Though she tried not to let Lance discover how hard she worked, he knew that her attendance on his mother must occupy the chief part of her time. His aim was therefore to relieve her as much as possible. Where there is a will there is a way. He soon learned to clean his shoes, and purchasing needles and thread and worsted, to mend his clothes and darn his socks; and Maddie was surprised to find one morning that his bed was made and his room set to rights, when she was sure that Dame Judkin had not gone into it. She found him out at last, and reproachfully asked why he had not given her his torn coat to mend, and a pair of socks which she had discovered darned in a curious fashion.
“I wanted to try if I could not do it,” he answered, smiling. “Just look at that sleeve—I defy it to tear again in the same place.”
“Perhaps so, but as every one can see that there has been a rent, I shall be accused of being a very bad tailoress, and I am afraid you will find an uncomfortable lump in the heel of your socks. Do, dear Lance, bring the next pair requiring mending to me, and I will find time to dam them.”
Few could fail to admire Madelene Hayward.
“How is our mother?” asked Lance, taking her hand, as he found her waiting for him in the porch of their little cottage.
“She has at last dropped off to sleep; but she has been in much pain all the day,” answered Maddie. “And, O Lance! I sometimes fear that she will not recover. Yet our lives are in God’s hands, and we can together pray, if He thinks fit, that hers may be preserved for our sakes—I cannot say for her own, as I am sure, resting on the merits of Him who died for sinners, she is ready to go hence to enjoy that happiness He has prepared for those who love Him.”
“But, Maddie, do you really think mother is so ill?” asked Lance, with an anxious look. “I know that when she is taken, the change to her must be a blessed one; but, Maddie, what would become of you?”
He spoke in a tone which showed the grief which Madelene’s announcement had caused him.
“I have not thought about myself,” she answered quietly. “My wish was to prepare you for what I dread may occur, and to ask you to join your prayer with mine that God will in His mercy allow her to remain longer with us. He can do all things, and the prayer of faith availeth much.”
“I am sure it does,” said Lance. “I will pray with you. I have too often prayed as a matter of form, but now I can pray from the bottom of my heart.”