“I’m sure I don’t know,” was the reply; “all I know for certain is, that I’ve been invited to tea at Thomas’s, at half-past six this evening.”
“So have I”—“So have I,” said the rest.
“There’s no mistake or hoax about it, I hope?” asked one of the younger girls anxiously.
“Nay,” said the one addressed as Mary Anne, “Thomas asked us himself, and he’s not the man to hoax anybody.”
Just at this moment the front door opened, and Bradly himself, full of smiling welcome, called upon his guests to come in.
A comfortable meal had been prepared for them in the spacious kitchen, and all were soon busily engaged in partaking of the tea and its accompaniments, and in brisk and cheerful conversation; but not a word was said to explain why they had been invited at this particular time. Their host joined heartily in the various little discussions which were being carried on in a lively way by his guests, but never, during the tea, dropped a hint as to, why he had asked them.
At last, when teapots and cups had disappeared, leaving a clear table, and the young women, after grace had been duly sung, sat opposite to one another with a look of amused expectation as to what might be coming next, Thomas rose deliberately from his arm-chair, which he had drawn to the head of the table, and looking round on the young people with a half-serious, half-humorous expression, said: “Well, I suppose, girls, it may be as well if I tell you what I’ve asked you here for this evening.”
No answer, but a murmur of amused assent being given, he proceeded:—
“Now, my dear young friends, I’ll just tell you all about it; and I’m sure you’ll listen to me seriously, for it’s a serious matter after all. You know that poor Miss Clara Maltby is gone from home to-day very ill, so ill that it mayn’t be the Lord’s will she should ever come back to us again. Now she has asked me to give you all and each a message from her—perhaps it may be a dying message. She sends it to every one as belonged to her class when she taught it. I’m going to tell you what she said, not quite in her own words, but just what I took to be her meaning.
“You know as she’s not taken her class for a good long time. We was all very sorry when she gave over, but it seemed as it couldn’t be helped, for she was getting weak and worn, and felt that coming to church twice on the Lord’s-day was as much as her poor mind and body would bear. But she wants me to tell you how she feels now she’s been letting earthly learning get too much hold of her thoughts. Not as there’s any harm in getting any sort of good learning, so long as you don’t get it in the wrong way. But it seems as this earthly learning had been getting too big a share of Miss Clara’s heart. I daresay you all know as she’s wonderful clever at her books. Eh, what a sight of prizes she’s got! Well, but she’d come to be too fond of her studies; they was becoming a snare to her; she’d made a regular idol of them, and could scarce think of anything else. She’d given them all the time she could spare, and more. And so it kept creeping on. These studies of hers, they’d scarce let her eat or drink, or take any exercise, or read her Bible and pray as she used to do. Ah, how crafty the evil one is in leading us astray! He don’t make us jump down into the dark valley at one or two big leaps, but it’s just down an incline, like the path as leads from Bill Western’s house to the smithy: when you’ve got to the bottom and look back, you can hardly believe at first as you’ve come down so low.