“Shall not we thank him too?” said Mr. Kirby; and suiting the action to the word, he knelt, and placing one hand upon my bowed head, implored God, for Christ’s sake, to have compassion upon me, to make me a child of God, to forgive my sins, and to give me a teachable spirit, that I might be willing to be led, and might, through the influence of his grace, grow up to be a good and useful man.
This was the first time that anybody had ever prayed alone with me, save my mother; and it brought her so forcibly before me, that I could not keep down the sobs.
Going home, I asked Mr. Kirby if we should ever see him again.
“It is not probable,” he answered. “It is very possible that I may be sent abroad; and if so, we may never meet again; but whether we meet or not, I shall think of you, Marston, and pray that we may both live so as to meet in heaven.”
Jennie saw us coming, and bounded over the brook that ran at the back of the house and across the pasture to meet us, breaking out into a glad welcome, telling us that she had finished the book, and nearly hemmed the handkerchief. “Here it is,” holding it up for inspection.
“Very well done,” said Mr. Kirby, shaking it out, and examining it attentively. “Now, my little friends, I want you both to remember this day. It may be the last chance I shall have to speak to you alone. Do your duty wherever you are. Let your first question be, Is it right? and then never turn back, nor be discouraged. Do this, and you will advance, just as we did in climbing the mountain to-day, one step at a time; so by one act of duty at a time, one good purpose well carried out, success will follow.” Then putting his hand on each of our heads, “Give your hearts to Christ now; love and serve him. Wherever I go, I shall think of you, and shall hope you are workers for him, let your surroundings be what they may.”
III.
Full of my new resolves, I went about my evening’s work, followed closely by Jennie, telling me all the time about her book. While listening to the charming story, I forgot, and put brindle into the black cow’s place. No sooner done, than Mr. Jeffries, who had a quick eye, sent me spinning across the stable floor, and Jennie into the house and up to her attic, where I found her an hour afterwards, with tears still on her cheeks.
“Don’t cry about it, Jennie;” and I drew up a little rocking-chair I had made for her out of an old one, and took her in my arms. “It was careless in me; I should have seen what I was about.”