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JILL'S RED BAG

By AMY LE FEUVRE

Author of
"Probable Sons," "The Odd One," etc.

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New York Chicago Toronto
Fleming H. Revell Company
London and Edinburgh

Copyright, 1903, by
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
(April)

New York: 158 Fifth Avenue
Chicago: 63 Washington Street
Toronto: 27 Richmond Street W
London: 21 Paternoster Square
Edinburgh: 30 St. Mary Street

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CONTENTS

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

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Jill's Red Bag

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I

"WHAT CAN BE DONE WITH THEM?"

"Oh, Jack! do let her go! I'll make you if you don't!"

"Get away! She's an early Christian, and I'm seeing if she's a real one."

"It's Sunday, and if she screams much louder, they'll hear in the drawing-room."

"It's a proper Sunday game, and I don't care for anybody in the drawing-room!"

When Jack was defiant, Jill knew it was a hopeless case.

She sat on the back of a cane chair, her feet beating a tattoo on its seat; and a twinkle of amusement succeeded the marked disapproval in her big blue eyes when Jack proceeded to stuff his victim's head into a pillow-case.

Six-year-old Winnie, or Bumps, as she was called, was always a ready subject for her brother's ingenious mischief. She worshipped the ground he trod upon, and would promise to be all that he desired, until the experience of it proved too much for her endurance. She was at present gagged and bound with bedroom towels, antimacassars, and pocket-handkerchiefs combined. She had been rolled over and over on the floor, with Jack on the top of her, and now he announced in an offhand tone—

"She's going to be put into a sack and thrown into the river, and that will be the end of an early Christian."

"Where's the river?" asked Jill with interest.

"The bath-room, of course. Go and fill the bath."

Jill laughed, and started up to obey. The fun of such a prospect before her overcame her scruples. But in her haste she overbalanced herself, and came with a crash to the floor. Her screams united with Winnie's brought two people to the nursery, and the first one to open the door was a young man.

"Good gracious!" he ejaculated, "what a scene!"

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He might well say so. The nursery floor was covered with a medley of furniture, toys, and miscellaneous articles that clearly had no business there. In her fall Jill had caught hold of a tablecloth, and swept to the ground the remains of the nursery tea. Broken plates, a stream of milk, and bread and butter were mingled with the entangled bodies of the three children. Bumps had escaped from the pillowcase, but was rolling about screaming lustily; Jack was trying to extricate Jill out of the meshes of the broken chair, and a small terrier puppy was dancing to and fro, and worrying at everything in turn.

"Oh it's you, Captain Willoughby," said Jack, getting upon his feet. "It's a pretty mess, I'm afraid."

"You young scamp! I bet you are the originator of it! Your sister is wondering if the ceiling will withstand your onslaughts. Ah, here she is to speak for herself."

A pretty delicate-looking girl with dark hair and eyes and impulsive manner stood at the door.

"Oh, you children!" she exclaimed. "Where is nurse? And what are you doing? Don't you know you ought not to romp like this on Sunday?"

"Nurse is at her tea. She gave us ours too early."

Jill had struggled to her feet by this time, and was rubbing the back of her head ruefully.

Captain Willoughby was busy releasing Bumps from her bonds.

"It strikes me there has been a bit of bullying going on here," he said, eyeing Jack severely. "Is this the way you generally treat your small sister?"

"She likes it," asserted Jack eagerly. "On my honour she does—don't you, Bumps?"

"Yeth, I does!" sobbed his victim.

"Nurse has no business to leave you," said Mona Baron decisively, as she gave a sharp pull to the nursery bell. "Now, Jill, pick up some of these things at once. Why can't you keep Jack quiet? I don't know which is the worse of you. It is six of one and half-a-dozen of the other!"

She did not speak angrily, for these three pickles always afforded her considerable amusement. But she felt that a limit must be drawn somewhere, and when the nurse appeared, considerably ruffled by her sudden recall from the servants' hall, she was spoken to so sharply by her young mistress that she gave notice on the spot.

Mona went back to the drawing-room with Captain Willoughby.

"That makes the fifth nurse we have had in ten months," she said. "What can be done with them? They are too small to go to school."

"Can't you get a governess?"

"I suppose I must try. But I was made so miserable myself as a small child by one, that I resolved never to give them the chance of such an experience. I must talk it over with Miss Webb."

The nursery party up-stairs soon calmed down. Nurse restored order, and set the three delinquents in separate corners of the room. Her tongue was a powerful one, and she did not spare them.

"I shall be thankful to get out of the house, for never in my life have I seen such bold, owdacious children, and no respectable woman would stand it. Your sister ought to look after you herself, and then she'd know what you were like. She dances out to all her gaieties with that lazy Miss Webb, who's in a field of clover if any one is, and expects me to grind on in this four-walled room without a friend to keep me company. I would as soon be in prison, and I'm not going to stand it. And as for you, with your monkey tricks and your wicked ways, you want to be well whipped and placed in a reformatory. That's the place for the likes of you!"

No one dared speak. She talked on in the same strain for a good quarter of an hour, then dared them at the peril of their lives to move from their seats, and walked down to the servants' hall again.

"Sunday is a dreadful day," observed Jill plaintively. "I wonder what it was made for!"

"I s'pose God thought it would make people good," said Jack; "it may do grown-up people good, but it makes children dreadfully wicked!"

"Yes," assented Jill; "because there's nothing to do after church, and we're always shut up in this old nursery. When I grow up I shall live in a house without any doors, so that I can never be shut up anywhere!"

Jack looked across at his sister meditatively.

"Then what would you do when robbers came?"

"I'd run away, of course, stupid!"

"They'd soon catch you. We'll try it to-morrow. I'll be the robber, and you can leave all the doors open to give yourself a chance, and I'll give you five minutes' start."

"Me too!" exclaimed Bumps, removing her thumb from her mouth, which she had been contentedly sucking.

"Oh, you!" said her brother scornfully. "You can't even be an early Christian without screaming the house down! But you've done one good thing! Nurse is going, and a jolly good job too! Nurses are all rot!"

Jill shook her head doubtfully.

"We shall only have another worse than this one! I wish we could do without them, like the Clarkes. Their mother looks after them."

"That's because they're poor—George told me so."

"What's poor?" asked Bumps.

"It's having no money," explained Jill.

"But we haven't no money," argued Bumps.

"No, you little stupid, but Mona has. I heard nurse say she was an heiress, and that's an awfully grand thing to be, it's next to being a princess in a fairy-book."

"Now we've sat still long enough," announced Jack with a yawn. "We'll have a kind of 'Puss in the Corner.' Our chairs will be the corners. We can easily get back to them before nurse comes."

"It's Sunday," objected Jill again.

"Here's Miss Webb!" shouted Jack.

A stout, pleasant-faced lady came into the room as he spoke, and saved the situation, for restless Jack could never stay quiet for long.

The little Barons could remember neither father nor mother. Their mother had died at Bumps' birth, their father a year after. He had married twice, and Mona was the daughter of his first wife. Miss Webb, a cousin of Mr. Baron's, had taken charge of the household after his death; but when Mona had finished her education she came home, and when she came of age and inherited a good bit of money, Miss Webb still stayed on as her chaperon.

The children were fond of Miss Webb, though they did not see much of her, and their faces brightened at her appearance.

"Your sister asked me to come and see if order had been restored," she said, smiling. "Why, you are as quiet as mice! Now, why can't you always sit still like this?"

"We were just going to finish it," said Jill. "We've been here ages. Do you like Sunday, Miss Webb? We don't."

"I think I used to when I was a little girl," said Miss Webb, taking a seat by the nursery fire, and placing Bumps upon her lap.

Jack and Jill came to her side at once.

"Do tell us about it. What did you do?"

"My mother used to have me down-stairs in the drawing-room in the afternoon, and show me lovely pictures out of some books she had, and talk to me about them. I had no brothers and sisters, and I used to be allowed to dine with her and my father, and sometimes she sang to me. She had a beautiful voice, and she would play hymns for me to sing with her."

"Ah," said Jill, with a long-drawn breath and a wistful look in her eyes; "but then, you see, we haven't got a mother."

"But you have a nice kind sister," said Miss Webb, pity filling her heart for the children who had never realised a mother's love.

"Yes," said Jack; "Mona is very good, but she's always out, and she doesn't make Sunday nice to us."

"May we thing hymns in the drawing-room?" asked Bumps eagerly.

"Yes," said Miss Webb on the impulse of the moment, "you shall. Nurse has made you tidy, so come along, just as you are."

Down two flights of stairs they scampered, delighted at the prospect of leaving the nursery. They found Mona leaning back in an easy-chair by the fire. A butler was removing the tea, and Captain Willoughby was standing, hat in hand, saying good-bye. Mona's other Sunday visitors had taken their leave. She looked up astonished when she saw the children.

"Now, what are you doing, Miss Webb?" she said, laughing. "Bringing them in their right minds to express contrition for their Sabbath-breaking?"

"No," said Miss Webb quietly. "They are going to sing some hymns. I thought you would like to play for them."

Mona elevated her eyebrows.

"Wish I could stay to join you," said Captain Willoughby, "but I've promised my mother to take her to evening church. Au revoir!"

He departed. Mona got up from her seat and went to the piano. Then she twirled round on the music-stool and confronted Miss Webb.

"What new freak is this?" she asked, laughing.

Miss Webb looked at her gravely.

"We were wondering why Sundays should be such a trial," she said, "and Jill solved the problem. She said it was because they have no mother. I reminded them that they had you, and we finally bethought ourselves of hymn-singing down here."

Mona's laughing dimples faded away. She turned to the piano, her little sisters and brother clustered round her, and soon the sweet, childish voices were uplifted in song.

When bedtime came Bumps said ecstatically, "Thinging hymns in the drawn-room is nearly as nithe as thinging them in heaven!"

"When did you sing them there?" demanded Jack.

And Bumps replied promptly, "Before I wath a baby."

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II

"WE'RE TO HAVE A GOVERNESS"

"Miss Jill, your sister wants to speak to you."

Jill was curled up on the nursery hearthrug, reading a story-book, and sucking peppermints. She had a slight cold, and had not accompanied Jack and Bumps in their daily walk with nurse. She jumped up with alacrity.

"Where is she, Annie? Not in the drawing-room?"

"No, in the library," answered the nursery-maid.

Jill dashed down-stairs, and burst open the library door very noisily. She drew back when she saw a strange young lady in earnest conversation with her sister; and she was conscious of a rough head of hair, a buttonless shoe that was being trodden under heel, and some very sticky fingers.

Mona turned round.

"This is one of them, Miss Falkner. Shake hands with this lady, Jill."

Jill kept her hands behind her back.

"They're sticky," she said, staring at Miss Falkner in wonder.

"Never mind," said Miss Falkner with a smile. "You are fond of peppermints, are you?"

Jill stared the harder, then she said—

"How did you know? Cook gave them to me. She said they were good for a cold."

"You do look a little object," said Mona, drawing Jill to her, and smoothing her hair as she spoke. "She is the eldest, Miss Falkner, then comes Jack, then Winnie. They are very backward for their ages, I am afraid, but you will remedy that."

Jill's blue eyes scanned Miss Falkner up and down. "Who was she?" she wondered.

"Can you read, dear?" asked Miss Falkner.

Jill nodded.

"And write?"

Another nod.

Mona gave her a little shake.

"Speak properly, Jill. Where are your manners? You are like a little savage this afternoon. I am sure it is high time you had a governess to keep you in order."

Mona did not often speak so crossly.

Jill darted away from her with scarlet cheeks and flashing eyes. "Who is she? and what does she want?" she demanded passionately. "Is she a governess? Because, if she is, I hate her!"

Then flying out of the room she banged the door violently behind her, and raced up-stairs, never drawing breath till she reached the nursery. Here she flung herself down face foremost on the hearthrug, and when a little time later Jack and Bumps rushed in, they found her still muttering angrily to herself.

Jack at once flung himself on the top of her.

"You're in a tantrum! What have you been doing?"

Jill would not answer till she had extricated herself from his clutches. Then she sat up and tossed her long hair back from her flushed little face.

"We're to have a governess!"

"Hurray!" shouted Jack. "Good-bye to nurses, who are rotten rot!"

"And I've seen her," pursued Jill, shaking her head mournfully; "and I was rude to her, I told her I hated her, and she'll never forgive me. Mona was so cross, and then I was, and of course the governess will hate me back, and we'll fight from the very beginning!"

"What was she like?" demanded Jack.

"Like any other person," said Jill crossly.

"Is she coming to tea?" asked Bumps with round eyes.

Jill looked at her small sister scornfully.

"She's coming to breakfast, and dinner, and tea, for ever and ever; she's just like a nurse, only it will be lessons all day long, and punishments."

This depressing view had no effect on Jack.

"We can play truant," he suggested eagerly. "Boys do that when they go to school—at least in books they do. To be sure," he added thoughtfully, "they always come to a bad end and wish they hadn't, but before the end comes, it's jolly."

"Is truant a nice game?" asked Bumps.

Jill's brown eyes began to dance with mirth.

"So we will," she exclaimed. "We'll settle what to do at once. We must save up bits of cake and biscuits, and anything else we can stuff in our pockets, for we must have food."

"But," objected Jack, looking thoughtful, "it's winter, and I think you can only be truants in summer. You always spend a day in the woods and have a kind of picnic, and you must be in the country to do it, and we're in a town."

"What does that matter?" said Jill impatiently. "We'll show how we can truant. I'll think of the most splendid things when I'm in bed to-night."

All her ill temper vanished. Jill's thoughts in bed were the admiration of her brother. His brain was a quick and busy one, but nothing to be compared to Jill's. He laid the foundation for many a mischievous scheme, but it was Jill who took it up and worked it out.

Bumps was at present a nonentity, but she was a sturdy little follower, and would as cheerfully have tried to walk a tight-rope as to eat her dinner, had she seen the others attempt it.

"When shall we start?" pursued Jack—"to-morrow?"

"I don't know when she's coming," Jill replied.

"I think we shall have to do lessons with her one day first," said Jack, "because we shan't be proper truants unless we do."

"Oh yes, and if it's a very wet day we won't go."

It was a great disappointment to them when Mona came into the nursery that evening and called them to her.

"A very nice lady named Miss Falkner is coming to live with us," she began.

"I know!" exclaimed Jack. "She's a governess. Is she coming to-night?"

"Oh dear, no, not for another month, when we go down to Willowlands."

The children's faces fell. Willowlands was their country home, and it was only shut up for three months in the winter. They liked London best, and were always sorry when their time came to leave it.

Mona watched their expressive faces.

"You must try to be very good till she comes," she said cheerfully. "The time will soon pass. Jill, what made you so naughty this afternoon? I was quite ashamed of you."

Jill got very red, and twisted her hands together, as was her habit when embarrassed. Then she looked straight at her sister with a defiant sparkle in her eyes.

"Of course we don't like her," she said. "You've told us how you used to hate your governess, and we shall do it too."

"Oh dear!" said Mona with a smile and a groan. "I'm always so stupid when I talk to you. My governess was very different from Miss Falkner—she was a tall, grim, strict old thing, who never smiled. I've found you a very different kind of governess, and you will all love her, I feel sure."

"I wish she was coming now," said Jill gloomily.

"Why? What a queer child you are."

"It's only," explained Jack hastily, "we've settled to do something when she comes, and we don't like waiting."

"What is it?" asked Mona unsuspiciously.

"Oh, it's a secret," exclaimed Jill; "we aren't going to tell any one."

"I hope it isn't anything naughty. I wish you would try to be good. I can't think why you are always in mischief!"

She left them. Jill was up on the window-seat drumming her fingers on the pane.

"I wish," she said at length, "that the king would pass a law that for one day every child could do exactly what they liked, that they could be just as naughty as ever they wished to be. Why, there are crowds and crowds of things that I'm longing to do, only Mona would think it wicked!"

"And God would too," put in Jack, who in spite of his mischievous rollicking ways had occasional qualms of conscience.

Jill looked at him meditatively.

"I try and think God looks the other way sometimes when we're doing things. That's what I shall do when I have any children. I shall only look at them when they want me to! It's a pity this governess isn't coming soon; but we'll have plenty of time to save heaps of food for our truant day, and I'll think out some lovely things to do on it."

"I think," said Jack, "I'll keep the food in my play-box that locks up. Lumps of sugar will be a very good thing to save up."

"And treacle pudding," put in Bumps anxiously. She was only too eager to bring contributions to Jack's secret store. He kept his box in a corner of the nursery, and more than once had to interfere when Bumps was eagerly putting all kinds of her favourite puddings into screws of paper and attempting to stuff them in with drier and more suitable food.

This hope of "playing truant" did much to comfort them in the dread of possible lessons and punishments. Jill's programme for "truant day" grew more glorious as time went on, and when her imagination sometimes failed before Bumps' eager and original questions, Jack came to her rescue and threw himself gallantly into the breach.

"What shall we do if there are no blackberries or nuts in the woods to eat, and a mad bull has eaten all our food, and the sun has dried up all the ponds and rivers so that we can get no water? Why, you stupid, of course we'll go up to a cottage like beggars, and they'll give us some food."

Bumps nodded contentedly.

"We'll be proper beggarth, with no shoeth and stockingth, and we'll have no hat, and I'll tear a 'normouth hole in my frock!"

The time seemed to pass very slowly, but the month wore away, and then came the move into the country.

For the first few days after their arrival the children ran wild. Nurse was too busy unpacking and arranging things to heed them, and their adventurous spirits led them into every kind of mischief.

Then Mona was appealed to, and she made short work of nurse's complaints.

"I don't care what they do as long as they don't hurt themselves. Miss Falkner is coming the end of the week, and then she will be entirely responsible for them."

And so, after a long and tiring journey, when Miss Falkner arrived at the house, this is what she saw in the hall—

Bumps seated in a large copper coal-scuttle, which was suspended by a rope from the stair-railings above. Her face, pinafore and hands were covered with black coal-dust, for the contents of the coal-scuttle had been hastily emptied into the hall fire-place, and Bumps had taken her place without a thought of consequences.

Jack, with red and hot cheeks, was sitting astride of the balustrade and trying vainly to haul up his heavy load, being in danger of over-balancing himself with his exertions, and Jill, arrayed in all the coats and wraps that she could find, was ambling about on all fours making sudden rushes at the coal-scuttle, which was just high enough to swing over her head. All three children were screaming at the top of their voices, and when William the butler came forward to open the door, nothing that he could do or say seemed to have any result.

It was not till a very bright clear voice spoke that there was a sudden hush.

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"Are these my little pupils?"

Jill threw off her disguise and stood upon her feet. Jack scrambled down from his post, and Bumps was the only one that continued her occupation. She swung helplessly to and fro, and puckered up her face as if she were meditating a weep.

"Take me down, Jack," she whined; "I'm thy!"

Miss Falkner lifted her down.

"Now, what game is this, I wonder?" she said. "It looks most interesting; do tell me."

"It's a princess being rescued from a dragon," said Jack eagerly. "And I'm the one who saves her; I'm the prince!"

Miss Falkner smiled, and her smile emboldened Jack still further.

"Everybody is out," he informed her; "Mona and Miss Webb have gone to a party. We've had our tea, and nurse has gone down-stairs to have hers. She's going to-morrow, because you've come, and I'm jolly glad too! And if you make haste and have your tea, you can come back and be the old queen who has lost the princess. It's a jolly game. Jill and I made it up ourselves."

"I think I should like some tea very much," said Miss Falkner, following William up-stairs. "Won't you all come and talk to me while I have it?"

When Mona returned home just before dinner, she found the children clustering round their new governess in the school-room, whilst she related to them some childish reminiscence of her own. Their rapt attention proved she could interest them, and Mona said to Miss Webb triumphantly—

"I have succeeded at last in finding some one who will manage them."

Miss Webb shook her head doubtfully.

"Time will show," she said wisely.

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III

THE GOLDEN CITY

Another Sunday. The children had been to the little village church in the morning, and now after their early dinner were discussing plans for the afternoon in the school-room. It was a lovely day. The French windows were open, and the green lawn, with its fringe of young larches and birches at the bottom of it, looked very inviting to the little ones.

This lawn was their special property. It was not so smoothly rolled and cared for as were the two on which Mona had her croquet and tennis, but then, when cricket and rounders were as often the order of the day as anything else, it was not to be expected that its turf would be as well preserved. It belonged to the children, and their little feet used it well.

"Shall we be naughty or good?" questioned Bumps anxiously.

Jill screwed up her mouth and nose impatiently.

"Shut up, Bumps; you shouldn't ask such silly questions. Jack and I are going to be what we like. I don't think we shall want you at all."

"Oh, she can come if she likes," said Jack, "we may want her. We're going to play a proper Sunday game—one out of the Bible."

Jill looked at her little sister meditatively.

"She would make a good Joseph!"

"Yes," cried Jack, cutting a caper; "and there's the rubbish-pit in the backyard, she could never climb up without a rope."

"But there's the coat of many colours," said Jill slowly; "we must have that."

There was silence. Bumps looked slightly uneasy.

"The rubbith-pit is very dirty, and I've got my bestest frock on," she ventured.

Jill turned upon her severely.

"You ought to be thankful to be Joseph, Bumps. He was an awfully good little boy, you can't do wrong if you play at being him. S'posing if we told you to be Cain, how would you like that?"

"There's my striped red-and-blue jersey," broke in Jack, "we'll dress her up in that."

"Yes, go and get it quick, and I've got some yellow ribbon that Mona gave me; we'll twist it round and round, and it will look splendid!"

It was unfortunate, from the children's point of view, that Miss Falkner should take it into her head to come into the room just when Bumps was being arrayed in her many-coloured garment. They had taken it for granted that she would retire to her room for a long afternoon nap, after the custom of their nurse.

Bumps was quite happy now. She stood on a chair with beaming pride, whilst Jill wound her yellow ribbon round and round the coloured jersey, till she looked like some fat wasp.

Jack with his hands in his pockets was watching the proceeding impatiently.

"Hurry up, Jill—and, I say! we haven't half talked it out. How shall we manage to dip it in blood, and who's to be old Jacob?"

Jill was never at a loss.

"I'll be Jacob. I can easily be him, and we'll get a can of water, and one of Mona's red paints—the oil ones in the tubes—I'll soon make some blood."

Then Miss Falkner spoke.

"I did not mean to leave you so long, chicks, but I was looking in my box to see if I could find a story-book to read to you. I haven't been successful, but I thought we would all go out on the lawn and sit under the trees, and then I would tell you a story!"

The children's faces looked rather blank.

"We're having a game, thank you," said Jill slowly, striving to be polite.

"Why are you making Winnie such a guy? I think we must leave such games for week-days."

"Oh, but," said Jack eagerly, "this is a Sunday game; we're most partic'lar to play only Sunday games on Sunday. Mona likes us to."

But Miss Falkner showed a bold front.

"I cannot have it," she said decidedly; "take that jersey off, Winnie, and come out into the garden with me."

It was Miss Falkner's first Sunday. Her little pupils were still in awe of her, but their disappointment was great, and they followed her out into the garden with sullen, angry faces.

Yet when they were settled under a lime-tree with chairs and cushions, the sweet spring air and sunshine, and the singing of the birds, charmed their discontent away.

Miss Falkner could tell a story well, and they knew it. Bumps sat on a cushion at her feet, Jack lay on his back on the grass with another cushion tucked under his head, and Jill was curled up in a big wicker-chair sitting on her feet in true tailor fashion, as was her custom.

"Once upon a time," began Miss Falkner, "there lived two children who were orphans. They were a boy and a girl named Rufus and Cicely. They had no one to care for them and love them, for an old uncle with whom they lived could not bear children, and told them to keep out of his sight and way as much as possible. They used to spend most of their time out of doors, and would wander over the country day after day, taking their dinners in their pockets, and only coming home at bedtime. One day they went out feeling very unhappy. Their uncle had been very angry with them, and told them to be gone, and never come back again, for he was sick and tired of keeping them in his house. They walked on and on through a wood, and at last came out on the other side to the banks of a river which they had never seen before. Cicely was tired, so she sat down on the grass, and Rufus did the same. It was very quiet, and they soon fell asleep, but after a time they awoke with a start. An old man with a kind face and a grey beard was speaking to them. He held a letter in his hand.

"'This is a letter for you, dear children, from a King who loves you, and wants you to come to Him in His Golden City.'

"'For us?' said Rufus; 'it must be a mistake. No one loves us, no one wants us.'

"'My Master does. Read His message.'

"Rufus took the letter. His name and Cicely's were written upon it. He opened it. In golden letters which shone like the sun was written—

"'Come unto Me. Those that seek Me early shall find Me. This is the way, walk ye in it.'"

Jill sharp eyes were lifted at once to her governess's face.

"That sounds like a text," she said.

Miss Falkner made no remark, but went on—

"Rufus read the letter through again and again.

"'What does it mean?' he asked. 'Where does this King live? Where is the way to Him? We would like to go to Him if He wants us, would we not, Cicely?'

"'Oh, yes,' Cicely cried. 'Let us go at once. Show us the way.'

"The old man smiled.

"'Are you in earnest?' he asked. 'Do you really want to go to my Master? Then follow me. He has sent me to show you the way.'

"Then he led the children to the bank of the river, and told them to look across it. They saw on the other side a green hill with people walking up, and at the very top some glittering golden gates.

"'That is the Golden City,' he said gently. 'If you want real happiness it is to be found inside those gates; no pain, no unkindness, no disappointment ever finds its way there, and no sin.'

"He said these last words very solemnly.

"Rufus and Cicely began to feel uncomfortable.

"'We aren't altogether good,' they said.

"Then they looked about them with interest. They saw other children trying to cross the river; one boy was rowing himself across in a boat, another was building a bridge, some were standing on the bank hesitating. One little girl and boy bravely jumped in and began wading through it.

"'They will be drowned,' exclaimed Cicely. 'How shall we get across? In a boat?'

"The old man shook his head.

"'It is the King's wish that all travellers shall arrive at His gates with spotlessly clean clothes. Look through this telescope and you will see what is written above the gates.'

"The children looked through eagerly, and Cicely spelled out: '"There shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth."'

"'What does that mean?' she asked.

"'It means that no dust or dirt of any kind is allowed inside.'

"Rufus looked down at his boots and clothes, then at his sister's.

"'We are very muddy,' he said; 'how can we make ourselves clean?'

"'By plunging into this river and being washed,' the old man said. 'The King's Son made this river. It cost Him His life, but it was the only way travellers could be cleansed. Look up at that sign-post and read what it says.'

"Rufus read: '"Wash and be clean." "If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with Me."'

"'The river is the only true way to the Golden City,' the old man said. 'You will only be turned away at the gates if you arrive there without washing in the river. That boy you see building a bridge is very eager and earnest, but his clothes will be too travel-stained and dusty to allow him to enter the gates when he gets there. He has made a wrong start, and is trying to reach the Golden City in the wrong way.'

"'And the boy in the boat?' asked Rufus.

"'He is wrong too, he too has overlooked the first start of all. The King would never have placed the river there if He did not mean every one to go through it.'

"Then Rufus led Cicely down to the river.

"'We will go through,' he said. 'We want to be washed clean.'

"Cicely was rather frightened at first, but the river was not deep, and when they clambered up the other side, they found to their delight that their clothes were new and fresh and clean. Then they started walking up the hill.

"It was steep and stony, but they kept their eyes fixed on the golden gates, and presently they found their old friend by their side again.

"Other people were climbing the hill, but many had never been through the river, and they were so dusty and shabby that their chance of entering the city was small indeed. Suddenly Cicely, who had been walking carelessly, stumbled and fell. She picked herself up, but her clean frock was soiled. She began to cry.

"'I can't keep myself clean,' she said; 'what shall I do?'

"The old man took hold of her hand and showed her a little stream running along by the side of the path.

"'It comes from the river,' he said, 'and is always close to you. You can wash in it whenever you get yourself dirty.'

"So Cicely dried her tears and quickly washed away her stain, and she went on happily with her brother. They walked with other children a part of the way; sometimes they found themselves alone; sometimes the path was rough, sometimes easy, and after a long, long time they reached the Golden City. It was a happy day for them then. They were tired, but they forgot their troubles when they saw the lovely gates. Two shining angels stood by the entrance, and they only let those in who had been washed in the river. They were the only ones who arrived in clean clothes. The others sadly turned away. Then Rufus and Cicely saw the King Himself. He came to meet them, and His look and smile was wonderful. I cannot tell you what He said, but He put His hands upon their heads and blessed them, and they followed Him up the golden street."

Miss Falkner paused. There was a short silence, then Bumps remarked reflectively—

"That was Jesus; no one puts their hands on children's heads and blesses them except Him!"

"It's a sort of parable, isn't it?" asked Jack. "I don't like parables, they make me feel so muddled. I love the Pilgrim's Progress if nobody tries to explain it. But it gets so mixed up when they do, that it's quite spoilt!"

"Would you like me to explain my story?" asked Miss Falkner gently.

"No," said Jack promptly.

"Yes," said Jill, in the same tone.

"We ought to be all journeying to the Golden City every day," said Miss Falkner. "I have only told you about the start, because I wanted you to make the right beginning. Perhaps some of you have started, have you?"

The children made no answer. Jill uncurled her feet, and her big questioning eyes were fixed intently upon her governess.

"I haven't started," she said abruptly.

"The King wants you quite as much as He wanted Rufus and Cicely," Miss Falkner said softly; "He wants all three of you."

"But where's the river?" asked Jack.

"Jesus Christ is the Water of Life, His blood that He shed will wash you whiter than snow. You must go to Him and ask Him to cleanse you, and then you will be able to start on your journey."

"I like journeys," announced Bumps, only dimly understanding the allegory, "partic'ly when we have thandwiches."

Jack rolled over on the grass.

"It will be a first-rate game," he said, rising to his feet; "I think better than Joseph!"

Then he caught sight of an early butterfly, and in a moment was off across the lawn in pursuit of it.

The little party broke up. Bumps trotted after Jack, but Jill betook herself to their hammock. Here she swung herself to and fro wrapped in deep meditation. The Golden City had entranced her. For the first time in her little life she began to long to be good, and later on that day, after she had been put to bed, Miss Falkner heard her murmur in her sleep—

"I'll start to-morrow!"

[!-- H2 anchor --]

IV

"LET'S BE TRUANTS!"

But to-morrow found her with different intentions. She awoke at six o'clock, the birds were singing, and the sun was streaming through the yellow blinds, bathing the room in golden light.

Jill and Bumps slept in a room leading out of Miss Falkner's, Jack had a small room across the passage. Softly Jill stole out of bed and peeped out of the window. It was a morning that would tempt any one out of doors. She saw a bright blue sky and sunny meadows. The fresh green trees, the spring flowers, the sweet scents of early morning all seemed to say, "Come out and enjoy us!"

Jill's cheeks grew rosy at a thought that flashed through her brain.

She opened the door softly and crossed the passage. Turning the handle of Jack's door she whispered, "Jack! Are you awake?"

Jack sprang up at once.

"Of course I am. What do you want?"

"Let's be truants to-day."

"Oh, jolly! When? How?"

Jill came in and sat on the bottom of the bed.

"We must go before breakfast, or we shan't be able to get away without being seen. Miss Falkner sends Bumps and me down at half-past seven, and breakfast isn't ready till eight, so we shan't be missed. You get the food ready and dress as quick as you can."

"And where shall we go?"

"Anywhere. What does it matter? I'll go back and wake up Bumps and tell her."

Jill crept back to her room, and Bumps, a sleepy fat bundle, was shaken into consciousness.

When she understood she was delighted, and was full of fuss and importance at once.

"I'll take my best china mug on the mantelpiece to get some water from a thtream; and do you think I might take a umblella, because it might come on a thunderstorm; and thall I take my thpade and bucket I took to the thea?"

"Hush," whispered Jill; "you'll wake Miss Falkner. You needn't take anything, you little stupid! Keep quiet, and do what I tell you."

Bumps was not crushed. She kept up an incessant stream of shrill whispers till Jill refused to respond, and then she confided the whole plan of action to a beloved rag doll that she always took to bed with her.

It was hard to keep the secret from Miss Falkner, who always helped them to dress, but at last they were dismissed, and scampered down-stairs. Jill had quietly conveyed their hats and boots into the passage before-hand, so they had no difficulty in getting themselves ready for their day out.

Jack joined them in the hall below. One of the maids noticed them but thought they were going into the garden, which indeed they did, though they did not stay there.

"We will walk along the road till we come to a nice field," said Jill, who was taking the head.

"And now we've really begun to truant!" said Bumps importantly; "but please don't go so fatht!"

"Hurrah!" shouted Jack, throwing his cap into the air and catching it; "we're going to do no horrid lessons to-day!"

They tramped along, Bumps getting hot and breathless with her eager resolve to keep pace with the others.

"My legs is so short!" she panted ruefully; "pleath let me hold your hand, Jill."

Jill seized hold of her impatiently.

"You must be quick, Bumps, or else they'll find out we've gone, and run after us. Now, Jack, let us go across this field, it leads down to the river, and no one will find us there because the trees are so thick."

The grass was wet, but that was a trifle. Buttercups were already springing up in the meadow; larks were rising in the air singing their morning hymn of praise, and the children broke into a run. Not a shadow fell on their spirits, they felt exhilarated by the fresh morning breeze.

They reached the river and then began to think of breakfast. Jack with great pride produced his store. It was rather a fragmentary one. Two or three figs, some bits of cake and one orange were divided into three equal portions. The novelty of such a breakfast compensated for the quantity and quality. But when Bumps announced she was thirsty they looked rather dismayed.

"You must drink from the river," said Jill.

"But I might thwallow some fishes," objected Bumps, "and I've no cup."

"Then you must wait till we go home. You can't be thirsty early in the morning."

Bumps heaved a sigh, and looked at the river meditatively.

"It would be nithe to take off shoes and stockings, and go through it like the children Miss Falkner told us of."

"Oh yes, we will," cried Jack. "We'll play at going to the Golden City."

Jill looked grave.

"I meant to start really to-day," she said, "but it's no good now, because we're doing a wicked thing to play truant, and you have to be good when you're walking to the Golden City. I mean to be double good to-morrow to make up."

Jack was already pulling off his shoes and stockings; his sisters quickly followed his example, and for half-an-hour or so they had a delightful time in paddling about. It is true that Bumps fell with a splash once, grazing her hands and knees against the stones and soaking her dress and pinafore, but Bumps' tumbles were so frequent that they passed unnoticed. When they were tired of this pastime they crossed two or three more fields and then climbed up into some steep woods. They were very hot and tired when they reached the top, and sat down to rest.

"We've done nothing exciting yet," complained Jill. "I thought truants always met with lovely adventures."

"Let's have our dinner," suggested Jack, "I'm sure it's time." So again Jack's hoard was brought out, and more bits of cake and biscuits and miscellaneous scraps were divided round.

"I wonder what Miss Falkner is doing," said Jack, "do you think she's hunting for us?"

"Oh, don't think of her. Come on, we must make some adventures. This is very dull."

"We'll all climb a tree," said Jack, "and pretend we're Charles II. hiding in an oak."

Bumps looked a little anxious, but Jill eagerly assented. A suitable tree was found, and up went nimble Jack, followed by Jill, who was quite as good a climber as he was.

Bumps tried her best, but failed entirely, so she sat down on the grass and cried.

Jill took pity on her, and came down to assist her. With the greatest difficulty she was hoisted up, but when she was comfortably settled on a big branch, her little face shone with pride and contentment.

"It's my legs again," she said, looking down upon them with pity; "they is so short, and—and inconven'ent!"

"Hush!" cried Jack, "here's a wild beast coming, look out! Oh, look, look, it's a deer!"

It was indeed a stag, that had wandered out of a private park near. The children had never seen one so close before.

Their movements startled the timid animal, he threw his head up, scented and then saw them, and in a moment he had dashed away through the bushes. In another moment Jack and Jill were down on the ground and racing after him.

Bumps again was left behind, and she lifted up her voice and wept a second time.

"I can't get down! Oh, Jill, come back! Take me down! I'm frightened!"

But no Jill came back, and poor Bumps sobbed away, clinging hold of the branch with her hot little hands and regarding the distance down to the ground with terrified eyes.

It seemed hours to her before any one passed her way, and then suddenly a young man with a gun across his shoulder, and a couple of dogs, came into sight.

"Man! man!" cried Bumps frantically. "I'm left behind. Come and take me down, oh, pleath take me down!"

He started and looked up at her in astonishment, then a smile crossed his lips.

"A baby in a tree! How on earth did a small mite like you perch yourself up there?"

"I've been lefted!" sobbed Bumps. "They've run away, and I'm lotht!"

The young man laughed, then sprang up the tree, and in another minute Bumps stood on firm ground once again.

"Thank you," she said prettily, her face wreathed in smiles. "Now pleathe help me find Jack and Jill."

"Oh no!" ejaculated the young man; "that I refuse to do. I'm in a hurry. If you come along with me I will put you in the road again, and then you will soon find your way home."

Bumps trotted after him quite reassured, talking fast all the time.

"We're having a truant-day, and I've got to stay out till tea-time—Jill thaid so. It is such a long day, and I'd like to go back to Miss Falkner—she's our governess. She takes me in her lap, and I like her. Does your gun go off? Are you killing any one? Jack likes guns. I don't! Jill and him have runned after a deer with horns. I'm thorry I couldn't run after it too. But I think I'll go home by myself, I'm tired of being a truant."

She talked on to her new acquaintance till they reached the road, then he came to a standstill.

"Now where do you live? Can you find your way home?"

Bumps looked about her, then put one finger in her mouth and considered.

"I don't know this road, I'm afraid," she said slowly.

"Where do you live, child?" the young man asked impatiently.

"I live at home," said Bumps with dignity.

"What is your name? Your mother's or father's name?"

"Oh, they went to heaven years ago, we never talks about them. My name is Winnie, but I'm called Bumps."

"And your other name?"

"Winnie Baron."

The young man whistled slowly.

"I see light at last. I know your sister, Miss Baron. You have just come down from London. I'll see you home."

He seemed as anxious now to accompany Bumps back as he had been before to get rid of her.

She was perfectly content to follow him.

"You're a keeper, I expect," she said presently. "We've got two, and I'm dreadfully frightened of Andrew, he is tho croth, he won't let us go into his wood at all. But Barker is very nithe. He has a little boy who tumbled on the fender and had to have his forehead thewn up with needle and cotton! Fanthy that! And he has the cotton in him now!"

Half-an-hour afterwards Bumps and her friend were at the hall door, and Mona came hastily forward to meet him.

"Oh, Bumps, how naughty! We have been looking for you everywhere! Where are the others?"

Then as the young man raised his hat and stepped forward, Mona held out her hand.

"Sir Henry Talbot, is it not? I met you, I think, at Mrs. Archer's the other day. How very kind of you to take pity on my small sister. Do come in. We are just going to have lunch."

"I thought he was a keeper," said Bumps, staring at her sister gravely. "Do you know him, Mona?"

"Run along up-stairs to Miss Falkner. She has been out all the morning looking for you. I hope she will punish you all. You deserve it."

Mona turned sharply away into the drawing-room, and Sir Henry followed her willingly.

Bumps toiled up-stairs, feeling sore-footed and heavy-hearted. What would Jack and Jill say if their day was spoilt because of her? And what would Miss Falkner say? Great tears filled her blue eyes, but she opened the school-room door and walked in bravely.

Miss Falkner met her with a smile of relief.

"Oh, Bumps, where have you been?"

Bumps ran to her and buried her head in her lap.

"I'm thorry," she sobbed. "We were truants, but I've come back, and the others are lotht!"

"Where did you leave them? It was very naughty to go away as you did. Now tell me all about it."

Bumps tried to check her tears.

"I'll never do it again," she said. "They left me up a tree, and I oughtn't to have come back at all. Jill thaid we motht thtay out till tea-time. She'll be angry, and Jack too."

"Where are Jack and Jill?"

"I don't know. They ran away after a deer and never came back; and I waited till a man came by, and he broughted me home."

No more could be got out of Bumps, who began crying again. Miss Falkner saw she was tired and hungry, so she wisely said no more, but gave her some dinner, and then made her lie down on her bed, where she soon fell fast asleep.

Meanwhile Jack and Jill were hunting high and low for Bumps. They pursued the deer with such zeal that they missed their path in the wood, and could not find their tree again.

"Oh, let us leave off looking," said Jack, impatiently, "we shall lose all our day, Bumps is sure to find her way home."

"We can't leave her," said Jill. "She's always a bother when we bring her out. I wish we had left her behind."

But they continued their search. And at last they found the object of it, but no Bumps. Jack climbed up the tree and they shouted till they made the wood ring again, but no answer came.

"She's gone home," said Jack decisively. "We'll just enjoy ourselves without her."

"I think being truants is very dull," admitted Jill.

"I'm not enjoying myself a bit as I thought I should. We have no adventures, and nothing has happened."

"We've lost Bumps."

"Yes, so we have. But that isn't fun to us. It's only fun to the one lost. She may be having heaps and heaps of adventures!"

"What shall we do now?"

"Oh, there's nothing to do but just walk on and see what comes."

Nothing did come. They walked right through the wood, which was a small one, and then got over a hedge into a field. Here they met a small boy carrying a milk-can.

Jill stopped him. "I'm dreadfully thirsty," she said. "Could you give me a drink?"

"Go to your mammy!" the small boy said rudely.

Jill was hot tempered. The scornful tone enraged her. She flew at the boy like a small whirlwind and knocked him down. Over went the can of milk, and the boy stood up at once to fight. Jack pushed Jill aside.

"I'll settle him! I'll teach him manners!" he cried.

Jill climbed a gate-post to watch results. It was not Jack's first fight, and she felt confident that he would come off victorious. She cheered him on lustily, and longed to be in the fray herself. But the small boy proved to be a better pugilist than Jack, and Jill was filled with dismay when she saw Jack thrown violently to the ground, his opponent sitting on his chest triumphantly.

"Will 'ee have some more?"

"Get up," said Jack sullenly.

"Not till 'ee pays me thruppence for that there milk."

Jill dived into her pocket and threw three coppers at the boy.

"I shall tell Mona, and she'll have you punished for fighting us, you wicked boy!"

The victor laughed, slung his can over his shoulder, and ran off. Jack raised himself from the ground with difficulty.

"He's given my head such a bump on the ground," he said, "that I feel quite queer."

"Your nose is bleeding, and oh! you'll have such a black eye! And your shirt is torn, and your collar bursted away!"

"Shut up," growled Jack; "he was like a bullet to hit. I believe he must have a wooden body. Let's find a stream of water, and then I can wash my face!"

They went into another field and found a stream. When Jack had put himself tidy he said slowly—

"Do you know I think we'd better go home. It isn't going to be much fun to-day, I can see. We ought to have had heaps of adventures, and we haven't had one."

"All right! It must be nearly tea-time. I do hope Bumps is all right!"

They trudged home. Jill would not acknowledge that the day had been a failure, but then she had not been vanquished in a fight. Jack had, and his spirit as well as his body was sore in consequence.

It was four o'clock when they reached home. They stole softly up-stairs, but were met by Miss Falkner on the top landing.

She looked at them in silence, then she said—

"I hope you have both enjoyed your day."

Jack shuffled into his room and shut his door without a word.

"Is Bumps home?" Jill asked in a shamefaced way.

"Yes, quite tired out, poor mite. If you put yourself tidy, Jill, I will have tea earlier. You look as if you want it."

Not a word of blame or reproach!

Jill went into her bedroom with a little lump in her throat.

"I haven't really enjoyed myself," she said, as she gazed at her untidy little self in the glass. "I think it would have been much better if I had started for the Golden City this morning, instead of playing truant."

[!-- H2 anchor --]

V

"A VERY SOLEMN VOW!"

It was Miss Falkner's custom to read the Bible every morning before she began lessons with the children.

She did not choose long chapters, but with a few words at the end tried to make them interesting to her little pupils.

One morning the subject was Jacob's flight from home. Jill was keenly interested in it.

"What did Jacob mean by giving a tenth to God?" she asked after reading in her turn the last verse of the chapter.

Miss Falkner explained it.

"You see," she said, after telling them of the Jewish custom, "all the money that we have really comes from God. And those of us who are trying to be His servants feel we are given it to use for Him. But even so it is nice to put apart a tenth to use especially for His work down here. A tenth means a penny out of every ten, or a shilling out of every ten, or a pound out of every ten, just as we have it given to us."

Jill's mouth and eyes were open wide.

"And if you have only nine pennies?" she asked.

Miss Falkner smiled.

"Wait till you have ten," she said.

"And what must you do with the tenth?" asked Jack; "put it into the plate at the church?"

"Not always. I think it is nice to keep a little bag or box. A great many people keep a missionary-box and put their tenth in that. Sometimes you can buy something for very poor people. There are such lots of ways of spending money for God. Now we must begin lessons."

The Bibles were shut up, but the seed was sown. That afternoon, when lessons were over, the children ran out into the garden to play.

Jill's face was full of earnest resolve.

"Let's come into the plantation," she said, "I've a lovely plan in my head; only first we must look about for some big stones."

The plantation was a fir-tree one, and edged one side of the garden. Fortune seemed in Jill's favour, for near the plantation was an old stone wall which had been partially removed.

"Now," said the little leader, "we must carry some of these right into the middle of the plantation. Into a dark corner where no one will see us."

"What for?" asked Jack.

He never obeyed unquestioningly.

"I'll tell you in a minute. I think perhaps we ought to have three heaps of stones, only it will take so long. No, one will do, and we must all three share it."

They set to work, found a corner under a tall old pine, and soon had a very respectable heap of stones collected together.

Then Jill volunteered her explanation.

"Of course, Jack, if you don't want to, you needn't, and Bumps needn't either, but I'm going to do it. This is going to be a kind of Jacob's pillar. I've been thinking of it a lot, and I'm going to do what Jacob did."

"Run away from home?" asked Jack, his eyes lighting up with eagerness.

"No, of course not. I'm going to give a tenth of my money to God, and I must have a proper place to do it in."

"Oh," said Jack, his face falling a little; "and you want me to do it too."

"You ought to," Jill said severely.

"I will if Jack does," said Bumps in her breathless way, "I have five pennies!"

"You see me do it first," said Jill; "and then you can make up your mind. It's a very solemn vow, so I must have the stones properly put."

"Yes," said Jack suddenly, "and there was the oil, you know. Jacob had some oil, it's no good without it."

"Bumps must go and ask cook for some; she'll always give her anything."

Away ran Bumps. Jack began to take a keener interest in it.

"Are you going to get very good, Jill?" he asked, looking at his sister critically.

"No," said Jill, "I'm quite sure, however much I want to be good, I shall always be very wicked. But, Jack, I've quite made up my mind to walk to the Golden City; I began the day before yesterday."

"Have you been through the river?" asked Jack in an awed whisper.

"I'm not going to talk about it," said Jill. "Miss Falkner helped me when I was in bed to start right. I'm not quite sure about the road, but I think I'm on it. And anyhow I'm quite determined to give a tenth. Now here comes Bumps. Hooray! She's got the oil!" Jill capered with delight, then checked herself. "I'm going to be properly solemn," she said, "for it isn't a game at all, it's a—a—vow!"

She arranged the stones a little more carefully.

"This will have to stay just as it is for years and years and years, in fact for ever," Jill announced. "When I'm an old woman with a stick and a cap I shall be led out here by all my great-grandchildren, and I shall look back and remember this day."

"That sounds lovely," said Jack admiringly. "Do begin, here's the oil!"

Jill took the bottle, but first she marshalled Jack and Bumps to a respectful distance from her altar.

"You can look on, because it will be your turns next, and there must be no laughing, because I'm in awful earnest. I've brought my Bible out to say the words properly. I shall take some of the oil, and leave you the rest."

Very gravely and deliberately Jill poured the oil on the top stone, then holding her Bible in both hands for an instant, she looked up into the blue sky above her, and then in a clear, distinct voice she read—

"And this stone which I have set for a pillar shall be God's house; and of all that Thou shalt give me I will surely give the tenth unto Thee."

There was a dead silence for a minute, then she turned to her witnesses.

"Say 'Amen,'" she commanded.

The "Amen" was fervently and loudly uttered.

Jill walked away and sat down under a tree.

"Don't speak to me," she said; "after a vow you must be quite quiet for five minutes. Now, Jack, it's your turn; you know what to do."

Jack looked a little frightened.

"It's like service in church," he confided to Bumps; "are you going to do it, Bumps?"

"Oh, yeth, I'll do it," assented Bumps cheerfully, "if you does."

"I suppose I'd better."

Jack walked up to the stones and took up the bottle. He poured some oil out, then followed Jill's example and read the verse out as bravely and loudly as he could.

Jill and Bumps uttered an emphatic "Amen," and Jack came back to his tree and sat down, heaving a great sigh of relief as he did so.

"Go on, Bumps," he muttered.

Bumps trotted up to the stones then looked helplessly round.

"I don't know what next," she said.

"Pour out some oil."

"It's a fat cork—oh! ah! it's thpilt itthelf down my pinny!"

Jill dashed up to her.

"You always spoil everything, you little stupid! Here! give the bottle to me, why, there's hardly any left! Now take it and pour it out properly, and don't keep talking so; be solemn!"

Bumps looked agitated.

"The Bible, Jill! Find the place quick! Oh, I shall never be ready! And Bible words is so hard to read. I'm 'fraid I shall never do it prop'ly. And you said the verth like thaying your prayers. Hadn't I better kneel down to make it more proper to God?"

Bumps was earnestly trying to do her best.

Jill found the verse, and left her.

"You can kneel down if you like. It is a Bible prayer, of course, but you must do it by yourself. It's a vow to God, that's what it is."

[!--IMG--]

Bumps knelt down, holding the Bible devoutly in her little fat hands. She read the verse haltingly, but her whole soul was in it, and she rose from her feet triumphant.

"I've never," she confided to Jack, "thpoken to God out of doors before. He is sure to have heard me, isn't He? Did I do it quite proper, do you think?"

Jack assured her she had managed it quite satisfactorily.

Then the three children stood and looked at each other.

"The next thing," announced Jill, "is to divide our money into tens. We have done the vow, but that's only the beginning. And we mustn't tell anybody about this place, and the stones mustn't be touched, and we must call it what Jacob did—Bethel!"

"Let's put it up somewhere," said Jack.

"Yes," said Jill eagerly; "we will get a board like a trespassers' board, and chalk it with that lovely piece of white chalk you have in your paint-box."

"But where shall we get a board?"

"Sam will make us one."

Sam was the house-carpenter who was always at work on the premises. The children loved him, for he made them many a little trifle, and he was always ready for a chat.

They marched off at once to find him, and came across him taking some planks out of his wood-shed.

Their want was soon made known. Jill was always emphatic and clear in her utterances.

"A proper trespassers' board, Sam, like you put up in the pheasant-covers last week, and I should like you to paint, 'Trespassers will be prosecuted,' to keep people away, only you must leave room for the name on the top."

"Let him paint the name too," suggested Jack, "it would look better than chalk."

Jill looked doubtfully at Sam.

"Could you paint the word 'Bethel,' Sam? I'll tell you how to spell it."

Sam grinned.

"I reckon I could, missy. You show me where you want it put, and I'll do the job!"

"But you promise on your honour you won't tell, because it's a great secret, and we don't want any one to know where it is."

"I'll be as dumb as a dog," said Sam. "Show me the spot, and be sharp, missy, for I'm extra busy to-day!"

The children led him into the plantation.

He smiled when he saw the heap of stones.

"So this here is a Bethel, is it?"

"I don't believe Jacob put up a trespassers' board," said Jack with a knowing shake of his head; "it will look very funny, Jill."

"It's to be done," said Jill. "I won't have people coming, and making fun, and pulling our stones about, and if they do come, I shall prosecute them!"

Bumps looked at her sister in awe.

"Will you thend them to prison?" she asked.

"But what is it for?" asked Sam, peering on the stones and seeing the marks of the oil; "be you going to make a sacrifice?"

"No," said Jill solemnly; "you never laugh at us, Sam, so I'll tell you; and if you like to join us you shall. It's a vow we've made to God. You can read about it in your Bible if you like. We're going to be like Jacob, and give God a tenth of our money."

Sam scratched his head.

"I'll make the board, missy, but I can't promise to jine you."

"Well, make it as quick as you can, and if you read about Jacob like Miss Falkner and us, you'll want to do it too!"

Sam did not respond, but he promised to make the board, and the children, hearing their tea-bell ring, ran off to the house.

They did not tell Miss Falkner of their afternoon's performance, though Bumps was sadly wanting to do so. After tea their governess sat down to write a letter, and told them to amuse themselves quietly.

Jill gathered her forces into a corner of the room.

"Now then," she said; "have you got your money?"

"Yes," replied Jack, shaking out his pockets; "here is all mine, but it's precious little! Here's a threepenny bit and a sixpence and two pennies. How am I to get a tenth out of it? It's as bad as sums."

Jill took the money spread it out on the floor, and then sat down in front of it to consider it, with a face as grave as a judge's.

"You have eleven pennies," she said; "take one away, and that leaves ten; take a penny out of that, and that's your tenth."

Jack looked completely puzzled.

"And what am I do with the first penny that I take away?" he asked.

"You must keep that to go on for another ten pennies," said Jill with a knitted brow. "I'm sure that will be right, and the nine-pence you can spend any day you like."

"I'll spend it to-morrow, I think. I want a kite that I saw in the shop in the village, and I believe it costs about that. What am I to do with my tenth?"

"Keep it in a box or bag. Miss Falkner told you that. Now, Bumps, what have you got?"

"Five pennies," said Bumps importantly.

"You can't give a tenth then," said Jill, "for you haven't got one."

Bumps looked ready to cry.

"I'm alwayth being left out," she said; "do pleath make it come right. Can't I give one penny?"

A brilliant idea struck Jack.

"Change it into halfpennies, and she'll have ten!" he said.

Jill and Bumps both brightened up.

"Yes, Bumps, that will be the thing; you must put a halfpenny by, and that will be your tenth. I have two halfpennies you can have instead of your penny."

It needed a good deal of explaining to Bumps before she was completely satisfied. When that was done Jill produced her own purse. She was the richest of the three, for she owned three shillings and sixpence, but how to get a tenth out of it was a puzzle.

Miss Falkner, hearing their eager, excited voices, came to the rescue, and showed Jill that fourpence was the tenth of forty pence, and the two over would go towards the next tenth. Then she delighted her small pupils by producing a pretty scarlet flannel bag which she gave them as a "Tenth" bag. Their united coins rattled in, and though it was only fivepence-halfpenny, they felt as proud of it as if it had been five pounds.

"It's a beginning," said Jill to her governess as she was tucking her up in bed that night. "That's two beginnings I've made since you came here."

Miss Falkner's eyes glistened as she bent over her.

"My little Jill, I shall pray that God may never let you go back from these beginnings, as you call them. Ask Him to help you, dear. It is easier sometimes to make a beginning than go steadily on."

"Yes," said Jill sleepily; "but that's because the Golden City is such a long way off!"

[!-- H2 anchor --]

VI

"GOD'S CABBAGES"

Sam was as good as his word. Before a week was out a minute board was erected by the children's heap of stones.

Big white letters confronted any passerby—

"BETHEL.
TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED."

And Jill made a point of visiting the spot at least once a day, to be sure that it was left unmolested.

"I'm coming to tea with you, Sam, soon," she announced one afternoon, as she sat on a gate swinging herself to and fro and watching the carpenter repairing a fence.

Sam lived alone with his old father, in a rose-covered cottage, at the corner of the village.

Sam was devoted to roses, and his little front garden was given up to their cultivation.

The back one was in his father's charge, and he grew cabbages.

"Father will be pleased to see you, missy, and so shall I," was Sam's quiet response.

"Then you must invite me properly, and ask me to-morrow, for Mona is going to take Miss Falkner out for a drive. And then we have tea with Annie. I hate my tea poured out by a schoolroom-maid!"

Jill's little nose was tilted scornfully in the air.

"Aye," said Sam smiling; "to-morrow will suit first-rate, missy. Father and me presents our duty, and will be pleased if you will favour us with your company to tea to-morrow at five o'clock."

This was the usual formula, and Jill clapped her hands in delight; then she said with becoming gravity—

"I shall be very pleased to come, Sam. Tell Mr. Stone I'll favour him."

Then she ran into the house, and told Jack and Bumps where she was going.

They were inclined to be cross at first, but Jack soon recovered himself.

"We'll do quite well without you. I shall play at Sinbad the Sailor, and Bumps is going to be my Old Man of the Sea. Annie likes to join sometimes, and we'll have our tea in the garden. She likes that, for the gardener has a cup of tea with us."

Miss Falkner heard of the invitation, but raised no objection, so punctually at five o'clock the next evening Jill walked into Sam Stone's cottage.

He and his father were expecting her. The tiny kitchen was in perfect order, and looked spotlessly clean.

The table was laid for tea; and a boiled egg for Jill, besides some watercress and currant buns, gave it quite a festive air.

Old Mr. Stone looked delighted to see her. He was a tall, active old man, with a long grey beard, and had always plenty to say for himself.

"'Tis a pleasure to see you, missy. Come right in, an' sit comfortable on my poor wife's rocking-cheer. 'Twas the last thing she sat in afore she died, an' I see her in it now a gaspin' an' chokin', an' smilin' up at me so sadly like. 'Jim,' she sez, ''tis the Lord that did give me to yer, an' 'tis the Lord that do be goin' to take me away from yer. Thank Him,' she sez, 'for all His mercies!' An' I sez to her, 'Jenny, my heart can't thank if my lips can, an' I'd rather say nothin' just now to the Almighty.' Jenny, she were always so properly religious!"

"And are you properly religious too, Mr. Stone?" questioned Jill as she took her seat at the table, and commenced with great pride and solemnity to pour out tea. She was always given the post of honour, behind the big flowered tin tea-tray, and much enjoyed the responsibilities of her position.

The old man shook his head.

"I fear I be a very improper Christian," he said.

"I wonder," said Jill reflectively, "whether your wife gave a tenth to God. Miss Falkner thinks all proper good people do."

"What be that, missy?"

"It's what Jacob did, you know, and we're going to try to do it. Don't you remember his vow? 'Of all that Thou shalt give me, I will surely give the tenth unto Thee.'"

Old Mr. Stone nodded his head.

"My fayther did allays give a little to our rector; that be it missy, that be it. 'Tis the beginning of it you have told of!"

"Do tell me," said Jill eagerly. "Do you think we could give our tenth to our rector?"

Sam and his father both tried then to give Jill a dissertation on tithes. She hardly grasped it, but child-like returned pertinaciously to her business in hand.

"I want Sam to join us. I'm sure he has a lot of money. I hear it jingle in his pocket. And won't you too, Mr. Stone? If you will, you can come to our 'Bethel' and do it quite properly."

"I tell missy we be hard-workin' people, that be scarcely able to feed ourselves," said Sam.

"But a tenth isn't much," argued Jill. "Out of forty pennies you only have to give four. How much do you get from Mona, Sam?"

"A pound a week," answered Sam stolidly.

"Now, how many tens are in that, I wonder," Jill went on with interest; "you see, Sam, Miss Falkner says God sends us everything, so it does seem rather mean never to give anything back, doesn't it?"

"I reckon," said Mr. Stone looking at his son with a twinkle in his eye, "that two shillin' be a tenth o' Sam's money, not to speak of his other odd jobs that he do get in an' out."

"We should be on the way to the House, missy, if I did give away such a bit as that!"

"Oh, no, you wouldn't, for God just sends it back, Miss Falkner says in other kind of ways. Only He is pleased if we think of Him."

"If I were a rich man," said old Mr. Stone, "I'd give the Almighty a tenth. 'Tis a cryin' shame the rich be so grudgin' wi' their wealth; but we poor humble folk be not expected to do such things!"

"Haven't you got anything to give God, Mr. Stone?"

"Nothin' at all," responded the old man with a sigh. "Sam do take care of his old father, an' I sells my cabbages an' helps all I can; but since Christmas twelvemonth the rheumaty pains in my innerds be so cruel bad, that I be creepin' on to church-yard slow and sure."

A little gloom seemed to have fallen on the tea-party. Then Jill started another subject.

"When are you going to be married, Sam?"

Sam threw up his head and laughed aloud. He was a confirmed old bachelor and did not, as he expressed it, "like the ways of women."

"Ah, missy, I'll wait till you set the example."

"Oh, but I don't mean to marry at all. I shall be like Mona. Cook told Annie the other day that Mona was going to marry Captain Willoughby and I told Mona, and she was very angry and then she laughed and said that cook had already married her to over a dozen people. I don't quite know what she meant—but I think you ought to marry, Sam, and cook thinks so too. She says a house isn't a home without a woman!"

Sam laughed again.

"A woman, missy, is an ork'ard customer to deal with. There is smiles, 'tis true, but then there's tears, an' I can't abide 'em! An' there's a great chatteration, and there's a spendin', not so much in pots an' pans an' good wholesome food, but in ribbons an' silks an' finery. An' many a maid turns her man to drink, from her contrary tempers. Best be wi'out them, I say, an' so do fayther."

They talked away till tea was over, and then Jill accompanied old Mr. Stone into the back garden.

He pointed out to her row after row of his fine cabbages.

"One hundred and fifty-two, missy, an' all sowed from seed, an' I've tended 'em like chillen."

Jill walked up and down amongst the cabbages with a thoughtful air. Suddenly she stood still, seized with an inspiration.

"Mr. Stone, you've got cabbages! The text says, 'Of all that Thou shalt give me, I will surely give the tenth unto Thee.' You must give a tenth of your cabbages to God. Oh, do, won't you? And then you can join us. How many tens have you got? Let us go through, and mark every tenth cabbage off for God. That's the way to do it. How shall we mark them? Will Sam let us have some of that red worsted he ties up his roses with? I'll ask him. Just wait a minute. I know how to do it!"

Jill flew into the house breathless and excited without waiting for the old man's reply. She returned triumphant with her ball of red wool. "Sam thinks it will be very nice. I told him. And you know, Mr. Stone, God did give the cabbages to you. He made them grow, you didn't!"

The old man looked at her queerly. Then he fetched his pipe out of his pocket and began to smoke.

"Them cabbages fetch three-halfpence each in the market, and cheap at the price," he said.

Jill marched along the first row until she arrived at the tenth cabbage, then she broke off a piece of her red wool and tied it through one of the leaves.

"There, Mr. Stone, that's God's cabbage. Now, I'll go on to the next, and then you'll know how many you will have to give."

"What am I to do wi' 'em, missy. Take 'em to church?"

Jill sat down on an old wheelbarrow to consider. "Why," she said presently with a beaming smile, "when you take up a cabbage with a piece of red wool on it, you must sell it for God, and put the money in a little bag, and then give it to the poor."

"P'raps," said the old man with a chuckle, "it will find its way back into my pocket, for I'm a very poor old body, very poor indeed!"

"You're making a joke of it," said Jill, flushing a deep red. "I mean a real starving person, when I talk of the poor. Would you rather give it to the collection in church, Mr. Stone?"

"Aye p'raps that would be the best way to work it."

So taking that as a promise Jill set to work with a will, and before she left that evening she had marked off fifteen cabbages, the tenth of the old man's property.

"And now if you really like to give them, will you come to-morrow to 'Bethel' and do your vow?"

Mr. Stone wavered, but finally Jill won him over, and he promised to be outside the fir plantation the very next day.

Jack and Bumps were full of interest when Jill told them of her evening's work. It did much towards solacing Bumps, who had a bruised head and a badly grazed knee, but wounds were generally her lot after an hour or two alone with Jack.

"I wath the old man of the thea," she explained to Jill, "and I couldn't thtick on. Jack jumped and rolled and kicked me up in the air to get me off, and I had to try to be on all the time. It wath very differcult!"

She was rather doubtful about the cabbages.

"I thought it wath to be money. God really does make money and give it to us, but does He make cabbages? I thought they growed of theirselves."

"How do you think God makes money?" Jack asked.

Bumps thought hard for a minute.

"I 'spect He just drops pennies and shillings into the ground when no one is looking, and then lets us find them. I know they does come from under the earth, becauth Miss Falkner told me."

Jill tried to explain that cabbages brought in money, and it was the money for them that would be the tenth and after a time Bumps was satisfied.

They were all present the next day when old Mr. Stone was initiated into the mysteries of Bethel. But he shook his head sternly at the heap of stones.

"No no, that there altar is idol'try, that is what it be. The chapel folk would turn me out if I went for to forget myself in such a heathen-like way! Pour oil on it? Indeed no, missy. That be like the cannibal heathen who offer up sacrifices and living bodies, an' such like."

"But Jacob did," argued Jill. "We've kept most particular to the Bible."

"Ah, well, Jacob had to answer to the Almighty for it, an' I won't be his judge. But I'm a chapel man myself, though I favours the church on occasions. I'll say the words, missy, an' then you must let me go. My poor wife used to give to charity an' such like. I remember her handin' a penny out of the windy to a tramp one day. I could do with a deal more religion, I owns, for though I thinks little, I knows I ought to thank my Maker more for His mercy an' goodness. An' He is kindly welcome to my cabbages—them that be marked with red wool. So now, missy, where be the book?"

The Bible was put into his hand, and the verse pointed out, but he would only repeat the last part of it.

The children chorused "Amen," and then he was led away, but his words left an uncomfortable feeling behind.

"Is it like the heathens to have a heap of stones, I wonder?" said Jill, sitting down on the grass and looking at the pile very affectionately.

"It's all rubbish!" said Jack. "Jacob wouldn't have done a wicked thing, when he was making a vow to God."

"Arth Miss Falkner," was Bumps' suggestion. But Jill would not agree to this.

"It's a secret," she said; "we mustn't tell everybody. I think I'm rather sorry I brought Mr. Stone here. Sam didn't think it wicked."

"Isn't Sam going to join?"

"He won't just yet. He says he wants to think it over."

Then she jumped up. "Come along, let us have a game of hide-and-seek."

Away they scampered, making the garden ring with their shouts, and "Bethel" was forgotten for the time.

[!-- H2 anchor --]

VII

THE TRESPASSER

A few days afterwards Miss Falkner took Jack and Jill out for a drive in a low pony-chaise that was their special property.

Mona came out on the doorstep to see them start.

"I'm so glad you can drive, Miss Falkner," she said, "for I shall have no fears about the children with you as driver. The grooms can't be trusted. They give the reins to them, and Jack upset the whole concern just before you came."

"I used to drive as a tiny child," said Miss Falkner with heightened colour. "I have not done so lately, but one never loses the art."

Mona looked at her curiously. She began to feel a great interest in this young girl, who had so quietly taken the reins in the school-room and was slowly but surely influencing the young turbulent spirits in it.

The children were giving their pony sugar. Mona looked at them, then she laid her hand gently on Miss Falkner's arm.

"Some day you will tell me about yourself and your home," she said.

The quick tears sprang to the young governess's eyes. She felt as she stood there that the girl who spoke to her had all that the world could give her. She had as yet been untouched by the storms of life, and on her proud young face there were lines of discontent and restlessness that would never be effaced till she had learnt some of life's lessons, and perhaps been through the school of suffering.

They were very nearly the same age, were two blocks of stone, ordained for a building above; yet though one was cut and chiselled already, the other bore no impress of the Master's hand.

But the sympathetic touch and words struck a chord in Miss Falkner's heart. She forgot from that time that Mona Baron was her employer, she thought of her only as a girl who might need help.

"Now where shall we go, children?" she asked, as they drove down the sweet-smelling lime avenue into the high road.

"Oh, do drive up to Chilton Common," cried Jack; "there are such a lot of rabbits there, and we can see the sea from it."

So to Chilton Common they went. It was about four miles off, and at first sight looked a dreary expanse of wild moorland. As they crossed it, they caught the salt scent of the sea, and soon came to a cluster of poor-looking cottages, but beyond them in the distance was the unmistakable blue line of the ocean, and the children seemed delighted.

"I wish we lived by the sea," said Jill. "I like to be on the very outside edge of the earth."

"Why?" inquired Jack.

Jill seldom gave reasons for her likes and dislikes.

"Because I do," she returned sharply.

"Oh, look, Miss Falkner, there's our rector, Mr. Errington. He has a lot of people round him. P'raps he's preaching!"

Mr. Errington caught sight of them and smiled at the children, who were great favourites of his. Then he came forward.

"My horse has gone very lame," he explained.

"I am thinking of leaving him here at the blacksmith's and walking home."

"Can we give you a lift?" asked Miss Falkner.

"That will be very good of you. I shall be grateful for my wife will be expecting me and will be anxious."

"Jill thought you were preaching," said Jack. "Wasn't she silly? As if you'd preach on a weekday!"

"I wish I had been," said Mr. Errington with a smile.

Then he turned to Miss Falkner.

"These are my parishioners," he said, "and not one of them comes to church. They're just like heathen. It looks a God-forsaken place, does it not?"

"It seems a strange place to see cottages," said Miss Falkner. "How do they earn their living?"

"By peat-cutting, and working in a quarry a mile off. The blacksmith is unable to walk far, or I really think I should see him at church sometimes. The rest are totally indifferent to their soul's welfare. I am longing to build a little mission-room and come over and have a service for them, but it would cost money, and I have none to spare at present."

"It is a pity," said Miss Falkner gently. "One wonders sometimes if money drifted into the right channels whether this dense ignorance would be overcome. At my old home there was a district very like this. My father's curate was indefatigable in trying to raise money, and he eventually succeeded. It was a great success, for the people came to the mission church and sent their children to school. But he—" her voice faltered a little, "overworked himself, took cold and died, and my father followed him. The present rector does not care for the mission-room. He thinks they ought to come to church, and they don't do it."

Mr. Errington nodded with perfect comprehension.

"Of course not. It would want a good deal of zeal to walk eight miles after a week's hard work. Our English labourer will not do it."

They talked on, and much of the conversation was above the children's heads, but Jill was a sharp child, and she was already evolving a plan in her head, which had the effect of taking her to the Rectory the next day.

Mrs. Errington was a great invalid. When she was told that "Miss Jill Baron" wanted to see her, she said to her husband, who was overlooking some accounts with her:

"My dear Robert, we ought not to be disturbed. Shall we say we are engaged?"

"No," said Mr. Errington, leaning back in his chair with a laugh; "I am dazed with figures. Let us be refreshed by one of the fresh things in this world. There is nothing like a child for relieving one of care."

Jill was ushered in, flushed and excited. She could hardly wait to shake hands.

"Jack and Bumps are willing, and so I've come with it," she said. "It's to help to build that church on the common. Miss Falkner said we might, and I've brought it in our bag."

She put a scarlet flannel bag on the table, and went on—

"You see we haven't begun very long, so there's only a little to start with; but we shall always be putting in, because we often get presents, and I've spoken to Mr. Stone, and we've counted that his fifteen cabbages will bring him one shilling and tenpence halfpenny, and he says that had better be given to you too."

It seemed incoherent, but Mrs. Errington gently drew the explanation out of the child, and though Jill did not divulge the spot of their "Bethel," her account interested the rector and his wife greatly.

"It will be money well spent," Mr. Errington said, "for it will be the means of telling those poor folk of the love of the Saviour."

"And you will have the honour, Jill dear, of starting the collection," said Mrs. Errington.

"It's a pity," said Jill with knitted brows, "that you can't get every one to give you their tenth."

"I don't think there are many people who do give their tenth," said the rector.

"Miss Falkner gives all hers to the Church Missionary Society," Jill went on; "but Jack and Bumps and me thought we'd like to see where our money went."

"Wise little woman!"

Mr. Errington emptied the bag, and delighted Jill by giving her a formal receipt for it, and entering the sum in an account book. She ran away quite happy, waving her scarlet bag in the air, and wishing with all her heart that birthdays and Christmas, and all such occasions for receiving presents, would come every day.

"Mona is going to have a party," announced Jack one day soon after this. "I went into the drawing-room to give Miss Webb her pencil that I picked up, and she and Mona were talking about it. It is to be next Wednesday."

The children were just beginning their afternoon lessons; and Jill was washing her slate preparatory to doing a sum.

"How jolly!" she cried. "I hope she'll let us come to it. When is it to be? Is it a dinner party?"

"No, a garden party. It's going to be a very grand one. There's a band coming, and a tent for fruit and ices, and there will be tennis and croquet, and bowls and——"

"Now, Jack," said Miss Falkner quietly, "that is enough. Lessons now, and talk after."

It was hard to obey, but Jack put a restraint upon himself, and when lessons were over Jill determined to get no more news second-hand.

"Come on, Bumps. I'm going to ask Mona about it."

The little girls found their sister in her bedroom, getting ready for a drive.

"We've come to ask about the party," said Jill, who always went straight to the point. "We can come into it, can't we?"

Mona laughed, then she sat down in an easy-chair and took Bumps upon her lap.

"I hardly ever see you now," she said; "Miss Falkner keeps you all in such order. Why, Bumps, you are growing quite heavy."

"Yeth," assented Bumps, "I thmashed Polly's head by stepping on it. She's my thecond betht wax-doll, Mona!"

"You'll let us come to the party?" asked Jill persuasively.

"Yes, if you behave nicely. There may be two other children coming. Little Indian nieces of Mrs. Moxon's."

"Heathens?" questioned Jill.

Mona laughed merrily.

"Good gracious, no! What a ridiculous child you are."

Jill coloured up at once.

"I like boys better than girls," she said in her stubborn tone. "I know I shan't like them."

"You must be civil and kind to them, or else I shall send you back to the school-room. But perhaps that will be no punishment. I think you must have altered your mind about governesses, Jill."

"Yes," said Jill in a different tone. "But Miss Falkner is not like a governess. She's very fond of us, she says so!"

"Extraordinary! You don't say so!"

Mona laughed again, then put Bumps off her lap.

"Now run away, small people, and remember if you appear in the garden on Wednesday, you must be in the cleanest frocks and the sweetest tempers. Otherwise you must make yourselves scarce."

"Like the children walking to the Golden City," said Bumps trotting after Jill.

Jill looked down at her with troubled eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder where I am," she said, moved by the impulse of the moment to confide in her little sister. "I don't believe I get on very fast. I'm always losing my temper, and that means dirtying my frock."

"And then you have to wash it," said Bumps cheerfully.

"Yes," said Jill, with a light in her eyes; "I can do that, at least I can ask to have it done, but—" and here she relapsed into gloom again. "I sometimes wonder if it is ever clean for more than a minute!"

Wednesday came, and the three children sadly tried Miss Falkner's patience at lessons.

She closed books at last, and sent them out into the garden to play before their early dinner. They longed to go into Mona's portion of the grounds, but the head gardener kept them back. Tents were being erected; servants bustled about, and Mona herself, with Miss Webb and one or two gentlemen, seemed to be superintending everything herself.

At four o'clock Jill and Bumps, arrayed in their best white frocks, were down on the front lawn awaiting the arrival of guests. Miss Falkner in a pretty grey dress and hat stood talking to Miss Webb under the trees, and Mona, looking radiant in her youth and loveliness, dressed like her little sisters in pure white, with a spray of delicate pink roses in her breast, was talking and laughing with a few of her house guests. Jack presently came up to his sister. He was dressed in his white sailor-suit, and looked stiff and uncomfortable.

"Oh, Jill, I say, do let's get out of this. It's so dull and proper. You and Bumps look like the china figures on the school-room mantelpiece."

"Yes," said Jill; "it is very dull. Where shall we go?"

"Let us see how Bethel is getting on."

So the three made their way to the fir plantation, but met with several interruptions on the way. Jack chased a fowl which had escaped from the poultry-yard. Bumps would insist on stopping to watch the peregrinations of two frogs in some long grass, and Jill had a talk with Sam, who was cutting down a young tree. As they trod softly on the brown pine-needles underfoot Jack startled his sisters by a shrill whisper.

"Look! there's a trespasser."

Jill pressed eagerly forward. A tall broad-shouldered man in clerical clothes was standing reading the board. Then instead of turning away, he went up to the pile of stones, and bending down was in the act of lifting one of them out of its place to look at it, when Jill's indignant voice arrested him.

"You're a trespasser! We shall prosecute you!"

He turned round in astonishment, and his stern, rugged features were transformed by a smile, when he saw the daintily-dressed children before him.

"Is this your property?" he asked.

Jill was like a little bantam-cock.

"Every bit of it is ours, of course it is. You must have seen the board; we ain't going to allow any trespassers here."

"You'll have to be prothecuted!" cried Bumps breathlessly.

"Yes, Jill said she'd prosecute," said Jack, looking first at the stranger and then at his sister, as if measuring in his mind's eye their respective sizes.

"What is to be done with me?" asked the stranger with an amused look.

Jack and Jill put their heads together, and consulted in hurried whispers as to the best course to take.

Then Jill spoke very emphatically.

"We shall have to prosecute you, because you didn't care for our board. You saw it and you were going to move our stones. Jack and I think if you will walk between us and promise not to escape, we will go down to the policeman at our gate. Mona is having a grand party and he's here now, for we saw him. He'll tell us what to do."

"I think," said the trespasser, trying to look grave, "that you might fine me. Magistrates do that to some trespassers."

Jill did not understand this, but she was too proud to confess it.

"No, you must come to the policeman," she said. So presently skirting the tennis lawn the little procession passed. Jack and Jill marched on either side of him, Bumps walked behind.

"I can catch hold of his coat if he runs away," she said.

It was unfortunate for the children's plan that Mona should intercept them.

She moved from a shady tree on the lawn, and accompanied by two gentlemen confronted them.

A slight flush rose to her cheek when she saw the prisoner, and her voice faltered slightly.

"Mr. Arnold? I have not seen you for so many years that I hardly recognised you at first. You must be staying with Lady Crane; though she mentioned your name to me I never connected it with you. I am very glad to see you."

Her tone was more nervous than cordial. She introduced the other gentlemen with her to him. "Sir Henry Talbot. Captain Willoughby." Then she added lightly—

"I might have known I would find you in the children's company. I remember how fond you were of all small people."

"He's our prisoner," said Jack importantly, "and we're taking him to the policeman."

"A trethpather," put in Bumps excitedly.

"Yes, we're going to prosecute him," said Jill gravely.

Mona laughed, but Mr. Arnold looked grave enough as he said:

"Yes, I plead guilty, but I appeal to the present company that I should be let off a term of imprisonment by paying a fine."

"What does he mean?" asked Jill confidentially, addressing Captain Willoughby, who was always the children's friend.

"He means he'll pay down some money if you make him. What has he been doing?"

"He has been trespassing in our most private place. There's a board up, so there was no excuse."

"I think if he pays us some money we'll let him off," said Jack.

Mr. Arnold held out five shillings.

"It's a first offence," he said. "I'll never do it again."

"What shall we do with it?" asked Jill, taking the money and fingering it dubiously.

Mona had walked on with Sir Henry Talbot.

"Why," said Jack "we'll put it in our bag."

Jill's whole face brightened.

"Thank you," she said. "We'll forgive you then."

"You mercenary little wretches," said Captain Willoughby. "Is this a new game by which you fleece every stranger?"

"The money isn't for us!" said Jill indignantly. "It's for a kind of church."

Mr. Arnold looked at her, and gave one of his rare smiles again.

"I must hear about it," he said. "I should like to know where my fine will go."

He certainly knew how to gain children's confidences. Before very long on a garden seat Jill was telling him about it all, even about their cherished "Bethel."

She was rapidly making the trespasser into a friend.

"I am most interested," he said; "I am going back to a big manufacturing town soon, and I think I must try and get some of my boys and girls to put aside a tenth."

"Have you any little boys and girls of your own?" asked Jill.

"I am not a father," Mr. Arnold replied, "but I have all sorts and kinds of boys and girls who I consider belong to me. Little crossing-sweepers, and errand-boys, and miners, and school-boys, and factory-girls. And I have a few like you who enjoy plenty from their Heavenly Father."

"Did you know Mona long ago?" asked Jill.

"I knew her," said Mr. Arnold slowly, as his gaze travelled to a white-gowned figure in the distance, "when she was about as big as you, and we used to spend all our holidays together till we grew up. You ask your sister to tell you of our prank in the church tower with old Solomon Disher!"

"Oh, do tell me."

He shook his head. He saw Mona coming towards them again and he rose to meet her.

A few words that then passed between them puzzled Jill.

"Well, Mr. Arnold, tell me your news. I suppose you have never changed your opinion since we last met."

"No, I never have."

His eyes and mouth were stern as he spoke.

Mona looked at him thoughtfully, then as she met his gaze, she laughed lightly.

"Your spirit is still ruling your body. I can see that. And I suppose you would say that my body is still ruling my spirit. I think it is. I always told you I should take the easy path."

Mr. Arnold glanced at her, then he looked at the gay company on the flowered lawns, his ear caught the lively strains of the band, and his gaze wandered to the beautiful sloping hills and woods that formed a background to the charming old English house that was her property.

"A noble patrimony," he said in a low clear voice. "I would it did not belong to those who lay up treasure for themselves and are not rich toward God."

A crimson flush mounted to Mona's fair cheeks.

"Seven years ago," she said "we parted because of your unreasonable severity. Have we met to do the same this afternoon?"

A smile came to his lips.

"I hope not. I have lived and learnt to judge less harshly; but my aim is still the same. I hope my standard has not been lowered."

Mona shrugged her shoulders, then deliberately walked away from him.

Jill looked after her astonished.

"You have made Mona cross, Mr. Arnold."

"I am afraid I have," he said humbly. "Shall we come over to the tea tent?"

Jill was only too delighted.

[!-- H2 anchor --]

VIII

"I MUST LOVE FIRST, BEFORE I CAN GIVE"

But Jill lost her friend in the tent. Several ladies took possession of him, and Miss Falkner told her to come with her and speak to two little girls who were standing outside. They were evidently twins. Both had white delicate faces and long fair hair reaching almost to their waists.

Jill was much astonished when she heard they were the "Indian nieces."

"Why do they call you Indians?" she asked them abruptly, as Miss Falkner having left them they walked across the lawn towards the band.

"We are not Indians," one of the little girls said indignantly. "We have been living in India and came to England last month. Mother and father are still out there."

"Oh," said Jill in a relieved tone: "I was afraid you would be half black. Mona told me you were coming. What do you do in India?"

Their tongues were loosened, they poured out such a volley of "ride through bazaars," "tiffins," "ayahs," "dobies," "punkahs," "rupees," "gymkanas," and other unknown words and terms that Jill grew quite bewildered.

She questioned them eagerly and was quite impressed with all the strange things they had seen and heard.

"What kind of things do you do?" they asked in their turn. "It seems so dull to us in England, but that's because we are shut up in a school-room with a governess."

"We're never dull," said Jill warmly. "Never! And we're always doing new things every day. Do you see Jack and Bumps anywhere?"

"Who are they? Is Bumps a dog? What a funny name!"

"She's my little sister; we've always called her Bumps because she tumbles about and hurts herself so. They've gone off together somewhere. Now if we find them you'll see the sort of things we do. Whenever Jack and Bumps are missing, they are always up to something!"

Jill commenced a rapid and thorough search for her brother and sister. Miss Falkner was also looking for them, but it was a long time before their search was successful. At last coming to a small artificial lake which was tenanted by some wild waterfowl and white swans, they heard a commotion, and found Jack and Bumps very busy indeed.

Bumps was sitting in a wheelbarrow to which were harnessed with yards of tape and ribbon, two of the swans. It had been a difficult task, to judge from the children's heated, dirty faces. The birds were screeching and fluttering their wings, nearly choking themselves in their efforts to free themselves.

Jack was pushing the wheelbarrow behind, trying to follow the lead of the distressed and angry birds. Bumps, elated by her position, was brandishing a small whip and trying to manage her reins, which seemed a difficult matter.

How they had got hold of the swans at all was a wonder, but Jack's white suit was covered with green slime and soaked with water.

"I'm Snow White," called out Bumps, "but these thtupid thwans won't go prop'ly!"

Miss Falkner said very little, but what she said had the effect of bringing Jack to his senses.

"Well," she said; "you have shortened your happy day by this! What a pity! You evidently were tired of the party. We will go straight back to the school-room and stay there for the rest of the day."

In two minutes she had liberated the unhappy swans and was marching Jack and Bumps—one on each side of her—back to the house. The little girls watched them, half in amusement half in pity.

"That's what I say," said Rose, one of the twins, "a governess spoils every bit of fun!"

"Miss Falkner doesn't," said Jill loyally, "but Jack does sometimes go too far. He nearly hung Bumps the other day. He was pretending to do it, but he got the rope too tight round her neck. She was a Royalist and he was Oliver Cromwell. We had had it in our lesson that day. He said he really felt she was his enemy, and he would have to get rid of her! Miss Falkner was very angry. She is very quiet when she is angry, but she's very nice. I love her!"

Then with a quick change of thought, Jill said—

"Do you get a lot of money? Have you pocket-money?"

"Yes, we have sixpence a week each, but it doesn't seem a great lot."

"Wouldn't you like to give your tenth to God? You can easily, if you like. I'll tell you how it's done."

The little girls looked at Jill completely puzzled, but she had a wonderful way of compelling attention and interest, and before she separated from them that afternoon they had promised to think over the matter, and let her know what they could do.

"You see," said Norah, the other twin, "we haven't very much money to spare. We want every penny of it. We're always wanting to buy things."

"Yes, but God wants it most," said Jill, "and it's such a very little He wants; only one penny out of tenpence, that's all it is. And if you saw the poor people out on Chilton Common, who have no church and who look so dirty and wicked, you'd like to give some money to help them."

"Are you good?" asked Rose looking at her curiously.

"No, I'm awfully wicked," said Jill with conviction, "but giving your money away doesn't make you good. I wish it did."

There was nothing to say to this. They parted excellent friends, but Rose said to Norah afterwards, "She's rather a nice girl, but I feel if I was with her she would make me do a thing whether I liked it or not."

"It's the way she talks," said Norah; "she gets so excited over it. I never heard of a tenth before, did you?"

"No, never. I wonder if Aunt Mary gives it, I will ask her."

Jill had a word or two again with Mr. Arnold before he left. He came up to wish her sister good-bye when she was standing by her side.

"Good-bye, Miss Baron. I am off to my work again to-morrow, so shall not see you again for some time."

Mona looked up at him a little wistfully, then spoke in her most airy manner—

"Good-bye, it is not likely we shall often meet; my path is not yours, as you are so fond of inferring."

He looked at her in silence, then his hand fell rather heavily on Jill's shoulder.

"I think of you," he said, "as you were at this age. This little sister of yours has discovered that she is a steward—help her when she grows up, as you were never helped, to preserve her childish faith and integrity. It is required in stewards that a man may be found faithful!"

Then turning to Jill he said—

"Good-bye, little friend. I am not sorry that I trespassed this afternoon, for I am going away happier than when I came."

"And you don't mind us keeping your five shillings?"

"I shall like to think of it reposing in that scarlet bag you told me about!"

He went, and Mona turned sharply upon Jill—

"Run away, child, to Miss Falkner. It is getting late, you have been here long enough."

Jill obeyed, wondering why her sister spoke so crossly.

It was a few days after this that Jill discovered two more trespassers in the vicinity of Bethel.

She was by herself, and did not feel quite so ready to arrest them when they proved to be Mona and Captain Willoughby.

They had been wandering through the plantation, and Captain Willoughby's voice was very low and earnest when the sudden appearance of Jill startled and disconcerted him.

"You can't come any further, I'm afraid," said Jill barring the way; "for you'll be trespassing."

Mona looked at her in amusement.

"Whose wood is this? Yours or mine?" she asked.

"This corner is ours," answered Jill firmly, "No one used it before we did."

"But what have you been using it for?" inquired Mona.

Jill looked a little rebellious. Captain Willoughby seized hold of her.

"You are the little trespasser, not us, I fancy," he said. "Now then I have got you. Come along, and don't pull away from me unless you want a sore wrist."

So Jill was dragged captive before her board and pile of stones.

Mona looked at it curiously.

"Now what on earth does it mean, Jill? Explain."

"You're trespassers both of you," said Jill stubbornly. "It's got to do with us, and we are the ones that know about it."

"The mighty US!" said Captain Willoughby, who loved to tease her sometimes.

But Mona stopped him, and drew Jill's hand out of his very gently.

"Never mind, Jill dear. We will own ourselves trespassers if you will explain this. What does 'Bethel' mean? It is a Bible word, is it not?"

Jill was quickly appeased. When Mona spoke to her kindly she was ready to tell her anything.

"It is a secret place, and a religious one," she said.

"Of course it comes out of the Bible, and it's not idolatry, though Sam's father says it is."

"I know!" said Captain Willoughby. "It's an altar, and you offer sacrifices on it."

"No, we don't," said Jill indignantly, "we wouldn't be so wicked!"

"But the good people in the Bible always offered sacrifices," argued the young Captain.

Jill looked at him thoughtfully.

"Well, we don't," she said.

"What do you do?" asked her sister. "This is a kind of altar, isn't it?"

"It is a kind of one," admitted Jill, "though Jacob did not call it an altar. He made a heap of stones and called it Bethel, and so we've done it too."

"Oh, I see," said Captain Willoughby. "This is Jacob's heap of stones. Isn't one of them in the King's coronation chair, by the bye?"

"But what use is this to you?" asked Mona, wanting to get to the bottom of it.

"It has to do with our vow," said Jill, speaking fast and earnestly. "We have done what Jacob did, we've told God we'll give Him our tenth. 'Of all that Thou shalt give me, I will surely give a tenth unto Thee.' That's the vow. And if anybody wants to make it I shall let them come here and make it, and they won't be trespassers any longer."

"That's a grand inducement," murmured the Captain, "but what does your tenth consist of, Jill? Sweets and currant-buns, and dolls, and picture-books? I should like the system explained."

"It's the tenth of our money, of course," said Jill, "I thought everybody knew that."

Mona was silent. She was looking a little troubled. Then she turned suddenly to Jill—

"Is this where you brought Mr. Arnold the other day?"

"I found him here," said Jill. "He was a trespasser. That's why he gave me five shillings."

"What have you done with it?"

"I've put it into our bag. Miss Falkner made us a red bag and all our tenth goes into it, and then I take it to Mr. Errington, and he's going to build a mission church on Chilton Common with it!"

Mona gasped, then she began to laugh.

"Hopeful Mr. Errington! I admire his ambition, but I fancy many years will roll by before that church is built!"

"I knew you would laugh," said Jill reproachfully.

"Well," said Mona, looking first at Jill and then at her pile of stones, "I always did say you children had the bump of invention. But I, with Mr. Arnold, will plead guilty of the charge of trespassing; and you must do the same, Captain Willoughby. What will you fine us, Jill? Five shillings? I think we cannot escape with less than that."

"Be merciful," pleaded Captain Willoughby. "If I had known this visit of ours would have entailed such a loss to my pocket, I would have kept a long way off from it!"

Jill looked perplexed.

"I don't want to get money out of people," she said, "but you really are trespassers, and it will be lovely for our bag!"

Mona took her purse out of her pocket, and put half a sovereign into her little sister's hand.

"There!" she said. "Run away and put that into your bag. It is for a good object. Now, Captain Willoughby, we must go back to the house. I promised to drive with Miss Webb at four o'clock, and it is that already."

Jill turned over the gold coin in amazement and delight. She thanked her sister effusively.

"I knew our bag would get on, I was sure it would," she said; and then she scampered back to the school-room, where Miss Falkner was teaching Jack how to arrange his stamps geographically in his stamp album, and Bumps was looking admiringly on.

"Look!" she cried. "Mona has given this to me for our bag! Isn't it perfectly lovely."

She got plenty of sympathy from the school-room party. Miss Falkner had heard at last about "Bethel," but she had respected Jill's wish about it, and had never been there.

That evening when the children were in bed she sat by the open school-room window. Her thoughts were not sad ones, though she had had much in her life to make her sad. And when a slender figure in a black lace gown came across the dusky lawn and spoke to her, it was the young heiress's face that looked weary and troubled, not the governess's.

Miss Falkner looked up brightly.

"Isn't it a delicious evening?"

"Is it? Yes, I suppose so. I wish I enjoyed things as you do, Miss Falkner."

There was a little silence.

Then Mona sat on the low window-ledge and put her light shawl over her shoulders.

"I must have some one to talk to to-night, or I feel I shall go crazy, and I have come out of doors to get away from Miss Webb, because she is so cross with me."

Miss Falkner looked her sympathy but said nothing.

"Jill has altered a chapter in my life to-day, and I don't know whether I am glad or sorry."

"I hope she has done good, not harm," said Miss Falkner.

"From your standpoint—yes. From mine—I'm not so sure. I was about to yield to persuasion, when she interrupted us, but after her interruption, I—well I altered my mind. What a lot of bother one's memory gives one!"

"Sometimes it does."

Mona moved in her seat restlessly.

"Seven years ago, Miss Falkner, I quarrelled with some one that I liked very much. It was about a certain subject. It is strange that this week the same person and the identical subject have both cropped up again."

"I should say," said Miss Falkner, "that the coincident has occurred for a purpose."

"Yes, I knew you would say that." Then after a pause she said—

"Do you believe that prosperity is good or bad for one?"

"I think if we regard our wealth as a trust it will be good for us," said Miss Falkner.

Mona laughed a little bitterly.

"Of course. It is the same old story. People can't give because it's right to give. I hate being forced."

"No," said Miss Falkner gently. "It is only when we love the One to whom our wealth belongs that we love to give it back to Him."

"Then," said Mona, "I must love first, before I can give."

She rose, then looked a little wistfully at the young governess.

"Sometimes I wish I could change places with you," she said, and before Miss Falkner could make any reply she slipped away.

[!-- H2 anchor --]

IX

TRYING TO BE "DOUBLE GOOD"