"SHE CAUSED THE CUP, WITH ITS CONTENTS, TO FALL INTO PHEBE'S LAP."
In a moment there seemed a tempest in the room.
Reynolds exclaimed, "Now you've done something!"
Nanna screwed her lips up so tightly that only a little "Oh" came out.
"Oh, mummy, your French dress!" cried out young Jack.
Mrs. Marchant sprang to her feet and made a dash over the table as though she was going to box Bessie's ears. The table, however, being too broad she sank back into her chair, exclaiming: "There never, never was such a provoking girl, never! You may thank your stars, young madam, this did not happen in your own home!"
Phebe was the only quiet one in the company. She had placed the empty cup-and-saucer on the table, and as she stood up, the tea streaming down the front of her dress on to the floor, she said, in a calm, low voice, "Pray, Mrs. Marchant, do not trouble about it, I can soon change my dress," but before moving away she bent down and kissed Bessie, who was sitting gazing fixedly at the havoc she had made. The kiss seemed to waken her, and she exclaimed, as the tears streamed down her face, "What shall I do? What shall I do?"
"Do!" exclaimed Mrs. Marchant—"get some more sense into your head, that's what you should do, and drop all your wretched, nonsensical ways."
When Phebe returned Nanna had wisely arranged that she and Mrs. Marchant should finish their tea alone.
Mrs. Marchant's first words were: "Now I know that what our Phill said was true."
"What was that, Mrs. Marchant?"
"That you possess something I don't. If I had had a dress like that spoilt I should have gone into a towering passion, I know I should. But to see you taking it all so calmly, fairly staggered me. Tell me what it is that makes this difference between us?" Mrs. Marchant's voice was quite eager, and she looked beseechingly into Phebe's face.
"Perhaps several things," said Phebe, after a moment's hesitation; "I have trained myself not to get into flurries if I can help it, for they never accomplish anything. Then I knew Bessie was grieved enough without me adding one word more. But the chief thing is—shall I tell you?—do you really want to know?"
"Yes, I do, for I long to be like you." There was a catch in her voice that quite went to Phebe's heart.
"My first thought was, Jesus is here, and He would not like to see me agitated over such a little thing."
"Jesus!"
"Yes,—Jesus."
"Oh." There was a world of meaning in that one word.
"I think the difference between us is this," said Phebe, taking Mrs. Marchant's bony hand and gently stroking it: "I have put my life entirely into God's hands, and knowing He rules over everything, I can well afford to take things restfully."
"Then it is your religion that makes the difference?"
"Yes, if you like to put it that way."
"And would it make the same difference to me?"
"Of course it would."
"Well, I shall never forget the sight of your face when that tea went over. That sight was worth all the sermons I ever heard!"
"Wouldn't Bessie be glad if she knew! I'm not a bit sorry she spilt the tea, now. It would be worth the spoiling of all my dresses if it makes you want—Him!"—the last word very softly. Her eyes were on the silver star, but the secret of the star was too sacred to speak of.
"But," added Phebe, "you must not give me one bit of praise for keeping calm; I should have been as mad as anybody,—but for Him."
"And do you think of Him as always with you?"
"Sometimes I forget, and it is then that things go wrong."
That evening Phebe found Bessie busily engaged in unpicking the skirt of the unfortunate dress.
"I'll buy stuff to match it," exclaimed Bessie, "if I have to walk all the way to Paris!"
"Well, my dear, you cannot do that, because of the English Channel, but I want you to thank God you spilt that tea."
"Thank God I spilt that tea! What do you mean?"
And then Phebe told her story.
"Ah, it was not the tea, it was the blessed peace in your dear face that did it! It's just like your dear loving ways to want to give me a share in it! I tell you, mother is quite correct, I am the most exasperating girl that ever was! But"—and she looked up with a tender little smile—"I've caught a little bit of your secret to-day. As you stood up there with the tea all trickling down your dress, I fancied I saw Jesus just behind you! It was that which kept me from answering mother back."
"That was just splendid, Bessie, I am proud of you!"
"What, in spite of this!" holding up the stained breadth.
"Yes, in spite of that and a dozen like it! What is that worth compared with my Bessie? And Nanna would say just the same."