The Transformation of Job / A Tale of the High Sierras

by Frederick Vining Fisher

But as Martha was reveling in the sights over which her eyes roamed, and feeling the sweet comfort of being nestled close, a girl at the further end of the pew broke a sturdy bit of rose geranium she held into two pieces and, reaching over, laid one half on the brown woolen gloves.

Looking up, Martha met a smile and a nod from the giver. Thus prompted, a lesson leaf was next laid upon the geranium branch by a second girl, and a smile from another pair of eyes met Martha's. After a little whispering and nodding between two girls near the aisle, one of their open singing books was laid on the lesson leaf. "That's the opening song; you'll get it after the first verse—you always do," was whispered, and, with a nod, the giver settled back in her place, and the one at her side passed her book along so as to make it serve for two.

Oh, how nice it was! And Martha drew a long breath. Then seeing that the holes in her gloves showed, she tucked them further under the singing book. This called to mind the broken shoe-strings, and she moved her feet back out of sight. But even unmended gloves and untidy shoes could not mar Martha Matilda's sweet feeling of comfort—poor little Martha Matilda, longing so to be taken in somewhere, but hardly knowing where or how!

As it was Easter morning, the service was given to the children, who had the center of the church reserved for them. The superintendent was seated by the side of the minister, and it was he who gave out the opening song. Martha found that after the first verse she could "catch it" very easily, and this joining in the service made her feel all the more one of them. The prayer that followed was a different prayer from any that Martha had ever listened to, so low and sweet and confiding were the words spoken, like friend talking with friend. The second song Martha joined in at once, it being one she knew, and so forgetful of self did she sing that more than one of the girls nodded to her appreciatively, and even Miss Mary looked down and smiled.

After this, there were songs and recitations by the scholars, some of them Miss Mary's own class, and in these Martha took great pride. Later, the older ones from the primary class graduated into the main room, and after a few words from the superintendent, each was presented with a diploma tied with blue ribbon, and a red Bible. How happy the children looked as they went down, not to their old places, but to seats reserved for them among the main-school scholars!

The services closed by a short sermon to the children from the minister—at least he called it a sermon, but to Martha it seemed just a tender little talk from a big brother who loved his little brothers and sisters so that he could not keep his love from showing, and who loved the dear Jesus more than he loved them. Martha had never been talked to like this. She sat forgetful of everything, even the woolen gloves, and at times the minister turned her way and it seemed as though he looked straight into her heart. Occasionally he touched the lilies at his side, showing how one may grow like a lily, expanding to take in Jesus' love as the lilies do the sunshine.

Martha went home as though treading on air. She held the rather wilted spray of rose geranium, and the lesson leaf, and with them was one of Miss Mary's calla lilies, broken off clear down to the ground—"the loveliest of the whole five," the girls said; and Miss Mary had smiled so lovingly when giving it! And then the minister had come up and, laying his hand on Martha's shoulder, had said, "It seems to me this is the little girl who helped me preach to-day by paying such good attention." Then Miss Mary spoke her name, and the minister said, "You must come again, my dear." Oh, it was all like a beautiful dream, only nicer!

Reaching the little home up where the path terminated, Martha opened the unlocked door and passed in. The sunshine made a warm mat on the floor, and the cat was curled contentedly upon it. Martha took a yellow and red vase down from the clock-shelf and, filling it with water, put her lily and geranium branch into it, and placed it on the table covered by a red table cloth, and partly set for dinner. The effect was not quite as pleasing as she expected, but perhaps the rose geranium would lose its droopy look after a while.

Before taking off her hat, she opened the dampers of the stove, tilted the cover above the chicken simmering in its gravy and pulled the kettle further back, then opened the oven door to find it just right for the potatoes Jerusha had in waiting. All this done, she removed her hat and hung her jacket on a nail. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of herself in the little glass over the bureau. It was not pleasing to her. How grimy her face looked, compared with the other girls'! And their dresses had lace around the neck, or broad collars, or something.

Martha whirled around and, lifting the hand basin from its hook by the sink, she poured some warm water from the tea-kettle into it, carried it carefully to the sink, loosened her dress and set about giving her face and neck and hands a thorough scrubbing. This done, she drew a long breath. "Guess that fixes that!" she said. Then she took off the bit of soiled ribbon confining her braids, and taking down a comb from the comb-case near, dipped it into water and drew it carefully through her hair, after which she divided it into six strands and, giving each a little twirl, stood for a moment by the radiating stove. Presto! Six ropy curls danced up and down as their owner moved to and fro across the room, and as the sunshine fell over them their beauty lifted the little girl from out her plain surroundings.