Whilst Ann Crompton was in the kitchen, she managed to speak some encouraging words to poor Elizabeth, and even to turn Sarah's saucy ways and ready jokes to some account.
"Bless you, child," she said, with a benevolent look at the girl's laughing face; "it's a good thing to enjoy a laugh now and then. I'm glad I haven't forgotten how to laugh yet, though I'm an old woman. Still 'Merry and wise' is a good motto. Folks sometimes laugh at wrong things. Mind, my dear, never you laugh if anybody tries to turn God's Word into a joke: put that sort of thing down, and have no friendship with those that do it. And don't you laugh at any joke that makes you feel 'shamed of having listened to it, and sends the hot colour into your cheeks, and forces you to turn away your head. We have to mind what sort of jokes we enjoy."
The warning words were said so pleasantly that they went home to Sarah's heart. Instead of "flying up," as she was wont to do at a sharp word from her mother, or the milder fault-finding of Mrs. Powell, the girl nodded her head assentingly, thanked Ann for her advice, and said, "I'll try to remember your rule. I have often felt vexed at myself for laughing at speeches that were not so very nice, when one came to look into them. I'm only a giddy thing, not like Elizabeth here, but I can bear to be spoken to when folks speak in the right way as you do."
The effect of Ann's story on Mrs. Powell was this: whilst the old woman was letting her humble light shine in the kitchen, the mistress of the house was on her knees seeking light and guidance from God.
She was feeling very much ashamed of herself. She had been calling her faithful servant "selfish," when the girl was giving up her own worldly interests at the call of filial duty. She had been fancying herself a very ill-used person, with more than her share of worries, just because there was a chance that her trip to the seaside might be deferred. She had made the morning meal uncomfortable to her good husband by her frowning face, her fretful words, her magnifying of a little molehill of trouble into a mountain. She had sent him away to meet his business cares, and the work belonging thereto, with the added weight of all her household difficulties as an extra burden.
Until she heard Ann's story she never thought of taking her domestic worries amongst the "all things" to the Throne of Grace. Never thought of asking that one of God's servants might be sent to fill the place that Elizabeth was about to leave.
Now, Mrs. Powell felt a longing to tell out her requests unto God, and the first prayer she offered was that her murmurings, fretful tempers, hasty judgments, and needless fault-finding might be forgiven. Next she prayed for grace to put away the spirit of selfishness that had made her consider only her own convenience, and that she might have a tender heart and the desire to bear the burdens of those around her, and so fulfil the law of Christ.
A little later Elizabeth was summoned by her mistress. She entered the room in some fear, for of late, no matter how much she tried, she had often failed to give satisfaction. But the kind look on Mrs. Powell's face encouraged her, and she could hardly believe her ears when her mistress said, "Elizabeth, I have been thinking about your wish to go home. I can understand how anxious you must be about your mother. Tell me plainly. Do you want to go to her at once?"
The girl burst into tears.
"O ma'am," she said, "you cannot think how grateful I should be if you could set me at liberty. I have been so miserable about poor mother, thinking that she is not getting the care and attention she needs. If she were to die I should never—"