“It’s awful to neglect the poor,” she said to herself. “Old Scott was very solemn. He’s a good man, is Scott, he’s a very religious man, he knows his Bible beautiful. He does everything by the Psalms; it’s wonderful what he finds in them—the weather and everything else. I asked him before the storm came yesterday if we was going to have rain, and he said ‘Read your Psalms and you’ll know. Don’t the Psalms for the day say “the Lord of glory thundereth”?’ and he looked at a black cloud that was coming up in the sky, and sure enough we had a big thunderstorm. It’s wonderful what a religious man is old Scott, and what a lot he knows. He wouldn’t say a thing if it wasn’t true. I suppose God does curse those who neglect the poor. I shouldn’t like to be cursed, and I did promise, and Dan will be waiting and watching. A little girl whom Jesus loves ought to keep her promise. Well, anyhow, I’ll get the apples ready.”
Sibyl rushed into the house by a side entrance, secured a basket and entered the orchard. There she made a careful and wise selection. She filled the basket with the golden green fruit, and arranged it artistically with apple-leaves.
“This will tempt dear little Dan,” she said to herself. There were a few greengages just beginning to come to perfection on a tree near. Sibyl picked several to add to her pile of tempting fruit, and then she went in the direction of the stables. Ben was nowhere about. She called his name, he did not answer. He was generally to be found in the yard at this hour. It was more than provoking.
“Ben! Ben! Ben!” called the child. Her clear voice sounded through the empty air. There came a gentle whinny in response.
“Oh, my darling Nameless Pony!” she thought. She burst open the stable door, and the next instant stood in the loose box beside the pony. The creature knew her and loved her. He pushed out his head and begged for a caress. Sibyl selected the smallest apple from the basket and gave it to her pony. The nameless pony munched with right good will.
“I could ride him alone,” thought Sibyl; “it is only two or three miles away, and I know the road, and mother, though she may be angry when she hears, will soon forgive me. Mother never keeps angry very long—that is one of the beautiful things about her. I do really think I will go by my lone self. I made a promise. Mother made a promise too, but then she forgets. I really do think I’ll go. It’s too awful to remember your promise to the poor, and then to break it. I wonder if I could saddle pony? Pony, darling, will you stay very quiet while I try to put your saddle on? I have seen Ben do it so often, and one day I coaxed him to let me help him.”
Just then a voice at the stable door said—
“Hullo! I say!” and Sibyl, starting violently, turned her head and saw a rough-headed lad of the name of Johnson, who sometimes assisted old Scott in the garden. Sibyl was not very fond of Johnson. She took an interest in him, of course, as she did in all human beings, but he was not fascinating like little Dan Scott, and he had not a religious way with him like old Scott; nevertheless, she was glad to see him now.
“Oh, Johnson,” she said eagerly, “I want you to do something for me so badly. If you will do it I will give you an apple.”
“What is it, Miss?” asked Johnson.