[CHAPTER V]
ANGEL'S BIRTHDAY
IT was a bright, sunny morning, some weeks after that little service was held in Pleasant Place.
The sunbeams were streaming in at Mrs. Blyth's window, for the cobwebs and spiders had some time ago received notice to quit, and the dust had all been cleared away, and found no chance of returning.
Mrs. Blyth was a different woman. Her troubles and trials remained, and she had just as much to do, and just as many children to look after, but she herself was quite different. She had opened the door of her heart, and the Lord Jesus had come in. And He had brought sunshine with Him into that dark and ignorant heart. Life, instead of being a burden and a weariness, was now full of interest to Mrs. Blyth, because she was trying to do every little thing to please Jesus, who had done so much for her. Whether she was washing the children, or cleaning the house, or turning the mangle, she tried to do it all to please Him. She remembered that He was looking at her, and that He would be pleased if she did it well. It was wonderful how that thought helped her, and how it made the work easy and pleasant.
So, through the bright, clean window, the morning sunbeams were streaming on little Angel's head. Her mother was standing by her side, watching her as she lay asleep, and waiting for her to awake.
As soon as ever Angel opened her eyes, her mother said—
"Little Angel, do you know what to-day is?"
"No, mother," said Angel, rubbing her eyes, and sitting up in bed.
"It's your birthday, Angel; it is indeed!" said her mother. "I hunted it out in your grandmother's old Bible. It's the day you were born, just seven years ago!"