“Thou can well afford it, take my word for that; besides, thou art not used to hard work nor fit for it. Also, I have something better for thee to do. When thy house is in order, 229 come to the manse and see me, then we will talk of it.”
So Elga quietly resumed her old duties, and ere two weeks were gone the house was almost in its first condition. White paint and soap and water, bees’-wax and turpentine, needle and thread, did wonders. On the evening of the eleventh day, Margaret and Elga went from attic to cellar with complete satisfaction. Every thing was spotless, every thing was in its old place. Jan’s big cushioned chair again stood on the hearth, and little Jan took possession of it. Many a night, wearied with play, he cuddled himself up among its cushions, and had there his first sleep. It is easy to imagine what Margaret’s thoughts were with such a picture before her—tender, regretful, loving thoughts most surely, for the fine shawl or stocking she was knitting at the time was generally wet with her tears.
The day after all was in its place and settled, she went to see Dr. Balloch. It was in the early morning when every thing was sweet, and cool and fresh. The blue-bells and daisies were at her feet, the sea dimpling and sparkling in the sunshine, the herring-fleet gathering 230 in the bay. Already the quays and streets were full of strangers, and many a merry young fisherman with a pile of nets flung over his shoulders passed her, singing and whistling in the fullness of his life and hope. All of them, in some way or other, reminded her of Jan. One carried his nets in the same graceful, nonchalant way; another wore his cap at the same angle; a third was leaning against his oars, just as she had seen Jan lean a hundred times.
The minister sat at his open door, looking seaward. His serene face was full of the peace and light of holy contemplation. His right hand was lovingly laid on the open Bible, which occupied the small table by his side.
“Come in, Margaret,” he said pleasantly. “Come in; is all well with thee now?”
“Every thing is well. The house is in order and Snorro hath promised to plant some berry bushes in my garden; he will plant them to-day with the flower seeds thou gave me. The snowdrops are in bloom already, and the pansies show their buds among the leaves.”
“Dost thou know that Snorro hath left thy father?”
“He told me that he had taken John Hay’s cottage, the little stone one on the hill above my house, and that in three days he would go to the fishing with Matthew Vale.”
“Now, then, what wilt thou do with thy time? Let me tell thee, time is a very precious gift of God; so precious that he only gives it to us moment by moment. He would not have thee waste it.”