Chapter Second.
"This we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should heeat."--2 Thess. 3:10.
Mr. Travilla had gone, and Mr. Dinsmore and his little daughter satalone upon the veranda; she upon his knee, his arm about her waist.Some moments had passed without a word spoken by either. Elsie's eyeswere downcast, her face full of solemn joy.
"What is my little girl thinking of?" her father asked at length.
"Oh, papa, I am so glad, so happy, so thankful!" she said; and as shelooked up into his face he saw that tears were glistening in her eyes.
"You are seldom other than happy, I think and hope," he responded,softly stroking her hair.
"Yes, very seldom, dear papa. How could anybody be unhappy with somany, many blessings to be thankful for, especially such a dear,kind father to love and take care of me? But I am happier than usualto-night because of the good news Mr. Travilla has told me."
"Ah, what was that?"
"That he has found the Saviour, papa, and that it was partly throughmy instrumentality. Isn't it strange that God should have so honored achild like me?"
"Ah, I don't know that it is. 'A little child shall lead them,'the Bible says. 'Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hastperfected praise.' God often works by the feeblest instrumentality,that thus all may see that the glory is due to Him alone. I rejoicewith you, my darling, for no greater blessing can be ours than that ofbeing permitted to win souls to Christ."
"Yes, papa; but I am so far from being what I ought," she added, withunaffected humility, "that I wonder I have not proved a stumbling-blockinstead of a help."
"Give the glory to God," he said.
"Yes, papa, I know it all belongs to Him. Oh, don't you hope Mr.Travilla will be with us next Sabbath?"
"At the Lord's table? I do indeed. It is a precious privilege I havelong wished to share with him; a means of grace no Christian oughtever to neglect; a command that as the last and dying one of ourblessed Master we should joyfully obey whenever opportunity is affordedus, yet with the utmost endeavor to be in a proper frame of mind; for'he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnationto himself, not discerning the Lord's body.' It is a dreadful sin forany one to sit down to that table without having examined himself ofhis knowledge to discern the Lord's body, of his faith to feed uponHim, repentance, love, and new obedience. Let us both pray earnestlyfor grace and help to partake worthily, repenting of every sin, hatingand forsaking it, and devoting ourselves anew and unreservedly to theMaster's service."
"I will, papa," she said. "And should we not meditate on Jesus while atHis table?"
"Yes, He should be the principal theme of our thoughts all through theexercises; we should remember Him--the loveliness of His character, thelife He led, the death He died, and all that He has done and sufferedfor us."
They fell into silent thought again. Elsie was the first to speak. "Iwonder where they are now, papa?"
"Who, our travellers? Well, we cannot tell precisely; but I hope itwill not be very long before we shall hear of their safe arrival inPhiladelphia."
"That will end the journey for mamma and Horace," she remarked; "butwhat a long one the others will still have before them! I should thinkAnnis would feel as if she must hurry on as fast as possible till shegets home to her father and mother."
"Very possibly she may; but I know that Dr. Landreth and Mildred intendresting for some days in Philadelphia. So Annis will be obliged to curbher impatience, which the sights of the city will no doubt help her todo."
At that instant Elsie gave a sudden start, asking in an awed, tremulouswhisper, "Papa, what is that?" nestling closer to him as she spoke.
It was growing dusk, and a shadowy figure, dimly seen by the waninglight, had just emerged from the shadow of a large tree at somedistance down the drive. It was now stealing cautiously in theirdirection.
"Don't be alarmed, dearest," Mr. Dinsmore said, tightening his claspof Elsie's slight form; "I presume it is some runaway whom hunger hasforced to show himself." Then calling to the figure which continued toadvance with slow, faltering steps, "Halt! Who are you, and what isyour business here?" he asked.
"I'se Zeke, massa," answered a trembling voice; "I'se come back to wuk,an' hopes you won't be hawd on a po' niggah wha's repentin' an' pow'fulsorry fo' takin' a holiday widout yo' leave, sah." Mr. Dinsmore madeno reply, and the man drew nearer. "I'se pow'ful sorry, massa," herepeated, pausing at the foot of the veranda steps, and standing therein a cringing attitude, his rags fluttering in the evening breeze,the remnant of a straw hat in his hand; "hope you won't order me nofloggin'."
"If you choose to go back where you came from, I shall not interferewith you, Zeke," returned Mr. Dinsmore, coolly.
"I'se done tired o' de swamp, sah; I'se like to starve to deff dar;hain't tasted not de fust mawsel o' victuals fo' de las' two days."
"Oh, poor fellow, how hungry he must be!" exclaimed Elsie. "Papa, won'tyou please give him something to eat?"
"He won't work, Elsie; since I have known him he has never earned hissalt."
"But, papa," she pleaded, "wouldn't it be wrong and cruel to let himstarve while we have plenty and to spare?"
"Would it? God's command is, 'Six days shalt thou labor and do all thywork.' And Paul says to the Thessalonians, 'Even when we were with you,this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should heeat.'"
Elsie turned to the suppliant. "Zeke, you hear what the Bible says, andyou know we must all obey its teachings."
"Yes, Miss Elsie, dat's true nuff."
"Then will you promise papa that if he feeds you now you will go towork industriously to-morrow, if God spares your life?"
"Sho'n I will, Miss Elsie, 'cept I gets de misery in de back, or dehead, or somewheres else."
"He can always find a hole to creep out at, Elsie," Mr. Dinsmore said,with a slight laugh; "those miseries never elude a determined search."
"But, Zeke," said Elsie, "you mustn't give up for a little misery; youmustn't try to feel one."
"Sho' not; but dey jes' comes dere-selves, little missy."
"And some people give them every encouragement, while others work onin spite of them," remarked his master, with some sternness of tone."I assure you, Zeke, that I have myself done many an hour's work whileenduring a racking headache."
"You, sah? T'ought you didn't never do no wuk."
"Just because you never saw me take hold of spade or hoe? One may toilfar harder with the mind, Zeke. Well, I will give you one more trial.Go to the kitchen and tell Aunt Dinah, from me, that she is to give yousomething to eat; and to-morrow you must go to work with the rest inthe field or--starve. And mind, if you have been without food as longas you say, you mustn't eat nearly so much as you want to-night, oryou'll kill yourself."
"Tank you, sah, I 'cepts de conditions;" and with a low bow, firstto Mr. Dinsmore, then to Elsie, he turned and shambled off in thedirection of the kitchen.
"Papa, is he so very lazy?" asked Elsie.
"Very; he would do nothing but lie in the sun if allowed to follow hisown pleasure, though he is young, strong, and healthy. He disappearedsome days ago, but I permitted no search to be made for him, andshould have been better pleased had I never seen him again."
"Papa, perhaps he might do better at some other work; in the garden orabout the stables."
"Possibly. I think I shall try acting upon your suggestion."
"Oh, thank you, sir," she said. Then after a moment's thoughtfulsilence: "Papa, we are sitting here doing nothing at all; yet I knowyou must think it right, else you wouldn't do it, or let me."
"It is right: neither body nor mind was made capable of incessantexertion; we need intervals of rest, and can accomplish more in the endby taking them when needed. Jesus once said to His disciples, 'Come yeyourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while.'"
"Oh, yes! I remember it now," she said. "How good and kind, howthoughtful for others, He always was! Papa, I do so want
to be likeHim."
"I think you are, my darling," he answered in moved tones, and pressingher closer to him; "like Him in sufficient measure for those who knowyou in your daily life to 'take knowledge of you that you have beenwith Jesus' and learned of Him."
"Papa, you couldn't say sweeter words to me," she whispered, withher arm about his neck; and he felt a tear fall on his cheek. "Andyou, papa; oh, I am sure no one could be long in your company withoutfeeling sure you were one of Jesus' disciples."
"I hope that is so," he said with feeling; "for, like you, I mostearnestly desire to honor Him by my daily walk and conversation, and tobe always and everywhere recognized as His servant."
Elsie, who had the kindest of hearts, thought of Zeke while her mammywas preparing her for bed that night, and again while going throughthe duties of her morning toilet. That completed, she hastened to herfather with a request that Zeke might be set to work in her own littlegarden.
"Weeding and watering it would be very pleasant, easy work, I am sure,"she added. "I like to do it myself."
"I doubt if Zeke would know weeds from flowers," her father said,smiling down into the eager little face.
"But I will show him, papa, if I may."
"You may do just as you please about it," was the indulgent reply. "Wewill have our reading and prayer together, and then you may send forZeke, and give him his instructions."
"Oh, thank you, papa!" she exclaimed, with as sincere joy and gratitudeas though she had won some great favor for herself.
Mr. Dinsmore rang for a servant, and sent a message to Zeke. He wasdirected to make himself clean and decent, and come to the veranda forfurther orders.
He obeyed. Elsie found him waiting there, and taking him to her gardenexplained minutely what she wished him to do, calling his attentionparticularly to the difference between the leaves of the weeds thatwere to be uprooted and those of some annuals not yet in bloom.
He promised faithfully to attend to her directions and to beindustrious.
"Don't you think it's nicer, easier work than what you would have hadto do in the field?" she asked.
"Ya-as, Miss Elsie," he drawled, "but it's stoopin' all de same, andI'se got de misery in de back."
She gave him a searching look, then said reproachfully, "O Zeke, youdon't look the least bit sick, and I can't help being afraid youare really lazy. Remember God knows all about it, and is very muchdispleased with you, if you are not speaking the truth."
"Sho I'se gwine to wuk anyhow, honey," he answered, with a soundbetween a sigh and a groan, as he bent down and pulled up a weed.
"That's right," she said pleasantly, as she turned and left him.
An hour later, coming out to see what progress he was making, she foundnearly all her beloved annuals plucked up by the roots, and lyingwithering among the weeds in the scorching sun.
"Oh, how could you, Zeke!" she cried, her eyes filling with tears.
"Why, what's de mattah, Miss Elsie?" he asked, gaping at her inopen-mouthed wonder, not unmixed with apprehension and dismay.
"Matter? You have been pulling up flowers as well as weeds. That is oneyou have in your fingers now."
Zeke dropped it as if it had been a hot coal, and stood staring at itwhere it lay wilting on the hot ground. "Sho, Miss Elsie, I didn't gofo' to do no sech t'ing," he said plaintively; "t'ought I was doin''bout right. Shall I plant 'em agin?"
"No; they wouldn't grow," she said.
"Dis niggah's mighty sorry, Miss Elsie. You ain't gwine to hab him sentback to de wuk in de field, is you?" he asked, with humble entreaty.
"I'm afraid that is all you are fit for, Zeke; but the decision restswith papa. I will go and speak to him about it. Don't try to do anymore work here, lest you do more mischief," she said, turning towardthe house.
He hurried after her. "Please now, Miss Elsie, don' go for to 'suademassa agin dis po' niggah."
"No, I shall not," she answered kindly; "perhaps there is somethingelse you can be set at about the house or grounds. But, Zeke," turningto him and speaking very earnestly, "you will never succeed at anythingunless you strive against your natural laziness, and try to do yourbest. That is what God bids us all do. He says, 'Whatsoever thyhand findeth to do, do it with thy might.' 'Whatsoever ye do, do itheartily, as to the Lord and not unto men.'"
"S'pect dat's so, Miss Elsie," he drawled; "but de Lawd He ain't gwineto take no notice what a po' niggah's 'bout in de field or de garden."
"That's a great mistake, Zeke," she said. "His eye is always onyou--on everybody; and He is pleased with us if He sees us trying todo faithfully the work He has given us, no matter how low the taskmay seem to us or other human creatures, and displeased if we are nottrying to do it 'as to the Lord and not unto men.'"
"You ain't 'fended 'bout dose po' flowahs what dis po' niggah bin pullup in a mistake, is you now, Miss Elsie?" he asked.
Evidently her religious teachings had made no more impression than theidle whistling of the wind.
"No, Zeke, I only can't trust you again," she said, turning away with aslight sigh over her failure to win him from his inborn indolence.
She hastened to her father with the story of what had occurred.
"Ah! it is about what I had expected," he said. "I am sorry for yourloss, but it can soon be repaired. Have you left Zeke there to finishthe work of destruction?"
"No, sir; I told him to stop till he heard from you."
"He shall go back to the field at once; there is no propriety ingiving him an opportunity to do further mischief," Mr. Dinsmore said,with a decision that left no room for remonstrance; and summoning aservant sent the order.
Elsie heard it with a sigh. "What now? You are not wasting pity on thatincorrigibly lazy wretch?" her father asked, drawing her caressingly tohis knee.
"I did hope to do him some good, papa," she sighed, "and I'mdisappointed that I can't."
"There may be other opportunities in the future," he said. "And do notfret about the flowers. You are welcome to claim all in my gardens andconservatories."
"How good and generous you always are to me, you dear father!" shesaid, thanking him with a hug and kiss, while her face grew bright withlove and happiness. "No, I won't fret; how wicked it would be for onewho has so many blessings! But, papa, I can't help feeling sorry forthe little tender plants, plucked up so rudely by the roots and leftto perish in the broiling sun. They were live things, and it seems asif they must have felt it all, and suffered almost as an insect or ananimal would."
Her father smiled, and smoothed her hair with softly caressing hand."My little girl has a very tender heart, and is full of loving sympathyfor all living things," he said. "Ah, Travilla. Glad to see you!" as atthat instant that gentleman galloped up and dismounted.
"So am I, sir," Elsie said, leaving her father's knee to run withoutstretched hand to meet and welcome their guest.
He clasped the little hand in his, and held it for a moment, while hebent down and kissed the sweet lips of its owner. "What news?" Mr.Dinsmore asked, when he had given his friend a seat and resumed his own.
"None that I know of, except that I have come to your view (which is mymother's also) of the subject we were discussing yesterday, and havedecided to act accordingly," Mr. Travilla answered, with a rarely sweetsmile directed to little Elsie.
"Oh!" she cried, her face growing radiant, "I am so glad, so very glad!"
"And I, too," said her father. "I am sure you will never regret havingcome out boldly on the Lord's side."
"No; my only regret will be that I delayed so long enrolling myselfamong His professed followers. I now feel an ardent desire to be knownand recognized as His servant, and am ready to go forward, trustingimplicitly His many great and precious promises to help me all myjourney through."
"'Being confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a goodwork in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ'?" quoted Mr.Dinsmore inquiringly.
"Yes," said Mr. Travilla, "for He is able to keep that which I
havecommitted unto Him; able to keep even me from falling."
Mildred at Home: With Something About Her Relatives and Friends. Page 2
