Chapter XX: A Present

"MY dear!" said Dr. Brown to his daughter, on the night of the picnic. "It will never do to have you sitting up late to talk to me, and yet we do want to be together, do we not?"

"Indeed we do, father! We shall have to plan in some way to have a little time quiet. But that will be easy when we settle down."

"I wanted to ask you something," said Dr. Brown, hesitating a little, and half turning away to the bookcase.

"What is it?" asked Ruth, rather astonished. But so many astonishing things had happened within a week that she thought she should hardly be surprised at anything.

"I have been thinking—" he said, slowly, "whether we ought not to begin prayers in the morning, now we have all these children here—and—now I feel so differently from what I used?"

He turned back, and looked more boldly in her face, though the colour had deepened in his, and he seemed hardly able to bring out his words.

"Oh, I am so glad!" exclaimed Ruth, heartily.

"Are you? Then you will help me through with it?"

"Of course I will! Why, it was only last Sunday that the curate said if people would begin it, they would find such a blessing."

"Did he? Well, I'm convinced it is right, but the first step is such an effort."

Ruth came over and leant her hands on his arm.

"If I had a little book—it seems absurd to be shy over it, doesn't it?" he said, awkwardly, "but yet I am—"

Ruth kissed him lovingly. "It is a great effort, but we shall be glad. How strange that the curate should mention it, was it not? He said that if people would read a few words from the Bible, and kneel down together and repeat the Lord's prayer slowly together, it would be a beginning, and would bring a great blessing."

"We could do that," said Dr. Brown, looking relieved.

"When shall we begin?" asked prompt Ruth.

"To-morrow!" he answered, only waiting for her helpful acquiescence.

"I'm sure it would be better," she said, heartily.

"Then, tell Morris and the servants. Eight o'clock sharp, my dear."

So Ruth wished him good-night, and then ran back again, and threw her arms round his neck. "You dear, dear father!" she whispered.

All went well the next day. Dr. Brown looked rather pale when he came in at the sound of the bell, but he took his usual place at the table, and then looked round on the assembled family.

"I did not think of this as a duty till lately," he said, "but I am sure we shall have God's blessing if we seek it. Let us each in our different ways try to find something in the morning portion that will help us all day."

He opened the Bible where there was a mark, and read out in an impressive voice just the one verse,—

"'God commendeth His love towards us, in that while we were yet sinners
Christ died for us.'"

"Now let us repeat the Lord's Prayer together, petition by petition. There will be something in it—many things probably—that we all want. And let us think of it as we say the words, and may He answer our petitions for Christ's dear sake."

The children, and Ruth and the servants, never forgot that prayer, nor the moved, broken voice of the master of the house, as he prayed with them for the first time.

Then they all rose and left the room silently, and there were not a few tears winked away on the stairs as the servants sought their own quarters.

"God bless him!" said old Morris to herself, as she went into her own room. "The Lord has been better to me than my fears! 'Mine eyes have seen His salvation!'"

After breakfast, when Ruth and her father were having a talk over the treatment that should be begun for Norman, there was a ring at the bell, and Mr. Vincent Linthorpe was announced.

He soon explained that he was called home sooner than he had expected, and had come to say farewell, and to ask if he could be the bearer of any letter or message to Mr. Brown.

Dr. Brown said he should like to write a line, so Ruth proposed that they should leave him to do so while they found the others.

No one was to be seen but Heston, who was sitting in the dining-room window deep in one of his uncle's books.

"Where are they all?" asked Ruth.

"Mala has taken them down that winding path along the hillside," said Heston. "I hope it will not be too far for Norman. She will go very slowly, I expect."

"My father says you and I may go to Worcester to-day and see if we can get him a little invalid carriage for Mala to wheel him about in!" exclaimed Ruth. "Shall we go this morning, Heston?"

"Oh, how jolly. Uncle is very kind! When shall we go?"

"Soon," said Ruth, glancing towards their guest. "But there is no hurry, if you can stay a little time. I think you said you had to go directly, though?"

"Directly," said Vincent. "My train is at 10.20. I pass through Worcester," he added, eagerly, "could we all go together?"

"I daresay we could! I will run and ask my father if he has any other plans."

She hastened away, and the other two stood looking after her.

"She is going to do everything she can to get Norman better," Heston said, in a grateful tone.

"Yes; it is so sad for him—"

"Very. I little thought when it was arranged for us to come to England that we should find such kindness. I cannot speak of it, but I do feel it—"

Ruth came tripping back. "We may go, Heston, and if Mr. Linthorpe can wait ten minutes, I shall be quite ready, and so will you?"

Heston laughed. "I shall not be as long as that. But run away, Ruth, or you will not keep your promise."

"I wish I could stop at Worcester with you," said Vincent, as they sat in the train.

"I wish you could," answered Ruth, heartily, "for I feel it quite an undertaking to buy this little invalid carriage. My father has given me a picture out of one of his books, so I hope I shall manage."

"What kind of thing is it to be?" asked Heston.

"He is to be able to lie flat in it, so as to rest if he needs it, and yet he is to be able to sit almost upright in it."

"I think I've seen them at the seaside," said Vincent.

"Yes—and my father says we are all to go to the sea directly he can arrange it. He thinks that Norman ought to be out of doors all day long."

"Shall you like that?"

"To go to the sea? Oh, yes, I shall enjoy it intensely; especially if it does Norman good. But nothing is quite like these hills and views to 'me.' But I shall enjoy the sea very much for a time."

"I am so glad you like Mary, and that she has a friend in you!" exclaimed Vincent, as all too soon the train began to slow down outside Worcester.

"She has done me all the good in the world!" said Ruth. "I never saw anyone like her."

Vincent looked into the glowing face.

"I'm more glad than I can say!" he said, heartily. "Good-bye. Mary says I may come back, as my visit has been cut short!"

And then the train stopped. And in another moment, Ruth and Heston were lost to sight in the hurrying crowd on the platform.

"Norman," said Ruth, when she and Heston had returned from Worcester, "I have brought you a present, and I want you to try to do something for me."

She had found him alone for once, as Mala had gone down to get his tea.

The bright eyes looked into her face questioningly, and then at the parcel in her hand.

"See! You are so fond of living creatures that I thought this would give you pleasure. It is a dear little bullfinch, and I think you will be able to teach him all sorts of tricks."

Norman took her hand, and kissed it. Poor little fellow, he had no words to express his feelings.

She undid the wrappings, and there was the beautiful little bird, looking as perky and at home as possible.

He hopped down to help himself to some seed, and Norman looked delighted.

"Here is some hemp," pursued Ruth, "and soon he will come to take it off your finger. Let us try now."

She pressed a seed into her finger and put it through the bars, but though Dickie looked at it very earnestly, and turned his head first on one side and then another, he was too strange to advance along the perch at present.

"He will soon do it," said Ruth, well satisfied with their first attempt.

"Now, Norman," she continued, "I'm going to tell you what I want you to do. Can you whistle?"

Norman coloured, but shook his head. "Never mind! Some day when you are alone with Dickie you can try. You might teach him a tune, perhaps, by and bye."

Then, as Norman's eyes still looked questioningly into hers, she added, "Yes, I have something else I want you to do. I want you, when you are alone with Dickie, to talk to him with your lips, as if you could speak."

The child looked distressfully at her, but she went on gently—

"I know you cannot—but I want you to act as if you could. When you feel inclined, you know! Just form your lips into the word, 'Dickie! Dickie here's your food!' And though you cannot make any sound, just persevere in doing that for me, will you?"

She bent over him and kissed his cheek, and he looked into her eyes with a promise.

"There is a dear little boy!" she exclaimed. "I knew you would be sensible enough to try to do what I wanted. We need not tell anyone else about it. I told my father of my thought for you, and he is pleased. We will not tell the others at present till you have learned to do it quite easily. I do hope it may help you."

Norman kissed her hands again, and tried to make her understand, but at present she was not used enough to his finger-talking to do much in the way of communication. So she only kissed him lovingly in return. And at the moment Mala appeared with his tea-tray, and she hastened away to pour out for the rest.