"Does Molly Jenkins live there all by herself, Aunt Mary?" she inquired.
"No, my dear. She has an old father who shares her home with her. She has unfortunately to support him as well as herself, and that keeps her poor."
Miss Holcroft was silent a moment, then she resumed—
"You are old enough, I think, Marigold, to know something of the suffering that sin brings as its companion. There was never wrong done without someone having to smart for it, and often an innocent person. I will tell you the history of Molly Jenkins as an example, and then you will see what I mean. Her father was a farmer in the north of Devon, and her mother died when she was an infant. The times for farmers were hard, crops failed, and there was great agricultural depression generally, so that Mr. Jenkins lost a lot of money, and unhappily took to drink. He was always very fond of his little daughter, and would nurse her on his knee, and play with her by the hour; but one day he came home in a state of intoxication, and let the poor child fall from his arms to the ground, laming her for life."
"Oh, Aunt Mary, how awful!" Marigold cried, in horrified accents.
"Awful indeed! One would have imagined having done his child such a terrible injury would have made the wretched father forswear drink for ever, but such was not the case. Of course, he was dreadfully shocked, but he did not give up the vice that had taken such firm hold upon him. Poor Molly suffered a great deal, and could not go to school like other children. She would have grown up utterly neglected and uneducated but for the wife of the vicar of the parish, who not only taught her to read and write, and lent her books, but paid for her being taught the art of making Honiton lace, that she might have the means of earning her own living. The vicar's wife was a poor woman herself, I have been told, and therefore her treatment of her little lame neighbour was all the kinder and more praiseworthy on that account. She used to keep poultry, and sell the garden produce at the nearest market town, and in that way add to her husband's slender income; but, you see, she did not begrudge her time or her hardly earned money to the girl who had no claim on her. I do not doubt that He who loves a cheerful giver will reward her for what she did, and she has the satisfaction of knowing that Molly Jenkins is really grateful to her."
Miss Holcroft's gentle face beamed brightly, and Marigold looked up at her with an answering smile, for the two were beginning to understand each other well.
"I have often noticed that there is a great difference in money," Miss Holcroft continued reflectively; "some seems to carry a blessing with it, and some a curse! Money made in evil ways soon wears out; it is never any lasting good to anyone. Whereas, one sometimes sees the little that has been honestly earned doing incalculable good. I have a fancy that the spirit of the giver has a great deal to do with the value of the gift. However, to return to Molly Jenkins. Her father grew more and more careless about his farm, and neglected his work worse than ever as time went on, till at last the inevitable crash came. There was but little money for his creditors, and when the farm-stock and household furniture were sold to help pay the rent that was long overdue, they removed to Exeter to the home where I took you just now. That was two years ago, and since then Molly has supported her father and herself by her lace-work. He is a great trouble to her, and I fear will be a greater in the future, for he is fast becoming a broken-down old man, and if he earns a little money he is certain to spend it in drink."
"What a very sad story, Aunt Mary! I wonder how that poor girl manages to look so bright and cheerful!"
"It is because she trusts in Him who will never fail her. She has learnt to go to Him for strength in her weakness, and she knows He will not put upon her more than she can bear."