Alls Well | Page 7

than about half-a-dozen. For an invalid
confined to bed or sofa, whether child or adult, there was little resource
save needlework. Alice had come to bring her little niece a roll of
canvas and some bright-coloured silks. Having so much time to spare,
and so little variety of occupation, Christie was a more skilful

embroideress than many older women. A new pattern was a great
pleasure, and there were few pleasures open to the invalid and lonely
child. Her sole home company was her father, for their one servant,
Nell, was too busy, with the whole work of the house upon her hands,
to do more for Christabel than necessity required; and Mr Hall, who
was manager of one of the large factories in Cranbrook, was obliged to
be away nearly the whole day. Other company--her Aunt Alice
excepted--was rather a trial than a pleasure to Christabel. The young
people were rough and noisy, even when they tried not to be so, and the
child's nerves were weak. Aunt Tabitha worried her to "rouse herself,
and not be a burden on her poor father"; and how gladly would
Christabel have done it! Uncle Thomas was also a harassing visitor,
though in another way. He never knew what to say, when he had once
asked how the invalid felt: he only sat and gazed at her and the window
alternately, now and then, as though by a mental jerk, bringing out a
few words.
"He causes me to feel so naughty, Aunt," said Christie dolefully, "and I
do want to be good. He sits and looks on me till I feel--I feel--Aunt
Alice, I can't find the words: as if all my brains would come out of my
finger-ends, if he went on. And now and then he says a word or two--
such as `Rain afore night, likely,' or `Bought a drove of pigs yesterday,'
and I can only say, `Yes, uncle.' I think 'tis hard for both of us, Aunt
Alice, for we don't know what to say one to the other. I can't talk to him,
and he can't talk to me."
Alice laughed, and then the tears almost rose in her eyes, as she softly
smoothed Christie's fair hair. She knew full well the sensation of
intense, miserable nerve-strain, for which the little girl strove in vain to
find words.
"'Tis hard to be patient, little Christie," she said tenderly. "But God
knoweth it, dear heart; and He is very patient with us."
"O Aunt Alice, I know! And I am so sorry afterwards, when I should
have been quiet and patient, and I have spoken crossly. People know
not how hard it is, and how hard one tries: they only see when one
gives way. They see not even how ashamed one is afterwards."

"Truth, sweet heart; but the Lord seeth."
"Aunt, think you the Lord Jesus ever felt thus?"
"He never felt sin, Christie; but I reckon He knew as well as any of us
what it is to be wearied and troubled, when matters went not to His
comfort. `The contradiction of sinners' covereth a great deal."
"I wonder," said Christie plaintively, "if He felt as if it hurt Him when
His brethren banged the doors! Friswith alway does when she comes;
and it is like as if she struck me on the ears. And she never seems to
hear it!"
"I cannot tell, sweeting, what He felt in the days of His flesh at
Nazareth; but I can tell thee a better thing--that He doth feel now, and
for thee. `I am poor and needy, but the Lord careth for me.' Keep that in
thine heart, little Christie; it shall be like a soft pillow for thy weary
head."
Alice rose to go home, and tied on her blue hood.
"O Aunt Alice, must you go? Couldn't you tarry till Father comes?"
"I think not, my dear heart. Tell thy father I had need to haste away, but
I will come again and see both him and thee to-morrow."
To-morrow!
"Give him my loving commendations. Good-night, my child." And
Alice hurried away.
CHAPTER FOUR.
TABBY SHOWS HER CLAWS.
Friswith Hall was returning from Cranbrook in a state of great
satisfaction. She had made an excellent bargain; and she was the sort of
girl to whose mind a bargain had the flavour of a victory. In the first

place, she had squeezed both coif and ribbon out of her money; and in
the second, she had--as she fondly believed--purchased an article worth
one-and-tenpence for eighteenpence.
As she came up to the last stile she had to pass, Friswith saw two girls
sitting on it--the elder a slender, delicate-looking girl of some fourteen
years, the younger a sturdy, little, rosy-faced damsel of seven. They
looked up on hearing