What She Could Part 25

"Of Luke?" said Ailie. "Here it is. But I don't like Luke so well as Matthew; do you? Well, begin."

They began and read on, verse by verse, until fourteen verses were read. There they paused.

"What does this mean?" said Matilda, knitting her small brows.

"Isn't it right to ask our friends to tea or anything? Why, Jesus went to dine with this Pharisee," said Mary, looking up.

"Yes; but that is another thing," said Matilda. "You see, we must ask the people who have no friends."

"But why not our friends too?"

"Perhaps it would cost too much to ask _everybody_," said Ailie. "One would be giving parties all the time; and they cost, I can tell you."

"But some people are rich enough," said Mary.

"Those people don't make parties for the poor, though," said Ailie.

"Catch them!"

"But then, _can_ it mean that it is wrong to have our friends come and see us?" said Matilda.

"It cannot be wrong. Don't you remember, Martha and Mary used to have Jesus come to their house? and they used to make suppers for Him."

"But _He_ was poor," said Matilda.

"That is different, too, from having a party, and making a great fuss,"

said Ailie.

"And _that_ is done just to pay one's debts," said Matilda, "for I have heard mother say so. People ask her, and so she must ask people. And that is what it means, girls, I guess. See, 'lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense be made thee.' That isn't making a feast for people that you love."

"Then it is wicked to ask people just that they may ask you," said Mary Edwards.

"Instead of that, we must ask people who _cannot_ ask us," said Matilda.

"But how queer we should be!" said Ailie Swan. "Just think; we should not be like anybody else. And what should we do if people asked us?"

"I don't care," said Matilda. "See, girls;--'thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just.'"

"And is that what it means in the next verse?" said Mary Edwards. "But I don't understand that. 'Blessed is he that shall eat bread in the kingdom of G.o.d.' Do they eat bread there? I thought they didn't."

"It is like what we read a little way back," said Matilda, flirting over one or two leaves, "yes, here in the 12th chapter--'Blessed are those servants whom the Lord when He cometh shall find watching; verily I say unto you, that He shall gird Himself, and make them to sit down to meat, and will come forth and serve them.'"

"That means Jesus," said Mary Edwards. "He will make them to sit down to meat!--and will serve them. What does it mean, I wonder?"

"It means, that Jesus will give them good things," said Ailie.

"I guess they will be blessed, then, that eat when He feeds them," said the other little girl. "I would like to be there."

"There is a verse or two that my Bible turns to," said Matilda. "In the Revelation. 'And he saith unto me, Write, Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb.' Oh, don't you like to read in the Revelation? But we are all called; aren't we?"

"And here, in our chapter," said Mary, "it goes on to tell of the people who were called and wouldn't come. So I suppose everybody is called; and some won't come."

"Some don't get the invitation," said Matilda, looking up.

"A good many don't, I guess," said Ailie. "Who do you think gets it in Lilac Lane?"

"n.o.body, hardly, I guess," said Mary Edwards; "there don't many people come to church out of Lilac Lane."

"But then, girls," said Matilda, "don't you think we ought to take it there? the invitation, I mean?"

"How can we? Why, there are lots of people in Lilac Lane that I would be afraid to speak to."

"I wouldn't be afraid," said Matilda. "They wouldn't do us any harm."

"But what would you say to them, Tilly?"

"I would just ask them to come, Ailie. I would take the message to them. Just think, Ailie, of that time, of that supper--when Jesus will give good things with His own hand;--and how many people would come if they knew. I would tell everybody. Don't you think we ought to?"

"I don't like to speak to people much," said Ailie. "They would think I was setting myself up."

"It is only carrying the message," said Matilda. "And that is what Jesus was doing _all the time_, you know; and He has told us to follow Him."

"Then must we be telling it all the time too?" asked Ailie. "We should do nothing else."

"Oh yes, we should. That would not hinder," said Matilda. "It doesn't take so very long to say a word. Here is another verse, girls; this is in the Revelation too; listen. This must be what those other verses mean: 'They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters; and G.o.d shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.'"

As if a thrill from some chord of an angel's harp had reached them, the children were still for a moment.

"I don't believe the people are happy in Lilac Lane," said Matilda.

"Maybe they are," said Ailie. "But I guess they can't be. People that are not good can't be happy."

"And Jesus has given us the message to take to everybody," said Matilda; "and when we come up there to that supper, and He asks us if we took the message to the people in the lane, what shall we say? I know what I would like to say."

"But there are other people, besides in the lane," said Ailie.

"We must take it to them too," said Mary Edwards.

"We _can't_ take it to everybody."

"No; only to _everybody that we can_," said Matilda. "Just think how glad some of those people will be, when they hear it. What should we do if Mr. Richmond had never told it to us?"

Ailie bit her lip. Whether by design or not, Mary Edwards turned to her Testament and read the next words that followed in course.

"And there went great mult.i.tudes with Him: and He turned, and said unto them, If any man come unto me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple."

And seeing Mr. Ulshoeffer coming to open the door, the little conclave broke up. The children and teachers came pouring in for the Sunday-School.

Going out after it was over, Matilda noticed a face she had not seen; a boy older than herself, but not very old, standing near the door, looking at the small crowd that trooped along the aisle. The thought came to Matilda that he was a new scholar, and if so, somebody ought to welcome him; but n.o.body did, that she could see. He stood alone, looking at the people as if they were strange to him; with a good, bright, wide-awake face, handsome and bold. Matilda did not want to take the welcoming upon herself, but she thought somebody should do it; and the next minute she had paused in front of the stranger.