The Carpenter's Daughter Part 8

Mathieson's attention. He reached out his arm and drew Nettie toward him, as she was pa.s.sing between the cupboard and the table. Then he looked at her, but he did not say how she looked.

"Do you know day after to-morrow is Christmas day?" said he.

"Yes, I know. It's the day when Christ was born," said Nettie.

"Well, I don't know anything about that," said her father; "but what I mean is, that a week after is New Year. What would you like me to give you, Nettie,--hey?"

Nettie stood still for a moment, then her eyes lighted up.

"Will you give it to me, father, if I tell you?"

"I don't know. If it is not extravagant, perhaps I will."

"It will not cost much," said Nettie, earnestly. "Will you give me what I choose, father, if it does not cost too much?"

"I suppose I will. What is it?"

"Father, you wont be displeased?"

"Not I!" said Mr. Mathieson, drawing Nettie's little form tighter in his grasp; he thought he had never felt it so slight and thin before.

"Father, I am going to ask you a great thing!--to go to church with me New Year's day."

"To church!" said her father, frowning; but he remembered his promise, and he felt Nettie in his arms yet. "What on earth good will that do you?"

"A great deal of good. It would please me so much, father."

"What do you want me to go to church for?" said Mr. Mathieson, not sure yet what humour he was going to be in.

"To thank G.o.d, father, that there was a Christmas; when Jesus came, that we might have a New Year."

"What? what?" said Mr. Mathieson. "What are you talking about?"

"Because, father," said Nettie, trembling, and seizing her chance, "since Jesus loved us and came and died for us, we all may have a New Year of glory. I shall, father; and I want you too. Oh do, father!" and Nettie burst into tears. Mr. Mathieson held her fast, and his face showed a succession of changes for a minute or so. But she presently raised her head from his shoulder, where it had sunk, and kissed him, and said--

"May I have what I want, father?"

"Yes--go along," said Mr. Mathieson. "I should like to know how to refuse you, though. But, Nettie, don't you want me to give you anything else?"

"Nothing else!" she told him, with her face all shining with joy. Mr.

Mathieson looked at her and seemed very thoughtful all supper time.

"Can't you strengthen that child up a bit?" he said to his wife afterwards. "She does too much."

"She does as little as I can help," said Mrs. Mathieson; "but she is always at something. I am afraid her room is too cold o' nights. She aint fit to bear it. It's bitter up there."

"Give her another blanket or quilt, then," said her husband. "I should think you would see to that. Does she say she is cold?"

"No,--never except sometimes when I see her looking blue, and ask her."

"And what does she say then?"

"She says sometimes she is a little cold."

"Well, do put something more over her, and have no more of it!" said her husband, violently. "Sit still and let the child be cold, when another covering would make it all right!" And he ended with swearing at her.

Mrs. Mathieson did not dare to tell him that Nettie's food was not of a sufficiently nourishing and relishing kind; she knew what the answer to that would be; and she feared that a word more about Nettie's sleeping-room would be thought an attack upon Mr. Lumber's being in the house. So she was silent.

But there came home something for Nettie in the course of the Christmas week, which comforted her a little, and perhaps quieted Mr. Mathieson too. He brought with him, on coming home to supper one evening, a great thick roll of a bundle, and put it in Nettie's arms, telling her that was for her New Year.

"For me!" said Nettie, the colour starting a little into her cheeks.

"Yes, for you. Open it, and see."

So Nettie did, with some trouble, and there tumbled out upon the floor a great heavy warm blanket, new from the shop. Mr. Mathieson thought the pink in her cheeks was the prettiest thing he had seen in a long while.

"Is this for _me_, father?"

"I mean it to be so. See if it will go on that bed of yours and keep you warm."

Nettie gave her father some very hearty thanks, which he took in a silent, pleased way; and then she hastened off with her blanket upstairs. How thick and warm it was! and how nicely it would keep her comfortable when she knelt, all wrapped up in it, on that cold floor.

For a little while it would; not even a warm blanket would keep her from the cold more than a little while at a time up there. But Nettie tried its powers the first thing she did.

Did Mr. Mathieson mean the blanket to take the place of his promise?

Nettie thought of that, but like a wise child she said nothing at all till the Sunday morning came. Then, before she set off for Sunday-school, she came to her father's elbow.

"Father, I'll be home a quarter after ten; will you be ready then?"

"Ready for what?" said Mr. Mathieson.

"For my New Year's," said Nettie. "You know you promised I should go to church with you."

"Did I? And aint you going to take the blanket for your New Year's, and let me off, Nettie?"

"No, father, to be sure not. I'll be home at a quarter past; please don't forget." And Nettie went off to school very thankful and happy, for her father's tone was not unkind. How glad she was New Year's day had come on Sunday.

Mr. Mathieson was as good as his word. He was ready at the time, and they walked to the church together. That was a great day to Nettie. Her father and mother going to church in company with her and with each other. But n.o.body that saw her sober sweet little face would have guessed how very full her heart was of prayer, even as they walked along the street among the rest of the people. And when they got to church, it seemed as if every word of the prayers and of the reading and of the hymns and of the sermon, struck on all Nettie's nerves of hearing and feeling. Would her father understand any of those sweet words? would he feel them? would they reach him? Nettie little thought that what he felt most, what _did_ reach him, though he did not thoroughly understand it, was the look of her own face; though she never but once dared turn it toward him. There was a little colour in it more than usual; her eye was deep in its earnestness; and the grave set of her little mouth was broken up now and then in a way that Mr. Mathieson wanted to watch better than the straight sides of her sun-bonnet would let him. Once he thought he saw something more.

He walked home very soberly, and was a good deal on the silent order during the rest of the day. He did not go to church in the afternoon.

But in the evening, as her mother was busy in and out getting supper ready, and Mr. Lumber had not come in, Mr. Mathieson called Nettie to his side.

"What was you crying for in church this forenoon?" he said, low.

"Crying!" said Nettie, surprised. "Was I crying?"

"If it wasn't tears I saw dropping from under your hands on to the floor, it must have been some drops of rain that had got there, and I don't see how they could very well. There warn't no rain outside. What was it for, hey?"

There came a great flush all over Nettie's face, and she did not at once speak.