances in one of the seats, who were busilytalking.
"It would be so nice!" she heard the one say to the other.
"Where shall we do it?"
"There's no place at our house."
"No more there isn't at mine. There are so many people about all over.Where can we go?"
"I'll tell you. Mr. Ulshoeffer has this place nice and warm long beforeSunday-School time, on Sundays; let us come here. We could come awhilebefore the time, you know; and it would be so nice. Nobody wouldinterrupt us. Oh, there's Matilda Englefield--Matilda, won't you cometoo? Oh, I forgot; you are not one of the Band."
"Yes, I am," said Matilda.
"Why, you didn't rise the other night when we all rose. I looked overat you to see."
"I gave Mr. Richmond my name afterwards."
"Oh, did you! oh, that's good. Now, Matilda, wouldn't you like to comewith Mary and me?"
"What are you going to do?"
"Why, Mary said she would like to begin and read the Life of Jesus, youknow, to see how He did live; if we are to follow Him, you know; and Isaid I would like it too; and we're going to do it together. And we'recoming here Sundays, before time for Sunday-School, to have a goodquiet place where nobody can trouble us. Don't you want to come too,Matilda?"
"Yes. But other people will find it out and come too."
"We'll lock the door; till it is time for the people to come toSunday-School, you know."
"But I don't believe _we_ can get in, Ailie," said Mary Edwards. "Iguess Mr. Ulshoeffer keeps the door locked himself."
"I know he does; but I know Regina Ulshoeffer, and she'll get leave forus and get the key. I know she will. Then we'll come, won't we?Good-night! Bring your Testament, Tilly!"
The little group scattered at the lecture-room door, and Matilda ranafter her party. They were far ahead; and when she caught up with themthey were deep in eager talk, which was almost altercation. Matildafell behind and kept out of it and out of hearing of it, till they gothome.
"Well!" said Mrs. Candy, as they entered the parlour, "what now? You donot look harmonious, considering. What have you had to-night?"
"An impossible sort of enthusiasm, mamma," said Clarissa, as she drewoff her handsome furs.
"Impossible enthusiasm!" repeated Mrs. Candy.
"What has Mr. Richmond been talking about?" asked Mrs. Englefield.
"Why, mamma," said Letitia, "we are all to spend our lives in feedingsick people, and clothing lazy people, and running after the society ofwicked people, as far as I can make out; and our money of course goeson the same plan. I advise you to look after Maria and Matilda, forthey are just wise enough to think it's all right; and they will becarrying it into practice before you know where you are."
"It is not so at all!" began Maria, indignantly. "It is nothing likethat, mamma. You know Mr. Richmond better."
"I think I know you better, too. Look where your study books werethrown down to-day when you came from school. Take them away, beforeyou do anything else or say anything more."
Maria obeyed with a gloomy face.
"Do you approve of Mr. Richmond, Aunt Marianne?" Clarissa asked. "Ifso, I will say no more; but I was astonished to-night. I thought he wasa man of sense."
"He _is_ a man of sense," said Mrs. Englefield; "but I always thoughthe carried his notions rather far."
"Why, aunt, he would make missionaries and colporteurs and sisters ofcharity of us all. Sisters of charity are a magnificent institution, ofcourse; but what would become of the world if we were _all_
sisters ofcharity? And the idea! that everybody is to spend his whole time andall his means in looking up vagrants and nursing fever cases! I neverheard anything like it in my life. That, and doing the work oftravelling Methodists!"
"I wonder what the ministry is good for," said Mrs. Candy, "ifeverybody is to do the same work."
"I do not understand it," said Mrs. Englefield. "I was not brought upto these extreme theories myself; and I do not intend that my childrenshall be."
"But, mamma," said Maria, re-entering, "Mr. Richmond does not go intoextreme theories."
"Did you eat an apple after dinner?" said her mother.
"Yes, ma'am."
"You ate it up here, instead of in the dining-room?"
"Why, mamma, you know we often----"
"Answer me. You ate it up here?"
"Yes."
"What did you do with the core and the peel?"
"Mamma, I--you know I had no knife----"
"What did you do with it?"
No answer, except that Maria's cheeks grew bright.
"You know what you did with it, I suppose. Now bring it to me, Maria."
Colouring angrily as well as confusedly, Maria went to the mantelpiecewhere stood two little china vases, and took down one of them.
"Carry it to your Aunt Candy," said her mother. "Look at it, Erminia.Now bring it here. Take this vase away, and empty it, and wash it, andput it in its place again; and never use it to put apple peels in, aslong as you live."
Maria burst into tears and went away with the vase.
"Just a little careless," said her aunt.
"Heedless--always was," said her mother. "Now Matilda is not so; andAnne and Letitia were neither of them so. It is a mystery to me, whatmakes one child so different from another child?"
"Matilda is a little piece of thoughtfulness," said her aunt, drawingthe child to her side and kissing her. "Don't you think a little toomuch, Tilly?"
Matilda wondered whether her aunt thought quite enough.
"Now, Maria," Mrs. Englefield went on as her other daughter came in,"are you purposing to enter into all Mr. Richmond's plans that Clarissahas been talking about?"
"Yes, ma'am, of course," Maria said.
"Well, I want you to take notice, that I expect in the first place thatall your home and school duties shall be perfectly performed. Religion,if it is good for anything, makes people do their duties. Your lessonsmust be perfect; your drawers kept in order; your clothes mended; youmust be punctual at school and orderly at home; do you hear? And if allthis is not done, I shall take all your pretended religion for nothingbut a sham, and shall pay no respect to it at all. Now go to bed andact religion for a month before I hear you talk another word about it."
Maria went silently up-stairs, accompanied by her little sister; butonce in their room, she broke out--
"Mamma is real cross to-night! It is just Clarissa's doing."
"I'll tell you what it is, Maria," her sister said; "she is not cross;she is worried. I know she is worried."
"About Mr. Richmond?" said Maria.
"I don't know about what. No, I guess she was worried before we cameback."
"She was cross anyhow!" said Maria. "How can one do everything_perfectly?_"
"But that is just what Mr. Richmond said," Matilda urged gently.
"What?"
"That we should be light-bearers, you know. That is the way to be alight-bearer; to do everything perfectly."
"Well, you may, if you can," said Maria. "I can't."