Chapter VII: Conclusion

ELFIE had probably never heard the maxim, "Honesty is the best policy;" and if she had, she certainly would not have believed it. She knew how much, or rather how little, she could earn by fair work; knew, too, that some of her companions would laugh at her for trying to be honest; but she did not know how hard the struggle would be until she fairly tried it. It had been easy enough to slip into the habit of pilfering, but it was not so easy to break it off, when once it was commenced. Again and again did she wish that she had never taken the first wrong step, never formed the evil habit of taking what was not her own, and sometimes she feared she should never be able to break it off now.

Things grew worse and worse with the two girls as the winter advanced. Often they were without fire and without food, except the market refuse Elfie brought home. Susie had tried again and again to get a place such as the grocer's, but no one wanted a girl, it seemed, or at least no one wanted her. It must be that everybody believed her to be a thief, she thought; and Elfie thought so too, and that made her so bitter that she said one day, "I won't try to be honest any longer: everybody says I am a thief, and so I may as well be one; it's better to steal than to starve."

"O Elfie, don't say that!" exclaimed Susie. "We haven't starved yet, and we've managed to keep our home too, though we have had to sell some of the things."

Elfie looked round at the almost bare room. "It's no good trying any longer, Susie," she said; "there's such a lot of poor girls in London, God has forgot all about us two."

"No, he has not; I'm sure he has not," said Susie; "he is 'our Father,' and so he can't forget us."

"Well, he don't mean to help us then," said Elfie. "It's all my fault, I know; I was a thief, and that's why he won't have anything to do with me; I'm too bad, I know."

"You're not, Elfie. Jesus died to save sinners—real sinners like you and me, Elfie. He saved the thief on the cross, and said he should be with him in paradise; and he will save us—save us from our sins, as well as the punishment of them."

But Elfie shook her head. "I can't bear to see you hungry, Susie," she said with a choking sob; "and it's hard to see the potatoes and turnips there in the market, and hear the men say we are a set of little thieves, and sure to help ourselves, and then come away without taking one. You don't know how hard it is."

It was true enough. Even Susie did not know the full bitterness Elfie was daily enduring in her efforts to do right; but that the struggle was a hard one she fully understood, and she said, "Only Jesus knows just how hard it is, Elfie; but he won't let it be more than you can bear. He will send us some help soon. I'm sure he will; perhaps you'll be able to earn a lot of money to-day."

This hope, however, was doomed to disappointment, as it had been so many times before. Elfie came home with only a few bruised apples and a handful of dried crusts as the reward of her day's toil; and Susie made up her mind to speak to the teacher at the school that very night. She had often thought of doing this, but the fear lest she should say, as so many others had done, "I can't have anything to do with thieves," had made her shrink from telling even her how they were placed.

She told Elfie what she meant to do; but all hope had left Elfie now, and she paid little attention to what was said. She divided the apples and crusts between them, and had soon eaten her own share; but Susie's remained almost untouched, and she could not help looking longingly towards them.

Susie saw this, and pushed them towards her. "You eat 'em, Elfie—I can't," she said.

"Can't eat!" exclaimed Elfie, to whom such a thing seemed almost incredible.

"No, I'm not hungry, only sick," said Susie. And, unable to sit up any longer, she laid herself down on the bed. Elfie waited a minute or two, and then took the apple and crusts across to her; but Susie took no notice of her repeated entreaties to eat, and at last Elfie grew frightened. She put the apple down, and bent over the pale, inanimate face, and kissed the cold lips.

"O Susie, open your eyes, or speak to me!" she said, beginning to cry.

But there was only a faint moan in response to her pleadings, and she flew off to knock at the door of one of the other lodgers. But the woman was not at home, and Elfie ran downstairs and out into the street, taking the way towards the school as the only place of friendly refuge.

Just as she was turning a corner, panting and breathless, she ran against the teacher, which brought her to an abrupt standstill.

"You need not be in such a hurry to-night, Elfie; there's no school, you know."

Elfie had forgotten this; but for a minute or two she could not speak, but looked into the teacher's face.

"Don't you remember I told you there was to be a meeting of gentlemen to talk about getting a home or refuge for some of you poor children?" said the teacher.

Elfie nodded. "I know," she said; "but do come to Susie, teacher."

"To Susie! What is the matter with her?" asked the teacher.

"I don't know, but I think she is going to die." And Elfie's tears broke out afresh.

At the same moment the clergyman, on his way to the meeting at the Ragged School, stopped to speak to the teacher, and looked at Elfie.

"What is the matter, my child?" he asked.

"Susie's bad, sir; she can't eat the apple I've brought home for her."

"I am going to see what it is," said the teacher. "Susie Sanders is one of our best scholars."

"Where is your mother, my dear?" asked the clergyman.

"Susie's mother is dead, and I ain't got one," said Elfie.

"I think I will come with you, and see about these girls," said the minister; and he and the teacher followed Elfie to Fisher's Lane.

Poor Elfie was in a great fright, for it was quite dark, and they had no candle, and how the visitors were to find their way upstairs, she did not know. At the door she paused, and whispered, "We live at the top of the house, teacher, and we can't afford to buy candles."

The clergyman overheard the whisper, and put his hand into his pocket. "Here's sixpence, child; run and buy a candle and a box of lucifers."

Elfie darted off, but when she laid the money on the counter at the shop, she saw that instead of a sixpence the minister had given her a half-sovereign. What riches it seemed to her! How much she could buy with all this money! And instinctively her hand went over it as it lay on the counter.

A penny candle and a box of matches, she knew, cost three halfpence, and this taken from sixpence would leave fourpence halfpenny; and this she resolved to return to the minister, keeping the rest for herself. He had told her it was sixpence, so this theft would never be known; and she took the pile of silver and tied it up in a bit of rag, and hid it in her bosom as soon as she got outside the shop, and then ran back to where the minister and the teacher were waiting. The gentleman took the change, and the teacher lighted the candle and went on upstairs, followed by Elfie, who seemed suddenly to have forgotten her anxiety for Susie, and lingered behind.

In truth, Elfie dreaded to see that white face, with this money hidden in her bosom, and already began to wish she had not kept it, for it made her feel so miserable.

At length the little garret was reached, and there lay Susie, cold and insensible as Elfie had left her, with the dirty dry crusts and bruised apple lying by her side.

The gentleman uttered an exclamation of surprise as he looked round the room, while the teacher went across and raised poor Susie's head, glancing at the dry crusts as she did so. "Poor girl! She seems very ill. What has she had to eat to-day?" she asked, speaking to Elfie, who had flung herself on the floor at Susie's feet.

"Nothing," answered Elfie through her sobs; "she couldn't eat the crusts and apples I got."

"And is that all you have had?" asked the clergyman.

But instead of answering, Elfie buried her head in the bed-clothes, sobbing, "O Susie, Susie, do open your eyes and speak to me once more, and let me tell you all about this dreadful money. I won't keep it—I hate it," she added, passionately tugging at the bosom of her ragged frock, and at last dashing a little bundle to the floor.

The teacher had not paid much attention to what Elfie was saying, for the clergyman was speaking to her, asking what was to be done with Susie, who was evidently suffering from want and privation. The room was bitterly cold, and the first thing to be done was to send Elfie to buy some coals and wood; and then, when the fire was lighted, for some milk and a loaf of bread. While the teacher was lighting the fire, and the minister cutting some slices of bread from the loaf, Susie slowly opened her eyes and looked round her. Elfie saw the change, and the next moment was kneeling at her side.

"O Susie, Susie, I almost forgot; but Jesus saved me from being quite a thief again. As soon as ever I saw you, I remembered what you said, and threw the money down."

"Poor Elfie," said Susie in a whisper; and then becoming conscious of the fire and candle light, and the presence of others in the room, said in a frightened tone, "What is it, Elfie?"

But Elfie was pushed aside, and the teacher came forward with a little warm milk in a cup, and gave a few spoonfuls to Susie. The first was poured down her throat; but she took the rest eagerly, and then whispered, "More, please."

The minister could not bear to look at that pale, famished face, and turned away to crumble some of the bread into the milk, and urged Elfie to eat some. Elfie, however, could talk of nothing but money, it seemed; and so at length the minister said, "What is this you are talking about—what money have you stolen?"

"O sir, I didn't think about stealing when you sent me for the candle. I promised Susie I never would steal again; but when I saw what a lot of money there was, and you thought it was only sixpence, I took it, and here it is." And Elfie gave him the little pile of silver tied up in a piece of dirty rag.

It was some little time before the clergyman could fully understand the mistake he had made, and how he should make it was then a mystery to him. And by the time this was made somewhat clear to his mind, he was compelled to leave to attend the meeting; for it was very late now, and what he had seen made him more anxious than ever that a refuge should be established for the poor destitute children of this neighbourhood.

The minister had placed the money given back to him by Elfie in the hand of the teacher, to be expended for the benefit of the two girls; and after she had seen them both eat a basin of bread and milk, she questioned them upon their mode of living, and asked why they had never mentioned to her Susie's wish to get a place.

Both girls looked confused, and Susie said, "I was afraid, teacher."

"Afraid!" repeated the teacher.

"Yes, teacher; everybody said Susie was a thief," said Elfie with a little heightened colour. "She didn't deserve to be called a thief," she went on; "but I did. I often used to steal things, but I don't now; for I couldn't bear to think Susie should bear my punishment all for nothing."

"And so this is why you gave the money back to-night?" said the teacher.

Elfie nodded. "I couldn't help it," she said, "when I saw Susie; all she had said about our Father's love, and what the Lord Jesus had suffered to save me from my sins, came back to my mind, and I was obliged to throw the money down."

Susie had only dimly understood what she said before, but it was explained to her now; and likewise that she was not to attempt to go out the next day until her teacher had been to see her again. She was obliged to leave them now, and giving Susie some money to buy food for the next morning, she took her departure.

After she had gone, the two girls sat talking of all that had happened; but it was evident Elfie was greatly bowed down at the thought of her attempt to rob the minister.

"I shall never learn to be honest," she said; "for if I see anything I can take, I want it directly, and I seem to forget everything else."

"But Jesus has helped you to begin, Elfie, and he'll help you to keep on till you quite hate the sin," said Susie.

"I don't really like it now," said Elfie.

"Well, that is something, for you did love it once; you said so," replied Susie quickly. "Jesus has made you dislike it, and he will go on helping you."

"But I am so wicked, I shan't mind about his help, if I have to stay here for ever; and it's always so hard to keep honest."

This was just what the minister was saying to some gentlemen as they walked home together. Temptations were so strong, the battle of life so hard, for these poor little street children, that it was no wonder they grew up to be wicked men and women.

When he saw the teacher again, he heard of Susie's wish to learn to be a servant, and all she had told her concerning her mother, and he resolved to befriend her if he could. It would not be easy to persuade any one to take a girl without a character from such a place as Fisher's Lane, he knew; but he thought his wife would do so, and could find her some employment in helping the other servants, and a day or two afterwards, Susie heard that she was to go to the minister's house about this.

But, to the teacher's surprise, Susie burst into tears, and said—"Please, ma'am, could Elfie go instead of me?"

"Instead of you!" repeated her teacher. "Why, I thought you wanted to be a servant?"

"Yes, teacher, but so does Elfie; and—and I'm afraid Elfie would give up trying, if I was to go away."

"But I don't think Elfie would be able to do the work required," said the teacher.

Susie looked disappointed. "I'm very sorry," she said, "but I can't leave Elfie."

The teacher had thought, too, it would never do to leave the poor little friendless creature to herself; and believing there was already a great change effected in her character, she had determined to take charge of her. Elfie could run errands, and go to school with her all day, and by-and-by she would learn to do things about the house and make herself useful; and she told Susie of this plan now.

"Oh, thank you; then I shall be so glad to have this place!" said Susie joyfully; and she went at once to prepare herself for the walk.

It was settled that she should go as kitchen maid, as soon as some decent clothes could be made for her; and at the same time, Elfie would take up her abode with the teacher. They would still see each other, for Susie was to attend the Ragged School of an evening; and Elfie promised to go to church every Sunday, that she might sit by her, and hear from the lips of their kind friend truths which they, young as they were, had experienced; and this above all others—"Our Father's" love.

THE END.