WE are to stay in this beautiful house till the end of the week, and we are all so glad, except mother, who thinks we are giving Miss Howard u, great deal of trouble. But Miss Howard says it is no trouble at all, and that she likes very much to have us here.
We cannot go back to Ravenscliffe yet, because, though the house was saved, all the furniture became so wet with the rain, that it cannot be used again until it has been well dried. The beds and mattresses and pillows and blankets are all full of water, and will have to be baked in front of enormous fires before we can sleep on them again.
This morning Miss Howard gave me Little Olive, the book she had promised when she met me on the road that day. I was just going out for a walk when she gave it, so I took it with me to read out of doors.
Melville and the children had gone down to the sea, and I was going to look for them. And as I walked slowly down the path which led through the wood to the sea, I read the little book.
It was so strange to see my own name in print ; it seemed just as if it was about me!
The little Olive in the book was going along a road, when she came up to a beautiful City. The City was made of gold, bright and shining, and little Olive wanted very much to go inside it. So she knocked at the gate. A beautiful angel came to open it, but he told her that he could not let her in. He said that all the little children in the City had pure white dresses on. And then he showed her that her frock was covered with black spots, and he told her that, unless it was quite white and clean, she could not come inside the gate.
Then the gate was shut, and Olive went away. She thought she would wash her frock and make it quite clean, and when she had done this, she went back to the gate.
The same angel opened it, and he asked her why she had come again. Then Olive told him that she had washed her dress, and that it was quite clean now; but the angel looked very sad, and showed her a great many dirty marks which she had not noticed before, and told her that she could not come inside with one stain on her dress.
Little Olive went away, and sat down and cried. And then someone came up to her, and asked her what was the matter. It was Jesus, and Olive told Him all about it, how she wanted so very much to go into the beautiful City, and how she could not go in, because her dress was so dirty.
Then Jesus said to her, ‘Shall I wash your dress for you, little Olive?’ So He washed her dress, and made it quite pure and white, and then He carried her all the way to the City.
The angel was so glad to see who had brought her, and said, ‘Come in, little Olive, there is room for you in the beautiful City.’
And then the little book goes on to say what the story means. The beautiful City means heaven, and we cannot go into heaven unless our hearts are quite pure and white. Every naughty thing we do is like a black mark on our souls, and no black mark can go inside the gates. And then the book says that we cannot make ourselves ready for heaven—that would be like Olive trying to wash her own frock. It says, if we want to get inside the gates of the beautiful City, we must ask Jesus to wash us in His blood, for only His blood can cleanse the black stains of sin.
It is a very dear little book. When I had finished reading it, I went behind a tree in the wood, and knelt down, and said the little prayer which the book asked me to say, ‘Lord Jesus, wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.’
When I got down to the shore, I found Mrs. M’Bride, and Emma, and the children making castles in the sand. They were putting in white stones for the windows, and making little paths and garden beds, and a wall of sand all round.
Melville was sitting by himself on one of the rocks. ‘Olive,’ he said, when I came up, ‘did you think of Whisker?’
Whisker is our dear little cat ; we all love her very much, but no one loves her so much as Melville. We brought her with us from London in a basket, and she follows us about, just like a dog. When the children go out for a walk, she always goes with them, but when Melville is there, she does not seem to care for anyone but him.
‘Isn’t Whisker at Ravenscliffe, Melville?’ I asked.
‘No,’ he said ; ‘she wasn’t there when Mrs. McBride went this morning. Mrs. M’Bride called her, and she never came, and Mrs. M’Intire said she had not seen her since the fire.
‘Oh, Melville,’ I asked, ‘do you think she is burnt ? She would not be in the stable, would she?’
‘I don’t know,’ he answered. ‘I thought she always slept by the kitchen fire ; but Mrs. McBride says old Colin took a great fancy to her, and she thinks that she must have been sleeping in his room.’
We both felt very sorry, and Melville almost cried, he was so very fond of Whisker.
‘Shall we go and look for her again, Olive?’ he said. So we asked Mrs. M’Bride to tell mother where we had gone, and we set off for Ravenscliffe.
The ruins were still smoking a little, and looked very black and dismal. Mrs. M’Intire and her daughter were spreading their clothes in the sunshine to dry them, and sweeping the dirt out of the house. They were very pleased to see us, and kissed us, and cried very much whenever they talked of old Colin.
Then we asked for Whisker, but they had not seen her anywhere. ‘Perhaps she has run away in the woods somewhere,’ Mrs. M’Intire said.
But Melville shook his head. Whisker never ran away from home, and it was a long time now; the fire was on Saturday night, and this was Monday morning.
‘She must be burnt, Olive,’ he said to me, as we came out together. ‘Poor little Whisker, we shall never see her again!’
But, just then, I thought I heard a little cry. ‘Listen, Melville what is that?’
‘It’s Whisker!’ said Melville ; ‘I’m sure it’s Whisker;’ and he ran off in the direction of the cry.
He was just going through the gate of the field near the sea, when I ran after him, and stopped him, saying, ‘Oh, Melville, did you forget what mother said? don’t you remember, she told us never to go this way?’
‘Oh yes, Olive,’ he said. ‘I’m so glad you reminded me; but I’m sure Whisker is there. Listen!’
Yes, we could hear a faint little mew, and it came from the direction of the sea.
At last we agreed that Melville should ask Mrs. M’Intire if she would go and look for Whisker, as mother did not like us to go near the rocks.
Mrs. M’Intire was so kind that she went at once, and we stood by the gate and waited.
At last, after a long time, Mrs. M’Intire returned, and in her arms was our dear little Whisker.
Oh, how she purred when she saw Melville again! ‘Look at her, poor wee thing,’ said Mrs. M’Intire ; ‘she has been in the fire and got scorched, sure enough!’
She showed us that Whisker’s hair and tail were singed and burnt. She must have been sleeping in old Colin’s room, and have waked just in time to leap through the flames and get off. And then she must have been so frightened, that she ran away as fast as she could, till she got to the edge of the rocks, and could not run any farther.
Poor little Whisker, she was very hungry, for she had had nothing to eat for nearly two days.
Mrs. M’Intire took her into the kitchen, and gave her such a good meal, fish and bread and new milk, and all sorts of good things.
Everybody came to look at her, and to stroke her, and to feel how singed her hair was. I think we shall love her better than ever now.
We did not bring her back with us to Langholme, Miss Howard’s house, for we thought she would not be happy in such a large house, and Mrs. M’Intire promised to take great care of her till we came back to Ravenscliffe.