"What can I do for the poor children," I asked. "They want work."
"Well, give them something to do, and pay them with a basket of food. Mrs. Reynolds would hardly accept it as a gift. I will ride around that way when I am out, and see what can be done."
As I returned to the kitchen, I fairly taxed my ingenuity to find some employment suited to their capacities; but in vain. So I determined to appeal to Phebe. "My good Phebe," said I, "have you no work for these children who are so anxious to be employed?"
"Laws now missus!" answered Phebe, "It's no kinder use settin sich babies to work. There's heaps on em comes here a beggin. If missus would give em a cold bite now to carry to their sick ma, 'pears like dere'd be some use in dat ar."
I wish I could describe to you the anxious expression with which these poor little creatures regarded Phebe as she replied, as if they would implore her to answer more favorably. I saw that the good woman had no idea of the real state of the case, and taking her into the hall I explained to her that they had not been used to begging, and I did not like to break down the independence and delicacy of feeling, I so much admired. With a toss of her turban the truly kind-hearted woman signified that she fully understood me, and when I told her farther that her master was going out directly to the aid of their mother, she was ready to do her full part in assisting them. She stood one moment to think what she should set them about, as she expressed it, when her countenance brightened as she exclaimed, "Wal now, if that ar aint kind o' curus. There's me's been a tellin my ole man how desp't bad I wanted de brush picked up clean out dar in de orchard fore cold wedder comes; but laws, he never has no time for notting." When we returned to the kitchen, the brother and sister had finished their breakfast, and sat awaiting the important decision. I suggested that it would be well for them to carry something previously to their mother, and obtain her consent to remain through the day. She would thus be relieved from all anxiety concerning them.
As I committed the basket of food to the eager hand stretched out for it, I was struck with the expression of the child's countenance. It shone like that of an angel. Nor did I wonder at it, when gently pulling my dress she reached up to speak to me, and said, "I felt sure, ma'am, we should get some," glancing at the basket.
"Why, my dear?"
"Because this morning, I said, please God give me some bread for my poor sick ma."
"Were you sure, God would hear you?" I asked, wishing to hear farther. Looking up in surprise, she answered, while her eyes grew bright, "why you know ma'am, he says, 'ask and ye shall receive.' Ma told me that he says so in the Bible."
What a beautiful lesson of trust! I kissed them both and let them go. Phebe, whose sympathies were now thoroughly enlisted, followed them to the door, saying, "tell your ma, she shan't want for vittles while mass'r 'lows ole Phebe to save em for yees;" and then remembering what I had told her, she added, "tell her thar's heaps o' work o' waiting for yees."