The plan was carried out. There was nothing in it anybody could object to; there was nothing of the fetish, nor crucifix, nor altar about it. Many an eye was raised up to those stars; the children were especially fascinated by them, and the shop was even spoken of by some as "The shop of the silver star," but none guessed their meaning. Reynolds was quite in the dark; though he often watched his mistress fix her eyes on them, he never came near the secret. Most people thought they were only in the nature of decoration. How often we draw near to holy places without even a thrill or look of wonder!
And the stars helped her greatly. I do not say she never forgot, but every little help we can secure along life's way to bind us to the Divine we should make the most of and rejoice over.
Even sharp-eyed, sharp-witted Bessie, who was now a real member of the circle, did not guess their meaning. Perhaps this was because she was so full of her own good-fortune that she was not keen on anything else just then, and when her first joy had cooled somewhat, the sight of the stars had become too familiar to excite comment.
For a long time Mrs. Colston and Phebe had been of the opinion that Bessie would never make much progress while under her mother's roof. Both mother and daughter loved each other (there was no doubt about that), but they did not rest each other. Mrs. Marchant was a fretful woman; family cares had shattered her nerves; Bessie was all alive—"life in every limb" was intensely true about her three times over—and so they constantly irritated each other.
As Bessie was washing up the tea-things one day, feeling very down-hearted, even dropping a tear now and again, she thought she would banish her gloom with a little song, and so piped up on her loudest key:
"I'm sweeping through the gates;"
not remembering more than one verse, the chorus was repeated several times.
"Sakes alive!" screamed out the mother from the kitchen, "do stop that. Do, for goodness' sake, finish your sweeping, girl, and get through the gates and stop there!"
"I only wish I could," replied Bessie, but not loud enough for the mother to hear.
Soon after that she noticed her brother's jacket had slipped off a chair in the kitchen, where he had thrown it, and while she was sitting mending some stockings, she saw something moving on it. For a minute or two she kept a most careful watch, then cautiously picked the coat up and hung it at the back of the door. When her brother came to put it on she gave a nervous little wriggle on her chair, but said nothing.