As spring came forward, the ordinary business of the day remained quite the same, but how many pleasant things I had to think of. Long division did not trouble me any more, neither did fractions; I was beginning to understand interest, and my handwriting had much improved. There was also a sensible difference in my outward appearance, and Jennie grew in loveliness each day. How proud I was of that little sister; and never did we go to church or Sabbath-school, but I wondered if mother could know it.
When the summer heats were on us there was less to do, and sometimes I got a walk with Jennie among the hills. A year had made a great difference with both of us, while the mountain was just the same; and we often thought of our last walk there, and of dear Mr. Kirby.
“If he could only know how kind Miss Grimshaw is to us,” said Jennie. “It is God that puts it into her heart, isn’t it? and not for our sakes, but for Christ’s sake. I used to think it was for mother’s sake; but Christ died for us.”
Dear little comforter; her heart was full of sweet thoughts, while I was ambitious for her; and this, together with Mr. Kirby’s words, kept me from being gloomy and desponding when I fancied Mr. Willett was impatient or exacting: “Do your work well, and God will open a path to something better.” This gave me courage and strength; so that while I worked in the present, I lived in the future.
One day I was sent to Esquire Clavers’ with a basket of groceries he had ordered. As I went up the walk, Frank, his oldest son, a boy of about my own age, was on the piazza, a spot embowered in roses and honeysuckles, reading; a little girl in a blue lawn dress, with long golden curls framing her face like a picture, reclined near him, her head resting on the neck of a large Newfoundland dog. From the open window the pleasant tones of a piano floated out on the air, and involuntarily I stopped to listen. Frank looked up, and seeing me, came down the avenue to meet me.
“What have you here? Oh, teas and things for mother. Do you like music? Come, go in and hear sister play.”
“I should be glad to,” I answered, “but I was told to return immediately.”
“Five minutes wont be missed; come in.”
“Not now, Frank,” for I thought of what Mr. Kirby had said; and handing my basket to the servant, I took up Frank’s book.
“What is this?” I asked.