'Yes! yes! Oh, mother, can't he come to tea?'
So he came to tea. You would never have thought he was the same man, to listen to the jokes he made. He kept them laughing all the time. And sometimes I had to smile. And after tea the games he played with them! I never did meet any one who knew such a number of games. And just the very ones for children.
Of course, I knew what he was doing it for; and when he was going I told him so.
'I thank you very much, Mr. FitzHoward, for being so kind to the children, and to me.'
'Kind!' he said. 'Oh, yes, there's a lot of kindness about a man of my professional experience. Hard as nails that kind of thing makes you; hard as nails. I tell you what it is, Mrs. Merrett; you've the two cleverest and sweetest and prettiest children I've ever come across, bar none. Not that I wonder at it with such a mother as they've got. I envy you; and I envy them. But there--some people have all the luck.'
What he meant I can't say; some nonsense, I've no doubt. But whatever it was it seemed to do me good. As I put the children to bed I felt more cheerful than I had done all day. Until all at once Jimmy asked me when Daddy was coming home. Before I knew it the tears were in my eyes. It's strange how close they sometimes are; and that, in a manner of speaking, without your suspecting they're within a mile. Especially when you're weak and silly. I caught him in my arms, and said:
'Jimmy, you must ask God to send him soon.'
'But, mother, I'm always asking God to send him soon.'
That finished me. I was that stupid. I dare say I should have cried myself ill if it hadn't been that I found that I was frightening the children. They tried to comfort me; and when they found they couldn't, they started crying too. So then, because I couldn't bear to see them crying, I stopped. And we all knelt down by their bedside, and prayed God send home Daddy soon.
When I had put them into bed--and as soon as they were between the sheets they were asleep, the dears!--down I went upon my knees again and prayed God send me James. When I was a girl and went to Sunday-school, I remember hearing teacher talk about wrestling with God in prayer. I never knew what she meant until that night. If ever a poor, ignorant, helpless woman wrestled with her Maker that He might be merciful, and send back to her her man, I was that woman then. I'd been wicked; I knew that I'd been wicked; but it wasn't for want of trying to be good, and oh! I felt if He'd only send me James I would be good.