“Mr Walton,” she said, “I HAVE been trying not to be selfish. You have done me that much good.”
“I am very glad, Judy. Don’t forget who can do you ALL good. There is One who can not only show you what is right, but can make you able to do and be what is right. You don’t know how much you have got to learn yet, Judy; but there is that one Teacher ever ready to teach if you will only ask Him.”
Judy did not answer, but sat looking fixedly at the carpet. She was thinking, though, I saw.
“Who has played the organ, Judy, since your uncle was taken ill?” I asked, at length.
“Why, auntie, to be sure. Didn’t you hear?”
“No,” I answered, turning almost sick at the idea of having been away from church for so many Sundays while she was giving voice and expression to the dear asthmatic old pipes. And I did feel very ready to murmur, like a spoilt child that had not had his way. Think of HER there, and me here!
“Then,” I said to myself at last, “it must have been she that played I know that my Redeemer liveth, that last time I was in church! And instead of thanking God for that, here I am murmuring that He did not give me more! And this child has just been telling me that I have taught her to try not to be selfish. Certainly I should be ashamed of myself.”
“When was your uncle taken ill?”
“I don’t exactly remember. But you will come and see him to-morrow? And then we shall see you too. For we are always out and in of his room just now.”
“I will come if Dr Duncan will let me. Perhaps he will take me in his carriage.”