Chapter XIV: Stitching and Talking

"IT'S no make-believe of a home that Robert can take up with after this," thought Mrs. Hayes, as she sat in the easy-chair, leaning her head upon the little pillow at the top of it, with her eyes closed as if for a nap, but her thoughts extremely busy. "I wonder if there are any more Susans and Millys in the world."

It was a comfortable home, certainly, with "a place for everything, and everything in its place," and yet no show, no fuss, as if things were not to be touched and used, but hung or stood to be looked at.

The general sitting-room had the oven and the ironing-board, while all unsightly operations in washing or cooking were carried on in the back kitchen, where no one was disturbed by them, and where unavoidable greasy doings, and sundries, such as knife-board, blacking bottles, black pans and kettles, had it all to themselves.

Then there was also "a room to be quiet in," where solitude, or a confidential chat, or a company tea-party could be had if required; a neatly-furnished parlour, with a little fire nearly every day in winter, keeping away the mouldy smell which inhabits most "best rooms" everywhere. And what a luxury is such a room to one who is obliged to be in noise and confusion all day, among machinery or mankind, the strife of tongues, or the bustle of busy streets! There are times when a man would be quite alone, away even from the easy chat and playful humours of his own children, to rest, or think, or to hold communion with the gracious "God from whom all blessings flow," and it is happy to have, if possible, such a retreat.

Mrs. Hayes did not know where Robert was to look for a home to be compared with that of his childhood and youth; but she thought it would be well to prove that he had better not delude himself into the hope of it where his eyes, if not his heart, were attracted to seek it. So she insisted to Susan that her black silk dress must needs be turned at once, and that Miss Lydia Brooks was the person she wished to do it.

Susan looked in the old lady's face, but could read no particular explanation there, and kindly agreed; though some thoughts of her own would have made her prefer some one else.

So Miss Brooks came in a fashionable bonnet, and her hair dressed like that of the most stylish young lady in B—, so far as she could master it to her will, with a bright ribbon interwoven with it, all very well for that young lady in evening toilette, but somewhat out of character for the young dressmaker at nine o'clock in the morning, sitting down to work in a simple cottage home.

"Have you forgotten an apron, my dear?" said Mrs. Hayes. "I'm sure somebody will lend you one."

"Oh, I don't wear them, thank you," said Miss Brooks; "my dress won't take any harm."

"Nay, it was the other way I was thinking of," said Mrs. Hayes. "When I used to do my own work, I had a large white apron to keep it all fresh and clean. However, it doesn't matter for this, which is black to begin with."

Things went on pretty smoothly for some time until Lydia, who had put much restraint on her tongue during the morning, said, "I do wonder why Mrs. Taylor didn't bring up Milly to the dressmaking; she is such a nice-looking girl, a great deal too nice for a servant."

"My dear, what is a servant?" asked Mrs. Hayes, gently.

"A servant! Why, one who goes out for hire to—"

"For a year or more, instead of a day," interrupted Mrs. Hayes. "Yes, what else?"

"Well, one who is obliged to give up all her time to other people, and can never do as she likes, nor go out, nor take any pleasure. She can never hope to do like—like—one who has not been a servant," hesitated poor Lydia, feeling it rather awkward to explain.

"Like a lady, you mean, don't you, my dear?"

"Not exactly," murmured Lydia, afraid of being drawn too far.

"Not exactly a lady, but a person as much like one as possible. Imitations are not good for much, my dear; and as it didn't please the Almighty to make you, and Milly, and me ladies, we are more respectable as our own natural selves than trying to imitate and seem what we are not. But may I tell you what a servant really is? A good one, of course, I mean."

"Oh, if you choose," said Lydia, feeling much injured by being classed with an old woman, who perhaps had been a servant for anything she knew, and still more offended at the implied suggestion of not being a lady herself.

"Well, a good servant is a favoured, honoured person, who has it in her power to be one of the greatest blessings on earth; to be useful as no other has opportunity to be useful, and whose position and name are adopted by our Lord himself during his life on earth, and used besides to set forth the highest praise He could bestow on one He wished to honour, 'Well done, thou good and faithful "servant!" enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.'"

"But He meant any one who did well; even a lord or a lady might be 'His' servant," said Lydia.

"True, but the approval is not bestowed on the lord or the lady, it is bestowed on the 'faithful servant,' which you and I can be if we will. I expect by-and-by to find that many a lowly Christian servant will take her place in heaven by the side of her master and mistress, or perhaps above them. But assuredly none who set themselves up above service here in the station in which God has placed them, will be likely to see it, or have any part in that place of honour; for it is written, you know, 'He that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted;' and it must come true either in this world or the next, and perhaps in both."

Mrs. Hayes said no more for some time, leaving her words to work, as she hoped, and Lydia stitched away in silent displeasure. She began to dislike the old lady with a decided ill-will, and determined to hold her own opinions in spite of her.

So, after a while, she began again,—

"You seem to think nobody should try to get on in the world, Mrs. Hayes."

"What is 'getting on,' my dear?" said Mrs. Hayes, gently. "Let us understand each other's words."

"Why, I mean, of course, rising in the world, getting higher and richer, and more respectable, of course."

"Tell me first, my dear, what part of you is to rise—where would you rise to—why seek riches—and in whose eyes would you be respected?"

"Dear me, how particular you are about words!" said Lydia, half inclined to laugh off the pressure she had provoked.

"I always like to make sure that I understand what I'm talking about," said the old lady, quietly; "it saves 'idle words,' and we shall have to 'give account' of our words some day, you know. Come, let me hear how you explain yours. I am an old woman, and not very loveable, I know, but I would gladly help you to a right judgment if you'll let me."

"Oh, I don't see that I've taken up with a wrong one yet," said Lydia, pertly; "but I mean this: improving one's position, taking a place above that one is born in, and associating with higher people; rich enough to do anything you please without considering expense, and be looked up to as of some consequence in the world. That's what I mean. And I could be generous, too, and give away a great deal to charities, and people in distress."

"You have explained yourself very well indeed," said Aunt Hayes; "and now I am quite able to answer your first question. I do 'not' think it desirable to 'try to get on in the world' in that sense, and for those objects."

"And why, pray? It is your turn to explain now."

"I will not answer you as a matter of mere opinion," replied Mrs. Hayes, "because some people don't care for an old woman's opinions; but I will give you the words of those who spoke and wrote for all times, and all persons, and who were safe from errors of judgment in the statements made.

"'Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus; who being in the form of God thought it not robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, and took upon Him the form of a servant.'

"'Having food and raiment let us be therewith content; but they that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil; which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.'

"'Before honour is humility.'

"'God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble,' and 'they
that walk in pride He is able to abase.'

"'Let your conversation be without covetousness, and be content with such things as ye have; for He hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.'

"I could go on, but these are sufficient reasons, I think, against the course you describe. They express the judgment of the Lord God, who knows the true value of things; and as our deceitful hearts propose to us as a good reason for wishing to be rich and important, the power of relieving distress and giving liberally, He has settled that for us too:

"'Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor . . . and have not
charity, it profiteth me nothing.'

"'If there be first a willing mind, it is accepted according to that a
man hath, and not according to that he hath not.'"

"Then what's the good of working, if we ar'n't to wish to get on?" said Lydia.

"Because it is also written,—

"'Not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord.'

"We are born in the position and under the circumstances which God wills, and in which He will bless and prosper us; and if He chooses to raise us to anything higher, He will provide it, and fit us for it; but, to be planning and struggling after wealth and honour to please ourselves is both ignorant and presumptuous, very irritating to the temper and unsatisfactory to the heart after all. It is just quarrelling with God, and fighting against His providence; and when the end comes, supposing we have succeeded, the most we shall have gained will be wisdom to answer the solemn question once asked by the Lord Jesus,—

"'What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose
his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?'

"Think of all this, and live for something better than covetousness of things above you. You can serve God where He has placed you, and a queen can do no more."