xt Thin? 82 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. ask her address," Christi'e concluded. "She did look so poor and forlorn, and I suppose there are ever so many things she needs. Perhaps we girls might have been able to do ever so many nice little things for her if we only knew where she lived." "It would have been a very good plan to get her address," Mrs. Gilbert assented. "It is just possible that you may see her again some time, for she will have to go backward and forward on the boat a great deal if she brings the baby in to the hospital every day. Of course it would be a mere chance, but you might watch for her." " I do hope we will happen to meet her," Christie said, with a brightening face. "I shall always feel sorry when I think of her if I don't see her again. She did look so friendless and discouraged. ' ' The conversation drifted to other subjects, and the little party sat finishing their lunch very leisurely until Mrs. Gilbert glanced at her watch with an exclamation of surprise. "We must make haste or we shall lose the two o'clock train," she said. "Come, girls, gather up your bundles, and we will do the best we can to get over to the station in time." They found they had not a moment to spare and had barely time to hurry on the ferry-boat before the gate was shut. ' 'YE NEXTE THYNGE." 83 Christie's eyes roamed among the passengers in eager quest of the woman with her baby, al- though she would not let herself hope that the object of her search might be in the same boat. "Christie, I see her!" exclaimed Achsah, touching Christie's arm to attract her attention. "Where?" queried Christie eagerly. " In that corner at the end of the cabin. You can hardly get a glimpse of her, but she is just behind that stout man reading a newspaper." Christie's face grew radiant. "Oh, I am so glad!" she exclaimed joyfully. " Mother, may I go and speak to her now; I am afraid it will be too late after the boat stops." Mrs. Gilbert smiled assent, and a moment later the thin tired face of the woman lighted up with a smile of pleased recognition as her friend of the morning spoke to her. Christie stayed by her until the boat had nearly reached the other side of the river, and then went back to her mother, lest the little party should be separated in the confusion which always followed the land- ing of the boats. "Mother, I believe she is my 'nexte thynge,' " she whispered, as she deposited her bundles by her mother's side in the train. "I will tell }'ou all about her when we get home, and I am be- ginning to have an idea about her already." 84 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. There was an answering smile in Airs. Gil- bert's eyes as Christie's blue ones looked into her face, full of eager enthusiasm. It was a pleasure to her to encourage Christie in any of her kindly plans for the happiness of others, and the young girl had learned years ago that her mother was always a sympathizing confidante, so she never failed to go to her first of all, whenever a plan suggested itself to her busy brain, assured of help and encouragement. That very afternoon the dress was begun ; the breadths for the skirt were cut off, and Christie sewed them on the machine while Achsah basted, under Mrs. Gilbert's directions. "Achsah, don't take the dress over to the In- stitute when it's done, but come over here and dress for Commencement evening, so mother can help us both. It will be ever so much pleasanter than getting dressed all by yourself at the school. I want to fix your hair myself, and mother will give the finishing- touches to your sash and nich- ing, wont you, mother?" "I shall be very glad to have two girls to dress instead of one," Mrs. Gilbert responded. "I think that will be a very good plan, Achsah, if you would like it." "Of course I would like it above all things," exclaimed Achsah eagerly. "Why, I should feel U YE NEXTE THYNGE." 85 just as if I belonged somewhere, instead of being all by myself." "We are going to be so proud of Achsah's valedictory that we'll be proud to make believe you belong to us, even if it's only to the extent of dressing here," laughed Christie. A little shadow clouded the brightness of Achsah's face. "I have been thinking so many times lately how lovely it must be to have a mother to be pleased if one does well," she said. "You are so good and kind to me, Mrs. Gilbert, that I real- ize more than ever how much it is to have a mother." Mrs. Gilbert gave her a loving little hug, as she brought her work over to her for inspection. "I know no one can take a mother's place, dear," she said, "but you must accept me for a substitute now and then, and let me be interested in all that you do." Achsah sealed the compact with a kiss, as the motherly embrace stirred her heart to its depths, and she knew that the old desolate feeling had taken to itself wings for ever. When the evening meal was concluded and Achsah began somewhat reluctantly to make preparations for her return to the Institute, she saw Christie's eyes fixed on her half wistfully. "What is it, Christie?" she asked. "I see 86 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. you are just aching to say something, and I want to know what it is." "I really have a great mind to tell you," Christie answered. "I wonder what you would think of me if I gave you a little scolding, Ach- sah?" "I should think you were the very kindest and best of friends, and meant it for my good," returned Achsah promptly. "Please tell me, Christie." 14 1 wish you wouldn't hide your real self away," said Christie, with a little effort. "Wont you just be your bright natural self when Monday comes, instead of Ishmael? I do want the other girls to know you as you really are, and I know you would like them so much if you only were acquainted with them; and it seems such a pity for a mutual misunderstanding to go on to the end of the term. Please, Achsah. ' ' The old hard expression came back upon the girl's features, and she shook her head. "I can't do that for you, Christie," she said. "I don't care what the girls think of me. If any of them had ever showed me the least kind- ness or consideration I might think about it, but it is too late now. I don't care whether they think I am disagreeable or not." Christie looked disappointed. "YE NEXTE THYNGE." 87 "I don't think you are quite fair to them," she said gently. "I am sure if you will only show yourself willing to be friendly you wont find them unwilling to meet you half way at least." Achsah looked incredulous. "No, they have never liked me, because I had not nice clothes to wear ; and I am sure nothing I could do would make them change their opinions of me. I don't mind how the rest of them act now, you are so good to me." "Indeed, Achsah, it has never been your clothes altogether that kept the girls from being friendly towards you," said Christie earnestly. "I know that they have felt that you did not like them and would not feel kindly towards them, so naturally they left you alone. If you would only act at school as you have acted here, you would find yourself just as popular as any girl. I do wish you would, just to please rne, if for no other reason." Still Achsah hesitated, but she could not re- sist Christie's pleading. "Well, I will try," she said, with sudden re- solve. "I will be just as pleasant as I possibly can, since you want me to, though I know it wont do any good. I don't feel so lonely and bitter any more, so it wont be as hard as it would have 88 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. been last week or even this week to be pleasant. I wish I could half thank you, not only for the dress, but for this lovely visit. I don't know when I have ever enjoyed myself so much, and I shall never feel again as I did yesterday after- noon, when you found me crying over my dress." "I have enjoyed your visit, too," said Chris- tie, "and I am only sorry that I never got ac- quainted with you before, for we might have had so many pleasant times together. This must be the beginning, though, instead of the end." It was a light-hearted Achsah that went back to Maplewood Institute just as the shadows were beginning to gather. She sat in the twilight until the stars had begun to gleam out one by one, and then she rose and lighted her lamp, with a look of pleasant -determination upon her face. "I will do my very best now," she said, as she drew her portfolio towards her and bent over some papers which she took from it. "Now that I shall look -as well as the other girls, and have some one to care whether I succeed or not, I shall work harder than I ever have before to make my valedictory the best work I have accomplished." She read over her essay again and again, with a thoughtful frown upon her brow, correcting a "YE NEXTE THYXGE." 89 phrase here and altering a sentence there, until it suited her better. At last nine o'clock was pealed slowly out by the clock in the church tower, and she put her work away and prepared for bed. When her light was extinguished she raised the curtain, and kneeling down beside the win- dow looked up into the quiet starlit sky. "Mother," was her heart's thought, "I won- der if you love me and think of me sometimes when you are so far away. Are you glad to- night that I am so happy and that I have found friends?" Some new impulse made her bow her head as she knelt there, with the stars looking down upon her like the eyes of angels, and breathe a prayer of gratitude to God for the joy the day had brought her and a supplication for forgiv- ing and restoring grace. Achsah's life had been a prayerless one of late, and it was no wonder her burdens had seemed too heavy to be borne, when she had tried to carry them alone and un- aided. Brief as was her prayer to-night, it was one step in the right direction in the path that was to lead her back to the God whom her parents had loved and served, and to whom they had consecrated her at her very birth. The bitter 90 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. thoughts she had harbored so long were gone to-night, and her heart was not filled with envy of those who had the blessings of which her own life had been barren, but loving thoughts of Christie's kindness made her last waking mo- ments happy ones and mingled with her dreams. COMMENCEMENT. 91 CHAPTER VIII. COMMENCEMENT. ACHSAH did not forget her promise to Chris- tie, and she found herself looking forward to the surprise of the girls when they should discover that she was really trying to be pleasant and agreeable, instead of apparently seeking for ways in which to be perverse. She was at her desk Monday morning when Louise Rushton and Ella Lindsay entered the schoolroom, and glancing up she nodded with a pleasant good morning. "Ishmael is in a friendly mood this morning, isn't she?" said Ella softly, behind her desk cover. * ' Yes, she seems to be, ' ' returned Louise. ' ' I wonder what has got into her anyhow. How nice her hair looks too. It's a pity her pleasant mood wont last. I suppose she would snap my head off if I should venture another remark on the strength of her having sajd good morning." A few minutes later she uttered a petulant exclamation. "Did you ever know anything quite so pro- 92 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. voking ! I have left my geometry at home, and I do n't know what I '11 do without it. - You can't spare me yours, can you, Ella?" "I'm really sorry I can't, but I haven't looked at the lesson at all yet," Ella responded. 41 1 shall have to study every moment until reci- tation to get through at all. It 's too bad." "Well, I'll have to go home again, that's all!" responded Louise. "I '11 be late for school, too, and lose all this time: but I don't see any help for it." Two days ago Achsah would not have paid any attention to this conversation, but now a new desire was actuating her, and she looked up from her book as Louise arose. "You can take my geometry if you wish," she said, proffering the book. "I am almost certain that I know it, and if you can let me have it just the last ten minutes, to- make sure of it, I can spare the book now just as well as not." "It's ever so good of you, Achsah," Louise said gratefully. "I did hate to think of that long walk in the sun, and then I need all my time for study this morning, anyway. I meant to get up early, but I overslept myself, so I'm not half prepared with any of my recitations. Are you sure you can spare the book ?' ' "Oh, yes, you are welcome to it," Achsah COMMENCEMENT. 93 answered pleasantly, and so Louise took the book with warm thanks, and sat down to pore over the lesson, wondering in between the problems if it had been her own fault that she had always thought Achsah's manner disagreeable before. Christie's cordial greeting to Achsah when she came in rather surprised the others, who had not known of her visit; but no comment was made, and when they saw that Achsah responded pleasantly to all advances, she met with kindness from the others too, who had heretofore been somewhat in awe of her sharp speeches. As the days passed away one and another regretted that they had not found out before what a bright com- panion Achsah could be, and she was compelled to admit that it had been largely her own fault that she had been left to herself before, for the girls were quite ready to be social and pleasant when they found she was willing to be friendly. The great day came at last to which seven at least of the Maplewood students had been eagerly looking forward for the past year. It was a per- fect June day, clear and cloudless, and the beau- tiful weather completed the girls' happiness, for many of them had friends w'ho were to come from a distance to witness the closing exercises. Weston was very proud of its Institute, and a great deal of interest was always manifested in 94 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. Commencement night, so it was not strange that the girls felt as if they closed their school life with the eyes of all their little world resting upon them. "It's a shame Ishmael can't have a decent dress for once," Louise Rushton said that morn- ing to Grace Davenport, as for the last time the girls gathered in the old schoolroom to rehearse their essays and go through the programme for the evening's entertainment. "I believe she would be really pretty if she was only dressed becomingly," Grace returned, as she looked at the quiet face which had lost its fretful, peevish expression. "Poor old Ishmael, it's enough to sour any one's disposition to have to wear the clothes that she does. Hush, she 's going to begin her valedictory. I'm eager to hear it." All the class were anxious to hear their vale- dictorian's essay, and there was a profound silence while Achsah took her place. None of the girls feared that she would disappoint them, for she was admitted to be the best writer in school, and had invariably won the first prize for composition every year. She had a clear voice, and enun- ciated distinctly, and every word could be easily heard. The girls glanced at each other in de- light as she proceeded. The principal smiled COMMENCEMENT. 95 with satisfaction as she thought of the credit that Achsah would reflect on the Institute, and she too wished that the girl might be well dressed for once. Graceful and eloquent was the valedictory, and at times almost pathetic, for Achsah had realized at last all that the class might have been to each other in the way of mutual help and sym- pathy. That she had stood outside the charmed circle had been largely her own fault, and the late friendliness which she had proffered and won had given her a dim realization of the friendship that might have grown to be a strong bond of union between them. As she concluded there was a hearty outburst of applause, led by her classmates and joined in by the whole school, which Miss Giddings did not attempt to check. School rules were not very rigidly adhered to this last day of the term, and she felt that Achsah deserved this little triumph. As Achsah went back to her seat, blushing at the generous meed of praise so freely bestowed upon her, she caught Christie's smile of loving congratulation, and an answering light shone in her own eyes. Christie's kindness had been her inspiration to do her best, and the thought that she had some one to rejoice in her success stimu- lated her to even more than her wonted exertion. 96 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. It had been a pleasant surprise to her to find that all her classmates were so willing to show their appreciation and felt her success to be a class honor, and all trace of bitterness left her as she recognized their kindly spirit. Perhaps Miss Giddings suspected that mother- ly Mrs. Gilbert intended to make some addition to Achsah's usual plain toilet, for she very will- ingly assented to Christie's petition that Achsah might spend the rest of the day with her and dress at her house; so when rehearsal was over the girls dispersed, not to meet again until the evening. Although every day for some time beforehand had been occupied with preparations, yet none of the girls were idle this last afternoon. There were finishing touches to be put upon the filmy dresses for the evening, a few last moments spent upon some difficult passage in a piece of music, or a little more familiarity to be gained with the essays which they already knew almost by heart. The girls that lived near each other paid fly- ing visits, and admired each other's dresses and evening preparations, and Mrs. Gilbert's room was invaded half a dozen times by girls eager to see Christie's dress once more. It had arrived the day before, and Christie was in an ecstasy of COMMENCEMENT. 97 delight over the pretty dress, with its soft laces and floating ribbons. In the next room Achsah's dress was spread out upon the bed, none the less beautiful to her eyes, although she shared in Christie's admira- tion of her own dress. No one had asked Ach- sah what she intended to wear, though all the various details of the dresses of the rest of the class had been discussed again and again by al- most all the school, who took the most profound interest in their seniors' doings upon Commence- ment, and Achsah and Christie laughed over the anticipated surprise of the girls when they should see Achsah make her appearance that evening as daintily robed as the rest. The tempting tea that Mrs. Gilbert had pro- vided was slighted by the girls, who were too ex- cited over the evening's events to feel any appe- tite, and at six o'clock they pleaded to begin to dress. "Oh, Christie," Achsah exclaimed, throwing her arms about her friend's neck, as she touched her pretty dress with almost loving fingers, "I don't know how to thank you enough, and Mrs. Gilbert too. How miserable I should be to-night if I had nothing to wear but one of my old dresses. I shouldn't have courage to read my essay if I felt that I was disgracing you all." 98 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. "No fear of that," laughed Christie, "when you are going to carry off all the honors." Mrs. Gilbert helped the girls, and Achsah en- joyed the motherly touches that made her look as if loving hands had been at work for her. There was real affection in the kiss she gave Achsah and in her wishes for her success that evening, when the two girls started for the hall where the Commencement exercises were to be held. Her sympathies had been warmly enlisted in behalf of the motherless girl, and it had been a pleasure to her to do all she could to make this last evening of her school-life a happy one. When Achsah entered the little room that had been set apart for the graduates, there was a buzz of admiration as the girls gathered about her and freely expressed their approbation of her dress and appearance, and Christie was radiant over the success of her plan. A little later the hour for opening the even- ing's exercises had arrived, and looking like a "rosebud garden of girls" the school took their places in the hall, while the graduates went to the seats assigned them upon the platform. The exercises passed off with great enjoyment to the audience. One after another the girls, with their hearts beating with timidity and excitement, read their essays or played their selections, and at COMMENCEMENT. 99 last the time had come for Achsah's valedictory. She had been apt to be somewhat awkward and abrupt in her movements, but this evening the self-respect which her toilet gave her lent her ease and grace. None of the other girls pos- sessed Achsah's marked individuality, and none proved more attractive in appearance than the slender, dark-haired girl who came forward as the class valedictorian. For a moment her courage failed her and her cheeks paled as she saw the sea of expectant faces before her; then she saw Mrs. Gilbert's kind face looking encouragingly towards her, and summon- ing her resolution she determined that she would do her best, that this kind friend should not be disappointed. The first few words were tremu- lous, but then her will asserted itself and the clear young voice could be heard all over the hall, while the audience listened appreciatively to the speaker. When the last words had died away a hearty burst of applause showed the appreciation of the audience, and Achsah was called forward again to receive a basket of flowers, to which Mrs. Gil- bert's card was attached. Achsah's heart swelled with gratitude at this proof of thoughtful kindness. She had not let herself expect any flowers, as she had no friends ioo CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. to remember her in this way, as the other girls had, so it was a delightful surprise to find that even this happiness was added to the other pleas- ures of the evening. Nothing had been lacking, and when the diploma for which she had studied so faithfully was placed in her hand, she did not remember any of the trials of her school-days, but only the happiness with which the last two weeks had been laden. "I owe it all to you, Christie," she whis- pered gratefully. "Only the very smallest part of it, dear," Christie returned. "Nothing that I did made your essay the best of all, and made you deliver it so well. I 'm just as proud of you as I can be, and so is mother. I was watching her face while you were speaking, and she looked just as happy as if I had been the one who was distinguishing myself." Congratulations were not wanting, but the words Achsah valued most of all were the moth- erly ones which Mrs. Gilbert whispered. Miss Giddings was so pleased with Achsah's success that she treated her with an affectionate pride that was almost bewildering to the girl, who had never supposed that she was any favorite with the principal. Christie's Next Things. Page 101 COMMENCEMENT. IOI She was chatting merrily with Christie when Miss Giddings came to her again and said gra- ciously, "I am sorry to part you from your compan- ion for a few moments, Achsah, but some friends of mine are anxious to meet you, and I prom- ised to bring you to them." Achsah followed Miss Giddings and was pres- ently introduced to a lady and gentleman who had been among the guests of the evening. Miss Giddings left them after a few words of explanation to Achsah, and an interview fol- lowed which made the young girl's face radiant with delight. "What has happened to you?" asked Chris- tie laughingly, when she returned to her side a little later with a suppressed eagerness in her manner that betrayed her excitement. "Have your friends presented you with a gold mine?" "I feel as if they had," Achsah returned. "Oh, Christie, can you believe it? for I hardly can: that gentleman and lady came here for a teacher, and have been inquiring about me of Miss Giddings, and have asked me if I would go to them after school closes, and teach their little girl who is a cripple. They are going to travel this summer and in the winter they live in the city. Is n't it too good to believe?" io2 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. "Splendid!" returned Christie, who knew how necessary it was that her friend should have an early opportunity of putting her education to practical use. " Tell me all about it." "Well, I must begin by saying that she liked my essay," began Achsah, blushing a little; "and then Miss Giddings was kind enough to praise my scholarship, and say that I had been very thorough in all my studies. She told her, too, that I had been fitting myself with a view to teaching as soon as I could get a position. This lady has been wanting to procure a young teacher for her little girl, who could be something of a companion as well as a teacher, and so the de- mand and supply being brought together, the arrangement was concluded at once. She apolo- gized for speaking about it to-night, but said she thought we could arrange matters more satisfac- torily than if she waited to write. I am so happy, for I was afraid I should have to wait until next fall at least and perhaps longer. You can't make me believe, Christie dear, that I don't owe this good fortune to you, for I know she would never have even wanted to engage me if I had been dressed in that hideous green, and mumbled my essay in the subdued tones which I certainly should have chosen if I had felt myself to be a shabby, friendless waif." COMMENCEMENT. 103 " You cau insist that I added a little to your outside adornments if you are determined to," Christie said, "but you will find it very hard to convince me that she engaged this dress as an in- structress." The friends were separated for a time as Christie was called away to speak to some family friends who wanted to congratulate her upon her essay and diploma, but there was no danger of Achsah's being neglected or left alone. There were plenty to pay attention to the young vale- dictorian who had borne her honors so modestly, and it was an evening of triumph for Achsah. Long after the_guests had dispersed, and the tired girls had gone to rest, she tossed restlessly about, thinking of the events of the evening, her prom- ising future, and of the friend who had so gen- erously helped her to be at her best for once. "I never can repay Christie and kind Mrs. Gilbert, never," she said to herself again and again. "I wish I might some day become famous, a friend really worth having," she thought to her- self. "No matter how many friends I have, I shall never forget that Christie came to me when I was alone and friendless and no one cared what became of me. I was wholly discouraged that day, and had almost made up my mind to stop 104 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. trying to be anybody or to learn anything; and she put new hopefulness into ine, and was kind to me even after I had repulsed her. Sweet, gen- erous Christie ! I can't love her enough to repay her for all this." With tender thoughts of her friend she fell asleep, forgetting entirely the infinitely more loving and patient Friend who had given her this earthly friend, and whose love was more for- bearing and enduring than any human love could be. PLANS. 105 CHAPTER IX. PLANS. IT was two weeks after Commencement, and the girls had begun to weary of their idleness after the excitement of the closing scenes of their school-life, and some of them to almost wish that they had a regular routine of lessons to look for- ward to in the fall, they felt so objectless with their school-days behind them. Achsah alone did not have any opportunity to share this feeling. After a week spent with Christie, during which Mrs. Gilbert insisted upon helping her prepare a suitable wardrobe for her new home, she had gone away to enjoy a pleasant summer in travel, as well as to begin her chosen vocation of teaching. Christie had never let her know that she had given up her own summer trip that she might procure her the tasteful dress to which she justly felt that she owed so much; for she knew it would spoil all Achsah 1 s pleasure in it if she should learn what denial it had cost her friend. Christie was glad that she had chosen as she did, for she had delighted in Achsah's success as io6 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. if it had been her own, and she knew she could not have enjoyed her own dress if her school- mate had had to make her appearance in the soiled and unbecoming silk or one of her school dresses. She still had enough of her fifty dollars remaining to enable her to carry out her charita- ble projects for some time to come, and she had already determined that a share should be appro- priated towards the happiness and comfort of the poor little German woman. It was Saturday afternoon, and one after an- other the girls had dropped in until all the mem- bers of the graduating class were gathered upon Mrs. Gilbert's porch, seated on the steps, in the hammock, and on every available perch. Commencement had been discussed so often that the girls were beginning to weary of the subject, and after a little desultory conversation the girls had relapsed into a silence that was only broken now and then by some ridiculous remark from Louise, who generally considered it her mis- sion to be amusing. "Let's be very truthful and have an open confession of our real feelings," suggested Grace, when Louise had rallied her upon her silence with the words, "A penny for your thoughts!" "Who can honestly and truthfully say that she is glad her school -days are over?" PLANS. I0; "Well, I will lead the way for the rest of you, and own up to the truth. I for one am sorry that our days at the dear old Institute are over," said Louise. "I used to think that I would be perfectly happy when I got for ever beyond the sound of Miss Giddings' r Young ladies, attention, if you please,' and had bidden an eternal farewell to my books; but I am ac- tually hankering after them again." "I feel all unsettled," said Ella Lindsay. "Commencement night it seemed a grand and inspiring thing to talk about beginning our voca- tion in life and leading noble lives that would enrich and bless the world; but somehow I don't see anything before me but just an aimless sort of drifting. I suppose I '11 do like all other girls I know of who have left school. I really did have some high ambitions about the time I was writing my essay, but I expect I shall be per- fectly contented to read novels, go to parties, and have as gay a time as possible and help mother a little between times." "It doesn't seem worth while to have spent so many years in preparing for a vocation, when that vocation seems to be principally that of being a butterfly," said Elsie Dunning. "We wont be any worse than any of our predecessors, if we are butterflies," said Florence io8 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. Dinsmore. "As long as I have been attending the Institute it has always been just the same way. Commencement night a set of girls have graduated who have written flowery essays in which they have glorified the mission of women, and done their best to convince you that they were a set of heroines just waiting to finish their education before they would develop into the most remarkable women that ever lived in the world. At the very least you would expect to find a few female philanthropists, missionaries, famous writers, or household angels among them ; but in a few weeks these aspiring souls have developed a great fondness for lawn tennis, or some other high and ennobling pursuit, that somehow got left un mentioned in their essays, and they all seem quite contented with a very matter-of-fact gay time. I suppose that is just what we will do, and we wont be any more friv- olous than our predecessors." "If we only worked together, and instead of taking quite such high objects at which to aim as we spoke of in our essays, were contented to live our class motto, I believe we would be of some use," said Christie. "Hear! Hear!" exclaimed Louise. "Chris- tie has enough of the Commencement spirit still left in her to believe that we needn't be abso- PLANS. 109 lutely frivolous. Proceed with your speech, Christie, and if you can show any just or reason- able cause for our being useful, we will begin at once." Christie laughed. Louise's nonsense never overpowered her as it did some of the others. "Well, I have a little plan that I would like to submit to the wisdom of the class," she pro- ceeded. "I think it would be nice for us to be united together in some sort of an informal so- ciety, so we needn't drift apart as the members of some of the other classes have; and we might have general usefulness for an object. Of course we cannot undertake any great piece of work. Though I would publicly stand up for the many and varied talents of the members of this class, and deny that anything was impossible to such united talent, still privately, in the bosom of the class, I must confess I don't think we'll any of us make a great stir in the world; and if we can be helpful in some modest way, it will be all we can do. If we all work together, I am sure we will find ever so many things to do that will make people happier for having known us, and we will be happy in doing them, for then we wont feel that our life is just an aimless drifting." "What could we do?" queried practical IIO CHRISTIE S NEXT THINGS. Elsie. "Have you thought of anything, or are your little things as elusive and shapeless as the great achievements of our essays seem to be?" " Yes, I was thinking of something we might begin to do at once," Christie replied, and she told them of the woman with the sick baby whom she had met upon the ferry-boat. "This morning mother and I went down to see her," she went on, as the girls listened to the pathetic little story with silent interest. "She lives in the basement of a miserable tene- ment house, in one front room that is hardly as large as this porch. The baby is six weeks old now, but. it is such a little puny mite you might think he was only a few days old. It is damp and stifling both in the room, if you can imagine such a combination, and the poor mother looks as sick as the baby. It is touching to see how fond she is of him, and she never seems to think of her own hardships in having to take him to the hospital so often in this hot weather, when most of the time she walks all the way to and from the ferry-boat for want of car- fare; but she just mourns over his suffering." "Can't the husband earn anything?" asked Elsie. " He has been at work again this last week," Christie answered, "but she told us that about PLANS. Ill two months ago he hurt his hand and hasn't been able to do anything until just now. They had no money except his daily earnings, so of course they got in debt, and it is hard for them to buy even the plainest food, while they have back rent and grocery bills to pay. The poor baby has scarcely any clothes at all, and the mother isn't much better off." "Will the baby always be blind?" asked Grace. Christie shook her head. "No, the sight has left one eye entirely, but the other eye is almost well, and the doctor has told her that after the next week she need not bring it over to the hospital but once a month. He told her to try and get a ticket from some of the Fresh Air societies and go away into the country with it ; but she is a foreigner, and doesn't know how to go to work to ask for one, and I'm afraid she would be too late anyway, there are always so many applications on hand. Now don't you see my plan, girls? I came home full of it, and I should have called a class meeting very soon to talk it over, if you hadn't all happened in this afternoon." "I think I see it!" exclaimed Louise. "We are to be a sort of fairy godmother to that poor woman and her baby, and come to her relief with tea and blankets, or their equivalents." 112 CHRISTIES NEXT THINGS. "Oh, Louise, what a melting suggestion this hot afternoon!" exclaimed Christie reproachfully, wielding her large palm leaf with more energy, as if she imagined herself swathed in blankets and drinking hot tea. "Their equivalents, if you please, instead of the real articles. I thought we might make both of the poor things some clothes, and then per- haps my opinion of what this class could do was unbounded by possibility but the charming plan occurred to me that perJiaps it would be possible for us to give her a couple of weeks in the country with her baby." "I think that would be lovely, if we could only do it," exclaimed Florence enthusiasti- cally. "If! This class knows no such word as if," said Louise. "This class has no limits to its powers and capacities. It has but to will and accomplish. You are an unworthy member if you do not at once and for ever erase such an ignoble word." "Truly, I think we could accomplish it," said Elsie. "We could easily make the clothes, if the thermometer does not rise any higher, and I am sure we could pay her board somewhere in the country with a little self-denial. Some of us might have to restrict ourselves in soda water, PLANS. 113 to be sure," with a mischievous glance at Louise, who was known to squander all her pocket money through the summer months at the soda water fountain. "Or chocolate caramels," retorted that young lady in retaliation, for they were Elsie's pet in- dulgence. "Let us see what materials we can collect, and begin work as soon as possible," suggested Florence. "The weather is so oppressive that the sooner we can get their clothing ready and send them to some cool place, the greater would be the chances of the poor baby's life, I should think." ' ' Suppose we meet every morning for an hour or so, for it will be cooler then to work than later in the day," said Grace. "It will be such a bother to carry the work backward and forward that we had better leave it at one house, if any one is willing to take charge of it. I would offer our house, only it is so far out of the way that I know you would n't any of you want to come." "Our house is central," interposed Christie, "and mother said we could have any meetings here that we wanted to, and she would help us if we needed her." " She 's a brick !" remarked Louise, relapsing into her favorite slang, in which she tried to imi- ii4 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. tate her brother, who was a college boy and con- sequently delighted in expressing his meaning in as ambiguous a way as possible. "But, Christie, I thought you were going away very soon with your aunt," said Grace. " I have changed my mind and given up that trip," Christie answered quietly. She had so often spoken of her prospective pleasure that all the girls knew she had expected to be away the greater part of her summer, and though she had not mentioned the subject lately, none of them knew that she had given it up. "Oh, Christie Gilbert, aren't you dreadfully disappointed?" exclaimed Florence, who knew how eagerly Christie had looked forward to it. "What did you give it up for?" queried Louise. "No, I am not disappointed, at least not so very much," Christie replied in answer to the first question, "for I gave it up of my own ac- cord and had an equivalent in its place; but I wont tell you what I gave it up for, Louise. That 's a profound secret." "Well, I sha'n't attempt to guess," Louise responded. "I can't imagine any inducement strong enough to give up such a perfect trip as the one your aunt had planned. I 'm glad you are not going, however, for we'd miss you like PLANS. 115 everything, particularly if we are going to be so useful. We will want you for our pendulum to keep us running smoothly." 4 ' Thank you, ' ' laughed Christie. " It 's very flattering to be told that I am a necessary part of the class machinery, and I should probably be tempted to stay at home in any case after that speech." "Then, since your mother is willing, we may decide upon this house being the headquarters for our work," said Elsie. "This will be such a lovely place to sit and sew these warm mornings, for I believe there is always a breeze upon this porch if there isn't a breath stirring anywhere else. I wish we could get the things all made next week. It puts me in a perspiration to think of that stifling basement a day like this." "And you can't even begin to imagine how stifling it is unless you have seen it," Christie said, with a little shudder at the remembrance of the close room and the odors that came in through the window from the piles of rubbish in the street. " I should think we could easily make at least one change apiece for each of them," said Ella, " and then they could go away somewhere while we were making the rest. I 'in in a hurry to get them into the countrv." n6 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. "I wish they could come out here," said Florence. " Would n't it be nice !" agreed Christie. " I don't know whom we could get to board them though." "I don't either," Louise said. "I don't suppose we could think of engaging rooms at the hotel or any of the summer boarding-houses for them, and I don't know of any other place where we could get a room for them." "There wont be any trouble in finding a place somewhere," Grace interposed. "There are ever so many places where they take just such people at very low rates, so it does n't really matter if we can't have her here, though of course it would be much nicer. Well, I must be going home. It is agreed that we meet Monday morning at nine o'clock, with all the materials we can collect, and begin work. Is any one coming my way?" " I am," Florence answered, rising to her feet and brushing off the shower of pink and white petals that had drifted down upon her while she had been sitting upon the steps. "Monday morning, then, we'll have a class reunion, and turn ourselves into a Dorcas instead of a literary society." The other girls soon dispersed, and Christie PLANS. 1 1 7 went in to find her mother and acquaint her with the success of her plan for the poor woman's relief. u I knew the girls would like a piece of work of that kind," her mother said. U I think in about a week or ten days at most you will have the poor mother away from that stifling alley, and breathing the pure air somewhere. It will be the only thing that will save that poor baby's life, I am sure. Now, Christie, don't you want to take a walk with me ? I want to take some work out to Miss Abigail, and the sun is so low that I think we will find it very pleasant by the river." "That will be delightful," Christie assented eagerly, and in a few minutes the mother and daughter were on their way. The road wound along by the river, and the breeze which rippled the placid surface of the broad stream was very refreshing after the heat of the day. It was somewhat over a mile to their destina- tion, but the time passed away so pleasantly that the walk did not seem at all long, and they were soon at Miss Abigail's gate. n8 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. CHAPTERX. MISS ABIGAIL'S NEXTE. IT was a little old-fashioned rambling house before which Christie and her mother stopped, the low picket-fence overrun with vines, and the flower-beds before the windows looking as if they might have been planted in the time of our grandmothers, so quaint and "old timey " were the flowers. A little old lady sat by the window knitting, and the bright needles gleamed like silver as they flashed backward and forward in her nimble fin- gers, though her eyes were fixed upon the river and she scarcely seemed to heed what she was doing. As the latch of her gate was lifted the click broke in upon her reverie, and she sprang to her feet, while a look of welcome brightened her face. She was an active little woman, one to whom the New England epithet of "spry" would most aptly apply. She always reminded Christie of a little wren, her movements were so quick, and she had a birdlike fashion of poising her head on one side when she talked, her bright black eyes MISS ABIGAIL'S NEXTE. 119 fairly snapping with eagerness when she grew much interested in what she was saying. Miss Abigail was the last of a large family who had been born in the little brown house, and she could easily remember when the garden that was so quiet now had been filled with a troop of noisy and bonneted children who had played and frolicked together, as happy and unconscious of care as if they had been the fledglings in one of the nests that were hidden away beneath the eaves. One after another the quiet village of the dead had made room for them, and a short green mound had marked the ended child life, until at last only Miss Abigail and her youngest brother had been left with the father and mother in the home nest. There was a vein of waywardness in this youngest boy that grieved the parents, who had found all their other children dutiful and docile. It was as if a cuckoo's egg had been hatched in a dove's nest, and as the boy grew older there were scenes of contention in the quiet little house, and harsh words would pass between the father and the son, while the sorrowful mother would shed tears over the wayward boy who was so totally unlike all her other children. These quarrels had culminated one night in a i2o CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. bitter contention in which the boy had flung him- self out of the house, declaring that he would never enter it again as long as he lived. He had disappeared in the darkness, and no one had ever seen or heard of him again. Day after day the feeble old mother watched for some sign or word from her wandering boy, his mother's darling yet in spite of all his wrong-doing, for was he not her baby, the last to lie upon her heart in uncon- scious infancy, and to be cradled in her arms ! The old father passed away, leaving his for- giveness and blessing for the wanderer, and at last there came a day when the mother too knew that she could not wait for her boy's return. " You will never leave the old home, will you, Abby ?" she quavered pitifully, her fast dimming eyes fixed on her daughter in eager entreaty. "Promise me that Tim will always find his home here when he comes back, for I know he will come some day. He was always a good boy at heart, if he did anger his father. You will al- ways keep a light burning in the window for him and the door on the latch, wont you, Abby? Tell him I waited as long as I could for him and I always loved him to the last." "I'll be waiting for him when he comes, mother," Abby promised, and a look of content crossed the eaeer face. MISS ABIGAIL'S NEXTE. 121 "You wont forget? You'll always stay here?" asked the feeble voice again; and as once more the daughter promised, the dim old eyes closed to open upon the radiance of heaven, and Abigail was left alone in the home which had once been so full of young life. It seemed to her then like the deserted last year's nest swinging tenantless and desolate in the limb of the old apple-tree, and she wished that she might have gone with her mother. A less brave and joyous spirit might have grown gloomy, and self-pitying with such a lonely life, but by the time the green sod had stretched its velvety mantle over the newly-turned earth which marked the place where the mother was laid to rest beside her children, Miss Abigail had learned a lesson of sweet content. Her Christian life was an earnest, practical one, and she drew sweet lessons of trust in her Heavenly Father from her surroundings that might have been passed unheeded by careless eyes. The river with its broad sweep of blue was a never failing comforter, and even the little brown sparrows that hopped fearlessly about her, making friendly advances towards her, with their bright eyes fixed upon her half confidently, half curiously, chirped to her of the love and care which watched over even the feathered creation 122 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. so that not one sparrow could fall to the ground unheeded. It troubled her most to think that her life was not a more useful one, for it seemed to her that caring principally for her own needs was a selfish existence, and not what she was put into the world for. Many of her acquaintances would have borne witness to her kindness of heart and told of long vigils with the sick, of stitches taken for tired mothers, of many a little delicacy sent to tempt an invalid's capricious taste; but of these things Miss Abigail took no account " It 's only a pleasure," she would say, so cordially that no one could doubt her sincerity. She was expert in the use of her needle, as only those are who learned to sew before the days of machines had supplanted the daintily set stitch- es that were beautiful in their regularity and neatness, and she found no difficulty in getting plenty of sewing to do. She was always glad of visitors, for she was a sociable little body and delighted in a chat with any of her friends. She welcomed Mrs. Gilbert and Christie with hearty cordiality, slipping her knitting into the capacious pocket of her apron, while she came forward with outstretched hands. "Well, now, I am certainly glad to see you !" MISS ABIGAIL'S NEXTE. 123 she exclaimed. "Will you come in, or shall I bring chairs out here for you where you can look at the river while you sit? I'm so fond of it myself I always take it for granted that other folks must enjoy it too. It's great company to me lately, particularly now that I a' n't got much to do but look at it." "I'm glad to hear that you are not very busy just now," Mrs. Gilbert remarked, as they took the chairs that Miss Abigail placed for them. "I have a little sewing that I wanted you to do, and I was afraid that perhaps you might have so much on hand that I should have to wait for a while. It isn't very often that you are to be found without plenty of work. " "Bless your heart, it isn't for lack of work that I have nothing to do but look at the river," Miss Abigail exclaimed energetically. "I've work enough on hand for a month, but it 's my eyes. They seem to have clean given out en- tirely for anything like sewing, though I can pot- ter around and do other things well enough. I can knit without my eyes, so I don't really have to sit with my hands folded, and I'm thankful enough for that; but it's pretty hard to give my sewing up." "Indeed it must be hard," Mrs. Gilbert re- marked sympathizing!}'. "You are so fond of 124 CHRISTIE'S XEXT THINGS. sewing that it must be a real deprivation to have to lay it aside entirely. Your eyes will be better soon if you rest them, wont they?" "I'm in hopes they will," Miss Abigail an- swered. "I suppose it 's the Lord's way of teach- ing me a lesson of trust, for I can't quite see my way clear to getting along without my little earn- ings unless I begin to use the little I have laid up for a rainy day ; and I hate to do that. I suppose I must just believe he's able and willing to pro- vide for me without my making any provision for myself, any more than one of these little spar- rows, but it's human nature to feel more like trusting if you're doing something for yourself, and human nature 's mighty strong in me, 1 am finding out. I sha' n't really suffer for food, with what I 've got in my garden, but one don't know how to get on without a little money now and then." "'Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you,' " said Mrs. Gilbert. "Yes, I know," responded Miss Abigail, "and yet a' n't it strange! it seems as if I'd rather nurse my care and hold on to it and worry over it than just lay it on One who's willing and able to bear it all. Queer, what human nature is. I often wonder how the good Lord can keep his patience with us when we're so trying. Well, MISS ABIGAIL'S NEXTE. 125 the good Book says he knows the frailty of our frame and seeth we are but dust, and maybe he pities us for being such poor foolish creatures. Perhaps he has taken my work away to give me something else to do for him. I'll just try and bide patient for what he sends me next. If it will please him to send me something to do by which I can earn my living and at the same time be doing something for other folks, I'll be glad and happy. If he should mean that I'm just to sit with folded hands and not be of any good, why he '11 give me grace for that, though it will be the hardest work of my life. I '11 try and keep ready for my next work, \\ latever it may be." A sudden light flashed into Christie's face as she listened. "Miss Abigail," she asked, "would it be too much trouble to you to give me a glass of your nice spring water?" "No, indeed, child. Why, I ought to have thought of it myself," and hospitable Miss Abi- gail hurried away. "Mother!" exclaimed Christie eagerly, "I was so eager to ask you something that I could n't wait till we started home. I wonder if I can't put Miss Abigail in the way of the 'next' that she is waiting for. She has plenty of room in her house for company, and I wonder if she 126 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. would n't board that woman and her baby for us? Just think how lovely it would be to have them here by the river, with lots of fresh air and good wholesome food." Miss Abigail was pattering back with a glass brimming full of clear cold water, and Christie had to read her mother's approval of her plan in her face. " Miss Abigail, Christie has a plan to propose to you, I think," Mrs. Gilbert said, when Christie hesitated a little about beginning her project. So Christie went back to the meeting on the ferry- boat, and Miss Abigail listened with many an exclamation of pity. " Poor little soul !" she said pitifully. " If I was only able to earn a bit with my needle, now, I 'd love to make her bring that poor baby here and get a breath of good air." "That's just my plan, Miss Abigail," ex- claimed Christie eagerly. "We want to send them somewhere for a couple of weeks, and of course there are places for people that we could send them to, but we thought it would be so much nicer if they could be here where we could see them sometimes; and we couldn't think of any one who had room who would be willing to take them. Now I was just thinking what a beautiful place this would be for her, and if you MISS ABIGAIL'S NEXTE. 127 would only take her and let us pay you for liei whatever you thought right, it would be so nice. What do you say?"' "Why, that she's heartily welcome," an- swered Miss Abigail. " I 'd be far better pleased if I could see my way to doing for her without a cent of money in return; but the L/ord is pro- viding for me in this way at the same time he 's providing for her, so it a' n't right for me not to be thankful for his provision for me. Besides, I dare say I can find plenty of chances to do a hand's turn for her now and again, that I can feel I am doing for one of his little ones, even if I am paid for her keep. Yes, I'll be ready for her any day, Miss Christie, and the sooner the better for her. Do n't wait to get her clothes all ready, for she can have those after she gets here, and she ought to have her baby here this moment" "I will talk to the girls about it Monday morning, and then I will come out here in the afternoon and tell you when to expect her," Christie said, 'delighted at Miss Abigail's acquies- cence. "We will have to tell her about it first, so that her husband can make some arrangement to get his meals somewhere while she is gone ; and I am afraid we can hardly get her here before Wednesday or Thursday ; but I am eager to see her face when she finds out that she is to be here 128 CHRISTIE'S XEXT THINGS. with you, where she can look at this beautiful river. Oh, I am so glad you will take her, Miss Abigail! I don't know how to thank you enough." U I am the one to thank you, child," Miss Abigail answered. "I couldn't have chosen a bit of work for myself that would have pleased me as well as this, and I '11 be as happy as a queen again. Maybe I'll have faith enough to trust the Lord for what will come next when I can't quite see the way, for I 've had a chance to learn over and over again that he always plans for me better than I could for myself. I 'm sorry I can't do your sewing, Mrs. Gilbert, but you know how it is; I'm willing enough if only my eyes would let me." " I feel as you do, that the Lord is giving you other work just now," Mrs. Gilbert answered, "and I am so glad that you can give this poor woman a share of your peaceful home that I am quite willing to be disappointed about my sew- ing. I wish we could sit longer, Miss Abigail, the river is so beautiful in the sunset, but we must start homeward, or Mr. Gilbert will not know what has become of us. You will see Christie often enough now, I expect, to make up for the shortness of our visit. Good-by." (c Could anything be lovelier?" asked Christie MISS ABIGAIL'S NEXTE. 129 joyfully, as they turned tlieir steps towards home. "I don't think there is a place in the world where that poor little woman could be more kind- ly treated than Miss Abigail will treat her, and this lovely river view will make her forget to look so sad and desolate." "Perhaps Miss Abigail can teach her some of her own trustfulness," Mrs. Gilbert responded. u I always feel that I have learned something new when I have had a little talk with her, and we could all learn a lesson from her." "I wonder I did not think about the proba- bility of Miss Abigail's being able to take her be- fore," Christie said. "I couldn't think of any one who would be willing to take the trouble to care for a woman with a sick baby, unless, of course, we could pay a good deal of board for her, but Miss Abigail's is just the place. She will be glad to do it, more for the sake of the opportu- nity of doing good than for the money she can earn in that way. Now we must get that poor baby here as soon as possible." 130 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. CHAPTER XI. THE ARRIVAL. PROMPTLY at nine o'clock on Monday morn- ing the girls assembled at Mrs. Gilbert's, each one well laden with all that she had been able to collect for the poor woman. They were as delighted as Christie had been when they learned that Miss Abigail was willing to open her little home for the poor babe and its mother, and were anxious to get them out of the hot basement room as quickly as possible. When they opened their bundles and ex- hibited their contributions, they were delighted to find that a great deal was ready for immediate use. A dark calico wrapper which had been well worn and was somewhat faded, but still in good condition, needed only a few stitches to make it ready for use; and various articles of under apparel were laid aside with the wrapper. Grace Davenport had gone to a friend who had lost a little babe some time before, and the mother had selected several little garments which were plain enough to be suitable and serviceable and sent them for this little one. THE ARRIVAL. 131 "I believe \ve have enough already for them to wear out here," Elsie said. U I wonder if they could come to-morrow afternoon. If it is hot here on this shady porch, what must it be where they are!" "How can we get word to the woman?" asked Ella. "I should suggest that two of you girls should go in to see her this afternoon when it is cooler," Mrs. Gilbert said, from her seat at the window. "Perhaps she could come to- morrow if she knew about it to-night." The girls were very much pleased with this plan, and they decided that Elsie and Christie should go down in the afternoon train and make arrangements with the poor mother to come out as soon as possible with her babe. It was quite warm when Elsie and Christie started on their trip, but when they reached the street where the object of their expedition lived, they felt as if the noonday heat in Weston would be refreshing compared to this close stifling at- mosphere. Christie remembered the house, and led the way to the tall tenement that seemed dingier and more overcrowded than ever in comparison with the pretty houses of Weston and the broad elm- shadowed streets. 132 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. "What a dreadful place!" exclaimed Elsie with a shudder of disgust, as she followed Chris- tie down the stone steps. Christie opened the door that led into the dark narrow hall, and knocked at the first door. "Come," was the response, and she opened the door to see the pale little woman, who looked whiter and more fragile than ever, sitting in a chair by the window fanning the mite of a baby upon her knee with an old newspaper doubled up to serve as a fan. "Poor little thing!" said Elsie pityingly, as she looked at the wasted face and transparent tiny hands, that looked too waxen to belong to a living child. Christie had hard work to explain the pur- pose of her visit to the mother, and she and Elsie had to search for the simplest language and the most expressive gestures to convey their mean- ing. When at last it dawned upon her that she was to take her baby away from that hot, close room, where no breath of fresh air could possibly penetrate, she burst into a flood of joyful tears, and fairly overpowered the girls with her broken exclamations of gratitude. When they gave her the clothes they had brought her delight knew no bounds, and she seemed even more pleased with the soft garments THE ARRIVAL. 133 for the baby than with the clothes that she her- self needed so much. Everything about the room was scrupulously clean, poor and bare as it was, and the baby showed that he was carefully cared for as far as cleanliness went. ' ' He look pretty in new dress ? You no think so?" asked the mother proudly, as she held up the little slip, which, plain though it was, looked very dainty and pretty beside the coarse calico frock which was faded and well mended, besides being much too large for the tiny child. Before the girls came away they had arranged that the mother and babe should come out to Weston on the nine o'clock train, when Christie and Elsie would meet them with a carriage and take them to Miss Abigail's house. Christie thoughtfully left some money for travelling expenses, thinking that even that small sum might be an impossible one for the mother to procure upon such short notice. They found that the husband could stay with his sister on the next block during his wife's absence, and that he would be delighted to have the baby away in the country. "He loves very much the baby," the mother said. 134 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. It was drawing near the close of the after- noon when the girls reached Weston, and they were afraid it would be too late to go out and give Miss Abigail notice of the arrival of her expected guests upon the morrow. Much to their surprise and pleasure, Florence was waiting at the station with a wide phaeton. "I thought you would want to go out to Miss Abigail's to-night, though you didn't say any- thing about it this morning," she said, "so I came to meet you and can drive you out if you want to go. ' ' "That is splendid!" exclaimed Christie with a look of relief. "I wanted Miss Abigail to know all about it to-night, but I didn't see how we were ever going to walk out there and back before dark." "When are they coining?" asked Florence, as the girls seated themselves in the phaeton and the horse started briskly up the street. "To-morrow morning at nine o'clock," Elsie answered. "Oh, Florence, you ought to see that poor little baby; it isn't much larger than a good-sized doll, and so thin and wan looking. I am sure it couldn't have lived much longer in that wretched cellar. Why, I could hardly breathe while we were in it." "How it will thrive at Miss Abigail's!" said THE ARRIVAL. 135 Florence. "She will coddle it and nurse'it till it is a real fat country boy. I am so glad they are coming." Miss Abigail was delighted to hear of the speedy advent of her visitors. "Ready for them?" she echoed in response to Christie's question. "Why, I'm ready for them now. I got their room all fixed this morning, I was in such a hurry for them to come. Just step in and look at it, wont you? I was going to give her one of the up-stairs chambers, and then I thought just as like the poor little woman wouldn't feel like travelling up and down stairs half-a-dozen times a day, so I concluded I'd fix up the room for her that mother had after she took to her bed. It's a room I've always been meaning to take for my bedroom when I get too old and feeble to go up and down stairs. I 'd like it now, but it seems kind of shiftless to have a room down stairs as long as you 're able-bodied." While she had been talking she had been leading the way with swift, pattering footsteps, and now she ushered them into a square room that opened off the parlor. "Oh, if you could just see her home, Miss Abigail, you would know what a little bit of heaven this will seem like to her," exclaimed Elsie, as she glanced around the room. 136 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. "I'm glad you think it looks nice," said Miss Abigail with gratified pride. The floor was as white as years of scrubbing could make it, with bright braided mats laid here and there upon it. The high four-posted bed looked very inviting, with its neat patch- work quilt and the snowy sheets already turned down for the expected occupant. Feathery plumes of asparagus waved behind the looking- glass, and upon the walls were portraits of the children of the family, chubby unsmiling faces, as if they were awed at the thought of having their pictures taken. The article of furniture which delighted the girls most was an old-fashioned cradle that stood beside the bed, and they exclaimed over it, while Miss Abigail looked on with a smile that was a little tremulous, as if tears were not very far away. "We were all rocked in that," she said, touching the wooden rocker with her foot so it swayed backward and forward " every one of us brothers and sisters; and it seems strange to think it will be used again in this house. I can't tell you how it made me feel when I fetched it down from the garret." "Just imagine that poor little baby in this soft nest!" exclaimed Christie. "You will love him dearly when you see him, Miss Abigail, he THE ARRIVAL. 137 is such a mite; but he will soon get fat and strong here. ' ' The clock on the mantel rang out six strokes in as business-like and peremptory a way as if it had somehow caught some of Miss Abigail's briskness, and Florence looked up in surprise. "What, is it six o'clock already!" she ex- claimed. "Come, girls, we must hurry, or our mothers wont know what has become of us. Good-by, Miss Abigail. You'll soon see me again." Miss Abigail stood at the gate and looked after the happy girls with a smile on her face as she waved her hand to them in farewell. "Now a'n't it beautiful to see them about their Father's business!" she said to herself. "And they're happy in it too, as of course they should be, for it always brings a blessing. And isn't it a privilege, when you come to think it all out, that we're let to do anything for him, when he has all those angels to do his bidding? To think that when we are doing for that poor bit of a babe and its mother, we can say to ourselves those blessed words, ' Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me!, Wonderful! wonderful!" It would have been hard to tell whose antici- 138 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. pations that night were the more pleasurable, those of poor Christina Ehrich, as she hugged her wailing baby, while tears of gratitude rained down her pallid cheeks, or those of the girls who were looking forward to her coming. Miss Abigail too was in a state of excitement that was unusual with her, and she pattered in and out of the room a dozen times to see if she could not find something more to add to make the room more comfortable. She even ransacked the hidden treasures of an old chest in the garret, and produced in tri- umph a \vooden rattle for the baby guest's amusement. Miss Abigail smiled at her own folly the next day when she saw the tiny bird-like hands that were too feeble to close around the mother's ringer. But Miss Abigail had had long years in which to forget the tastes and capacities of even a lusty, vigorous six-weeks-old baby, and the rattle showed the strength of her good inten- tions if not of her judgment. All the girls were eager to see their protfgfes the next morning, but they managed to restrain their eagerness, lest it should embarrass the little mother. Christie and Elsie drove down to the station with a two-seated carriage to meet their guest, THE ARRIVAL. 139 and their faces were as eager with excitement as if they expected to meet a dear friend, when they heard the train whistling for the station. "Wont we be disappointed if she doesn't come!" said Elsie, as they hitched the horse and went around to the platform. "I don't believe there's much danger of that," Christie answered. If they had seen Mrs. Ehrich waiting impa- tiently in the station fully half aw hour before train-time, they would both have been quite sure that she would not fail them. There were not many passengers for Weston at that early hour in the morning, though the cars going the other way were crowded with gentle- men going to business. The second person to alight was Mrs. Ehrich, a brighter look on her face than Christie could have believed it possible for her to wear, with her baby tightly clasped in her arms. The girls gave her a warm welcome, and helped her into the carriage with her bundle, and the little party were soon driving rapidly along beside the river towards Miss Abigail's house. " Did you ever see any one look more delight- ed?" Elsie whispered, as she glanced back at the thin face that was gazing in rapt admiration at the river. 140 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. "Isn't it lovely to think we can have her here!" Christie returned. "And doesn't the baby look sweet in that little white slip and knitted shawl? If you could only have seen the coarse bit of burlap that she had him wrapped up in when I first saw them !" Miss Abigail was watching for her guests, and as soon as the carriage came around the curve of the road she ran down to the gate in a nutter of eager welcome. " Why,* you poor little mite, you a' n't bigger than a kitten, to be sure!" she exclaimed, as she held out her strong hands for the baby. " I do n't know who looks the sickest, the mother or the baby," she went on in an aside to Christie as Elsie lifted the small bundle out and helped the mother to alight. "They'll both look the better for your good care, Miss Abigail," Christie returned, touching the baby's wasted cheeks with caressing fingers, as she looked pityingly at the wan little face with its closed eyes. "I've got a nice breakfast waiting for her," Miss Abigail went on, leading the way into the house. "I did n't suppose she'd have much of a one before she started, and I knew the journey and the fresh air would be likely to give her an appetite anyhow. I'll just show her where the THE ARRIVAL. 141 cradle is, and then if she has a mind she can put him right down in it and come to the table. Is he sick or clean worn out, or do you s'pose he don't ever open his eyes?" "Oh, he opens his eyes sometimes," Christie explained. "He has lost the sight of one eye, the one that is lighter than the other, but he can open them both. He looks to me as if he was too tired to try to look around, though perhaps he is asleep. ' ' Miss Abigail carried the baby into the room she had prepared for her guests, and, apparently under the impression that a foreigner who could speak very little English must necessarily be somewhat deaf, and must be addressed in as bro- ken speech as possible, cried out in high-pitched tones, "Cradle for baby. You put him in and he rest. You come eat." The girls smiled at each other as they listened to Miss Abigail's shrill tones, but to the little German woman she only appeared to be an object of the most profound gratitude. When she saw the little cradle, with its soft white sheets and tiny pillow, she seized Miss Abigail's disengaged hand and kissed it again and again in an out- burst of gratitude that embarrassed the good woman, who was not used to such demonstrations. 142 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. "There, there, never mind!" she exclaimed, trying to withdraw her hand from the eager grasp. " You just take your baby now, and don't mind me. Bless your heart, I a' n't doing anything but what's a pleasure to do." The mother took the baby from Miss Abigail, with another outburst of broken thanks, and lay- ing aside the knitted shawl and tiny cap, put him in the soft white nest. The little sheets and other appurtenances of the cradle had been packed away with sprigs of lavender, and as the baby nestled into the soft pillow a subtle fragrance arose. ' ' I wish you would stay and let me give you something to eat too," Miss Abigail said, as she left Mrs. Ehrich to take off her bonnet, and fol- lowed the girls out into the hall. "The table looks very inviting, Miss Abi- gail," Christie said, "but we must start home now. The girls are sewing at our house, and they will be anxious to hear how the baby got here and all about it." The table did indeed look very inviting, with its bright red cloth and the old-fashioned blue china set upon it. The kettle was singing on the wood fire which Miss Abigail had just kindled, and a plate of fresh-laid eggs were ready to be cooked as soon as the water should boil. The THE ARRIVAL. 143 loaf of home-made bread looked deliciously crisp and brown, and the girls could fancy how good everything would taste, eaten in that scrupu- lously clean, airy kitchen, where one could feast her eyes upon the river all the time. Bidding Miss Abigail good-by they drove away, carrying with them a pleasant memory of the delighted smile upon the thin, wan face of the mother framed in by the vine- wreathed win- dow. 144 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. CHAPTER XII. REST. As soon as the girls had driven away Miss Abigail bustled about, upon hospitable thoughts intent, and soon had the guest seated at the table, enjoying the meal she had prepared for her. It was as acceptable as Miss Abigail had thought, for in the excitement of getting started Mrs. Ehrich had scarcely broken her fast, and in truth there had been little enough to eat in the almost empty cupboard. The cup of fragrant tea and its accompaniments were an unusual luxury, and, much to Miss Abigail's alarm, Mrs. Ehrich acted as if she were about to again embrace the hand that was ministering to her wants, and Miss Abigail flew about in a more wren-like fashion than ever, that she might be out of the way of danger. Mrs. Ehrich perceived at last that her hostess did not understand the way in which she relieved her overcharged heart, and she refrained from all manifestations of gratitude except broken words of thanks. After she had concluded her meal she wanted to help Miss Abigail wash the breakfast things REST. I 45 and clear the table, but the good woman would not hear of this. In her eyes her guest looked only fit for bed, she was so thin and feeble. Re- turning to her high-pitched tones, she said to her, with emphatic gestures and very distinct utter- ance, " You sit in chair. You rest. I can do this." Mrs. Ehrich yielded, and sat in the broad, low, rush-bottomed rocking-chair upon the cosey porch, letting her eyes rest upon the tranquil river and listening to the song of the birds, who had nested in those same trees for years and felt as much at home about the little brown house as did Miss Abigail herself. At last the baby stirred uneasily in his fra- grant couch, and the mother's ear heard the little feeble wail. She brought him out on the porch and sat and rocked him there, while he had his meal too, and Miss Abigail, pattering about her work, stopped every now and then to glance out at the pair with a look of supreme content. "I declare to goodness he looks better al- ready," she said, as the eyes unclosed and the baby seemed to be enjoying the cool breeze as much as his mother. "He like it very much," the mother said, as she caught Miss Abigail's glance, and with a swift gesture she indicated the river, the sky, the Christie 1 " Next Things. IO 146 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. trees, and the roses that nodded at them from the porch-rail. "I dare say, poor little fellow," answered Miss Abigail, forgetting her shrill tones and speaking in a more natural voice than Mrs. Eh- rich had heard her use before. Through the rest of the morning the mother sat there, content to rest and drink in the beauty around her, while the peacefulness of the scene stole into her heart. Meantime the girls stitched busily away, de- lighted with the account which Christie and Elsie gave them of the woman's gratitude at her recep- tion by Miss Abigail. "I can just imagine Miss Abby's face when she found her hand being kissed," laughed Louise. "I dare say she set it down as one of the 'play acting' ways of foreigners, but she is so sorry for this poor woman that I don't think she will lay it up against her." % "I am in a hurry to see the baby," Grace said, as she took the last stitches in a little slip of flowered print. u I think we might go out there this afternoon, and take some more of the clothes as an excuse for going, if we feel as if we needed one for overrunning Miss Abigail." "We will any of us be quite welcome, I can assure you," Christie said. "Miss Abigail is REST. 147 one of the most hospitable souls in the world, and always enjoys company; besides she knows we all feel a sense of proprietorship in her guests." "How much are we to pay every week for this woman's board?" asked Ella. "Well, it 's so little that I feel as if we were imposing upon Miss Abigail's goodness of heart in letting her take so much trouble for so small a return," Christie answered; "but you know she is very set in her way, and she named a price that she said would cover all her extra expenses and let her make a little besides, and she wouldn't hear of taking a cent more." "How much is it? three dollars?" asked Florence. " No, only two," Christie answered; and as the girls exclaimed in surprise she added apolo- getically, " I should feel better if we were paying a little more, but she wont let us.' There is one good thing, we can certainly keep the baby there all through the hot weather if Mrs. Ehrich can stay away from home so long. It would be so nice if they could both go home looking real strong and well." "We can certainly afford to give them the opportunity, at that rate," Grace said. " Christie, you shall be our treasurer, and we will divide the amount up among us, and each pay our share to 148 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. you every week. I am going to give you this now, for I am sure after I break it I shall not be able to keep it very long, and I may be out of funds for a while when this is gone." She took a crisp two-dollar note from her purse and gave it to Christie, and the others began to search in their pockets for their porte- monnaies, that the first payment for Mrs. Eh- rich's board might be made at once. When it was time to disperse, Louise lingered behind, to help Christie put away the work and carry it to a disused closet up stairs which had been set apart for that purpose. She did not seem in any hurry to take her de- parture, so Christie took her into her own room, and made her comfortable in the rocking-chair while she dusted and did some little tasks she had not had time to do earlier in the morning, on account of her drive to Miss Abigail's house. Louise seemed to be in a restless frame of mind and body alike, and she chatted on in such a desultory way that Christie could not fail to notice her preoccupation. " What are you thinking about, Louise ?" she asked at last, with a merry laugh, when her com- panion had replied absently, "I guess so," to an inquiry Christie had made concerning a birthday party which it was rumored was to be given soon. REST. 149 "Well, I'm rather upset in my mind over a letter I got last night," Louise answered. " Christie, I am going to ask you a question, and of course you needn't answer it if you would rather not, but I am not asking just from idle curiosity. Would you mind telling me why you gave up your trip ? Was it for some greater pleasure that you expected to have in some way yourself, or to give some one else pleasure? I want to know because I think your decision will help me about something." Christie flushed. "I don't like to tell you, Louise, just exactly why I did it, because it is somebody else's secret, else I would; and I don't like to say it was to give some one else pleasure, because that sounds so conceited, but that was the first reason. It seemed to be the ' nexte thynge ' that came in my way, and I found that by giving up my trip I could give some one else a great deal more hap- piness than the trip would give me. Just at the very first it seemed rather a sacrifice, but I am sure that ever since I have enjoyed the other use that I made of the money far more than if I had spent it as I at first intended." "I wish I wasn't selfish," Louise sighed, " or else that I had n't any conscience to bother me when I want to put my own happiness first; 150 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. I would have a great deal better time then than I do now. Do you ever half wish you were n't a church member, Christie?" "Why, Louise, what a question !" and Chris- tie looked at her visitor in surprise. "Why, no. I do feel sometimes as if it were a very great responsibility, and I have times of worrying lest my inconsistencies may be keeping some one else away; but I am never sorry. I could n't be." "I'm not sure that I ever ought to have united with the church," Louise said thought- fully. "I don't feel as you do; and yet we united at the same communion, and I can re- member how happy I was that day. I thought living would be such a grand thing after that; and it 's just the same routine of petty, trying things that it always was, and there never are any opportunities for anything but just common- places. I'm disappointed. I suppose the fault is in myself somewhere." "Don't you think you are disappointed be- cause you expect something more than just the ordinary events of life?" asked Christie. "I have had my times of being dreadfully discon- tented, and because I could n't be somebody great and wonderful, it did n't seem worth while to live at all except just for my own pleasure. Dear Aunt Patience used to help me very much, and I REST. 151 don't think I shall ever forget that last talk we had. It will always be an inspiration to me. She explained to me that probably no great opportunities would ever come to me, and that I could do a great deal in the way of usefulness and help to others by the simple ministry of ' nexte thynges.' I really believe it is harder to do just these little bits of things than great deeds. If one has an opportunity to do some heroic deed, there is a sort of inspiration about it that makes it easier to do; but these little things that come to one in the day's routine aren't apt to be at all inspiring; and unless you think of them as ser- vice for Christ, just as much as great things, since they are what he has appointed for us, it is a burden to do them instead of a joy." "But do you really feel as if these little things counted?" asked Louise. " Yes, at last I have come to being contented with them, and trying to do each one with all my heart," Christie answered. "I'll give you one instance of what my little things are sometimes, though I expect you will laugh at me. I hate to dust, and when I am down in the parlor with my duster I am always tempted to slight out-of-the- way things. The dust always gathers on the piano legs that stand nearest to the wall, and I used to slight them almost every day because 152 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. they were out of sight and I knew no one would know whether I dusted them or not. I know it seems foolish to think that it is really a matter of right and wrong whether I dust them or not, but I really believe it is. It is one of the little trivial duties that are part of my day's work, and it is appointed just as much as if it was some- thing heroic instead of one of the most common- place things in the world. If I really believe that is something that has been appointed for me, I would not be willing to slight it. I have found real pleasure in thoroughly dusting all the out-of- the-way corners since I have believed that it was the 'nexte thynge' that came to my hand just then." "I would rather do something that looked larger than these hateful little things, though," Louise said. "I would too," confessed Christie. "But if God hasn't planned great things for us, which is better for us to do the work he has appointed, even if it isn't quite to our liking, or not to do anything? I have found out something else in my discouraged times, Louise. I found that I couldn't, of myself, keep the warm love that I had in my heart at first; I have to keep constant- ly asking for love, or I should grow cold and indifferent very soon. It is strange that we can't REST. 153 do such a natural thing as love in return for all that has been done for us without help; but I find that I can't, and perhaps others are the same. I am like the Israelites in the wilderness: I can't lay up a store of love and help that will last me for days ahead. If I don't ask every day for strength for the day's needs, I find that my supply fails utterly. I copied some lines, that Aunt Patience pointed out to me, into my com- monplace book. Would you like to hear them, or do n't you like poetry ?" "Did you ever know a schoolgirl who didn't like poetry?" asked Louise, a smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. "Yes, do read it to me." Christie opened her commonplace book, into which were copied many of her favorite passages, and read, " ' Not on the mountain-tops the manna fell, Caressed by cloudlets, by the sunlight kissed, So near to heaven that the stern gray peaks Melted away in tender amethyst ; " ' Nay, not upon these silent mist-crowned heights, So far above the hungering multitude That they could only view with longing eyes The promised bread of life, the angels' food; " ' Nor chaliced in the rocky clefts was stored The daily manna, where the weary feet Must scale the heights till flesh and spirit failed And sank exhausted in the noonday heat. 154 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. " ' Not so came down from heaven the daily food, But scattered 'midst the desert's shining sands, Where each could freely gather for his needs, And e'en a child could rill its little hands. " ' With each day's journey came the daily bread, Strengthening and nourishing with angels' food The weary people ever marching on Into the desert's dreary solitude. " ' E'en so I think the manna falls to-day, Scattered among the duties small that lie Like desert sands before our feet each day, For hourly needs a bountiful supply. " ' Not on the peaceful heights sublime 'and fair That tower above the plain of daily need, Nor hidden like wild honey in the clefts, Gained only by some brave and toilsome deed. " ' O hungering soul, stretch forth thine empty hand ; For each day's trials God gives daily grace, 'Tis always close at hand, then trust his love, And let distrust to sweet content give place.' '"I think this expresses what I want to tell you, and what I have found out in my own expe- rience. Our strength is just like the manna; we have to gather it every day, or it fails us." "I have an opportunity to be self-sacrificing in a very ordinary, commonplace way," said Louise, drawing a letter from her pocket. "I suppose if it was something that would be sounded abroad with a trumpet, I should be quite willing to do it; but as nobody will give me any credit for it, or, even if they know of it, think REST. 155 that I have done anything but my duty, I just feel disposed to hush my conscience up and con- sult only my own happiness." "I don't believe you would consult your happiness by hushing up your conscience as you threaten to do," said Christie, smiling. U I may as well tell you what it is, since I am making you my mother confessor this morn- ing," said Louise. "Aunt Belle has taken a cottage at the beach this summer, and in this letter she says she has room for just one more, although she is pretty well crowded already. She wants me to come and spend two or three weeks with her, and tells what fun the girls are having; then, just as an afterthought, she tucks in this little sentence, which has quite spoiled the delight with which I read the invitation: 'I do wish your poor mother could get away for a little rest this summer, but I suppose that it's quite out of the question.' Of course mother would think it was wholly out of the question. She hasn't had a vacation in ten years, to my certain knowledge, and sometimes I look at her in perfect wonder when she goes on so patiently, as if she never cared for anything better than looking after the house, taking care of us, and walking after Kitty, who is the most stupid and vexatious girl that ever lived. It's one of the 156 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. penalties of being poor and having a large family that you can't have decently trained help. It's my cross that either some one of the family has to keep jumping up from the table to bring forgotten articles, or else Kitty will appear with her sleeves rolled up, a smudge of soot on her nose, and a general air of preoccupa- tion and soap-suds about her." "Poor Louise!" said Christie, laughing as Louise wrought herself up to this climax in mock despair. "Now, if I wanted to, which I pause here to say I emphatically dorit" Louise continued, "I could take charge of the house, and make mother go to Aunt Belle's for a couple of weeks at least for a rest; and I know she'd enjoy it immensely, and so would Aunt Belle; but I can't make up my mind to undertake such a dreadful responsibility, and in this hot weather too. Of course I know it's just as hot for mother as it is for me; but when people are always patient and cheerful, and never think of mentioning that they have any feelings except those of gratitude that they are permitted to wear themselves out for their numerous family, one is apt to take it for granted that they don't particularly mind things which are uncomfortable. Of course it's a shame, and if I had a scrap of decent daugh- REST. 157 terly affection I'd bundle mother off before she had time to realize what was going on. I do love her best of any one in the world, but my selfishness prevents me from showing it, you see. Do you suppose it's my 'nexte thynge' to do this, Christie Gilbert?" "I don't want to give you disagreeable ad- vice," said Christie, "but " "Oh, yes, I knew you'd think I ought to," interrupted Louise in despair. "Disagreeable things are always the things that ought to be done. I suppose I'd never do anything that I wanted to or that was pleasant, if I did as I ought. I hate that word ought. Well, now that I am all upset over it, and have at the bottom of my heart the profound conviction that I shall be a selfish pig if I go myself, and let poor mother stay at home and have all the hard times without even the little help I give her, I sup- pose I may as well make up my mind to do as I ought; but I don't feel any nice little glow of self-approval over it. I just feel as if it was a part of my usual selfishness. I don't want to go, because my conscience will bother me all the time if I do, and so I do the least disagreeable thing and stay at home." "I wont let you abuse yourself that way," Christie interposed. "It will be lovely and gen- 158 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. erous in you to stay at home; and I do think that, after the first disappointment is over, you will be happy in thinking that your mother is having a rest and change. When you see how happy it will make her just to think of going, you will feel repaid right away." "Well, I will try and work myself up into such an enthusiastic state on my way home that she will think the greatest pleasure of my life will be in getting rid of her for a couple of weeks," said Louise, rising to go reluctantly, for she loved to linger in Christie's blue nest of a room, where everything was so quiet and cool and meddlesome little fingers never left their traces. "Christie, I wish I was you," she said im- pulsively, putting her arms around her friend. " It always seems so easy for you to do just right, and you are in earnest with your religion with- out being priggy and disagreeable. I always feel as if I was in a clearer atmosphere when I'm with you, and you make me disgusted with my own selfish ways. Good-by, dear. If mother goes, you must come and comfort me some- times." "We'll all come and help you," Christie returned, as she went down to the gate with her friend. REST. 159 "It will be cooperative housekeeping in good earnest then," laughed Louise. " Well, I '11 be- gin at once to get intensely enthusiastic, if the thermometer will permit me, and I'll convince mother that go she must. If I don't have the approval of my conscience afterward, I shall lay it up against you, Christie, for giving me bad advice, instead of encouraging me to do my own way and have a good time." " You mustn't give me the credit of your de- cision," Christie rejoined. "You decided your- self, and deserve every bit of the praise. I am not afraid that you will regret it. Good-by." "Good-by," Louise answered, and putting up her parasol she started homeward, trying to think only of the pleasure which the patient, tired mother would feel at the prospect of a holiday. 160 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. CHAPTER XIII. ACHSAH. CHRISTIE heard frequently from Achsah dur- ing the weeks that followed Commencement night, happy letters full of the pleasant times she was having, of the satisfaction of Mrs. Eshle- man with her young teacher, and of the affec- tion existing between her and her little charge. The last of these letters had brought a little shadow to Christie's face, and Saturday after- noon she read it over again, with a vague im- pulse beginning to take shape in her mind. There had been a little of the old-time defiance in the spirit of this letter; Achsah had written bitterly of the trials that had been sent to her, and spoken as if her present happiness was the result of her own energy and ambition and Christie's timely assistance. There was no ac- knowledgment of the love which had guided her steps even when she thought herself most alone, and which had led her into pleasant paths. "I feel as if my life was in my own hands now," she wrote, "and I can make of it what I ACHSAH. l6l will in spite of circumstances. My ambition to make a success of my life is the strongest part of me, and I am determined that I will. I begin to feel that I have capabilities, and that if I work hard, I may. have great possibilities before me; and I hope that some day, Christie dear, you may have reason to be proud of the friend who was so utterly discouraged and desolate when you came to her with your friendship." Christie realized sadly that Achsah had left God out of account, and was glorying in the fact that she had determined to live her life without him. Two short poems, cut from magazines and signed A. H. H., were inclosed in the letter, and as Christie read them she wondered that her schoolmates had never realized until Commence- ment night how gifted Achsah was. "If her talents were only consecrated, there would be so much that she might do," she thought wistfully. "I wish I could share my feelings with her. I don't think she believes people are ever in earnest in what they profess; and she sees all the failur.es and inconsistencies of professing Christians, without knowing any- thing about the times when they conquer them- selves. I suppose some of my sins are helping her to keep away from Christ. I wish I could Christie's Next Thlng. I I 162 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. tell her how sorry I am, and how much I wish that she would become a Christian." It was very hard for Christie to speak even to those whom she loved best, and who she knew were in sympathy with her, about religious mat- ters, and although she was not afraid of angering Achsah, as she knew others had done by speak- ing to her of her soul, yet she shrank from it with all a girl's shyness. Two or three times she had heard Achsah speak with indignation of the "meddlesome interference," as she termed it, of those who had spoken to her about uniting with the church at a time when many of her class- mates were publicly professing Christ. "They wouldn't lift their little finger to do anything for me, and yet they presume to meddle with my personal affairs," she had said hotly. Christie felt sure that if she could bring her- self to write to Achsah of the desire with which her heart was overflowing to-day, she would not look upon it as interference, for she knew Chris- tie was sincerely her friend, and would do, as she had already done, a great deal for her happiness ; but would it do any good? It would cost a great effort on her part, but she was quite willing to make it, if only she could feel sure that it would result in the good she wanted to accomplish. Would it draw Ach- ACHSAH. 163 sah any nearer to the Saviour she herself loved so dearly, if she should open to her the inner chamber of her heart? She pondered the question long and earnest- ly. She felt a strange yearning, which she dared .not leave unheeded, to plead with her friend and urge her to go to Jesus for that peace and joy which no gratification of ambition could bring to her proud, restless spirit ; and yet she was so fearful of failure that she dreaded to make the attempt. Was this another "nexte thynge," one of the little duties that God had placed in her path? "Moment by moment, Let down from heaven, Time, opportunity, Guidance, are given." Perhaps this was just the time at which she might influence Achsah, and this strong desire was to be her guidance in the path of duty. She opened her secretary and drew out paper, pen, and ink, then she sat for a time lost in thought. How could she word her note so that Achsah would understand the humility and love with which she wrote it, not as one who felt herself better than another, but just as a very human, erring girl, who wanted her friend to share the strength and help whith she had found for herself? 164 CHRISTIE'S NEXT THINGS. A swift prayer for help and guidance went up from the depths of her heart, and then she took up her pen and wrote, just as she would have spoken, timidly and lovingly. Achsah's eyes could not rest upon the lines without knowing what an effort they had cost, and yet surely the love that prompted the words would win them some consideration. It was an earnest appeal, but as Christie read it over her eyes filled with tears of disappoint- ment. How little she had said after all, and how empty her words were ! Surely it would be worse than useless to send the letter, unless God's blessing should go with it and he should use the feeble words to his glory. Throwing herself upon her knees by her bed- side, she spread the letter out before the I