Chapter III: Little Ellie's Sister

THE next week there were more clothes to be taken home to Mrs. Douglas's. It was not a heavy load this time, and little Angel went alone. She was passing under one of the bow windows on her way to the passage leading to the kitchen door, when she heard a loud tapping on the pane. She looked up, and there was little Ellie nodding to her, and kissing her hand, and holding up the new doll for her to see.

And when cook opened the kitchen door, and Angel came in with the clothes, little Ellie was just coming in at the other door.

"Please, cook," said the child, "Mabel wants to see the little Angel."

"Bless us!" said cook, laughing. "I'd clean forgot about the child's name. I couldn't think what angel it was at first. You take her, Miss Ellie."

"Please, come," said the little girl; and she held out her tiny hand for Angel to take.

Little Angel had never seen such a beautiful house. They went up a long easy staircase, very different from the one Angel climbed at night when she went to bed. They passed a splendid window, with pretty coloured glass in it, which threw all sorts of lovely colours on the stairs. And the carpet was so soft that Angel could not hear the sound of her own feet.

At the top of the staircase was a long passage, with doors at both sides of it. Ellie opened one of these, and led Angel into a pretty little sitting-room. A bright fire was burning in the grate, and by the side of the fire was a sofa. On this sofa Angel saw a young lady lying, with a very sweet and gentle face. She looked very ill and tired, Angel thought, and had such a kind face that she could not feel afraid of her.

"This is the little Angel, Mabel," said little Ellie, as she took her by the hand to her sister's couch.

"Bring a stool for her to sit on, Ellie. I'm very glad to see you, little Angel."

"Yes; but, Mabel, cook says she hasn't any wings, and she doesn't think she lives in heaven. She says it's only her name."

"Yes," said her sister; "I understand. But some day, I hope she will live in heaven. Do you think you will, little Angel?"

"I hope so, please, ma'am," said Angel.

"But, if you are ever to live in heaven with the Lord Jesus, you must learn to love Him now," said the young lady.

"Is that the door He knocks at?" said Angel, starting from her seat, as a sudden thought seized her.

"What do you mean, little Angel?"

"The door with the great pillars on each side of it, and the brass bell and knocker; is it there He knocks every night?"

"I don't quite understand what you mean," said Mabel gently. "Can you tell me a little more about it?"

"My mother read it in the Bible last night, and it said He knocked at a door and wanted to come in, and mother said she didn't think it meant our door."

"Is this what you mean?" said the young lady. She took up a little Bible which lay beside her, and read aloud: "'Behold, I stand at the door, and knock.'"

"Yes, that's it," said Angel; "and my mother said she had clean forgot what it meant; but she thought it meant Jesus."

"Yes; your mother was quite right, little Angel; it is Jesus who is knocking at the door."

"Then it is this door with the pillars," said the child.

"No, not this door," said the young lady; "it means a door that belongs to you, little Angel. It is not a door that you can see or touch; it is the door of little Angel's heart. Jesus calls it a door, to show you what He means. He wants to come into your heart. He wants you to love Him, and to give your own little self to Him. This is what it means, little Angel."

The child looked as if she did not quite understand.

"Do you love your mother, little Angel?" asked the young lady.

"Oh yes, please, ma'am; very much."

"Then your mother is inside your heart. You love her with your heart, don't you?"

"Oh yes, please, ma'am; she does everything for me, does mother."

"But Jesus loves you better than your mother does; and He has done a great deal more for you than she has."

"Has He?" said little Angel simply.

"Yes, indeed He has. Do you know, He lived in heaven, where everything is beautiful and happy, and He left His home there and came to live down here. He lived a very sorrowful life. He was a poor man, little Angel. He had no home of His own, but went about from place to place, often very tired, and hungry, and faint. And people were very unkind to Him; they laughed at Him and hated Him, and threw stones at Him, and hunted Him from place to place; and at last, little Angel, He was nailed on a cross of wood, and they put a crown of thorns on His head."

"Oh yes, please, ma'am; mother has a picture of that. Jesus is on a cross, and some soldiers laughing at Him; it's in a book on the drawers-top that my father bought at a sale."

"Yes," said the young lady; "that was how He died; oh, such a cruel, painful death! And, little Angel, it was all for you!"

"All for me!" said the child.

"Yes, little Angel, all for you. For, if Jesus had not died, you could never, never have gone to heaven. Shall I tell you why?"

"Yes, please, ma'am," said the child.

"You could never have gone to heaven, because no one can go there who has done any wrong; only good and holy people can go there; all who have done anything wrong must be punished for it. And, little Angel, have you ever done anything wrong?"

"Yes," said little Angel, hanging down her head; "yes, please, ma'am, I have."

"Then you could never go to heaven, for God must punish sin. But Jesus is God, and He came and led that sorrowful life, and then died that dreadful death, that He might be punished instead of you—instead of you, little Angel. And now He says, 'I wonder if little Angel will love Me for dying for her? I will knock at the door of her heart, and see if she will let Me in, and love Me for what I have done for her, and be My little child!'"

Angel opened her eyes very wide, and looked earnestly at the young lady as she spoke.

"How old are you, little Angel?" she asked.

"Going on seven, ma'am," said Angel promptly.

"Then He has been waiting for you for years. Knocking—knocking, and you have never let Him in!"

"That's a long time!" said Angel.

"Yes; and still He does not give up knocking. He is waiting still; waiting for you to love Him; waiting for you to let Him in."

"He must be very tired," said Angel; "I wish I knew how to let Him in."

The young lady did not answer at once; she covered her face with her hand for a minute, and was quite still.

Then she said, "Little Angel, I have been praying to Him to help me to show you how to let Him into your heart. But I think, after all, the best way will be for you to ask Him yourself. Will you ask Him now?"

"I don't know how," said Angel; "I don't know what to say."

"When you pray, little Angel, you should talk to Jesus just as you are talking to me, and ask for just what you want. Kneel down by me, and I will help you."

Little Ellie, who had been listening in silence all this time, knelt down too, whilst her sister prayed.

"O Lord Jesus, show little Angel how to open the door of her heart to Thee! Grant that she may let Thee in, and not keep Thee waiting any longer. Oh, may she indeed be saved by Thee, and love Thee with all her heart, for all that Thou hast done for her! Amen."

"And now, little Angel," said Mabel, when the children rose from their knees, "when you get home you must ask Him yourself, and remember He ever listens to every word that you say."

Angel had a great deal to think of as she walked home that morning with her empty basket. She was very quiet all day as she was looking after the children and turning the mangle—so quiet that her mother asked her if she were ill. But Angel said, No, she was quite well, and turned the mangle quietly again. But when the other children were in bed, and she and her mother were alone, Angel said:

"Mother, do you know how old you are?"

"Dear me, let me see," said her mother. "I was just nineteen when I got married to your father. I know I was just nineteen then, because I remember my old aunt said, 'You're young enough, my lass, not twenty yet. You'd better not be in a hurry.' Well, I was nineteen then, and, let me see, I believe we've been married eight years next month. Nineteen and eight, what's that? Count it on your fingers, Angel."

"Twenty-seven, mother," said little Angel, when she had carefully counted it twice over. "Twenty-seven years old! Then Jesus has been knocking at your door twenty-seven years! What a long time!"

"Oh, you're after that again, are you?" said her mother. "I wish I could remember what it means."

"Miss Douglas told me," said Angel; and she repeated, as well as she could, the conversation in the little sitting-room.

"Well, to be sure," said the mother, "it's very wonderful to think He waits so long; I'm afraid I've been very bad to Him."

"Won't you let Him in to-night, mother?"

"Oh, child! I'm too busy," she said; "there's so much to do. There's the children, and your father, and the mangle to look after, and always dinner to cook, and things to clear away, and such lots of clothes to wash, and your father's shirts to iron. I've no time to be good, Angel."

"But Miss Douglas said if you don't let Him into your heart and love Him, you won't ever live with Him and the angels in heaven."

"Ah, well!" said the mother. "I suppose not; but there's lots of time yet. When baby gets a bit older, and Tom goes to school, I shall have a bit more time; and then, Angel, I can sit still a bit and think about it."

"Only, perhaps, as He's been knocking twenty-seven years," said Angel, "it's such a very long time, He may get tired of waiting, and walk away."

"Oh no! I hope not," said her mother; and she got up and bustled about the room, and sent Angel off to bed. She hoped the child would forget about it before morning.

But when she went upstairs, after a few minutes, to see if Angel was in bed, she found her kneeling in her nightgown before the window. There was no light in the room, but the blind was up, and the moonlight was streaming on the child's fair hair and clasped hands.

"She looks like one of the little angels in heaven," said the mother to herself.

Angel had not heard her mother come upstairs, so Mrs. Blyth stood quietly on the last step, and listened to Angel's little prayer.

"Oh, Jesus, please come in to-night! Oh it was very bad to keep You outside when You did all that for me! Oh, Jesus, please don't knock any longer, but just walk into my heart, and please never go away again? Amen."

And then Angel crept into bed, and her mother wiped her eyes, and came in and kissed her.