Rose, Robin & May

Rose, Robin and little May were playing in the beautiful meadow one bright afternoon in July. The birds were singing in the trees and on the hedges; buttercups and daisies and other flowers were blooming around. A soft, sweet breeze blew in the faces of the children, while the stream which ran at a short distance from them gleamed bright in the sunshine, and made the pleasant gurgling sound which had lulled little May to sleep, for Rose had taken her baby sister on her lap when she was tired of play, and had seated herself upon a pretty green bank, with the stream running at her feet.

A number of buttercups and daisies which had been gathered and tied into little nosegays lay round about, and a daisy chain encircled little May's neck and arms.

Rose was taking great care of her baby sister; though it was a warm day, she had wrapped part of her cotton skirt around the child's bare legs but this may have been to protect her from the hot sun, which poured down upon the two children.

As she sat rocking gently backwards and forwards, she watched the flies very carefully, lest any should light upon her sleeping charge. Sometimes a big bumble bee buzzed by, and then Rose was frightened lest it should settle on May's face. But the bees were after the flowers and not after the baby's pink cheeks, so they flew by and did her no harm. Then Rose kept one eye upon a frisky little terrier dog which was barking at the cows, fearing lest it should come too near, at the same time watching her little brother Robin, who was busy at a distance lifting great stones and throwing them into the stream.

Rose knew that he was getting covered with dirt, which Robin called "getting into a pickle," but she could not make him hear without disturbing the baby, so she sat wondering which was the worst — to have to wash Robin clean, or to have the baby wake and cry.

Cherry Cottage, their little home, lay just on the other side of the meadow. She could see the smoke curling from the chimney, and the little window of the room where her mother was lying ill. She could see the top of the cherry tree covered with red cherries, and now she could see the door of the cottage open, and a young lady come out and walk down the garden path. Then Rose watched eagerly, as she saw her open the gate of the meadow and come up to where Robin was playing.

As soon as the little fellow saw her coming, he threw a heavy stone he had succeeded in lifting with a great splash into the stream; then he made a bound forward to meet her, but he caught his foot in the long grass and fell flat upon his face. A little dispirited but not hurt, he rose rather slowly, put his finger in his mouth, and glanced up shyly.

"Well, Robin, what are you doing here?" asked Miss Brookland.

"I was just trying to fill the stream with these stones," said the little boy.

"But see how wet you have made your clothes and your boots are covered with mud!"

"They just did it theirselves," sighed Robin; "I was only throwing stones into the little river, to try and make a bridge for you to cross over next time you come to see Mother."

"Thank you very much, Robin, but Mother is very ill. I have been to see her, and she seems worse. Now I want you and Rose to come in and get your tea, and go quietly to bed."

"But I have not seen my mother for a long time," said Robin, "not since dinnertime. Do take me to see Mother, please, Miss Marian; I'll be very good."

"Well, let us tell Rose to bring baby in, and give her her supper, and we will see about it."

They walked towards the little girl, who got up with the sleeping child and followed Miss Brookland to the cottage door.

"Now, Rose, give little May some bread and milk, and Robin a slice of bread and butter. I am going to sit by your mother till Dr. Brookland comes. Ah! here he is; I am glad!" she exclaimed, as a horse and carriage stopped at the garden gate, and a grey-haired, kind-looking gentleman stepped out.

Marian walked quickly to meet her father, then stopped. Looking earnestly into his face, she said,

"Mrs. Rivers seems much worse, Father; I fear she is sinking fast, and it is a sad thing to see the three little ones. They are indoors; their mother will not let them leave her, though Mrs. Gray offered to take them for a few days. Their uncle, Mrs. Rivers's brother, is expected tonight; you know I wrote to him yesterday."

"Dear, dear, it is a sad, sad case, and there is no hope, but I will go up and see her; don't weary yourself with too much watching," he said, gently touching his daughter's cheek.

Little Robin, hearing the sound of the wheels and the horses' feet, ran into the garden, and at sight of the doctor, asked politely,

"Please, Doctor, will you do one thing for me?"

"Well, little man, what is it?" replied Dr. Brookland putting his hand on the boy's curly head.

"Do make my mother better! Give her some of the good medicine you gave me when I was very ill," answered Robin, turning rosy red, but fixing his eyes on the doctor's face, and then adding quickly with a rush of words, as if his little heart were full,

"You and Miss Marian can do everything. Please try hard."

The doctor sighed, and looked at the little, upturned, anxious face.

"I will do what I can, Robin, but I can do very little for Mother now. God is the One to look to; ask Him to help you in your trouble."

"I am always getting into trouble," said the little boy ruefully, as he followed the doctor into the house.

No sooner were both the visitors upstairs, than throwing himself on the floor, he began to cry.

"Stop, Robin, do; there's a good boy, and come and sit on the doorstep with May and me," said Rose.

The kind words the doctor had spoken to her had upset her. In the quiet of that summer evening, it seemed so sad and solemn. She knew her mother was very ill upstairs, and had heard a neighbor say, not many days before, "I am sure Mrs. Rivers will never get up again." The little girl was pondering quietly what she had heard, but any one looking on might have said she did not seem to care much.

Robin rose and took his seat on the doorstep. The cherry tree stretched out its branches on one side; the meadow, with the cows feeding in it, lay on the other; the doctor's horse stood by the roadside whisking his tail over his side every now and again to keep off the flies. A flock of sheep were being driven slowly down the road, raising a cloud of dust as they went past.

"I wish I were a little lamb; they all have their mothers. I feel so alone — no mother, no nothing!"

"I feel rather lonesome too," said Rose. "The doctor told me just now, God would take care of us, but He seems so far away in His heaven up there, and we are nothing but children. It is too much to think He would come down to be with us."

"Mother said God made us, so I suppose He loves us, doesn't He?" asked Robin.

They were all quiet after that, watching the leaves of the trees as they moved gently, and made a low rustling sound, and watching the sun go down over the beautiful green fields.

"I wish we could all go where Mother's going," said Rose. "I wish she could take us."

Robin, now tired, began to cry again.

"Hush! don't cry or poor Mother will hear you, and begin to fret," said Rose, throwing one arm round him, while she held May with the other.

"I want Mother; I haven't given her my goodnight kiss, and I will go to her."

"No, no, wait a little. Miss Marian and the doctor are in Mother's room, and I'm afraid she is worse. Oh! don't cry; Mother will fret if she hears you."

"I want to see her, and know what's wrong with her; I don't believe you care," he answered crossly.

Tears came into Rose's eyes, and fell on her cheeks, but she did not answer till a great sob came, which caused May to look up, stroke her face and say, "Poor," and then to begin to cry too.

At the sound of Robin's cries, the bedroom door at the top of the staircase opened softly, a light step was heard above, and Marian Brookland came down to where the little ones were sitting.

"Poor little Robin, what is the matter? Do you want Mother? Well, Mother wants you. She wishes you all to come and speak to her."

As she spoke, Miss Brookland looked very sad, just as if she had been crying, but she tried to smile upon the children, and held out her hands to little May, who ceased crying and threw out her soft, white arms to be taken.

Robin jumped up, and catching hold of her dress gave a sigh of relief, saying, "Does Mother want me, Miss Marian, to give me my goodnight kiss?"

"Yes, she does; but she is very, very ill, and you must be so quiet and gentle. The doctor is there, and he says if he lets you come, there must be no noise. Try and not cry if you think Mother looks ill, or she will get worse. Will you promise?"

"Yes we will try hard," said Rose. "But Mother will soon get well again, won't she? Cannot Doctor Brookland give her some good medicine to make her cheeks rosy once more?"

"I cannot promise, dear, but come quietly now."

And carrying the baby, and taking Robin by the hand, she opened the bedroom door.

Chapter 2: Mother's Last Farewell

Mrs. Rivers, before she married had been Marian Brookland's nurse, and Marian, whose mother had died when she was a baby, had grown very fond of her. Mrs. Rivers's name before she married was Alice Clark, and she always thought a great deal of little Marian. She used to carry her out into the meadows and play games with her, finding all the sweetest wildflowers to make wreaths for her hat. Then, when a little older, Alice used to go with her when Dr. Brookland visited those of his patients who lived some distance off, and wait with Marian in the carriage while he made his calls.

In the evening Alice used to take Marian on her knee and tell her interesting stories, and rock her to sleep in her arms, so that the little girl grew very fond of her nurse, and cried heartily when she left her to be married to John Rivers. But he had been lost at sea six months after little May was born, and his grief-stricken wife never got over it. While she fretted and pined, a violent and neglected cold brought her down to this sad state of sickness.

She, a good mother, had shown her children much love, but not knowing the Lord Jesus as her Saviour till her illness, they had heard little of His grace and love to poor sinners. She never allowed them to play with the rough children of the village. Occasionally she went to church, but took little interest in what she heard there, and only recently had she learned of the great love of God in giving Jesus to die for her sins.

Like many other people, she knew she was a sinner, but had not felt her sin to be a heavy burden. At last, however, her eyes were opened to see that she was a ruined and helpless sinner, and that unless her guilt was washed away she would be lost forever. Then, when she saw Jesus as the Saviour, the One who "bore our sins in His own body on the tree," she received Him gladly and found peace.

What a Saviour the Lord Jesus Christ is! Is He your Saviour? You need the Lord Jesus. If you are satisfied with yourself and your actions, you are not longing after Him. When you see that you cannot save yourself, then you will be glad to hear of a Saviour who has done all for you, and who will receive you, pardon you, care for you and guide you safely to glory. Only you must believe on Him.

Dr. Brookland was one of those whom people generally call a "good man." He gave to the poor when they were in need; he always had a kind word for them, especially if they were in trouble, and he attended the village church regularly. He read his Bible, and he found pleasure in it, but he was not so sure of his own salvation as to be able

"To tell to others round

What a dear Saviour he had found, And point to the redeeming blood, And say, 'Behold the way to God.' "

When he knew his patients could not recover, he would speak to them of the importance of being prepared, but, being a reserved man, he shrank from speaking much to others on these matters.

Marian, too, was like many others: she was gentle and kind to all, was glad to help any in trouble, but was a stranger to the Lord Jesus Christ. She did not know Him as her Redeemer, as the One who had come to save her soul from hell. But when she thought that her dear loved nurse must die, she began to wonder if she were ready to meet God, and fit for heaven, and bought some little gospel booklets, which she slipped into Mrs. Rivers's hands.

Mrs. Rivers read them, and found they directed her to the Bible. To the Bible she turned, and found words of peace and comfort.

"Come unto Me . . . and I will give you rest" (Matt. 11:28), said Jesus, and her heart replied, "Yes, Lord, I will come, just as I am."

And who ever came and did not find rest?

But what about the children?

Her one brother, a farmer, who lived sixteen miles away, had been very kind to her since her husband's death, and John Clark promised to care for the children, and either to provide for them or take them home with him. She was expecting this brother as the children were taken upstairs to wish her good night.

A change for the worse had taken place, and she was now lying faint upon her bed. The room was partly darkened through the little cotton curtain being drawn across the window. A neighbor was fanning the sufferer on one side, while the doctor was getting some medicine to revive her a little, but as the children came in he moved to the bottom of the bed.

Their mother tried to rouse herself, and looking at Rose, said faintly -

"Goodbye, Rose. I am going away from you for a little while, but I hope you will follow me. I am going to a better land. Go to the Sunday school, and you will learn about the Saviour who died for me. Accept Him as your Saviour and Friend. Take care of your little brother and sister, and be very kind to Robin. Remember that though he is often troublesome he is not a bad boy, and keep him from getting into trouble if you can. Be sure and watch over baby. Poor baby! no father, no mother! but God will care for you, and I think your uncle will be good to you. Kiss me, Rose — you have been a good child to Mother. God bless you!"

They lifted the little sobbing child to the bed, to receive her mother's last kiss. She said not a word, but she held the pillow tight with one hand while she put the other into her mother's, and tried to stifle the sobs that would arise.

When she was taken down, the neighbor wanted to lead her from the room, but she half whispered, half cried, "Oh, let me stay," and her mother's look said, "Leave her," so she stayed.

Robin had hidden his face — half in fear, half in grief — in Miss Brookland's dress, while she urged him to be quiet. But when his mother said,

"Robin, come and kiss me," he looked up, and quite reassured, answered cheerfully,

"Yes, I will come, Mother," and prepared to clamber on the bed.

He was a little frightened at her pale face and faint voice, but it was Mother, and with his child-like curiosity he said, patting her cheek:

"Has the doctor given you good medicine, and are you going to get well again, and come into the meadows with Rose and me? I'll pick you a lot of flowers, Mother."

Her voice trembled, and nearly gave way as she answered:

"Thank you, Robbie. I know you love Mother, but God wants me to go to His beautiful home and soon I hope you will come too. Promise to try and be a good boy when I am gone. Be obedient and faithful to Rose, and love baby, and always pray to the Saviour. I wish I had taught you more about Him."

"When are you coming back?" asked Robin.

His mother tried to speak, but her voice failed, and, kissing the little boy, she sank back exhausted.

Robin slipped down from the bed and out of the room, and the baby, eighteen months old, was placed by the side of its mother.

Tears came into the dying woman's eyes, and rolled down her hollow cheeks, as she gazed on the little one so fondly loved, and as soon as she could speak, said:

"Baby, good-bye, you — will — never remember me, but O Saviour, watch this little lamb and bring it safe to glory."

Then she kissed her child, and begged them to leave it while it slept.

So the fair, fresh baby lay quietly sleeping beside the dying mother, whose feebly beating heart was aching at the thought of parting.

Marian stood by, watching, but saying little; now she moistened the lips of the sufferer, while she whispered:

"Dear Nurse, again let me assure you I will, as far as I can, watch over the children; they shall be provided for as long as Father and I live, and if their uncle fails to take them in, we will provide a home for them."

"God bless you, Miss Marian," murmured her old nurse. "May you through our precious Saviour reach the heavenly land."

Robin was found by the doctor at the garden gate. He was looking eagerly down the road.

"What are you doing here, Robin?"

"I am just looking for the carriage that's to take Mother to the beautiful place. I don't want her to go, so I am watching to keep it away, or else they must take me, too, or I'll . . . " — and Robin put on a defiant air.

"Hush, hush, little one, God will send His angels," said the doctor. "Here is something to comfort you," and he slipped some money into the boy's hand as he drove away.

"I will give it to the angels if they will take me," thought Robin, as he looked up at the bright sky, and wondered how they could fly down all that way. Then, full of hope, he trotted into the cottage. He was too young to realize what the loss of a kind, watchful, loving mother meant to him. None other could ever give to him the care and affection that the heart of a mother alone can give to her own child. But God Himself looks down on the orphan and declares out of His great heart of pity and compassion that He will be "a Father of the fatherless." Psa. 68.5.

Chapter 3: The Drive to the Farm

John Clark came that night, and it was arranged that he should take the children home the next day. He was a kind-hearted, upright man, and he thought it a shame that any one else should need to look after his sister's children, while he had a home to give them.

His only child, Jack, a boy of ten years of age, gave him little pleasure, and being very fond of children, he liked the thought of having these little ones about him. His wife, a quick-tempered, irritable woman, failed to make his home happy, and had spoiled their only child. She did not like the thought of the children's coming, but her husband had asserted his authority and told her firmly, "It will have to be."

Dr. Brookland kindly offered to help John Clark with the expense. The Clarks owned a small, prosperous farm near a country village, and John being a steady, industrious man, was each year able to save a little money.

Next day the children's clothes were collected and put together in a small box, and the three little ones were lifted into the wagon beside the farmer.

Their kind friend, Miss Brookland, parted from them with tears in her eyes, and slipped a bit of money into each little hand. Their mother was not expected to live more than twenty-four hours.

At first they clung to Marian crying, and could not be persuaded to leave happily, but when she drew a pleasant picture of the farmhouse to which they were going, and the drive by the way, they allowed the kind-hearted farmer to place them in the wagon. They did not know they were going to live with their uncle, but just thought that he was going to take them for a short visit to his farm.

Rose held little May tightly in her arms as they drove off, but Robin was looking full in his uncle's face, and as he saw a tear roll down his cheeks, he said, "What are you crying for?"

The farmer did not answer, but turned away his head and snapped the whip at his horse, after which he examined his whip handle carefully.

"What did you cry for?" said Robin, pulling his sleeve.

The farmer's chest heaved as he answered, while he drew his hand across his eyes,

"I was very fond of your mother when I was a lad, Robin; she was a good sister to me."

"Did you love my mother?" asked Robin, getting close to his uncle.

"Yes I did, and so I do now, little one."

"Well, I'm glad," answered the child, "I suppose you will love us too. But did you know, Uncle John, my mother is going away to a beautiful land? I hope she will soon come back, but I'm to go and see her there. Will you take me?"

"Some day," he answered, not knowing what else to say to the child's question.

"Thank you," said Robin, clapping his hands; "Rose, we will all of us go together at the very same time."

"Oh, how is little Rose getting on?" said her uncle, turning round kindly. "Whenever will you stop wearing that solemn little face? I have lots of nice things around my house. There are pigs, and cows, and chickens, and pretty flowers, and if you are a good child to your aunt, you'll get along well. Now, gee up, old horse," he said, touching the steady old mare, and on she trotted, jolting the children in the wagon, and making them swing first to one side and then to the other.

They jolted away for more than two hours. The evening grew dim; the sun sank down behind the trees, leaving a bright red glow. The little birds began to chirp their evening songs, and the thrush sent out every now and then his clear wild note.

The baby laughed and tried to talk. Now and then she would say, "Mum, mum," and pat Rose's face so prettily to make her smile, that eventually Rose half forgot her sadness, and began to join in May's merry ways.

Soon their uncle said, "In five minutes we shall be home. Listen, Robin, and you'll hear Bouncer bark."

"Is he a dog?" asked Robin. "I like dogs, and horses. I almost wish I was one."

"Yes, he is a dog, but don't go too near him at first because he is fierce. He'll bite you."

"Dogs never bite me," said Robin, solemnly. "You'll just see if they do."

Chapter 4: The Mistress of Upland Farm

"Here we are," said John Clark (with a very uneasy feeling) as they entered a gate by the roadside, and drew up before an old-fashioned looking farmhouse. His wife was not prepared to take the children immediately. Her husband had said nothing about bringing them back with him that day, and during his ride home he had begun to wonder what sort of welcome she would give the little ones, and whether she would make the house a little uncomfortable for him.

However, he put on a cheery face, and a cheery voice, as he called out throwing the reins to a laborer who stood by,

"Here we are, Sarah; I've brought these young ones back with me. This is your aunt; Rose and Robin, go and kiss her," he added, lifting the children out.

"What on earth have you brought these children for?" said his wife, who had by this time reached the doorstep.

She was looking down upon them as they stood, or rather tottered on the pathway, for the long ride in a cramped position had caused them to feel very unsteady on their legs, and Robin almost fell over when he was first set on his feet.

"I brought them," answered her husband, "because poor Alice is dying."

For a moment Mrs. Clark was silenced by the news, then she stood quite still with her hands at her sides and looked at the children, while she said,

"And I suppose you think I can take three children in without a minute's notice, three useless children; there is not one that can help himself, and I am sure that boy will be always in mischief along with Jack."

"Well we must make them welcome, poor motherless things; isn't that little one just the size of our Nelly whom we lost?"

Mr. Clark hoped to touch his wife's feelings by that statement. Some years before her little girl of a year old of whom she was very fond had died, and since then she had gradually become sad and irritable.

She stood for a moment uncertain whether to take this pretty motherless little one into her arms, at the remembrance of her own dead baby, or treat it as an intruder — as one who could never take the place of the child she had lost. Ill temper would most likely as usual have prevailed, had not little May felt hungry and tired of Rose's arms, and made a piteous face at Mrs. Clark, saying, "Mum, mum."

"Here, give that child to me," she cried, taking it from Rose. "Since you have come, I suppose we must find room for you, though where to put you all I don't know." The woman turned from the bigger ones as she spoke, and gave May a gentle squeeze, and pressed a kiss on her soft cheek, saying, "I'll take you and keep you for my own baby."

Had not the farmer taken the other two by the hand, they might have stood upon the gravel path all night, for Mrs. Clark shut the door as she entered the house. She wanted to have a good cry over May, for the sight of the child, and the feel of her in her arms, had wakened all her disappointed, rebellious feelings on the loss of her own child. She had never held a baby since its death.

"Sarah has a queer temper," sighed the farmer as he led the children in, and found the kitchen empty. His wife and May were nowhere to be seen.

"Well, now, what shall I do with you two little ones? You are hungry and tired, I know. Take off your hats and jackets, and sit on this little stool. It doesn't seem cheery for you, but perhaps Jack will come in soon and stir up the place."

Rose felt very desolate. She looked round the large kitchen, with clean sanded bricks, white dresser, and long row of plates and dishes, with a kind of awe. She saw the large kitchen clock which was ticking in the corner, and all the bright pots and pans on the mantel, yet it did not look like home, and a lonely feeling crept over her as the thought of "Mother" came back; so she sat down on the little wooden stool, and tried to lift Robin, by taking him round his waist, into her lap. He was so bewildered that he forgot to struggle, and sat in a most uncomfortable and sliding position while the farmer opened the kitchen door leading to the passage, and called, "Susan."

He called three or four times without receiving any answer; finally a young woman opened a door on the opposite side of the passage, put out her head and cried, "Yes, Master?"

She had a bright, kindly face, with rosy cheeks and dark brown hair, which was drawn back and gathered behind her head under a white cap.

Susan was busy cleaning pots and pans in the dairy when she was called, and had been preparing for the next day's churning. As she rubbed and brightened the tins and basins, and set them on the wide shelves, she sang to herself, and so busy had she been, that she did not hear her master and the children enter. She was singing,

"Now I have found a Friend,
Jesus is mine;
His love can never end,
Jesus is mine."

"I've brought the children you heard me telling your Mistress about the other day. I've brought them rather unexpectedly, and I want you to make the little ones comfortable; it is so lonesome for them."

"I'll be ready in a minute, Master," answered Susan, pulling down her sleeves and apron, and calling a little girl named Jenny to go on wiping out the pans, she proceeded to the kitchen with a bright and happy face.

Susan had learned that secret which alone can make us truly happy. She had learned, first, that she was sinful and helpless — that in her dwelt no good thing, and then she learned that all is to be found in Christ — salvation, peace and joy. Now Jesus was her Friend, and she could sing with gladness,

"Jesus is mine,"

and with a heart set free and happy in the knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ, she could tell the glad tidings to others, and could forget about herself and soothe and sympathize with the brokenhearted.

It makes grown-up people and children so happy when they have peace with God. They are not afraid to die, and while they live, they can look up to heaven and know that their Father is there, that He cares for them every day, and everything that happens to them in this world is for their good.

But how can we have peace with God?

We are sinners and He is holy. No sin can enter His presence, and we cannot put our own sins away. God formed a plan by which we may be brought near to Him. He sent His beloved Son into the world to take the guilty sinner's place. God says that "the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin" (1 John 1:7), and that "whosoever believeth in Him . . . [hath] everlasting life." John 3:16.

Now, those who rest in the finished work of Christ, and believe He died in their place and rose again (showing that sin is put away and God is satisfied), have eternal life, and peace with God.

Susan believed on Jesus, and so had peace with God.

When she entered the kitchen, there were the children. "Are these all?" she asked, as she kissed them, and smiled to see both crowded onto the little wooden stool.

"No," answered Rose, brightening as she saw Susan's kind face. "There's little May, and I want her so much. A lady has carried her away, and I am afraid May will be frightened without me."

"I don't like the person who took May," said Robin, sternly. "She did not look a bit kind, and I believe she is going to hurt her, or something." As Robin said this, his eyes grew very large and his cheeks very rosy, and he pressed his little red lips tightly together.

Susan tried not to laugh as she unbuttoned his coat, but the farmer said,

"Hush, lad! you must not say things like that, or your aunt will punish you. But you are going to be a good little lad, I think, and Susan will look after you. Give them some tea and toasted scones, and ask your mistress where they shall sleep. She has taken the baby away. It reminds her of our little Nelly who died five years ago, and I think she will take kindly to her for the sake of her own. She is very much like our Nelly was when she died, just the same size. Maybe it will help to soften her heart," murmured the farmer, as he went quickly out into the farmyard.

Chapter 5: The Children Find a Friend

Susan had been at Upland Farm for more than three years, and made herself generally useful in and out of doors. She milked the cows, and helped to make the butter, and attended to the dairy, and sometimes helped her mistress in the house.

Jenny was hired by the day, to do the odd things that no one else found time to do. She was a little red-haired, freckled girl, who lived with her grandmother up on the hill, and had just begun to make herself useful. Her home had been in Scotland till her parents' death, and when she first came south, three years before, she was very "Scotch" in her ways and words, but three years among the country people in England had done much towards breaking her of her northern expressions, and she had adopted many English words instead.

As soon as the farmer left the kitchen she left her dairy. Creeping, pan in hand, close to the door leading to the passage, which had been left a little open, she looked in. Jenny was curious to see what the children were like.

"That wee lassie's not as big as I am, but she ought to be able to give me a helping hand now and again. The missus will certainly see to that! No fear! I know that laddie will soon get a beating from Master Jack. Ay, but he's got nice red cheeks. I'm glad they've come; the place will not seem so drear."

At this moment Mrs. Clark came down the passage, and poor Jenny could not escape. In her fright she dropped her pan, which clattered on the bricks and rolled to her mistress's feet. Jenny got what she called a good "flighting," and shrunk back into the dairy trembling from head to foot.

"Well, Susan, here is a handful," said Mrs. Clark. "Your master has brought these children down on me like a thunder cloud. They'll just be turning the house upside down, and putting every one off their work. That idle Jenny's been looking through the door here the last half-hour, and leaving her work. What are you doing now? Feeding them? Oh, I daresay there'll be plenty of that. Go and get that old iron bedstead put up in your room as quickly as you can, and get them off to bed. You will find their clothes, if they've got any, in the old box standing there."

Susan was going to lead them off, but they both stood still.

"Please," said little Rose, "where is May? My mother told me always take care of her, and I think she will fret if she is alone."

"What have you done with her?" asked Robin, solemnly.

"She is safe enough," answered their aunt. "She's gone to sleep."

"My mother said I was to love her," said Robin, "and how can I if you take her away and shut her up?"

"No nonsense," said their aunt impatiently. "Go to bed and to sleep, and you will see her in the morning. I have other things to do beside standing here talking to you."

But Rose lingered, her eyes filling with tears. "I must have May."

"I tell you no, you cannot; she's asleep, and it won't do to waken her. Go, now," and her aunt closed the door.

Susan led them away, but no sooner had she reached her room than Rose gave way to a burst of tears.

"Come, come," said Susan, kindly, "don't cry, little girl. Mistress will take care of your little sister. I think she has taken a liking to her, and you'll get her back tomorrow. I daresay it seems lonesome to you. How is your mother?"

Little Rose sobbed, "I believe mother is very sick. I don't quite know what is wrong with her. I heard them say something about her not keeping — alive. Oh, dear! I love her so."

Robin cried bitterly, calling for his mother, till Susan's heart ached.

"What will I do with you?" she said. "Don't cry. You are going to sleep with me, and you will soon be happy."

"I think you seem a kind girl," said Robin, drawing a long sobbing breath, "but I feel as if I want to give some one a good-night kiss."

"Well, come here now. I know how to give you that, little man; just you put on your pajamas and climb up on my knee. You are weary; I was weary once, but now I have found a Friend,

`Jesus is mine.'

"Rosie, you climb up on the other knee. Now isn't that nice?" and she kissed first one cheek and then another.

"That's somehow like Mother did it, but you said you had a Friend. Who is it?"

"Have you not heard of Jesus? Would you not like to say a little prayer before you go to sleep?"

"I always say, 'Pray, God bless me, and make me a good boy, take care of Mother, for Christ's sake. Amen.' "

"And what do you say, Rosie?"

"I say the same, only I don't call myself a boy, you know, but last night, when I said good night to mother, she told me to make the Saviour (I think she said) my Friend. It is Him we pray to, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is to Jesus, who loved us and died for us, to save us. We pray to Him. But I must not stay talking now; get into bed, like good children, and tomorrow, if it please God, I'll tell you more. Jesus who lives above the bright blue sky wants to bless you, to make you happy, and to take care of you. He is very great as well as good, and if you trust Him He will make you glad." And kissing them again, she left to answer her mistress's sharp call, and was rebuked for being so long.

Half an hour after, Susan peeped into the bedroom and found Robin tossed sideways fast asleep, looking the picture of health, but Rose was nowhere to be seen. The girl was frightened and called her by name, but no answer. Opening the door, she saw a little white figure coming down the stairs carrying the baby.

"Rose, child, what a fright you gave me — what are you doing?"

"I am bringing May down. I heard her cry and cry, and I followed after the noise, and I found her sitting up in a great big bed alone in the dark. I quieted her in my arms. See her little hands round my neck! I could not leave her alone, so I brought her, and Susan, I will keep her now. See her little face with a tiny tear! I suppose she was crying for Mother or me. Susan, can you tell me, what has happened to Mother? If she is — you know," added Rose, piteously.

"I think she is going away from the earth, but let's hope to a brighter, happier place. It seems she has found a Saviour and friend in Jesus from what you say, and so she is just going to Him, and you will go some day. There, cuddle little May and keep her warm. I'll manage that you have her tonight."

In five minutes Rose was fast asleep, though with tears upon her cheek.

Mrs. Clark was very angry at first at Rose's interference about May — she wanted to keep the child to herself, and try to fill the void her baby had left behind. But when Susan told the story, her heart softened a little and she said no more that night.

Chapter 6: Jack and His Cousins

The next day the children were allowed to run over the farm, and they delighted in roaming about — Robin especially — to see the farm horses and the large wagons, and to peep into the stables and barns. Near the house was a paddock, where two young colts with their long tails and manes were running loose, and round the sides were leafy trees and high hedges, where violets and primroses grew in the springtime. Then there was a little orchard, full of apple, pear and plum trees, and in the yard was Bouncer, a huge dog, who could hardly understand what the children wanted there and who moved about uneasily clanking his chain. Even the pigsties fascinated the children.

Saturday was always a busy day, and no one could pay much attention to them. Mrs. Clark had her baking and cooking to attend to. Susan cleaned the house and put all in readiness for the next day. Jenny was called this way and that to brush boots, empty water, wash dishes, and receive many a scolding from her mistress.

Mrs. Clark was a person who was apt to bestow her temper and impatience on anyone who was near her, and that person was more often Jenny than any other. Susan rarely laid herself open to a scolding, and Mrs. Clark was afraid of losing her, for she knew Susan could easily get another job in the neighborhood, whereas she could not so easily get as good a servant again.

Should her pies or bread get burnt, the milk turn sour or one of the best fowls die, and put her out of temper, the calamity was not borne patiently, but the first trifling offence on the part of another would make her lose her temper.

Mrs. Clark was not always cross. Sometimes after an outburst she felt considerably relieved in her mind, and could be quite agreeable for a little while. This Saturday she had not recovered from her annoyance of the night before, and so the breakfast meal was not the most comfortable affair.

Jack had come home late the night before, and had not spoken to his cousins till now. This was not the first time they had met. His father had driven him over to see his Aunt Alice two or three times before, but he had behaved in such a way as to make the children afraid of him, so that they did not now meet him very cheerfully.

"You are the boy who climbed our cherry tree, and ate so much," said Robin.

Jack laughed. "Didn't I? and stuffed my pockets too! I imagine your mother did not sell as many last year as usual."

"Mother said you broke the branches and spoiled the look of the tree," said Rose. "She was so sorry, because Father planted it."

"I don't think you are a good boy at all," added Robin. "You pushed me into a big hole, and made me cut my knees."

"You had better not talk like that to me, youngsters," said Jack, with a frown on his face. "If you come and eat our bread, you will find it best to be polite," and he caught Robin's arm, and held it tight. "Beg my pardon, or—" and he raised his hand.

"I'm not going to beg. Uncle Clark is going to give me my dinners, and I don't know what `arding' is," answered Robin, turning red and frightened, but standing his ground.

"Hallo, what's the matter, Jack? You are not hurting the boy? Let go," said his father, who entered the kitchen at this moment.

"What! quarreling already," exclaimed his mother, coming in at the door. "Didn't I tell you so, Clark? The boys will never agree. Shame on you, Robin, to begin tormenting your cousin so soon."

"Please, Aunt," said Rose, "I don't think Robin meant any harm."

"Hold your tongue, and come to breakfast," answered her aunt.

Jack nodded his head at Robin, as much as to say "Wait till I find you alone."

Certainly Robin did not look a very formidable enemy, as he stood facing Jack, hardly knowing whether to be frightened or not, twisting a corner of his shirt with his fingers, and trying to still the quivering of his lip. As Susan lifted him on his chair, he put his arms up round her neck, and in a loud whisper said,

"Susan, I know that bad boy is going to frighten me; don't you let him."

"All right, honey. Eat your breakfast now," she answered assuringly.

Chapter 7: Jack's Revenge on Robin

Breakfast being over, the children were sent out to play, with orders to keep out of mischief, and preparations for the morning's work began.

Mrs. Clark prided herself upon her baking, especially her light bread, pies and puddings. She also took pride in her butter and her household arrangements. No sooner were the breakfast things washed up, than she lifted down her great cooking board and began operations. She put on a large white apron, and turned up her sleeves. Then with a heavy bunch of keys in hand, and Jenny at her heels, she visited larder, storeroom, and pantry. She dug into the flour-bin, and, after filling a large tin, she sent Jenny back with it to the kitchen. Then a beautiful pat of yellow butter followed, and after it apples, salt pork, herbs, potatoes, onions, fresh milk, and eggs. Mrs. Clark then proceeded to heat the oven, and call for saucepans and goblets, and Jenny had enough to do, to run here and there and everywhere.

Once, in her eagerness to hurry, she fell flat over the cat, and bruised her knees and her elbow on the brick floor of the kitchen.

"Jenny, you careless thing, what have you broken now? You are always breaking something."

"I've not broken anything, but just bruised my arms and legs."

"That's all right," exclaimed her mistress, in a relieved tone (thinking, I presume, of her dishes). "Take care you never do worse. But there is no time to waste grumbling over your own carelessness. Go to the spring, and fetch me a pail of water."

Jenny opened the kitchen door, and limped, pail in hand, across the yard, which was enclosed by railings. Here stood a hen-coop, within which was a large motherly hen, whose eight downy chicks were busy picking up odd grains and crumbs. Here also stood Bouncer's kennel, and Bouncer himself attached to it by a strong chain.

Jenny opened a gate on the other side of the yard, and after walking a few steps, found herself among the barns, cowsheds, pigsties, and stables. Passing between the large barn and the cowshed, she came on the stacks and hay ricks, which stood in the east meadow.

The east meadow rose up like a pretty hill, and here the cows were feeding. Beyond it plenty of other fields lay. Some were full of corn, others planted with vegetables, and this beautiful summer morning the scenery looked very pretty, for the fields were well studded with trees, and the hedges were loaded with leaves and flowers. Butterflies and bees skimmed about in the sunshine; the cows stood lazily brushing off the flies with their tails, and hens strutted round the stacks. Everything looked bright and happy.

Jenny gave a long sigh as she stood gazing round. She was only a child, and was weary of the scoldings she received indoors, and wished very much she could get a quiet game, or rather a little leisure, for she was not very merry, and rarely gave way to childish feelings. After a few minutes, Jenny walked to the side of the meadow, where a stream of water poured from the end of a pipe or trough. She filled the bucket and was turning homewards, when the sound of voices reached her ears, and through a little gap in the hedge she saw Jack and Robin alone.

Jenny was very fond of listening, and suspecting that Jack might be up to mischief, she put down her bucket, and creeping under a bush heard him say,

"Now, young one, I'll make you pay for your behavior to me this morning."

Robin, not understanding the meaning, answered,

"I can't pay for anything. I've got no money, but a little bit that Miss Marian gave me, and I'm going to buy Mother a new gown with it. What do you look so cross for? That isn't a nice face for a boy to wear."

"Never you mind. Would you like to climb a tree? Because I'll push you up, if you put your feet in these holes in the trunk; then you can sit on the branches, and see a great distance."

Of course Robin was delighted with the prospect, and scrambled up the tree eagerly, while Jack pushed him behind.

"Now, catch hold of that branch, and you will be safe."

Robin struggled and writhed, and at last succeeded in righting himself; then Jack stepped down and asked him how he liked it.

"Fine," said Robin, "only it shakes rather."

This idea delighted Jack; he seized the end of the branch, which was just within his reach, and shook it.

"Don't! I'll fall," cried the child.

"A fall would do you good, and teach you to behave yourself."

Robin began to cry.

"If you cry out, these cows will come after you."

Frightened and trembling the boy sobbed out, "Take me down, Jack."

At this moment Jenny jumped up, and came from behind the hedge. She was a kind-hearted girl, though blunt in her ways.

"Master Jack, aren't you ashamed to torment a wee boy so? You know you would not like to be treated so yourself; lift him down."

Jack turned upon Jenny in a fury. He told her to go about her business, or he'd tell his mother she had been idling, and in no gentle words, called her a busybody and a listener.

Jenny waited, but Jack would not relent, nor lift down nor help the child. He would not permit her to try either, and fearing the scolding she would receive for being late with the water, she slowly lifted her bucket and turned towards the house. Soon she quickened her steps, and meeting Susan in the yard, told her story. Jenny knew that she might meet with a cuff or a kick from Jack, but she felt too sorry for little Robin to hesitate.

Susan started away for the east meadow, and Jenny went to her work. Susan walked carefully, keeping the hedge between her and the boys.

Robin was still on the branch, and Jack was lying on the grass, a little way off, teasing him.

Suddenly Susan broke upon them with a "Shame on you, Jack," and held out her arms to take Robin down.

The little fellow, shaking in every limb, could hardly hold on to the tree. No sooner was he in Susan's arms than he cried hard and clung to her neck. She turned from Jack with a pitying glance saying,

"Jack, what will become of you, if you go on in such hard-hearted ways?" and left the field with Robin.

"I thought that cow would torse me if I cried." said Robin. "Jack is cruel; I can't stand him."

"Hush, hush, that is wrong," answered Susan, "you must keep out of his way, and not anger him."

"I'll never say another word to him, nor ever play with him again; he's bad."

"When you have got over your angry feelings you will think differently, Robin. Poor little man, you did get a fright, and it was unkind of Jack, but you must forgive and forget. Do you know that we all have naughty hearts, and have all sinned against God, but He is full of love and mercy, and willing to forgive us if we turn to Him?"

"Have I a naughty heart?" asked Robin.

"Yes; my Bible tells me that all of us, old and young, have naughty hearts, and are full of sinful thoughts and ways, but the Lord Jesus, the One your mother wished you to know and to have for your Friend, died to put away sin, and all who trust in Him get their sins forgiven. Without this, no one can get to the beautiful land your mother is going to."

"Oh," said Robin, with a great breath, "I wish mine were."

"The Lord Jesus is willing," she answered. "Will He forgive Jack?"

"If he is sorry for his sin, and comes to Jesus."

"I should not like him to go to that land," said Robin, pouting. "I believe he would be unkind there!"

"No, no, he couldn't. No unkindness can ever be there, nor anything that is sinful."

"Oh," answered Robin again.

They had now reached the farm, and Susan gave the little boy over to his sister's care, for she and May were playing in the great empty barn, and here the children forgot their sorrows in a good game of hide-and-seek till called for dinner.

During this meal Jack was very quiet; he was not sure whether Susan had told his father or even his mother of his unkindness to Robin, and though his mother generally took his part before others, she often gave him a sound scolding, or box on the ears, if she caught him alone after a fault.

Mr. Clark went over the next day to see his sister and found she had passed peacefully away that morning. Her kind friends had cared for her to the last, and anxiously questioned the farmer about the children. Marian promised to drive over in a week or two, and see them. Mr. Clark waited to make arrangements about the funeral and the furniture, and then drove home. He asked Susan to tell the children as he could not bear to do it, so that evening the little ones learned they were motherless, and though they shed tears and sobbed for a long time that night, Susan's kindness at last soothed them and they fell quietly asleep.

Chapter 8: A Little Talk About Jesus

"Susan," said Mrs. Clark one or two days later, "I want you to go to West Park House, and take Mrs. Brown the butter and eggs this evening, twelve pounds of butter, and eight dozen eggs, besides the fowls and bacon she ordered. Jimmy can drive you in the cart, as he is going past there on an errand for your master, and you can walk back."

"Yes, ma'am," answered Susan; "I've cleared up all but what Jenny can finish. Perhaps I might take the children along with me? it will get them out of your way."

"Sure enough, they'll only be in mischief here. You can take Robin and Rose, and leave May to me; she is asleep, and I'll see to her when she wakes."

Mrs. Clark was glad of the opportunity to get May to herself. She had been petting the child and bribing her with treats, so that the little one was not afraid of her, and as babies always cling to older persons, she went naturally to her aunt.

About half-past five, Susan and the two children, with the fowls, bacon, butter, and eggs, were stowed away in the cart on a bundle of straw, with Jim the driver. It was a lovely evening, and the little folks were very happy; perhaps Susan's smiling face had a great deal to do with it. Bouncer barked at them as they drove out of the yard, and frightened hens and ducks flew from beneath the horse's feet. After a few minutes Robin said,

"It seems just as if we were driving to the beautiful land where Mother's gone!"

"That's heaven," said Rose quietly; "we can't get there by a horse and wagon."

"How do we?" asked Robin.

"I don't quite know," she answered. "I know people are put in graves when they die, but that always seems to me like going down, not up."

At the thought of her mother, Rose hung her head and moved nearer to Susan, saying, "You tell us about it."

"Have you ever been to a Sunday school?" asked Susan.

"Only a few times; the school was too far away from us. We went once or twice last spring. Mother said she hoped we would go now."

"I'll ask Master to let you go into Mr. Rowland's class. It will soon begin again. He takes a number of little boys and girls on Sunday afternoon, and tells them all these things. I go to a Bible class of Miss Rowland's. A real nice lady she is. She loves the Lord Jesus Christ and likes to tell others about Him."

"Why does she love Him?" asked Robin.

"Because she says that 'He first loved her.' But I'll tell you what you asked me, if I can. Those grown-ups or little children who are saved through the Lord Jesus — I mean whose sins are forgiven, and who are made white and clean by His blood — when they leave this world they fall asleep in Jesus; their spirits go to Him and live forever with Him. Soon He will give them a new and glorious body like Himself. They never sin again, or feel unhappy or sorrowful, and they never die, but are always happy."

"Oh, what a nice place for my mother to be in," exclaimed Robin, "I shall go there too."

"But listen, Robin and Rose. Are you ready to go? Many children say they would like to go to heaven, but all in that happy land are washed from their sins by the Saviour's blood, and made white and clean. Do you think you would be ready now to stand before God. You are not fit, as you are, to go to heaven, and stand before Him. You have naughty hearts; you must have your sins forgiven, and you must be made new creatures. Do you think your sins are pardoned?"

"I don't know," they both replied. "I wish Jesus would forgive me," added Rose.

"Do you think you are a sinner, Rosie?"

"I don't remember doing a great many naughty things," she answered slowly.

"Have you done one?"

"Oh, yes; I remember more than one."

"You know, Rose, that day you took May out, when Mother said 'No,' " suggested Robin.

"Yes, and more than once I picked the fruit when I was told not to do so."

"Well, one sin is enough to show you are a sinner, but see if you have done all the things you ought to. Have you always been thankful and loving to God, who made you, and gave you so many good things?" asked Susan.

"No; I never heard much about it."

"Have you always been obedient and truthful, and loved other people as much as yourself?"

"No, no," they both replied.

"Well, dear little children, does not this show you are sinners?"

"What shall I do?" asked Rose. "Will I never go to heaven?"

Susan waited a moment, and pressed home the question,

"What can you do, Rosie?"

"If I am always good from now on?"

"You cannot be quite good always, and so you will always be adding to your load of sin, but, if you could, how about the past? Can you wash past sins away?"

"Water wouldn't do it, would it?" asked Robin.

"No; water could not; nor prayers, nor tears."

Rose buried her face in Susan's lap, crying, "What shall I do, Susan? I don't want to go away — away."

"Listen, Rose. You deserved to go away from God, and so did I, and we could not save ourselves. But God is love, as well as holy, and He gave His Son to die in our place. Jesus came to take our sins upon Himself, and to bear the punishment that we deserved. Listen to God's own words, 'God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' What did we deserve? To die, wasn't it? Yes, and He shed His precious blood, and that can cleanse away your sins and naughtiness. God always sees the blood of Jesus, and if any little boy or girl trusts in that, and loves the One who shed it, they are forgiven, and God declares they are clean."

Rose looked up through her tears, "Susan, I wish I were."

"Do you, dear? Then believe God's good news to us. It is so simple, Rose. Jesus did the work for you that you couldn't do, and, if you believe it from your heart, and thank Him, you get everlasting life."

"He is very good," said Rose, yet with a troubled face.

"You must just trust Him."

Robin was partly listening, and partly attending to the horse and his driver. As they drew up to the house, he drew a long sigh, and said, "Susan, I do wish to go to heaven, and see Mother."

"I wish my sins were forgiven," said Rose.

Susan lifted them out of the cart, and, as they walked up the carriage drive, she looked at the children's faces. One was grave and a little troubled, the other sunny and laughing, and she thought, "I once wished to go to heaven, but it did not concern me much. Then, afterwards, I learned I was a sinner, and I could not rest till I knew my sins were forgiven."

That evening, when Susan was putting the children to bed, Rose whispered, "Will you pray?" and Susan knelt and prayed that the Good Shepherd would hold these lambs in His arms.

Chapter 9: Robin in Trouble

During the next two or three weeks Susan grew very fond of the children, and took great interest and pleasure in them. They were left very much to her charge — they slept with her, and were almost entirely dependent on her for their happiness. They often spoke of their mother, and it was some days before they grew reconciled to the thought of not seeing her again on earth. It was a happy thing for them that Susan could lead their thoughts away to the place where Jesus lives, and that she spoke to them in such a loving way of the Saviour that their young hearts were attracted to Him. Soon their greatest delight was to listen while she talked of Him and the happy world above.

Mrs. Clark watched over and was really kind to little May. She began to take a great pleasure in dressing her, and, as May's stock of clothes was very small, her aunt searched through the drawers and trunks to find material to make some tiny dresses and jackets.

She was not unkind, as a rule, to the other children, yet sometimes treated them as if they were in the way. When irritated or annoyed by their childish ways, and the troubles children do get into, she grew very angry and sometimes treated them harshly. She found she could make use of Rose, and therefore kept her pretty constantly employed one way or another.

The little girl's mother had taught her to work neatly, and Mrs. Clark was very glad to get kitchen cloths and pocket handkerchiefs hemmed. Now Rose did not like to sit at the work very long at a time, and, being only eight years old, it often became tedious. Sometimes she would take her hemming into the dairy, and talk with Susan while she was busy there, or into a lumber room, which Robin and May played in. Sometimes, when Susan had sewing to do too, they used to sit on a seat under an old apple tree and work together.

Then their aunt found they could shell peas, top and tail gooseberries, and string currants, and, as this was preserving time, there was plenty to do.

Little children should always be glad to help, but there is such a thing as older people making the task pleasant as well as useful.

One morning when Mrs. Clark was a little out of temper, several baskets full of fruit were brought in to the kitchen for preserving. There were fine ripe gooseberries, as well as currants. The children were playing very happily in the barn, May being seated on a large bundle of hay, and crowned with a wreath of flowers. Robin had made himself a nest close to her, and was pretending that he was her pony in the stable. Rose was putting sticks together to build a pretend fire, while round her she had collected all sorts of leaves and flowers, and the droppings of the fruit trees to make dinners with. They were having one of those delightful games so dear to all children, when the barn door opened and Jenny put in her head.

"Come away both of you at once. You're to pick over the fruit. Missus has a great big heap indoors. Oh! the bonny wee May!" she cried, catching sight of the baby.

"Oh, dear! what a pity," cried Rose. "I was just getting dinner. I don't much like stringing so many currants; we were having such a fine game."

"I'm not going to come!" cried Robin. "I'm a horse, and horses never have to pick over fruit, and May is a grand lady, and Rose is a servant. Rose is the only one that can do such things, but we want her here."

"What?" cried Jenny, who longed to watch their game, but dared not. "You had better come at once; Missus will be crazy if you don't, and there's a good bit of work to do." So saying, Jenny vanished.

Now all their merry play was over, and the sudden summons had roused Robin's rebellious feelings.

"I can't get going," he said; "I just hate pick, pick, picking gooseberries. I shall stay here."

"I wish we could," said Rose, kicking her dinner away with her feet, "but it's no use, we must go or we shall have a scolding." She lifted May, but May was too happy on the hay, and struggled, and cried. Rose tried to soothe and coax her, but she would not be quiet. "You come, Robin, and then baby will."

But Robin was reckless. He never thought of consequences, and scampered about in the hay, crying out he was a real wild horse. Rose was in despair, and some minutes passed, during which May regained her good temper, and scrambled after Robin, screaming with delight, but would not let her sister carry her. No sooner did she try than May made herself stiff and struggled to be free.

The barn door soon opened again, and this time their aunt came in. She was very angry. She seized Rose, who was nearest to her, and asked what she meant by going on playing when she was sent for.

"I was trying —"

"Be quiet; don't answer me! Go in to the house, and I'll keep you there a pretty good spell this time."

"I'm not coming," shouted Robin; "I am a wild horse, and you can't get hold of me."

His aunt made a dive after him, but he escaped, and, quite forgetting the serious nature of the affair, laughed heartily.

"Try again," he cried; "I'm that colt in the field."

She was very angry with him now, and by a sudden turn laid hold of him, and nearly shook him out of his jacket.

"You bad boy, to give me such trouble. You shall not get any dinner today. You may go and get it where you can. Those who won't work won't eat."

She grasped his arm a little harder than she perhaps intended. Anyhow, a large crimson patch there showed he had reason to call out.

"Stop roaring now," she cried, a little ashamed, as her anger spent itself, "and come with me," and catching up May, she followed Rose.

Robin pulled away, but she held him tight.

"You are very rough," he sobbed. "My mother never shook me like that. I wish I was along with her, if the angels would only take me."

"Aren't you ashamed, Rose, of setting May such an example," said her aunt, paying no attention to the little boy. "She will grow up as disobedient as yourself." Rose was silent, and she first thought of her mother, then of Susan, but Susan was away.

Robin was brought into the kitchen with a jerk that made Jack burst out laughing. He was very busy filling his mouth with fruit when they entered.

"Don't," cried Robin. "You make me feel so angry in my heart."

His anger was not noticed, and in a few minutes they were both seated before a large pile of gooseberries, and were told that they would get no dinner till those were "topped and tailed." The little fingers moved very slowly, and with downcast eyes and unhappy looks they went on with their work. Robin did not long disguise his feelings. He soon fidgetted, and drew very long breaths and yawned.

"Get along, like a good wee boy," whispered Jenny, when her mistress's back was turned, "or you'll get no dinner. See, I have done many more than you."

"I don't care a bit if you have, Jenny. Susan will get me some dinner — she is my friend. My aunt is very unkind."

An hour passed. Rose had finished the gooseberries, and half done her share of currants, while Jenny was clearing the table for dinner. Robin's pile was only half finished. His aunt took no notice of him, but suddenly swept the remainder of the gooseberries into a basin, and carried them across the room, and placed them on the dresser. Then she turned Robin off his chair.

"I'm real glad I'm done," gasped Robin.

"You're no such thing," replied his aunt, "and therefore you go without dinner. If you won't work you won't eat. Now, go and find your own dinner along with the fowls."

"Won't I get a scrap?" he asked, with his head on one side — but she merely opened the kitchen door and put him out, and hurried to set the table for the midday meal.

Their uncle was away at market, or perhaps Mrs. Clark might have chosen another punishment, as Robin sat by his uncle, and generally chatted away to him. Mr. Clark was very fond of the little boy, though being constantly out of doors, he had not much to do with him. Now and again Robin would accompany him a little way on his walks round the farm.

Susan, too, was away cleaning another part of the house. Just as they sat up to the table, she came down, broom in hand. "Where's my boy?" she asked of Rose.

The window was open, and a rosy face was peeping in. Robin had been rubbing his fists into his eyes crying ("greeting," as Jenny called it).

Now he was eagerly watching the dinner, expecting to be called in.

"Here's your boy, Susan. I want you," he said. "I've had no dinner, and I know I'm starving."

Rose looked frightened. "Let me give him some of mine, please, Aunt."

"Not a crumb. He shall learn to obey me when I speak, and so shall you."

Jack made faces at him across the table, and held up a piece of meat on his fork. Robin turned away crying lustily, "Oh, dear, what will I do? I'll starve. I know I shall."

Susan slipped out at the other door, and beckoned him in.

Jack followed her. "Mother says you are not to give him a crumb."

"Very well," said Susan, and Jack returned to his dinner.

"Come here, Robin, and dry your eyes, and tell me all about it."

"I'm not to get any dinner — not a scrap." "I know, but why?"

"Cause I wouldn't tail goosegogs."

"Why would you not?"

"Cause it is such nonsense for her to want such a lot."

"That was not the reason. You were a lazy boy, not my handy little Robin. The bees work hard to get honey, and the ants are busy, and the birds. The horses on the farm draw the plough, the dogs have their work, and surely little boys can do something. Now, if I show you a pretty way to top and tail the gooseberries, will you be quick at them? Remember, Robin, God sees you, and He wishes you to be obedient. He has been so good to you, and you ought to try and please Him. You told me the other day you loved God so much for giving Jesus for you."

"So I do now, Susan, and I'll try again if you will keep beside me, and let me be your helpful boy," he answered, clambering on her knee and nearly choking her with hugs. "Do you think I'll get dinner? I know you wouldn't like me to die!"

"I surely wouldn't, but you must finish the fruit before you think of dinner." ,

She slipped into the kitchen, and brought out the gooseberries. Then she seated Robin on a low stool, and putting a little board in a slanting direction in front of him, and the broom handle longways on the floor at a little distance, told him as he tailed them to run them down the board and the broom would keep them from rolling far. It was a fine game, and Robin laughed as the gooseberries scampered down. He eagerly worked away while Susan busied about and talked to him, till called to help her mistress clear the table.

"Where is Robin?" she asked. "In the back kitchen, Ma'am." "Have you been feeding him?" "No," answered Susan.

"What is he doing."

"Finishing the gooseberries."

"I dare say he is getting hungry, but he'll have to learn that I keep my word," and she locked the pantry and larder door.

When Robin had finished, and Susan had cleared the fruit away, he asked about his dinner. She told him he must wait patiently, as he had not finished his task at the right time.

"I'll go and ask my aunt," he said, and followed by Rose he entered the kitchen. She was not there, so he walked on to the parlor. There she sat at work, with May playing on the floor.

Robin peeped in his head. "Aunt," he cried timidly. No answer. "Aunt, may I get my dinner? I've done ev'ry scrap of the gooseberries and I'm sorry."

"The dinner is eaten and cleared away, I can't have it set again," she replied. "You'll get no meat today."

She did not say "no food," but Robin looked at it in that light, and unable to contain his feelings, he turned away crying. Had he waited, Mrs. Clark after a little discussion would most likely have told him there were some dry crusts he could have, but she would not rise and go after him, and he turned back to Susan.

Susan advised him to be quiet, and if he were really sorry, to sit quite still on his little stool in the kitchen. As he always obeyed her, he sat down saying, "If I die, what shall I do?"

"I don't think you'll die, little man. You will just learn to obey another time. I would sit quite still till my aunt comes in, if I were you, and perhaps if she sees you are not troublesome she may give you something."

Robin's fit of temper was gone, now, and he sat quietly, except that every few minutes he caught Susan's dress in his hand as she went to and fro.

"Tell us a Bible story," asked Rose, coaxingly. "Well, what about?"

"About someone who was hungry," suggested Robin.

"Very well."

Then she told them how our Lord was hungry when He was on earth, He the Lord of heaven who makes the corn to grow, and upholds everything. He was the object of praise and worship in heaven, but He came down here and took the form of a man and humbled Himself, even to death, in order to save us from hell. She told them the story of His being in the wilderness with the wild beasts for forty days and nights, and that afterwards He was hungry. Then Satan came and tempted Him to turn the stones into bread, but Jesus would not listen to Satan's voice. He answered him with God's word, and afterwards angels ministered unto Him. There is a hymn which says,

"There's a wicked spirit Watching round you still, And he tries to tempt you To all harm and ill.

"But you must not hear him, Though `tis hard for you To resist the evil,

And the good to do."

Satan is very busy trying to tempt us every way. He tries to prevent you from coming to the Lord Jesus, and believing on Him, and, if you do believe, and become a little lamb in the Saviour's fold, Satan will try to lead you astray, and tempt you to wander from the right path. But the Good Shepherd knows all His sheep and lambs, and if he misses one from His presence, he will seek it and restore it again to peace and happiness. Jesus hears the feeblest cry for help, and, when Satan tempts you to do evil —little ones who love and trust Him — look up to the Good Shepherd, speak to Him, and ask His help, and you will surely conquer through Him."

When Susan had finished telling them about Jesus in the wilderness, she told them about Elijah's being fed by the ravens, and this so engrossed their attention that more than half an hour passed away. Then their aunt came in and Susan slipped out. She could trust Robin to answer in his straightforward, truthful way, now that his anger was gone.

"Am I naughty yet, Aunt?"

She turned to him, and her face softened as Rose stood close to him, and May toddled up and put her arms round him, crying "Poor."

"No, you don't look naughty now, but what have you had to eat?"

"Nothing; not — the tiniest scrap." "Why are you sitting there?"

"I thought I'd best be quiet."

"Are you sorry for being naughty?"

"Yes, I am, but you don't know how nice it is to be playing at a real wild horse."

"Well, if you are sorry, you'll take that and be glad." And his aunt placed a thick slice of bread and a cup of milk before him. He took it, and as he ate eagerly, she asked how he liked it.

"Lots. I am real glad to get it, I can tell you." And, bearing no malice, he began chatting to his aunt.

It was Susan the children clung to and went to in any kind of trouble, and, remembering that they were little orphans, she cared for them and smoothed their path as best she could. She mended many a torn garment, and rose early to put together new ones for them. Mrs. Rivers's clothes were cut down by Susan for the little girl, and an empty room was fitted up with a few pieces of furniture from Cherry Cottage, while the farmer took care that articles of any worth, which their parents had possessed, should be reserved for them.

Chapter 10: Mr. Rowland's Invitation

A busy time of the year followed. Harvest started, and men and horses were employed cutting down and carting the corn. The children enjoyed it very much —running about the fields, watching the reapers, and getting many a ride in the wagons. They saw more of their uncle during those days, and, as the weather was fine, they stayed out nearly all day long, for their aunt was too busy to assign them their usual tasks. Of course they got into trouble during this time. Robin fell out of the wagon and hurt his head, Rose tore her skirts, and May scratched her arms and legs, and they received many a slight punishment.

If they could do so, they ran to Susan first, to tell her of their troubles. If she thought necessary, she corrected them, and, as they always saw the justice of it, and she used great gentleness, they received it meekly.

One evening the three were sitting in one of the meadows through which there was a public pathway, and Rose was singing a little hymn Susan had taught her -

"I love to hear the story,
Which angel voices tell,
How once the King of Glory
Came down on earth to dwell.

"I am both weak and sinful,
But this I surely know —
The Lord came down to save me,
Because He loved me so."

A gentleman who was passing along, stopped and listened. Then he came up close to them and put his hand on Robin's head.

"Where did you learn that pretty hymn?" he asked.

Rose jumped up and bowed. "Susan taught us to sing it — Susan that lives at my Aunt Clark's, at the Upland Farm."

"I know, I know, and I have heard of you from her." he replied. 'Now tell me, children, do you believe that the Lord Jesus loves you?"

"Yes, I know He does; He died for me," answered Rose.

"And me," said Robin. "He died on the Cross to save us from our sins."

"And you believe you are going to be with Him some day?"

"I hope I am," replied the little girl, "but I don't quite know." and her eyes filled with tears.

"Jesus is there, and Mother, too, and we want to go," said Robin.

"Would you like to be sure you are going?"

"Well, tell me your names, and we will make a little party on the grass, and I will read you some beautiful texts from the Bible," and he read slowly those words of Jesus: — "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on Me hath everlasting life." John 6:47. "God's Word is true, little Rose, and He says if you believe and trust in Him you have everlasting life. What do you have to believe? That Jesus died for you a sinner, that He bore sin on the Cross, and put it away to save you, for you could not save yourself. Now the Lord has risen from the dead. Your debt is paid and your punishment is borne. God will not punish you for your sin now, if you take Jesus as your Saviour.

"Do you understand, Rose?"

"Yes, I do."

"And you will receive Him as yours?" She stopped a minute.

"Yes, I will. Susan often talks to me, and I want to be happy like her, and know my sins are forgiven."

"Well, go home and thank the Lord Jesus for dying for you, and open your heart and take Him in as your Saviour. My name is Rowland, and I have a class of children like you and Robin every Sunday afternoon. Would you like to come?"

"Oh we should, ever so much, but — if Aunt will let us."

"I will ask her now, at once, and I don't think she will refuse me, so prepare and come with Susan next Sunday — she goes into my sister's class. Come along, and we will ask your aunt about it." And taking little May's hand, he led them in.

Mrs. Clark was quite "put about" at seeing Mr. Rowland bringing in the children at the garden gate. She knew he held queer notions, but she also knew that he lived in a large house, and his father kept his carriage, and she hoped that some day they would buy their butter and eggs, etc. from her, therefore she felt rather gratified, and not a little agitated, to see him enter her gate.

Mr. Rowland soon explained his errand, and begged permission for the children to attend his class.

Mrs. Clark objected a little at first. She told him he would find Robin a great trouble, and she needed Rose to attend to May. He said, however, that he wished all three to come, for May would soon learn to be quiet, and she was just about to consent when her husband stepped in and quickly finished the matter.

"Yes, certainly, and thank you, too. Poor little orphans, it isn't for us to stand in their way. I think it is very kind of you, Mr. Rowland, and so would their mother. It was her last wish that they should be brought up in these ways, and though I don't know much about it myself, I'm not one who is set against religion."

"Thank you, Mr. Clark, you will not regret it. I endeavor to put the Lord Jesus Christ before these little ones as their Saviour and their Friend, without whom they cannot be saved, and this applies to us as well as to them. It is a mercy not to be set against Christ, but it will be a much greater blessing to yourself and to others, when you stand out boldly for His name. He was not ashamed to die for us, sinners. What an honor we should consider it to be allowed to speak for Him!"

"I know I'm not what I ought to be," replied the farmer," but I hope all will be right in the end."

"All will be right, if you accept God's unspeakable gift. And I shall expect to see these dear children on Sunday."

"Yes, they'll come with Susan," replied their uncle, lifting May to his shoulder, "and thank you, again, Sir, for your kindness," he added, grasping the outstretched hand of Mr. Rowland.

Chapter 11: The Country Sunday School

The next Sunday dawned clear and bright, and the children, delighted at the prospect before them, started with Susan for the schoolhouse. It was a pretty sight to see them so full of eagerness as they trotted along with May in the middle. The two elder ones were bending down and instructing her how she was to behave, and she was nodding her head and laughing, but not understanding in the least. At last they reached the schoolhouse. It stood about twenty yards from the roadside, in a knot of trees, where the birds whistled and warbled, and pretty flowers grew.

Susan led them to the door, and Mr. Rowland was waiting to receive them. He took them in and seated them on a bench near to him, and after saying a few kind words he started the lessons. There were about forty children present. There were little boys, with hair plastered down on their forehead or brushed up on end, with thick corduroy trousers and heavy boots, little girls in neat clothes, and a few with bright ribbons in their hats. Most of the children were clad in strong, clean garments, with strong bodies and rosy cheeks. On the front seat, next to Rose, Robin and May sat two children unlike the rest.

The elder was a little girl about nine years old, with a thin, pale face. She had a quiet, sad look, and was dressed in very worn, thin garments. The other was a boy, very much like his sister. They both listened attentively to their teacher, and took very little interest in looking about them. Their names were Lucy and Tommy Price, and their mother was a widow, and lived in half of the little cottage which Jenny's grandmother owned.

Sunday school began, and first of all Mr. Rowland prayed for the children. It was a short, simple prayer, and such as all could understand. He thanked the Lord for bringing them together, for preserving them through the week, and asked for a blessing on the afternoon's teaching. He prayed that some of the little ones might see beauty in Jesus, and desire Him, and that they might learn their need of Him, and accept His great salvation.

Then they sang that well-know hymn -

"Around the throne of God, in heaven,
Will many children sing."

After this was finished, he said,

"I'm going to tell you a true story, so listen, children. Many years ago in a country far away, lived a young man. He was handsome and had rosy cheeks like some of you, and he used to take care of his father's sheep. He sat in the field and played sweet music on his harp, while the sheep ate the grass and the little lambs skipped about. One day a little lamb strayed too far from its mother and the shepherd, and a lion, which was crouching near, sprang upon it, seized it in his mouth and began to make off with the little thing. But the kind shepherd was watching, and he heard the cry of the frightened lamb. In an instant he went after the cruel lion, caught him by his hair, struck him (very likely with a thick, heavy stick), and killed him, and took the poor, trembling little lamb from the fierce creature's mouth. What do you think of that?'

"Oh!" said some of the children, with a sigh of relief. "I'm real glad that old lion was killed," cried Robin.

"And I'm glad the lamb was saved," said Rose.

"Well now, children, tell me if you think that shepherd was brave?"

"Yes," they all shouted.

"And what do you think that little lamb would do afterwards?"

"Be fond of the shepherd," said one. "Keep close against him." cried another.

"What if I were to tell you that there is one like a lion who goes about trying to devour you? Don't be frightened, and I will explain to you what I mean. There is one who, like that lion, is watching you, little children, and hoping he may have the opportunity to get you for himself, and this one is Satan. He does not love you, and he does not want you to be happy. He hopes to tempt you further and further away from the good Shepherd, the Lord Jesus Christ, and so keep you forever in misery. But Jesus is stronger and if you look to Him — cry to Him — He will deliver you from Satan's grasp, and comfort you, and give you peace and rest. Now the little lamb could not deliver itself. Neither can you, for Satan is stronger than you are, but the Lord is stronger than all, and He has a right to you, for His blood was shed to purchase you. If you will put your trust in Him, and look to Jesus to save you from this cruel enemy, He will do it. Now, how many of you wish Jesus would save you?

Nearly all the hands went up.

"Ah, you all say so, but with some of you it is like children saying, 'We would like a nice bunch of wild flowers,' while many are blooming around. Some set about gathering them at once. Others say, 'Tomorrow we will make a bouquet,' and others think it too much trouble to get them at all. The ones who gather at once are the safe ones. Those who put off till tomorrow may not want to get them then, or a storm may come and wither them by that time, and those who put off altogether will never get them.

`How many children say,
I'd like to go to heaven,
But never think that they
Must have their sins forgiven,
Before they can in glory be,
Or Jesus Christ in glory see.'

Any of you who are not safe in the Shepherd's care are in danger of the lion, but a trustful look to Jesus will bring Him to your side, and you to His arms. Our good Shepherd gave up His life for the sheep."

After a little more talking to, the children left very pleased, each taking home a little verse card. The verse on Rose's was,

"They that are whole have no need of the physician, but they that are sick: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. Mark 2:17."

The verse on Robin's was,

"The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which was lost." Luke 19:10.

And little May's,

"He shall gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom." Isaiah 40;11.

Of course the cards were instantly shown to their aunt and uncle. The uncle read them over, and then sat turning the cards in his hands till the children took them away.

"Well, what did the gentleman tell you?"

"All about a shepherd who took care of sheep and lambs and one day —"

"A great old lion came and seized a lamb," broke in Robin, "and ran away with it, like Satan does to people."

"But the shepherd killed it, and took the little lamb in his arms quite safe," added Rose.

"And what more?"

"The gentleman said Jesus was like the shepherd, and He will take us from Satan if we look to Him."

"Satan is like that lion" cried Robin. "I'm glad he won't get me."

"How do you know?" asked his uncle.

"Because I trust Jesus, and love Him. Don't I, Susan?" he asked, as she came into the room.

"I hope you do, Robin."

"I really do, Susan," and he ran happily away.

Chapter 12: The Battle of Two Natures

One or two days later, Susan was talking to Rose at bedtime. She had been praying with her, for Rose had been unhappy about her sins. The little girl got up from her knees with a bright face, and Susan asked,

"Are you happy, Rose?" "Yes, quite happy now." "How is that?"

"Jesus is my Saviour, Susan."

"And how about your sins?"

"I believe He bore my punishment, and has washed away my sins. I am quite happy now."

"Can you trust Him entirely, dear?"

"Yes, I can; I'm so glad!" And she went to her little bed full of joy.

When Susan came to her, three hours after, Rose wakened, and said,

"Susan, I am so happy; I had such a nice prayer to the Lord Jesus." And then she fell asleep again.

Next morning it was the same. She had, little child as she was, trusted in the Saviour's love, taken Him at His word, and found peace and rest and a joy that passeth understanding.

Now a new battle began.

One battle was over. Eighteen hundred years ago Jesus fought the fight for us, and rescued those who believe from Satan's power forever. But when we believe, and God's Spirit comes to dwell in us, a new fight begins. This new nature we get as believers in Jesus cannot delight in the things our old nature — the one we were born with, and which will never leave us till we are with the Lord —delights in, and so there is a conflict. God tells us to keep the old nature under, and not to do the things it loves. It is selfish, angry, untruthful, and spiteful. But we are to let the new nature and the Holy Spirit work, and these will bring forth love, gentleness, peace, joy, and loving-kindness.

Satan knows he cannot get those who belong to Jesus to be his slaves in misery forever, and so he tries to tempt them away from the presence of the Lord, and get them to stray for a time from the fold, and grieve the loving heart of the good Shepherd. His thoughts are evil, and he delights in getting the Lord's children into trouble, but he never helps them out. Jesus says none can pluck them out from His hand. Satan may worry the sheep, if they forget to keep close to the good Shepherd, but he cannot destroy them.

Now, little Rose had her faults as other children do, and as soon as the Holy Spirit dwelt within her, the began to learn that, if she wanted to please the Lord who died for her, she must try to keep naughtiness down, and let the fruit of the Spirit be seen. And Satan always tries to discourage those who begin to do right. He would like them to say, when they do wrong, "It is no use for me to try and do right. I'll give it up. I am afraid I don't belong to Jesus." Now those are the very sins for which Christ died, and though we should be very sorry to grieve Him who loves us so, we should confess them and remember He put them away on the cross, and ask His help humbly for the future.

Rose was very happy after this. She kept close to Susan, as if those two understood one another. But where she grew impatient was in being under her aunt's control or much in her company.

Chapter 13: A Disappointment

"This afternoon, Rose, when I have finished my work, I'll ask your aunt to let me take you and Robin up the hill to my cousin's garden, and we'll see the little kittens and get some plums off the trees," said Susan a few days after.

Rose clapped her hands with delight.

"So we will. It will be nice. And we shall see you cousin's little baby, and perhaps she'll let me carry it."

And Rose ran away to tell Robin. He came back with her as delighted as possible, jumping about, and turning somersaults.

"I'm not sure yet," said Susan, "but I think mistress will let me go, as I have not been away for two weeks."

Everything seemed certain to the children, and they began making their preparations. Robin got a stick to fight imaginary bullocks on the way, and Rose busied herself in providing a basket for the plums.

Robin, in the midst of his excitement, rushed against his aunt with the stick, and knocked her ankle. She called out sharply, and pulled it from his hand.

"What's that in the house for?" she asked.

"I'm going to take it up to Susan's cousin's garden, to fight bullocks if they touch her, and knock down plums and Rose is going, and Susan too, and perhaps we'll get tea there."

"Hush, Robin," cried Rose in a fright. "You were not to tell."

These unfortunate speeches had their effect. If she had been asked by Susan as a favor, possibly their aunt would have granted the request, though she might have raised objections at first, but being told suddenly they were going, and then that it was a secret, was more than she could bear.

"You think you can make your plans without me, do you? I suppose Susan will soon be mistress in this house altogether. I tell you, no. I shall not allow it. To think of you all racing up to Susan's cousin's house, most certainly not. If she wants to go, she can go by herself another time. I am going out this afternoon, and the house cannot be left, so you get to your sewing, Rose, and, Robin, go outside and play, and just ask me another time before you make your plans."

Of course an unhappy scene followed, and Mrs. Clark was not at all comfortable in her own mind. She knew she had made the children miserable, and though she had the satisfaction of showing her power, as soon as she decided against the little excursion she felt uneasy, though she would by no means change her mind. Therefore it was necessary to give vent to her irritation in a different way.

Rose flung down her basket, and turned away, and, with her temper and impatience rising, cast an angry look at Robin.

"It's just like you," she cried. "You have spoiled it all. I think you might hold your tongue. You might have guessed Aunt would just stop our going, on purpose to — tease us." she was just going to add, but checked herself when she caught sight of her aunt's angry face.

"So you are impertinent, are you?" exclaimed her aunt, and slapping Rose's shoulders, she put them both out of the kitchen.

The child burst into tears, and leaned against the wall in the passage, and Robin, who had been crying bitterly all the while, joined her.

"I am always in trouble," cried Robin, "and I am not happy a bit. I did want to go and fight these bullocks if they touched Susan, and eat plums."

"Hush, Robin, you've done it all," said Rose between her sobs, holding her shoulders. "If you had only been quiet! You make me feel so angry."

"And now you are not friends with me. All the people in this world don't love me," exclaimed Robin, "only Mother. I daresay, Rose, you would like me to die."

Rose drew nearer. Her mother's words sounded in her ears, "Be kind to Robin. Remember he is troublesome, but not a bad boy. Keep him from getting into trouble if you can." So she dropped her angry tone, and said in a little milder voice,

"I'm sure I love you, Robbie, and Susan, too. I only wish you had been quiet."

"So do I now," said the little boy. "Perhaps she'll let us go."

"No, she won't; she just loves to stop us doing things, and she — she — slapped me, Robbie," sobbed his sister.

"Where?" he asked.

"On my shoulder. Do you see a mark?" "I think I see some red. Does it hurt?"

"Not much, but it makes me feel so angry, only I know I ought not to feel that. I tell you, Robbie, I felt as if I could run away from her."

"Oh!" cried Robin, "you'd just starve, Rose. You'd better not."

Susan, who was in the dairy, heard their aunt's angry words. She had seen the children put out of the room, and was coming forward to speak to them when they began their conversation.

"What's the trouble?" she asked now.

In a few minutes the whole story was poured into her ears.

"Well, we cannot go today," she answered. "I am sorry, but Robin knew no better. Another time I must wait till I have permission, and Robin must learn to be quiet. But what was Rose so angry for?"

Rose hung her head.

"Have you asked the Lord to help you to keep your temper, dear?"

"I just thought of it a minute ago, but when Aunt slapped me, it made me so angry."

"Remember One who when He was reviled, reviled not again. Jesus was spit upon, scourged, mocked, and crucified, yet He prayed for the people who were cruel to Him. Now you spoke naughtily when your aunt said you were not to go, didn't you, Rose?"

"I know I did Susan. I wish I hadn't. I wish I could try over again," she said, her eyes filling with tears.

"Be more watchful another time, dear. Ask the Lord Jesus to help you, and if you have done wrong, confess it to Him. You trust Him, don't you, and believe His precious blood cleanses from all sin?"

"Yes, I know it does, now," she answered, with tears in her eyes. "I do love Him, and want to please Him."

"Well, go and tell Him about it, Rose."

The little girl went quietly to her own room, and knelt down, and unburdened her heart to One whose ear is always open to the cry of His little lambs, whose heart always loves them, and whose arm is strong to help. With a light heart she came back, and found Robin hugging Susan, and saying,

"You are my own dear friend, Susan."

"I thought you were the boy whom no one in the world loved."

"I was just in fun, or else cross," said Robin.

They talked about their disappointment now, while Susan was at her work, and decided to be quite quiet and not say a word about it to their aunt, but to try and be good, and go on as usual, but if she spoke to Rose about her "impertinence" that Rose was to tell her she was sorry for being naughty.

They were disappointed, and stifled many a sigh before they could feel reconciled to remaining at home, but Susan said she was sure in a little while they would be allowed to go, if they were good.

Presently Mrs. Clark told Susan, in a short and decided tone, that she was going out, and might not be home to tea, but the house was not to be left, and perhaps another day, when she wanted to go out, she would come and ask her about it herself.

Susan said she was very sorry for what had happened, that she had told the children she was going to ask permission, and that Robin, like a child, had mistaken and taken it for granted.

Her mistresses was a little mollified, and said,

"Well tomorrow, if it is a suitable day you may go then."

"May I take the children?" she asked.

"I can't see what pleasure you can find having them hanging about, but I'll think it over, and see how they behave till then."

Chapter 14: A Visit to Sick Tommy

There was a happy little tea party that evening. Susan made tea, and the children sat round the table. May, with a smiling face, perched in her high chair. She was beginning to talk quite a lot now, and many a laugh they had over her funny speeches to "Soo" as she called Susan. Jenny also had an easy time of it, and listened from her side table to all that went on.

"I wonder whether Jenny loves Jesus," asked Robin. "She did not thank Jesus for her food. I wish everybody in the world loved Him. I know, when I am a man, I'll go and preach in all the oldest, dirtiest places I can find, till all the people know about Him."

"Why will you go to old, dirty places?" asked Rose.

"Just because people who live there don't hear so much, and perhaps they never hear at all."

"You need not wait till you are grown up to speak of Jesus, Robin. If you love and trust Him, you may very gently speak to other little children of Him, of His death, and rising again."

"Oh, I will," answered Robin, "I'll tell them of Jesus."

"Only remember you must be careful first to let others see you love Him, by being gentle, obedient, and kind."

"I do try, try, try," cried the little fellow, "but you don't expect me always to be quite good, do you, Susan?"

"I expect you to try to be."

Just as they were finishing tea, in walked their uncle.

"Ah, your aunt has gone to take tea with Mrs. Parker, so you little mice are at play when the cats are away," and he ran to catch hold of them.

In a few minutes it ended in a hearty game of play, May running away boldly with the rest. At last the farmer, out of breath, sank down on the floor, pretending to be exhausted, and the children were soon on top of him, one on his shoulders, another astride, and May on his feet. Such shoutings and merry cries were seldom heard in the kitchen, while even Jack laughed at the children's antics. Jack was at school, or on the farm all day, and his father took care that he did not interfere much with the children. Only occasionally an attack or quarrel on his part took place as they were not much thrown together.

"I want you, Susan, to go up to Mrs. Price, on the hill — Widow Price I mean, and take her a bit of beef and some eggs. Her child is ill, and I hear she is in great need. I met Jenny's grannie, and she was telling me, so go at once. I'll settle with your mistress. Her husband was a good laborer of mine, and it wouldn't do for her child to die of hunger."

"Yes, Sir, I will. Come along, children, we'll go at once. Jenny, you keep house till we get back," said Susan willingly.

"No fear about the house. I'm going to get a rest. Take your time; May will keep me company."

Up the hill they went, and reached a little thatched cottage at the top, on the right hand side. They crossed a little rickety bridge, and tapped at the low wooden door.

"Come in," cried someone from inside, and the three stepped over the little wooden doorstep, which was worm-eaten and uneven. Then came the brick floor, with one or two holes here and there. The furniture was bare enough. In one corner stood the wooden bedstead, with a patchwork quilt, then a wooden box, and two or three wooden chairs, an old bureau, also worm-eaten, a small table, a clock, a cupboard, and that was all. On the mantelshelf was a collection of miscellaneous articles — two shepherdesses, in white crockery, leaning on their crooks, and a very ugly figure of a fat man, with bright waistcoat and trousers, made to hold a little box. Then there were one or two portraits in little frames, a gaudy vase, a dusty shell box, and one or two colored motto cards pinned against the wall.

A careworn woman rose as they entered, and Lucy slid down from the bed, where she had been sitting.

On the bed, pale and thin, lay Tommy Price, his hair brushed from his forehead, and his little arm flung outside the bed. He looked as if a puff of wind would blow him away, as he lay asleep with his eyes closed.

"Good evening, Mrs. Price," said Susan kindly, as she entered, holding Robin by the hand. "Master was telling us that your Tommy was ill, and sent us to ask about him."

"He does seem very strange these three days," she answered. "He took to his bed yesterday, and doesn't seem to care to get about."

"What's wrong with him, Mrs. Price?"

"I can't exactly say. It seems to me he's taken his father's illness, tuberculosis. One thing is, he needs better food than I can give him. Lucy isn't strong either. I don't think I can bring her up she looks kind of sickly. The trouble down here is enough to break one's heart."

"Come, cheer up, Mrs. Price, Master has sent you a good nourishing bit of fresh beef and some new-laid eggs, and if you send Lucy with a can in the morning, she'll bring back some new milk for your boy, and he'll soon pick up again, let's hope."

"Well now, Susan, that is a kindness," said the poor woman, the tears running down her cheeks. "And it is the Lord who sent you. He is a present help in trouble. I have been praying to Him, for I haven't got a bite fit for Tommy in the house. I was boiling a few tea leaves over for Lucy and me to soak some bread in, and beside a bit of flour for a dumpling, the cupboard is bare. I hope to earn a bit tomorrow, and a comfort is, I paid my rent up with harvest money, so I don't owe anything, but I hardly like to leave Tommy alone unless he is better."

"You have learned to look to the Lord for salvation, have you not, Mrs. Price? Since you belong to Him, He will be your support and comfort. All power is with Him. Don't you remember, Miss Rowland was telling us to have more faith in God. It is honoring to Him to trust Him in trouble."

"Ay, I do, and I know the Lord will provide."

"Yes, He who gave His Son, loves us perfectly. See, Robin, poor little Tommy is waking up. Are you not sorry for him?"

"Robin is a fine boy. I would like to see my poor little lad with such a healthy face. But Tommy loves his class, and he likes to hear about the Saviour. He tells me what Mr. Rowland talks about on Sundays, and he said the other day, `Mother, suppose some day I should go to sleep at night, and you should speak to me in the morning, and I do not answer, and you find I had gone to 'sleep in Jesus!' He heard Mr. Rowland telling about it one afternoon. I asked, 'Well, Tommy, what then?' And he said, 'I would be with Jesus.' But how do you know, Tommy?' `Because He died for me, to take me to heaven,' he answered. I'm sure if Mr. Rowland knew he were ill he would come to see him."

Chapter 15: Tommy Finds Kind Friends

After her visitors were gone, Mrs. Price cut the beef into three pieces, to make Tommy some broth, and she planned to make it last three or four days by keeping it in a cool place. She kindled a little fire, and chopped the meat very fine to make it quickly. After twenty minutes had passed, during which Lucy had watched the pot boil, her mother reached from the shelf a little yellow basin, and poured in the broth. Then she soaked some bread in it, and drew near to Tommy's bed.

"What is it, Mother?"

"Taste and try, Tommy. It seems good, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it doesn't seem like our kind of broth," and the little fellow smacked his lips.

He finished about a teacupful, and then said, "No more now; it's your turn and Lucy's"

"This was sent to you, Tommy, by kind Farmer Clark, and we don't want it."

"Your cheeks look pale too. Do have some, Mother." And so, to please him, she and Lucy took a few spoonfuls.

"It was God who put it in Mr. Clark's heart, Tommy."

"Ah, you see He remembers, Mother — Jesus and Him," said Tommy, sleepily.

Before she went to bed she beat up an egg for the little fellow, and he drank it off with relish, and by morning seemed a little revived, so that his mother left him in Lucy's care.

"I wish you'd go to the pasture field and get me some flowers, Lucy, and bring leaves too, will you?" asked her brother.

"Yes, I'll run after I've cut myself a slice of bread and given you a boiled egg, Tommy," and before half an hour had passed, she had started for the flowers.

By the side of the road was the stile leading to the pasture field, and the fresh morning air made Lucy so brisk that she sprang over it in quite a lively manner. She knew where all the pretty flowers grew, the "Ragged Robins," and wild geraniums, and pretty tall white and yellow ones, and in her eagerness to get the finest, she plunged her hand into a thicket, and scratched it badly. But she did not care much, though it smarted somewhat, for she had gathered a lovely bunch for Tommy. After stopping a moment to get a drink at the stream, she spoke to three merry children, who were dabbling their chubby hands in the water, and laughing loudly in their fun. Then she turned towards home, and met the Squire's children on their way to school, with their nurse.

They were prettily clad in light dresses and summer hats, while they chatted eagerly, as they walked along carrying their school books. Lucy sighed. They seemed far removed from her, with their pretty faces, good dresses, and lively talk. She did not go so far as to wish she were one of them — it hardly occurred to her — but she thought of the good things that she had once seen on the kitchen table, ready to go in for dinner, and she thought, "If our Tommy could always get plenty, he wouldn't be ill. If those people only knew!"

But a surprise awaited Lucy when she reached the cottage, and bursting in with the flowers, cried, "See, Tommy!"

She found Miss Rowland sitting there, and Mr. Rowland talking to his little scholar.

"Lucy, you'll get some too," said Tommy gently. "See the good things! Oh! what pretty flowers! And Mr. Rowland's been telling me a story."

There on the table was a nice baked milk pudding in a dish, and some ripe plums, a chicken, and a plate of thin cut meat.

Food was what Tommy needed, good food that he could eat, poor little fellow, and here it was.

Lucy's eyes sparkled as she saw the good things, and when Mr. Rowland put some money into her hand for Mother, she blushed, and dropped her lowest curtsy, while she gasped,

"Oh! thank you, Sir, Mother will be glad."

"If you are glad, Lucy, thank the Lord. He sent it," said the gentleman, kindly. "He is the good Shepherd, who watches over the little ones who put their trust in Him. I want you to trust Him. He loved you enough to leave His bright home and His Father, and come down to be born and to die for us. Jesus was often hungry, tired, and suffering, that He might pass through all that His people will pass through. And if we love and trust Him, we shall feel it a great comfort that Jesus knows all about our little trials, for He has felt the same."

On getting home, the poor mother was delighted to see the good things, which soon revived little Tommy. As he was well taken care of for some days, he recovered his former strength, which was not very great, but it enabled him to walk about in the meadows again, and pick the flowers of which he was so fond.

As little Rose Rivers walked away from Mrs. Price's cottage with Susan and Robin, she said, with rather an effort,

"Susan, there's one thing I do want." "What is it, Rose?"

"Well, I have been wishing I could, or you could, tell some of those lazy people in the village about Jesus. There are so many boys standing about doing nothing. They seem as if they didn't care a bit, or know where they are going. If I only had a little Testament to give some of them!"

"Well, Rose, you can ask the Lord about it. If He has given you a desire to speak to someone about Him, He will show you the way.

"Or some old women," said Rose. "If you would let me go with you, Susan, I could take them something. I have my money quite safe which Miss Marian gave me. If we were to go and give them something first, perhaps afterwards they would listen if we told them about the Lord Jesus and the way to heaven. At least, Susan, if you would speak, I would give a little book," she added, coaxingly.

Susan smiled. "I know an old woman I want to go and see some day when I get time."

"Who?"

"Jenny's old grandmother. She is getting rather shaky, and I am not sure that she is happy; I think she is one of those who try to do the best they can to save themselves, and look to God to do the rest. Those people are never happy, because they are leaning partly on themselves. As Miss Rowland says, it is a sandy foundation, which will fall away."

"Well, let us go to see her, Susan dear, please," said Rose, skipping along.

"And are you so at rest about yourself as to be able to speak to others, Rosie?"

Rose looked a little puzzled, but answered slowly,

"I'm not good, I know I am often naughty, but— “

"Well, tell me, dear."

"But I know that Jesus is my Saviour, and He has forgiven me, because He died, and put away my sin. You know, Susan, I trust Him, and I want to please Him now."

"I believe you do. But remember, Rosie, that it is by keeping in His presence that we grow like Him, by speaking to Him, and praying to Him, and reading of Him daily in His precious Word."

Chapter 16: Miss Marian's Visit

A surprise now awaited the children, for Marian Brookland paid a visit to Upland Farm.

The next morning Rose was standing in the yard, holding up little May's apron, which was full of corn, while the little girl was scattering food to numerous hens, chickens, and pigeons, and Robin was sitting astride on the gate — an imaginary horse — when Marian Brookland walked down the garden path. Her father was calling at some house half a mile away, and she had walked on to see the children.

The moment she caught sight of her friend, Rose took May's hand and pulled her forward, and Robin clambered from the gate. Then they were seized with a little shyness, and stood silent and rosy.

Marian greeted the children warmly, and they soon were chatting away merrily, showing her this, that and the other thing.

"Well, you seem very happy," exclaimed Marian, seating herself on a wooden bench, with May on her knee, and the others squeezing closely to her.

"So we are, sometimes," said Robin, "when we are with Susan or Uncle. Oh! Susan's a dear. She is my friend, and I am her boy, and Rose is her girl, and she tells us pretty stories, about Jesus and Moses, out of the Bible. It is only Aunt who is cross."

"Hush, Robin, you shouldn't tell; she is not always."

"No, no, not always; only when I provoke her, like getting in her way, or won't tail `goosegogs.' "

"Well, Robin, you must try and be good, and gentle, and obedient. You know it is very kind of your uncle and aunt to take you to live with them. Try and be a help."

"Oh, I am a very great help to Susan, and I try, try, try to do things for her, because she is so kind to me."

Miss Brookland was soon invited inside the house by their aunt, who caught sight of them in the garden, and she remained some little while talking to Mrs. Clark. She spoke of their mother's love for them, and how great a kindness it was to provide them a comfortable home. Altogether, Mrs. Clark rather liked Miss Brookland, and was especially pleased when the carriage drove up, and a large parcel was opened, containing a pretty set of collar and cuffs for herself, as a little remembrance, and new dresses for Rose and May, and a coat for Robin.

As the children accompanied her to the garden gate, Marian gave them each a bit more money.

"Oh! it is wonderful! Miss Marian," cried Rose with delight. "I am glad! Thank you ever so much."

"What will you do with it, Rose?"

"Why, Miss Marian, we know an old woman at least Susan does — who is poor, and I am going with her to take this poor woman some good things. I wanted so much to help several people. There is a poor, sick boy who needs good meat, and I want so much to tell them about Jesus, now that I know about Him and love Him. Isn't it a dreadful pity for them never to go to heaven?"

Marian was silent for a moment, then she said, "Yes, it is, but who teaches you these things?"

"Susan and Mr. Rowland. I go to his class on Sundays, and he tells us such nice things."

"And who is Susan?"

"Why, she is just Susan, that washes dishes, and cleans pots and pans," answered Robin. "Only she is never cross. And there she is," he cried, running to meet her.

Of course she was introduced quickly, and without ceremony, to Miss Brookland, and received her hearty thanks for the kindness she showed the children.

When Marian Brookland said goodbye, an old homesick feeling brought tears from Rose, as she thought of her mother.

"Can't we go with you, Miss Marian, and see our little cottage?" she asked shyly.

"Yes, take us back, Miss Marian," cried Robin, seeing the horse and carriage, and remembering the old times.

"You would not care to go, dears. Someone else lives in Cherry Cottage now, and you don't want to leave Susan, do you?"

This turned the tide of feeling, and getting close to Susan, they waved a hearty "goodbye," as the carriage drove off to pick up the doctor.

Chapter 17: Gathering Blackberries

Miss Brookland's visit had made Mrs. Clark feel very generous, and the pretty set of collar and cuffs pleased her so much that she was unusually kind to the children. As the afternoon came on, she gave permission for Susan to take them to her cousin's, so, by four o'clock the little group set out in high spirits for Sunny Cottage, and they found Mrs. Field and her baby at home. She was sitting on a chair outside the cottage door, with little Willie asleep on her knee, and at the sight of Susan she rose up and gave her a hearty welcome.

"Mary, we have come to take our tea with you. You promised to receive us any day this week, and today is the first I could get away. The weather being so fine, I thought we'd come. Rose and Robin were eager to see you and baby."

"I'm glad you have come. I'm not busy today, so we'll have tea out on the grass, at the back. William will be home by five. If the children will go down the garden with you, and get some plums and apples while I set out the things, we'll go into the wood after tea and get some blackberries."

"Hurray!" cried Robin, "that will be nice," and in a few minutes the garden resounded with cries of delight, as they shook down apples and yellow plums, and gathered them into a basket.

"Susan, may I eat one?'

"Not unless you ask Mrs. Field. I have no doubt she will let you."

"I'll go then by myself," and up the garden path he started.

"Please, Mrs. Field, may I have one of your little plums?"

Mrs. Field was putting a little low table on the grass, and spreading a clean white cloth on it, for the weather was not quite hot enough now for it to be safe to sit on the grass, although it was warm and pleasant. She looked up, and answered,

"Yes, indeed, you may eat as many as Susan thinks good for you."

"Thank you," said Robin. "We won't eat them all," and he started off again.

"You could help me, by getting out a couple of little stools for yourself and Rose," she cried.

Robin just waited to snap up two or three plums, and returned, saying,

"I would like to help you. I'm Susan's 'helping boy;' I can be yours too," and he trotted in and out with one thing after another.

"You are a capital little waiter," said Mrs. Field.

"Do you love me?" asked Robin, raising his eyebrows, and putting his head on one side.

"Yes; I think you are a good little boy."

"Not always, you know. I try, but I'm often getting into trouble, and I have a naughty heart."

"What trouble do you get into, Robin?" she asked, amused at his confidence.

"Don't tell Aunt, then, if I tell you." "Oh, no, I'll not tell."

"I turned on a tap in the scull'ry, and couldn't screw it back again, so the water poured and poured all on the ground, and there was a `shocking state of things' Susan said, and I had to sit on a chair all the while she cleaned it up. That was one thing. And the other day I tried to be too helpful, and so I tried to wash up some dishes and one broke, so I had to give some pennies Miss Marian gave me to buy another. I only tried to put them on a high shelf, and one dish slipped off. But I won't do anything to yours, really. Susan says I'm learning better ways now. See, Mrs. Field, here they come with the fruit!"

The two little baskets were filled with the plums and rosy-cheeked apples and pears, and Mrs. Field placed them on the table. Baby Willie soon woke up, and Rose took him from his cradle, and was delighted to hold him on her lap. He was a fine little fellow, with blue eyes, plump cheeks, and curly hair, just nine months old. His mother had put on him a little clean print suit with blue ribbons, and Rose was completely charmed.

When William Field came in for his tea, he was greatly surprised and pleased at seeing the visitors, and had a good time of playing with Robin round the garden, while he carried his baby boy on his shoulder.

Altogether it was a happy time, and tea went off merrily. The children made themselves useful, running in and out of the cottage, and greatly enjoyed the fun when William Field's chair rolled over just as he was going to sit down, and, of course, he rolled over too. After their early tea, he got permission for the little party to go through a small private wood close by, where, in the spring time, violets and primroses grew, and in the autumn, blackberries and nuts. This was just blackberry time, so they all started out with little baskets, and a long stick with a round handle to bring down any branches out of reach. On the outside of the wood, or where few shady trees grew, the blackberries were large and juicy, and before long the hands and mouths of the party were stained with the rich juice.

"Susan," said Rose, "don't you think Aunt would like a few blackberries?"

"Very much, dear, but why?"

"Just because I should like to take her something; she was very kind this afternoon, and I was wishing the other day I could show her that I want to —be — you know!"

"That you want to be loving and gentle, as the Lord Jesus would have you to be."

"Yes, that's it," said Rose, satisfied that Susan understood her.

"Well, do dear, and if you can get Robin to help you, so much the better."

Robin was busy disentangling himself from a bramble bush which had caught his coat, socks, and pants. Rose ran to ask his help to gather the berries.

"For Aunt! No, no. For Susan or Mrs. Field, but not for her that's often cross, and shakes me by my collar."

"But, Robin, I want to please her. You know we must try — try to be kind and loving, like Jesus we sing about."

"But she doesn't love Him," added Robin in a doubtful voice.

"Ah, but we do, and Susan says the Bible says we are to be gentle and loving to people who are unkind to us, and Aunt was kind today, and Jesus wants us to be. Will you, Robin?"

"Yes I will. I'll get my basket full, if the Bible says so," and after eating a few more blackberries, he began to fill it.

Robin very often popped an extra fine blackberry into his own mouth, but steadily he filled his little basket, and giving it over to Susan's charge, proceeded to satisfy himself.

It so happened that after a little while Rose had possession of the long stick, and getting sight of a fine branch laden with blackberries, she eagerly reached after it. She stood on the top of a little bank, at the bottom of which was a dry ditch full of sticks and brambles, and in leaning forward the poor little girl overbalanced herself, and fell heavily to the ground. She gave a cry of fright as she fell, which quickly brought Susan to the spot. For a moment, however, she was unable to see the child, for she had fallen into a number of bramble bushes, and when she was pulled out, her face and hands were covered with scratches. She cried for a little while, but being rather brave, she made the best of it, and Robin brought her the very largest blackberries by way of consolation.

Before they went back to their aunt's, they returned to the cottage to wash their hands and faces, and Mrs. Field asked them to sing a hymn they had learned at Mr. Rowland's class. So the little ones sang,

"There is a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,
Where the dear Lord was crucified,
Who died to save us all.

"We may not know, we cannot tell,
What pains He had to bear,
But we believe it was for us
He hung and suffered there.

"He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good,
That we might go at last to heaven,
Saved by His precious blood.

"Oh! dearly, dearly has He loved,
And we must love Him too,
And trust in His redeeming blood,
And seek His will to do."

When the blackberries were brought timidly forward by Rose to her aunt on their return, she asked,

"What are these for?" It never occurred to her that the children of their own accord would seek to please her.

"They are for you, if you like blackberries." "So I do. But did Mrs. Field send them?"

"No, but I thought when I saw all the fine ones in the wood, that you would like to taste them, so Robin and I gathered you some to eat now."

"Thank you, child," said her aunt, eyeing the fruit a little suspiciously, and feeling at the same time rather uncomfortable.

"We want to be loving," added Robin, "just like the Bi — ." Here he was interrupted by his sister, or possibly he might in his outspoken straightforwardness have offended his aunt.

However, next morning Rose had a double portion of something extra good on her plate. From that day she began to show her aunt little attentions. Mrs. Clark took more notice of Rose, and Rose received fewer scoldings.

Chapter 18: A Refuge From the Storm

In November little May of whom Mrs. Clark had grown very fond, caught a severe, feverish cold, and became seriously ill. The little girl, with her engaging ways, had helped to soften her aunt's heart, and as she "belonged to Rose," and was sincerely loved by her, it was a bond between these two. Sometimes, when Mrs. Clark was angry and annoyed with Jenny or anyone else, May would put on a piteous face, and hold up her little hand to stroke the offender's cheek, saying "Poor dear," and then trot back to her aunt to pull her forward to do the same, and if the scolding did not cease, she would burst out crying. This generally either softened her aunt or made her feel foolish, and so quelled her excess of anger. Now when she was ill, Mrs. Clark remembered her pretty ways, and hung over her, thinking the worst, and saying repeatedly,

"She will die, like my own little Nelly died."

"No, no, Aunt," Rose would say, to try and comfort her, "I don't think so. May had a bad cold like this in the early spring, and her cheeks were red and hot like that, and she breathed heavily too."

"What did your mother do?"

"She put her into warm baths first, and then a plaster on her chest, and got some medicine for her at the doctor's shop, and May got well; only Mother kept her warm. Mother was so kind and fond of little May," said Rose, with tears in her eyes.

Mrs. Clark's heart softened.

"You are a good little girl to remember so nicely. I'll watch May while Jimmy drives you in the cart to the doctor's shop at Uphill Village. Wasn't that the place?"

"Yes, I know the place, and I'll go and ask him to give me the same medicine, and, Aunt, if May doesn't get better, Dr. Brookland would come."

"A good thought," said her aunt. "I don't care for the doctor here; he didn't cure our Nelly."

"Was your little Nelly like May, and was she ill with the same thing?" asked Rose, gently.

"She was wonderful like May, and so fond of me, but she died of scarlet fever."

"Poor little thing, I wish she hadn't died; I would have liked to play with her."

From that time a very good understanding was established between Rose and her aunt. Mrs. Clark's quick temper did not leave her suddenly, but she certainly was more at ease in her own mind, and found Rose a helpful little companion, and May such a gentle, loving little child, that she was ashamed, if nothing more, and showed less temper before them.

Rose found the "doctor's shop," and the young man gave her the same soothing medicine little May had had before, and these together with the good nursing, had the effect of subduing the cold. Before long she was noticing them again, sitting on her aunt's knee before the fire, well wrapped in a blue shawl, with 'Ose' close by.

The children regularly attended Mr. Rowland's class, and some of their happiest hours were spent listening to him, while he spoke of the Lord Jesus Christ, or those who loved His name. One talk they never forgot. It was on that little verse, "Thou hast been a . . . refuge from the storm, [and] a shadow from the heat." Isaiah 25:4.

He asked, "Little children, have you ever been out in a storm?"

Of course they answered "Yes."

"And when the lightning flashes, and the thunder roars, and the rain comes down, what do you try to do?"

"To get home!" "To find a shelter." "To hide away somewhere," they answered.

"Very well; now listen. Suppose you were playing with a friend in a large enclosure, the gates of which were regularly locked at ten o'clock every summer's night. Suppose you knew this, and were warned to get out in time.

You were very busy playing, and though great clouds were gathering overhead, you would pay no attention but continue to play on. Presently heavy drops of rain fell. You still thought it would pass off, but soon you heard thunder, and saw the lightning flash. Then you were frightened, and ran to the gate to find it LOCKED and bolted. You cried and knocked, but no one heard, and the storm raged around. What a sad place for a child to be in! Now God has told us in His Word that there is a great storm of judgment coming, that it will fall on all who are not safely hidden in a refuge He has provided. God warns you all to escape, as His judgment may fall at any time, and He also tells us that He will rise up some day and shut the door. Then no more may enter. Any are welcome now. It is not a question of whether you are good or not. If you are not safe in God's refuge before the storm comes, you will be swept away into everlasting destruction. The Door stands wide open now; will you enter in and be safe?"

"What door, please, Sir?" asked a little girl.

"Jesus Christ is the Door. In fact, He is the Refuge. Those who are hidden in Christ will be safe when the storm comes. He invites you today; tomorrow may be too late. You would not like to stand knocking after the door is shut, and hear those awful words, 'TOO LATE' "

"But what does it mean to flee to the refuge? Just this. We are sinners. You little ones are sinners, and all deserving of death. No one deserves heaven —to live with God, and share the glory of Christ! But God loved us even when we were sinners, and full of naughty ways. He sent His beloved Son to suffer in our stead, to bear our sin, and put it away, to shed His blood, which can cleanse from all sin. And Jesus came and did it all. He finished the work God gave Him to do. He put away sin, and God raised Him from the dead, and seated Him on His own right hand, where He is crowned with glory. It shows sin has been put away from God's sight, because Jesus, who took it on Himself, is in heaven, and sin cannot enter there. So now Jesus is a refuge, and if you believe in Him and the work He has done, you are safe. God will never punish you, or let the storm break over your head. The storm beat on the Lord Jesus, that those who believe in Him might go free. Is he not a Saviour to love and rejoice in?"

"I am so glad I am safe," whispered Rose, when she told Susan afterwards.

Little Robin never tired of hearing of the Lord Jesus, or lessons from the Bible. In his childish simplicity, and with childlike faith, he believed those things "because the Bible told him so," and he always said he "knew Jesus died for him, and he loved Him and trusted Him." Many a childish offence had to be laid to his charge, but he was always really sorry after. Though he got into trouble, he was not a "bad boy," for his offences were generally from thoughtlessness or carelessness, and not from actual naughtiness, and when Susan spoke to him of an act's being displeasing to God, he usually was sorry at once and said he'd "try again."

"Do forgive me this time, and be friends with me, Susan, and try and excuse me if you can," he would add.

Jack continued from time to time to annoy the children, but as they were pretty well protected by his father and Susan, he did not trouble them very much, and as Rose tried hard to return good for evil, and Robin became an amusing companion, he began to tolerate them.

When winter came, and the ponds were frozen over, he took Robin to slide, and one day the poor little boy returned to Susan with cut knees and a swollen face, from a heavy fall. Jack pushed him, because he wouldn't slide fast enough, but Robin bore no malice, and begged to go again next time.

Another day Jack took them for a walk in frosty weather, and went much too far for those little ones to venture, so that by the time they had reached the desired place — a large frozen pond — they were five miles from home, and quite unfit to return.

The walk back was a misery. Poor little Rose was very tired and footsore, and Robin cried very much. Rose tried to drag him along, and Jack helped part of the way. Then he grew angry, declared he would "never take such babies out again," and walked off. It grew late in the afternoon, and darkness came on. Rose rested whenever she had a chance, and by degrees got her little brother home, three hours later than they were expected! Cold, pale, worn out, and faint, they reached the farm, and found the family very anxious about them. Jack had not made his appearance, being afraid to do so without the children, and until they had eaten warm bread and milk, they could hardly give an account of themselves. Rose begged that Jack might not be scolded, and obtained the promise from her uncle, though he said, "Jack should hear why he escaped a flogging," and this thought on her part made both mother and son more kindly disposed to her.

For some days she could scarcely walk, and had to be nursed and cared for, but after a little, the bad effect of the long walk passed off.

Susan and Rose paid many a visit to Jenny's grannie, through that long winter, and the old woman soon welcomed the little girl gladly, as she was able to read the Word of God aloud to her. Jenny, too, became fond of her Sunday class, and used to bring the "good news" home to her grannie. She was fond of telling Rose what she could remember of "Bonnie Scotland," and the mountains and lochs there, and perhaps those two were drawn a little nearer together from the fact that each had lost her mother.

As springtime came on, "Miss Marian" used to drive over and see the children, and she was very glad to find that they were so happy and well cared for.

Mr. Rowland, too, took a great interest in them, and he rejoiced to find that the truth these little ones heard, and the seed that was sown, fell into good ground, and as far as those who loved them could judge, was springing up and bearing fruit. Many a hymn and verse of Scripture were now sung and repeated in the farmhouse, and their uncle encouraged them to repeat to him what they heard at the Sunday class, and seemed really to take an interest in hearing the Bible lessons that they learned.

Rose soon became a great help to her aunt in the house, and she found it unnecessary to keep Jenny, who remained at home to take care of her aged grandmother.

Mr. Clark often used to say that Robin was just the boy for the farm, and Robin was proud and delighted at the thought of being able some day to help his uncle.

Susan preserved a kind watchfulness over these little ones, who had yet many faults to overcome and battle against. She was the first to show them the love and care which they so much needed, and the first to win their little hearts for Christ, by speaking of Him in all His love and grace, and showing them their own need. Now she tried to help them on in that narrow path in which she hoped their little feet had started.

That road leads up to the Father's house, where Jesus has prepared mansions for those who love Him, and He is coming again to receive His blood-bought ones to Himself. The Lord has said He will return soon for His people. Are you ready? If your sins are not forgiven when He comes, you will be left behind for judgment. Jesus invites you now to come to Him — to believe the good message, that there is forgiveness for you through faith in His blood, which cleanses from all sin. If you put it off a single day, it may be too late!

When Susan spoke of the Lord's coming to these little ones, after they had learned their own sinfulness, and learned to love and trust Him who died for them, they would say,

"Oh, how nice! I wish Jesus would come now, then we should all go up to meet Him together."

"And you would not be afraid?" she asked.

"Afraid! No; not at all. He is my Saviour," answered little Rose.

"And mine, too. I know He loves me," echoed Robin, "and sometimes, Susan, I wish I could go and live with Jesus now. I should like to go today!"

Many a time the little boy had to learn the sinfulness of his own heart, but when he did a naughty or disobedient thing, he grieved over it very sincerely, and would never rest until he was forgiven and completely restored to favor.

"Susan, am I naughty now? Do forgive me. I'm sorry," he used to say. And when reminded of his sin in God's sight, used to go and kneel and confess his sin, and come back to say, "I'm all right now. Do kiss me, Susan."

They neither of them doubted the Saviour's love to them, though they had to learn that in themselves they were sinful and weak.

Rose, Robin and May learned to trust in the Lord Jesus Christ. He was their Saviour and Friend and He daily helped them to live in a way that would please Him and be a help to those around them.

The Lord Jesus is ready and willing to do the same today for all who will accept Him as their Saviour. He loved you so much He died for you and shed His blood so that your sins might be washed away. Won't you accept Him today?