Poppy's Presents

'Why, I'm afraid it will go hardly with them in the House,' said the poor woman, beginning to cry afresh. 'They do say some of them old nurses are not over-good to babies, and they think 'em such a lot of trouble, poor little motherless dears! And there's Poppy, too; she's been ever such a good little girl to me, and she'll feel so lonesome-like in that big, rambling place. I don't suppose they'll let her be with the babies, for all she loves them so.'

'Now, Polly, my dear,' said grandmother, starting from her seat, 'never you say another word about that. If you think I'm going to let John Henry's bairns go into the Workhouse, why, my dear, you don't know what sort of stuff John Henry's mother is made of! Why, my lass, it would be throwing God Almighty's gifts back in His face. I've wearied for my twin babies all these years, and fretted and fumed because I'd lost them, and then as soon as He gives 'em back to me, I go and shove them off into the House! No, no, my dear,' said grandmother, 'I'm not such an old stupid as that. And as for Poppy, my lass, why, she'll be my right-hand woman! They shall come home with me, my dear, and I'll be their mother—dear, blessed little chaps—and Poppy shall be their nurse, and we'll all be as happy as ever we can be without you, my dear.'

'Oh, grandmother, it seems too good to be true,' said Poppy's mother; 'but you can never keep three children.'

'Yes, my dear, I can; my good man, he was careful and thrifty, and he saved a good tidy sum. And my lady's very good to me,—why, I live in the lodge rent free, and get my coals, and many's the coppers the folks in their carriages throws out, when I go to open the gate. You see it's a sort of a public road, my dear, and there's all kinds of folk goes by. So I've enough and to spare; only I'm lonesome often, and haven't nobody to speak to for hours together. And now the Lord's going to send me good company, and I shall be a happier woman than I've been since my good man died, and my John Henry went away; I shall indeed, my dear.'

Poppy's mother was almost too happy to answer her; a great load was lifted off her heart, and she lay quite still, with her eyes closed for some time, trying to tell her best Friend how grateful she was to Him for all He had done for her. Meanwhile, the poor old woman was rocking the babies in her arms, and wiping away the tears, which would come in her eyes as she thought of what the doctor had said.

Then Poppy came in, bright and happy, with a bunch of white roses in her hands, which Jack's friend the greengrocer had given him, and which he had sent to Poppy's mother. She was very much distressed to see her grandmother crying.

'What is it, granny, dear?' she said, putting her arms round her neck, and kissing her; 'are you poorly?'

'You had best tell her, grandmother,' said Poppy's mother; 'it will come less sudden-like on her after.'

But grandmother could not speak. She tried once or twice, but something in her throat seemed to choke her, and at length she laid the sleeping babies on the bed, buried her face in her apron, and went downstairs.

'What is it, mother?' said Poppy; 'did the doctor say you were worse?'

'Poppy,' said her mother, 'shall I tell you what the doctor said, my darling?'

'Yes, please, mother,' said the child.

'He said that in a few days more I should be quite well, Poppy; well and strong, like you, my dear—no more pain—no more weakness—for ever.'

'Then why does granny cry?' said Poppy, with a puzzled face.

'Because, darling, grandmother wanted me to go to her home and get well there; but instead of that, God is going to take me to His home, Poppy, to be well for ever and ever. Will you try to be glad for me, darling?'

'Yes, mother,' said little Poppy with a sob,—'I'll try; but, oh mother, I wish He'd take me too!'

CHAPTER XI

THE STORY OF THE RING

Polly, my dear,' said grandmother, when she was sitting beside her the next day, 'aren't ye feared to die!'

'No, grandmother,' said the poor woman, 'I'm not afraid.'

'Well, I should be,' said grandmother, 'if I knew I was going away in a few days; why, my dear, I should be frightened out of my wits, I should indeed.

'And so should I have been, two years ago,' said Poppy's mother; 'but I'm not afraid now. I'll tell you how it was, granny, that I got not to be frightened to die. I used to go to a Mothers' Meeting of a Monday afternoon, before John Henry went away, and before I had to go out washing, and while we did our sewing a lady used to read to us.'

'Who was it, my dear?'

'Miss Lloyd; she's the clergyman's sister, granny. Well, one day (I remember it so well) she brought a beautiful ring to show us. Oh! it was a beauty, grandmother. There was a ring of lovely large diamonds all round it. She told us that some old lady had given it to her for a keepsake, just before she died, and that she would not lose it for a great deal. "Now," she said, "you are all my friends, and I want a bit of advice. I'm going to start to-morrow on a long journey; I am going to travel in foreign parts, and stop at all sorts of inns and lodging-places. Now do you think it would be safe for me to take my ring with me?"

'"Well, ma'am," said old Betty, who's always ready with her tongue, "I wouldn't advise you to do so. They're queer folk, them foreigners, and maybe you'd be washing your hands at some of them outlandish places, and take off your ring, and then go away and leave it behind, and never see it no more."

'"That's just what I've been thinking," said Miss Lloyd; "thank you for your advice, Betty. I'm sure my ring will not be safe, and I can't keep it safe myself; well then, what shall I do?"

'"Couldn't you trust it to somebody, to take care of for you, ma'am?" said another woman.

'"Thank you, that's a very good idea. I think it's the best thing I can do. Now let me think," said Miss Lloyd; "I must get some one who is able to take care of it, and who is willing too. Oh! I know," she said; "there's my brother—he is able. He has a strong box at the bank, where he keeps his papers; he can put it in there, and I feel sure he will be willing to do it for me. I hear his voice in the next room; I'll call him in, and ask him."'

'And did she ask him?' said grandmother.

'Yes, she brought him in, and she said: "Now, Arthur," she said, "these friends of mine advise me to trust my ring to you. I can't keep it safe myself, but I feel I can trust you. I know you are able to keep it for me whilst I am away; I commit it to your care." So up she got from her seat, and handed the ring in its little case to Mr. Lloyd, and he put it in his waistcoat pocket, saying, as he left the room, "All right, Emily, don't you trouble about it; I'll take care of it."'

'Well, my dear,' said grandmother, 'all that was very nice, I've no doubt; but how it makes you any happier to die, it beats me to see.'

'Oh, but you haven't heard the end of it, grandmother,' said Poppy's mother.

'No, nor I won't hear it till you've had a cup of tea, my dear. You're as white as a sheet. I oughtn't to have let you talk so long.'

But when she had had the tea, and an hour's quiet sleep, and when the babies were asleep, and grandmother and Poppy were sitting beside her in the twilight, the poor woman went on with her story.

'When Mr. Lloyd had gone, grandmother, his sister said, "I can't thank you all enough for your good advice. I feel quite happy about my ring. And now you won't mind my asking you what are you going to do with your treasure?"

'"Well, ma'am," said old Betty, "the only ring that I have is my wedding ring, and that's not worth sixpence to anybody but myself, so I don't suppose it stands much chance of being stolen."

'"Betty," said Miss Lloyd, turning to her, "you have a treasure worth far, far more than my ring. I mean your precious soul, which will live for ever and ever and ever somewhere; your undying self, Betty. Only your body will go in the grave; you yourself will be living for ever. Dear friends," she said, speaking to all of us, "I want each of you to ask this question: What about my soul? Is it safe?"

'Then she told us, grandmother, that we were travelling through an enemy's country; Satan and his evil spirits wanted to get our treasure. She told us we could not keep our soul safe ourselves; if we tried we should certainly lose it, as she would have lost her ring. "And oh, dear friends," she said, "what shall it profit you, if you gain the whole world, and lose your own soul?"'

'Well, she was right there, my dear,' said grandmother.

'"Now, then," she says, "I want you to do as you advised me to do. I want you to get some one to keep your treasure for you—some one who is able, some one who is willing; who shall it be?"

'"I suppose you mean the Lord, ma'am," said old Betty.

'"Yes," she said, "I mean the Lord Jesus. He is able, for He has all power; He is willing, for He died on purpose that He might do so. Won't you trust your treasure to Him?" she said. "Won't you go straight to Him, and say, Lord Jesus, here is my soul; I can't keep it myself; Satan wants to get it for his own. I trust it to Thee; I commit it to Thee to be saved."

'Well, grandmother,' said Poppy's mother, 'I didn't forget what she said, and that night, when John Henry had gone upstairs to bed, I knelt down in the kitchen, and trusted my soul to the Lord Jesus to be saved, because He had died for me; I put my soul in His hands, grandmother, and I know He will keep it safe.'

'Well, my dear,' said grandmother, 'it's to be hoped He will.'

'I know He will, grandmother; I don't doubt Him,' said Poppy's mother. 'Miss Lloyd taught us a verse about that: "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day." And she said if we were to begin doubting that our soul was safe when we had taken it to Jesus to be saved, it would be the same as saying we did not trust Him. "What would you think," she said, "if I were to be saying all the time I was away Oh, dear me, I'm afraid I shall never see my ring again; I'm afraid it isn't safe after all?"

'"Why, ma'am," said old Betty, "you'll excuse me saying so, but I should think you was very rude to Mr. Lloyd, and if I was there I should give you a bit of my mind; you mustn't be offended at me saying so," says Betty, "but I should indeed."

'"And what would you say, Betty?" says Miss Lloyd.

'"I should tell you, ma'am," says Betty "that if you had trusted your ring to Mr. Lloyd, it was as safe as safe could be, and it was an insult to him to doubt it."

'"Betty," says Miss Lloyd, "you're quite right; and that's just what I feel about the Lord Jesus. I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that soul which I have committed unto Him."'

'Well,' said grandmother, 'it seems all right when you put it like that, and I wish I was as happy as you are, my dear;—but I'm a good-for-nothing old woman, I am indeed, and somehow I'm afraid He wouldn't do it for me.'