'A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich;
A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong;
Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense
Of service which thou renderest.'
It was Sunday afternoon, and the children sat in the Rose Parlour, with the windows wide open to let in all the sweet summer scents1 from the garden.
Patient Lilian was struggling to teach Bobby a Scripture2 lesson, for his form-master had decreed that the names of the books of the Old Testament3 must be repeated without a slip immediately after prayers on the ensuing Monday morning. Poor Bobby had neither a retentive4 memory nor a great disposition5 to learn. He fidgeted, and kicked the leg of the table, and said it was 'a jolly shame for old Peters to give a fellow Sunday prep.' He hopelessly confused Ezra and Esther, floundered at Ecclesiastes, and the minor6 prophets filled him with despair.
'It's no use, Lil,' said the despondent8 Bobby. 'I may as well make up my mind to take a caning9 and spare myself the trouble.'
'Lilian dear, are you busy?' said Aunt Helen,[63] putting her head round the door. 'I thought you might have taken this jar of beef-tea to old Ephraim. I hear he is not so well again, and he was not in church this morning.'
'Oh, Auntie, let me take it!' cried Peggy, glad of any excuse to interrupt the study of her Collect and Catechism.
'Be careful not to spill it, then, and be sure to bring back the basket. And while you are there, I have no doubt he would be pleased if you read to him for a little. He is getting so blind now, poor old man! and it is dull for him, living all alone,' said Aunt Helen, who liked to teach the children to help their neighbours.
Old Ephraim was a quaint10 and original character. He had come to Gorswen from the North country, and had been shepherd for forty years at the Abbey. He was past work now, and lived in one of the village almshouses, subsisting11 partly on the parish dole12 and partly on private charity; for though Mr. Vaughan might practise rigid13 economy in his own private expenses, he had never a grudging14 hand towards the poor.
The little low whitewashed15 cottage was a humble16 enough place, but it looked cheerful this Sunday afternoon, with the sunlight streaming in through the tiny window, and a few early white roses shedding their sweet perfume in the small garden in front.
Peggy found the old man seated in his elbow-chair by the fireside, his head enveloped17 in a huge flat oat-cake, tied on with a red cotton pocket-handkerchief, so that he resembled some new species of mushroom.
'Why, Ephraim!' she cried, stopping short in amazement18; 'whatever is the matter? And what have you got on your head?'
[64]'Headache, Miss Peggy,' replied Ephraim, shaking his gray locks solemnly. 'There ain't nothink like a hot oat-cake for a bad head; it do cure it wonderful, to be sure.'
'Well, it seems a queer thing to put on, anyhow,' remarked Peggy, wondering privately19 whether the old man would consume his remedy afterwards for tea. 'How is the rheumatism20?'
'Better, Miss Peggy—gradely better since I've kept a potato in my pocket. Ah, it's a fine thing for the rheumatics, is a potato. But,' with a sly wink21, 'it must be stolen, or it beant no use at all!'
'Did you steal it, then, Ephraim?' cried Peggy with thrilling interest.
'That's as may be,' replied the old man, willing to change the subject now it was growing personal. 'Is your pa keepin' well these days?'
'The Catechism says it's wrong to steal,' observed the righteous Peggy, keeping sternly to the point, and anxious to improve the occasion. 'Haven't you got a Bible, Ephraim?'
'Ay, ay,' returned the culprit evasively, 'there be one somewheres.'
'Oh ay! Hannah Jones was in a' Saturday, sidin' th' top o' th' cupboard, and I see'd her wi' it in her hand. Oh, I reads the Bible, I does. It's all about wars—them Israelites foightin' wi' the other heathen.'
'It's about something else, too,' replied Peggy: 'miracles and parables23 and epistles, and—oh! lots of things. Wouldn't you like me to read some to you?'
'Nay24 now, Miss Peggy,' said Ephraim, much alarmed lest she should expect him to stir his rheumatic old bones in a search on the cupboard-top. 'I reckon[65] sometimes 'tis better to think on things nor to read 'em. I've time to do a deal o' thinkin', settin' here.'
'Perhaps I might read you something else, then?' volunteered Peggy, determined25 to be a ministering angel, despite the evident unwillingness26 of her protégé.
'Yea,' said the old man, considerably27 relieved; 'there be a drawer full o' books i' the dresser. Take your choice, miss—take your choice.'
Peggy turned out the drawer by the simple process of emptying it on the table, and disclosed a very miscellaneous collection of literature—socialist pamphlets, agnostic newspapers, and radical28 tracts29 were mixed up with teetotal treatises30, missionary31 leaflets, and the parish magazine. Sheets of ballads32, which Ephraim had bought as a boy, lay side by side with a tattered33 copy or two of Zadkiel's prophetic almanac, some advertisements of patent medicines, a recipe for sheep-dip, and a Wesleyan hymn-book. Peggy gazed eagerly at an ancient chap-book, which set forth34 the stories of Dick Turpin and Jack35 Sheppard, interspersed36 with rude woodcuts of the gallows37 and whipping-post; but she heroically put it aside, as being unsuitable for the day.
Finally, she settled upon a little worn volume bound in calf38, with the title, 'A Sigh of Sorrow for the Sinners of Zion, breathed by an Earthly Vessel39 known among Men by the Name of Samuel Fish.'
'I'm sure Aunt Helen would think this all right to read to him,' she said to herself, as she drew a chair to the other side of the fire.
It was not very easy reading, for the print had faded till it was almost the colour of the yellow leaves, and the 's's' were all long, so that Peggy found herself continually reading 'fins40' instead of 'sins'; but she did her best, conscientiously41, and the old man nodded[66] in his chair, sitting up briskly, however, when he felt her reproachful eyes upon him.
Peggy stopped, quite hot and weary, at the end of the first chapter.
'Do you like it, Ephraim?' she inquired anxiously.
'Ay, Miss Peggy, it be foine, it be, surely,' said the old man.
'What does it all mean?' said the child. 'It is so hard to read, I can scarcely understand it.'
'Why, as to that, miss,' answered Ephraim, 'it seems to me as long as it's pious42 words, there beant no call to understand 'em, let alone I'm that deaf to-day, it seems naught43 but a buzzin' like when you read.'
Peggy closed the book hurriedly.
'I think I had better be going now,' she announced. 'I hope your headache will be well soon. Can't I put the kettle on for you?'
'Ay, miss, if you be so bountiful. My rheumatics be cruel bad when I stir me.'
Peggy filled the kettle from the pump in the back garden, and hung it on its hook over the fire. She found the old man's cup and saucer, and set out his tea on the little round table by his side, and finally took her departure, feeling she had at least attended to his temporal wants, and might leave the rest to older and wiser heads than hers.
'I'll call and see Mrs. Davis; there'll be plenty of time before tea,' she said to herself, as she came back up the village street, swinging her empty basket.
Mrs. Davis was a dear old Welshwoman, and a particular friend of Peggy's. She was one of Nature's gentlewomen, for her kind heart prompted those little gracious, courteous44 acts which in a higher class we call good breeding. She made quite a picture in her short[67] linsey-woolsey petticoat, with the check apron45, her plaid shawl crossed over her cotton bodice, and the frilled white cap framing the kind old face, with its apple cheeks and soft white hair. She was sitting among her bees this Sunday afternoon, beating with an iron spoon upon an old tin kettle.
'They be swarming46, indeed, Miss Peggy,' she said. 'And here I've had to sit the whole of the day, beating this old tin—and Sunday, too! But we can't expect the poor creatures to understand that, can we?'
'I suppose not,' said Peggy, settling herself on a low wooden seat, at a safe distance from the agitated47 hives, and letting her glance wander round the little garden, where the tall yellow lilies reared their stately heads over a mass of sweet cottage flowers, pinks and forget-me-nots, poppies and double daisies, sweet-williams—loved of the bees—pansies, lupins, and snap-dragons; over the cottage, where the white roses climbed up the thatch48 to the very chimneys, and where through the open doorway49 could be seen the neat kitchen, with its red-brick floor, the settle placed by the fireside, the tall grandfather's clock ticking away in the corner, and the oak dresser, with its rows of blue willow-pattern plates; and back again at last to where Mrs. Davis sat with her grandchild by her knee, a small round-eyed boy, whose thumb was stuck perpetually, like a stopper, in his mouth, and who stood watching the bees with stolid50 indifference51.
'Won't he get stung?' asked Peggy, who thought he looked far too near to the swarming hives for safety.
'No, dearie. I think they know me and Willie now, though they'd attack a stranger as soon as not.'
'I was dreadfully stung once,' confided52 Peggy. 'I lifted off the little box on the top of one of the Rectory hives, just to see how the bees were getting on, and[68] they all came rushing out and settled on me. Mr. Howell seized me, and put my head under the pump, and Father was ever so cross, for he said I shouldn't have meddled53 with them.'
'The bees don't like to be interfered54 with,' said Mrs. Davis. 'You should never touch them in the daytime. Always take the honey at night.'
'Joe says you must tell them if there's a death in the house, and tie a piece of crape on the hive, or they'll all fly away.'
'Well, I don't quite hold with all folks say about them, but they are strange creatures, with queer ways of their own. They seem quiet just now, so I think I might leave them for a few minutes. I have a pot of honey I should like to send to your aunt, miss, if you would kindly55 take it to her. I'll go inside and fetch it. No, Willie, my pretty, you can't come. Granny's going up the ladder into the loft56.'
'I'll take care of him. Come with me, Willie dear—come and see the pretty flowers.'
And Peggy seized the stolid infant by his disengaged hand.
Willie did not look enthusiastic about the attractions of the flowers, but he allowed himself to be led away, staring at his new guardian57 with round eyes of solemn distrust, and solacing58 himself with his thumb.
'We'll build a little house,' said Peggy, anxious to prevent the suspicious twitching59 of her charge's mouth from developing into a roar, and taking up some bricks and loose stones which lay under the wall. 'See, we'll make a kitchen and parlour, and put down leaves for a carpet. Here's a little round stone for a table, and the pansy-flowers will do for dollies. They've such funny little faces. We'll make them skirts out of laurel leaves, and put them to bed in the corner.'
[69]Peggy's well-meant efforts at entertainment were suddenly interrupted by a loud sniff60 from the other side of the wall, and, looking up, she saw the round, reproachful face of Polly Smith, a girl of about her own age, who sometimes came up to the Abbey to help Nancy at busy times.
'Why, it's you, miss, I do declare!' exclaimed Polly. 'And making play-houses in Mrs. Davis's garden on Sunday, too! I am surprised! I've been to Sunday-school!'
Peggy felt rather caught, but she carried it off as well as she could.
'I was only amusing Willie,' she said. 'He was going to cry because Granny Davis went indoors and left him.'
'Ay, she's been sittin' swarmin' her bees all day. I see her when I was goin' to chapel61, and I see her again when I come back, and when I goes to Sunday-school she were still there. My dada says he don't hold with folks as can't keep the Sabbath holy.'
And Polly turned up her small nose in a distinctly aggravating62 manner.
'How did you get on at Sunday-school?' asked Peggy, who did not like insinuations against the moral worth of her dear Mrs. Davis.
'Splendid, miss. I always does. Teacher gave me a prize for sayin' hymns—such a nice book. Wouldn't you like to look at it?'
'Are you sure it's a Sunday book?' inquired Peggy, who could not forbear her revenge.
'Oh yes, for I looked at the end chapter, and she dies beautiful, and they plant snowdrops on her grave; and her big brother, what's so unkind to her, gets drowned through goin' boatin' on Sunday,' replied Polly, regarding Peggy as if she thought her courses might lead her to a similar watery63 fate.
[70]'Here's Granny!' cried Willie, abandoning his thumb to seek the protection of the friendly linsey-woolsey petticoat.
'Ay, so it be. My granny sits in the parlour on Sunday afternoons, with her blinds drawn64 down, and reads her Bible. She's a godly old woman, she is!'
And Polly took her departure with a conscious sniff, as if deploring65 the depravity of her neighbours.
Peggy was very much upset.
'Is it really wrong to look after the bees and amuse babies on Sunday?' she asked Father afterwards.
'No, dear, certainly not. The Pharisees came to our Lord with just such a question, and you know He answered them that it was right to do well on the Sabbath. God did not mean it to be a day of misery66, but a specially67 joyful68 and happy day, in which we were to think a good deal about Him. Sometimes we can show our love for Him quite as well by helping69 others as by reading our Bibles or going to church, though we should not neglect that either. As for shutting ourselves up on Sundays, and thinking it is wrong to look at the beautiful things around us, that is mere70 ignorance, for Nature is like a wonderful book, written by God's hand, and the birds and the bees and the flowers are all pages out of it for those who have eyes to read them rightly.'
Peggy thought of this as she sat among the ruins watching the sunset that night. The sky, flaming in bands of crimson71, violet and orange, looked like the very gate of heaven, a golden city which you had only to cross the hills to reach—surely another page in that book of which Father had spoken.
'It's like one of the pictures in the Interpreter's house in the "Pilgrim's Progress,"' she said to herself; 'or Christian72 and Hopeful on the Delectable73 Mountains,[71] when they looked through the glass, and thought they saw "something like the gate, and also some of the glory of the place."'
She stayed a long, long time among the crumbling74 old walls, watching the gold fade gradually out of the sky. It was very still and peaceful in there, and she liked to sit and think how the Abbey must have looked in those strange, bygone days when the little steps had led to a dormitory, and the broken pillars had held up the roof of a church, whose tinkling75 bell had rung out at sunset, calling to prayer those old monks76 who slept so quietly in their forgotten graves.
An owl77 began to hoot78 in the woods beyond the river, a great stag-beetle came droning by, and the bats flew over her head with their shrill79 little cry, flitting here and there like night swallows.
Peggy got up and brushed the dew from her dress, and walked slowly back to the house in the gathering80 twilight81. In the Rose Parlour Aunt Helen sat turning out her little writing-desk, and wiping suspicious drops from her eyes.
'Don't keep old letters, child,' she said, as Peggy crept up to her with silent sympathy. 'It opens so many wounds to re-read the tender words of those who are estranged82 or gone away from us, and all the hopes and expectations that have come to nothing.'
'Don't read them, Auntie. Let's tear them up and burn them, if they make you cry.'
'No, no; I can't bear to part with them, after all! We'll lock them up in the desk again. But, Peggy, take my advice, and if you quarrel with anyone, go and fight it out at once, and get it over, and don't let misunderstandings make the breach83 so wide that nothing can ever mend it again.'
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1
scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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scripture
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| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
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testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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retentive
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| v.保留的，有记忆的；adv.有记性地，记性强地；n.保持力 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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7
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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caning
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| n.鞭打 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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subsisting
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| v.（靠很少的钱或食物）维持生活，生存下去( subsist的现在分词 ) | |
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dole
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| n.救济，（失业）救济金；vt.（out）发放，发给 | |
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13
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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parables
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| n.（圣经中的）寓言故事( parable的名词复数 ) | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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unwillingness
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| n. 不愿意，不情愿 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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treatises
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| n.专题著作，专题论文，专著( treatise的名词复数 ) | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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fins
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| [医]散热片；鱼鳍；飞边；鸭掌 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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46
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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48
thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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52
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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53
meddled
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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57
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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solacing
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| v.安慰，慰藉( solace的现在分词 ) | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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61
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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62
aggravating
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| adj.恼人的，讨厌的 | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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64
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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65
deploring
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| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的现在分词 ) | |
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66
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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67
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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68
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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69
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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71
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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74
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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76
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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78
hoot
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| n.鸟叫声，汽车的喇叭声； v.使汽车鸣喇叭 | |
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79
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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80
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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81
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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82
estranged
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| adj.疏远的，分离的 | |
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breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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