Opportunities Part 30

"Well, Mr. Richmond knows," the housekeeper went on, "there ain't no end o' the troubles there is in the world, nor yet o' the poverty; and Sally Eldridge, she'll be the better maybe, as long as the things last; but there's all the rest o' Lilac Lane, without speaking of what there is beside in Shadywalk; and the chilld 'll be without her dollars, and the world 'll be pretty much where it was."

"I don't see but that reasoning would stop my preaching, Miss Redwood."

"I don't mean it, sir, I'm sure."

"I don't think you mean what you say. What is the use of giving me a good cup of tea, when so many other people cannot have one at all?"

"The minister knows a cup o' good tea when he sees it," answered the housekeeper.

Mr. Richmond laughed. "But don't you think Sally Eldridge, for instance, would know a good bed?"

"There ain't no possibilities o' makin' some o' them folks keerful and thrivin'," said the housekeeper, firmly. "'Tain't in 'em; and what's the use o' havin' things if folks ain't keerful? Sally Eldridge had her house respectable once; I mind her very well, when she kept the gate at Judge Brockenhurst's big place; and she had wages, and her man he had good wages; and now the peas is all out o' the basket. And is there any use, buyin' more to put in? The basket 'll never be mended. It'll let out as fast as it takes in."

"The basket, as you put it, is out of Sally's hands now," Miss Redwood.

"She is one of the helpless ones. Don't you think it would be a good thing to make her life more comfortable? I think we had better take her some of this short-cake, Matilda. Miss Redwood, as for you, I shall expect to hear that you have lamed your arm doing something for her comfort, or half broken your back carrying a heavy basket to Lilac Lane, or something of that sort, judging by what I know of you already."

"I'm willin'," said the housekeeper. "But it ain't this child's business. She hain't no call to give all she's got to Sally Eldridge."

"I suppose," said the minister, with a look at Matilda, which both she and the housekeeper read with their hearts,--"I suppose she is thinking of the word that will be spoken one day, 'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these,'--'He that hath pity upon the poor, lendeth to the Lord; and that which he hath given will He pay him again'!"

"Then Mr. Richmond thinks it would be a good use of her money?"

"There might possibly be better; but if it is the best she knows, that is all she can do. I have a great opinion of doing what our hands find to do, Miss Redwood; if the Lord gives other work, He will send the means too."

"There's a frame bedstead lyin' up in the loft," said the housekeeper.

"'Tain't no good to any one, and it only wants a new rope to cord it up; perhaps the minister would let Sally have that; and it would save so much."

"By all means, let her have that; and anything else we can spare. Now, Matilda, you and I will go and attend to our other business."

They went back to the study, where the light was growing soft. Mr.

Richmond drew up the blinds of the west window and let in the glow and colour from a rich sunset sky. He stood looking at it, with the glow upon his face; and standing so, spoke--

"What was it, Matilda?"

Matilda on her part sat down in a chair, and with a face of childish grave meditation, peered into the great bunch of asparagus with which Miss Redwood had filled the minister's chimney. She sat in shadow all over, and answered as if taking out the very secret burden of her heart for her friend's inspection.

"Mr. Richmond, I can't do Band work any more. I can't do anything. I can't do anything at all. You told us to buy up opportunities; but I have no opportunities now even to buy."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir," said the child, slowly. "I am quite sure. I cannot do any work at all. And I would like it so much."

"Wait a bit," said the minister, still looking at the evening glow; "maybe you are too hasty."

"No, sir. Aunt Candy will not let me go out, and I can see n.o.body."

"Whose servant are you?"

"I am Christ's servant," said the child, softly.

"Well. Being His servant, do you want to do His will, or your own?"

"Why--I want to do His will," Matilda answered, speaking a little slowly.

"Isn't it His will just now that you should be without your old liberty, and unable to do these things you want to do?"

"Yes, sir," Matilda said, rather unwillingly. "I suppose it is."

"Are you willing His will should be done?"

Mr. Richmond had faced round from the window now, and Matilda met his look, and did not answer for a moment.

"Is it His will, Mr. Richmond, that I should have no opportunity to do anything?"

"What do you think? If He had chosen to do it, He could have placed you in the midst of the fullest opportunity. He _has_ placed you under the rule of your aunt. Are you willing His will should be done, and as long as He pleases?"

Matilda looked in her friend's face, but it put the question steadily; and she faltered and burst into tears.

"That is a great question, Tilly," said the minister, kindly. "Is it yourself you want to please? or the Lord Jesus? He can have these outside things done by other people, even if you cannot help in them; but of _you_ the first thing He wants is an obedient child. Will you be obedient? That is, will you agree to His will?"

"Mr. Richmond--must I be _willing_ to do nothing?" Matilda asked without uncovering her face.

"If the Lord bids you do nothing."

"But I thought--He bade me--do so many things?"

"So He does; and just now the very first and foremost of them is, that you should be content with His will."

The daylight had faded sensibly when the next words were spoken, so many seconds went by before Matilda was ready to speak them.

"Mr. Richmond," she said, after that pause of hidden struggle, "isn't it very hard?"

"It depends upon how much any one loves the Lord, my dear child. The more you love Him, the less you want your own will. But you were never more mistaken in your life, than just now, when you thought He had taken all your opportunities away."

"Why, what opportunities have I, Mr. Richmond?" said Matilda, lifting up her face.

"This, for one. Opportunity to be obedient. The Bible says that Christ, coming here to stand in our place and save us, learned obedience by the things which He _suffered;_ and I don't know but we must, too."

Matilda looked very hard at her adviser; it was not easy for her to get at this new thought.

"Cannot you as truly obey, when G.o.d says you must be still, as when He says you must work?"

"Yes, sir."

"And in either case, obedience is in the heart--not in the fingers or the tongue. Isn't it so?"

"Yes, sir."