"Oh, my dear, we won't talk of deserts," said the old woman, busily plying her needle. "Sure the good Lord don't think of our deserts when he gives to us, or we should be badly off."
"If it wasn't for mother," said Kitty, sobbing. "But how can I tell her? Oh, Mrs. Ryan, would you just go and see her first? It isn't that I am afraid," she explained; "but she will cry and feel so bad."
"Indeed and I will, then. But come you with me, honey," said granny, rising. "Poor dear! I don't wonder at it. Let me just step out and see that the cow is safe. And Nelly, you hold the light."
"Just see where the crooked path leads, Nelly dear," added granny, as she attended to Crummie's wants. "Here's poor Kitty, as smart a girl as ever lived, and with such a dale of schooling and all, afraid to face her mother on Christmas-eve, of all times in the year, losing as good a friend as ever a girl had (for Mrs. Powers has been all that to her), and all because she took to the crooked way,—because she put her hands to what wasn't hers, and turned her tongue to what wasn't true to hide the mischief. Oh, my dear, remember what your old granny tells you,—remember, whatever happens, that the blessing of God shines on the straight and honest path. Your granny left it once, when she spent the money that was not hers to spend, because it was honestly owing; and see what came of it. Only for the goodness of God, that raised us up friends in our trouble, we might be in the poor-house this blessed minute, instead of in our own home, with a good prospect of paying for it in time, and my Nelly loved and trusted, and earning her own living and more."
"I'm sure God is very good to us," said Nelly, with tears in her eyes. "I never thought we should be so well off."
"Ay, indeed is he," replied granny, with emphasis. "And it's ashamed I am to think how long I forgot him while I was dreaming and mourning over vanities and nonsense,—over an inheritance in Ireland, instead of an inheritance in heaven. Mind, Nelly, you are a lady born, for all that; but dear, it is better far to be a child of God than to be a grand-child of all the earls in Ireland. And now give me my fine new shawl and hood, till I go home with poor Kitty."
"Oh, granny," cried Nelly, struck with a sudden idea, "suppose you were to go to Mrs. Powers with her and ask Mrs. Powers to take her back and try her again? You know she is such a kind lady, and she always did like you. Do try."
"And that is a good thought; and there's no harm in trying," said granny. "Anyhow, Kitty will be none the worse off if I fail; and it will save the widow's heart from aching sore, if I succeed."
I am happy to be able to say that granny did succeed. Mrs. Powers had already begun to relent towards Kitty; and granny's eloquence and the little girl's tears prevailed. Mrs. Powers promised to take her on trial for another month; and it was in a spirit of true thankfulness and humility that Kitty said her prayers that night in the little room where she had so often gabbled them over or omitted them altogether,—the room in which she had never expected to sleep again.
I have little to add to Nelly's history. Before the next Christmas, the house was paid for in full; and Nelly had still something to spare for Christmas presents. That was seven years ago. You would hardly know the place now. The house has been enlarged and improved; the garden well planted, both with flowers and fruit. Nelly, a fine tall young lady, earns nine dollars a week, and might easily get more, but nothing will induce her to leave Mrs. Kirkland. She is forewoman now (for Miss Powell is married), and every thing passes through her hands. She has a large class in Sunday-school, and spends upon them more than ten cents out of every dollar she earns; for they are very poor children,—poorer than Nelly was when we first made her acquaintance.