Chapter IV: Maggie Is Invited to a Party

IT wanted but two days to Christmas, and it was intensely cold. For a few hours in the morning the sun had shone brightly in a cloudless blue sky; but now evening had come, and the keen, frosty air was cruelly biting to those who lacked thick garments and warm furs to shelter them from the severity of the weather. It promised to be a trying Christmastide for the London poor, but those who had cosy firesides to turn to, said it was healthy and seasonable.

To an onlooker, things would not have appeared very comfortable in the Blundells' home. There was scarcely more than a handful of coals in the little fire-place. Mrs. Blundell, as usual, was stitching away at her work, whilst the children held a whispered conversation together. Yet, cheerless though the garret looked, there was an atmosphere of quiet contentment about its inmates. Christmas was coming! That was the thought which cheered their hearts, that made the mother almost forget her misgivings for the future, as she hummed softly to herself the lines of the well-known hymn:

"He comes the broken heart to bind,
The bleeding soul to cure;
And with the treasures of His grace
To bless the humble poor."

Suddenly Mrs. Blundell dropped her work on her lap, and turned her head expectantly to the doorway. She had heard a footstep, and in a minute there was a knock. Maggie ran to the door, and admitted a little woman with stooping shoulders—no other than Jim Blewett's landlady.

"Oh, Mrs. Metherell!" Mrs. Blundell exclaimed in quick, pleased tones. "Do please come in and sit down! Why, you're quite breathless with climbing up the stairs! I am glad to see you, ma'am!"

Brisk and smiling, Mrs. Metherell greeted the children cordially, and then, turning to their mother, said:

"I am not going to stay long, but in my basket here are a few things for you. The fact is, all my lodgers but one have gone away for Christmas, and they've left some provisions behind that it would be a pity to let spoil. Here's half a cold chicken and a knuckle of ham—'Nearer the bone, the sweeter the meat,' they say—and a few other trifles."

"Oh, ma'am, I shall never be able to thank you for all the thoughtful goodness you've shown to me and mine! If you had not been such a friend to us before now, I believe we should have starved!"

"You have a better friend than me, you know, Mrs. Blundell. We are all in God's hands."

"I do know it, ma'am; but sometimes one's faith seems weak!"

"'There hath not failed one word of all His good promise,'" Mrs. Metherell quoted in her pleasant, cheery tones. "Now please to empty the basket, and I hope you'll have a good supper, and enjoy it. Annie, my dear, how are you to-night?"

"Oh, much better, thank you, ma'am."

"Much better, eh? That's right. And what have you there?" Suddenly becoming aware that the little girl was evidently desiring her to notice the object in her arms.

"It is a doll, my doll, ma'am," in proud accents. "She is called 'Rose.' Isn't she a beauty?"

In a few words Mrs. Blundell explained how the child had become possessed of her treasure. Mrs. Metherell nodded her head approvingly as she listened to the tale, whilst her face simply beamed with smiles. "Well, now!" she exclaimed. "That was kindly done! Don't you wish you knew who the gentleman was?"

"Yes, indeed," Mrs. Blundell answered earnestly. "I feel quite sorry to think he will never know how thankful my children are to him for his gift."

"I can't thank him myself," Annie put in, "I only wish I could. But Maggie and I speak of him to God every night. I think God will bless him, don't you, ma'am?"

"Yes, I do," Mrs. Metherell returned in cordial tones, "I feel sure of it. She is, indeed, a beautiful doll, Annie; and I don't wonder you are pleased."

"I love her very much," answered the little invalid simply.

"There is one thing more I have to say before I go," Mrs. Metherell said, as she turned to Maggie, "and it's to do with you, my dear. I am going to give a little party on Christmas Eve to a few children I know, and I want you to join us. Would you like to come to my party, Maggie?"

In her astonishment Maggie turned very red, then quite pale, and for a minute did not answer. At length she gave a little gasp of mingled pleasure and surprise as she exclaimed:

"Oh, ma'am! A party!"

"From four to eight. Will you allow Maggie to come, Mrs. Blundell?"

The mother looked doubtful, as she mentally pictured Maggie's best frock, which was decidedly more than a little shabby. Then she reflected that her visitor, who knew her position very well, would not expect her child to be dressed smartly, and she gave a cordial consent.

"It is indeed kind of you to ask Maggie, ma'am," she said, "and I'm sure I shall be only too pleased for her to go. It will be a rare treat for her."

"It is decided, then. At four, mind, and be in good time, Maggie."

The little girl accompanied their visitor down the rickety stairs in order to pour into her ears the thanks she had at first been too astonished to utter. When she came upstairs again she found her mother and sister in quite a state of excitement.

"Oh, I am so glad!" the latter exclaimed. "Oh, what a wonderful week this has been! First came my doll, and, now, to think that you are going to a real party, Maggie, not a 'make believe' one! Mind you notice everything, so as to be able to tell me all about it!"

"That I will," Maggie agreed readily, "I only wish you were going too, Annie."

"Oh, I don't mind now I have Rose for company. I shall be able to imagine it all, and that will be nearly as good as being there," was the contented reply.

"I am very pleased too. It seems to me that we have more friends than we thought. I am sure I'm delighted that Maggie should have this pleasure," Mrs. Blundell said, with a loving glance at her little daughters, and remembering how the younger child had given up her doll to her invalid sister.

"I wish we were all going," Maggie went on, "but, never mind, I'll tell you everything about it afterwards. I wonder what we shall do? Play games, I expect."

"And there will be refreshments—all sorts of nice things!" Annie suggested.

She was not in the least a greedy child, but her capricious appetite often hankered after such luxuries as she rarely tasted.

"We will have supper now," Mrs. Blundell said, and Maggie began to busy herself preparing the evening meal.

They had not tasted meat for the day, and the knuckle of ham and scraps of chicken seemed a feast indeed. Cheered by the good food, the children grew quite merry, and chatted and laughed. The mother watched them, and thanked God for putting it into Mrs. Metherell's heart to remember them that Christmas.

Jim Blewett's landlady had been a kind friend to them ever since, two years ago, she had by chance learnt to know of the hard-working widow and her children. Many a time Mrs. Metherell had sent a dainty dish to tempt the little invalid's appetite; and on rare occasions, as on the present, she had paid a visit to the family, but never before had she invited one to her home. How deeply Mrs. Blundell appreciated her kindness to Maggie only one in her position can realise, and Mrs. Metherell herself would have been surprised and much gratified could she have known the intense pleasure which the anticipation of her party was giving in at least one humble home.