Chapter XXIV: A Message From America

SO the summer and the holidays had come to an end, and Aunt Ruth had "settled down," as Tom called it, and filled her own quiet little niche very happily.

After their last evening's talk at the seaside, the others were very curious to know whether Tom knew, really, of a home which was getting ready for Aunt Ruth.

Tom only shook his head whenever they asked him. "I know what I know," he said gravely, "and I have my own conclusions. It is not for me to say to everybody what I think. I'm glad Aunt Ruth is going to be with us for the present! That's all I have to do with, and you won't get more out of me if you ask me for a year!"

But all the same for that, when he got a letter one morning from America, he never mentioned the contents to anyone but his mother, and they did not know of that. It was not his own secret he was keeping.

"What makes you so bright, Tom?" asked his aunt wistfully one wintry day, as they sat over the fire together.

"Whenever I look at you, I say to myself, 'He careth for you,' auntie, and that does me good."

"But why, dear—I am very happy," she added. "You are all so loving, and I have such a much easier life than if I had to turn out on the world."

"Yes, 'He careth for you,'" said the boy, smiling. "You came and taught us to trust Him more than we ever did before, and now God lets me pass it back to you, so that you take courage to keep on!"

He smiled at her lovingly, and went to fetch his lesson books.

Tom read and re-read that letter from America, and could not make up his mind about it.

The letter said:

"You cannot think how you have comforted me about your Aunt Ruth! Tom! If you see any cause to tell her, or if you think it will add to her happiness, show her this letter. No one knows what it cost me to leave her without a word—but I seemed to have no right—at least, I thought so then. But sometimes I have thought—Tom, I am getting on nicely. Your text has been a great comfort, 'Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you.'"

"God has cared for me wonderfully, and if you think that she whom I love would be happier to know there is some one working for her, then—then tell her, Tom, or show her this letter, and ask her if I may write the next to her."

Tom had gone up to fetch his books. As he stood in the cold, reading over these words, he felt perplexed. It seemed such a great responsibility.

Then he thought of his text, and knelt down for an instant. "Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you."

For a minute he looked soberly at the letter, then with brightening cheeks, and ran downstairs. How thankful he was that the others were out!

"Aunt Ruth," he said, hesitating a little, "I have a letter here which I was to give you or not, as I considered best. It was a great honour to be charged with so much, but I think if I were in your place, I should like to see it."

He held out his hand, and it trembled. Aunt Ruth looked up earnestly. "Who is it from, Tom?"

"Some one you knew before your grand-papa died—some one who went abroad because—"

Tom choked. "You'll see what he says; it can't do any harm, and it may be a Christmas present for you, auntie!"

He caught up his books, and was gone before she could speak.

Presently—it seemed a good while to Tom in the cold—Aunt Ruth came to his door.

"Tom, dear," she said, with averted face, "how can I tell you how glad I am that you told me! God has been very good to me, and, indeed, His assurance which I trusted has come abundantly true, 'He careth for you.'"