“Some people tell us that these things are not true. Others say they won’t last. My friends, I know, and many of you know, that they are true, and even if they were not to last, have we not even now ground for praise? Shall we not rejoice that the lifeboat has saved some, because others have refused to embark and perished? But we don’t admit that these things won’t last. Very likely, in the apostolic days, some of the unbelievers said of them and their creed, ‘How long will it last?’ If these objectors be now able to take note of the world’s doings, they have their answer from Father Time himself; for does he not say, ‘Christianity has lasted nearly nineteen hundred years, and is the strongest moral motive-power in the world to-day?’ The Blue Ribbon, my friends, or what it represents, is founded on Christianity; therefore the principles which it represents are sure to stand. Who will come now and put it on?”
“I will!” shouted a strong voice from among the audience, and up rose the powerful man who began the evening with “bah!” and “pooh!” He soon made his way to the platform amid uproarious cheering, and donned the blue.
“Hetty,” whispered Mrs Frog in a low, timid voice, “I think I would like to put it on too.”
If the voice had been much lower and more timid, Hetty would have heard it, for she sat there watching for her mother as one might watch for a parent in the crisis of a dread disease. She knew that no power on earth can change the will, and she had waited and prayed till the arrow was sent home by the hand of God.
“Come along, mother,” she said—but said no more, for her heart was too full.
Mrs Frog was led to the platform, to which multitudes of men, women, and children were pressing, and the little badge was pinned to her breast.
Thus did that poor woman begin her Christian course with the fruit of self-denial.
She then set about the work of putting her house in order. It was up-hill work at first, and very hard, but the promise did not fail her, “Lo! I am with you alway.” In all her walk she found Hetty a guardian angel.
“I must work, Hetty, dear,” she said, “for it will never do to make you support us all; but what am I to do with baby? There is no one to take charge of her when I go out.”
“I am quite able to keep the whole of us, mother, seeing that I get such good pay from the lady I work for, but as you want to work, I can easily manage for baby. You know I’ve often wished to speak of the Infant Nursery in George Yard. Before you sent Matty away I wanted you to send her there, but—” Hetty paused.