The Little Missis Part 41

"So we will," she answered, with a happy smile; "we are both making a new start, and we will let nothing hinder us."

When the time came for their return home, there was great excitement among many of the Hadley people. The honeymoon had been considerably lengthened at Stephen's request, for two reasons--first, to give Phebe as long a rest as possible; and secondly, to give time for the beautifying of the old farmhouse on the hill above the town. Bay-windows and a porch had been built out, the front garden had been relaid, several rooms refurnished, and all had been kept a grand secret from Phebe.

"I tell you what it is," said Jim Coates, "she shall have a welcome like a d.u.c.h.ess, that she shall!" So instead of stepping into a cab as she expected she would do when she came out of the station, Phebe found a carriage-and-pair waiting them, and then at a certain bend of the road a whole body of men suddenly made their appearance, took out the horses, attached ropes to the carriage, and drew it along in triumphant style.

Just for a moment Phebe was quite startled; the idea suddenly presented itself that they were being captured by robbers--it was but for an instant--and then the sight of Jim Coates' face, and the triumphant look on Stephen's, made it all clear to her, and partly laughing, partly crying, she managed to exclaim: "It is too much--too much!--don't let them do it, Steve!" But it would have taken more than Steve to hinder that loyal little band of stalwarts, if even he had been willing, which he was not.

Wreaths of evergreens were stretched across the road, flags were fluttering everywhere; close to the house was a long banner, with the words in red letters, "Welcome home to the Little Missis and her husband."

As the men paused at the gate they had still breath enough to exclaim:

"Three cheers for the Little Missis and her husband!" and great hearty "Hip! Hip! Hurrahs!" rang out.

"But, Steve----" exclaimed Phebe, as she looked up at the unfamiliar-looking house, and then a second revelation came to her.

Steve answered her questioning look with a kiss on her cheek--and then there was another cheer.

Bessie and Janie were both standing at the gate, bearing a great basket of roses.

Bessie had decided that because she had not thought of scattering roses on the path at the wedding, she would do so at the home-coming.

"Yes, she shall walk on roses this time," Bessie exclaimed; "the other time she was married she had only cold potatoes. I mean to make up for that."

The idea of any one walking on cold potatoes fairly puzzled poor Janie.

"I never heard of such a thing!" she exclaimed. "I'm sure she didn't when she came home. I was there, and ought to know."

"You know well enough," retorted Bessie, "what a cold welcome she got.

Didn't I see you lay the supper-table? And didn't I tell you it looked more like a meal for an errand-boy than for a bride? Don't you remember that?"

"Yes," meekly answered the literal Janie, "but there were no cold potatoes messing about."

So the roses were strewed on her path by the two young women, who though so different in character, had both learnt to love her with a wonderful devotion. But before Phebe trod on the roses, she stopped to kiss her friends, and then turning round to the group of men who looked very hot but very happy, she said: "You have done us too much honour, but may G.o.d bless you." They could see that her face was wet with tears as well as radiant with smiles and then another cheer went up for "the Little Missis and her husband."

Dear old Nanna was standing on the doorstep with Jack by her side.

"Welcome home, dear heart!" said Nanna, kissing her and giving her a motherly hug.

Jack stood patiently by till he thought Nanna had had her full share, and then gave her a gentle reminder with his hand that it was his turn now.

Did the sight of the loaded table and the gay, bright room bring back to her any thoughts of the past? If they did, no shadow from the past was allowed to linger.

In a month's time they were all fairly settled down. Jack, Mrs. Colston and Janie had all removed to "the house on the hill," and Aunt Lizzie had taken up her residence at the business establishment, there to remain, G.o.d willing, till Jack should reach his majority.

"Nanna," said Phebe one day, "do you remember telling me that a Christian is not perfected till death, that we have to be trained and disciplined? And do you remember what discipline I needed?"

"Yes, I remember it well. You see, I'm always thinking about it because I like to watch the process."

"I have been thinking G.o.d has ceased to do any training with me--could it be that He is disappointed with me?--that because I have not come up to what He expected, He has put me on one side."

"Why, dearie, what has put that into your head?"

"What discipline have I got now? Peace and joy and prosperity are with me in abundance."

"All G.o.d's training is not done by pain. Bless me, the flowers know better than that! The cold winds and rains make them bloom right enough, but the sunshine has a good share in the work as well. Instead of you having no training just now, the sunshine all round you is doing it as fast as it can. And if G.o.d sees you can stand the sunshine without getting puffed up, or careless, or proud--I know you will forgive an old woman's plain words--He perhaps has glorious plans of work for you in the future. He can discipline and train you by all this wealth He has given you."

"Trust you," replied Phebe, laughing, "for never giving me the ghost of a chance of being miserable. I never saw anybody like you for ruthlessly stripping away every shred of the blues!"

"Do you want to keep a few of the blue rags, then?"

"No, you know I do not."

"Dear heart," said Nanna tenderly, "there was a time when you had to search round for your bright bits: now you are surrounded with it, take in all you can get--rejoice and exult in it, and don't lose one bit simply because you have got so much."

When Phebe repeated this conversation to her husband, he added: "If G.o.d has crowned you with joy, sweetheart--and I hope from my heart He has done so--do not let anybody put a thorn in the crown G.o.d did not mean to be there. I would like to crown you every day myself with joy if I could--my queen!--my ray of glory!"

"But, Steve, be serious."

"I never was calmer in my life. You know I mean every word I say--say you do!"

"Yes, you loyal lover mine," linking her arm in his, "but you don't have a monopoly in love for all that," looking up at him with a smile on her sweet face. "Now, I want to ask you a very serious question."

"Ask on, my queen."

"But it is really serious."

"And so am I. What is it, darling?" bending down to kiss her. He never seemed to tire of proving to himself that she actually, after all the weary years of waiting, belonged to him, and he to her.

"If G.o.d were to call me home to-night," she said in a low voice, "I should not want to go. That cannot be a right frame of mind to be in, now, is it?"

"Yes, it is; a perfectly right frame of mind. If you were wanting to go home just now, it would seem to show you were not satisfied with what G.o.d had provided for you. When the call does come you may feel very different from what you do now. I never think we can be exactly sure what we should do under certain conditions--supposed conditions. It is only the present moment that we need to concern ourselves about, and I think we can both say we are ready this minute to do G.o.d's will. Don't you think so, sweetheart?"

"G.o.d's will for us just now is so sweet," she answered, "that I somewhat mistrust myself. But I can truly pray, 'Teach me to do Thy will, O my G.o.d.'"

"And that is everything," he exclaimed. "It is by our desires G.o.d judges us. And, sweetheart," again bending tenderly over her, "when the call does come, whether to you or to me, we'll clasp hands, if we can, to the last moment, and then we'll wait patiently till we clasp them again in the Sunny Land."

"The Little Missis" had been toe well trained for the sunshine to spoil her--it did but bring out still fairer beauties in her character; and no end of work came to her, or she went to it, whichever way you prefer to have it.

The Great Gardener had kept this flower for long years in an exposed position, where winds and frosts had worked their will; and many a time had He bent over it, with loving look but with firm hand, to shape it into more perfect form and fairer beauty.

And then He said: "I will put it into a sunny place."

He did so.

And there in that place of sunlight, by its very beauty it brought praise to His Name, and the winds which once had been so rough with it, bore its fragrance afar.

THE END