Chapter V: Angel's Birthday

IT was a bright, sunny morning, some weeks after that little service was held in Pleasant Place.

The sunbeams were streaming in at Mrs. Blyth's window, for the cobwebs and spiders had some time ago received notice to quit, and the dust had all been cleared away, and found no chance of returning.

Mrs. Blyth was a different woman. Her troubles and trials remained, and she had just as much to do, and just as many children to look after, but she herself was quite different. She had opened the door of her heart, and the Lord Jesus had come in. And He had brought sunshine with Him into that dark and ignorant heart. Life, instead of being a burden and a weariness, was now full of interest to Mrs. Blyth, because she was trying to do every little thing to please Jesus, who had done so much for her. Whether she was washing the children, or cleaning the house, or turning the mangle, she tried to do it all to please Him. She remembered that He was looking at her, and that He would be pleased if she did it well. It was wonderful how that thought helped her, and how it made the work easy and pleasant.

So, through the bright, clean window, the morning sunbeams were streaming on little Angel's head. Her mother was standing by her side, watching her as she lay asleep, and waiting for her to awake.

As soon as ever Angel opened her eyes, her mother said—

"Little Angel, do you know what to-day is?"

"No, mother," said Angel, rubbing her eyes, and sitting up in bed.

"It's your birthday, Angel; it is indeed!" said her mother. "I hunted it out in your grandmother's old Bible. It's the day you were born, just seven years ago!"

"And am I really going to have a birthday, mother?" said Angel, in a very astonished voice.

"Yes, a real good birthday," said her mother; "so get up and come downstairs, before any of it is gone."

Angel was not long in putting on her clothes and coming down. She found the table put quite ready for breakfast, with a clean tablecloth, and the mugs and plates set in order for her and her little brothers and sisters; and in a little jar in the middle of the table was a beautiful bunch of flowers. Real country flowers they were, evidently gathered from some pleasant cottage garden far away. There were stocks and mignonette, and southernwood, and sweetbrier, and a number of other flowers, the names of which neither Angel nor her mother knew.

"Oh mother, mother," said little Angel, "what a beautiful nosegay!"

"It's for you, Angel," said her mother: "for your birthday. I got it at the early market. My father always gave me a posy on my birthday."

"Oh, mother," said little Angel, "is it really for me?"

But that was not all, for by the side of Angel's plate she found a parcel. It was tied up in brown paper, and there was a thick piece of string round it, fastened tightly in so many knots that it took Angel a long time to open it. Her little hands quite shook with excitement when at last she took off the cover and looked inside. It was a little book, in a plain black binding.

"Oh, mother," said Angel, "what is it? Is it for my birthday?"

"Yes," said her mother; "look at the writing at the beginning. I'll read it to you."

It was very uneven writing, and very much blotted, for Mrs. Blyth was only a poor scholar; but little Angel did not notice this—it seemed very wonderful to her to be able to write at all.

Now, what was written in the little book was this:

"Given to little Angel by her dear mother; and she hopes she will promise to read it, and will keep her promise better than I did."

"But I can't read, mother," said Angel.

"No; but you must learn," said her mother. "I mean that you shall go to school regular now, Angel. Why, you're seven years old to-day!"

Poor little Angel's head was nearly turned; it was such a wonderful thing to have a birthday.

But the wonders of the day were not over yet; for when, after breakfast, Angel asked for the clothes to mangle, her mother said: "They're all done Angel; I'm just going to take them home. I've done a lot these three nights when you was in bed, that we might have a bit of a holiday to-day."

"A holiday, mother!" said Angel. "Oh, how nice! No mangling all day!"

"No mangling all day," repeated the mother, as if the thought were as pleasant to her as to Angel.

But the wonders of the day were not yet over.

"Angel," said her mother, as they were washing the children, "did you ever see the sea?"

"No, mother," said Angel; "but Tim has; he went last Easter Monday with his uncle."

"Well," said her mother, "if it doesn't rain, you shall see it to-day."

"Oh, mother!" was all that little Angel could say. And who do you think is going to take you, child? "I don't know, mother."

"Why, Angel, your father is. He came in last night as soon as you'd gone to bed. He sat down in that arm-chair by the fire, and he said, 'Dear me! how comfortable things is just now at home! If they was always like this, I wouldn't stop out of an evening.'"

"So I said, 'If God helps me, John, they always shall be like this, and a deal better, too, when the children gets a bit bigger.' And your father stopped at home and read his newspaper, Angel, and then we had a bit of supper together. It was like when we was first married, child; and as we ate our supper, Angel, I said, 'It's Angel's birthday to-morrow, John.' And your father said, 'Is it? Why, to-morrow's Saturday. Let's all go to the sea together;' and he took quite a handful of shillings out of his pocket. 'Here's enough to pay,' he said. 'Have them all ready at dinner-time, and we'll go by the one-o'clock train.'"

"Oh, mother," said little Angel, "it is so nice to have a birthday!"

True to his promise, John Blyth came home at dinner-time, with the shillings still in his pocket. His mates had tried hard to persuade him to turn into the Blue Dragon on his way home, but he told them he had an engagement, and had no time to stay.

What a happy afternoon that was!

Angel had never been in a train before, and her father took her on his knee, pointing out to her the houses, and trees, and fields, and sheep, and cows, and horses, as they went by. And then they arrived at the sea, and oh! What a great, wonderful sea it seemed to Angel! She and her little brothers and sisters made houses in the sand, and took off their shoes and stockings and waded in the water, and picked up quite a basketful of all kinds of beautiful shells; whilst her father and mother sat, with the baby, under the shadow of the cliffs and watched them.

And then they all came home together to tea, and her father never went out again that night, but sat with them by the fire, and told Angel stories till it was time to go to bed.

"Oh, mother," said Angel again, a sleepy head on the pillow, "it is nice to have a birthday!"