Jill's Red Bag Part 11

Jill and b.u.mps both brightened up.

"Yes, b.u.mps, that will be the thing; you must put a halfpenny by, and that will be your tenth. I have two halfpennies you can have instead of your penny."

It needed a good deal of explaining to b.u.mps before she was completely satisfied. When that was done Jill produced her own purse. She was the richest of the three, for she owned three shillings and sixpence, but how to get a tenth out of it was a puzzle.

Miss Falkner, hearing their eager, excited voices, came to the rescue, and showed Jill that fourpence was the tenth of forty pence, and the two over would go towards the next tenth. Then she delighted her small pupils by producing a pretty scarlet flannel bag which she gave them as a "Tenth" bag. Their united coins rattled in, and though it was only fivepence-halfpenny, they felt as proud of it as if it had been five pounds.

"It's a beginning," said Jill to her governess as she was tucking her up in bed that night. "That's two beginnings I've made since you came here."

Miss Falkner's eyes glistened as she bent over her.

"My little Jill, I shall pray that G.o.d may never let you go back from these beginnings, as you call them. Ask Him to help you, dear. It is easier sometimes to make a beginning than go steadily on."

"Yes," said Jill sleepily; "but that's because the Golden City is such a long way off!"

VI

"G.o.d'S CABBAGES"

Sam was as good as his word. Before a week was out a minute board was erected by the children's heap of stones.

Big white letters confronted any pa.s.serby--

"BETHEL.

TRESPa.s.sERS WILL BE PROSECUTED."

And Jill made a point of visiting the spot at least once a day, to be sure that it was left unmolested.

"I'm coming to tea with you, Sam, soon," she announced one afternoon, as she sat on a gate swinging herself to and fro and watching the carpenter repairing a fence.

Sam lived alone with his old father, in a rose-covered cottage, at the corner of the village.

Sam was devoted to roses, and his little front garden was given up to their cultivation.

The back one was in his father's charge, and he grew cabbages.

"Father will be pleased to see you, missy, and so shall I," was Sam's quiet response.

"Then you must invite me properly, and ask me to-morrow, for Mona is going to take Miss Falkner out for a drive. And then we have tea with Annie. I hate my tea poured out by a schoolroom-maid!"

Jill's little nose was tilted scornfully in the air.

"Aye," said Sam smiling; "to-morrow will suit first-rate, missy. Father and me presents our duty, and will be pleased if you will favour us with your company to tea to-morrow at five o'clock."

This was the usual formula, and Jill clapped her hands in delight; then she said with becoming gravity--

"I shall be very pleased to come, Sam. Tell Mr. Stone I'll favour him."

Then she ran into the house, and told Jack and b.u.mps where she was going.

They were inclined to be cross at first, but Jack soon recovered himself.

"We'll do quite well without you. I shall play at Sinbad the Sailor, and b.u.mps is going to be my Old Man of the Sea. Annie likes to join sometimes, and we'll have our tea in the garden. She likes that, for the gardener has a cup of tea with us."

Miss Falkner heard of the invitation, but raised no objection, so punctually at five o'clock the next evening Jill walked into Sam Stone's cottage.

He and his father were expecting her. The tiny kitchen was in perfect order, and looked spotlessly clean.

The table was laid for tea; and a boiled egg for Jill, besides some watercress and currant buns, gave it quite a festive air.

Old Mr. Stone looked delighted to see her. He was a tall, active old man, with a long grey beard, and had always plenty to say for himself.

"'Tis a pleasure to see you, missy. Come right in, an' sit comfortable on my poor wife's rocking-cheer. 'Twas the last thing she sat in afore she died, an' I see her in it now a gaspin' an' chokin', an' smilin'

up at me so sadly like. 'Jim,' she sez, ''tis the Lord that did give me to yer, an' 'tis the Lord that do be goin' to take me away from yer.

Thank Him,' she sez, 'for all His mercies!' An' I sez to her, 'Jenny, my heart can't thank if my lips can, an' I'd rather say nothin' just now to the Almighty.' Jenny, she were always so properly religious!"

"And are you properly religious too, Mr. Stone?" questioned Jill as she took her seat at the table, and commenced with great pride and solemnity to pour out tea. She was always given the post of honour, behind the big flowered tin tea-tray, and much enjoyed the responsibilities of her position.

The old man shook his head.

"I fear I be a very improper Christian," he said.

"I wonder," said Jill reflectively, "whether your wife gave a tenth to G.o.d. Miss Falkner thinks all proper good people do."

"What be that, missy?"

"It's what Jacob did, you know, and we're going to try to do it. Don't you remember his vow? 'Of all that Thou shalt give me, I will surely give the tenth unto Thee.'"

Old Mr. Stone nodded his head.

"My fayther did allays give a little to our rector; that be it missy, that be it. 'Tis the beginning of it you have told of!"

"Do tell me," said Jill eagerly. "Do you think we could give our tenth to our rector?"

Sam and his father both tried then to give Jill a dissertation on t.i.thes. She hardly grasped it, but child-like returned pertinaciously to her business in hand.

"I want Sam to join us. I'm sure he has a lot of money. I hear it jingle in his pocket. And won't you too, Mr. Stone? If you will, you can come to our 'Bethel' and do it quite properly."

"I tell missy we be hard-workin' people, that be scarcely able to feed ourselves," said Sam.

"But a tenth isn't much," argued Jill. "Out of forty pennies you only have to give four. How much do you get from Mona, Sam?"

"A pound a week," answered Sam stolidly.

"Now, how many tens are in that, I wonder," Jill went on with interest; "you see, Sam, Miss Falkner says G.o.d sends us everything, so it does seem rather mean never to give anything back, doesn't it?"